The Veiled Dragon (21 page)

disorient him or anyone else, yet Tang had been trying to locate Cypress’s hole for more than two hours. The punt rocked beneath the prince’s feet. He glanced back to see the commander of the palace garrison, General Fui D’hang, stepping into the dugout from a wagonsized raft of lashed logs. A squat, flatcheeked man with an unwavering scowl and granite eyes, he wore a helmet of silver-trimmed brass and an oversized battle tunic over leather armor. Most of the men behind him were dressed in a similar manner, save their helmets were steel with brass trim. The general bowed. “May it please the Prince to hear

me.” As with all Fui said, the statement was a command,

not a request. Prince Tang nodded, but looked away to emphasize that he would not allow the general to bully

him. “Night falls soon, and men are uneasy at being lost—” “Do I say we are lost?” Tang whirled on the general so fast that, had his boatpushers not had their poles planted on the bottom, the punt would have capsized. “We are not lost. Dragon uses Invisible Art to confuse honorable sol diers. They may eat another lasal leaf.” Fui did not turn to issue the command. “Since you are not lost, perhaps you guide us to dry land. It is better to camp outside swamp.” “No. We must rescue Lady Feng tonight.” The general’s eyes remained stony. “If we perish in dark—” “Tonight.” Fui’s Ups tightened. “Surely, Wise Prince knows it is inauspicious to attack eminent dragon at all, but to attack at night

” “This dragon is different!” snapped Tang. “Cypress does not have favor of Celestial Bureaucracy!” “Perhaps Wise Prince explains why it takes so long to reach dragon’s palace?” Fui insisted. “This swamp is size of peasant village. By now, we should find dragon’s home

through tenacity alone.” “It is question of patience, not ‘finding!’ ” Prince Tang turned away from General Fui, silently cursing the absence of a wu-jen. A little magic would go far toward helping him find his goal. “Tell men to be ready. Not far now!” Selecting a direction at random, the prince pointed down the fork on the right. General Fui barely had time to leap back to his own raft before Tang’s boatpushers guided the punt into the channel. As they traveled down the curving slough, the mosquito hum became a maddening drone. Though the Shou berry juice the prince had rubbed into his flesh protected him from bites, clouds of the insects dragged across his skin like chiffon. Tang began to sense an enormous, dark presence ahead. The canopy arched higher above the water, and the swamp grew steadily murkier and more forlorn. The beards of moss vanished from the branches alongside the passage, replaced by the curtainlike webs of brilliantly striped spiders with abdomens as large as a man’s fist. Ahead of the punt, dark chevrons appeared in the water as startled snakes swam for cover. The ends of submerged logs sprouted eyes and watched the flotilla pass. A half-remembered murmur echoed through the trees from somewhere ahead: the purl of water trickling down some steep slope. Tang felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach and beads of sweat sliding down his brow. He withdrew a handful oflasal leaves from a basket in the bottom of the dugout and distributed them among his boatpushers, then placed two into his own mouth and chewed. As the protective fog arose inside his head, he began to regard the impending battle with increasing giddiness. Soon, he would have vengeance on his enemy. After his men destroyed Cypress’s new body, he himself would find and smash the spirit gem. Then, when Yen-Wang-Yeh’s servants came to drag Cypress’s wayward spirit down to the Ten Courts of the Afterlife, Tang would recount all the

dragon’s crimes against himself and Shou Lung, thus insuring a stern verdict that would condemn his foe to ten thousand centuries of torment in the Eighteenth Hell. The rancid stench of rotting fish began to waft through the air. The channel widened into a broad basin of black water strewn with mats of bog scum and studded by the naked gray trunks of a bald cypress stand. On the far side of the pool, a steep, green-blanketed scarp rose abruptly from the murky water and disappeared above the swamp’s gloomy canopy. Down the face of this slope snaked a tiny ribbon of silver water, the same small brook casting its purl throughout the slough. To the left of the stream, barely visible through the whirling clouds of mosquitos, was a huge, half-submerged grotto, the moss curtain that dangled over its mouth tattered and frayed by the constant passage of some huge body. Tang ordered his boatpushers to stop. Though the area had been darker and more crowded on the two occasions the prince had visited it before, he recognized it instantly. Just outside the cavern lay a toppled cypress where the dragon roosted during Lair, with the entire cult arrayed before him upon the same rafts now occupied by General Fui and his men. Rising from the waters around the perch were heaps of large fish skeletons, some with bits of gray, gritty hide still clinging to the thick bones, and hanging in the limbs of nearby trees were hundreds of long-toothed jaws. Tang was most distressed to see that Cypress had already devoured so many sharks. From what the prince had learned during his brief association with the cult, when a dracolich’s body was destroyed, he lost the ability to speak, cast magic spells, and use his terrible breath weapon. Unfortunately, he could regain those capabilities by consuming a mere tenth of his previous body, which he could always locate via a strange mystical bond—even if the corpse had been burned, shredded, or eaten. Judging by the number of skeletons lying in the water, Cypress

could not be far from a full recovery. General Fui’s raft pulled alongside the punt, and Tang pointed at the cavern. “That is dragon’s palace.” The prince allowed himself the pleasure of a touch of sarcasm at the term ‘palace.’ “Men a^e ready?” The general glanced at the four rafts behind his, each bearing fifteen anxious warriors, and flashed a hand signal. A gentle clatter rustled over the pond as his men reached for their halberds and pushed lasal leaves into their mouths. Fui watched a moment, then slipped a leaf between his own lips and nodded. Tang drew his sword, then looked back to the cave and waited for General Fui to lead the soldiers forward Thanks to his lasal-induced daze, the prince realized he could actually see the murk gathering over the swamp. It looked like a thick, oily smoke seeping from the fetid depths of Cypress’s lair, where the dragon rested upon his bed of gold, dreaming ofYanseldara and filling the air with the dank gloom of his wicked obsession. The prince’s thoughts turned to his mother, and he found himself wondering what effect the unnatural murk would have on her. If the fumes darkened her fair skin, she would never forgive—most cursed lasal! That was the trouble with it; the user found it difficult to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, and he sometimes found his head filled with ridiculous ideas. Noting that Fui still had not given the order to advance, Prince Tang looked to his general. “Why do you wait?” He waved his sword at the cavern. “Go kill dragon!” Fui’s head slowly turned toward Tang’s punt. The general’s pupils were nearly as large as his irises, and a blank, almost muddled expression had fallen over his normally resolute face. “You do not lead us into cavern, Brave Prince?” “Me?” Tang looked at the sword in his hand and understood the reason for the general’s confusion. “I cannot lead way into danger. I am Prince!” “That is what I try to say in Ginger Palace.” Under the lasal’s influence, Fui spoke more freely than he would have otherwise. “Do I not suggest it is foolish for you to take field? Do I not hint that your inadequate preparations oblige men to take extra risks to protect you?” The lasal haze inside Tang’s mind began to darken and churn. “I am Prince! Soldiers die at my will!” “True, but Honorable Prince does not waste their lives!” the general spat. “If you desire Lady Pong’s rescue, you must stand aside and let someone who knows—” A chorus of snickers filled the air behind Fui. The general stopped speaking in midsentence, and his widening eyes betrayed his astonishment at the words coming from his mouth. He dropped to his knees and kowtowed on the raft, pressing his forehead down so close to the edge that his silver-trimmed helmet fell off and slipped beneath the inky waters. “Mighty Prince, I do not know these words! They are not my own!” Tang hardly heard the apology. The lasal clouds inside his mind had worked themselves into a storm, and he could think of nothing but his fury. “Words belong to him who speaks them.” Tang glanced at the rafts behind Fui, where more than seventy soldiers were studying the swamp’s gloomy canopy and biting their cheeks to keep from laughing. Bolts of lightning began to flash inside the prince’s head. “Lasal loosens tongue. It cannot change secret thoughts of any man.” “Merciful Prince, I command garrison of Ginger Palace since it is built, and before that I humbly serve in personal guard of Lady Feng. Please to allow me honor of dying in battle.” Fui lifted his head and dared to meet Tang’s eyes. “Let me lead soldiers into dragon’s palace.” “I myself lead way into lair.” Tang glared at his general until the last soldier no longer found it necessary to bite his cheeks; then he pronounced Fui’s sentence: “Shou general must respect master with heart as well as tongue, so that he does not forget himself and make men

laugh at Worthy Prince. To fail in this is treason.” Fui’s face went as stiff as a mask. He whispered a prayer, beseeching his ancestors to find a place for him in the Celestial Bureaucracy, then touched his brow to the log. “I am ready.” Tang looked past Fui to Yuan Ti, the moonfaced commander of the sentries who protected his lizard park. Since the young officer had already faced the dragon and lived, General Fui had selected him as second in command for this mission. Yuan swallowed and reached for his sword, but his hand began to tremble, and he did not draw the weapon. The youth clenched his teeth as though fighting a wave of nausea, and tears welled in his eyes. Tang scowled at the hesitation. “Why do you delay? Punish General Fui’s insolence!” Yuan managed to pull his sword halfway from its sheath, then turned away sobbing. The youth’s profile accentuated his flat cheeks, and it was then Tang realized the boy’s identity. The fury faded from the lasal induced storm inside the prince’s head, and the tempest became instead a drizzle that clouded his thoughts with cold, sick regret. It was not uncommon for Shou generals to make places for their sons in their own commands, but how was Tang to know the youth’s identity? A Shou prince did not trouble himself with the domestic lives of his inferiors. He could hardly be expected to know every son that his officers brought to the Ginger Palace. Tang allowed General Fui’s boy to weep, grateful for a few moments to struggle with this new dilemma. As much as he disliked the idea of ordering a son to slay hi? own father, he could hardly retract the command now. The men had already come close to treason when they laughed at him earlier; to tolerate any further insubordination would only convince them that he was a weak and inept leader. Yuan would have to obey the command. If there was another way to solve the problem, the prince could not see it through the lasal haze. In a gentle but loud voice. Tang said, “You are a Shou soldier. You must do as I order.” The youth choked back his sobs and turned to face Tang. “Merciful Prince, the lasal leaves—” General Fui raised his head. “Silence, Yuan!” His voice had assumed the hard edge of command. “Do not dishonor our ancestors by arguing with your Prince!” The general pressed his brow to the logs again. The thought flashed through Tang’s mind that there must be a way to show mercy without showing weakness, but it was chased into the lasal haze by a great cry from Yuan’s mouth. In a motion too fast to see, the youth unsheathed his sword and brought the blade down on his father’s neck. There was a wet crack, and Fui’s head toppled off the raft into the swamp. The general’s body shuddered once, then went limp and slipped out of its kowtow, slowly stretching forward to push its headless shoulders into the dark pool. Fui’s head rolled in the water, bringing his granite eyes around to stare vacantly upward. Tang’s stomach began to feel queasy, but he clenched his teeth against the feeling and forced himself not to look away. The whole point of the punishment had been to show his soldiers that he was a strong leader, and he would not accomplish that by allowing the gaze of a dead man to intimidate him. Yuan ripped the front off his silken battle tunic and used it to dab his father’s blood off the blade. When he finished, he sheathed his sword, then carefully folded the cloth and slipped it beneath his leather corselet. The adjutant bowed to Tang, his eyes now as hard as his father’s. “I obey your command. My Prince.” Tang honored the youth by returning his bow. “The Minister of War shall—” The prince had to interrupt himself to take a deep breath and regain control of his churning stomach. “He shall hear of your dedication to duty.” Yuan’s eyes showed no sign of softening, but they did shift away from the prince’s face toward the water, where

a dozen shapes were rapidly drifting toward General Fui’s body. At first. Tang took the forms for floating logs Then he noticed the eyes and nostrils protruding above the bog scum, and also the powerful tails snaking back and forth behind their bodies. The first beast slid between the prince’s dugout and Yuan’s raft. Silently, it took Fui’s head into its jaws and slid beneath the dark water, vanishing from sight almost before Tang realized he was looking at an alligator. Yuan reached down to pull the rest of his father’s body back onto the raft, then almost lost a hand as another of the monsters latched on to the corpse’s shoulder. The cadaver slid off the logs and disappeared beneath the surface in a quick swirl. A second creature, easily as long as Tang’s dugout, dove after the body-stealer, and the water erupted into a bloody, churning froth as the two animals tore the cadaver to pieces. Tang finally lost control of his rebellious stomach and turned away while it purged itself—then nearly lost his head as a pair of tooth-filled jaws rose from the water tr snap at his face. He slashed at it ineffectually with the sword in his hand, and his boatpushers stepped over to hold the thing at bay while he finished retching. Behind the prince sounded a startled scream, followed by a loud splash and the brief gurgle of a man’s voice. An astonished murmur rustled through the swamp;

then half the soldiers in the company cried out in fear The rippling siffle of halberds slashing water filled the air. Several men fell into the pond and shrieked as they were dragged beneath the surface. When Tang’s stomach finally finished with him, he wiped his mouth on a boatpusher’s sleeve, then turned to see his entire company of soldiers besieged by alligators. The men were standing back-to-back in the center of all five rafts, thrusting the tips of their long halberds at the throng of circling alligators—several of which looked longer than the vessels themselves. Many of the logs were smeared with blood, while the water was littered