I thought I would be taken to the peaks of the Tiber the next day, flying on the back of Frago, the brown dragon of Dien Phu. It wasn’t the case.

After accepting the offer, I stayed a few days at the home of Dien Phu, who had become my guardian. He told me that we were waiting for the thirteen apprentice riders to be selected. I had been the first and, apparently, the Khaz Dolu had given the go-ahead. He also told me in passing that they had sent for a surgeon from far away, but at the time I had no idea what a surgeon was, so I didn’t think anything of it. I couldn’t wait to meet those who would be my ‘apprentice brothers’, as my tutor called them.

Dien Phu explained to me that apprentice riders had always been the sons of powerful men, who had influence in presenting their sons and daughters for entrance examinations. He himself was the third son of a famed captain of the Khaz Dolu guard.

Do Shoi was a most bustling and hectic city that contrasted with the calmness of the valley. The heart of the city pumped rivers of people through its main arteries, straight and asphalted, flanked by walls with narrow, colorful facades whose roofs met at the top, sloping to spit the water that ended up in the river through the gutters.

I strolled through the city every day, at first with my tutor and, once I knew my way around, alone. People moved in a hurry, as if time was slipping through their fingers. I saw buildings I had never seen before; trades I would never have imagined. Who wonders how a bottle is made? Who wonders how stamps are made? I learned many things at Do Shoi, many things in a short time.

On the seventh day, I was summoned by Khaz Dolu himself. I went to the palace, accompanied by Dien Phu. We were greeted by a butler adorned in a spotless dark gray suit and most servile who guided us to a room on the highest floor. It was small and the light filtered through the numerous windows, illuminating with total clarity the stretcher in the center as well as the furniture full of drawers and utensils on them. A bald man was waiting for us, elderly, with wise eyes and a kind smile: the surgeon.

I remember lying on the gurney, staring at those convoluted geometric figures on the ceiling. The doctor studied my hole for a while, examined my gums, arranged his utensils on a small table that he brought closer and then loaded a pipe and offered it to me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Sleep,” he said, with an enigmatic little smile. “Breathe in without fear, and when you wake up you’ll feel much better. You’ll see.”

It was exactly as he said. I was cured. I woke up there, in the golden palace. The surgeon had stitched my cheek with skin that, he told me, he took from my, I quote, hairless buttocks. I never knew if he meant it, because I already had some scars on that part, and I never noticed that I pulled more than usual.

But I do remember laughing. We both laughed. It had been a long time since I had laughed, and I had laughed there several times. Then he showed me a mirror and I cried. It was a strange thing. Tears slid down my cheeks, both cheeks. They slid down to the floor. They no longer went in my mouth. I no longer had that salty aftertaste. Without meaning to, I was sobbing and laughing. I was laughing and crying at the same time.

So long had it been since I had looked like a normal person. In fact, I had long since given up looking at myself in a mirror. Because I only saw myself as a monster. The hole-child. I didn’t need a mirror to remind me of that.

I choked back the tears, the laughter. That man fixed my face. I never thought anyone would do that. I felt indebted to him and could not suppress the urge to hug him.

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“Looks like it was a good idea! Such a joy!” exclaimed the Khaz Dolu, coming through the door with my tutor.

“So, An Long, how did it turn out?” asked Dien Phu.

“Perfect, it’s perfect,” I said, grateful. “I look like a normal person.”

“Oh, make no mistake, kid. You are a very special person. And soon you will be even more so,” he paused as he winked at me. “Most of the apprentices have arrived, only Kai Shek’s remains, who will arrive in the afternoon. If I give the go-ahead at dinner, you can leave for the summits tomorrow at the latest.”

*****

The next day was one of the best days of my life. The first of my life with my face fixed, but that was not the reason. The sun was shining brightly high in the sky, as the clouds were driven away by the swift currents of cold air flowing up there. We took off from the southern gate of the city and a human tide came to see us off. Women, men, boys, girls, old men, old women. Many left their jobs momentarily to watch the spectacle. The luckiest, or perhaps the richest, admired it from the top of the towers or their private balconies. The soldiers on patrol on the south side of the rampart also got the best of the view. They all saluted loudly.

We were flying in triangular formation, with Frago, my tutor’s brown dragon, at the head of the squadron. Dien Phu had given me a full rider’s uniform that fit me better than any outfit I had ever had.

It was a two-piece, a comfortable pair of plain black pants with multiple pockets and flexible reinforcements at the knees, and a black doublet with gray patterns. It was a bit baggy, but it didn’t show when I wore the flight jacket, black with red thread and wood-colored buttons. My goatskin boots, the supplest I’d ever owned, hung on either side of the majestic animal’s withers, where its neck ended.

We glided high, cutting through the haze of white clouds and overtaking them with the rush of the wind. From time to time, Dien Phu spurred Frago to transmit some order that he executed instantly: climb, descend, turn or even do some showy acrobatics to, I guess, test my grip. Or my stomach, because as I found out when I arrived, there were some who dropped their breakfast.

The end was the best, when we finally spotted the peaks that Dien Phu had told me so much about. Rows of jagged peaks climbed the void as if reaching for the sky and tearing it apart. Tall and slender, steep and steep. Dozens of vertiginous slopes glazed in gleaming white, studded with gray specks of rock and browns of trunks. Trees grew in unlikely places, bending to face steep precipices as their roots clung desperately to the mountain’s bowels.

“The Sky Comb!” exclaimed one of the new apprentices.

Dien Phu turned to me and winked. He spurred his mount, and then Frago let out a puff of fiery fire that seemed to tear a hole in the nearest cloud.

“Here we go!” exclaimed the dragon rider next to him.

“Yijaaaaaa!” shrieked another one to the four winds.

A navy-blue dragon with whitish stripes was the first to swoop toward the craggy rock towers. It was Drefus, the blue arrow. Dien Phu had already introduced me to them all, and I had learned them all on the first try, as well as asking him hundreds of questions about each of them. Two others followed, one dark green with a brown belly, Drilo the Digger, and the other dark gray with yellow speckles, Darragor the Gobbler. They were followed by more. All the riders rushed towards the Comb. And we finally reacted, trailing behind the others.

There is no use combing your hair when you go to the Comb. It’s a joke that, while it was probably never very funny, did become a saying among dragon riders. My hair fluttered like a hundred butterflies, my teeth clenched to fight the wind that buzzed in my ears, that tore tears from my eyes, that forced me to cling with all my might to Frago’s neck, arms and legs.

It was like giant spikes, huge horns, erect rock stakes sticking out of the bowels of the earth that met at the base in a labyrinth of short natural tunnels and limestone bridges. We flew between them at speeds I thought impossible at the time. We dodged the walls just a few feet away, we shook the branches of the curious vegetation that grew there, we scraped the gravel from the hollows. It was as if each dragon was playing at clearing the cobwebs from the tiniest chink, squeezing through the narrowest of holes, racing to get ahead on the sharpest of curves.

I saw myself crashing to death more than a hundred times. I imagined myself made a mush of bones marking the rock for years or serving as peat for plants. But no. Everything turned out fine. And I was finally in my new house. The one that would be my home for the next five years.