The Veiled Dragon

Eight

Gagged with her own silken veil and forced to kneel upon the brick floor with her wrists bound behind her back to her ankles, Ruha glared at her captors. Tang and Wei Dao stood at the far end of a long lime-washed vault, mincing blossoms and filling the air with a tangy perfume as sweet as cassia. Though clean and tidy enough, the chamber was crammed with all manner of vats, ovens, and other spice-refining apparatus.

Tang and Wei Dao set their knives aside, then gathered up the minced blossoms and carried them to a large screw press in the corner. As soon as their backs were turned, the witch fixed her gaze upon a flickering oil lamp near the door and slipped her gag as the Harpers had taught her, by retracting her lower jaw until she could use her tongue to push it over her lip onto her chin. Beneath her breath, she uttered the incantation of a simple sun spell.

The flame coiled around itself, then leapt off the wick and pirouetted to the floor. Ruha tried to point toward a huge ceramic cask sitting in the corner but, with her hands tied behind her back, she failed miserably. The fire danced across the bricks toward a gleaming copper vat, which caught its light and sent a reddish glint skipping across the ceiling.

Wei Dao’s head cocked slightly.

Ruha bent her finger sharply, directing the flicker toward a black iron caldron. She barely managed to guide the flame behind the pot’s sheltering bulk before Wei Dao turned to scan the ceiling. The witch tongued her gag back into place and waited until her captor’s scrutiny fell on her, then glowered at the princess with a frown that she hoped would look as helpless as it did hateful.

Wei Dao smirked at the witch, then allowed her gaze to roam across the room until it came to the unlit lamp. If she noticed the faint wisps of smoke still rising from the flameless wick, she paid them no attention. The concern vanished from her face, and she turned back to Prince Tang.

“Thisss … dangerous, my husssband.” Wei Dao spoke in Shou, unaware that a wind spell was carrying her voice to Ruha in the Bedine language. Unfortunately, the magic did not work well in the still air of the vault; the words were so breathy and soft that the witch sometimes missed them. “We ssshould … her and be done with it!”

“She ssserve us better alive.” Tang turned the press screw, then glanced at Ruha and allowed his gaze to linger on her naked face for an indecent time, at least by Bedine standards. “We have need of wu-jen.”

“… much trussst in love potion!” Wei Dao pointed a dagger-sharp fingernail at her husband. “Witch use love magic on you, wise husssband.”

Prince Tang shrugged. “It doesss not matter, as long as she love me more. We need wu-jen, and Ruha is wu-jen.”

Wei Dao’s face grew crimson and stormy. The princess was no fool and believed Tang no more than Ruha did; the prince needed the witch’s magic, but he coveted her womanhood.

“How witch love you more?” Wei Dao demanded. “You sssay ylang … not potent.”

“Potent enough for now. When fresssh blossoms arrive, I make better potion.”

Ruha pointed her finger toward the wall behind her. The wayward flame danced from its hiding place and began to skip across the floor.

“You are bad ssson! You risssk mother for—for—” Wei Dao’s sentence sputtered to a halt, and she flung her arm in Ruha’s direction. “You risssk mother’s life for barbarian concubine!”

There was that word again, concubine. Ruha ground her teeth into her gag, biting down until her jaws ached. She did not leave the golden sands of Anauroch to become a prince’s bauble; if the Shou thought differently, she would show them barbarian.

“Not for concubine, for wu-jen.” Tang’s head started to turn in Ruha’s direction, and she barely managed to guide her dancing flame beneath a brazier before his lecherous gaze fell on her face again. “And risk is mossst sssmall.”

Wei Dao shook her head violently. “Already … over the wall!”

Whatever the princess said to the prince, it drew his attention away from Ruha. The witch gestured with her finger, and the lamp flame darted from its hiding place.

“What you think he tell … Hawklyn?” Wei Dao demanded. “What you think witch say if ssshe essscape, too?”

Ruha forgot about her dancing flame. Fowler had escaped! She doubted the half-orc could report anything useful to Vaerana, but at least the witch would not have to add his death to her already overburdened conscience. She circled her finger, guiding the lamp flame, which had curled toward her captors, back toward her.

Prince Tang scowled at his wife. “Why do you not tell me sssooner?”

“You at work in lizard park, leaving me to chase ssspies!” Wei Dao countered. “Perhapsss wise prince ssshould …”

Whatever the princess said, it angered her husband greatly. Tang raised his fist; then, when Wei Dao did not flinch, he turned away and swept a shelf clean of several porcelain jars. They shattered on the floor, releasing a cloud of fine, multihued powders. The prince let his chin drop and stared into the billowing dusts, his eyes focused someplace far beneath the bricks.

The lamp flame reached Ruha’s side. She beckoned it around behind her, scorching her insteps as she guided it between her sandaled feet. Soon, the witch felt a tongue of fire licking at her fingers; then she caught a whiff of burning hemp. She began to move the flame back and forth, never allowing it to rest beneath her bindings for more than a second at a time. The syrupy perfume of minced ylang blossoms still hung in the air, but not so heavily that she dared let the acrid fumes of a rope fire spread through the chamber.

When Prince Tang finally raised his head, he had regained the characteristic composure of the Shou. “What can half-man tell Vaerana Hawklyn?”

Wei Dao lowered her eyes. “It isss impossible to sssay. Guards do not sssee him leave Cinnamon House during night, but neither do they sssee witch go—and we find her in apartment of Lady Feng.”

“Then we assume most wretched prossspect.” The prince took a copper beaker from a shelf and held it beneath the drainage spout of the oil press, then opened the valve. The sound of trickling fluid echoed through the vault, and the tangy smell of the ylang blossoms grew overwhelming in its cloying sweetness. “Perhapsss half-man report mother’s abduction, but that isss crime of Cypress, not Ginger Palace.”

“Vaerana Hawklyn … woman,” Wei Dao observed. “She know we do anything to ransssom mother!”

“But she doesss not realize we must.” Tang did not look up as he spoke. “It is no sssecret that Lady Feng hasss won favor of Yen-Wang-Yeh. Ssso, when Vaerana Hawklyn hear of worthy mother’s abduction, what doesss she think?”

Wei Dao furrowed her carefully plucked eyebrows. “That Cypress needsss Venerable Scholar of Eighteen Hells to sssteal spirit of Yanseldara, of courssse.”

Ruha nearly howled as the lamp flame scorched her knuckles, for she had been listening so intently to her captors’ conversation that she had neglected the tiny fire. Having deduced already that Lady Feng had been abducted for the purpose of stealing Yanseldara’s spirit, the witch found it less surprising that the Shou would cooperate with the kidnappers than that they seemed to think Cypress remained in good health. She moved the lamp flame a safe distance behind her and resumed eavesdropping.

“… more.” Prince Tang closed the drain valve and carried his copper beaker to a marble-topped table. “Vaerana Hawklyn hasss no reason to think Cypress requires more from usss to complete ssspell.”

A sly smile crept across Wei Dao’s painted lips. “Ssso she is looking wrong way at aussspicious time. Perhaps it is good … essscaped, wise husband.” The princess cast a spiteful glare in Ruha’s direction. “Now only witch threaten sssafe return of worthy mother.”

“That sssoon change.” Tang removed the stopper from a small earthenware flask and poured the contents into his copper beaker, then pricked his finger with a needle. He dribbled several drops of blood into the mixture. “When ssshe drinks thisss, her only wish isss to obey me.”

Feeling herself flush with outrage at the prince’s plan, Ruha took several deep breaths. Her best chance to learn more about the theft of Yanseldara’s spirit lay in exploiting Tang’s base cravings, and the witch knew such a plan would fail if anger showed in her face. She tried to calm herself by thinking of the Alam’ra Wall, a beautiful oasis where the sweet waters poured from a cliff of white stone. At the same time, she beckoned the lamp flame closer and resumed the burning of her ropes. One way or another, she would need her hands free. Whether she succeeded in manipulating the prince or not, she had no intention of allowing him to pour his potion down her throat. Besides, Ruha knew better than to think the princess would stand idly by while she tried to win Tang’s confidence. The witch had seen the antagonism between her father’s wives often enough to know that Wei Dao was jealous of her position and would do whatever was necessary to keep her husband from taking a consort.

Prince Tang stirred his concoction with a long glass rod, then poured it into a pewter chalice. He motioned to Wei Dao and started toward Ruha.

“Do not frighten wu-jen,” he said. “For bessst effect, she mussst drink potion of her own accord.”

The witch tested her bonds, found they still held, and lowered the knot into the lamp flame. Even she could not smell the hemp being scorched, so thickly did the cloying reek of ylang oil hang in the chamber. She continued to strain at the rope until her captors were almost upon her. Then, fearing they would notice a wisp of smoke or a flickering reflection behind her, she beckoned the fire into her hands and smothered it between her palms.

Tang and Wei Dao arrived with the love potion. The prince kneeled on the floor before Ruha and pulled her gag over her chin. His wife stood behind him, with one hand close to the wasp knives hanging from her black waist sash.

“If you still have no wish to become my concubine, drink this,” Tang said in Common. He held his chalice to Ruha’s mouth. “It makes you forget what you see in Ginger Palace, so we can release you without fear.”

Gently working her wrists back and forth against her seared bindings, Ruha stared down her nose at the oily pink concoction. It looked about as appetizing as camel’s blood, and its syrupy sweetness was twice as nauseating. The witch could hardly bear to sniff the stuff, much less drink it.

“I have no wish to forget what I have seen in the Ginger Palace.”

“Then you do not leave.”

“Be that as it may, I still will not become your concubine.” Ruha raised her chin. “Such a thing would not be fitting. I am a sheikh’s daughter.”

Tang’s eyes shined with a hopeful gleam and, mercifully, he lowered the chalice. “What do you mean?”

“In Anauroch, a man may take as many wives as his camels can feed.” A muffled grinding sounded between Wei Dao’s clenched teeth, but Ruha ignored the noise and looked deeply into Tang’s eyes. “I suppose a Shou prince can feed as many wives as he wishes.”

“Her insolence is beyond forbearance!” Wei Dao pulled a knife from her sash. “I slay this savage!”

With a movement so swift that Ruha saw only a blur, Tang’s hand lashed out and caught his wife’s wrist. In Shou, he said, “It isss for me to decide what is insssolence.”

“You cannot take barbarian for wife.” Wei Dao protested. “Emperor never invite usss to return.”

The prince shrugged, then pushed Wei Dao’s hand toward her sash. “We need wu-jen if we are ever to be sssafe from Cypress.” He turned back to Ruha. “Please to pardon princess. She is only wife for many years and cannot help being spoiled.”

Ruha continued to work at her bonds and graced the princess with a benevolent smile. “After she grows accustomed to the new arrangement, I am certain we will become great friends.”

Wei Dao’s only response was to thrust her dagger into its sheath, but Tang accepted Ruha’s reply with an equally gracious nod. “Of course that is possible, but what of obligations you speak of earlier? If they interfere with being concubine, how do they not interfere with becoming wife?”

“If you are willing to marry me, then you must also be willing to make one accommodation,” Ruha replied.

“I tell you thisss no good!” Wei Dao scoffed. “If you value mother’s life and honor of Ginger Palace, you let me kill her now”

Ruha cast an impatient glance at Wei Dao. “I suspect our discussion would proceed more smoothly if we were alone, Prince Tang.” She felt something slip in the knot behind her, but her hands did not come free. “Perhaps you could ask the princess to excuse us?”

“Do not be fool. Witch cassst spell on you.”

Prince Tang looked at his wife out of the corner of his eye. “It is better to have princess here—as long as she behaves courteously. Otherwise, perhaps I do as you suggest, wu-jen.” He returned his gaze to Ruha. “Now, tell me of this accommodation you desire.”

“I have every desire to see Lady Feng released, but not at Yanseldara’s expense,” Ruha replied. “If you will stand with Vaerana Hawklyn against the Cult of the Dragon, becoming your wife would not interfere with my obligations.”

“What do I tell you, wise husband? Witch never be good wife.” Then, in Shou, the princess added, “Ssshe baits you like witless bear.”

Tang scowled, but again raised the silver chalice to Ruha’s lips. “Perhaps you should drink, wu-jen. What you ask is impossible.”

Ruha gagged and pulled away from the potion’s mawkish smell. “Why? If it is Cypress you fear, there is no need. He is dead. I destroyed him myself.”

Wei Dao snorted, and the prince raised his brow—but he did not lower the goblet. “Perhaps you do destroy Cypress, but if you think that means there is no reason to fear him, you know nothing.”

“Then tell me.” At last, the rope came apart. Ruha stifled a gasp of surprise and barely kept her wrists from drifting apart to betray her escape. “If I understand, maybe I can help.”

“You are not that powerful, Witch,” said Wei Dao.

Tang was not so quick to denounce Ruha’s abilities. He regarded the witch thoughtfully, then said, “You cannot help, but perhaps you think differently about defying the Cult of the Dragon.”

“I could.” The thought was not entirely outside the realm of possibility.

The prince glanced down at his pink concoction. “But if you still do not change mind, you drink potion?”

“So I will forget what you tell me?” Ruha asked, pretending she did not know the potion’s true purpose. Her ankles were still bound together, and she needed more time to break the scorched rope. “Are you trying to keep the cult’s secrets?”

From the way Wei Dao’s eyes flashed and Tang’s complexion darkened, the witch knew she had hit on a subject worth probing.

“Why should you protect the cult?” Even as Ruha asked the question, the answer came to her. “Are you in it?”

Again, Wei Dao pulled a dagger, but Tang shook his head to stop her from attacking. He looked away from Ruha and fixed his gaze on the chamber door, his expression equal parts shame and relief.

“I join when we come here.” The prince’s voice was hardly a whisper. “In Shou Lung, dragons are magnanimous and most honorable. How do I know they are different in Elversult?”

“Then what happened?” Ruha found herself feeling almost sorry for the hapless prince. “Did you try to quit?”

Tang slowly brought his gaze back to Ruha. “If I answer, you must drink potion.”

Ruha nearly choked on her anger, but she forced herself to give him a beguiling smile. “Of course, assuming you do not convince me to stay.”

“That is most wonderful possibility.” The prince looked away, and again his voice grew low and ashamed. “Cypress does not allow me to leave cult. He says even prince cannot break promise to dragon. He sinks all my ships until I promise to smuggle poisons for his murderers and spell ingredients for his wu-jens. The trade is most lucrative, but I cannot sleep.”

Ruha cringed to think of what would trouble Tang’s conscience. “But why would he attack one of your ships now? You are still doing as he demands?”

Tang’s head spun back to Ruha. “He attacks one of my ships?”

“Yes, the Ginger Lady.”

The prince’s face paled to the color of ivory, but it was Wei Dao who demanded, “How do you know this?”

“Because that is when I destroyed him.” Ruha’s fingers finally managed to undo the rope around her ankles, but the witch made no move to escape. “He did not sink the ship—it did not appear that he was trying—but if you are still smuggling poisons for the cult, I do not understand why he attacked it at all.”

The prince turned to his wife. “He wissshes to kill Hsieh!”

The princess promptly shook her head. “Cypress grows impatient. It isss only warning.”

“What good is warning we do not hear about?” Tang countered. “He fearsss Hsieh comes to ssstop smuggling.”

“How can Cypress know esssteemed mandarin is on Ginger Lady? Even we do not know until lassst week.”

Tang considered Wei Dao’s point for a moment; then the color came back to his face. He returned his attention to Ruha.

“I tell you about Cult of the Dragon.” He lifted the chalice to her mouth. “Now you drink.”

Ruha turned away from the awful smell. “You have not told me why you still fear the cult, when you know I have already destroyed Cypress.”

“Perhaps I do not believe you have.” Tang swung the cup around to her lips. “Drink.”

This time, Ruha did not turn away. It seemed reasonable for Tang to assume she might lie about destroying Cypress, but she still had not discovered what the cult needed to complete the theft of Yanseldara’s spirit. She held her breath and, very briefly, touched her lips to the cup rim—then pulled away and looked into the prince’s eyes.

“Before drinking, I must be certain there is no hope of resolving our differences. Allow me one more question.”

Tang groaned and lowered the awful-smelling potion. “Ask.”

“What more—”

Ruha’s question was interrupted by the muffled barking of a Shou voice outside the vault; then the steel door swung open. Into the chamber swept four men wearing long, yellow hauberks of silk-jacketed scale armor. Emblazoned on each of their chests was a scarlet wyvern, the personal crest of the Mandarin Hsieh Han Liu.

Upon seeing the crest, both Tang and Wei Dao gasped. The prince barely managed to stand by the time the minister’s assistant, the obsequious Yu Po, strode into the room. He stopped just inside the door and, still flanked by Hsieh’s guards, regarded Ruha’s captors with a disdainful sneer.

Yu Po tipped his body forward in a discourteously shallow bow. “I am Yu Po, Consssummate Scribe to Esssteemed Mandarin Hsieh Han Liu.”

The intrusion shocked Ruha as much as it did Tang and Wei Dao. The refinery vault was hidden in a secret basement beneath the palace’s great spicehouse. Even had she anticipated Hsieh’s arrival so early in the day, she would no more have expected Yu Po to search out and intrude upon the prince and princess here than in their private apartments.

“Welcome to Ginger Palace,” said Tang, still holding the ylang potion. Both he and his wife returned the scribe’s bow with surprising deference. “We expect Minister Hsieh’s arrival for many daysss now.”

“We encounter many delaysss,” Yu Po returned coldly.

“Pleassse excuse us,” said Wei Dao. “We join esteemed Mandarin in Hall of Amity, but firssst we must dispose of intruding thief”

Wei Dao waved a hand in Ruha’s direction and drew an angry glare from Prince Tang, who would no doubt now find it most awkward to present the witch to anyone in Hsieh’s party as either wife or concubine. Not knowing what else to do, Ruha remained on her knees and pretended she was still bound. If escape had looked barely feasible before, when she had to contend only with the lightning fast reflexes of Tang and Wei Dao, it now seemed impossible.

Yu Po studied Ruha for a few moments; then, in Common, he said, “It is difficult to say what Lady Ruha is, but it seems most unlikely she is thief.”

“You know her?” Wei Dao gasped.

In the same instant, Prince Tang whirled on Ruha. “Lady Ruha?” he demanded, looking hurt. “You do not tell me you are lady! Is it custom where you come from to be one man’s concubine and become another’s wife?”

Yu Po arched his thin eyebrows. “First she is thief, then she is wife?” He chuckled, then said, “So sorry, but wedding must wait.” The adjutant motioned a pair of guards toward Ruha.

Both Tang and Wei Dao paled and quickly stepped in front of the witch. “She is guest of Ginger Palace,” Tang declared. “You may not take her without my permission.”

Yu Po’s eyes grew as black as obsidian. “Then you come outside and explain this to Minister Hsieh,” the adjutant growled. “After treatment Esteemed Mandarin receives from barbarians, he is most happy to hear that you defy him, I am sure.”

Tang glanced at his wife, then asked, “What barbarians?”

Yu Po’s face darkened. “Vaerana Hawklyn and her company of knaves!” He was sounding more angry all the time. “First they dare to surround Emperor’s caravan and search wagons for what they call ‘contraband’— Esteemed Mandarin is most interested to learn why Ministry of Spices does not know of trade in oleander leaves and puffer fish venom—and now they insult Emperor by holding Minister Hsieh hostage!”

“Hostage?” Tang gasped.

Yu Po nodded. “As we approach Ginger Palace, Lady Ruha’s half-man rushes down road and claims to Vaerana Hawklyn that you abduct his mistress. Minister Hsieh promises her release, but savage woman refuses his gracious offer and declares she does not release Emperor’s caravan until witch is free.”

Ruha cursed Vaerana for a meddling interloper. The Lady Constable had just destroyed any hope that remained of discovering what the cult needed to complete the theft of Yanseldara’s spirit.

Yu Po glanced at Ruha’s kneeling form, then leveled a stern gaze at Tang. “Do you still wish to keep ‘guest’ locked inside Ginger Palace?”

“No.” The prince kneeled before Ruha and held the silver chalice to her lips. “She is free to leave as soon as she drinks potion.”

Ruha grimaced at the reek of the syrupy elixir. She took her hands from behind her back and roughly pushed the cup away, then rose to her feet. “I have no wish to drink that rancid stuff.”

The jaws of both Tang and Wei Dao fell when they saw the seared bonds hanging from her ankles and wrists. The prince managed to recover his wits quickly enough to grab her arm and thrust the potion toward her face. “You break promise!”

“I said I would drink a potion of forgetfulness,” Ruha snapped. “That is a love potion, and I assure you that without fresh ylang blossoms, it could not possibly be strong enough.”

With that, the witch brushed past her astonished captors. She snatched her jambiya off a table, then stepped into the protection of Yu Po and his guards. “Will you please take me out of here?”

The adjutant waved her through the door. They climbed a set of stone stairs and exited the spicehouse via a secret door. With two guards leading the way and two following behind, the young Shou escorted Ruha past the enclosure where Tang kept his pet lizards, through a wicket door in the bulwark that separated the rear grounds from those in front, and straight toward the main gates. As they walked, Yu Po said nothing and stared straight ahead, pretending not to see the many puzzled residents of the Ginger Palace who had gathered to watch them leave.

By the time they passed through the gateway, Ruha had untied her veil and fastened it back into place over her face. She found Vaerana and Fowler, now dressed in his customary trousers and tunic, waiting for her on the portico. The Lady Constable glowered at Ruha, then took her by the arm and hustled her down the stairs toward the white-bricked avenue, where a long line of driverless wagons stood drawn up alongside the ginkgo forest. Minister Hsieh and the caravan drivers were huddled together on the opposite side of the road, surrounded by a circle of mounted Maces.

As soon as their feet touched the white bricks, Vaerana released Ruha and glared down at Yu Po—she was a full head taller than most of the Shou. “Wait here. I’ll send Minister Hsieh along when I’m sure the witch is unharmed.”

“That is not our agreement.”

“All right—I’ll let the mandarin go when I’m good and ready,” Vaerana growled. “If you don’t like that, go back and fetch your little prince. I’ll trade Hsieh for him anytime.”

Yu Po’s nostrils flared ever so slightly, but he bowed and did his best to conceal his outrage.

The Lady Constable led the way a short distance down the white-bricked avenue, and then, a dozen paces before they reached Tombor and the horses, suddenly stopped. She grabbed Ruha’s arm and, unable to control her anger another moment, dragged the witch off the road. With Fowler following close behind, the two women slipped between two driverless wagons and walked twenty paces into the forest, where the fan-leafed ginkgo trees were so thick that it would be impossible for anyone on the road—Shou or otherwise—to see or hear what passed between them.

“This is worse than Voonlar!” Vaerana hissed. “Couldn’t you spend even one night without getting caught? I almost didn’t make it back in time to save you.”

“I did not need to be saved!” Arguing with the Lady Constable would do little to improve her standing with the Harpers, but she was as angry as Vaerana—and with better reason. “Yu Po could not have arrived at a worse time.”

“I suppose Prince Tang was going to hand the staff over?” Vaerana tugged derisively at the heavy cloth of Ruha’s aba. “And what’s this? Is this what you think a Sembite spice trader looks like?”

“I know less about Sembite spice traders than you do about good manners,” Ruha shot back. “It was better to pose as someone I could impersonate.”

Vaerana narrowed her eyes and moved forward until she was standing chin-to-chin with the witch. “We found out in Voonlar what happens when you think. You should’ve done what I said.”

Fowler slipped an arm between Vaerana and Ruha. “If she’d done what you wanted, we’d still be sitting in the courtyard with that back-stabbing dwarf Tombor claimed was a guide.” The captain pushed the women apart, then interposed himself between them. “It was only the Lady Witch’s disguise and her quick thinking that got us invited to stay the night at all.”

Vaerana’s eyes widened at the rebuke. Her cheeks turned crimson and she dropped her eyes in embarrassment. “I shouldn’t be sharpening my blade on you, Witch. Whatever happened, your life was the one at risk.” She backed away and said, “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

Ruha glanced at Fowler. “I do not know how much the captain could tell you—”

“Not much,” Fowler interjected. “I waited all night for you to come back and started to worry when you didn’t return before dawn. Then the Shou went crazy, running all over swinging their boarding pikes around like they were trying to cut up the air, and I knew they had to be looking for you. I cut a hole through the roof of the guest house, then climbed over the wall and ran for the trees. Sorry I didn’t stay, but I wasn’t going to be much help.”

“You made the right choice,” Ruha replied. “And matters did not go so badly.”

Vaerana’s eyes lit up. “Then you know where the staff is?”

Ruha shook her head. “I am sorry. But I do know it is not inside the Ginger Palace.”

A dark curtain descended over Vaerana’s face. “Not inside? But it’s Shou magic stealing Yanseldara’s spirit—my sages are sure of it!”

“Yes, and Prince Tang’s mother is casting the spell, as you suspected,” Ruha said. “But Lady Feng has been abducted.”

“Someone stole her?” Fowler’s tone was incredulous. “From the Ginger Palace?”

Ruha nodded, then described all that she had discovered, from Lady Feng’s starving familiar to Prince Tang’s unwitting enrollment in the Cult of the Dragon.

Vaerana listened rather impatiently until the witch finished, then regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “It looks like I owe you an apology—if you’re sure of this.”

“Of everything I have described, yes,” Ruha replied. “But I do not understand why the cult is going to all this trouble to steal Yanseldara’s spirit. Wouldn’t it have been simpler for them just to kill her?”

Vaerana made a half-nod. “Sure, but then they wouldn’t rule Elversult. If they control Yanseldara, they control the city.”

Though not entirely satisfied with Vaerana’s explanation, Ruha lacked a better one and saw no use in jeopardizing their developing truce by contradicting the Lady Constable.

“Assuming you are correct, the cult may be further from its goal than we think,” Ruha said. “To complete the theft of Yanseldara’s spirit, the Cult of the Dragon needs something more from Prince Tang.”

“What?” Vaerana demanded, once again sounding impatient and pushy. “If we deny them, can we stop Yanseldara from getting any sicker?”

“I could not learn the answer to either of your questions.” Ruha looked away from Vaerana’s disappointed face, restraining the urge to add that the Lady Constable’s ‘rescue’ had ruined her chances of discovering more. “The cult could need anything: an instrument from Lady Feng’s apartment, ingredients from the palace’s warehouse, perhaps something from Yanseldara’s home.”

“No, nothing from Moonstorm House,” Vaerana objected. “They wouldn’t have one chance in ten thousand of getting anything from there.”

“How do you suppose they got her staff?” asked Fowler.

Vaerana shot the half-orc a murderous glare, then turned back to Ruha without answering his question. “Your mission wasn’t a total loss, Witch,” she said, trying to be magnanimous and failing miserably. “At least you gave me some idea of what I’ll need to ask.”

“Ask?” Fowler grunted. “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking you are, I want my gold now.”

Vaerana frowned at the half-orc. “I can’t pay out of Elversult’s treasury. You’ll get your gold after we take the palace.”

“You intend to storm the Ginger Palace?” Ruha gasped.

“Can you think of a better way to get my hands on Tang?”

Ruha shook her head. “No, but I doubt interrogating him will do you any good. The prince is too afraid of Cypress. He refuses to believe I destroyed the dragon.”

“Well, you did,” Vaerana growled. “Hsieh will tell him that!”

“Somehow, I do not think it will matter.” Ruha thought for a moment, trying to recall Tang’s exact words when she told him she had destroyed the dragon. “He said ‘Perhaps you do destroy Cypress, but if you think that means there is no reason to fear him, you know nothing.’ I thought he was referring to the Cult of the Dragon, but now that I reconsider …”

“Something strange is happening,” Vaerana agreed. “I’ve heard reports that the cult’s paying good gold to fishermen for tiny pieces of that dragon you killed.”

“That’ll hardly drain their treasure boxes,” Fowler observed. “The sharks got most of the carcass.”

Vaerana nodded. “For nearly a tenday now, the cult’s been shipping wagon-loads of shark out of Pros, but none of it ever shows up in Elversult.”

“Where could it be going?” Ruha asked.

Vaerana shrugged. “With all that’s going on, I didn’t think it was worth the trouble of tracking down. Maybe I was wrong.”

“That’d be a good idea,” Fowler said. “Cypress might not be as gone as we thought.”

Tombor the Jolly came stomping through the trees. “Vaerana, the Shou want their mandarin. Archers are beginning to gather along the walls.”

“Let them!” Vaerana turned to go back to the road. “We’re going to have a battle soon enough.”

Ruha grabbed the Lady Constable by the arm. “But the Shou do not have Yanseldara’s staff!”

“They’re still my best hope of stopping the cult—or Cypress—and saving Yanseldara.”

“I may know of a better way,” Ruha said, thinking of Lady Feng’s abandoned familiar. “Give me another day, and I will find Tang’s mother—and Yanseldara’s staff.”

Vaerana shook her head. “I don’t know if Yanseldara has another day—and even if she does, Elversult may not. The Cult of the Dragon is growing more powerful by the hour.”

“How long’ll it take you to storm the palace?” Fowler asked. “And even if it’s less than a day, can you be sure Tang will tell you what you want to know—or that it’ll do you much good?”

Vaerana looked to Tombor. “What do you think?”

The cleric’s gaze darted from Fowler to Ruha to Vaerana. Finally, he smiled and shrugged amiably. “It’s all the same to me. I just need to know what you’re doing.”

Vaerana bit her lip, then finally said, “Tell Hsieh that he’s free to go.” After Tombor left, the Lady Constable gently took Ruha’s arm and, in a tone that was almost pleading, said, “Witch, you can’t foul this up.”

“I shall not.” Ruha glanced toward the road to make certain that she was still shielded from the view of any Shou, then whispered the incantation of the same sun spell she had used to vanish the day before. A shimmering wave of heat rolled down her body, leaving both her clothes and her flesh as transparent as air. “Just give me until tomorrow at dawn.”

With that, the invisible witch returned to the road, where Tombor was just giving the order to release Hsieh and the caravan drivers. She went to the nearest wagon and raised the edge of its tarp just far enough to slip inside, and nearly gagged on the cloying odor that rose from the cargo box: fresh ylang blossoms.