Dragon Dance Read Online Free Page A

How?”
    â€œI don’t know. But in our own world there were mystics who claimed they could control metabolism. Even in the West—the Guinness Book of World Records included a man who survived ten feet underground for more than a hundred days.”
    Simon thought about it. “So you think we might be heading for China, after all?”
    â€œCould be.”
    He thought about that, too. “It’s a long swim back already. And it would be a long time to go undetected as stowaways. How many Chinese were there in that hold?”
    â€œA lot. Over fifty.”
    â€œAnd how many awake, crewing, would you say?”
    â€œOnce a course was set, two or three should be able to manage.”
    â€œTwo or three,” Simon said, “against two of us. And they don’t know we’re awake.”
    Brad nodded. “It’s something to think about. But we’d better wait for dark.”
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    It was a long day. They dozed much of the time. At one point, Simon woke with another raging thirst but dared not risk going up on deck to the water tank. When at last the hatch’s square of light faded with dusk, he asked Brad: “What’s the plan of action?”
    â€œWe’ll need to reconnoitre—find out how many there are, and where. Then pick them off.”
    Imminence made the idea less attractive. Simon said: “We might be able to find a dinghy and get away.”
    â€œWe might. I’d think it was easier to jump the Chinese than launch a dinghy without being spotted. Also, we’ve been sailing over twelve hours, and we’re probably in the Kuroshio current, which does better than two knots across the Pacific. Add on wind speed from five large sails, and that makes quite a distance to row back.”
    â€œI suppose you’re right. Shall we press on?”
    They made a cautious exploration of the deck. Lights showed in the elevated stern section, but they checked the forward deck carefully before heading there. At a suitable observation spot, they settled down to watch comings and goings. One lamp revealed a galley on the lower level, and someone preparing food. Simon whispered: “I make it three—two above and one below.”
    â€œCheck.”
    â€œThe one in the galley’s on his own. If we got close, we could make some sort of noise to attract his attention and jump him when he came out.”
    â€œWe could attract the attention of his buddies, too.”
    Cooking smells wafted to them. It didn’t smell a lot like the Chinese food Simon remembered, but it was tantalizing. He could hear the waves slapping against the junk’s sides, the hiss of wind in the sails. Then another sound: the small boom of a gong.
    â€œDinner is served,” Brad said. “Which I guess means the other two have to come below. Let’s move.”
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    The upper stern deck had cabins fronted by a gangway which ran the width of the junk. There was just one companionway, on the port beam. They stationed themselves on either side, in the shadows.
    If they came down together, it could be tricky, Simon thought, clutching the billet of wood which was his weapon. But only one pair of footsteps sounded on the gangway overhead, and descended the ladder. As the figure came level, he moved out quickly and swung. There was a realization, both satisfying and sickening, of the blow solidly connecting with flesh, followed by a grunt of exhaled breath.
    The man collapsed. Brad ran his hands over him and found a dagger. They pulled him into the shadows as they heard more footsteps. The sick feeling had gone, and Simon felt on top of the world. He counted the descending steps: eleven, twelve . . . Leaping, he swung again, and heard a squawk of anger.
    This one staggered, but recovered. Brad launched himself at him from the other side, and they struggled. In the lamplight that spilled from the galley,