by Troy Denning
Ruha returned Fowler's glare with a disdainful glance.
"And what of the people I am to meet in Pros? How long will they wait?" She looked back to Hsieh. "Put us ashore in Pros, and I will ask only one reward of you."
Hsieh glanced at her sodden aba, no doubt reevaluat- ing his first impression of her wealth. Only a woman of great resources would decline the reward he had promised.
The mandarin inclined his head. "If it is in my power, I give you whatever you ask."
"Please tell me about the dragon. Why did it attack your ship?"
"That's our reward?" Fowler bellowed.
Hsieh's glance darted from Fowler to his crewmen.
Two men quickly flanked the captain, their heads rising barely as high as the half-ore's brawny shoulders.
"Aboard Ginger Lady, even captain respect Lady." Hsieh warned.
Fowler's eyes flashed at the admonishment, but he stood very still and made no further protests.
Hsieh turned back to Ruha, arching his fine eyebrows.
"I do not understand question. Dragon attacks ship to steal gold. That is reason dragon does anything."
Ruha shook her head. "That wyrm was not an ordinary one, nor does the Ginger Lady seem an ordinary ship. The creature attacked you for another reason, and the reward I ask is that you tell me why."
A nervous croak slipped from Fowler's lips. Before the sound could become a word, the guards seized his hands and folded his wrists inward against their joints. The half-ore hissed in pain and looked away from the witch.
The mandarin pretended not to notice the captain's slip, but his face lost all expression and became as unreadable as a stone. "I do not understand, Lady Ruha.
Why do you believe we know dragon?"
The image of a yellow face changing into a black dragon flashed through Ruha's mind, but she did not even consider telling Hsieh about the mirage. Judging by
Fowler's reactions so far, the Shou were a dangerous people, and she had no idea how they might react to her visions.
Ruha paused to pick her words, then said, "Does the Ginger Lady not carry a dragon's figurehead on her prow? And was my captain mistaken when he called your emperor the Jade Dragon instead of the Jade Monarch?"
Fowler closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.
The mandarin showed no sign of anger-or any other emotion. "Lady Ruha, greatest dragons are not evil. I do not know why evil dragon attacks Ginger Lady, except to take gold. I go to Elversult on unfortunate business that has nothing to do with dragon. I never see that dragon before."
"This unfortunate business you speak of, could it involve the dragon?" Ruha asked.
The narrowing of Hsieh's eyes was barely perceptible, but it was enough to alarm Fowler.
"Lady Ruha, the Shou are an honorable bunch."
Though the captain struggled to keep his tone deferen- tial, Ruha could hear both anger and fear lurking just beneath the surface. "If the mandarin's business has something to do with the dragon, he'd say so. It's-uh-bad manners to hint he's holding back."
Hsieh nodded. "Am so sorry. Lady Ruha, but you make poor bargain to trade your due for what little I know of dragon. Perhaps I find some other way to reward your noble service." The mandarin spoke to his men, then went to the cabin's shattered doorway and bowed to Ruha. "Until then, I am most happy to leave you in Pros."
Four
The sky above the Ginger Palace was lucid and azure, as it could be nowhere but the arid plain south of the city ofElversult. Anticipating a pleasant morning of solitude in the confines of his private park. Prince
Tang crossed the humped back of Five Color Bridge, strode down the opal- paved Path of Delight, and stopped beneath the irides- cent curve of the Arch of Many-Hued Scales.
From the sleeve pocket of his maitung-the long silken tunic favored by Shou noblemen-the prince withdrew a large golden key. It was shaped like a chameleon's head, with broad shoulder flanges and a sinuous blade resem- bling a long, flickering tongue. He rapped the top three times against the entryway's red-lacquered gates, then inserted the blade into a brass keyway, turned the latch, and pushed the heavy portals aside.
Prince Tang did not find his pets arrayed before the gate, as they customarily were. Instead, the rocky plaza was strangely barren, save for a half dozen buzzing, blue- black mounds scattered along one edge. Beyond the dron- ing fly clusters, twenty quartzite boulders imported from
Calimshan had been torn from their footings and strewn over the carefully shaped dunes of the park's desert quar- ter. In the forest region, circles of bark had been scratched around the trunks of the most exotic trees, and in the iungle zone, the meticulously strung jasmine vines lay sliced and twined about the base of the bamboo stalks.
The swamp area was covered with tangled mats of pink and blue and yellow, decorative grasses torn from the bottom and left to drift on the murky waters, while the lotus blossoms and lily pads had been thrown onto the muddy bank to wither and die.
Tang could see only one of his pets, an elusive, jet- black river monitor. The great lizard had dragged itself from the swamp and stretched its fifteen-foot length over a stone bench, leaving its webbed feet, thick tail, and slender head to dangle over the sides. The beast's neck was twisted toward the gate, as though it had been awaiting the prince's arrival when the last gleam of hope seeped from its dull eyes.
Tang stared at the lifeless monitor for several bewil- dered moments, then finally realized that some con- temptible barbarian had violated the sanctity of his garden. He retreated through the Arch ofMany-Hued Scales, screaming as though he had been stabbed.
At the first shriek, a company of ten sentries appeared on the Path of Delight, emerging from camouflaged posts behind the walkway's white-blossomed hedges. In the blink of an eye, Tang was encircled by a bristling wall of scale-armored men equipped with long, curve-bladed hal- berds. They neither touched their master nor inquired as to the reason for his scream, but simply stood ready to obey his orders and defend his life.
Prince Tang entered his garden again, his protective shell of soldiers compressing around him as he passed through the arch. He stopped inside the gateway, remain- ing silent while his guards examined the scene. He did not speak until their tortoise-shell helmets had stopped pivoting on their shoulders and the last gasp had fallen silent.
"How does this happen?" demanded the prince. "Is it not your duty to protect Garden of Flickering Tongues?"
The company officer, a young moon-faced noble named Yuan Ti, dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the stones at Tang's feet. "Mighty Prince, your guards fail you." Since his voice was directed at the ground Yuan sounded as though he were mumbling. "We see no one enter garden."
The prince snorted at the explanation. "How could it be otherwise? If you see intruder, he would be dead would he not?" Only Tang himself used the garden; not even his wife, Princess Wei Dao, was allowed inside.
Though Yuan could not see the gesture with his head pressed to the ground, the prince waved his hand at the destruction. "But does no one hear falling of stones, or scratching of trees, or ripping of vines?"
Yuan kept his brow pressed to the ground. "Great Majesty, your unworthy guards hear nothing, smell noth- ing, feel nothing. Please to punish."
Tang ignored the request. "Go search garden."
The prince could not imagine how his guards had missed the sound of the park being destroyed, but he knew the young noble would never lie to him. No Shou officer would commit such a treason, and not only because he feared for his family's heads. The offense would dishonor his ancestors, causing them to lose their places in the Celestial Bureaucracy-an offense said ancestors would surely repay with all manner of curses and incurable plagues.
While the guards searched the park, Tang retreated through the gate and waited outside, praying to the spir- its of his ancestors to guide his sentries to the vandal who had destroyed his park. Although the imperial weapon- masters had taught him to wield a sword as well
as any man, it did not even occur to him to stay in the garden and exact vengeance himself. From his earliest childhood, the prince had been taught to retreat from danger and call his guards to take care of the problem. It was a lesson he had not ignored once in thirty years of life.
At length, the sentries returned with unbloodied weapons and bowed to Tang. "Garden of Flickering Tongues is safe for Mighty Prince."
"You do not find vandal?"
Yuan shook his head. "Only lizards, and only lizard tracks."
Tang considered this, puzzled not by who had ravaged his garden or why-he knew the answers to both ques- tions-but by how the intruder had infiltrated the heart of his palace, vandalized the park, and escaped with his life. Truly, such a feat was as worthy of admiration as it was of indignation.
When he could not think of how the culprit had escaped. Tang sighed wearily. "How unfortunate you did not capture the intruder. He has given me much work to do." The prince always tended his garden himself, calling for aid only when he needed help to move something heavy. "Return to your posts and punish each other, ten lashes each."
The faces of the sentries fell. Given the magnitude of their failure, such a light punishment was humiliating.
Its temperance implied that Tang believed them incapable of doing better-which happened to be the case, though the prince did not fault the guards for their inad- equacy. Even the most devoted sentries could not capture intruders they could not see or hear, or find trespassers who left no tracks. Such tasks required a wu-jen. Unfor- tunately, the Minister of Magic was currently at odds with Tang's own sponsor, Mandarin Hsieh Han Liu, the Imperial Minister of Spices. Consequently, the Emperor's wu-jens were considered too valuable to waste on an inconsequential embassy like the Ginger Palace. Such political frustrations were a daily part of the prince's life, and one of the many reasons he preferred the company of lizards to that of men.
Tang waited until the last guard had stepped aside, then took his key from the red-lacquered gates and stepped through the Arch ofMany-Hued Scales. When he turned to close the gates, he glimpsed his guards glumly marching toward the Five Color Bridge and decided it would not do to have them brooding over their failure.
They were an elite company, and an elite company without honor was nothing.
"One thing more, my soldiers," he called. "You must double lashes for any man who fails to draw blood with each whip stroke."
The guards bowed in acknowledgment, and Yuan could barely keep from smiling. "Yes, Mighty Prince."
Tang closed the gate and put the key in his sleeve pocket, leaving the lock unlatched in case the mysterious vandal returned. He fetched a small shovel, a linen sack, and a copper bucket from a tool shanty near the jungle quarter, then took a deep breath and went to the first mound of flies. As he slid the shovel beneath the droning heap, the insects rose into the air, revealing a pile of ran- cid lizard viscera. Fighting his gorge back, he scooped up the entrails and placed them in the sack, then filled his bucket from the swamp and washed the stones.
The work was humiliating for a prince, of course, but Tang preferred doing it himself to having the serenity of his garden disturbed by servants. He cleaned up the other mounds of viscera, then placed the bulging sack by the gate. The entrails had obviously come from the belly of his dead monitor, for none of the other lizards were large enough to hold so many intestines. What the prince did not understand was how the intruder had known it- was his favorite pet, a rare beast captured in the distant land of Chult. Only his personal staff knew how dearly he had paid for the creature, and they would no sooner betray him than his guards would.
Tang returned his tools to the shanty, then went over to the dead monitor. He waved aside a cloud of flies and grabbed the beast by its rear legs.
The beast jerked its feet from the prince's grasp.
Tang cried out and stepped away, his gaze dropping to the black stains that covered the bench and the stones beneath it. The stuff looked like dried blood, and the ran- cid, coppery smell certainly suggested appearances were correct. He did not see how the monitor could have lost so much blood and lived. The great lizard raised its head, fixing a dull-eyed gaze on the prince's face.
"Guards!" Tang stumbled backward toward the gate.
"Yuan! Come quickly!"
The monitor glanced at the gate, and Tang heard the sharp double click of the heavy lock-bolt sliding into its catch. He fished the key from his sleeve pocket and con- tinued to retreat, fighting down his growing panic and trying to decide whether he dared turn his back to make a dash for the gate.
Tang, you cannot flee me.
Tang heard the voice not with his ears, but inside his mind. It was raspy and rumbling, and even if it had come from the monitor's mouth, it would have been much too resonant for a lacertilian throat.
That much, you should remember.
"Cy-Cypress?"
The monitor nodded, and Tang's feet suddenly felt as heavy as boulders. At first, the prince thought the lizard had cast a spell on him, but he quickly realized that was impossible. The beast had uttered no mystic syllables, nor made any arcane gestures with its claws. Instead, Cypress was using what the Shou called the Invisible
Art, an ancient discipline whose practitioners employed nothing but the power of their own minds to perform supernatural acts. Tang had heard that his unwelcome guest was a master of the venerable art, but until now, he had been lucky enough to avoid a demonstration.
Tang's guards arrived at the park entrance and began to hammer on the gates, but they could not break through with anything short of a battering ram. Both portals were reinforced with heavy bands of steel, while the lock itself was the sturdiest Shou smiths could make. The sentries could not even scale the wall, as it was capped with a double crest of barbed spikes.
Cypress slunk off the bench, allowing Tang to glimpse a deep, white-fleshed gash that ran the entire length of the monitor's belly. The beast trundled across the plaza on four stubby legs, then stopped next to the prince's knee and rolled its lifeless gaze over his maitung.
Given that we have not seen you in so long, I find this altogether pretentious, The lizard's tongue darted out to snap at Tang's maitung, which was tailored with overlapping brown patches resembling the spade-shaped scales of an armored skink.
How long has it been since you attended Lair?
"You know I resign."
Cypress slipped behind his captive and lashed out with the monitor's huge tail, catching Tang behind the knees and hurling him face first to the plaza. The prince's nose and mouth erupted in stinging pain, and he felt the unac- customed sensation of warm blood spilling from his nos- trils. He tried to rise and found himself pinned to the ground, his entire body now as heavy as only his feet had been a moment earlier. He screamed, more in rage than anguish, and wished that he had a sword in his hand-and the strength to raise it.
The hammering at the gates ceased, then a sharp boom reverberated across the plaza as several armored bodies slammed into the portals. The thick planks creaked, but the lock did not give way. Cypress circled around in front of the prince, barely glancing toward the gates. have told you, no one resigns from the Cult of the Dragon!
The monitor took Tang's hand in its mouth. The prince cringed, fearing he would soon have a bloody stump at the end of his wrist, but the powerful jaws did not close.
Instead, the beast's agile tongue rolled over Tang's fin- gers, removing his golden rings. After doing the same with the other hand, the dead lizard dropped to its belly and stared the prince in the eye.
" Thank you for the offering. Now, where is my ylang oil?
"Where is Lady Feng?" Tang groaned. "You have oil when I have mother."
A red ember sparked deep within the lizard's eye, then the beast dragged one huge claw across the prince's face.
"You dare scratch me?" Tang squawked, astonished that even a spiteful creature like Cypress would mark a person of Imperial Shou blood. He spat on the beast's snout, then added, "For that,
you die thousand deaths!"
The monitor's gaping jaws opened as though to chomp Tang's head off; then the beast tipped its head sideways and did not bite. I think I shall!
A deep, rumbling laugh-more like a cough-rolled up from someplace deep in the monitor's hollow stomach, and Cypress laid one of the lizard's heavy claws on the prince's shoulder.
I shall die a thousand deaths-a thousand deaths at least!
Cypress removed the foot from Tang's shoulder and backed away, still chuckling. The prince found that his body no longer seemed quite so heavy. He gathered him- self up and stood, one hand pinching his bloody nose.
Another boom echoed across the plaza. The monitor's head turned so that it could watch the arch with one drab eye and Tang with the other.
Lady Feng informs me that only you know how to press the ylang blossoms, so I will spare your life-but I am los- ing patience. If I do not have the oil by tomorrow, I shall start returning your mother in parts.
"What you ask is impossible! Pressing blossoms take one week-"
Don't lie to me! I know how long you need to prepare the oil! The monitor whirled away and started across the plaza. Tomorrow.
A double click sounded beneath the Arch of Many Hued Scales. The gates burst open, and Yuan led the guards into the garden. Several of the men were only half dressed and bleeding from their whip cuts. Their eyes went first to the prince's bloody face, then to the lumbering monitor. To a man, they lowered their hal- berds and charged.
"No! Stand-"
Tang's command came too late. Cypress ran the moni- tor's dark gaze from one end of the company to the other.
As the black eyes fell on each sentry, the man wailed and slapped his palms to his ears, letting his weapon fly from his hands. In a breath's span, all ten guards lay writhing on the ground, screaming madly and bleeding from their ears. The lizard sauntered calmly into the squad's midst, paused to suck the silver honor ring off each man's thumb, and walked out the gate. By the time Cypress had lumbered down the Path of Delight onto the Five Color Bridge, the last sentry had curled into a tight ball and lay staring at the ground in front of him through gray, sunken eyeballs.
