“Something strange is happening,” Vaerana agreed. “I’ve heard reports that the cult’s paying good gold to fishermen for tiny pieces of that dragon you killed.”
“That’ll hardly drain their treasure boxes,” Fowler observed. “The sharks got most of the carcass.”
Vaerana nodded. “For nearly a tenday now, the cult’s been shipping wagon-loads of shark out of Pros, but none of it ever shows up in Elversult.”
“Where could it be going?” Ruha asked.
Vaerana shrugged. “With all that’s going on, I didn’t think it was worth the trouble of tracking down. Maybe I was wrong.”
“That’d be a good idea,” Fowler said. “Cypress might not be as gone as we thought.”
Tombor the Jolly came stomping through the trees. “Vaerana, the Shou want their mandarin. Archers are beginning to gather along the walls.”
“Let them!” Vaerana turned to go back to the road. “We’re going to have a battle soon enough.”
Ruha grabbed the Lady Constable by the arm. “But the Shou do not have Yanseldara’s staff!”
“They’re still my best hope of stopping the cult—or Cypress—and saving Yanseldara.”
“I may know of a better way,” Ruha said, thinking of Lady Feng’s abandoned familiar. “Give me another day, and I will find Tang’s mother—and Yanseldara’s staff.”
Vaerana shook her head. “I don’t know if Yanseldara has another day—and even if she does, Elversult may not. The Cult of the Dragon is growing more powerful by the hour.”
“How long’ll it take you to storm the palace?” Fowler asked. “And even if it’s less than a day, can you be sure Tang will tell you what you want to know—or that it’ll do you much good?”
Vaerana looked to Tombor. “What do you think?”
The cleric’s gaze darted from Fowler to Ruha to Vaerana. Finally, he smiled and shrugged amiably. “It’s all the same to me. I just need to know what you’re doing.”
Vaerana bit her lip, then finally said, “Tell Hsieh that he’s free to go.” After Tombor left, the Lady Constable gently took Ruha’s arm and, in a tone that was almost pleading, said, “Witch, you can’t foul this up.”
“I shall not.” Ruha glanced toward the road to make certain that she was still shielded from the view of any Shou, then whispered the incantation of the same sun spell she had used to vanish the day before. A shimmering wave of heat rolled down her body, leaving both her clothes and her flesh as transparent as air. “Just give me until tomorrow at dawn.”
With that, the invisible witch returned to the road, where Tombor was just giving the order to release Hsieh and the caravan drivers. She went to the nearest wagon and raised the edge of its tarp just far enough to slip inside, and nearly gagged on the cloying odor that rose from the cargo box: fresh ylang blossoms.
Nine
The servants had brought a small, triangular table of polished mahogany into the Hall of Amity and placed three teak thrones around it. Prince Tang and his wife sat close together on one side, staring at their reflections in the burnished surface, and Minister Hsieh sat alone at the opposite point. The shape of the table represented the trio’s nominal equality as members of the Imperial Household of Shou Lung, the seating arrangement reflected their actual status in the Emperor’s eyes, and the absence of any guards except the minister’s was a concession to his office: only the Emperor himself could bring personal guards into the presence of a mandarin.
“Why does table have only three sides?” Hsieh demanded. “Where is Lady Feng?”
The knot in Tang’s stomach tightened even further, but he forced himself to slacken his face muscles and meet the mandarin’s eyes. “Lady Feng is not here.”
The mandarin accepted the prince’s nonanswer with stern inexpressiveness. “Is most worthy concubine available? I travel many thousands of li to speak to her.”
The prince hazarded a glance at his wife, whose face remained as unreadable as the mandarin’s. They had not expected this. Though Hsieh and Lady Feng were cousins, they disliked each other vehemently and had taken pains to avoid each other for years. It was even whispered that, after some incident involving Lady Feng’s familiar, it had been the mandarin who had arranged the exile of the Third Virtuous Concubine.
At last, Wei Dao asked, “You have nothing to say to Honored Husband?”
Hsieh regarded the prince and princess in thoughtful silence, until a smirk of amusement flickered briefly across his lips. “No, to surprise of everyone in Hall of Supreme Harmony, profits of Ginger Palace are most satisfying. Even Emperor notice.”
Tang’s stomach started to writhe and churn. The good news would only make it more difficult to admit that he had allowed someone to kidnap the Third Virtuous Concubine.
“Do not look so troubled, Prince. We will talk after I see Lady Feng.” Hsieh’s uncovered eye narrowed in mild rebuke. “I am most anxious to hear why Ministry of Spices does not know about Ginger Palace’s poison trade.”
Tang rose and accepted the mandarin’s admonishment with a polite bow. “I am most anxious to make report on anything you wish.” He fixed his eyes on the silver-trimmed hem of the mandarin’s maitung, then took a deep breath and forced himself to speak again. “But first, I must relate regrettable truth about Lady Feng.”
Even a seasoned bureaucrat like Minister Hsieh could not prevent the blood from draining from his face, thereby betraying his shock. “Something has happened?”
Wei Dao was on her feet and speaking before Tang could continue. “When Prince Tang says Lady Feng is not here, he means not in Ginger Palace.”
Hsieh’s jaw fell, and when his brow furrowed this time, the rebuke was not a gentle one. “Then where is Third Virtuous Concubine?”
Again, Wei Dao answered for her husband. “She tends to sick friend in Elversult.”
The mandarin scowled and, apparently resigning himself to having all his questions answered by the princess, turned directly to Wei Dao.
“It is most indecorous to have Emperor’s consort wandering about outside her palace, especially in land of barbarians.” Though his face showed no sign of emotion, there was a dubious edge in his voice. “Why not bring sick friend to Ginger Palace?”
“Friend is too sick to move.”
Hsieh’s eyes narrowed; then he whirled back to Prince Tang. “Who is this friend?”
“Very important—”
Hsieh raised his hand to silence the princess. “I ask honorable husband.”
Tang glanced at his wife, who wisely made no attempt to communicate what she had intended to say. Though the mandarin’s gaze was riveted on the prince, his adjutant was watching Wei Dao from the corners of his eyes.
Tang could not bring himself to answer. He was too blinded by fear to see the escape toward which Wei Dao had been driving. Lying to a mandarin was both a crime as terrible as treason and an indelible stain on the honor of his ancestors, yet now that his wife had shown him the way, he wanted nothing more than to avoid admitting his ignoble failure.
“Who is Lady Feng’s friend?” Hsieh demanded.
Tang realized that his wife could have intended to give only one answer. “Lady Feng visits Moonstorm House in Elversult.” The prince felt as though he would retch; his stomach was turning somersaults and his jaws were aching. “Queen of city is very ill, and her priests ask for help of Third Virtuous Concubine.”
Hsieh’s face did not soften. “Then why does constable woman harass Shou caravan? Making hostage of Emperor’s servant is poor way to show appreciation.”
As badly as he wanted to, the prince did not look toward Wei Dao. Certainly, she had already thought of an answer to this simple question, but the mere hint of coaching from her would be enough to condemn both Tang and his wife to slow and dishonorable deaths.