Трой Деннинг - The Veiled Dragon

“Not to worry,” the dwarf whispered. “I am a favorite of the Princess Wei Dao. She will see that we do not wait more than three or four hours.”

“Four hours?” Ruha gasped. That was half the day, and from what Tombor had said, Vaerana would be able to delay Hsieh’s arrival little more than a day. “Is there no faster way?”

Abazm’s bushy eyebrows came together in an exaggerated expression of hurt. “That is fast” He gestured to the long line of merchants. “Of late, Prince Tang has been slow about his business. Some of these men have been waiting three days already!”

Ruha glanced at Fowler and caught him sneering as though he were going to speak. “Say nothing, Fowal’sid. At least we are inside.”

“Of course we are. Is that not what I promised?” Abazm cocked an eyebrow and gazed thoughtfully at Ruha. “But if that is all you wished, there was no need to hire me—as I am sure your friends told you.”

“They said you could arrange a quick audience.”

Ruha looked toward the rear of the courtyard, deciding to use the time to familiarize herself with the palace’s layout. She could see only the front part of the compound. The back half was sealed off by a pair of winglike ramparts that spread outward from the midpoint of the mansion, where it changed to a two story structure, to meet the walls of the outer curtain. Above these partitions showed the tiled roofs of two huge, single storey buildings located near the back of the compound.

In the front courtyard, where Ruha and the other merchants sat waiting, a narrow, L-shaped building stood in the southeastern corner of the enclosure. The witch concluded that this was the sentry barracks, for a steady flow of guards passed through the doors in both directions. A similar building sat in the opposite corner of the courtyard. Save for the two guards posted outside its doors, this structure seemed deserted.

The witch had barely finished her study before the Honored One emerged from the mansion at the head of a small procession of guards. He led the troop across the courtyard toward Ruha and her companions, drawing an astonished murmur from the pillared gallery. Abazm frowned in puzzlement, but pushed himself off the bench and turned to his clients.

“It is better than I hoped,” he declared. “We will not be required to wait at all.”

Fowler looked far from relieved at this news. “Why all those guards?”

Abazm shook his head, bewildered. “Because of you two, perhaps. The Shou are not fond of half-men, and they are bound to be suspicious of women who cover their faces.”

The procession stopped before them; then the Honored One bowed to Abazm. “Princess Wei Dao asks you into audience hall.”

The dwarf cast a smug look over his shoulder and returned the bow, as did the witch and the captain. The Honored One turned toward the mansion, and the guards closed around Ruha’s small company without showing a flicker of suspicion or anxiety. The witch found it strange that, if the Shou were suspicious of her and Fowler, they did not bother to take her jambiya or the captain’s sword.

The Honored One led the procession up a marble staircase and through an open doorway at the far end of the mansion. They passed through a high-ceilinged anteroom so quickly that Ruha barely noticed the stylized frescoes, then entered a long, spacious room hung with silk tapestries and floored with the mosaic of a beautiful, flame-tailed crane.

In a teak throne at the far end of the room sat a striking Shou woman in a tight, ankle-length dress embroidered with a golden dragon almost as sinuous as she. Arrayed around her were a dozen women and half as many men, all watching in expectant silence as Abazm boldly led his clients forward. As the trio drew nearer, Ruha saw that the princess was a woman who believed even more firmly than the Bedine in the power of cosmetics. Her painted lips were as glossy and red as the palace’s lacquered gates, her eyelids were sapphire blue, and, save for the rouge highlights beneath her round cheekbones, her face was powdered as white as alabaster. Only a yellow scarf carefully tied around her throat seemed at all out of place, bunched up as it was around the dress’s high collar.

The Honored One stopped before the throne and bowed, then flourished his hand at Abazm. “The dwarf Abazm, Princess.”

Abazm stopped before Wei Dao’s throne and kneeled on the floor, then leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the wood. Ruha cast a questioning glance at Fowler, who scowled at the dwarf’s gesture and merely bowed. She did likewise, hoping they were not inadvertently insulting their hostess.

If they were, it was impossible to tell. The princess glared at the back of Abazm’s skull as though she wanted to stare a hole through it. The Honored One slipped away from the dwarf, and no one took any notice whatsoever of Ruha or Fowler.

At last, Abazm could no longer stand the silence. The dwarf cautiously allowed his gaze to creep across the floor to the princess’s feet. “Princess Wei Dao, you honor me with your radiance.”

“Abazm, how surprising that you return so soon to Ginger Palace.” The princess fingered the scarf at her neck. “And how fortunate.”

Abazm raised himself so that he was merely kneeling before Wei Dao. “I am your servant, and the servant of the Ginger Palace as well.” He twisted around to gesture at his clients, and Ruha glimpsed a bewildered gleam in the dwarf’s eyes. “I have brought traders from a distant land—”

“No! No more foreign powders!” Wei Dao ripped the scarf from her throat, exposing an ugly swath of partially healed skin eruptions. “See effects of your pearl dust?”

Abazm gasped at the sight of the princess’s ravaged complexion. Incoherent, half-voiced explanations regarding Lheshaylian sorcerers began to pour from his mouth, and he looked to the Honored One for help. The Shou fixed his gaze on Princess Wei Dao and pretended not to notice.

“You say, skin shine like moon!” Wei Dao waved a hand toward the sky, gesturing so angrily that the effort carried her to her feet. “Skin shine like harvest moon, craters and all!”

Abazm leapt up, but before he could turn to run, two guards caught him by the arms. They lifted the dwarf into the air and held him before the princess, his feet dangling six inches above the floor.

“I b-b-beg your forgiveness!” the dwarf cried. “I did not know this would happen! I made my own wife try the powder before I sold it to you!”

“You give me same powder as dwarf woman?” Wei Dao snarled.

“Only to see if it was safe, Princess!”

The princess’s eyes narrowed. “Liar—it is not safe!” She tied her scarf around her throat and nodded to the guards. “Take deceitful dwarf to tanning vats.”

Ruha cringed at the punishment. It was unlikely that the tubs would be deep enough to drown Abazm but, unless the Shou tanned leather differently than the Bedine, the vats would be filled with harsh fluids and the foulest offal gathered from the pens of dogs and swine. The witch knew better than to think she could intercede on the dwarf’s behalf, but she would not leave him behind after she recovered Yanseldara’s staff.

As the guards carried him out the door, Abazm jerked one arm free and swung around to face the throne. He glanced briefly at the witch and Fowler, then yelled, “Wait! Spare me, Princess, and I will tell you something you should know!”

Ruha’s stomach grew as heavy as lead. Fowler gnashed his tusks; then the Honored One’s panicked voice echoed across the chamber. “Take him away!”

The guard recaptured Abazm’s arm and turned to obey.

“Wait.” The princess leaned forward in her throne, peering past Ruha and Fowler to the dwarf. “Say what I should know, Abazm. Then I decide whether to spare you.”