Rise of the Dragon

by C K Gold

  The pair returned to the old Four Winds compound. The scars of battle were long gone, now. The Rootless Society had found fertile ground here. The days of turning to banditry during the bad times were over. The Four Winds had blown themselves out, leaving the remnants of their unclaimed fortune to the Docksiders.

  That fortune was an unparalleled opportunity for the ordinary people of the district: at last they had a safe, stable place to organize around, and the means to sustain such an organization. The first guild was born in Dockside.

  Others followed.

  But for now, Fang was nearly content. With the help of his friends, even those who didn’t realize they were friends, he had avenged his family. The road to justice was long and winding, and he hadn’t yet repaid everyone guilty, but he had faith. Hard work would eventually bring about the downfall of the imperial officials who were no doubt behind the purge of the temples. The wheels were in motion. Justice turned slowly, but its grind was exceedingly fine.

  Society members bustled about the main yard of the compound, but a few paused in their tasks to welcome Fang and Birch. One whole side of the yard was dominated by a couple dozen people practicing fighting forms as demonstrated by a grim-looking young woman. If everyone else was infected with optimism, well, she had reason to be grave: she was Wing’s younger sister.

  Wing herself remained at large. Fang suspected she was still lurking, waiting for a chance to strike, but Birch had dismissed those worries. The spy and would-be assassin had surely abandoned Deepwater as soon as she learned of Ranu’s death. There was no reason to stick around after Ranu died; there was no one left to pay her. She could be anywhere. The Empire of Ten Thousand Cities offered many comfortable hiding places.

  Fang wasn’t so sure. The Demons were still strong, and if the Moon Knives had fallen into chaos, well, that didn’t mean there were no lieutenants there with a grudge.

  Dwelling on Wing would only ruin what remained of a fine afternoon. Fang and Birch eventually reached the mansion’s uppermost apartment. The residence was quiet – all the new tenants were out and about.

  Fang paused in the doorway and sniffed. “Is that…?”

  “Hm?” Birch sniffed. “Smells good.”

  It didn’t take long to discover the source of the delicious aroma. Someone had laden the table with a feast for two, and had left a note as well. The mysterious benefactor was Orchid, of course; who else had gotten to learn all Fang’s favorites over the years?

  In the bad old days, Fang would have been too paranoid about poisoning to even consider eating the spread here. He twisted a tiny, roasted leg from a game bird and tested it.

  “Ah,” he said, “doves.” He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he’d let his guard down lately.

  Birch grinned. “I hope you’ve worked up an appetite.”

  Fang eyed him up and down. “More than enough for this meal.”

  “Don’t get too fresh or it’s cold dove for you.” Birch leaned into an affectionate caress before digging into the fruits of the season which Orchid had selected for them. She still had the touch, though. Fang had all but forgotten his promise to himself, sworn months ago now, that he’d eat all the doves he could stand once he’d finished the job. At the time he’d meant killing Boar, but he couldn’t deny that this was a grand reward for all their efforts.

  Birch caught Fang’s eyes. “She’s fine,” he said, as though he could read Fang’s thoughts. “She’s happy. She wouldn’t have stayed otherwise.”

  “I’d like to see her fly free,” Fang blurted. It wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but Birch just smiled.

  “Maybe she will. She stuck around to make sure we both made it. Though if she does move on, I don’t know who’s gonna be the brains of this operation.”

  Fang waved a tiny thighbone at him. “Well, I—”

  “Everyone knows that you are actually, provably full of hot air, and if you can think with your fists, you will.” Birch crunched into a pear. “Which is fine, but sometimes an organization needs a more cunning touch. You can’t punch every problem into submission.”

  “Cunning like cosmetics and opera robes?” Fang asked, batting his eyelashes.

  “Hey, you liked it!”

  “I’d like you in anything. And particularly in nothing.”

  Birch’s ears turned red. “But it looked good, right?”

  Realization crept over Fang. “You weren’t really using that as a disguise, were you? You were – you were seducing me.”

  “But did it work?”

  Fang had loved him anyway, had loved him before that unbidden, spontaneous kiss in the Rose Maze, and had loved him for longer than he remembered. He caught Birch’s hand and stole a bite from his pear.

  “Of course it did,” he said, then stole a juice-sweet kiss. “You can do the lip color again. And that eye thing,” he added as an afterthought.

  “Any other orders?” Birch rolled his eyes, but no man was immune to flattery.

  Fang leaned over again, intending to let the rest of the doves go cold in favor of a little wandering, but a tapping at the door stopped him.

  “Not right now,” he said without looking back.

  “Umm,” came Goat’s stammer. “You’ll wanna see this.”

  “Can’t it wait?” Fang took his hand out of Birch’s tunic, but he wasn’t ready to give up on his peaceful afternoon quite yet.

  “You really want to see this,” Goat said. “Both of you.”

  “It might be important,” Birch said, arching a brow as though he hadn’t been doing anything lewd under the table a mere moment ago.

  Fang rose and straightened out his clothes. “All right, all right. Heaven help you if this is a waste of my time,” he called out.

  Goat waited in the corridor. He was pale and wide-eyed as though he’d seen a ghost.

  Now more concerned than annoyed, Fang took him by the shoulder. “What is it? Out with it.”

  “Someone took it,” Goat said. “The dragon stone is gone.”

  Fang shook his head. Impossible.

  “What about the rest of the treasury?” Birch asked. “Where were the guards?”

  “Almost everything else still seems to be there. Maybe a little money’s gone. The thieves knocked out the guards.”

  Birch pressed on. “Did anyone see them?”

  “I don’t know,” Goat replied. “The guards haven’t woken up yet.”

  “Walk and talk,” Fang said, and made for the stairs.

  The treasury wasn’t far away. Fang didn’t miss the joke here. Someone had hit the Society where it hurt – just like they, in turn, had hit the Moon Knives, all thanks to the key he’d stolen from Boar.

  A runner on an errand had noticed a foot sticking out of the bushes by the treasury. She’d investigated and found both guards knocked out and dragged into the little grove around the small, detached building.

  “I’m going to cut down every last flower there,” Fang muttered.

  The thieves must have had a key, or at least a copy of one, though the means eluded Fang. He’d replaced all the locks and strongboxes so that none of the old guard could succumb to temptation. The only keys were in the hands of people he trusted – himself, Birch, and Orchid. He and Birch wore their keys.

  And Orchid met them at the treasury. The first thing she did was silently show the key that she wore on a chain around her neck.

  “I found where they came over the wall,” Orchid said. She led the three of them past a small storage room towards a corner of the outer wall. There, hidden from easy view of the treasury, was a soft patch of freshly disturbed dirt. Someone had crushed a few of the plants there and left clear footprints.

  Very small footprints.

  A scrap of sackcloth and a few strands of rope remained on the jagged shards Red Hand had ordered installed to keep intruders from climbing over the walls. The sackcloth was a little bloodstained where it’d caught on a nasty point.

  “I’ve heard there are some wizards wh
o can track a person by their blood,” Goat said.

  Fang started, “Even if that’s true, we don’t know any wizards—”

  At the same time, Birch said, “Magic is expensive and risky.”

  Orchid sighed.

  “Where are the guards now?” Fang asked. “And who was on duty?”

  “You’re not going to like it…” Goat glanced at Orchid.

  “I had them moved inside. They’ve both got large knots on their heads,” she said.

  “Who?” Fang narrowed his eyes.

  She sighed again. “Jun and—”

  Fang had already stopped listening. He whirled around and sprinted back to the mansion, startling those who had almost certainly not heard the news yet.

  He threw open every door he came across until he found Jun and the other guard being looked after by another Society member. The other guard groaned, but Fang didn’t care. Jun’s one eye was open; he was clearly awake, because he sat partway up when Fang burst into the room.

  “You!” Fang thundered. “Didn’t I tell you I’d crush you if you even thought about betraying me?”

  Jun reclined again, just as calm and composed as a man recovering from a good night out. In the dark room, Fang could just make out a purpling bulge at his temple.

  Fang didn’t care about that. He swept everything off the table between the two guards’ beds. The caretaker, unnoticed, took the opportunity and fled.

  “Get it over with then,” Jun said, and closed his eye.

  Fang grabbed the man by the throat. It took everything he had not to squeeze when the other guard groggily spoke up.

  “He was really knocked out,” the man said. “I tried to help, but she got me, too.”

  “She?” Fang growled. Jun didn’t move. Not even a single muscle flexed under Fang’s hand.

  “Wing. She said she wanted to come back.”

  “I told her to leave,” Jun said at last. “Then I figure she hit me, because I don’t recall much else.”

  Fang bared his teeth. “You paying women to knock you out now?”

  “When would I have a chance?” Jun asked. Fang couldn’t say much to that. He kept at least one man on Jun at all times. The guard was one of them – all people he or Birch trusted. “I should’ve been the one knocking her out. I failed.”

  Birch, Orchid, and Goat crowded in behind Fang.

  “I told you you should’ve killed him,” Birch sniffed.

  Fang released Jun, who thoughtfully rubbed his throat. “I’m giving you one more chance,” Fang said. “You find her, you bring back that stone, or I’ll feed you to the alligators. I don’t care what you have to do. You get that stone.” If Jun vanished into the furthest reaches of the empire, so be it.

  Jun sat up slowly. “Then I’ll get my things.” He paused, looking at each of them in turn. “I know what that stone did to you. All of you. If I’ve let that out into the world again… If I can’t get it back, you can have my head.”

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  C. K. Gold is tucked away in coastal New England, writing books, brewing hooch, and petting cats. She might be a witch.

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