Lady’s skill.
“Well? What is it?” The Blue Lady stood in the doorway. A group of kuo-toa stood behind her with their weapons bared.
“There has been a… problem with the recovery of the book in the Pirate Isles. The men in our employ have run into an obstacle.”
“I don’t want to hear about obstacles.”
Droust shrank in his seat. “Nor do I, lady. Still, it might be our good luck this time.”
“How so?”
“The obstacle they encountered is a Shou monk from the Standing Tree Monastery.” “How do they know that?”
“They know this one from previous encounters.” The Blue Lady thought about that, and Droust feared the dark thoughts that constantly paraded through her head. She directed her cold gaze at him. “You’re certain this monk is after the same book we are?”
“Lady, the Standing Tree Monastery has been searching for Liou’s books for hundreds of years. It was my good fortune when I happened on the two in my possession”
“My possession. Do not forget your place, manling.”
Droust bowed his head and raised his hands in supplication. “Of course not, lady. I spoke in error. I’m tired.” Despite the longevity of the scribe’s life, he still wearied as though made of normal flesh and blood. He’d almost forgotten what the sun looked like. Caelynna used others as go-betweens for the agents that served her on land.
“Your good fortune began when I needed someone who could teach me more of this world.” The Blue Lady’s eyes blazed. “That you had those two books was merely a blessing. And a curse. I should kill you for your inability to translate them.”
Droust quavered. “Lady, I can still be of help to you. If I can learn the code that Liou used for these books, I can translate the books. I only need someone to show me. And I will be loyal to you.” He had no choice. He wanted to live, and that shamed him most of all. Surely all of the Inner Sea would suffer the Blue Lady’s wrath and more if she was successful in bringing her war to this world.
“Where are the warriors now?”
“Still in the Pirate Isles, lady.”
“Contact them. Tell them to let this monk take his chances with the wizard and his books.”
“Lady, I knowknewthe man that wrote that book. He was a ship’s officer. He would have recorded where Grayling went down. You decided”Only after Droust had pointed it out to her”that exact knowledge of where the ship went down was dangerous. It’s better if everyone believes a storm took Grayling?
“I know that.” The Blue Lady drew herself up in haughty indignation. “But this book has served to draw this monk to us. We should not overlook the chance this provides.”
“If this man is as good as the Nine Golden Swords believe at avoiding traps, he could get the book.”
“Fine. Have them take it from him then. And while they’re at it, I expect them to capture this monk as well. Both tasks are equal. Perhaps if he is so skilled at stealing things, he might be skilled as stealing sense from locked words.”
“Yes, lady.” Droust turned back to the spelled crystal he used to contact the Nine Golden Swords the Blue Lady had employed.
“Keep me informed, manling.” The Blue Lady glanced up. “There is a ship sailing through my waters that I intend to bring down.” She showed him a cold, cruel smile. “Pray that it doesn’t harbor a scribe more cunning than you.”
Droust cursed himself for being a coward, but he prayed that she wouldn’t find someone to replace him. And he hoped that the monk died a swift death at Kouldar’s hands. That would be far more merciful than falling into the Blue Lady’s thrall.
CHAPTER THREE
'Are you awake?”
From half-closed lids, Shang-Li watched as his father reached for his nose. Shang-Li blocked the move and took a half-step back. He glanced at his father as they stood in the alley where the encounter had taken place only a handful of hours ago. “Don’t do that. I’m awake.”
“You shouldn’t have slept back in our room. You should have stayed awake and prepared. Now you’re all befuddled. You move like you’re older than I.”
Shang-Li gestured to the small bag and the katana over his shoulder. “I was already prepared. And I needed sleep. Not all of us got to wash vegetables at the Blinding Onion. Some of us had to lift heavy trays of food and wash dishes.”
His father waved the complaint away. “You complain far too much. Work is good for you. You could have studied. I brought books to read.”
“I’ve read the books you brought”
“They’re good books. I’ve read them before too. They’re worth re-reading.”
Before he could stop himself, Shang-Li sighed.
“Don’t be insolent.” His father slapped the back of Shang-Li’s head. Shang-Li moved farther away.
His father stared up at the wizard’s tower jutting up over the next building. The structure bent and twisted, and it gave the impression of a coiled snake. People in the city called it the Serpent’s Tower. If he hadn’t known, Shang-Li would have guessed that that the tower had been designed and built by dwarves deep into their cups.
Magic lurks in the mortar of Serpent’s Tower, Brianthom the Traveler had written in his history of the Pirate Isle one of the books Kwan Yung had insisted Shang-Li read again. No one knows what secrets the edifice contains. If any thief has ever chosen to brave the tower’s magical defenses, none has ever escaped with the tale. The Wizard Kouldar entertains only a few guests, and those seldom. None of them have ever seen the entire interior of the Serpent’s Tower.
As he looked up at the tower corkscrewing toward the dark night sky, Shang-Li admitted to himself that he was more nervous than he’d expected. He’d broken into the lairs of wizards on other occasions. He’d gotten away with his life. Usually someone that crossed a wizard and got caught didn’t get the chance to learn from his mistakes.
“Stop fidgeting.” His father stood placidly, as if they were planning to go for a walk instead of invading a wizard’s stronghold.
Shang-Li adjusted the pack over his shoulder and didn’t look at his father. “Mentally preparing myself.”
“Do you think you will be finished sometime before the dawn?”
Shang-Li frowned at his father. He wished he knew what to say. Usually when he took risks like this, his father wasn’t around. He’d thought of leaving a letter telling his father his innermost thoughts, not to blame himself for whatever happened, and that he cared for him.
The thought of telling Kwan Yung that in person was just too awkward.
“I told the others that you could do this,” his father said.
For a moment, a flicker of pride sparked inside Shang-Li.
“So do not embarrass me.”
Shang-Li thought about telling his father that if anything went wrong he’d be too dead to worry about embarrassing anyone. But he didn’t. He nodded and smiled. “I won’t.”
Then he shot across the alley, caught the edge of the low roof, and flipped himself up onto it with a lithe move. On top of the building, he lay prone and reached for Moonwhisper’s senses.
The owl sat on the rooftop of a tall lighthouse that commanded a view of the town. Through the owl’s eyes, Shang-Li saw himself lying on the building’s rooftop, the river to the left of the Serpent’s Tower, and the crooked edifice that earned the building its name.
