Fowler’s eyes flashed at the admonishment, but he stood very still and made no further protests.
Hsieh turned back to Ruha, arching his fine eyebrows. “I do not understand question. Dragon attacks ship to steal gold. That is reason dragon does anything.”
Ruha shook her head. “That wyrm was not an ordinary one, nor does the Ginger Lady seem an ordinary ship. The creature attacked you for another reason, and the reward I ask is that you tell me why.”
A nervous croak slipped from Fowler’s lips. Before the sound could become a word, the guards seized his hands and folded his wrists inward against their joints. The half-orc hissed in pain and looked away from the witch.
The mandarin pretended not to notice the captain’s slip, but his face lost all expression and became as unreadable as a stone. “I do not understand, Lady Ruha. Why do you believe we know dragon?”
The image of a yellow face changing into a black dragon flashed through Ruha’s mind, but she did not even consider telling Hsieh about the mirage. Judging by Fowler’s reactions so far, the Shou were a dangerous people, and she had no idea how they might react to her visions.
Ruha paused to pick her words, then said, “Does the Ginger Lady not carry a dragon’s figurehead on her prow? And was my captain mistaken when he called your emperor the Jade Dragon instead of the Jade Monarch?”
Fowler closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.
The mandarin showed no sign of anger—or any other emotion. “Lady Ruha, greatest dragons are not evil. I do not know why evil dragon attacks Ginger Lady, except to take gold. I go to Elversult on unfortunate business that has nothing to do with dragon. I never see that dragon before.”
“This unfortunate business you speak of, could it involve the dragon?” Ruha asked.
The narrowing of Hsieh’s eyes was barely perceptible, but it was enough to alarm Fowler.
“Lady Ruha, the Shou are an honorable bunch.” Though the captain struggled to keep his tone deferential, Ruha could hear both anger and fear lurking just beneath the surface. “If the mandarin’s business has something to do with the dragon, he’d say so. It’s—uh—bad manners to hint he’s holding back.”
Hsieh nodded. “Am so sorry, Lady Ruha, but you make poor bargain to trade your due for what little I know of dragon. Perhaps I find some other way to reward your noble service.” The mandarin spoke to his men, then went to the cabin’s shattered doorway and bowed to Ruha. “Until then, I am most happy to leave you in Pros.”
Four
The sky above the Ginger Palace was lucid and azure, as it could be nowhere but the arid plain south of the city of Elversult. Anticipating a pleasant morning of solitude in the confines of his private park, Prince Tang crossed the humped back of Five Color Bridge, strode down the opal-paved Path of Delight, and stopped beneath the iridescent curve of the Arch of Many-Hued Scales.
From the sleeve pocket of his maitung—the long silken tunic favored by Shou noblemen—the prince withdrew a large golden key. It was shaped like a chameleon’s head, with broad shoulder flanges and a sinuous blade resembling a long, flickering tongue. He rapped the top three times against the entryway’s red-lacquered gates, then inserted the blade into a brass keyway, turned the latch, and pushed the heavy portals aside.
Prince Tang did not find his pets arrayed before the gate, as they customarily were. Instead, the rocky plaza was strangely barren, save for a half dozen buzzing, blue-black mounds scattered along one edge. Beyond the droning fly clusters, twenty quartzite boulders imported from Calimshan had been torn from their footings and strewn over the carefully shaped dunes of the park’s desert quarter. In the forest region, circles of bark had been scratched around the trunks of the most exotic trees, and in the jungle zone, the meticulously strung jasmine vines lay sliced and twined about the base of the bamboo stalks. The swamp area was covered with tangled mats of pink and blue and yellow, decorative grasses torn from the bottom and left to drift on the murky waters, while the lotus blossoms and lily pads had been thrown onto the muddy bank to wither and die.
Tang could see only one of his pets, an elusive, jet-black river monitor. The great lizard had dragged itself from the swamp and stretched its fifteen-foot length over a stone bench, leaving its webbed feet, thick tail, and slender head to dangle over the sides. The beast’s neck was twisted toward the gate, as though it had been awaiting the prince’s arrival when the last gleam of hope seeped from its dull eyes.
Tang stared at the lifeless monitor for several bewildered moments, then finally realized that some contemptible barbarian had violated the sanctity of his garden. He retreated through the Arch of Many-Hued Scales, screaming as though he had been stabbed.
At the first shriek, a company of ten sentries appeared on the Path of Delight, emerging from camouflaged posts behind the walkway’s white-blossomed hedges. In the blink of an eye, Tang was encircled by a bristling wall of scale-armored men equipped with long, curve-bladed halberds. They neither touched their master nor inquired as to the reason for his scream, but simply stood ready to obey his orders and defend his life.
Prince Tang entered his garden again, his protective shell of soldiers compressing around him as he passed through the arch. He stopped inside the gateway, remaining silent while his guards examined the scene. He did not speak until their tortoise-shell helmets had stopped pivoting on their shoulders and the last gasp had fallen silent.
“How does this happen?” demanded the prince. “Is it not your duty to protect Garden of Flickering Tongues?”
The company officer, a young moon-faced noble named Yuan Ti, dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the stones at Tang’s feet. “Mighty Prince, your guards fail you.” Since his voice was directed at the ground, Yuan sounded as though he were mumbling. “We see no one enter garden.”
The prince snorted at the explanation. “How could it be otherwise? If you see intruder, he would be dead, would he not?” Only Tang himself used the garden; not even his wife, Princess Wei Dao, was allowed inside. Though Yuan could not see the gesture with his head pressed to the ground, the prince waved his hand at the destruction. “But does no one hear falling of stones, or scratching of trees, or ripping of vines?”
Yuan kept his brow pressed to the ground. “Great Majesty, your unworthy guards hear nothing, smell nothing, feel nothing. Please to punish.”
Tang ignored the request. “Go search garden.”
The prince could not imagine how his guards had missed the sound of the park being destroyed, but he knew the young noble would never lie to him. No Shou officer would commit such a treason, and not only because he feared for his family’s heads. The offense would dishonor his ancestors, causing them to lose their places in the Celestial Bureaucracy—an offense said ancestors would surely repay with all manner of curses and incurable plagues.
While the guards searched the park, Tang retreated through the gate and waited outside, praying to the spirits of his ancestors to guide his sentries to the vandal who had destroyed his park. Although the imperial weapon-masters had taught him to wield a sword as well as any man, it did not even occur to him to stay in the garden and exact vengeance himself. From his earliest childhood, the prince had been taught to retreat from danger and call his guards to take care of the problem. It was a lesson he had not ignored once in thirty years of life.
At length, the sentries returned with unbloodied weapons and bowed to Tang. “Garden of Flickering Tongues is safe for Mighty Prince.”
“You do not find vandal?”
Yuan shook his head. “Only lizards, and only lizard tracks.”