"Eriskegal is the goddess of the underworld for a country called Sumeria, which no longer exists," Kuailong told Sesshoumaru as she walked him around the room, supporting him with her arm under his shoulders. He leaned too heavily on her, she thought worriedly, which meant the antidote wasn’t working as quickly as she’d hoped it would. She kept those thoughts to herself, however, since Sesshoumaru wouldn’t die of the poison. He would only be weakened by it longer than she’d originally thought he might. "Kali is one of the chief goddesses of India, a goddess of death and rebirth, like Eriskegal. Ordinarily, Eriskegal and Kali would have no reason to have anything to do with one another—no reason even to meet, for that matter, if it hadn’t been for an overly ambitious sorcerer seeking immortality."
        "Yasha?" Sesshoumaru guessed.
        Kuailong frowned. "You really know how to spoil a story, don’t you?"
        That earned her a strange look. "Am I right, Lady?"
        "Yes," she told him in an impatient voice, "but now that you’ve ruined the punch line, the story isn’t as interesting!"
        On the other side of the room, Lord Nishi fought down a chuckle. She never changed. He shook his head and thought his son was so like him in his need to get straight to the point. In his youth, Nishi had worn out even a dragon’s patience.
        The only other people in the room were Jigokuyari, Jaken and Lady Shinju, who knelt demurely beside her husband. Lord Nishi would allow no other to witness his heir’s physical weakness. When Sesshoumaru could sit up for any length of time without assistance, then he would allow the other vassals to see him. Until then, they must be satisfied with second hand information. Lady Shinju, sensing her husband’s amusement, smiled a little behind her hand. Jigokuyari, however, smirked openly.
        "Forgive him, Lady," the young demon joked, "Lord Sesshoumaru has never known the meaning of patience."
        Kuailong and Sesshoumaru turned at the other end of the room, allowing Sesshoumaru to favor his childhood friend with a disgusted scowl. "It was perfectly obvious who Lady Kuailong was talking about!" He snapped. "How will it ruin the story to know who the subject is? She told us at the start that she planned to tell us of Lord Yasha’s past!"
        Kuailong sighed. "True enough. May I continue?"
        Sesshoumaru colored in chagrin and bowed his head, realizing he’d spoken out of turn. "Yes, Lady. Please forgive me for interrupting."
        "You needn’t be so formal here, Sesshoumaru," she told him gently. "You may call me Kuailong."
        The color on Sesshoumaru’s cheeks deepened, but with his head bowed, his hair covered his embarrassment as he replied: "Thank you, La—Kuailong."
        "Now where was I?" Kuailong mused, though she knew perfectly well where she’d left off. "Ah yes, the ambitious sorcerer, seeking immortality—a very foolish thing for a human to want. Even more foolish was tricking a goddess into giving it to him. Never play games with gods," she warned sagely and shook a cautious finger at her audience, "for they are quick to anger, and you burn very nicely."
        "Yasha obviously didn’t burn…" Sesshoumaru muttered under his breath, then said more loudly: "He’s still alive and able to poison me! How did he come by a god’s knife? Did he poison it, or did the god? And what has that goddess to do with it?"
        There was a long, heavy pause, then Kuailong sighed with a playful growl in her chest: "You really haven’t any concept of patience, have you?"
        Once again, Jigokuyari was the only one who laughed out loud, though Lord Nishi almost lost his composure this time. Lady Shinju hid her smile in a sip of tea. All Sesshoumaru could do in his own defense was glare at his friend and family. At least Jaken knew better than to so much as crack a smile, he thought. The little servant was busily refreshing cups of tea and had his back to his master at the moment. He kept his head down so no one could see he was having a smirk at Sesshoumaru’s expense.
        "It is good to see you acting like your old self, my Son," Lord Nishi chuckled. "But you must let Kuailong finish her story without further interruption."
        "I shall drop before she finishes!" Sesshoumaru thought to himself, what he said was: "Dragons tell long tales, Father, you told me so, yourself!"
        "Not that long…" Kuailong objected in a hurt voice. "Believe me, Sesshoumaru, I’m mindful of your delicate condition and plan to keep my story short." She lowered the demon prince onto his futon and handed him the cup of tea that Jaken poured for him. "Even for a demon," she added with a playful grin and took the tea Jaken offered her.
        Sesshoumaru focused on his tea and mumbled in an embarrassed voice: "Please forgive me."
        "You’re as bad as your father," the dragon chided as she arranged herself beside his futon, facing him and the others. "He never let me tell a single story from start to finish without interrupting me with questions. He was lucky if he didn’t get his fur singed!"
        Lord Nishi smiled fondly: "As I recall, I did get my fur singed a few times, and deservedly so, though I must beg you not to do the same to my son."
        "Not in his condition," Kuailong assured him. "Perhaps when he’s strong enough to defend himself…"
        Sesshoumaru’s face was now completely red with humiliation. It was one thing when Jigo teased him, but to have his own father and Kuailong do it was too much. Since when was Lord Nishi so playful? Had he been like this with Kuailong when he was a young demon? Kuailong’s claw poking him under the chin jolted him out of his musings and forced him to look up into her grinning face.
        "You’re blushing, Sesshoumaru!" She teased. "Did I do that?"       
        He jerked his face out her reach and gulped down the rest of his tea. "Please tell me about Yasha," he ground out through clenched teeth.
        The dragon’s eyes abruptly lost their amusement, and she withdrew her hand. "Not in the mood to play? Very well, then. I will give you the information you want in small bites so you can go back to sleep, little pup."
        The room seemed to grow suddenly cold. Sesshoumaru stiffened at the annoyance in her voice and hung his head even lower. "I’ve offended you," he managed quietly. "Please forgive me, My Lady. I am not myself. Please tell the story however you will, and I will hold my foolish tongue and listen without interrupting."
        She lay her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You did offend me, but I accept your apology…and will keep my story brief, since you are obviously too weak to last through an extended narrative."
        All well and good, thought Sesshoumaru, but he would have to face his father’s anger for offending his dearest old friend as soon as he and Lord Nishi were alone. He berated himself for behaving like an impatient child and resolved to keep his mouth shut from now on. Only a madman angered a dragon.
        Kuailong cleared her throat and began again. "Yes, Yasha avoided a roasting. The knife belonged to Eriskegal, but Yasha stole it from her. When you’re strong enough for a longer story, I’ll tell you how he did it. The abbreviated account of what happened next is this: She found him and her knife hiding in one of Kali’s temples. Kali had given Yasha her protection in exchange for the knife, which had the power to kill a god. In order to get her knife back and punish the thief, the goddess would have to go through Kali. She told Kali that Yasha had stolen the knife and therefore had no right to make a gift of it—certainly not to a foreign goddess, however similar in nature to Eriskegal herself. Regardless, Kali now considered the knife her own. An argument between the two goddesses ensued. Kali won the first round, but Eriskegal put a seal on the knife to make it harmless to gods, since she could only imagine Kali intended to use it to kill one of her own. That is another long story." Kuailong paused to take a sip of tea, then continued.
        "The clever Yasha…or Yaksha, as he was known then…went back to Eriskegal—"
        "Foolish Yasha, you mean," Sesshoumaru muttered into his tea, breaking his earlier promise not to interrupt. Kuailong’s deep scowl showed she’d heard him.
        She cleared her throat and continued. "Or foolish, depending upon your point of view. The outcome might indicate he was clever, however. He went before Eriskegal, all contrite and humble, and offered to get the knife back from Kali. The goddess was suspicious, but at last was convinced to trust the mortal. Yasha then went to Kali and told her he had stolen from Eriskegal the spell to break the seal on the knife (a lie), but Kali surely wouldn’t want to test the veracity of his claim on a god. Conveniently enough, Yasha had the solution to that problem, as well: Make him immortal, then slay him with the knife."
        Kuailong shook her head. "I find it hard to believe either goddess trusted him. In their place, I would have roasted the mortal for stealing from a god, then battled it out with my equal for the prize. I suppose Yasha used some kind of magic to charm the goddesses and gain their trust, though it must have been an incredibly powerful spell, considering who he was casting it upon. Goddesses of death are not easily charmed." She held out her cup to Jaken, who refreshed her tea. After taking a sip, she continued. "I’m sure Kali thought she could dispose of him, mortal or immortal. After all, she was a goddess, and making him immortal wouldn’t make him a god, so he would still be her inferior. So she made him immortal, then commanded him to unseal the knife. He cast some sort of spell—Eriskegal was sketchy on those details—but when Yasha told Kali to strike him down, he appeared to die."
        "Appeared to die?" Lord Nishi interrupted impatiently. "How did he fool a goddess of death into believing she had killed him when she hadn’t?"
        Kuailong raised an eyebrow at him for doing what he’d told his son not to, then grinned. "He sent his spirit out of his body, which would make his body seem to be dead. Here’s my favorite part: He put his spirit into Eriskegal’s knife until Kali was convinced his body was dead. Then he put his spirit back into his body, which made it appear as if he’d resurrected himself. That must have been the spell he cast, one to make the knife receptive to his spirit—or at least to allow his spirit to cling to the knife, if not actually possess it. Kali refused to speak to me on the matter."
        She waved a dismissive hand in front her face. "Regardless, Kali was more angered at his trick than impressed by it and would have killed him but for Shiva’s intervention. The god said Kali had willingly made the man immortal and killed him, fulfilling the bargain. Therefore, not only could Yasha keep his life, he could keep his immortality, as well. As for the knife, Shiva ruled that since it had been an offering to Kali, it was hers to keep, and Eriskegal must remove her seal. Eriskegal, of course, had no reason to take orders from a foreign god, and refused to unseal the knife."
        "Is that why it was poisoned?" Sesshoumaru asked weakly. He longed to lie down but knew he’d only fall asleep if he did…and he wanted to hear the end of the story. If this was the abbreviated version, he wondered, how did the long version go? He had to support himself with his elbows on his thighs to remain upright as it was. If she kept on much longer, he was sure he’d topple over onto his face.
        The dragon touched his knee with a gentle claw and bent over a little to look under his hair at his face. "Sesshoumaru, I apologize. I said I would be brief, but I’ve gotten carried away. You need rest. Lie back, and I promise to finish before you fall asleep."
        Sesshoumaru sighed and let her help him lay down and pull the coverlet up to his chest. "I hate this weakness," he growled.
        "I know," she nodded, "but it will pass. Yes, I assume it was at this point that the knife got poisoned. This is where I’ve run out of firsthand reports, you see: Somehow, the knife got into the northlands where poison from the blood of the Midgard Serpent managed to get onto it. In order for that to happen, someone would have had to stab the Serpent with the knife. Because of the seal, I assume it wouldn’t kill the Serpent, though I wonder how the knife—even a knife of a goddess of death--would have pierced its scales." Kuailong shrugged. "The long and short of it is, the poison got onto the knife, and the knife apparently remained in the possession of Yasha, who has ended up in Japan for reasons known only to him for the moment. I’m working to discover his motives and to fill in the gaps in his story even now."
        "He has obviously come to aid the Yomitora in their war against Lord Nishi," Sesshoumaru grumbled tiredly. "That was what he was doing when I was spying on him."
        "Hm," the dragon grunted, "but what are they to a man who is more than two thousand years old? And why would he go to the trouble of stabbing you, Sesshoumaru? No, there is a very big, important piece missing from this puzzle, and I fear we have precious little time to find out what it is." She smiled gently, then and brushed a lock of Sesshoumaru’s hair out of his eyes. "Rest and recover, pup. Your father will need your strength before long."
        Kuailong started to get up, but Sesshoumaru stopped her with a hand on her arm. "When I was spying out the Yomitora, I saw none of the usual preparations for war. No stockpiling of men, weapons or supplies. What does it mean?"
        She met Lord Nishi’s eyes before returning her gaze to his son and replying: "That is part of that big, missing puzzle piece I mentioned. Now rest, Sesshoumaru. I hope to have more information to share tomorrow."
        "Are they relying on this sorcerer?"
        "Perhaps," she agreed. "He’s a human who stole from one goddess, tricked another into granting him immortality and has managed to get away with it for more than two thousand years. My father is a god, and even I advise extreme caution when dealing with such a person."
        Sesshoumaru tried to push himself up on his elbows, but Kuailong gently pushed him back down. He suggested: "Perhaps the goddesses don’t know where he is. If we tell them—"
        "I have already told them," Kuailong replied with a sharp-toothed grin, "but Eriskegal no longer has enough worshippers to give her the power to deal with him, and Kali…" she shrugged. "She refuses to talk about it for the time being, though perhaps the temptation of revenge will get the better of her if I keep at her about it. However, I think we’re on our own for now."
        Sesshoumaru nodded and closed his eyes. That last effort had used his remaining strength, and he could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. In either goddess’ place, he’d leap upon the chance for revenge, he thought as he listened to the others leave the room. Gentle, cool fingers lightly touched his forehead, then were replaced by a cool, damp cloth. Shinju, he thought but hadn’t the strength left to be disgusted by her attention. He was asleep before she left his room in a rustle of silk and slid the door shut behind her.
        As Sesshoumaru slept, he dreamed of the dog-eared boy and his battered Tetsusaiga. Hovering behind the boy like a menacing ghost was an opaque gem that pulsed with evil power.
        "Who are you?" Sesshoumaru demanded in his dream.
        The boy turned to sneer at him, one hand flying to Tetsusaiga’s hilt. His mouth moved, but Sesshoumaru couldn’t hear what he was saying.
        "Are you my brother?"
        The boy drew his sword, and it became a giant fang.
        "Tell me your name!"
        The boy hefted Tetsusaiga over his head, then brought it crashing down in a typhoon of power. Just as it hit him, Sesshoumaru jerked awake in a cold sweat to find himself all alone in his dark room. My brother, he thought, panting. Father was sure the boy in my dream was Shinju’s whelp. But why would he have Tetsusaiga? And why would he try to kill me with it? For that matter, why was a son of the Great Demon of the Western Lands dressed in dirty rags, and why was Tetsusaiga so ill kept?
        He fought to keep his eyes open, fearing what he’d dream when they closed. That blow in his dream would have killed him, he was certain of it. Sesshoumaru listened to himself pant as his heart slowly calmed itself. What was that jewel that hovered behind the boy? Was it the source of his power?
        Sesshoumaru shook his head to clear it. "It was only a dream," he whispered to the empty room, but even saying it aloud couldn’t reassure him that he hadn’t seen an echo of his own future.

Chapter 12