The captain fetched some water from a nearby stream so the witch could tend her shark bite; then they settled in to wait, too weary to talk or do anything but listen to the distant creak of passing wagons.
Twilight came, and worried that Tombor would not be able to find them in the dusky wood, Ruha asked the cap- tain to collect some sticks while she gathered some dry moss off the forest floor. She was about to strike the fire when the portly cleric emerged from the shadows, appearing so suddenly and silently that he startled
Fowler and made him drop an armload of branches he had collected.
"For a big man, you move mighty quiet." Fowler eyed a small wooden coffer that Tombor was carrying in both hands. "Especially considering that your arms are full."
A sour smile flashed across the cleric's lips and dis- appeared instantly, then he chuckled merrily. "Sorry;
sometimes I can't resist. It's a gift of the gods."
"Which one?" Ruha asked. "Most priests invoke their gods often, but I have yet to hear you utter the name of yours."
Tombor set the coffer on the ground at her feet. "My god is not so vain as the others, but his healing magic is as strong as that of most-as you'll soon see." He removed a small bundle of cloth from his pocket, then turned to
Fowler and motioned at the dry moss Ruha had gath- ered. "Would you be good enough to start a small fire?"
Ruha passed her tinderbox to the captain, then watched as Tombor unwrapped his bundle. Inside was a dark, sour-smelling balm that seemed to undulate like water. The cleric dipped his fingers into the salve, and the witch pulled her aba up to display her wound. After the long ride from Pros, it had started to open again. The edges were red and inflamed, while a steady flow of clear liquid oozed from the laceration itself.
Tombor rubbed his salve over the injury, and Ruha's leg seemed to disappear beneath a rippling shadow. The ointment felt as light as air; there was no greasy feeling or any burning sensation, only a slight, soothing coolness upon her skin, similar to what it felt like to step out of the hot sun into the shade of a large tree.
Once Tombor had smeared the balm over the entire wound, he tossed aside what remained. "It's my best salve, but I have to mix each batch fresh. It doesn't keep more than an hour." Tombor placed the coffer he had brought next to Fowler's fire, then said, "We'll let the balm do its work while I explain what I brought."
He opened the lid, revealing what looked to be several hundred pieces of gold stamped with the proud raven of the Kingdom of Sembia. Ruha had lived in the Heart- lands long enough to know that the coins were accepted as currency throughout the region, for Sembite mer- chants controlled much of the area's trade.
"And the Lady Constable said she couldn't buy me a new cog!" Fowler snorted.
"She couldn't-at least not with this gold." Tombor reached deep into the chest and removed a coin, then used his knife to scratch it and reveal the dull gray sheen of lead. "The coins on top are real. The rest are fakes
Vaerana took from a local thief. Don't try to buy anything with them, but they should serve to convince the Shou you're a legitimate spice buyer."
"That's to be the witch's disguise?" Fowler asked.
"It's the only way we can get her into the Ginger
Palace." He turned back to Ruha. "Tomorrow morning, you'll meet a local merchant we've hired to present you to the Shou. He's a useful tool, but an unreliable one, so don't tell him anything about your mission."
"Our mission," Fowler said. "I'm going with her."
Ruha lifted her brow. "Thank you, Captain, but-"
Fowler raised his hands to silence her. "You don't have any choice. Witch. I'm not letting you out of my sight until I get my new cog. Besides, if you don't have a body- guard, the Shou are liable to think you aren't very impor- tant."
Ruha looked to Tombor, who nodded. "It's a good idea."
He reached into his pocket to remove a gold coin. It was as large as Ruha's palm, and embossed with the image of a camel and several strange letters. "Make certain that
Princess Wei Dao sees this. She has a love of coins from far lands, and this one comes all the way from Cal- imshan."
"May I offer it to her as a gift?" Ruha asked, reaching for the gold piece. "Perhaps I can make a friend-"
Tombor shook his head, pulling the coin out of her reach. "It's better to let her find it on her own." He tossed the coin into the coffer. "Just make certain she sees it, and she'll think there are more treasures like it deeper in the chest. Her imagination will do more to win you a night in the Ginger Palace than any gift."
"And once we're inside, what then?" asked Fowler.
"You'll only have a day or so to find Yanseldara's staff and get out," Tombor answered. "Vaerana will do her best
to stall Hsieh's caravan, but she won't be able to hold it up long without starting a war."
"What does the staff look like?" Ruha asked. "And do you have any suggestions as to where I might find it?"
"The staff isn't much to look at-it's a plain rod of oak-but there's a huge topaz on top. None of us has any idea where you should look. The Shou are a secretive people, especially about their homes. All I can tell you is that Tang's mother, Lady Feng, is reportedly a master of spirit magic."
Tombor glanced down at Ruha's leg, where the dark balm had stopped rippling and now looked like nothing more than a strange shadow with no source.
"The salve's done its work," the cleric said. "Turn your leg toward the firelight."
Ruha did as instructed. When the flickering yellow light fell on her thigh, the balm rose off her leg like dark steam. The shark bite had closed completely, leaving only a thin curved line and slight red sheen to mark where the wound had been.
"That is a most marvelous balm." Ruha looked from her wound to Tombor's heavy, jowled face. "You must tell me which god to thank!"
Pretending not to hear Ruha's request, the cleric closed the coffer lid and stood. "With that chest among your things, you'll need a safe place to spend the night.
I'd recommend the Axe and Hammer. Anyone in the city will tell you how to get there."
"What about our guide?" Fowler asked.
"He'll meet you on the way," Tombor replied. "Just start down Snake Road."
"How will we recognize him?" Ruha asked.
"Don't worry about that; he'll find you." Tombor stepped away from the fire, slipping into the dusky shad- ows as quietly as he had appeared. "Abazm always knows who's on the road to the Ginger Palace."
Save for an impression of impregnable reclusion, the
Ginger Palace had little in common with those hulking stacks of stone Heartland lords called home. Instead of the squalid green waters of a moat, the Shou citadel was surrounded by the soldierly ranks of a ginkgo forest, and sat not upon some windswept crag, but upon a square mound of pounded earth. The walls of its outer curtain were plastered smooth and painted white as alabaster, and they were capped along the entire length by a peaked roof of scarlet tiles. At every corner stood a tower with five stacked balconies, each one covered by a scar- let-tiled roof with upswept eaves. Inside the fortress, sev- eral buildings rose high enough above the outer curtain to display the same roof styling, lending an aura of har- mony and supreme order to the entire edifice.