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 him self to having all his questions answered by the princess, turned directly to Wei Dao.
'It is most indecorous to have Emperor's consort wan- dering about outside her palace, especially in land of bar- barians.' 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 adju- tant was watching Wei Dao from the comers 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.
'Barbarians have strange customs.' Tang knew that his response was a feeble one, but he needed time to think of something better. 'Vaerana Hawklyn does not trust after- world magic and accuses us of causing her queen's illness.'
'Have we?'
Tang tried to swallow and found that he could not.
'Why do you think that, Minister?'
The minister splayed his fingers, then began to tick off the names of poisonous plants that had been hidden in the Ginger Lady's cargo. 'Oleander… lantana… castor bean… pink pea… Shou berry.' He reached his little finger and stopped. 'Need I go on?'
Prince Tang shook his head. 'We only sell poisons, not use them. Yanseldara's condition is not our fault.'
Hsieh lowered his hand. 'You know I do not care if it is, as long as your reason is good. But if you are lying-'
'Never!' Both Tang and his wife spoke at once.
Hsieh raised a cautionary finger and continued, 'If you lie to protect Lady Feng, I have no mercy.'
Tang's head began to spin. 'To protect Lady Feng?' he asked, truly confused. 'How does lying-'
'We do not lie.' Wei Dao stepped around the table to her husband's side. 'We send a company of guards to inform Lady Feng of your arrival. Perhaps you wish to send Yu Po along?'
Hsieh considered the offer, then shook his head. 'That is not necessary. If there is anything I should know, it is certain to come to light.'
The mandarin rose and honored them with a shallow bow, then led Yu Po and his guards from the room. As soon as their steps faded from the corridor outside, Tang sent the servants away.
'Why do you lie to mandarin?' he demanded, turning to his wife. 'You dishonor ancestors and condemn us to Chamber of Agonizing Death!'
'Only if Minister Hsieh discovers abduction of ven- erable mother.'
'How can he fail?' Tang's legs were trembling. It made him feel ashamed and weak. 'Any servant tells esteemed mandarin everything he wants to know.'
'True, but Minister Hsieh is sure to ask wrong ques- tions,' Wei Dao replied calmly. 'He thinks venerable mother has lover, and any servant he asks certainly tells him that is nonsense.'
The princess's reassurance did little to bolster Tang's courage. 'But how do guards bring Lady Feng home from
Moonstorm House? Cypress has mother, not Vaerana
Hawklyn!'
'Yes, but now we have fresh ylang blossoms.' Wei Dao grabbed her husband by the wrist and started toward the back of the palace. 'Now come. We have no more time for your cowardice-or your foolishness.'
Inside the cargo box, the thick stench of ylang blossoms did more to muffle the unexpected shriek than the canvas tarp-or so it seemed to Ruha. The first screech was instantly followed by more cries from all corners of the cavernous spicehouse, and then came a brief stam- pede of drumming boots. Wisps of another smell, rancid and even more cloying than ylang oil, drifted through the gaps between the wagon's sideboards. After that, the cav- ernous spicehouse fell silent, leaving the witch to wonder if, after untold hours of stillness, she dared uncurl herself and peek outside.
Ruha decided to wait; ten heartbeats, twenty, thirty.
She had thought it would be a simple thing to stow away until the wagon was inside the palace, then slip out from beneath the tarp when it was parked to await unloading.
But the Shou had driven the witch's wagon and several others into the shady coolness of the spicehouse and left them there, then began to unpack the vehicles parked outside in the hot sun. Until now, the patter of feet pass- ing by her hiding place had been so steady that she had hardly dared to breathe, much less poke her head out from beneath the tarp.
Ruha's count reached a hundred. She slowly uncurled herself, taking a moment to stretch her stiff muscles in case she suddenly had to run or fight, then half-swam through the dried blossoms to the back corner of the wagon. In the inky darkness beneath the tarp, her sun spell had grown weak and expired some time ago, leaving her as visible as any workman. She used the tip of her jambiya to lift the tarp, then raised her head high enough to peer over the tail boards.
A gasp of surprise rose into her throat and escaped, half-strangled, from her mouth. Less than five paces away sat a small black dragon. Save that it was no larger than a cargo wagon, the creature was identical to Cypress, with the same dull scales, splintered horns, and sinister voids where his eyes should have been. The foul odor she had smelled earlier seemed to be coming from the carcass, and now the witch thought she could identify the stench: rotten fish.
Ruha dropped back into the wagon and tried not to choke on her own heart, which had somehow climbed high into her throat. When the creature did not immedi- ately come tearing through the tarp, the witch dared to hope it had not seen her and frantically tried to think of some reason that did not involve her that it might be waiting outside her wagon. She failed, rather quickly, and started to consider what she might do about the situation.
Come out, my dear. Though the voice reverberated through Ruha's head without passing through her ears, it sounded as raspy and chilling as the first time she had heard it. You have no idea how I have been looking for- ward to our second meeting.
Ruha knew then that someone had betrayed her, but who: Vaerana or Fowler? The thought was ludicrous.
They both had more reason than she to hate Cypress, yet who else could have known where she was hiding? Any
The VeUed Dragon one they would have trusted with the secret. In Vaer- ana's case, at least, that circle was
