Zheng He's exploits numbered so many!  I, Ma Huan, served as his translator during his later voyages and, years after, as the chronicler of his travels in the Western Ocean.  By the emperor's command, the admiral headed up the treasure fleet which included as many as 62 nine-masted treasure ships, each as large as a sizable village, and nearly 200 smaller vessels -- supply ships, troop transports, water tankers.  His crews amounted to nearly 28,000 men.

Through Zheng He's accounts and others' I heard of his earlier voyages -- tales of silver and silk, tea and wine, oils and candles offered for trade.  Of diplomacy that led to the sacred gilin, once thought a myth, becoming a gift for the emperor.  Of pirate ships burning and their commanders executed.

I'd heard or witnessed all the stories, or so I believed. 

But it seemed Admiral Zheng kept one story untold.  It remained the stuff of rumors during his voyages, and I believe in times to come even those rumors will fade.

Once Zheng He captured a dragon.

# # #

Zheng He kept the story of the dragon to himself for many years. 

We shared many exploits during his later voyages.  I watched as the sultan of Aden bartered pearls, gems, amber, and rose water for our gold, silver, porcelain, and pepper.  On a trading and diplomatic mission to Siam, I heard the faint ringing of bells as men strode past, the sound emanating from tiny beads implanted in their scrotums.  I stood in witness as Zheng He snubbed the rebel leader Sekanda, so that when he became enraged and attacked us, the admiral possessed a reason to capture him and take him to the emperor for execution.

Finally, he called me to him during his seventh voyage, which would constitute his final one, and said, "I must tell you this most fantastic tale.  You may even write it down, though it may never enter your chronicles of my voyages."

Eager to hear any story Zheng He might describe as "most fantastic," given the many wonders he had experienced, I readily agreed.

# # #

It happened during the first voyage of the treasure fleet, in the fifth year of Emperor Yongle's rule, which the westerners know as 1407.  Zheng He visited the kingdom of Champa to trade porcelains and silks for a rare wood that yielded an expensive and prized incense.  His great ships demonstrated the might of Chinese sea power by their mere presence off the countries of Aru and Semudera and Landri, and the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.  And in Calicut, which I have have referred to in other writings as "the Great Country of the Western Ocean," he established stable prices for our goods. 

Then Admiral Zheng's countless ships set sail for home.  He could stand at the square stern of his flagship's observation deck and look back at the wakes of his nearly three hundred vessels and consider himself safe in the knowledge that in springtime, the strong winds and rains of the monsoons traveled to the southwest.

So imagine his astonishment one clear afternoon as he heard a gigantic roll of thunder, long and loud.  In the instant before he looked skyward, his anger flared -- he and his crew had scrupulously offered prayers and incense to the Celestial Consort, Tianfei, to protect the fleet from such sudden storms.

But as Zheng He gazed past the flagship's red bamboo sails, he saw a dragon half the size of his ship leaving a trail of smoke and descending directly into the center of his fleet.

Years later, Zheng He told me he would never forget the smallest detail of the dragon's approach -- it must have ceased breathing flame the instant he looked up, he insisted, because its smoke trailed behind in such a way that it gave the illusion of discharging from the beast's dark blue belly.  And he wondered why the dragon's wings, also blue, remained spread wide, without flapping even once.  He perceived one more detail -- the dragon's snout seemed altogether too blunt.  He wondered if the dragon had somehow suffered an injury to its face, because Zheng He looked in vain for evidence of its pointed ears or even of its eyes.

But somehow the dragon realized its course bore down upon one of the fleet's water tankers, because at the last instant it swerved in midair, still without a single flap of wing, before splashing into the waters of the Western Ocean.  A great plume of water rose into the air, and the ocean churned as Admiral Zheng ordered the fleet to halt -- a complex process involving flags and banners, drums and gongs. 

Zheng He's flagship circled the area where the dragon had fallen into the sea.  Mists lingered in the air, but try as he might, Zheng He failed to sniff out any odor unique to a dragon.

But Zheng He's vision ranked among the best and, leaning over the bow, he quickly spotted movement beneath the ocean.  The dragon rising from the ocean's depths?

No -- the dragon's wings spanned at least half the length of Admiral Zheng's flagship.  Whatever object or creature rose toward the surface, it had no wings, and its span amounted only to about two zhang -- about the same as four tall men lying in a straight line.

As it neared the surface, the object revealed itself as a sphere of the same dark blue shade as the dragon.  It propelled itself upward with such force that it popped completely out of the water, only to splash down again and bob on the surface.

Those who served under Zheng He learned then why Emperor Yongle had chosen him for such an important command despite his lack of naval experience.  Certainly a eunuch had never received such a large responsibility.  The emperor's decision came after counsel he received from a court official who spoke well of Zheng He's rough skin and sparkling eyes, who compared his eyebrows to swords and his forehead to a tiger's. 

Now the emperor's wisdom displayed itself for all to see as Admiral Zheng's eyes sparkled anew and his forehead wrinkled with determination.  "Break out the nets!  Bring that dragon's egg aboard," he commanded, and as he watched as several of his men gathered giant nets suspended from a wooden frame and tossed it into the ocean.  More than one exclaimed his admiration at Zheng He's insight that the sea, having swallowed a dragon, had coughed up one of her eggs.  They scooped it up as fishermen would their catch and Zheng He watched as his men strained to lift the egg to the deck.

Within moments, the dripping egg stood on the wooden deck of Zheng He's flagship, its two-zhang height towering over him and his crew.  "Excellent," Zheng He told his men, and strode forward to examine the sphere -- for this egg truly manifested itself as such, not the expected oval shape.  Zheng He ran his fingers across the smooth surface of the blue egg.  He told me these many years later that it did not feel proper, having none of the slightly bumpy texture of a hen's egg, for instance, but rather the utter smoothness of one of his flagship's bronze cannons.

As Admiral Zheng's examination of the egg continued, several of his men eased forward, their own curiosity overriding lingering fear.

But then!  The dragon's egg began to rumble, a low sound that insinuated itself through the ship's deck.  The crewmen who had drawn close exclaimed in fear and many tripped over each others' feet in their desperation to escape. 

Zheng He, as befitted his position and courage, stepped back in a more leisurely fashion.  He stared impassively at the egg as it began to rock back and forth.  He could easily imagine the baby dragon inside, frightened or enraged, determined to crack open his shell and strike out against those around him.

"Archers," Zheng He ordered, and the word passed quickly through the ship and the bowmen arrived within mere heartbeats.  They took up position to one side of the egg, bows drawn, awaiting the order to fire should the baby dragon burst forth.

But the egg's rocking motion halted, and its rumblings from within subsided.  Even Zheng He later admitted to me what happened next left him without speech for a time.

At first he perceived a vertical line of some sort drawing itself down the side of the egg.  Then realization came -- not a line, but a seam. 

The seam etched itself down nearly half the egg's circumference.  Then it created a right angle and traversed the egg horizontally.  Another right angle formed, and another, until a square chunk of the egg moved to one side, as if animated on its own.  It halted, still somehow attached to the side of the egg.

Then Zheng He caught his first glimpse of the baby dragon, as its blue, lightly-scaled hands grasped the edge of the opening.  Crewmen raised a great alarm and scrambled across the flagship's deck in confusion.  Zheng He concentrated on the dragon's face as it left the shadows of the egg's interior.  Its snout appeared much less pronounced than Zheng He expected, and its eyes stared outward through narrow lids.  He did not see the pointed ears he expected, indeed saw no evidence of ears at all.  Even the light scales of the dragon's upper body faded out as they approached its face.  Zheng He hoped to perceive the dragon's personality and intentions with his examination of its features, but he could not just yet.

Admiral Zheng's men quieted as the dragon stared out at them, but when it raised a foot and began to climb out of the egg, they began to shout again.  Several of the archers grew noticeably nervous, and a couple of them drew back their bows even more, clearly ready to loose their arrows. 

But Zheng He commanded, "Hold!"  The archers eased the tension on their bows.  For Zheng He noticed what no one else did:

The dragon wore boots.

# # #

Zheng He felt that the dragon seemed weak and listless.  It proved difficult for the creature to pull itself out of its egg, and the admiral said the prospect of helping the dragon emerge tempted him.  But concern for his safety overcame even him, and he stood and watched as the dragon strained to pull itself up and out of the egg.  As more the dragon's body became visible, Zheng He saw that it wore a long tunic of some sort that came down past its knees.  The light blue garment contrasted with the dragon's dark blue skin.  It featured no belt or pockets or any adornments.

But two vertical slits in back allowed the dragon's wings to move freely -- or would have, if the dragon could have mustered enough energy to move them.  Instead, they fell limply on either side of the dragon's body.  They extended from just above its shoulders to just below its waist, but seemed strangely thin.  Zheng He wondered how such feeble-looking wings could lift this creature which, if it ever got to its feet, would stand twice as tall as a man.

A baby dragon would not emerge from its egg fully clothed and dry, Admiral Zheng realized.  And the closer he looked at the "egg," the more it resembled something made, not a natural phenomenon.

Yet the large dragon had clearly tumbled from the sky, releasing this one into the ocean.  A mystery, Zheng He thought.  Perhaps a dangerous one.

The dragon tumbled onto the deck and landed with a heavy, meaty sound.  It raised its head to try to take in its surroundings.  Many of Zheng He's men remained frightened even of this weakened creature, and told him the archers should fire immediately, that they would find no better moment to destroy the dragon before it took flight and breathed fire and destroyed them all.

"You disappoint me," he told them.  "We serve the Emperor, who sits on the Dragon Throne.  We know dragons represent goodness and intelligence."  He pointed at several crewmembers in turn, and commanded them, "Take the dragon below.  Four of the archers will accompany you."  To one of his commanders, he said, "Summon doctors.  Send them down, as well."

Even the most loyal of men may have taken another look at the dragon and hesitated to obey such an order -- except from Zheng He.  Even so, a couple of men failed to step forward in a lively manner, only to have their superiors beat them bloody, so they would fear them more than the dragon. 

It took considerable effort, but eventually the men managed alternately to carry or drag the dragon down into the hold.  They cleared a space among the porcelain and gems and the many gifts for barbarian leaders and placed the dragon among them.  They tried to place it sitting up at first, then gave up that goal and allowed the dragon to lie upon its left side, careful not to let it crush those thin wings with its own weight.

Admiral Zheng told the men who had brought the dragon that they had served well and could leave.  He positioned the archers in shadowed areas around the hold, so they would not unnecessarily frighten the dragon. 

At that moment, the doctors arrived, and upon seeing their patient, stopped abruptly, eyes wide, mouths agape.  Zheng He told them, "You represent my wisest medical men.  I give you the challenge of your lifetimes -- heal this dragon."

The doctors looked at the limp form of the large creature before them, then at one another, and their silence broke apart into half a dozen overlapping conversations, each doctor proposing a course of action to his colleagues, each contradicting all the others. 

Finally Zheng He had heard enough:  "Silence!"  He pointed at one of the doctors immediately before him, an elderly man with grizzled whiskers, but whose eyes remained keen.  "Tell me how you would treat the dragon."

"Typically I would conduct an interview," the old doctor said.  "I would ask the patient about his sleep habits, what he has eaten, whether he has a stressful life.  But I can do none of these things with this patient."

Zheng He indicated the doctor standing next to the old man -- a younger fellow with an unlined face and a demeanor suggesting an inordinate curiosity.  He said, "I would try to find one of the six pulses in the wrist.  But the arrangement of this dragon's wrist must surely differ from yours or mine.  How can I find such a pulse?"

The third doctor Zheng He bade speak suggested, "I would examine the tongue, if this creature has a tongue.  I would check for the red tongue that would tell me of an inflammation.  Or the white tongue which would show that the dragon lacks energy.  But a dragon -- surely to make such an inspection involves risking the dangers of its fiery breath."

Then the dragon began to stir, and it uttered low moans that began deep within its chest and rumbled outward to rattle boxes and barrels next to it in the hold.  Even Zheng He felt suddenly aware of the creature's size as it struggled to rise up on its arms.  Once it sat upright, it appeared strangely human in its deportment.  It sat with its right knee raised and right hand upon that knee.  The left leg stretched out before it and the left hand hung to its side.

Then, for the first time, it looked directly at Admiral Zheng with awareness of its surroundings.  Zheng He had always felt himself an excellent judge of men; now he found himself attempting to perceive the nature of this very strange creature, so different from a man yet also at variance from his conception of a dragon.

Zheng He's voice, even after all these years, trembled a bit as he spoke to me of the dragon's discerning gaze.  He told me of the intelligence he saw in those eyes, and the gentleness.  Others might think the dragon a beast; he rejected that.  He realized he stood before a creature that might legitimately consider itself a near-equal to a man.

That realization, he said, represented for him the dragon's most frightening aspect.

# # #

At this point in Zheng He's tale, I told him that I did not mind him mocking my trusting nature, but that he did not have to continue his jest.  He knows I believe in such things as ghosts and vampires, and I declared myself willing to believe in dragons, as well.  But I knew he did not believe in such things.

Admiral Zheng laughed, and insisted upon the truth of every word.  "But I did not wish this tale told before I wanted it told."

"What makes this that time?" I asked.

"Let me tell more," Zheng He said.  "Then you will realize on your own."

# # #

Zheng He decided he should set aside his status as commander-in-chief of the treasure fleet and adopt that of ambassador.  As the doctors watched in wonderment, Zheng He spread his arms wide and bade the dragon greetings:  he spoke in praise of its wisdom and strength and inquired as to any service he might provide, perhaps a particular herb or a soothing tea.  Then he lowered his hands and bowed his head slightly.

The dragon, of course, showed no sign of understanding Zheng He's speech.  He chose this time, however, to utter another low moan.  The doctors, as one, took several steps backwards; the archers raised their bows a bit higher.

Zheng He raised a hand waist-high to indicate that the bowmen should relax their stance.  Zheng He did not know whether the dragon's moans represented an exclamation of pain or an attempt at communication.  He must know more.  And another thought occurred to him -- he had spent this voyage demonstrating Chinese might to the barbarian countries of the Western Ocean.  Here sat yet another opportunity to show that might, this time to a supernatural creature! 

First, he must make sure the dragon survived.  He commanded the doctors: "Fetch fresh water for the dragon!  Then, offer it as wide a range of food as you can, whatever your judgment tells you a dragon might find appropriate -- pork and fishes, turnips and mushrooms, apples and plums.  We must hope the same foods that nourish us provide it with sustenance, as well."

The doctors began to leave, but Zheng He stopped them all with a raised hand.  "Then, once you have fed the dragon, you may conduct the interviews and examinations you spoke of."

One protested, "How may we conduct such an interview when the dragon cannot speak to us?"

"Think of him as you would a patient too injured to speak.  Also, you mentioned the six pulses and the tongue as providing clues.  I trust you possess other ways, as well, to convince a patient's body to give up its secrets.  I suggest you employ them."

Admiral Zheng watched for a few moments as the doctors scurried about the hold for provisions appropriate for a dragon.  Then he returned his attention to the creature itself, who continued to sit and stare and utter the occasional moan.  Zheng He felt for the creature, as he realized it had no way of knowing whether it had found itself among friends or enemies.  It may believe, he thought, that I intend to impress it as part of the crew, or that I consider it a mere beast and wish to discover whether its flesh would constitute a delicacy!  But a beast doesn't possess the dragon's obvious intelligence.  I suspect we could even teach it civilized speech.

Such a possibility heartens me.  After all, it requires a certain intelligence for the creature to understand it must acknowledge my sovereignty over it. 

I will demand that most precious treasure of all for the sake of the emperor!

# # #

Zheng He watched as two of the doctors, using all their strength, scooted a large barrel of water toward the dragon.  It apparently understand the nature of the offering immediately, as its powerful arms easily lifted the container to its mouth.  It drank about half the water and placed the barrel next to it.  One of the doctors approached the barrel as if to retrieve it and the dragon emitted a loud hissing sound.  "I will admit," Zheng He told me all these years later, "that my bowels stirred when I heard that sound, because I believed it certain that flames would engulf the doctor and, perhaps, all of us within seconds."

Yet still the doctor stood, and not even a hint of smoke appeared from the dragon's mouth.  All the same, the doctor backed away from the creature.

Of all the foods the doctors offered up, the dragon accepted only various fishes and apples.  It did not try to stand for the better part of a day.  Zheng He made sure only he and the archers attended as the dragon lifted itself up on two arms, then one, then rose on wobbly legs.  "Surely no man has ever stood next to such a formidable creature," Zheng He told me.  "Certainly no creature as intimidating, indeed frightening, as the dragon."

Now the dragon looked around, as if searching for something familiar.  Then its gaze caught a shaft of light from a porthole just over his head.  It turned slowly, took the several steps it required to stand in the light, and slowly spread its thin, translucent wings. 

Zheng He saw that the span of the dragon's wings amounted to a distance barely longer than the dragon's height.  How, he wondered, can such small wings support this creature in flight?  But, he reasoned, perhaps this baby dragon's wings will grow larger in time.

The dragon stood at such an angle as to receive the light over as much of the area of its wings as possible.  The admiral felt his own body grow chilled at the thought that the dragon might accept the warm rays of the sun to power a previously dormant fire-breathing capability.

But after a few minutes, the dragon folded its wings, returned to its previous position, and sat again.  It did not breathe fire.  It did not appear to provide any threat at all.

Zheng He decided his determination to assert himself over this creature could not flag.  He stood straight and tall, spread his arms wide, then clapped his hands against his breast.  "Zheng He.  Zheng He."  Then he reached his arms toward the dragon, bidding it to say its name, if it had one.

Another grunt from the dragon, but this one came out more quietly, more like that of a man wondering how to interpret something than of a creature in pain.  The dragon tilted its head much as a curious dog might, then placed its hands on its own chest and said, in a deep but clear voice, "Merabor.  Merabor." 

Zheng He felt as if his heart would burst from his chest.

# # #

In the days afterward, the dragon, Merabor, astonished Zheng He with his healing abilities.  The doctors' interviews and examinations proved unnecessary.  Perhaps, he reasoned, the dragon had only needed food and water.  But another aspect of the creature suggested itself -- its apparent need to stand in the sun several times a day.  Upon those occasions Merabor seemed renewed, as if the sun provided nourishment food and water could not. 

The "egg" also impressed him -- after Merabor's exit, it had closed itself up sufficiently that neither Admiral Zheng nor anyone else could perceive that an exit ever existed.  He ordered it stored in the hold, but far from the dragon.

Zheng He felt, however, that Merabor's greatest accomplishment remained his swift learning of the rudiments of the Chinese language.  Notice, "his," not "its," for the dragon informed Zheng He of its maleness early on.  The admiral asked whether Merabor had spoken with people before.  The dragon insisted he had not, which the admiral found at best confusing and at worst suspicious.  How had it learned civilized speech so quickly? 

Admiral Zheng also maintained his fascination with the dragon's clothing.  Whoever created it did not appear to have sewn or woven it in any familiar manner.  To the unaided eye Merabor's long tunic appeared to encompass a single unbroken piece of cloth.  Its sleeves and its neck and wing holes did not even end in hems, nor did the very bottom of the garment; the material simply ended, yet showed no sign of fraying.  Zheng He asked Merabor if he may touch the tunic, and the dragon relented easily.  The admiral slid his fingers over the tunic, and he gasped as the cloth imparted a minor shock similar to static electricity; the shock did not cease, however, but continued as Zheng He rubbed the cloth between thumb and forefinger.  Its texture felt similar to silk, but he could not perceive threads, no matter how fine.  Yet the cloth seemed to possess the strength and elasticity of leather without the accustomed thickness.  

Zheng He realized his fingers still fondled Merabor's tunic and he released it, wondering at the reluctance he felt as he did so.  "It felt as if it holds the spark of life itself!" Zheng He muttered.  But the admiral set this idea aside as unworthy of someone of his logical nature.

Zheng He tried to decide what kind of dragon Merabor represented.  He knew none that wore clothing, for instance.  The admiral stood before Merabor one day as the dragon sat and ate.  He'd dismissed the archers day earlier, feeling that he could trust the dragon -- also, that if Merabor truly wished to burn them all and destroy his flagship in the process, likely the archers could not prevent it.

Zheng He told Merabor he believed him less logical than the Wood Dragon, nor as competitive as the Fire Dragon -- not as diplomatic as the Earth Dragon, nor as ruthless as the Metal Dragon.  "I believe you represent a Water Dragon," the admiral said.  "You seem less selfish, more inhibited.  You appear more able to accept defeat."

Merabor tossed two apples into his mouth as a man might a couple of cherries, and ate them in two gulps.  He replied in his deep yet halting voice, "Not...defeated.  Not...dragon."

"Not...a dragon?" Zheng He asked.

Merabor placed his hands on his chest as he had when he'd first said his name.  "Oldavar.  Oldavar.  Name of my people."

Zheng He couldn't hide his confusion.  "You mean, perhaps, your tribe?  Do dragons organize themselves into tribes?"

Merabor tilted his head, dog-like, once more.  "No understand."  Hands on chest again.  "Oldavar.  Only Oldavar."

"Ah!" Zheng He said, nodding his understanding.  "'Oldavar means 'dragon' in your tongue."

Merabor stopped with another pair of apples midway to his mouth.  "No dragon.  Oldavar."

Zheng He folded his arms on his chest and frowned.  How, he wondered, can a dragon sit there before me and call himself something else?  I might as well refer to myself as something other than a man.  "A more vexing creature may not exist," he told Merabor.  "How might I learn more about you?"  He reasoned that for the dragon to acknowledge the emperor's sovereignty over him, he must understand the true nature of his ruler.  But to do that, Zheng He must first understand the dragon.  The gift, he reasoned, must match the one who receives it. 

A moment's thought, and the admiral had his answer:  "All things in life express themselves through opposite principles -- yin and yang.  In order for me to learn more about you, you must learn more about me.  Such an opportunity approaches."

Merabor's eyes spoke of an intelligence that sometimes intimidated even Zheng He.  The dragon rumbled, "How may I learn more?"

"I have remembered a more vexing creature than you.  Someone who may indeed provide you a better understanding of men.  You must witness my encounter with the pirate, Chen Zuyi."

# # #

Days later, the treasure fleet approached Palembang, in Sumatra, where many Chinese merchants and their families lived. Chen Zuyi had taken control of the city and begun raiding ships in the Strait of Malacca. 

This pirate did, indeed, vex Admiral Zheng, and he had grown determined to root out this menace.  First, however, he must gather information about the pirate's intentions. 

Zheng He wanted Merabor to witness as much as possible of his encounter with Chen and with his own informant, the merchant Shi Jinqing.  However, he knew he dared not display the dragon before men who did not serve him as crewmembers.  He could order his own men to remain silent about Merabor, knowing that some would speak of him anyway.  He could address that problem by punishing severely the men who spoke, while dispatching senior officers to discredit their words.

But the admiral could not effectively silence or discredit those who lived ashore, at least not after the treasure fleet departed.

So Zheng He, under cover of darkness the night before his meeting with each man, instructed trusted members of his crew to clear the path from the hold to an upper deck where the meeting would take place.  The admiral escorted Merabor to a small alcove adjacent to the meeting room and secreted him there. 

Merabor grumbled about the cramped surroundings, but Zheng He promised him the first meeting, with the pirate himself, Chen Zuyi, would take place in less than an hour, at first light.  "You will learn much about how men deal with one another," he told the dragon.  "Then you shall learn about how men deal with pirates."

Merabor gave another grumbling response, which Admiral Zheng interpreted as the dragon conceding the point.  "I realize you will not understand much of what you hear," the admiral said.  "I will explain more afterwards.  I will also allow you a lengthy time outside on my observation deck to bask in the sun."

"Then I wait eagerly," Merabor said.

Satisfied with the dragon's response, and with himself, Zheng He started sternward toward his quarters, but a crewman ran up to him, bowed, and pointed excitedly at the ocean's waters just to one side of the treasure ship's wake.  The dim rays of the sun shone obliquely on the calm waters, but just enough that Zheng He made out a dark shape beneath the surface -- a shape familiar enough that a sense of wonder and awe gripped him. 

The shape of the dragon's mother.

And it moved, pacing this very ship. 

Zheng He's first instinct told him to rush back to Merabor and demand to know how the dragon mother had survived, and whether she meant his ship harm.  But as he admonished the crewman who'd warned him of this possible danger to speak of it to no one else, then dismissed him, a second thought came to him.

He reasoned that Merabor either did not want him to know of his mother's survival, or did not know of it himself.  Either way, Zheng He possessed knowledge the dragon did not -- and knowledge often represented advantage.

The admiral continued toward his quarters, consciously refusing to glance again at the dark shape. 

# # #

When Admiral Zheng's flagship docked in the Old Harbor in Palembang, he sent a messenger to Chen Zuyi and his associates, requiring them to submit to his sovereignty. 

Zheng He believed the pirate would attempt either an attack or an escape upon this summons.  To the his surprise, however, Chen Zuyi soon appeared at the Old Harbor to speak with him directly.  The pirate came aboard Zheng He's flagship and allowed the admiral's men to direct him to the meeting room.  Chen Zuyi bowed deeply, and spoke quietly but confidently:  "I have appeared as you requested, Admiral."

"So you have," Zheng He said.  He offered the pirate nothing, neither food nor drink nor an offer to sit.  "Do you then submit to me?"

Chen Zuyi bowed again.  "I have no other choice before such powers as you command."

Zheng He thought of the dragon deep within this very ship.  Soon I may have many other powers, he thought.  But none to boast of just yet.  "Prepare your men," he told Chen Zuyi.  "Your days of piracy end here."

The man left, having seemingly acknowledged and accepted Zheng He's sovereignty.  If only, he thought, the dragon would accept such so easily.  He considered canceling his appointment with his informant, Shi Jinqing, but decided the proper political course meant hearing whatever he might have to say. 

First, however, the admiral stepped into the alcove adjacent the meeting room and looked in on Merabor.  The dragon still stood silently.  Zheng He asked, " Did you gain any insight into people as you listened?"

Merabor's voice rumbled even lower than usual in such close quarters.  "You would kill him.  The...pirate."

Zheng He displayed his best diplomatic smile.  "If he refused to acknowledge my powers and sovereignty, of course I would."

"The pirate...barbarian?"

Admiral Zheng's smile widened into a natural one.  "Yes, I consider the pirate a barbarian."

Merabor aimed that piercing gaze at the admiral.  "Zheng He...barbarian?"

Admiral Zheng told me, these many years later, that he would have personally beaten a man who said such a thing to him.  But the admiral knew he must force down his anger -- how could a dragon know what made a man a barbarian?  He also admitted that part of him remained concerned regarding the dragon's potential powers, which he feared may lie dormant, awaiting Merabor's full recovery.  He told the dragon, tersely, "I do not consider him a barbarian.  You should never utter such words again."

Zheng He expected an apology, but Merabor simply stood mutely once more.  He could not help but wonder whether that stance expressed the dragon's own anger or whether he did not have the words allowing him to respond.

The admiral chose to believe the latter, and went back into the larger room to await his informant's arrival.

# # #

Shi Jinqing bowed deeply, respectfully, as befitted his status aboard Zheng He's flagship.  The admiral, in turn, respected Shi Jinqing's counsel and greeted him warmly.  Servants surrounded them both and provided soft pillows for them to sit upon, hot tea to sip, and fresh fruits to eat.  Zheng He wasted little time in preliminaries, asking Shi Jinqing, "What do you know of Chen Zuyi's intentions?"

Shi Jinqing took a long sip of tea and said, "The pirate came here to speak with you, did he not?"

"He did."

"And pledged he would submit to you?"

"He did."

"He lies.  He intends to attack you here in the strait by bringing his forces quickly from the river channels where they wait.  But I know how you may best deploy your great forces to prevent such an attack."

The admiral leaned forward.  "Tell me," he commanded.

Shi Jinqing told.  And Zheng He remained aware of the dragon listening.

# # #

Once his informant departed, Zheng He went to Merabor again.  The dragon stretched its wings and asked, "You will kill the pirate now?"

"I intend to," the admiral said.  "He lied before.  He does not acknowledge my sovereignty."

"You consider it more valuable than his life."

"He must realize my emperor's powers.  He steals from my people and laughs at my fleet."

Merabor remained silent for a long moment, leaving Zheng He to wonder what line of thought it pursued.  Then Merabor said, "On my world...this does not happen now."

Zheng He blinked in confusion.  "Your...world?  Only the one exists."

Merabor stretched up to his full height and looked down upon Zheng He.  At this moment, the admiral told me, the dragon frightened him, though Merabor made no threatening gesture.  Instead, the admiral said, the dragon assumed a superior stance he'd never witnessed previously.  Zheng He had considered Merabor dependent upon him since his arrival aboard his treasure ship.  He provided him fishes and apples and water, after all, and in a sense represented the dragon's only access to the sun itself, which seemed to revitalize him in a way the admiral still struggled to understand.  Zheng He asked, "What other world do you speak of?"

"A light in the sky.  So far away you cannot see it."

"We steer our ships by such groupings of stars, such as the Weaving Girl and the Lantern.  But surely you cannot live on a point of light."

"Other worlds circle them, just as this one circles your sun."

"Merabor, you speak more confidently than I have heard before.  And your vocabulary has grown."

The dragon's wings folded against his back.  "You believe me an animal, despite my obvious intelligence.  Such a mistake carries dangers."

"I and my crew saved your life.  Why would you make such threats?"

"I would never threaten.  But I must explain.  I violated my orders when I allowed you to rescue me.  My society says I must not speak to humans or even allow them to see me or my ship."

"Ship?" Zheng He asked.  "I've seen no ship -- only your mother as she crashed into the sea."

"Another mistake.  You saw my ship -- it contains what you call 'the spark of life,' although one cannot call it truly alive.  But it did not give birth to me.  I travel in it as you travel aboard this treasure ship.  But it grew...ill...unexpectedly and crashed here."

"Enough nonsense.  I have dealt with you honestly.  Do the same for me.  Will you remain and learn more of civilized people?  Or do you wish to leave us?  If so, will you do so peacefully, or by using your great strength and breath of fire?"

The dragon regarded the admiral through those narrow lids.  "I will remain to witness your civilization."

Zheng He still felt uncertain of Merabor's intentions, but kept those thoughts to himself as he had his observation deck at the stern of the ship cleared and escorted the dragon there personally.  A commander, Zheng He, knew, must make promises sparingly but must always follow through on them once made.

He watched as Merabor stood with arms widespread and unfolded his wings toward the sun.  Those wise, knowing eyes closed and Zheng He felt as if he viewed the earthbound dragon floating free above them all, as if Merabor's freedom of flight might assert itself at any moment.

The dragon's long blue tunic flapped in the breeze as he stood as unmoving as a monument -- Zheng He's mouth turned up in a wry smile at that thought, as if Merabor stood there proclaiming his own self-worth simply by maintaining such a stance.

Then the admiral's smile faded.  This dragon does indeed hold such self-worth -- such self-importance -- within.  I recognize that emotion in him because I recognize it within myself.

Only one of us may entertain such feelings within this fleet, however.  Merabor must learn his place.

Zheng He could not help, though, but remain aware of the many eyes aboard other ships that took in the dragon's form and stared in wonderment, even as he himself had stared when he first glimpsed Merabor.

It does not matter, Zheng He thought.  I will tell them what they have seen and what they have not.  One day I will command a chronicle of these voyages, and if I wish it to contain tales of a dragon, it will contain them.  If not -- Merabor will remain a rumor, a legend, the talk of drunken or delusional seamen, perhaps with only his unnatural egg and any knowledge we might gain from it remaining.

# # #

Zheng He positioned his larger ships in the Strait of Malacca to bottle up Chen Zuyi's craft within the river courses from which they would attack.  His smaller craft rushed down those courses to engage Chen's ships.  Archers aboard those craft, making sure they traveled safely upwind, launched many flaming arrows into Chen's ships, quickly setting them aflame.  Still more of Zheng He's craft deployed troops to attack Chen's ships from land.

The battle raged for many hours, well into the night.  As the day's last rays faded beyond the horizon, Zheng He ordered his ship positioned broadside to the shoreline.  He had the rear observation deck cleared again and brought Merabor there.  The admiral stood in silence as ships burned on those inland waterways and explosives rumbled.  The smell of gunpowder wafted across the deck.  The shouts of victorious men and screams of maimed ones carried across the water to their ears. 

Zheng He watched little of this; he focused mostly upon the dragon, wondering what it made of this battle.  Does he think us truly barbarians? the admiral wondered.  If so, what gives him the right?  His people have little to recommend them -- Merabor, after all, has allowed me to master him, with barely a protest.

Finally the dragon turned away from the shoreline and looked down upon Zheng He.  "Your skills impress me.  Oh, your technical abilities stand far below those of my people, of course.  But you and your commanders possess a genius of sorts for organization and tactics."

"'Of sorts,' you say?"

"Look far inland -- two of your boats and dozens of your troops coordinate themselves in an attack on one of Chen Zuyi's craft -- masterful!"

Zheng He narrowed his gaze, but saw no such drama playing itself out.  "In the darkness, my eyes can make out but little beyond the mouths of these rivers."

Merabor's wings fluttered.  "That explains much."

Zheng He waved that assertion away with a gesture.  "A trifle.  Yet in many ways you present me with difficult truths."

"I have another difficult truth for you -- have your astronomers perceived an extra star in the sky -- one which moves even more quickly than the planets do?"

Zheng He said, "They've told me of no such star."

"Look now in the northern sky."  Merabor pointed just about halfway between the horizon and zenith.  "Even your eyes should see that star now."

Zheng He placed a hand across his forehead and squinted to help himself focus on that star.  "I do see it.  And it passes quite quickly."

"As it does several times a night."

"Do your people live there, as well?"

"Imagine another ship, much larger than the one that crashed here, larger even than your ship of the sea.  It allows us to travel between the stars.  I must return there soon.  What you call my 'mother' brought me here.  It will take me back."

Blood rushed to Zheng He's face, and for an instant he wondered whether the dragon could perceive that, as well.  If he can, the admiral thought, then he hides it well.  "How...soon?" the admiral asked.

"I do not know.  Before months pass, certainly.  Perhaps weeks."

Zheng He decided upon his plan at that moment, especially as it occurred to him that if Merabor could see so well in darkness, perhaps he could see his mother -- his "ship," when he and his men could not.  Perhaps, he thought, Merabor even speaks with it somehow without us realizing. 

But I cannot allow this dragon to leave.  He must remain here and return to China with me as the most fabulous prize I or any other admiral might present to the emperor.

For that prize, I will risk my ship, my very life.

# # #

Admiral Zheng's forces killed five thousand of the pirates, burned ten of their ships, and captured seven more.  Chen himself would travel with them as their prisoner to the imperial capital in Nanjing to face execution.

The pirates dealt with, Zheng He ordered a select group of his men to begin work on a special room for the dragon, in a corner of the hold several bulkheads away.  His next thought:  This room will house a dragon, not a fool.  I must push the men to work quickly, and never allow Merabor to witness their work.  As the proverb states, talk does not cook rice.

Zheng He gave considerable thought to his plans for Merabor as he dealt with the aftermath of the battle with Chen Zuyi's forces.  Those thoughts inspired action; action transformed itself nearly into obsession.

The dragon would acknowledge his sovereignty.

# # #

So the night arrived that Zheng He cleared the observation deck once again and invited Merabor to watch the passage of that swift star in the northern sky.  The dragon kept his wings close to his body here on the windy deck -- they served no purpose without sunlight, and Zheng He perceived they could easily catch the wind and throw Merabor off-balance.

Admiral Zheng peered to the northeast, and saw Merabor watching the same area of the skies.  "You keep watch for the first sign of your star."

"Of course," Merabor said.

"I stood here at dusk," Zheng He said.  "I saw dark skies in that direction.  It means we will see rain by midnight."

"I must warn you.  You will see much more than rain.  This ship -- all of your marvelous ships -- may find themselves engulfed by a storm you cannot comprehend."

Zheng He fought back a smile.  "You hope to teach my people meteorology now?  If you indeed come from another world, how do you know so much about this world's weather?"

Merabor stared down at the admiral through those narrow lids as he had so many times before.  "I still have many surprises to present you." 

Zheng He had only known Merabor these short weeks since he had arrived from the skies, but he felt he knew the dragon as well as he did any of his crew.  Merabor speaks on many levels this night, the admiral thought.  He works to deliver a message to me without saying it outright.  This makes him dangerous.  I must take that advantage back. 

Merabor pointed to the northeastern horizon.  "Look!  My ship."

Indeed, the moving star rose quickly from the horizon, headed toward northern skies.  "You wish to return to your people," Zheng He said to the dragon.

Merabor didn't take his gaze from the swift star.  "As a sailor, you must often miss your homeland."

"I consider that I take my homeland with me on this journey.  As I will on those that follow.  My emperor has commanded me to allow as much of the world as possible to witness the glory of his reign."

"A goal you have fulfilled honorably, as I have seen since my arrival here.  Now -- do you wish to show me your own surprise?"

Zheng He's face felt warm despite the cool wind that swept across the observation deck.  He hoped only a quirk of the dragon's wording made it sound as much like an order as a suggestion.  I have decided correctly to act on this night, he thought.  "Yes," he told the dragon.  "I wish to show it to you now."

# # #

Zheng He admitted to me he felt fear as he followed Merabor down into the hold.  The dragon always stepped cautiously down the stairs, because his feet easily extended to a length twice that of their width.  He also kept his arms and sometimes his wings extended to maintain his balance.  Admiral Zheng could not help but watch the muscles of the dragon's great arms as they flexed.  He feared what those arms might do if they snatched up a man or hurled a heavy barrel. 

Finally Zheng He and the dragon reached the floor of the hold and walked most of the length of the great ship to arrive in a section Merabor had never allowed into before.  His private room stood against one bulkhead of the ship, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight that the admiral hoped obscured the fact that darkness claimed most of the rest of the hold. 

The room revealed a simple design; smooth, even flimsy-seeming wood with a tall doorway the only entrance.  The door, closed for now, towered over Zheng He's head, but he knew Merabor would have to duck slightly to enter.  The dragon's fully extended wings might barely touch either side of the room. 

"I know these amount to small accommodations," Admiral Zheng said.  "But I've not explained their special nature."

That's when three dozen archers stood amid boxes and barrels throughout the hold, each aiming at Merabor. 

The admiral's heart hadn't beat as strongly during the battle against Chen Zuyi.  He watched as the dragon turned its attention to him.  Merabor said, "You cannot call this the gift of a friend."

Zheng He hardened his soul against Merabor's words.  "I call it the proper gift for a barbarian."

The dragon said, "You told me I should not utter that word to you.  Yet you say it to me?"

"Only a civilized man may decide who deserves the title of barbarian."

Merabor leaned forward and Zheng He fought with every bit of courage and honor he could muster not to take even a single step back.  He heard the muted wooden sound of arrow against bow and the soft rustle of clothing as the archers made ready to fire.

Zheng He had convinced himself that this dragon, for whatever reason, did not possess the power to breathe fire.  As Merabor stared him down, however, doubt arose within him.  He realized the dragon could easily burn him down, however quick his archers' reactions, however sure their aim.

But Merabor did not even open his mouth.  Instead, he went to the door of his special room, pulled it open, and walked inside.

That's when several of the archers cast aside their weapons, slammed the door shut, and thrust a broad wooden bar across the doorway, trapping Merabor within.

Zheng He expected to hear a loud protest from the dragon at this point, but he heard none.  For whatever reason Merabor does not resist, the admiral thought, I must take advantage of this.  He motioned to the archers and they detached the flimsy wood facades from the exterior of Merabor's room, revealing that the dragon stood within a room of thick reinforced timbers.

Merabor told Zheng He, "So now you consider me your prisoner."

"You will arrive in China as the honored guest of our emperor."

"And if I decline this honor?"

"I hope you do not.  I respect you, Merabor.  I believe once you understand the glory of my emperor's civilization, you will remain of your own free will.  But I must insist you give me that opportunity.  Several of the archers will keep watch at all times, in case we have underestimated your strength."

Merabor went to the far side of his room and stood with his back against the ship's bulkhead.  "We understand one another," he said.  "Do what you will."

Zheng He motioned for the archers to lower their weapons for now, thankful for his luck that Merabor did not resist, thankful as well that the dragon's strange egg remained secured in another corner of the hold.  He would have his most skilled artisans find a way to crack that egg, and allow his astrologers and doctors to examine its contents soon enough.

Yet as the admiral stared into Merabor's features, he grew concerned.  He felt he knew Merabor well enough to read those features -- and he perceived only peace and calm reflected there.

So I cannot help but wonder, Zheng He thought, which of us might truly consider himself victorious.

# # #

Zheng He soon found himself rushing to the observation deck again.  Merabor's words had proven themselves correct -- he would soon see much more than rain.  Approaching clouds made the skies grow darker by the moment, even as ocean waves grew taller and the treasure ship rocked more and more. 

The admiral knew typhoons could arise here in the Western Ocean without warning, but when he demanded information from his astrologers and diviners, they told him but little.  They insisted that the sky and seas appeared to act independently of one another rather than in concert.  They could provide no explanation for the phenomenon.

When pressed for even the smallest detail, they told him only that the seas churned more restlessly than the skies would indicate -- that something other than the winds drove the waves to such heights.

Zheng He's mind sped to the image of the dragon's mother -- or "ship," as he insisted upon calling it.  Its dark presence had concerned him profoundly the only time he'd glimpsed it.

Could it have returned?

As if summoned by the admiral's remembrance of the dragon's mother, a series of waves just ahead and to starboard of the treasure ship began to spin around one another, as if attempting to create a waterspout from the bottom up.  The ocean all around began to roil. 

Zheng He told the astrologers and diviners to sound the alert throughout the ship.  He ordered the great vessel's pilot to steer sharply to port, and its signalers to command the gigantic fleet to do the same -- in the darkness, with the other ships unable to see flags and banners, drums and gongs alerted the other ships of the sudden change in course.

As the treasure ship veered, Zheng He rushed to the starboard side of the ship -- he had to know whether it would clear the violent upwelling of water successfully.

As the admiral described it to me later, in that moment, the ocean exploded!  Its waters lifted up as if a giant hand had swept across the surface of the sea. 

Those waters hurled Zheng He against a bulkhead, and awareness fled for several seconds.  It returned only reluctantly, with a vague impression of the sea casting the treasure ship from side to side, punctuated by deafening blasts of thunder and blinding bursts of lightning.  He felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and reached back with his hand.  His hair felt sticky.  When he looked at his hand, rain washed blood down his fingers.

As he sat up, Zheng He saw crewmen running to bring down the bamboo sails before the storm could rip them from the masts.  He heard them crying out the name of Tianfei, the patron goddess of sailors.  Zheng He forced himself to his feet and looked across the windswept ocean.  The ships of his fleet, which normally sailed in an orderly pattern, now found themselves cast about at random.

A commotion behind him, and Zheng He saw crewmen staring into the sky in disbelief.  His gaze followed theirs, and it took him a moment to admit the reality of what he saw: 

Merabor's mother had taken to the skies again, her blue wings that never flapped spanning half the length of his treasure ship as she hovered to its rear. 

The very sight of her threatened to cripple Zheng He's reason, and the moment lingered until he made himself turn back toward his crewmen, intending to issue a command.  That he had no concept of the nature of that command did not worry him -- not Zheng He!  His faith in himself told him the words would come.

When he completed the turn, however, he found Merabor towering over him, silhouetted against a series of lightning bolts.

Zheng He admits words left him at this moment, and he cursed his own failure more than he did the dragon or the storm.

Merabor's words rumbled louder than the thunder:  "You have much wisdom, Zheng He.  But you have found its limits."

Now words released themselves into Zheng He's mouth again:  "You dare insult me?"

"Not at all," the dragon said.  "You said it properly -- 'Only a civilized man may decide who deserves the title of barbarian.'  Yet I have seen how you would bring civilization to me."  Merabor held his arms up and indicated the storm all around them.  "See how I bring it to you, instead!"

Then Merabor's arms reached down, quick as a viper, to grasp Zheng He by the shoulders.  The time has arrived, the admiral thought.  Finally the flame, or the crushing hands.

Merabor used neither.  He lifted Zheng He up before him, the admiral determined not to show fear even with his arms pinned to his sides, his feet dangling.  The dragon brought him close to his face and spoke in as quiet a voice as Zheng He had ever heard:  "Barbarian."

Then Merabor tossed him to the deck, but Admiral Zheng forced himself to his feet just in time to see Merabor dive off the rear of the observation deck.  Zheng He never saw him strike the water -- a series of lightning flashes, and Merabor disappeared. 

The admiral thought the lightning had incinerated Merabor in mid-jump.  But the dragon's mother took this moment to rise higher into the sky, and Zheng He knew she would never abandon him so easily -- somehow she had absorbed her son into herself again.

The admiral stood there as the dragon mother vanished into the low clouds.  Those clouds soon dissipated, and within moments Admiral Zheng found his fleet sailing across calm waters beneath blue skies and he heard his crewmen offering up prayers to the Celestial Consort, Tianfei, whose protection had saved them all.

# # #

When Zheng He turned from those smooth seas and clear skies and rushed down to the hold, he found the dragon's cage shattered like kindling and the archers lying unconscious.  When he went to inspect the dragon's egg, he found it reduced to dust.

Zheng He did not travel on the second voyage of the treasure ships.  Instead, he remained in China and traveled to the birthplace of Tianfei, the goddess of seafarers, to repair her temple.  After all, the admiral's crewmen believed the violent flashes of light that consumed Merabor represented a "magic lantern" whose illumination banished the storm.  Western sailors call such a light "Saint Elmo's fire," and believe only natural forces and not supernatural ones create it.

Zheng He believed neither explanation.  "I held a complete lack of faith regarding Tianfei's intervention," he told me.  "I also realized my own error in believing a natural form of lightning had struck.  My intellect, informed by my emotions, told me that Merabor's mother had generated that lightning -- the spark of life, indeed!"

Once again, during his last voyage, Admiral Zheng insisted every word of his tale represented utter truth.  But only now could he force himself to tell it.

I asked again the question I'd posed earlier:  "What makes this that time?"

"A tale," he said, "should carry a moral.  This one does not.  I had hoped you would find one within it."

Yet I have not.  Zheng He's exploits numbered so many, yet those of silver and silk, tea and wine, diplomacy and burning pirate ships did not consume his thoughts as did this single tale. 

The proverb tells us a bird does not sing because it has an answer -- it sings because it has a song.  What then, constitutes Zheng He's song?

Only this -- despite his failure to bring Merabor to the emperor, despite having to hear the unwarranted insult in Merabor's last word to him, a single fact remained, a single accomplishment no other man could claim.

Once Zheng He captured a dragon.