She had tipped the cask. The Third Virtuous Concu- bine 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 pas- sage 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 pas- sage, 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 strug- gled 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 tun- nels 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 pas- sage 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 speak- ing 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 coun- tered. "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 with- ered 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 blos- soms 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 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 ter- rified 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 nos- trils; 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."