“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.”
The two men returned with a small brazier already filled with hot coals. Ruha crushed one of the tears between her palms, then sprinkled the crumbs onto the embers. An aromatic smoke rose from the pan, filling the entire chamber with such a sweet, fresh smell that the Shou finally allowed their stoic masks to slip. They began to smile openly and crowd closer to the source, taking such deep breaths that some of them actually snorted. Even the stern-faced guards could not keep their nostrils from flaring.
Wei Dao studied her entourage’s reaction in bemused meditation. “This is not magic?”
“I am no spellcaster,” Ruha lied. She pressed the other tear into the princess’s hand and motioned toward the brazier. “It will smell just as sweet if you sprinkle the crumbs. Tomorrow, I will demonstrate its use in the making of perfumes and poultices.”
Wei Dao did not step toward the brazier. “Not necessary. We buy all you have.”
“What about the price?” Fowler gasped. “Aren’t you even going to ask?”
Wei Dao glanced at the brazier, where her entourage stood sniffing the sweet-smelling smoke. “You already tell me it is more valuable than gold. I believe you.”
Fowler shook his head in amazement, then looked back to Ruha. “Well, Lady Ruha, how much do we have?”
It took Ruha a moment to realize what he was asking, for she had not expected her plan to succeed quite so well. “I’m afraid we have very little at the moment.” The witch had only three more tears in her pocket. “You see, our ship was sunk by a dragon—”
“By dragon?”
Wei Dao’s exclamation caught Ruha as much by surprise as had the offer to buy all her frankincense. “It was a very large dragon,” the witch explained, keeping a watchful eye on the princess’s expression. “A black one. Do you know it?”
Wei Dao’s face became as unreadable as ever. “I do not know this dragon. But it is difficult for Shou to hear of dragons doing evil things.”
“Yes, I have heard your emperor is a green dragon.”
“Jade.” Wei Dao bowed, suggesting that the audience was at an end. “Please return to Ginger Palace with more frankincense and myrrh.”
Ruha did not return the bow. “You may be certain we will—but first, we are interested in purchasing some wares to take with us.” The witch fingered the silk veil that Hsieh had given to her. “As you can see, the love of Shou silk reaches even into the depths of Anauroch.”