The Mark of the Golden Dragon by Louis A. Meyer Read Free Book Online

no,
he
would take the girl instead. The young man stood up against him and was beaten most harshly."
    "Hmmm..." I muse, looking out at the fishermen stowing their gear. "Come, let us get closer, but let us not be seen."
    We climb down from our perch, sling the packs on our backs, and make our way down the beach toward the landing spot. Before we get there, I push Ravi back into the woods and we duck down and crawl on our bellies to the edge of the brush. Leafy branches low over our heads hide us as we peer out.
    That's the badmash, all right. He is free with his kicks and blows from his fists, and a large sword hangs by his side. It is plain that he has his toadies, too. Badmashes of whatever race and place always do. They grin as they carry off their master's stolen catch for sale up in the village. Poor fishermen, forced to buy their own catch with whatever meager goods they've got.
    Grrrrrrr...
    "There, Memsahib," says Ravi, pointing. "That must be the brave young man."
    I follow his point and agree. He has a bandage around his head and many bruises on his face and neck and upper body. He stows his nets, his battered face impassive, showing no emotion ... But I sense something seething within him, yes...
    The fishermen, having put up their boats, begin to leave, trudging back to their village.
    "Ravi," I whisper. "Follow that man and see if you can set up a meeting with me later tonight. Tell him I am from another land and have come to free him and his people from the badmash but will need his help to do it. Be careful, now. You can't be seen by the bad man's toadies."
    "Do not worry, Missy. Ravi very good at being small and beneath notice of peoples," he says. "But what if young man is fearful of meeting with Memsahib?"
    "Just ask him how much he loves his girl."
    Ravi nods, and with a rustle of leaves, heads off on his mission.
    I roll over and go back to watching the beach and the men upon it. Many are walking away, leaving only the bully headman and a few of his minions. Soon those toadies are gone as well—probably to go up into the village to spread terror and discord—leaving the badmash alone by his own boat, which is painted a very rich yellow. I reflect that I have always been partial to that color.
    The evil man puts his fists to his hips and looks about him, gloating with great satisfaction.
    Yes, badmash, you are king of your world, that's for sure—for now, anyway...

Chapter 7
     
    We crawl as silently as we can under the bushes near the hut that sits at the edge of the village. Ravi gives a low birdcall in his throat and it is immediately answered by the appearance of a shadowy slender form that beckons us to hastily enter his dwelling.
    We do it and are soon inside, unobserved by any evil forces, we hope.
    It is a round dwelling with a small fire in the center of the floor and a hole in the ceiling to act as chimney. An older woman, wrapped in once colorful rags, works at a mortar and pestle, grinding grain, of what sort, I do not know, but whatever she is cooking smells awful good. A little girl sits by her side, her big black eyes looking at us in wonder.
    I enter with a length of sailcloth wrapped around my head, so as not to startle anyone right off, and sit down next to the fire. Ravi alights by my side, ready to act as translator.
    The young man who had guided us in does not sit but merely crouches across from us, his gaze level and directed at me.

    I pull off my headscarf and meet his gaze.
    "I am Ju kau-jing yi, beloved of the great Cheng Shih," I say, in case the latter name has any import in this area. "Who are you?"
    He is plainly startled by my announcement and my appearance but does not seem overly cowed and I find that good.
    "My name is Arun," he says with a slight bow of his head.
    "I am pleased to meet you, Arun," I say with a bow of my own head. "Thank you for receiving me so graciously into your home."
    "What I have is yours," he says, gesturing to the meager contents of the rude hut.