Трой Деннинг - The Veiled Dragon

I have told you, no one resigns from the Cult of the Dragon!

The monitor took Tang’s hand in its mouth. The prince cringed, fearing he would soon have a bloody stump at the end of his wrist, but the powerful jaws did not close. Instead, the beast’s agile tongue rolled over Tang’s fingers, removing his golden rings. After doing the same with the other hand, the dead lizard dropped to its belly and stared the prince in the eye.

I thank you for the offering. Now, where is my ylang oil?

“Where is Lady Feng?” Tang groaned. “You have oil when I have mother.”

A red ember sparked deep within the lizard’s eye, then the beast dragged one huge claw across the prince’s face.

“You dare scratch me?” Tang squawked, astonished that even a spiteful creature like Cypress would mark a person of Imperial Shou blood. He spat on the beast’s snout, then added, “For that, you die thousand deaths!”

The monitor’s gaping jaws opened as though to chomp Tang’s head off; then the beast tipped its head sideways and did not bite. I think I shall!

A deep, rumbling laugh—more like a cough—rolled up from someplace deep in the monitor’s hollow stomach, and Cypress laid one of the lizard’s heavy claws on the prince’s shoulder.

I shall die a thousand deaths—a thousand deaths at least!

Cypress removed the foot from Tang’s shoulder and backed away, still chuckling. The prince found that his body no longer seemed quite so heavy. He gathered himself up and stood, one hand pinching his bloody nose. Another boom echoed across the plaza. The monitor’s head turned so that it could watch the arch with one drab eye and Tang with the other.

Lady Feng informs me that only you know how to press the ylang blossoms, so I will spare your life—but I am losing patience. If I do not have the oil by tomorrow, I shall start returning your mother in parts .

“What you ask is impossible! Pressing blossoms take one week—”

Don’t lie to me! I know how long you need to prepare the oil! The monitor whirled away and started across the plaza. Tomorrow .

A double click sounded beneath the Arch of Many-Hued Scales. The gates burst open, and Yuan led the guards into the garden. Several of the men were only half dressed and bleeding from their whip cuts. Their eyes went first to the prince’s bloody face, then to the lumbering monitor. To a man, they lowered their halberds and charged.

“No! Stand—”

Tang’s command came too late. Cypress ran the monitor’s dark gaze from one end of the company to the other. As the black eyes fell on each sentry, the man wailed and slapped his palms to his ears, letting his weapon fly from his hands. In a breath’s span, all ten guards lay writhing on the ground, screaming madly and bleeding from their ears. The lizard sauntered calmly into the squad’s midst, paused to suck the silver honor ring off each man’s thumb, and walked out the gate. By the time Cypress had lumbered down the Path of Delight onto the Five Color Bridge, the last sentry had curled into a tight ball and lay staring at the ground in front of him through gray, sunken eyeballs.

Tang sank to his knees and looked numbly around his garden, absentmindedly counting all the boulders and trees he would have to replace. At least now he knew how the vandal had penetrated the heart of his palace; without a wu-jen , even the most elaborate traps and precautions were doomed to fail against a master of the Invisible Art.

From beneath the Arch of Many-Hued Scales came a soft-voiced cough. Tang turned and saw the lithe form of his diminutive wife, Wei Dao, standing in the gateway. She had apparently come from her gymnasium, for her brow was wet with sweat, and she wore a black samfu , a long-sleeved uniform in which she always dressed to practice empty-hand defense. Today, her attire also included a red throat scarf. Despite her ruffled hair and flushed complexion, the princess looked as striking as ever, with generous painted lips, high cheeks, and a watchful, sloe-eyed gaze.

Wei Dao bowed. “Mighty Prince, please forgive intrusion, but I hear terrible commotion.”

Her eyes darted from her husband’s blood-smeared face to the fallen guards, but she made no comment on their condition and did not move to help them. As Tang’s wife, such things were as far beneath her dignity as that of the prince himself; at their first convenience, one of them would inform the commander of the guard that some of his men were in need of attention.

“I see Chult lizard crossing Five Color Bridge,” said Wei Dao. “It looks in no condition to walk.”

Tang rose and crossed the plaza to his wife. “We have unwelcome visitor.” He left the garden and pulled the red-lacquered gates shut behind him. “We need wu-jen .”

Wei Dao considered this a moment, then asked, “To stop dragon?” Then, as though there could be some question of which dragon she meant, she added, “To stop Cypress?”

Tang nodded. “I do not understand why, but he comes himself.” Cypress seldom ventured from the gluttonous comfort of his lair and would normally have sent his high priestess, Indrith Shalla, to deliver the threat. “And he leaves in body of monitor. Why does dragon want carcass of giant lizard?”

Wei Dao’s eyes flashed. “What do we care?” She took the scarf from around her neck, revealing the fading remnants of an ugly skin rash, and dabbed at Tang’s blood-smeared face. “Give him ylang oil before he kill Lady Feng.”

Tang winced at his wife’s ministrations. “He does not kill Lady Feng. She is safe.”

Wei Dao began to scrub the claw marks on her husband’s cheeks—harder than necessary, it seemed to him. “If dragon kills mother, you lose all honor before Emperor. We never return to Tai Tung. We spend rest of our lives exiled from court.”

Tang could think of worse fates, but he did not dare say so in the presence of his ambitious wife. “Lady Feng is safe.” He pulled Wei Dao’s hands away from his stinging face. “I know.”

The princess scowled and tried another tack. “Still better to give Cypress what he wants. If Lady Feng is not here when Minister Hsieh arrives, there be many questions. How do you explain that Cult of Dragon steals Third Virtuous Concubine?”

Tang pulled away from his wife and pushed his key into the gate lock. “I cannot give Cypress what he wants.”

Wei Dao’s perfect mouth twisted into a doubtful frown. “What do you mean? I see hundreds of ylang blossoms in spicehouse.”

“All picked in evening.” Tang turned the key and heard the double click of the bolt shooting into the catch. When the commander of the guard came to fetch his men, he would have to be entrusted with the key. There was nothing else to be done; certainly, the garden could not be left unlocked. The prince faced his wife, then said, “Ylang blossoms picked in evening are not potent.”

“Not potent?”

Tang shrugged. “They are good for balms and teas, but potion made from those blossoms does not last. Only flowers picked in morning have strength to make permanent love potion.”

Wei Dao narrowed her sloe-eyed gaze. “Why do we have only weak blossoms?”

“Because strong blossoms do not keep long. Even if journey from Shou Lung is short, they spoil before we sell them all.”

Wei Dao shook her head in open disbelief. “No. You do not want venerable mother to return! You like life of barbarian!”

Unaccustomed to being addressed in such tones, even by his own wife, the prince raised his hand—then found Wei Dao’s wrist pressed against his own, blocking his strike.

They glared into each other’s eyes for a moment, then Tang asked, “What if I press oil and spell fails? What does Cypress do to Lady Feng then?”