The Veiled Dragon (29 page)

than he feared thinking of himself as a bumbling fool for the rest of his life. By the time Cypress rounded the island, Tang could see little more than the dragon’s dull scales growing larger and darker as they neared the tunnel mouth. He reached the triple fork where he had stopped before and glanced up each branch. Two of the passages vanished into inky blackness, but one, the smallest, curved back toward the lake. There was a pale yellow glow at the far end, suggesting it actually connected with the vast treasure chamber. “Cypress, stop!” Lady Feng’s voice was so muffled Tang could barely hear it. “If you love Yanseldara, you spare boy’s life.” The dragon pivoted to look down at the island, allowing Tang a clear view of his mother. Lady Feng had grabbed the lip of the open oil cask and tipped it forward. The contents were dangerously close to spilling. “Pour it out, Wise Mother!” Tang yelled. “Life and death are same; I fear only dishonor!” The Third Virtuous Concubine frowned in the direction of Tang’s voice. “Then you are fool, Impertinent Son. You know nothing of life and death. If you do not understand that, you understand nothing at all!” “What?” Tang gasped. If there was one thing his mother believed, it was that life and death were the same. Lady Feng tipped the cask forward until the contents began to trickle down the side. Tombor the Jolly stooped over to reach for the other side of the cask, then found himself staring at a scorpion knife the Third Virtuous Concubine had produced from her sleeve pocket. The cleric withdrew his hand, and Lady Feng fixed her gaze on Cypress. “Do you wish to have Yanseldara?” She tipped the cask forward even farther, and the trickle of oil became a steady stream. “Or not?” “Very well. I am in a generous mood.” Cypress waved Tombor away from the cask, then stepped away from Tang’s passage. “I absolve the prince of his transgressions.” Tang did not believe the dragon for a moment, and knew that his mother would not either. Like any tyrant, Cypress could not forgive a rebellion against his authority. Once Lady Feng cast her spell, he would take his vengeance. So why was the Third Virtuous Concubine pretending to believe him? And why had she called the prince ignorant for quoting her? She had tipped the cask. The Third Virtuous Concubine was trying to tell him something about the oil. When Cypress turned his attention back to Lady Feng’s preparations. Tang began to collect the largest stones he could find, piling them inside the small passage that curved back toward the lake. As soon as the prince judged he had enough to suit his purpose, he removed his clothes. He laid his battle tunic on the far side of the tunnel, arranging it over a boulder so that it would look as if he were crouching on the floor, with his back to the treasure chamber. Lady Feng closed her mahogany coffer, and Tang knew she was getting ready to cast the spell. He laid down on his belly and crawled backward into the smallest passage, dragging his undertunic, trousers, and sword belt after him. The tunnel was so low that he could feel his back touching the ceiling. The prince began to stack the stones he gathered, scraping his elbows raw as he struggled to move in the cramped confines. The little bit of dim light vanished entirely, and he had to work in the dark, trying to feel the shapes of the rocks so he could fit them into the available spaces as tightly as possible. His wall had nearly reached the ceiling when Tang heard his mother’s muffled voice mumbling a command Though he could not understand her words, he suspected she was calling for Yanseldara’s staff. In his mind’s eye, the prince saw her accept the pole from Tombor—would the traitor’s hands be trembling at the magnitude of his

crime?—and dip the butt into the ylang potion. As though on cue, the Third Virtuous Concubine’s voice began muttering the indiscernible syllables of her spell. Tang fed his undertunic through the narrow gap at the top of his little wall, stopping when he judged the tail would be touching the floor. He worked carefully, for he had plenty of time. It would take a few moments for the potion to work its magic, and, even then. Cypress would be in no hurry. The dragon would want to rejoice in his triumph and be certain the enchantment had worked before betraying his word. Holding his undertunic against the ceiling with one hand and struggling to move stones with the other. Tang laid the last row of his wall. He folded the top of his shirt over his side of the barrier, using the extra rocks to anchor it in place. That done, he tore his trousers into strips and used them to plug the small gaps around the edges. The barricade would not stop the dragon’s breath entirely, but it would absorb the brunt of the attack and, with a little luck, send the acid cloud boiling down tunnels that offered less resistance. Tang located his sword belt and crawled backward down the tiny passage. He felt the stone around him shudder as Cypress rumbled in astonishment, and the prince knew his mother had completed her spell. What had she been trying to tell him about the oil? Tang could think of only one thing: somehow, Tombor had pressed the wrong blossoms. The prince felt the wall disappear beside his left foot and realized he had reached another fork. The side passage was not large enough for him to crawl into, but he was able to cram his legs in far enough to turn around and slither down the tunnel headfirst. The glow from the treasure chamber ahead had changed from bright yellow to a brilliant ruby red, and he could hear Cypress speaking in his deep dragon voice. “Why is her spirit so—so pained? The spell couldn’t have worked!” “I do not promise love feels good,” Lady Feng countered. “You share what Yanseldara’s spirit feels, and she shares what you feel. If she suffers, that is your fault, not mine.” The ingot island appeared in the mouth of the passage, and Tang stopped crawling. Cypress sat on the beach of coins, bending forward over Lady Feng and Tombor, who were standing near the summit of the isle. The dragon was holding Yanseldara’s staff in the palm of his withered hand, his bony snout almost touching the fiery topaz set in the pommel. “Then I have her?” Cypress closed the staff inside his claw. “Yanseldara is entirely mine?” Lady Feng nodded. “Until potion wears off, yes. After that, what happens is between your spirit and hers.” “Until it wears off?” Cypress’s roar was so loud that several pieces of jewelry fell into the lake. His empty claw flashed down and plucked up Lady Feng. “You told me the spell would last forever!” “Your spy does not bring correct oil.” Lady Pong’s voice betrayed no hint of fear, and she stared into Cypress’s eye voids without wavering. “He brings oil made from blossoms picked at night. They are not as potent as blossoms picked in morning.” “Ruha!” Tombor gasped. “That hag!” Cypress’s muzzle swung toward his spy, whose eye? suddenly grew as round as his face. The cleric began to stumble down the slope away from the dragon, and Tang felt like a new man. “The Harper witch s-s-said they were the blossoms Hsieh b-brought,” Tombor stammered. “She tricked me!” “How unfortunate.” Tombor clasped his hands in supplication and craned his neck to look up at the dragon. “Please, 1-let me go back! I’ll k-kill the Harper! I can get the b-blossoms you need!” “If that is true, why did you not bring them in the first place?” A white glimmer flashed deep within Cypress’fr

empty eye sockets; then he said, “Perhaps you knew you had the wrong oil, hmmnim? Perhaps you were hungry

for my gold?” Tombor dropped to his knees and tugged at the silver chain around his neck, pulling a gray velvet mask from inside his cloak. He pressed the disguise over his eyes, then began, “Unseen Mask, Great Lord of Shadows and Master of Deceit, hear the prayer of your most devoted

servant— “Why do you pray to the King of Betrayal?” Cypress lowered his claw and, with a single black talon, flicked the gray mask away from Tombor’s face. “Do you think he will give you your reward?” Tombor threw his arms over his face and tried to turn away, but the dragon was already inside his mind. A terrified howl echoed off the cavern walls; then the plump traitor began to pack gold ingots inside his clothes, his stiff and jerky arms obviously moving against his will. Once his robe was loaded, he filled his arms and waddled down to the lake’s edge, then threw himself into the clear waters. He sank like a stone. The cleric held his breath for a long time, and Tang could see him still clutching his armload of gold ingots. At last, a long stream of bubbles streamed from his nostrils; then he opened his mouth and filled his lungs with water. Cypress turned away from the traitor and raised Lady Feng to his face. “Now, what shall I do about you? You knew when you opened the cask that it was the wrong oil.” “It makes no difference—if you have confidence in your own spirit,” Lady Feng said. “After potion wears off, you can subdue Yanseldara’s spirit and make her your slave.” It astonished Tang to hear Lady Feng toying so boldly with the dragon. She knew Cypress loved Yanseldara only because no one else had ever bested him in battle. Considering that the first combat had cost him his life, it seemed unlikely he would welcome another fight for an even greater prize. Wisps of black fume curled from Cypress’s nostrils, but when he spoke, he sounded more apprehensive than angry. “I do not want to make a slave of Yanseldara.” He lowered the Third Virtuous Concubine to the ingot heap and allowed her to step off his hand. “I want her to love me, as I love her.” “You want to absorb her,” Lady Feng scoffed. “She is stronger than you, and you want to make her part of yourself.” “Yes, to make her mine. Is that not what love is?” The dragon glanced toward the cavern where Tang had first taken refuge. “I’m certain your son would agree—though I’m afraid I can’t allow him that chance.” “You leave son alone!” Lady Feng warned. “If you harm him—” Cypress whirled on the Third Virtuous Concubine so fiercely that Tang feared he would murder her. “I will kill him, and you will do nothing!” the dragon roared. “I have allowed you both to grow defiant, and now I must teach you to obey.” Lady Feng dropped to her knees, then surprised Tang by kowtowing to the dragon—dishonoring both herself and the emperor. “Please. He is only son. Punish me—” “I need you.” Cypress drew himself to his full height, then turned Yanseldara’s staff upside down and wedged the butt into a ceiling fissure. The dragon waded into the lake. Tang retreated deep into his worm hole, beseeching his ancestors to make his foe see only the cowardly prince he had been before entering the swamp. As Cypress neared the cavern wall, his great bulk blocked the red light from the treasure chamber, plunging the prince into darkness so thick he could not see the stone beneath his nose. The cavern shuddered around his body, and the dragon’s voice rumbled through the very rock. “

not changed after all, have you, Prince?” There was a muffled whisper as the dragon inflated

his chest, then a sharp hiss as he emptied it into the next tunnel. The exhalation seemed to continue forever, and soon a chorus of soft, eerie trills arose from the treasure chamber as the breath whistled through the network of passages and found its way back toward the lake. From deep within Tang’s worm hole came a muffled clatter of stones, followed by the sputter and sizzle of dissolving limestone. The prince smelled the caustic stench of acid and expected to feel a stinging wind tear over his body, but the wall had not collapsed entirely. He felt only the light nettling of a faint mist. He crawled forward as far as he dared, and at last the eerie whistle died away. Cypress stepped away from the cavern wall and turned toward the ingot island. Lady Feng threw herself into the water, wailing in motherly grief. The show was so convincing that, had Tang not been raised in the palace of the Third Virtuous Concubine, he would have believed her anguish to be genuine. Cypress waded across the lake in two strides and plucked Lady Feng from the water. “Be quiet! That coward is not worth tears. He was groveling in the corner like a frightened child.” The report only drew louder wails from the Third Virtuous Concubine. The dragon placed her atop the ingot heap, then circled to the far side of the island. “I will fetch the proper oil. When I return, have your ingredients ready to cast another spell—the permanent one.” Lady Feng raised her head. “Never! I let Yanseldara make slave of you!” Cypress’s claw swept down so swiftly that Tang did not see it move. It simply appeared beside Lady Feng’s body, trembling with the dragon’s fury, and the prince did not even realize it had touched her until he saw the blood seeping through her shredded cheosong. “We shall see, shall we?” The dragon dove into the lake and vanished from sight. Both Tang and his mother remained motionless

and did not speak for several minutes. When it became apparent that Cypress would not return, Lady Feng turned toward the prince’s hiding place. “Are you there, Tang? I know you are fool, but honored ancestors claim you are no coward.” Tang pushed his head out of his worm hole. “I am here I see you kowtow to Cypress!” Lady Feng shrugged. “I must convince him of grief Besides, shame is removed after you destroy him.” She craned her neck to look at the staff lodged in the ceiling, thirty feet above her head. “Now, Courageous Prince, please to honor humble mother by climbing up to retrieve spirit gem.”
Ť Ruha urged her horse forward, once again nudging it between the mounts of Minister Hsieh and the Lady Constable. Vaerana had been on her best behavior since departing the Ginger Palace, but with the wooded hills of Elversult rising ahead and the planning session entering a crucial phase, the witch thought it wise to put herself between the two stubborn personalities. “Very well. We hide Lady Yanseldara and ylang o beneath city prison while we search for lair,” Hsieh said “But who stays to guard them?” “It’s the Maces’ barracks,” Vaerana answered simply. “Humble Minister begs to disagree.” Hsieh’s tone was anything but humble. “Maces know nearby lands. Perhaps they search for lair while Shou guard oil.” Vaerana leaned in front of Ruha, her face already turning the color of blood. “If you think I’m going to leave Elversult in the hands of a bunch of slanty—” Ruha pushed the Lady Constable back toward her own horse. “The minister’s suggestion has merit, Vaerana Perhaps it would be best to leave a mixed garrison at the barracks, and lend him some guides to help his men search for the lair.” Vaerana clamped her mouth shut and took several deep breaths, then nodded curtly. “We can do that.” Hsieh looked straight ahead. “As can we—for mutual benefit of all.” Ruha’s sigh of relief was cut short by a chorus of alarmed cries. She turned in her saddle and looked down the long column to see riders of both races staring over their shoulders. They were tugging at armor buckles and tightening chin straps and generally readying themselves for battle. For a moment, the witch could not imagine what was troubling them, but then she saw it: a pair of distant black wings hanging low in the afternoon sky, steadily flapping and growing larger with every stroke. “Most wretched dragon!” “Elversult’s just over the hill,” Vaerana said. “We’ll skirt the edge and make a run for Moonstonn House!” “We secure ylang oil first—then fetch Yanseldara!” “This is my city. I know what’s—” “You are both wrong.” Ruha kept her eyes fixed on Cypress, who had already covered so much distance she could make out the lines of his broken horns. “We cannot hope to outrun the dragon, so we must outwit him.” Vaerana and Hsieh both studied the witch for a moment, then nodded their agreement. “What do you have in mind, Witch?” “We should feign a stand in the forest. When the dragon attacks, we will split. Vaerana will take the Maces toward Moonstonn House. Minister Hsieh and the Shou will stay behind to act as a rear guard.” Hsieh locked gazes with Vaerana, then nodded. He turned to Yu Po, who had two waterskins filled with ylang oil hanging from his saddle. Although the new blossoms had yielded more, the minister had assured them this was more than sufficient to save Yanseldara. The rest had been burned at the Ginger Palace. Hsieh took the first skin off his adjutant’s saddle to pass it to Vaerana. “That is not what I meant,” Ruha said. Cypress was so