Snake (15 page)

Seh shook his head and followed, grateful that he didn't hear Fu list Greasy Goose.

T
he road to Kaifeng made for easy travel. Seh didn't have to dodge thorns or tree limbs or sinkholes. He didn't even have to check for landmarks or continuously watch the treetops for the white monkey. All he had to do was follow the road. It was incredibly boring.

After walking the entire day they had only passed a handful of travelers, all of whom were headed in the opposite direction. None offered a greeting.

The trail they had started out on had grown to an actual road wide enough for four people to walk side by side. Ruts were worn into the center, where carts of various sizes had passed, making for uneven footing. Seh wondered how Sanfu and Malao were managing with their injured legs.

The plan was for Seh and Fu to find a place to eat and rest, but so far, the few ramshackle places they'd had seen had all given Seh a bad feeling. Even the snake on his arm had seemed leery of them, so he hadn't bothered to enter any. Another one was coming into view, and the pit of Seh's stomach began to tingle. Seh shook his head. More bad feelings.

“What about this one?” Fu asked.

“I don't think so,” Seh said. He looked at the freshly painted sign, its gold characters shimmering in the late-evening sun. The Divine Dumpling Restaurant & Inn.

“What's wrong this time?” Fu snapped.

“It's a little
too
inviting.”

Fu rolled his eyes. “It's getting late, and I'm starving. We're going in.” He pushed his way past Seh and barged through the ornate wooden door.

Seh glanced around. Something didn't feel right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Against his better judgment, he followed Fu inside. The restaurant's interior didn't make him feel any better. It was even more inviting than the exterior. It was small but elegant. Five delicate tables were covered with fine cloth and surrounded by ornate chairs. The dark wood walls and floor were spotless. The entire place felt sterile. There were no customers.

Fu was already sitting at a table, his feet resting on an empty chair. “What do you think? I sure know how to pick them, don't I?”

“I don't like it,” Seh replied.

“Whatever,” Fu said, glancing at the menu board. “House Special Dumplings. Yummm. I wonder if they'll have meat in them—”

“What kind of question is that?” interrupted a shaky, high-pitched voice. “Of course they have meat! Unlike any you've ever tasted—guaranteed.”

A frail old woman stepped out from behind a red curtain at the back of the restaurant and headed for Fu.

“How are they prepared?” Fu asked.

“In a delectable chicken broth,” the woman replied.

Fu grinned.

“How much do they cost?” Seh asked.

The old woman stopped next to Fu and bit her lower lip. She glanced at their tattered robes. “Well, normally, we charge an arm and a leg. Our House Special Dumplings really are quite special. We use a secret ingredient that gives them a full-bodied flavor.” She poked Fu in the stomach. “However, you, dear boy, look famished, and you appear to be a true lover of food. I'll tell you what—I'll give you a discount. Half price. What do you say?”

“It's a deal!” Fu said.

“Hold on,” Seh said. “We don't even know what the full price is. Stop thinking with your stomach.”

Fu untied the pouch of coins from his sash and dumped them on the table. “Is this enough?”

The old woman smiled. “More than enough.”

“Two more people will be joining us,” Seh said. “And we will all need one night's lodging as well.”

“We have plenty of space,” the old woman replied. “We can talk about the cost of the rooms and meals after your friends arrive. I'm sure I can give them a discount, too. When do you expect them?”

“We're not exactly sure,” Fu said.

The woman's thin white eyebrows rose. “Oh? Do they know to meet you here?”

Fu looked at Seh. “I didn't even think of that.”

Seh shook his head.

“I'll tell you what,” the old woman said. “I'll take a chair and sit out front while you eat. Tell me what they look like and I'll call them over. Okay?”

“Thanks!” Fu said.

The old woman smiled. “I'll get your food first. Two bowls of House Special Dumplings coming right up!”

“Excuse me,” Seh said. “If you don't mind, I'd prefer a bowl of vegetable soup or something similar. I don't eat meat.”

“Of course,” the old woman said. She disappeared behind the curtain.

Fu sat back in his chair and sighed. “Ah, this is the life. I like this place.”

“Well, I don't,” Seh said. “I sense somebody else in the back.” He stood and stepped away from the table.

“Where are you going?” Fu said. “That's probably just the cook.”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down. I want to take a look around.” Seh was casually stepping toward the red curtain when the old woman burst through it, carrying two large, steaming bowls.

“Going somewhere?” the old woman asked Seh with a smile.

“I was just… stretching my legs.”

“Please sit down,” the old woman said. “Your soup tastes best when it's hot.” She looked at Fu. “The same is true for your dumplings, dear. Eat up! I'll be back in a few moments to help find your friends.” She disappeared behind the curtain again.

“That was strange,” Seh said as he sat down. “The food came so fast.”

“You're strange,” Fu replied. “Stop analyzing everything and eat.” Fu grabbed a pair of chopsticks and a spoon and dove into his dumplings.

“Whoa!” said Fu. “These are the best dumplings I've ever tasted! The broth is really good, too. How's your soup?”

“I haven't even touched my spoon yet,” Seh said. He picked it up and began pushing around the pieces of pickled cabbage and leeks inside his bowl. The pit of his stomach tingled.

“You don't know what you're missing,” Fu said. “This is absolutely delici—” He stopped in mid-sentence, and his face went sour. Fu fished around inside his mouth with two fingers and pulled out a long black hair. He wiped it on the table and went back to eating.

Seh frowned. “Was that inside a dumpling?”

Fu nodded.

“And you're going to keep eating them?”

“Sure,” Fu mumbled between mouthfuls. “It's only a hair.”

Seh shook his head and stared at the piece of hair. “Interesting. That hair is long and black, but the innkeeper's hair is gray.”

“It probably belongs to that cook you sense,” Fu said. “Stop being so—” He set his chopsticks down and gripped the edge of the table with both hands.

“What's wrong?” Seh asked.

“All of a sudden, I feel… strange …,” Fu said. “I—” Fu's eyes rolled back, and his head slumped forward.

“Fu?” Seh whispered.

Fu was out cold.

I knew something was wrong,
Seh thought.
The dumplings were drugged. I'm sure my soup has been drugged, too. What is that woman up to?

Seh decided to play along. He quickly spooned some of his soup into Fu's bowl so that it would look like he'd eaten some. Then he narrowed his eyes to slits, let his head flop to one side, and slowed his breathing.

A few moments later, Seh saw the old woman appear from behind the curtain with an equally frail old man at her side. The woman held a gigantic cleaver. The old man held a large meat hook in one hand and two coils of rope in the other.

The old man looked at Fu and whistled. “Get a load of that mountain of flesh! The heavens are smiling on us today. He'll stuff enough dumplings to feed an army. Not much meat on the other one, though.”

“Free meat is free meat,” the old woman said. “I'll
take whatever I can get. You should be able to salvage at least a couple of fillets from the skinny one.”

“What about their friends?” the old man asked.

“They said their friends don't even know they're in here. If the others are as scruffy as these two, they'll never think to look inside an establishment as fine as ours. And if they do show up, we'll add them to the menu, too.” The old woman cackled. “Let's get to work.”

Y
ing stood before the gates of the Emperor's summer palace, preparing for the accolades that were sure to be the reason behind his special invitation. He had destroyed Cangzhen and taken the bandits’ stronghold. It was time to celebrate.

This was, after all, a place for relaxation. Business was for the main palace in the Forbidden City, hundreds of
li
to the north. Ying was ready for a party— in his honor.

Ten thousand things ran through Ying's mind. First and foremost was,
What's taking this fool guard so long to open the gates?

When the gates eventually opened, Ying rushed in, eager to greet the Emperor. However, after two steps,
he stopped, frozen in his tracks. Ying found himself at the far end of what had to be the most magnificent courtyard in all of China.

Thousand-year-old cypress trees stood alongside ankle-high flowers only hours old. Elaborately designed pagodas wrapped themselves seamlessly around natural rock formations that were shaped like Chinese characters. Peacocks roamed freely along the footpaths, and songbirds filled the trees. The centerpiece was a massive man-made lake in the shape of a lotus flower.

Ying had heard rumors that the Emperor had squandered untold fortunes to create this sanctuary for himself and his closest advisors and that it was the most beautiful place beneath the heavens. Until that moment, Ying had dismissed the rumors. However, he now believed every word. He was standing at the edge of it, and
he
had been invited.

Ying closed his eyes and took a deep breath, soaking it all in. Instead of feeling peaceful, though, he sensed someone focusing on him from the lake. Ying opened his eyes and squinted in the bright afternoon sunshine reflecting off the lake's surface. He saw the silhouette of a lean man in an orange robe.

“What are you waiting for?” the man by the lake purred. “I don't have all day.”

Ying scowled. It was General Tsung, the leopard-style kung fu master and former Shaolin monk who had successfully destroyed Shaolin Temple—and almost choked Ying to death.

“What are you doing here, Spot?” Ying asked as he walked along the path beside the lake toward Tsung. Tsung's orange monk's robe flapped in the breeze.

“I suggest you reconsider the manner in which you address me,” Tsung said. “I outrank you, and we both know I'm the superior fighter. One more comment like that and I'll have your head.” He turned and began walking toward an enormous building on the far side of the lake. “Follow me.”

Ying bit his lip. There was no point in making a scene in front of the Emperor. At least, Ying assumed the Emperor was nearby. “Where is everyone?” he asked.

“There are soldiers stationed at regular intervals along the compound walls,” Tsung replied. “You can't see the men or the walls because the Emperor went to great expense to ensure everything was hidden from view with evergreen foliage.”

“I mean, the Emperor and his other guests,” Ying said.

Tsung raised one bushy eyebrow. “There is only one guest. A judge. He and the Emperor are waiting inside the palace for you. There is a special chamber designed specifically for situations like yours.”

Ying grinned.
A special chamber,
he thought.
And a judge. This must be something significant.

They reached the palace, and Ying followed Tsung through a maze of elaborately furnished halls. When they reached a door at the end of a long hall, Tsung turned to Ying. “Give me your weapons.”

Ying hesitated.

“You will not be allowed inside otherwise.” Tsung's jaw muscles rippled.

Ying shook his right wrist, and his chain whip slipped out of a special pocket in his oversized sleeve. He frowned and reluctantly handed it over. The grooves in his face deepened.

“This way,” Tsung said, opening the door.

Ying entered and glanced around as Tsung bolted the door behind them. The room was surprisingly large. It was two levels high, the higher one being a balcony. That's where the Emperor stood in his brilliant yellow silk robe and large yellow silk hat. A second man stood on ground level wearing a black robe and small black judge's hat. Around the perimeter of the first floor were close to a hundred soldiers, each armed with a
qiang.