Troy Denning - The Veiled Dragon

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 Heartlands long enough to know that the coins were accepted as currency throughout the region, for Sembite merchants 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 bodyguard, the Shou are liable to think you aren’t very important.”

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 Calimshan.”

“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 shadows 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 scarlet-tiled roof with upswept eaves. Inside the fortress, several buildings rose high enough above the outer curtain to display the same roof styling, lending an aura of harmony and supreme order to the entire edifice.

“I still don’t like this,” hissed Fowler. He was walking beside Ruha as they followed their guide, Abazm, down a white-bricked avenue toward the palace gates. The captain was dressed in a brown aba the witch had made for him the night before, and in his arms he bore the small wooden coffer Tombor had loaned them. “No one’s going to believe we’re spice buyers-not in these outfits!”

“If you do not like my plan, Captain, you may withdraw,” Ruha whispered. She stopped and held out her hands. “There is still time.”

Fowler clutched the box more tightly to his chest. “And let you out of my sight? When I’ve a new cog, and not a minute before.”

Abazm, a greasy-haired dwarf dressed in a striped burnoose, whirled about in midstride.

“What is all this whispering, Master and Mistress?” He was surprisingly thin compared to most dwarves, with bushy eyebrows as black as kohl, a hawkish nose, and the stubble of a dark, coarse beard. “It is most unbecoming. The Shou will think you do not trust me.”

“We don’t,” growled Fowler. “Keep walking.”

Abazm glanced toward the palace and remained where he was. “If the Shou believe you have no trust for me, they will have no trust for you.”

The dwarf’s gaze dropped to the coffer in Fowler’s hands, lingering there just long enough to send a shiver down Ruha’s spine. After joining them on the road, he had insisted on seeing their funds before he risked his own reputation by introducing them to the Shou. Though Ruha had been careful not to let him reach into the chest, Abazm had raised an eyebrow when he saw the Sembite coins. He had offered to check them for purity, remarking that a well-placed friend had told him a local thief was counterfeiting Sembite coins. The witch had curtly ordered Fowler to shut the chest, pretending to be suspicious of both the guide’s story and his motives.

“It is not necessary that the Shou trust us,” Ruha said. “It is only necessary that they like the color of our gold.”

“Of course, I cannot judge that without a closer inspection.” The dwarfs eyes flicked to the coffer and remained there, as though he expected Ruha to open the chest again.

“They’ll like it well enough.” Fowler bared his tusks at the little merchant. “Now walk.”

Abazm sighed heavily, then continued down the white-paved avenue. Fowler let the dwarf get a little way ahead, then turned to Ruha.

“I don’t like that little fellow, any more than I like this plan of yours,” the captain commented. “I’m sure Vaerana wanted us to say we’re from Sembia, like most spice merchants. We’d draw less notice than claiming we come from Anauroch.”