its of his ancestors to guide his sentries to the vandal who had destroyed his park. Although the imperial weapon- masters had taught him to wield a sword as well as any man, it did not even occur to him to stay in the garden and exact vengeance himself. From his earliest childhood, the prince had been taught to retreat from danger and call his guards to take care of the problem. It was a lesson he had not ignored once in thirty years of life.
At length, the sentries returned with unbloodied weapons and bowed to Tang. 'Garden of Flickering Tongues is safe for Mighty Prince.'
'You do not find vandal?'
Yuan shook his head. 'Only lizards, and only lizard tracks.'
Tang considered this, puzzled not by who had ravaged his garden or why-he knew the answers to both ques- tions-but by how the intruder had infiltrated the heart of his palace, vandalized the park, and escaped with his life. Truly, such a feat was as worthy of admiration as it was of indignation.
When he could not think of how the culprit had escaped. Tang sighed wearily. 'How unfortunate you did not capture the intruder. He has given me much work to do.' The prince always tended his garden himself, calling for aid only when he needed help to move something heavy. 'Return to your posts and punish each other, ten lashes each.'
The faces of the sentries fell. Given the magnitude of their failure, such a light punishment was humiliating.
Its temperance implied that Tang believed them incapable of doing better-which happened to be the case, though the prince did not fault the guards for their inad- equacy. Even the most devoted sentries could not capture intruders they could not see or hear, or find trespassers who left no tracks. Such tasks required a wu-jen. Unfor- tunately, the Minister of Magic was currently at odds with Tang's own sponsor, Mandarin Hsieh Han Liu, the Imperial Minister of Spices. Consequently, the Emperor's wu-jens were considered too valuable to waste on an inconsequential embassy like the Ginger Palace. Such political frustrations were a daily part of the prince's life, and one of the many reasons he preferred the company of lizards to that of men.
Tang waited until the last guard had stepped aside, then took his key from the red-lacquered gates and stepped through the Arch ofMany-Hued Scales. When he turned to close the gates, he glimpsed his guards glumly marching toward the Five Color Bridge and decided it would not do to have them brooding over their failure.
They were an elite company, and an elite company without honor was nothing.
'One thing more, my soldiers,' he called. 'You must double lashes for any man who fails to draw blood with each whip stroke.'
The guards bowed in acknowledgment, and Yuan could barely keep from smiling. 'Yes, Mighty Prince.'
Tang closed the gate and put the key in his sleeve pocket, leaving the lock unlatched in case the mysterious vandal returned. He fetched a small shovel, a linen sack, and a copper bucket from a tool shanty near the jungle quarter, then took a deep breath and went to the first mound of flies. As he slid the shovel beneath the droning heap, the insects rose into the air, revealing a pile of ran- cid lizard viscera. Fighting his gorge back, he scooped up the entrails and placed them in the sack, then filled his bucket from the swamp and washed the stones.
The work was humiliating for a prince, of course, but Tang preferred doing it himself to having the serenity of his garden disturbed by servants. He cleaned up the other mounds of viscera, then placed the bulging sack by the gate. The entrails had obviously come from the belly of his dead monitor, for none of the other lizards were large enough to hold so many intestines. What the prince did not understand was how the intruder had known it- was his favorite pet, a rare beast captured in the distant land of Chult. Only his personal staff knew how dearly he had paid for the creature, and they would no sooner betray him than his guards would.
Tang returned his tools to the shanty, then went over to the dead monitor. He waved aside a cloud of flies and grabbed the beast by its rear legs.
The beast jerked its feet from the prince's grasp.
Tang cried out and stepped away, his gaze dropping to the black stains that covered the bench and the stones beneath it. The stuff looked like dried blood, and the ran- cid, coppery smell certainly suggested appearances were correct. He did not see how the monitor could have lost so much blood and lived. The great lizard raised its head, fixing a dull-eyed gaze on the prince's face.
'Guards!' Tang stumbled backward toward the gate.
'Yuan! Come quickly!'
The monitor glanced at the gate, and Tang heard the sharp double click of the heavy lock-bolt sliding into its catch. He fished the key from his sleeve pocket and con- tinued to retreat, fighting down his growing panic and trying to decide whether he dared turn his back to make a dash for the gate.
Tang, you cannot flee me.
Tang heard the voice not with his ears, but inside his mind. It was raspy and rumbling, and even if it had come from the monitor's mouth, it would have been much too resonant for a lacertilian throat.
That much, you should remember.
'Cy-Cypress?'
The monitor nodded, and Tang's feet suddenly felt as heavy as boulders. At first, the prince thought the lizard had cast a spell on him, but he quickly realized that was impossible. The beast had uttered no mystic syllables, nor made any arcane gestures with its claws. Instead, Cypress was using what the Shou called the Invisible
Art, an ancient discipline whose practitioners employed nothing but the power of their own minds to perform supernatural acts. Tang had heard that his unwelcome guest was a master of the venerable art, but until now, he had been lucky enough to avoid a demonstration.
Tang's guards arrived at the park entrance and began to hammer on the gates, but they could not break through with anything short of a battering ram. Both portals were reinforced with heavy bands of steel, while the lock itself was the sturdiest Shou smiths could make. The sentries could not even scale the wall, as it was capped with a double crest of barbed spikes.
Cypress slunk off the bench, allowing Tang to glimpse a deep, white-fleshed gash that ran the entire length of the monitor's belly. The beast trundled across the plaza on four stubby legs, then stopped next to the prince's knee and rolled its lifeless gaze over his maitung.
Given that we have not seen you in so long, I find this altogether pretentious, The lizard's tongue darted out to snap at Tang's maitung, which was tailored with overlapping brown patches resembling the spade-shaped scales of an armored skink.
How long has it been since you attended Lair?
'You know I resign.'
Cypress slipped behind his captive and lashed out with the monitor's huge tail, catching Tang behind the knees and hurling him face first to the plaza. The prince's nose and mouth erupted in stinging pain, and he felt the unac- customed sensation of warm blood spilling from his nos- trils. He tried to rise and found himself pinned to the ground, his entire body now as heavy as only his feet had been a moment earlier. He screamed, more in rage than anguish, and wished that he had a sword in his hand-and the strength to raise it.
The hammering at the gates ceased, then a sharp boom reverberated across the plaza as several armored bodies slammed into the portals. The thick planks creaked, but the lock did not give way. Cypress circled around in front of the prince, barely glancing toward the gates. 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 fin- gers, 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.
' 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,
