weeks.'
Lady Feng let her shoulders slump. 'As you wish, then.'
She crooked a finger at Tombor, then turned toward a small coffer of polished mahogany sitting on the near side of the island. The Third Virtuous Concubine kneeled on a small ingot terrace before the chest, then had Tombor place the cask he had brought beside it. She opened the chest and removed several bundles carefully wrapped in waxed silk.
A painful lump formed in the pit of Tang's stomach.
The Third Virtuous Concubine had already prepared the other ingredients; it would take her only a few moments to mix the potion and cast the enchantment that would forever unite Yanseldara's spirit with Cypress. The prince crawled forward, struggling to think of some way short of matricide to stop his mother from finishing her spell.
Cypress climbed onto the far shore and stretched his neck over the summit of the little island, cocking his hideous head so that one empty eye socket hung directly above the Third Virtuous Concubine. Lady Feng had Tombor remove the top of the oil cask; then she suddenly drew back and wrinkled her nose.
'Is something wrong?' Cypress demanded.
'Only horrible smell.' Lady Feng took a deep breath, then leaned forward to peer into the cask.
Tang stopped a pace short of the mouth of the passage.
He could go no farther without exposing himself to the dragon's view-if he had not already-and still he did not know how to stop his mother. He was surprised to realize that failure mattered to him greatly, and not only because he wanted to impress Lady Ruha by saving Yanseldara.
To a great extent, his weakness was responsible for the peril of both the Ruling Lady and his mother; unless he set matters right, he would always be the same cowardly, foolish prince he had been before entering the swamp.
Lady Feng pulled back from the cask and carefully unwrapped one other silken bundles. Tang saw that he had a clear angle to the little keg. He wished for a cross- bow so he could pierce the side-and at last one desperate idea occurred to him. The prince retreated into the pas- sage and found a smooth, fist-sized rock. He tore the lapel off his fighting tunic, then fit the stone into the middle of it and stepped into the mouth of the tunnel. The passage was too small for a circular windup, so he simply cocked his arm back and hoped a simple whip-stroke would be powerful enough to span the distance.
Cypress's head instantly swiveled in Tang's direction, and the prince knew he did not have time to wait for his mother to move away from the ylang oil. He fixed his aim on the plump figure of Tombor the Jolly, who was standing on the hill above the cask, and snapped his arm forward.
The rock arced over the lake as fast as a shooting star.
The shot was not a particularly difficult one, and it appeared the stone would strike its target square in the chest-not enough to kill the husky man, but certain to knock him from his feet and send him tumbling down the slope to spill the ylang oil.
Then, as the rock reached the shore of the ingot island, Cypress lowered his head. The stone bounced off the dragon's skull and splashed into the water. Lady Feng spun around, her gaze instantly rising to the passage where Tang now stood trembling, not so much in fear as in frustration. The dragon turned his head slightly and brought both eye sockets to bear on the prince.
'It seems your son has found his courage, Lady Feng.'
'He finds courage, but he is still foolish boy.' The Third Virtuous Concubine waved her fingers at Tang, urging him to retreat deeper into his passage. 'Mighty dragon has nothing to fear from him.'
'He killed my wyverns.' Cypress started to circle the island. 'And he was trying to spill the ylang oil.'
Tang backed deeper into the passage, more because his mother had urged him to than because he imagined it would save him from the dragon. There was no hope now of stopping the spell, and he felt like a hopeless failure.
He still feared death, of course, but only marginally more than he feared thinking of himself as a bumbling fool for the rest of his life.
By the time Cypress rounded the island, Tang could see little more than the dragon's dull scales growing larger and darker as they neared the tunnel mouth. He reached the triple fork where he had stopped before and glanced up each branch. Two of the passages vanished into inky blackness, but one, the smallest, curved back toward the lake. There was a pale yellow glow at the far end, suggesting it actually connected with the vast treasure chamber.
'Cypress, stop!' Lady Feng's voice was so muffled Tang could barely hear it. 'If you love Yanseldara, you spare boy's life.'
The dragon pivoted to look down at the island, allowing Tang a clear view of his mother. Lady Feng had grabbed the lip of the open oil cask and tipped it forward.
The contents were dangerously close to spilling.
'Pour it out, Wise Mother!' Tang yelled. 'Life and death are same; I fear only dishonor!'
The Third Virtuous Concubine frowned in the direc- tion of Tang's voice. 'Then you are fool, Impertinent Son.
You know nothing of life and death. If you do not under- stand that, you understand nothing at all!'
'What?' Tang gasped. If there was one thing his mother believed, it was that life and death were the same.
Lady Feng tipped the cask forward until the contents began to trickle down the side. Tombor the Jolly stooped over to reach for the other side of the cask, then found himself staring at a scorpion knife the Third Virtuous Concubine had produced from her sleeve pocket. The cleric withdrew his hand, and Lady Feng fixed her gaze on Cypress.
'Do you wish to have Yanseldara?' She tipped the cask forward even farther, and the trickle of oil became a steady stream. 'Or not?'
'Very well. I am in a generous mood.' Cypress waved Tombor away from the cask, then stepped away from Tang's passage. 'I absolve the prince of his transgressions.'
Tang did not believe the dragon for a moment, and knew that his mother would not either. Like any tyrant, Cypress could not forgive a rebellion against his author- ity. Once Lady Feng cast her spell, he would take his ven- geance. So why was the Third Virtuous Concubine pretending to believe him? And why had she called the prince ignorant for quoting her?
She had tipped the cask. The Third Virtuous Concubine was trying to tell him something about the oil.
When Cypress turned his attention back to Lady Feng's preparations. Tang began to collect the largest stones he could find, piling them inside the small pas- sage that curved back toward the lake. As soon as the prince judged he had enough to suit his purpose, he removed his clothes. He laid his battle tunic on the far side of the tunnel, arranging it over a boulder so that it would look as if he were crouching on the floor, with his back to the treasure chamber.
Lady Feng closed her mahogany coffer, and Tang knew she was getting ready to cast the spell. He laid down on his belly and crawled backward into the smallest pas- sage, dragging his undertunic, trousers, and sword belt after him. The tunnel was so low that he could feel his back touching the ceiling. The prince began to stack the stones he gathered, scraping his elbows raw as he strug- gled to move in the cramped confines. The little bit of dim light vanished entirely, and he had to work in the dark, trying to feel the shapes of the rocks so he could fit them into the available spaces as tightly as possible.
His wall had nearly reached the ceiling when Tang heard his mother's muffled voice mumbling a command
Though he could not understand her words, he suspected she was calling for Yanseldara's staff. In his mind's eye, the prince saw her accept the pole from Tombor-would the traitor's hands be trembling at the magnitude of his crime? — and dip the butt into the ylang potion.
As though on cue, the Third Virtuous Concubine's voice began muttering the indiscernible syllables of her spell. Tang fed his undertunic through the narrow gap at the top of his little wall, stopping when he judged the tail would be touching the floor. He worked carefully, for he had plenty of time. It would take a few moments for the potion to work its magic, and, even then. Cypress would be in no hurry. The dragon would want to rejoice in his triumph and be certain the enchantment had worked before betraying his word.
