The Veiled Dragon

Ten

The dungeon beneath the Ginger Palace was unlike any of those dank, deep, dark places from which the Harpers had taught Ruha to escape. Instead of mildew and offal, it smelled of cedar and lamp oil, and the sound that filled its corridors was not the wail of tortured prisoners, but the silken swishing of Shou robes. The doors hung on brass hinges rather than leather straps, and they were made of red-lacquered mahogany instead of rusty iron—a construction that would make them no less sturdy once they were barred shut. The stone walls were smooth-plastered, washed with white lime, and a foot thick; the ceiling, nearly fifteen feet above, was formed by the exposed underside of the floor planks above, and therein lay the only weakness Ruha could find.

The long procession of guards reached an intersection and, when Wei Dao attempted to turn right, came to a sudden halt. The leader of the soldiers spoke to the princess in Shou. She replied sharply and pointed at Ruha. The witch had again been gagged with her own veil, her arms were pinned behind her by two separate men, and she was surrounded by a ring of warriors holding naked sword blades within inches of her throat.

Though the lasal haze had already faded from her mind, Ruha’s escort had been too attentive to allow her to cast any spells, so she could not understand the conversation. Nevertheless, she had explored the dungeon during her initial search for Yanseldara’s staff and could imagine what they were discussing. Down the left corridor lay the palace’s tidy prison cells; down the right lay the gruesome chambers of torture and death, where there were certainly enough shackles, fetters, and jaw clamps to keep even a wu-jen from escaping.

Wei Dao prevailed over the commander and led the column to the right. Ruha brought a two-syllable sun spell to mind and, as the clumsy ensemble around her struggled to turn the corner, pretended to stumble. The ring of swordsmen jerked their blades back—Prince Tang had been most emphatic in saying he expected the prisoner alive when he returned—and that was all the room the witch needed.

Slipping her gag as she had once before, Ruha picked her feet off the brick floor and kicked them both backward. Only one of her heels landed on target, smashing the knee of one of the guards holding her arms. The other missed its mark and slipped between the fellow’s legs. As she pitched forward, the witch brought her foot up, catching the soldier squarely in the groin. Both men screamed and released her arms, then landed beside her on the floor.

At once, Ruha rolled onto her side, looked toward one of the oil lamps hanging on the wall, then closed her eyes, covered her ears, and uttered her spell. There was an ear-splitting boom and a flash of light so brilliant it pained the witch’s eyes even through their closed lids.

The next thing Ruha knew, she was lying beneath a heap of writhing Shou guards. If they were screaming, the witch could not hear them; the ringing in her own ears was so loud she could not have heard a thunderclap breaking over her head. Half expecting to feel a long steel blade driving between her ribs, she opened her eyes and crawled from beneath the heap of soldiers.

The entire line of guards lay on the white bricks, their open mouths voicing screams the witch could not hear. Some of the men held their ears and some covered their eyes, but they all remained too stunned to do more than writhe in pain. The oil lamp she had used for her spell was gone, leaving a huge sooty smudge above the sconce where it had hung, but neither the wall nor the ceiling had suffered any material damage from the detonation.

Ruha searched for Wei Dao’s form at the head of the column, weighing the wisdom of wading through the tangle of bodies to retrieve her late husband’s jambiya from the princess. Unfortunately, the witch could not be sure how soon her captors would begin recovering from their shock. The effects would normally last long enough for her to run an eighth league, but she had no way to tell how long she herself had been incapacitated. Besides, there were a dozen more guards at the entrance to the dungeon, and it would not be long before they arrived to investigate the detonation.

Ruha pulled a dagger from a soldier’s belt, then stepped over him and three other quivering men and started down the left-hand corridor. As she moved, the witch kept a careful watch on the floor, stopping to pry out any pebbles lodged between bricks. It took only a few moments to fill her hand, for even the tidy Shou could not keep from tracking tiny stones inside, and it hardly seemed worth the effort to scrape them from the seams of a dungeon floor.

The witch glanced back down the corridor. Although Wei Dao had not entirely recovered from her shock, she had risen and was picking her way down the corridor. The princess’s eyes had the blank, inert stare of sightlessness, and she was moving her open hands in front of her body in an ever changing pattern of circular motions. Ruha found her pursuer’s determination more than a little alarming; only a very good fighter would feel confident enough to carry the battle to a foe while both blind and deaf.

Ruha shook her pebbles and uttered the incantation of a sand spell. The stones began to oscillate in her palm, scrubbing off two layers of skin before she could hurl them at the ceiling. They struck in a circle as broad as her shoulders and continued to vibrate, much too fast for the eye to follow. She heard a faint drone above the ringing in her ears, and a steady shower of powdered wood rained down on her shoulders. The witch hiked up the hem of her aba, then pressed her hands and feet against opposite walls and began to chimney up the walls of the corridor.

Ruha had climbed about ten feet when Wei Dao passed beneath her, still circling her hands before her body and staring vacantly ahead. The drone of the sand spell must have been loud enough for the princess to hear, for she stopped directly beneath the scouring pebbles and cocked her head. She turned her palm up to catch some of the powdered wood raining down her, then seemed to guess what was happening and started after the witch.

Ruha climbed to the ceiling and waited beside her circle of buzzing pebbles. The stones had dug a deep labyrinth of wormy grooves into the wood, and it would not be much longer before they scoured clear through. Already, islands of plank were trembling as though they would fall at any moment, but the witch did not dare reach up to pull them loose. The whirling pebbles would take her fingers off.

A short distance below, Wei Dao had nearly climbed within arm’s reach. She carried Ruha’s jambiya clenched between her teeth, and her blinking, squinting eyes were fixed vaguely on the hem of the witch’s aba. Down the corridor, the guards were beginning to rise and rub their heads. Deciding to attack before they gathered their wits, Ruha pulled a foot away from the wall and thrust it at the princess’s head.

Wei Dao continued to squint until the approaching kick had nearly reached her face … then she calmly slipped the blow by looking away and allowing the witch’s heel to glance off her brow. Instantly, the princess’s hand snapped back, smashing the hard bone of her wrist into the tendons of Ruha’s ankle. A sharp, tingling pain shot up the witch’s shin, and her leg went numb below the knee.

As Ruha tried to pull her foot back, Wei Dao trapped the witch’s ankle in the crook of her elbow, then locked it in place by clasping her hand against the back of her neck. She pulled her legs away from the walls and dropped, already raising her free hand toward the jambiya between her teeth.

The witch pushed against the walls with all her might, barely keeping herself from falling to the floor when Wei Dao’s weight hit the end of her dangling leg. From behind Ruha, barely audible over the ebbing roar inside her head, came the muted clamor of the guards gathering themselves up to help the princess.

Wei Dao took the jambiya from between her teeth.

Ruha swung her second leg away from the wall and smashed her heel into the back of her foe’s skull. Wei Dao’s head snapped forward; then the knife slipped from her hand and her body went limp. The princess dropped a man’s height to the floor, landing in the semi-rigid heap of someone caught halfway between consciousness and unconsciousness. A pair of guards appeared beside her immediately.

Ruha looked up and saw light shining through the grooved planks above her head. The pebbles were gone, having eaten all the way through the wood. The witch did not wait to see if the soldiers below would attack her or tend to their mistress. She braced her good foot against the wall—the leg that Wei Dao had struck was too numb to trust—then made a fist and punched it through the boards above her head. The wood fell apart easily, and she had no trouble widening the hole until she came to a solid edge. The witch grabbed hold and glanced down to see several guards climbing after her.

Although Ruha did not know any wood magic, she sprinkled a handful of decaying wood on their heads and muttered a few mystic-sounding syllables. That was enough to make them drop back into the corridor and scurry for cover. Having bought herself more time, the witch pushed her second hand through the hole—then gasped as her wrists were seized from above by a pair of small, callused hands. Without bothering to tear away what remained of the weakened planks, her unseen captor pulled her up through the floor.

Ruha found herself standing before a blank-faced soldier dressed in Minister Hsieh’s yellow, silk-jacketed armor. She was in a fair-sized room furnished only with kneeling mats, several low tables, and bookshelves, surrounded by a dozen more of the mandarin’s guards, all with long, square-tipped swords in their hands. Along with Yu Po, Hsieh himself stood a half-dozen paces behind his guards.

“When strange events occur, it seems you are always near.” Although Hsieh did not speak loudly, the ringing in Ruha’s ears had faded to the point where, with a little effort, she could understand his words. The mandarin pointed overhead, where the witch’s pebbles were scouring a fresh set of grooves into the coffered ceiling. “Please to stop magic before it ruins Princess Wei Dao’s apartment.”

The man who had pulled Ruha out of the floor released her hands and stepped back, but the witch did not even consider casting a spell at the mandarin or any of his men. Although Tang had ordered his guards not to harm her, Hsieh’s soldiers had received no such instructions and would undoubtedly strike her down at the first sign of danger to their master. Ruha gestured at the ceiling and spoke a single sibilant syllable. The pebbles fell out of the air, dropping through the hole to clatter off the dungeon’s brick floor.

“So much better.” Hsieh kneeled at one of the room’s low tables and waved Ruha to the other side. “Please.”

Ruha allowed herself to be escorted to the table, then sat cross-legged on one of the reed mats. Although she was not overly fond of the chairs that Heartland hosts always thrust at their visitors, she found the Shou habit of kneeling even less comfortable.

Hsieh waited for her to arrange her aba and veil, and then said, “Please to explain your return to Ginger Palace. I am under impression that Vaerana Hawklyn takes me hostage to get you out.”

“She came too soon.” As the witch spoke, she was frantically trying to calculate how much she should tell Hsieh about events in Elversult. Though he lacked the same reasons as Prince Tang and Wei Dao to conceal Lady Feng’s abduction, he might easily conclude that the best way to recover her was to let Cypress have what he wanted. “I had not concluded my business.”

Hsieh nodded thoughtfully. “And this business—whatever it is—do you finish it now?”

Ruha shook her head. “No, I was … interrupted.”

Hsieh allowed himself a tiny smile, but made no remark about the interruption involving a trip to the dungeon. “Perhaps this business is something I can help you conclude.”

Ruha lifted her brow. “Do you not wish to know what I am doing?”

“You are spying,” Hsieh replied simply. “I have need of spy.”

After a moment’s consideration, Ruha asked, “And who am I to spy upon?”

“I come to speak to Lady Feng, but she is not here.” He leaned forward and spoke so quietly that Ruha could barely make out the words. “I understand she is in Elversult. Perhaps she dishonors Peerless Emperor of Civilized World.”

Ruha frowned, confused by the mandarin’s implication and uncertain what he wanted from her. “What do you think she has done to dishonor your emperor?”

The mandarin flushed and looked at the tabletop. “Perhaps she takes lover.”

“A lover?” Ruha scoffed.

Hsieh frowned and glanced toward his guards. “For spy, you are most imprudent.”

“She is more than spy!” accused Wei Dao’s voice.

The witch turned to see the princess pushing her head out of the hole in the floor. Her hair was disheveled and there was a red mark on her brow where Ruha’s heel had glanced off, but otherwise she showed little sign of their battle.

Wei Dao allowed two of Hsieh’s men to help her into the room, then pulled Ruha’s jambiya from her sash and pointed the curved blade at the witch. “Lady Ruha is insidious assassin!”

The accusation caused several of the guards to reach for the witch, but Hsieh raised a finger and waved them off. “If Lady Ruha wishes me dead, she has many chances better than this to attack.”

Ruha inclined her head to the minister. “I am grateful—”

Hsieh warned her off with a scowl and quick shake of his head. “Must wait for princess. To Shou, form is all.” The mandarin looked at Wei Dao, then gestured at one of the mats beside their table. “Please.”

The princess slipped the jambiya into her sash, then took several moments to straighten her hair and collect herself. For a time, Ruha thought she might be stalling until her own guards entered the room, but no one climbed into the room after her, nor did Hsieh’s men give any indication that they expected—or would welcome—any of the princess’s soldiers to join them. At last, Wei Dao came to the table and bowed to Hsieh, then calmly kneeled on a mat beside Ruha as though she had not just accused the witch of being a murderess.

“Esteemed Mandarin, please to forgive Prince and me.” By the continuing blare of Wei Dao’s voice, it was clear that her ears were suffering from the detonation even more than Ruha’s. “We do not tell you all.”

“Then do so now—more quietly,” Hsieh urged.

Wei Dao kept her eyes lowered. “Lady Feng does not visit sick friend in Elversult.”

Hsieh barely kept from smirking. “Truly?”

“Truly. Prince Tang learns of plan to kill Third Virtuous Concubine, and he sends her into hiding.” Wei Dao raised her chin and glared at Ruha. “Treacherous witch is assassin.”

Ruha could not stomach the lie. “That is—”

Hsieh waved a cautioning finger at the witch. “You ignore form, Lady Ruha.” Though his voice was stern, his face remained as blank as ever. “Please to let Princess explain why someone—presumably Vaerana Hawklyn—wishes to kill Lady Feng.”

Wei Dao was ready with another lie. “To stop trade in poisons. Vaerana threatens many times to ‘take measures’ if we do not stop, but Honorable Husband does not let savages dictate business of Ginger Palace.”

“How wise.” Hsieh’s tone was as flat as his expression was blank.

Wei Dao continued, “After we must exchange witch for person of Esteemed Minister, we think she give up and leave—then we find her hiding in ylang blossoms.” The princess peered at Ruha from the corner of her eye. “She is most resolute killer.”

Hsieh nodded sagely. “Most.”

“We are taking her to Chamber of One Thousand Deaths when she makes lamp explode and escapes again,” Wei Dao continued. “Please to lend me sword. I promise Honorable Husband that I kill barbarian before he returns with Virtuous Mother.”

Yu Po immediately reached for his sword, but Minister Hsieh quickly raised a hand to restrain him. The adjutant’s jaw fell slack, as did those of several guards.

“Do you not wish to hear what Lady Ruha says?” Hsieh asked.

Yu Po and the guards glanced at each other as though the thought had never crossed their minds. “But Lady Ruha is barbarian!” Yu Po gasped. “Princess Dao is wife of son of Third Virtuous Concubine.”

Hsieh nodded as though he were in complete agreement with his adjutant, then bit his lips as though struggling with a difficult decision. “What you say is most true. It does not matter that Lady Ruha saves our lives when dragon attacks Ginger Lady.”

The mandarin allowed his gaze to linger on Wei Dao, who took several quiet breaths and tried not to look concerned as the color drained from her face.

“If Shou princess claims barbarian witch intends to kill Lady Feng, then we must believe her.” Hsieh continued to glare at the princess. “If she feels certain we understand her correctly—and if she is certain she says what she means.”

Wei Dao’s painted lips began to quiver, but she did not look away from Hsieh’s penetrating gaze. “I … I am certain.”

Yu Po placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, but cast a questioning look at Hsieh and stopped short of drawing it. The mandarin remained as motionless as a statue and continued to glare at Wei Dao. Ruha hardly dared to breathe. She did not understand all the nuances of the exchange, but it seemed clear enough that the minister was trying to save her life—whether because he wished to repay her or because he needed a spy, she did not know. It hardly mattered, and the witch sensed that even the slightest movement on her part might well bring the contest to an unfavorable end.

As frightened as Wei Dao appeared, it was Hsieh who looked away first. “It appears the princess is most confident of herself.”

Yu Po drew his sword. Before Ruha could summon the incantation of even a simple spell to mind, two guards grabbed her arms and pushed her forward, laying her head flat upon the table. The witch uttered a silent prayer, begging the forgiveness of Lander, her dead lover, for failing as a Harper, then took her last breath and prepared to die.

The blow did not fall. After a time, Ruha opened her eyes—she did not remember closing them—and craned her neck against the restraining hands of her guards. She saw Hsieh and the others standing over her beside the table. The mandarin had taken Yu Po’s wrist to restrain him from giving the sword to Wei Dao.

“The Emperor’s justice cannot be denied, but we are in land of savages,” said Hsieh. “We must allow Lady Ruha to speak, so her friend Vaerana Hawklyn may not protest that our execution is unjust.”

“Esteemed Mandarin, why do we care if Vaerana Hawklyn protests?” Wei Dao’s voice continued to be overloud. “She is barbarian!”

“Vaerana Hawklyn is barbarian with army. If she makes hostage of Shou Mandarin, does she hesitate to sack Ginger Palace?” Hsieh paused to let the others consider his point, then continued, “But if we follow form of barbarians and let prisoner speak, perhaps we appease Vaerana’s superiors. Perhaps we avoid battle.”

The mandarin released his adjutant’s wrist. Yu Po lowered his sword, but did not return the blade to its scabbard. He and the other Shou no longer seemed quite so confused by Hsieh’s perverse defense of the witch’s life. Ruha dared to hope their reaction meant the minister had finally prevailed in the strange battle of protocol between him and Wei Dao.

The princess frowned, but seemed unable to effectively oppose the suggestion. “Ask, but her answer is lie.”

Hsieh smiled grimly. “Yes, if you say it is.” He leaned over Ruha. “Lady Ruha, does Princess tell truth?”

“No.” The witch’s answer reverberated through the tabletop and returned to her ear sounding loud and deep. “Lady Feng has been abducted.”

Ruha’s assertion elicited no cries of outrage or gasps of surprise. The Shou remained as silent as stones, and by their silence the witch knew that none of them, even Hsieh, gave any credence to her claims.

Wei Dao reached for Yu Po’s sword.

“I can prove what I say!” Ruha exclaimed.

It was Hsieh who scorned the witch’s claim. “How can you prove what is not possible?”

The mandarin’s tone was severe and impatient, as though he had expected her to say something else. Cold fingers of panic began to creep through the witch’s belly. Yu Po was awaiting permission to yield his sword, and Ruha could not imagine what Hsieh wished to hear. Wei Dao had already declared anything the witch said to be a lie, and the Shou seemed unwilling, perhaps even unable, to believe otherwise. The truth, even if it could be proved, did not matter—and Ruha suddenly realized what the minister wanted her to say.

“Princess Wei Dao is protecting her mother-in-law,” the witch said. “Lady Feng has taken a lover.”

Hsieh gasped much too loudly, prompting Yu Po to step back and sheath his sword.

“Lady Ruha, you are certain?” Hsieh did not even bother to feign his shock well. “Princess Dao is … mistaken?”

“Is that not a good reason for her to have me silenced?”

“Indeed, but it does not work. I suspect this myself.” Hsieh whirled on Wei Dao and fixed her with a stony glare. “Do I not warn you about lying to me?”

“I am Shou Princess.” Though her chin was trembling, Wei Dao held it high. “I do not lie, Esteemed Mandarin.”

“No?” Hsieh glanced at the guards pinning Ruha to the table, who promptly released the witch and stepped back. “Lady Ruha, please to show proof of Lady Feng’s imprudence.”

Ruha straightened her aba and started to remind the mandarin that what she had offered to prove was not Lady Feng’s infidelity, but her abduction—then she thought twice about confusing the issue and held her tongue. To the Shou, the witch was beginning to realize, truth was a relative thing. As long as she had Hsieh’s support, any evidence she offered would no doubt be taken as proof of whatever the mandarin wished.

Ruha started to lead the way out of the room, then remembered her manners and bowed to Wei Dao, gesturing toward the door. “If the princess will show us to Lady Feng’s apartment?”

Wei Dao frowned in confusion, then turned to lead the way out of the room.

Halfway to the door, she suddenly stopped. Her forehead was slick with sweat and her face was sick with fear. “This is not right. I cannot show others into Lady Feng’s apartment.”

“Then I shall.” Behind her veil, Ruha allowed herself a small smile. “I know the way, as I’m sure you remember.”

As the witch moved to step past, she saw Wei Dao’s hand drop toward her sash.

In the next instant, two of Hsieh’s guards lay on the floor holding their bloody throats, and Wei Dao was leaping through the air, slashing at Ruha’s throat with her own jambiya. The witch twisted her body to the side and reached out to meet the assault at the wrist, but the princess’s reflexes were as quick as lightning. She circled the blade beneath Ruha’s blocking arm and reversed it, driving the tip toward her victim’s heart as though she had been fighting with jambiyas all her life. The witch saved herself only by falling to the floor and madly flailing her feet in a desperate attempt to trip her attacker.

There was no need. Moving with a deliberate grace that appeared almost languid, Hsieh slipped behind the princess. He clamped one hand over the wrist of Wei Dao’s weapon hand, then shot his other forearm around her throat and brought it up under her jawline so hard her feet came off the ground.

Wei Dao’s eyes bulged and her tongue appeared between her lips. She flung her head back in an attempt to smash her captor’s nose, but Hsieh simply tipped his face out of the way. The princess made a brief, rasping attempt to breathe, but the veins in her neck were being pinched shut by the mandarin’s arm, causing her head to run out of blood long before her lungs ran out of air. Her face turned a shocking shade of purple-gray, and the jambiya slipped from her hand. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets; then she stopped struggling and began to spasm.

Hsieh dropped her at a guard’s feet. “Greatly unexpected. I am most curious to see what we find in Lady Feng’s chamber.”

Ruha could not take her eyes off Wei Dao’s unconscious form. During all her training with the Harpers, she had never seen a woman move with such deadly speed and grace. Had she not seen the ease with which Hsieh disabled her, the witch would not have believed anyone—especially a one-eyed man of Hsieh’s age—could move more swiftly.

“Minister Hsieh, I thank you for my life,” Ruha said. “You are a man of many hidden talents.”

The mandarin smiled. “In Shou Lung, we long ago learn wisdom of being better warriors than those who guard us.” He turned to Yu Po and gestured at Wei Dao. “Bind princess well and take her to apartment. Inspect her chambers to see that she is … safe.”

Yu Po bowed, then began issuing orders in Shou. As Hsieh’s guards scurried into action, the mandarin selected a half-dozen men to accompany him, then led the way up an immense staircase to the second story, where he astonished the palace sentries by allowing Ruha to use her wind magic to open the door to the Third Virtuous Concubine’s apartment. The minister scowled at the macabre frescoes that decorated Lady Feng’s antechamber, then followed the witch through the dressing closet into the bedchamber.

Ruha went straight to the corner and pulled Lady Feng’s writing desk from the wall. When she did not hear any scratching or whining on the other side of the secret door, she began to fear that Wei Dao had done something with Chalk Ears. The witch took a deep breath and, wondering how Hsieh would react if it turned out she could prove neither Lady Feng’s indiscretion nor her abduction, pushed open the hidden panel.

The secret chamber looked as though a whirlwind had erupted inside. The worktable in the center of the room had been swept clean of its cauldrons and balances, which now sat upon the floor amid a knee-deep jumble of books and broken glass. Heaps of severed bat wings, blackened fingernails, and silk-wrapped spider eggs were scattered everywhere, often coated by stripes of rainbow-hued dusts and powders. One of the cabinets had even been pulled over and now lay broken into two splintered pieces.

Save for a sleeping cushion, sandbox, and two silver bowls containing untouched supplies of food and water, there was no sign of Chalk Ears. Although the jagged shards of glass had been broken out of the window through which Ruha had escaped, the casement itself remained open and not repaired.

“Is this what you bring me to see?” Hsieh asked.

“No. What I brought you to see is gone.”

Ruha could almost see what had happened. After she jumped through the window, Wei Dao, or some of her guards, had tried to capture Chalk Ears. The familiar had panicked, and the ensuing struggle had destroyed Lady Feng’s laboratory. In the end, the little creature had escaped through the broken window, and the princess had elected to leave it open in the hope that the beast would return.

The witch picked her way across the room. “I had hoped to show you Lady Feng’s familiar.” She picked up the red sleeping cushion. “But I fear Chalk Ears has fled.”

“Chalk Ears? Perhaps you mean Winter Blossom?”

Ruha held her hands about a foot apart. “It was a little creature that could have been a cross between a monkey and a raccoon. I found it here when I—” The witch stopped short of admitting what she had been doing in Lady Feng’s chambers. “It looked like it had not eaten for a week.”

“He,” Hsieh corrected. The mandarin waded into the room and kneeled beside the familiar’s lair. “Winter Blossom is male lemur—though I think Eye Biter is better name.”

Ruha caught herself staring at Hsieh’s silken eye patch and looked away. “Winter Blossom is more than a pet to Lady Feng. Had she departed the Ginger Palace willingly, I doubt she would have left him behind.”

Hsieh sighed heavily. “But familiar is not here.”

The mandarin waved his guards into the room, and Ruha’s mouth went dry. She glanced out the empty window pane, already summoning to mind the same wind spell she had used to escape Wei Dao, then swallowed her fear and told herself not to panic. The guards arrived and arrayed themselves around Hsieh, at the same time blocking the witch’s path through the window.

Ruha squatted beside Winter Blossom’s silver bowls and waved her hand over the contents. “The familiar escaped after Lady Feng’s departure, or these would not be full. Wei Dao hopes to lure him back.”

Hsieh met Ruha’s gaze. “I do not doubt what you say. If Lady Feng takes Winter Blossom, she takes his bed.” He picked up the lemur’s sleeping cushion, then tossed it to a guard. “So, where is Lady Feng, and why does she not take familiar?”

“I told you—she was abducted.”

“So you do, but I think you are lying. It is so much better if she takes lover.” Hsieh shook his head in disappointment, then gave Ruha a stern glance. “Perhaps you tell me what you are doing in Ginger Palace—and no lies. Today, I grow impatient with lies.”

When Ruha paused to consider how much she should say, the mandarin rose. “Please do not refuse.” He glanced at two guards, who took Ruha by the arms and jerked her to her feet. “Truth potions are most damaging to mind, and you cannot escape.”

“It was not my intention to try to escape—and let us both hope that does not become necessary.” Ruha fixed an icy glare on Hsieh and remained silent. When he finally waved his guards off, she began, “Not long ago, a staff of some sentimental value was stolen from the Lady Yanseldara …”

The witch told Hsieh of how someone was using the staff to steal Yanseldara’s spirit, and of Vaerana’s belief that Lady Feng was responsible, and of her own effort to recover the staff from the Ginger Palace, and, finally, of her subsequent discovery of the Third Virtuous Concubine’s abduction. The mandarin listened patiently and closely. He did not interrupt, even when she told him of Tang’s involvement in the Cult of the Dragon and how the prince had attempted to conceal his mother’s kidnapping.

When Ruha finished, the mandarin contemplated her account in silence for many moments, then raised his hand and held up three splayed fingers. “I have questions. Where is Prince Tang now?”

“He seems to have decided that the only way to redeem himself is to personally rescue his mother.” Ruha did not say in whose eyes the prince wished to redeem himself. The less Hsieh knew about the prince’s attraction to her, the better. “I believe he has taken a company of guards and gone to attempt that.”

Hsieh winced, but nodded and folded down one of his fingers. “Second question. Theft of spirit takes no more than two or three days. Why has Lady Feng not finished?”

“I am not certain. But I do know Prince Tang was awaiting the fresh ylang blossoms aboard the Ginger Lady.” When the mandarin furrowed his brow, Ruha hastened to add, “The kidnapper believes he is in love with Yanseldara. Perhaps they are for a love potion?”

Hsieh shook his head. “Then why does he steal spirit? Only reason to use love potion on spirit is to bind it to another spirit, for long journey through Ten Courts of Afterlife.”

A feeling of nausea crept over Ruha. “The thief is … he is not living. He is one of the undead.”

An expression of pity passed over Hsieh’s face, and he folded down his second finger. “Final question. Who is kidnapper?”

This was the question Ruha had been dreading. She had omitted any mention of Cypress’s identity, fearing that the mandarin would decide it was safer for Lady Feng to cooperate with the dragon than to help Vaerana save Yanseldara. Nevertheless, the witch had no choice except to hope she could persuade Hsieh to ally with her, for it was growing clearer all the time that she did not understand enough about Lady Feng’s magic to save Yanseldara.

“Who take Lady Feng?” Hsieh demanded.

Ruha swallowed, then said, “The same barbarian who tried to assassinate you.”

Hsieh frowned at her. “No one tries to kill me.”

Ruha nodded. “On the Ginger Lady. The dragon.”

“You are greatly mistaken.” Hsieh’s rebuke was both confident and gentle. “Dragon is after gold and jewels—”

“And you,” Ruha replied. “His name is Cypress, and he is the leader of the Cult of the Dragon. He fears you have come to replace Tang and stop the palace’s trade in poisons, and so he tried to kill you.”

“That is most impossible.” Hsieh shook his head stubbornly. “I send messenger with word of my visit only one day before dragon attack. Because I travel with only light bodyguard, I instruct Prince and Princess to tell no one of my journey—unless they tell Lady Feng?”

Ruha shook her head. “I overheard them say Lady Feng was abducted before your message arrived.”

“Then dragon cannot know I am coming. Who tell him?”

That was when Yu Po appeared at the door. “Esteemed Minister, I beg permission to report.”

Hsieh frowned and started to hold him off, but Ruha, who needed time to think, said, “Yu Po is not interrupting. Let him speak.”

Hsieh nodded to his adjutant, who quickly picked his way across the debris and bowed. “Princess Wei Dao is most comfortable in her apartment,” Yu Po reported. “As I was inspecting her chambers to be certain of her safety, I find this.”

The adjutant opened his hand, revealing the exotic Calimshan gold that Tombor had put into Ruha’s coffer to impress Wei Dao.

Hsieh studied the coin, then scowled at his adjutant. “Wei Dao is Princess, Yu Po. Do you expect to find no gold in her chamber?”

“Not gold like this.”

Yu Po pinched the edges of the coin with both hands and pulled. The coin came apart, revealing a tiny compartment where a small paper message might be concealed.

Hsieh took the two halves from his adjutant. “Most ingenious. Do you find what is inside?”

“No,” Yu Po admitted.

“But I know who sent it to her,” Ruha said. “And if I am correct, Esteemed Mandarin, I also know who told Cypress you were aboard the Ginger Lady.”

“Wei Dao?” Hsieh asked.

“That coin was given to me by someone who promised it would win the princess’s hospitality,” Ruha said. “It did.”

“How come Yu Po finds it in her chamber?”

“I saw her sneak it from my gold coffer. The person who gave it to me said the princess had a fondness for foreign coins,” Ruha explained. “Now I think it contained a message from a spy in Moonstorm House, warning Wei Dao of my identity. The princess has been most insistent about wishing to kill me—regardless of Prince Tang’s commands to the contrary.”

Hsieh pushed the two halves of the coin together and folded it into his palm, then waved the witch toward the door. “It seems our mutual problem is solved, does it not, Lady Ruha?”

Ruha did not move. “No. How could it be?”

“If dragon kidnaps Lady Feng, then kidnapper is no threat.”

The witch was confused by the mandarin’s misunderstanding—until she recalled that Hsieh had seen her destroy Cypress on the Dragonmere. She had said nothing about the dragon taking another body, and Ruha certainly saw no reason to broach the subject now.

“Do you not understand, Lady Ruha?” Hsieh asked. “We have only to locate dragon’s lair; then we find both Lady Feng and Yanseldara’s stolen staff.”

“Of course!” Ruha did her best to sound astonished. “And if you will me tell more about these ylang blossoms, perhaps I know someone who can be tricked into leading us to the lair.”