“What have you heard?” Amah asked.

“Many things,” the stonecutter said, “and each more marvelous than the other. They say you carried a dragon’s pearl to your parents in your youth and later predicted the destruction of the first Capital City. They say you know immortals and dragons!”

“Every time a story is told, it changes,” Amah said. “Stories about myself are no different.”

“I was told you were honored by kings, and even invited to reside at the Imperial Palace, but you refused,” the stonecutter continued. “Instead you chose to live in complete seclusion on Never-Ending Mountain.”

“Not in seclusion,” Amah objected. “I have a granddaughter.”

“Ah,” the stonecutter said, a glint of mischief flashing through his lopsided smile. “Then all the rest is true?”

Amah laughed, suddenly appreciating the character of her companion.

“Let me tell you a story,” she said.

There was a girl who had a dragon for a friend. They loved each other dearly, so it was with great sadness when, one day, the dragon told her they must part.

“I’ve been given a mandate from heaven,” he told her. “I will be helping the Blue Dragon bring in spring. It is a great honor. But once I begin, I cannot be seen by mortal eyes. We will never meet again.”

The girl tried to smile at her friend’s good fortune, but she could not hide her dismay.

“I always meant to watch over you,” the dragon said sadly, “but now I cannot. So I looked at your future in the Book of Fortune.”

“You should not have done that,” the girl gasped.

“I had to,” the dragon said. “I could not leave without knowing your future.”

“Don’t tell me!” the girl said, raising her hands to cover her ears. “I should not know!”

The dragon gently lowered the girl’s hands with his claw.

“I must tell you this,” the dragon said. “There will be a day when you will experience the greatest joy and the greatest sadness of your life at the same time. When that happens, you must watch the stone lions of your city. When the eyes of the stone lions turn red, you must take a boat to the closest island. There, you will find the Iron Rod.”

“The Iron Rod?” the girl said. “But it’s at Sea Bottom! To help keep the waters steady.”

“Don’t worry,” the dragon said. “I have already obtained permission to borrow it for you.”

“For me?” the girl asked.

“Yes,” the dragon replied. “For, once you have found the Iron Rod, you must grab hold of it and not let go until the destruction is over.”

“The destruction?” the girl said.

“The city will be destroyed. It has nothing to do with you, but you must not be there when it happens,” the dragon said. “When it is over, throw the Iron Rod back into the sea.”

“Throw the Iron Rod…” the girl said. “But it must be enormous! How could I even lift it?”

“The Iron Rod changes according to what is needed,” the dragon said. “The Sea King’s daughter even uses it as a needle sometimes. But that matters not. Do you understand all else I have said?”

The girl nodded.

“Do not forget,” the dragon said. The forest fragrances of pine trees drifted around them. The dragon looked at her once more.

“I will always remember you,” he said. Then he leaped into the air and flew away, the girl’s tears blurring her last sight of him.

Many years passed, and, while she never forgot the dragon, his warning faded in significance. The girl grew to be a woman, married, had a child, and was quite happy. The woman was bestowed many honors and accolades throughout her life, but her daughter brought her greater joy than any of them. So, even though it was not tradition, after her husband died, the woman went to live with her newly married daughter in the city.

The woman, who was now old, did not enjoy city life. The city seemed coldhearted to her—merchants were ruthless in their dealings and masters callous to their servants, and all called her naive when she objected. However, she was content enough, and they lived in harmony together.

Then the old woman’s daughter had a baby of her own. But, alas, she did not live through childbirth. So, as the old woman held the new baby tenderly, she rained tears of sorrow and joy upon it, and the baby’s first bath was the unusual mixture of love and loss. For the birth of her beloved grandchild was just as the dragon had told her, the greatest joy and sadness at the same time.

And remembering this, the old woman began to watch the eyes of the stone lions of the city. She worried for others, warning any who would listen to her: “When the lions’ eyes turn red,” she told people, “the city will be destroyed.” But no one believed her. As time went on, she became the laughingstock of the city. Embarrassed, her son-in-law pleaded and yelled by turns for her to stop her warnings, but the old woman did not.

Finally, an unkind man decided to taunt her with more than words. When she arrived at the statues, he took out a jar of red paint and began to splash it upon the eyes of the lions. “They’re red now!” he mocked. “Should we be scared? Will the city be destroyed now?”

The old woman stood silently for a long moment, then she ran back to her home, grabbed her prepared bag of possessions, and begged her son-in-law to flee with her. Her son-in-law, who had heard what had happened, felt he had borne enough disgrace. He stormed out, telling her he regretted ever marrying her daughter and that she and the baby were not welcome in his house. So, tying the baby to her chest, the old woman left for the seashore.

The nearest island was nothing more than a giant rock with the barest scrub of green. As the old woman approached in a rowboat, the birds swooped away in a billowing black curve and she saw that in the middle of the empty rock grew a strange tree. It was straight and branchless, and when the old woman got nearer, she realized it was made of metal. It was the Iron Rod.

As soon as her fingers grazed the cold metal, the earth began to grumble. The old woman quickly wrapped one arm around the Iron Rod, clasping her grandchild protectively with the other.

And she was just in time. For, as if all the earth dragons were waking from nightmares, the grumbles became snarls and the sea began to bellow. Huge waves crested and covered them, leaving the old woman gasping. She clung even tighter to the Iron Rod and the baby, who only stared up at her grandmother with eyes as old as a mountain.