“You’ve grown up, little dragon.”
“I had to,” said Sally. “A long time ago. Maybe it’s time you did, too.”
Xan shook his head. “Where would I go? You don’t just leave-”
“I did.”
Xan frowned.
“You could be a teacher,” said Sally.
“I am now.”
“Someplace else.”
“Where?”
Sally gestured at the incense burner. “Where did that come from?”
Xan looked puzzled. “What?”
“The dragon’s heart,” said Sally. “Your precious relic. Didn’t it come from the five ancestors?”
“Yes, but-”
“Five Shao Lin monks.”
Xan nodded.
“Not criminals,” said Sally. “Not smugglers, bookmakers, or murderers.”
“No, they were-”
Sally held up her hand. “Patriots. Yes, I know the story. They were honorable men, warriors-not thugs pretending to be those things.”
“That was a long time ago,” said Xan. “Different times.”
“There is a Shao Lin monastery near the peak,” said Sally. “With roots stretching back hundreds of years.”
Xan shifted uncomfortably. “Why would they accept me?” he asked. “It is a closed order.”
“They would welcome someone with your training.” Sally picked up the incense burner, pushing it into Xan’s hands. “Especially if you came bearing gifts.”
Xan stared at the dragon’s face in his hands, then looked back at Sally. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“It’s a long flight.”
Xan nodded. “I’ll give it some thought.”
“Just do it.”
“You sound like one of those American commercials. You’ve spent too much time there.”
“It’s home,” said Sally. She stepped away from the desk and bowed deeply, keeping her eyes on his.
“Goodbye, Xan.”
Xan returned the bow. “Goodbye, little dragon.”
Cape started walking. It was still early and the street was busy. Across from the restaurant, two old men sat playing mah jong on a folding card table, the same two he’d seen the other night. Young couples crowded both sides of the street, some Asian, many interracial, their faces lit by the glare of neon from above. Cape looked at the signs, the strange characters and symbols that never became more recognizable no matter how many times he studied them. A few days ago that had bothered him, but now it just made him smile.
A few blocks and a left took him past Sally’s loft. The grocery downstairs was open, but the second floor of the building was completely dark. Cape wondered when he would see Sally again but no longer worried if he would. He realized that he could no more keep Sally safe than control the weather. But he could be there when she called, as she always had for him.
At the corner, Cape came to a manhole cover and stopped. He looked down into the darkness, thinking about places long forgotten, a side of the city rarely seen, and a part of himself he wished would stay hidden, as dark as the hole beneath his feet. He stepped over the manhole and crossed Broadway, the demarcation line between Chinatown and North Beach, an asphalt border between two different worlds. At the far corner, Cape turned and looked back, a wistful smile on his face. He knew he’d return, he just didn’t know when.
That night Cape slept like a dead man and didn’t dream at all.