Troy Denning - The Veiled Dragon

The chamber itself only added to Tang’s impression that he had surfaced in a place of eternal paradise. The ceiling and walls were draped with jewelry both ancient and new: thumb-sized diamonds set into gold rings, blood-red rubies strung end-to-end in long chains, emeralds as large as cat eyes dangling from ear clips of pure platinum. From dozens of ancillary passages poured streams large and small, all passing over beds of pearl and opal before they fell into a sparkling lake that filled the lower half of the cavern.

Unlike the brown soup at the other end of the passage, the waters here were as clear as glass, and the bottom of the entire pool was covered by minted coins of every imaginable size and kingdom. A short swim away, the coins rose up to form the glistening beach of an island made entirely of precious ingots-and more gold than silver. In the center of the isle stood a single oaken staff-no doubt Yanseldara’s-with three gnarled branches rising at the top to grasp a huge orange topaz. From the depths of this gem burned the fiery light that illuminated the entire chamber, glimmering so brilliantly that the prince could hardly make out the form of the tall, willowy woman standing beside it.

“Lady Feng!” Tang swam to the island, then stopped on the shore and bowed to his mother. “Will Third Virtuous Concubine honor her humble son with audience?”

The woman stepped away from the staff and peered down the slope at her son. Unlike most Shou women, she showed every day of her age-and then some. She wore her gray hair pulled into a tight bun that did little to lessen its unruly appearance, and her skin was as ashen and flaky as lizard scales. The crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes fanned out like spiderwebs to veil her entire face, while the curious way that she cocked her head only emphasized the contrast between the pop-eye through which she saw the outer world and the squinty white orb that was usually turned inward to watch the spirit world.

“Tang!” she said at last. “What do you do here?”

“I come to rescue you, Lady Feng.” The prince held his bow. It was not unusual to have an entire conversation with the Third Virtuous Concubine without receiving permission to rise. It was a good thing she was not a queen; he would have had to kowtow. “I also come to destroy Cypress’s spirit gem.”

“No. You mustn’t!” She began to pick her way down the ingot slope. “Cypress would know!”

“It does not matter. He already tries to kill me for rescuing you.”

“You risk life?” Lady Feng slapped Tang on the back of the head. “You are Shou prince!”

“Rescuing you is only way to redeem honor of Ginger Palace.”

“Do I ask to be rescued?” Lady Feng grabbed Tang’s chin and pulled his head up, then waved her arm around the glittering chamber. “Here is more wealth than all Imperial treasuries!”

Tang scowled at this, for his mother had always been too wise to value wealth above freedom. “What good are these riches? Whole room of gold and diamonds is worth less than nothing if it makes prisoner of you.”

Lady Feng’s squinty eye rolled in its socket, perhaps in dim recognition of the wisdom she herself had imparted to the prince. Her pop-eye, however, darted around the room from bauble to bauble, as though checking to be certain that each one remained in its place.

“Do not argue!” she ordered. “Wealth shown is wealth lost to thieves.”

Tang shook his head sadly. “You have dragon sickness.” He started up the ingot slope. “Show me where Cypress hides spirit gem; then we leave.”

“Go no farther, Tang.”

Tang stopped in his tracks. When Lady Feng assumed that tone, she was not a woman to be trifled with. His mother was capable of killing a man with the merest wisp of an incantation. Though he believed she loved him as any mother loved her child, she was a Scholar of Yen-Wang-Yeh, and to scholars of the Great Judge, life and death were merely aspects of one existence; even a son could not be sure his mother would care which state he happened to occupy.

After a moment’s consideration, Tang realized how to solve his dilemma. He faced his cronish mother. “I only try to protect your treasure, Lady Feng. Cypress thinks it belongs to him. We must destroy him.”

Lady Feng’s pop-eye flashed in anger, but the squinty one rolled around to study him. It was horribly bloodshot, with a milky iris and a black pupil that seemed as deep as the Well of Eighteen Hells itself, and Tang had not seen it since he was a little boy.

“Tang, you try to trick me?”

For the first time since his battle with the wyverns, Tang felt like a coward. He let his gaze drop and nodded. “But only to protect you from Cypress. Whether you understand or not, dragon sickness has made you his prisoner more than chains.”

The squinty eye trembled as though from a palsy, but continued to linger on Tang’s face for a long time. At last, Lady Feng said, “Tunnel is long. If we destroy spirit gem, how do we escape?”

“We carry extra air.” To demonstrate, Tang opened his water skin and filled it with breath. “Then I pull us through passage on rope I leave tied to other end.”

Lady Feng eyed the air sack for a long time, then reluctantly nodded. “But we do not smash gem until we are outside.” The squinty eye rolled back into her head, and she added, “Then we destroy Cypress and come back to cave of wealth!”

“Of course-if that is truly wish of Third Virtuous Concubine.” Tang ran a troubled eye over the glittering chamber; a month ago, his mother would have looked on the vast treasure with the mocking disdain of one who recognized such things as a worldly illusion. Now, it was all too easy to imagine Lady Feng returning to live out her life among these lonely riches. “Perhaps we even build palace for you.”

A pithy smile crept across the gray lips of the Third Virtuous Concubine. “Most excellent idea. You know where to find spirit gem?”

“Cypress wishes to be with love. Gem can be only one place.” Tang looked at the glowing gem in Yanseldara’s staff. “I get staff. You gather your things.”

As the prince turned to climb the ingots, a gentle wave rolled up the beach, stirring the precious coins and soaking his feet to the ankles. Tang scowled at the rising water, trying to imagine what might have caused the surge.

Lady Feng grabbed his arm and shoved him into the water. “You must hide! Cypress returns!”

At the far end of the Ginger Palace’s long audience hall, the new chamberlain drew aside two silk draperies and opened a pair of teak doors. A double column of Minister Hsieh’s yellow-cloaked guards marched into the room and split, one line filing to each side of Ruha and Vaerana. Behind the warriors followed a parade of servants bearing a triangular table, three teak chairs, and a tray with a steaming teapot and a trio of tiny, deep bowls.

As Hsieh’s men took their positions, Vaerana scowled and leaned close to Ruha. “I don’t know why I listen to you. This is going to be worse than Voonlar. They mean to take us prisoner.”

“You are too suspicious, Vaerana. They intend nothing of the kind.”

“Then why so many guards?”

“They are only for ceremony.” Ruha shook her head at the Lady Constable’s suspicions, remembering how easily Minister Hsieh had disabled Wei Dao. “The mandarin is quite capable of defending himself.”

Vaerana sneered doubtfully, but fell silent as the servants arrived with the furniture. They put the table on the chamber’s exquisite floor mosaic, carefully arranging it so the point of the triangle stood over the head of the flame-tailed bird and the base faced Ruha and the Lady Constable. They placed two chairs on the women’s side and positioned the third one before the tip of the table. The man bearing the tea tray stepped to one side, then stood at attention while Minister Hsieh, with Yu Po following close behind, entered the room.