Трой Деннинг - The Veiled Dragon

The Honored One stepped forward, positioning himself squarely in front of Wei Dao. “Frightened dwarf say a-anything, Princess. We cannot b-believe him.”

There was a catch in the Shou’s voice—and Ruha thought she knew why. “But you can believe us.” The witch bowed to the princess, tugging on Fowler’s sleeve so he would do the same. “We have no reason to lie.”

Wei Dao studied the witch and her companion, then asked, “You know what insidious dwarf says?”

Ruha turned to face Abazm, trying to decide whether it would be wiser to expose the chamberlain’s corruption herself, or to restrain herself and hope the treacherous dwarf realized that his best interests now lay in working with her.

“Do you know what dwarf says?” the princess demanded.

Ruha fixed her gaze on Abazm and let her hand drift toward her jambiya . Without turning around, she said, “I think I do, yes.”

Abazm swallowed hard, then looked away from Ruha. “Most Merciful Princess,” the dwarf began. He glanced at the witch’s hand, then continued, “Most Compassionate Lady, I beg leave to report that it is necessary to pay your trusted chamberlain in order to secure appointments within the Ginger Palace.”

Ruha sighed behind her veil. She turned to face the princess, fully expecting to be called upon to confirm Abazm’s story.

The chamberlain was already kneeling before Wei Dao’s throne, his brow pressed to the floor and his arms stretched out before him. “Compassionate Princess, I beg mercy for my family.”

Wei Dao raised her thinly plucked eyebrows. “Then you acknowledge this crime, Chuang?”

“I do. My pockets hang heavy with silver.” Chuang’s muffled voice was barely audible. “It is way of this land, and I am weak. At first, I am surprised and grateful when visitors pay me silver. But soon it is expected, and I do not open gates until—”

“Enough. You do not lie to me, and I grant mercy to your family.” Wei Dao stared at the prone chamberlain until his body began to tremble and great, racking sobs reverberated across the floor. “But you dishonor your ancestors before Mandarins of Heaven, and it is beyond me to ask that they make you welcome.”

“Yes, Princess. I know.”

Wei Dao looked up, then turned to a squat, flat-cheeked man with an unwavering scowl and granite eyes. “Please, General Fui.”

Before Ruha realized quite what was happening, the general had drawn a heavy, square-tipped sword from one of the guard’s scabbards and stepped to Chuang’s side. There was a sharp, wet thunk, and the witch saw just how swiftly and surely death would come if the Shou found her out.

The general cleaned the blade on the headless chamberlain’s silken robe, then returned the weapon to its owner and stepped back to his place. His face remained as impassive as ever.

Wei Dao studied the chamberlain’s disembodied head for a moment, then seemed to remember herself and looked toward the chamber entrance.

“Perfidious dwarf is permitted to leave.”

The guards set Abazm down. As soon as the merchant’s feet touched the floor, he spun on his heel and bowed very low.

“Your wisdom is more boundless than the sky, Princess!” As he spoke, he was backing out the door. “Only Eldath herself is more merciful and forgiving!”

Wei Dao accepted the tribute with a faintly amused smirk. “You always welcome at Ginger Palace, Abazm. Please to call when berry lip paint is ready.”

Once the dwarf was gone, Wei Dao rose and, stepping around the pool of blood at the base of her throne, led her entire entourage across the floor to Ruha and Fowler. She circled them slowly, running her gaze over their robes and studying the witch’s veil especially closely, then stopped in front of them.

Ruha was astounded that Wei Dao’s guards would allow their mistress to approach so closely to two armed strangers, a fact that suggested they believed the princess to be perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

“Abazm says you come to do business with Ginger Palace?”

“Aye, with Prince Tang,” Fowler confirmed.

Wei Dao’s eyes hardened. “Prince Tang is no longer receiving today. Perhaps you come back tomorrow.”

“We’re wanting a large cargo, and we’re ready to pay now.”

“Tomorrow.”

The princess stepped away without turning her back on her visitors and paid no attention to the coffer in Fowler’s hands, even when he shook it to clank the heavy load of coins inside.

Ruha laid a restraining hand on the captain’s arm. “That is enough, Fowal’sid.”

The half-orc scowled, but held the coffer steady, and Wei Dao stopped short of turning to leave.

“We have come to sell as well as buy, Princess,” Ruha said. “And you will be more interested in our wares than your husband.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ruha caught Fowler frowning at her unexpected improvisation. She ignored him and lowered a hand to the pocket of her aba , asking, “If I may, Princess?”

Wei Dao nodded, but Fowler, who had seen her draw spell components from those same pockets, cleared his throat.

“Maybe now’s not the time—”

Ruha whirled sharply on the burly half-orc. “Did I not tell you to be silent, Fowal’sid?”

Fowler’s leathery lip trembled with the impulse to curl into a snarl, but the half-orc forced himself to lower his gaze and nod respectfully. “You did, Lady.”

When the witch looked back to their hostess, she noticed a glimmer of respect in Wei Dao’s otherwise inexpressive face. Deciding that she had read the princess’s character correctly, Ruha reached into a pocket and withdrew two milky tears of hardened tree resin.

“Have you heard of frankincense or myrrh?”

Wei Dao examined the droplets closely. “Are they gems?”

“In a manner of speaking, for they are more valuable than gold. If you can have someone fetch a brazier and fill it with coals, I will show you.”

“Magic is forbidden in my presence.”

“This is not magic.” Ruha found it interesting that the Shou considered sorcery a greater threat to the safety of their nobility than they did blades. “The drops will produce a pleasant smoke, nothing more.”

Wei Dao nodded to two men, who promptly left through a door in the rear of the chamber. Fowler continued to stare at the white tears so tensely that Ruha feared he would alarm Wei Dao. The witch stepped closer to her hostess, until their shoulders were almost touching.

“While we await the brazier, I will tell you more about these wondrous tears.” Ruha raised her hand, displaying the milky drops before Wei Dao’s eyes. “They are resins, scraped from beneath the bark of certain trees that grow only on the eastern side of the highest mountains in Anauroch.”

“The great desert?” Wei Dao asked.

“Yes. There, we use frankincense and myrrh to scent the air around stagnant oases. The tears can also be pressed to create perfumes, or mixed with almond oil to create restorative tonics and soothing lotions, or stirred into elixirs to ease the pains of childbirth.” Ruha paused to see if this elicited any interest from the princess. When it did not, she continued, “They are also good for soothing stinging eyes, earaches—even as a remedy to the bites of certain venomous insects, and as an antidote to some kinds of poison.”

Again, Ruha watched closely to see if the last item of her description drew any special notice from the princess. But if Wei Dao had any interest in poisons, it remained concealed with the rest of her thoughts.

“Is there anything frankincense and myrrh cannot do?” Wei Dao’s voice was somewhat incredulous.

“Perhaps there are other uses, but I have described all I can demonstrate.”