Tang eyed the witch's fireball and did not climb from the wagon. "Burning blossoms would be unfortunate mis- take for all concerned-especially Yanseldara."
Though the heat of the fireball felt as though it were melting her arm, Ruha stopped short of flinging it into the wagon. "Do not lie to me. I heard you say this morn- ing that Cypress needs something more from you to com- plete his spell." The witch waved her flaming sphere toward the wagon. "It seems obvious enough that what he needs is fresh ylang oil."
"Yes, that is true." Tang scowled at Wei Dao and motioned for her to return her dagger to its sheath.
"Cypress needs fresh ylang oil to make love spell."
"Love spell?" Ruha gasped.
"You know what ylang blossoms do," Tang replied. "You see that this morning."
"A dead dragon-a dracolich-wishes the love of a half- elf?"
Tang nodded. "He loves Yanseldara for many years, since she wounds him and sends him away from Elver- suit." Tang placed a hand over his heart. "Love unre- quited is most sad."
Wei Dao rolled her eyes, then gestured at the fireball still burning in Ruha's palm. "We have no time for this foolishness, Wise Husband. Tell witch why she cannot destroy ylang blossoms."
Tang looked into Ruha's eyes and, finding no sympathy there, reluctantly nodded. "Very well. Love is matter of spirit. To save Yanseldara's spirit or to steal it, same thing is needed-powerful love potion."
"Then there must be a difference in how it is used."
"It is not necessary that you know that," said Wei Dao.
The witch ignored Wei Dao and hefted her fireball.
"Perhaps you would prefer that I assume you are lying about the blossoms?"
Prince Tang looked genuinely hurt. "You call me liar? I
risk my life-life of royal Shou Prince-to save you, and this is how you repay my love?"
Ruha lowered the fireball and used her free hand to snuff it out. She had learned all she was going to about the blossoms, and it was just enough to keep her from destroying the wagon.
"Prince Tang, you cannot love me, any more than
Cypress loves Yanseldara." Ruha spoke softly, for her intention was more to explain than to hurt. "Only a man can love, and you have yet to become a man."
Tang leapt out of the wagon, pushing several guards aside as he stepped toward Ruha. "Shou prince becomes man in tenth year. I am man for twenty years!"
Ruha shook her head. "You want me because I deny you, and that is the emotion of a child, not a man."
Tang's face contracted into a shriveled mask of rage and pain. His mouth opened as though he were going to speak, but all that emerged was an unintelligible sputter.
Wei Dao stepped to the prince's side and took his arm.
"She knows nothing. Great Prince."
The princess motioned to the guards and spoke in
Shou. A pair of them sheathed their swords and seized
Ruha by her arms. They started to drag her from the spicehouse, and Prince Tang made no move to stop them.
Ruha glanced over her shoulder. "A man takes respon- sibility for his actions, Prince Tang."
As she spoke, the witch tried to summon to mind the incantation of a wind spell and discovered she could not.
Only the faintest hint of the lasal haze remained in her mind, but it was enough to prevent her from using her magic.
Keeping her gaze fixed on the prince's face, Ruha con- tinued, "A man does not allow his fear to dictate his
actions, and a man does not hide his mistakes from those who can help him correct them."
Prince Tang looked away, and Wei Dao urged, "Pay her no attention. After Lady Feng is returned-"
"Returned?" Ruha snapped her arms free of her cap- tors and spun around, then found the tips of several hal- berds pressed against her body. She ignored them.
"Prince Tang, if you believe Cypress intends to return your mother, then you truly are a child."
The guards seized Ruha's wrists and started to drag her away, until Tang spoke to them in Shou. The two men stopped, but still grasped the witch's arms so tightly her bones ached.
"If he wants potion, Cypress must return Mother," said
Tang.
Ruha shook her head. "Does he not need her to cast the magic that will make Yanseldara love him? And even if he can do it himself-which he cannot, or you could not have been confident of her safety until now-remember why he attacked the Ginger Lady. Does he not fear that
Hsieh intends to put someone else in charge of the Gin- ger Palace? Would Lady Feng not make an excellent hostage to guarantee approval of the mandarin's choice?"
Tang turned to his wife. They began to argue in Shou.
"You need help to recover your mother." Ruha spoke loudly to make herself heard over the quarrel. "Admit that, and you have taken your first step to becoming a man."
Tang jabbed his index finger against his wife's fore- head and shouted something angry at her, then whirled away and strode over to Ruha.
"I need no help to rescue Mother!" The prince glared at
Ruha for a moment, then stepped past her and started toward the door. "And I am no child-I prove that soon enough!"
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 con- struction 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 hold- ing naked sword blades within inches other 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 conver- sation. Nevertheless, she had explored the dungeon dur- ing her initial search for Yanseldara's staff and could imagine what they were discussing. Down the left corri- dor 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.