Dragon of the Red Dawn: A Merlin Mission (8 page)

“The fire’s out!” Jack shouted.

“Take us to Basho’s!” Annie yelled to the dragon.

The Cloud Dragon twisted her giant body. She slid through the dark clouds. Then she reared up—until Jack and Annie couldn’t hold on any longer and they were falling backward, somersaulting through the air!

SPLASH! SPLASH!

Jack sank to the bottom of the river. He flailed his arms and struggled to the surface. His head
bobbed up—he spewed out water and gasped for air. He had lost his glasses. He dove back down and grabbed them from the river bottom, then swam back to the surface. Treading water, he wiped his glasses, then put them on.

“Hi!” Annie yelled. She was holding the wand in the air, above the water.

“Hi!” Jack yelled back.

Jack and Annie swam toward the bank of the river. They swam until their feet could touch bottom. Then they dragged themselves out of the water and collapsed on the muddy bank.

They had lost their socks and sandals. Their silk kimonos clung to their bodies. Dripping wet, they gasped for breath and looked up at the sky.

Big drops of rain splashed on their faces. There was no sign of the Cloud Dragon. But the cool rain kept falling, bathing the floating world of Edo.

“
W
e did it!” said Annie. “We made our own magic!”

“Yeah, we got the Cloud Dragon to put out the fire,” breathed Jack. He felt dazed. “Do you think we’re near Basho’s house?”

“I think so,” said Annie. “We asked the Cloud Dragon to take us there, so I bet she did. Come on, let’s find Basho.”

Jack and Annie stood up and started walking along the edge of the river. They walked barefoot through the mud, under dripping trees.

“Hey, there’s the clearing,” said Annie.

Jack and Annie headed toward the clearing beyond the trees and tall grass.

“Oh, no!” cried Annie. “Look!”

In the clearing, rain was falling on the charred ruins of Basho’s house. The shingled roof and the bamboo walls of the little hut had burned and collapsed.

“Where’s Basho?” said Jack, scared.

“There!” said Annie.

The famous poet sat on a log next to his banana tree in the gray rain. His clothes were blackened. His face was covered with soot. He clutched his writing box.

“Basho!” yelled Annie.

Basho looked up. A smile crossed his dirty, weathered face. “I looked for you by the river, but didn’t see you!” he said. “I am glad you are safe.”

“We’re glad you’re safe, too,” said Jack.

“But your castle! Your castle burned down,” said Annie.

“Yes. It burned before the miracle of the rain,” said Basho, sighing.

Jack and Annie sat on the log next to him. Through the smoky drizzle, they all stared at the rubble. Trees and plants dripped with rain. A pigeon cooed.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Annie broke the silence. “I’m glad you still have your banana tree,” she said. “I like the sound of the rain falling on the leaves.”

Basho looked up, but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, and I like the sound of the river,” said Jack. “It’s louder now since the rain came.”

Basho tilted his head as if listening to the rain on the leaves of the banana plant and to the steady rushing sounds of the river. His face softened. “Yes, I like those things, too,” he said. He held up his wooden box. “And I still have my poems.”

“Don’t worry, Basho,” said Annie. “Everything can be built again.”

“And your castle will be even more beautiful than before,” said Jack.

Basho smiled. “I suppose that is why the ancients called our fires ‘the flowers of Edo,’” he said.

“What do you mean?” asked Jack.

“After something is destroyed by fire, a good new thing often takes its place,” said Basho. “Just as after the bleakest winter, beautiful flowers return with the spring.”

“I’m sure you’ll make many beautiful flowers,” said Annie.

“Thank you,” said Basho. “I am sorry, though, that you and Jack will not have a place to stay now.”

“Don’t worry,” said Annie. “We have to travel back to our own house.”

“How far away is that?” asked Basho.

“Very
far,” said Annie. She and Jack stood up. “But we just need to get back to the Imperial Garden. We’ll know the way from there.”

“Good,” said Basho. He stood up. “Come, I will accompany you back to the garden.”

“Thanks, that would be great!” said Jack.

Basho picked up his walking stick. Then he led Jack and Annie along the bank of the river. Through the light drizzle, they saw a ferryboat moving upstream. Basho waved, and the pilot steered the boat to shore.

Jack and Annie followed Basho onto the ferry. The three of them sat together on a wooden bench. The other passengers stared at them. Many had ashes on their clothes and soot on their faces. Jack was relieved to see that no samurai were on board.

“Greetings, Master Basho,” the pilot said. The other passengers nodded respectfully to Basho. They smiled as if the presence of the great poet gave them hope.

“The rains were a miracle, were they not, Master Basho?” an old woman said.

“Indeed they were,” said Basho.

“I guess the Cloud Dragon showed up just in time,” said Annie.

“Annie,”
whispered Jack.

Basho smiled at her. “I am afraid no one believes in the Cloud Dragon anymore, Annie,” he said. “But it is lovely to pretend, is it not?”

“Yes, it is lovely,” said Annie.

The rain stopped as the ferryboat traveled on up the river. Mist rose from the water, and birds began to sing.

When they passed the teahouses, Jack and Annie saw firefighters cleaning up after the fire, sweeping up broken tiles and scrubbing the walkways. Waiters were bringing them tea.

The sun was shining by the time they passed the puppet stage and the charred lumberyard. Wisps of smoke still rose from the black piles of burned logs.

The ferryboat floated on through the bright morning. It glided under the Great Bridge and past the crowded fish market. Fishermen were hauling in their catch from the night before.

By the time they moved past the samurai castles and came near the moat of the Imperial
Garden, the sun had completely dried out Jack’s and Annie’s kimonos.

The boat pulled up to the landing. Basho helped Jack and Annie onto the dock. He waved good-bye to the boat passengers.

Jack, Annie, and Basho walked over the stone bridge that crossed the moat. They walked through the massive gate in the high wall. Then they followed the paths of the Imperial Garden, around the big rocks and the pond with the swans.

Jack kept an eye out for horses and samurai warriors. But the garden was as peaceful as when they had first landed. It was filled with birdsong. The willows swayed. Water from the waterfall tumbled into the green pool. Jack caught sight of the sun shining on the tree house high in the cherry tree.

Jack stopped walking. “We know our way home from here,” he said to Basho.

“Are you certain?” asked Basho. He did not seem to notice the tree house in the cherry tree.

“We’re sure,” said Annie. “Once we start on our way, the trip will be easy.”

Basho nodded. “You remind me of the famous saying of the samurai Musashi,” he said.
“‘A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.’”

“I’ve heard that saying before,” said Jack.

“Words can outlive their creators,” said Basho. “Though I will never be so lucky as to have mine outlive me.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” said Annie.

Basho gave them a little smile. “I hope you both will return to Edo someday,” he said. “Look for me when you come back. I should have a lovely new castle on the river by then.”

“Thanks,” said Jack.

“Good-bye,” said Annie.

They both bowed to Basho.

Basho bowed to them. Then the great poet turned and left them. Falling cherry blossoms floated on the wind as he walked away.

Jack and Annie watched Basho until they could no longer see him. Then they turned to go. Just as they started walking, a man stepped out from the shadows of the garden. The man wore a blue coat and two swords hung from his belt.

“Excuse me,” said the samurai. “May I see your passports, please?”

J
ack couldn’t speak.

“Our passports?” said Annie. “They—um— they got destroyed in a fire—on the other side of the Great Bridge.”

The samurai narrowed his eyes. “Your passports
burned?.”
he said. “Why were you on the other side of the Great Bridge?”

“We were with Master Basho,” said Jack.

“Master Basho?” said the samurai.

“Yes,” said Annie. “We are students of his.”

“Ah!” The samurai’s expression brightened.
“So you study poetry with Master Basho?”

“Yes,” said Annie. “Would you like to hear some poems?”

Oh, no!
thought Jack.
Not again!

“Yes, please,” said the samurai.

“No problem.” Annie thought for a moment and then said: “Here’s a simple little poem.” She recited:

Rain falls outside
,
But the tiny cricket on the hearth
Is dry tonight.

The samurai nodded. “Hmm,” he said. “Yes. Very simple, but very lovely.”

“Thank you,” said Annie.

The man turned to Jack. Jack could hardly breathe. His mind was blank. He looked to Annie for help. But Annie just smiled, waiting to hear his poem.

Jack cleared his throat. He tried to stay calm. He closed his eyes and let his mind roam
over their visit to Japan. He opened his eyes. He looked up at the cloudless sky and said: