Free The Veiled Dragon by Troy Denning Page A

prince did not fault the guards for their inadequacy. Even the most devoted sentries could not capture intruders they could not see or hear, or find trespassers who left no tracks. Such tasks required a wu-jen. Unfortunately, the Minister of Magic was currently at odds with Tang’s own sponsor, Mandarin Hsieh Han Liu, the Imperial Minister of Spices. Consequently, the Emperor’s wu-jens were considered too valuable to waste on an inconsequential embassy like the Ginger Palace. Such political frustrations were a daily part of the prince’s life, and one of the many reasons he preferred the company of lizards to that of men. Tang waited until the last guard had stepped aside, then took his key from the redlacquered gates and stepped through the Arch ofMany-Hued Scales. When he turned to close the gates, he glimpsed his guards glumly marching toward the Five Color Bridge and decided it
    would not do to have them brooding over their failure. They were an elite company, and an elite company without honor was nothing. “One thing more, my soldiers,” he called. “You must double lashes for any man who fails to draw blood with each whip stroke.” The guards bowed in acknowledgment, and Yuan could barely keep from smiling. “Yes, Mighty Prince.” Tang closed the gate and put the key in his sleeve pocket, leaving the lock unlatched in case the mysterious vandal returned. He fetched a small shovel, a linen sack, and a copper bucket from a tool shanty near the jungle quarter, then took a deep breath and went to the first mound of flies. As he slid the shovel beneath the droning heap, the insects rose into the air, revealing a pile of rancid lizard viscera. Fighting his gorge back, he scooped up the entrails and placed them in the sack, then filled his bucket from the swamp and washed the stones. The work was humiliating for a prince, of course, but Tang preferred doing it himself to having the serenity of his garden disturbed by servants. He cleaned up the other mounds of viscera, then placed the bulging sack by the gate. The entrails had obviously come from the belly of his dead monitor, for none of the other lizards were large enough to hold so many intestines. What the prince did not understand was how the intruder had known itwas his favorite pet, a rare beast captured in the distant land of Chult. Only his personal staff knew how dearly he had paid for the creature, and they would no sooner betray him than his guards would. Tang returned his tools to the shanty, then went over to the dead monitor. He waved aside a cloud of flies and grabbed the beast by its rear legs. The beast jerked its feet from the prince’s grasp. Tang cried out and stepped away, his gaze dropping to the black stains that covered the bench and the stones beneath it. The stuff looked like dried blood, and the rancid, coppery smell certainly suggested appearances were
    correct. He did not see how the monitor could have lost so much blood and lived. The great lizard raised its head, fixing a dull-eyed gaze on the prince’s face. “Guards!” Tang stumbled backward toward the gate. “Yuan! Come quickly!” The monitor glanced at the gate, and Tang heard the sharp double click of the heavy lock-bolt sliding into its catch. He fished the key from his sleeve pocket and continued to retreat, fighting down his growing panic and trying to decide whether he dared turn his back to make a dash for the gate. Tang, you cannot flee me. Tang heard the voice not with his ears, but inside his mind. It was raspy and rumbling, and even if it had come from the monitor’s mouth, it would have been much too resonant for a lacertilian throat. That much, you should remember. “Cy-Cypress?” The monitor nodded, and Tang’s feet suddenly felt as heavy as boulders. At first, the prince thought the lizard had cast a spell on him, but he quickly realized that was impossible. The beast had uttered no mystic syllables, nor made any arcane gestures with its claws. Instead,