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Authors: Troy Denning

BOOK: The Veiled Dragon
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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 ofYanseldara’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 Con stable’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 halfore 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 halfore. “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 staffi” “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. Nine The servants had brought a small, triangular table of polished mahogany into the Hall of Amity and placed three teak thrones around it. Prince Tang and his wife sat close together on one side, staring at their reflections in the burnished surface, and Minister Hsieh _____sat alone at the opposite point. The shape of the table represented the trio’s nominal equality as members of the Imperial Household of Shou Lung, the seating arrangement reflected their actual status in the Emperor’s eyes, and the absence of any guards except the minister’s was a concession to his office: only the Emperor himself could bring personal guards into the presence of

a mandarin. “Why does table have only three sides?” Hsieh demanded. “Where is Lady Feng?” The knot in Tang’s stomach tightened even further, but he forced himself to slacken his face muscles and meet the mandarin’s eyes. “Lady Feng is not here.” The mandarin accepted the prince’s nonanswer with stern inexpressiveness. “Is most worthy concubine available? I travel many thousands ofli to speak to her.” The prince hazarded a glance at his wife, whose face remained as unreadable as the mandarin’s. They had not expected this. Though Hsieh and Lady Feng were cousins, they disliked each other vehemently and had taken pains

to avoid each other for years. It was even whispered that, after some incident involving Lady Feng*s familiar, it had been the mandarin who had arranged the exile of the Third Virtuous Concubine. At last, Wei Dao asked, “You have nothing to say to Honored Husband?” Hsieh regarded the prince and princess in thoughtful silence, until a smirk of amusement flickered briefly across his lips. “No, to surprise of everyone in Hall of Supreme Harmony, profits of Ginger Palace are most satisfying. Even Emperor notice.” Tang’s stomach started to writhe and chum. The good news would only make it more difficult to admit that he had allowed someone to kidnap the Third Virtuous Con cubine. “Do not look so troubled, Prince. We will talk after I see Lady Feng.” Hsieh’s uncovered eye narrowed in mild rebuke. “I am most anxious to hear why Ministry of Spices does not know about Ginger Palace’s poison trade.” Tang rose and accepted the mandarin’s admonishment with a polite bow. “I am most anxious to make report on anything you wish.” He fixed his eyes on the silver trimmed hem of the mandarin’s maitung, then took a deep breath and forced himself to speak again. “But first, I must relate regrettable truth about Lady Feng.” Even a seasoned bureaucrat like Minister Hsieh could not prevent the blood from draining from his face, thereby betraying his shock. “Something has happened?” Wei Dao was on her feet and speaking before Tang could continue. “When Prince Tang says Lady Feng is not here, he means not in Ginger Palace.” Hsieh’s jaw fell, and when his brow furrowed this time, the rebuke was not a gentle one. “Then where is Third Virtuous Concubine?” Again, Wei Dao answered for her husband. “She tends to sick friend in Elversult.” The mandarin scowled and, apparently resigning himself to having all his questions answered by the princess, turned directly to Wei Dao. “It is most indecorous to have Emperor’s consort wandering about outside her palace, especially in land of barbarians.” Though his face showed no sign of emotion, there was a dubious edge in his voice. “Why not bring sick friend to Ginger Palace?” “Friend is too sick to move.” Hsieh’s eyes narrowed; then he whirled back to Prince Tang. “Who is this friend?” “Very important—” Hsieh raised his hand to silence the princess. “I ask

honorable husband.” Tang glanced at his wife, who wisely made no attempt to communicate what she had intended to say. Though the mandarin’s gaze was riveted on the prince, his adju tant was watching Wei Dao from the comers of his eyes. Tang could not bring himself to answer. He was too blinded by fear to see the escape toward which Wei Dao had been driving. Lying to a mandarin was both a crime as terrible as treason and an indelible stain on the honor of his ancestors, yet now that his wife had shown him the way, he wanted nothing more than to avoid admitting his

ignoble failure. “Who is Lady Feng‘8 friend?” Hsieh demanded. Tang realized that his wife could have intended to give only one answer. “Lady Feng visits Moonstorm House in Elversult.” The prince felt as though he would retch; his stomach was turning somersaults and his jaws were aching. “Queen of city is very ill, and her priests ask for help of Third Virtuous Concubine.” Hsieh’s face did not soften. “Then why does constable woman harass Shou caravan? Making hostage of Emperor’s servant is poor way to show appreciation.” As badly as he wanted to, the prince did not look toward Wei Dao. Certainly, she had already thought of an answer to this simple question, but the mere hint of coaching from her would be enough to condemn both Tang and his wife to slow and dishonorable deaths. “Barbarians have strange customs.” Tang knew that his response was a feeble one, but he needed time to think of something better. “Vaerana Hawklyn does not trust afterworld magic and accuses us of causing her queen’s illness.” “Have we?” Tang tried to swallow and found that he could not. “Why do you think that, Minister?” The minister splayed his fingers, then began to tick off the names of poisonous plants that had been hidden in the Ginger Lady’s cargo. “Oleander

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