Free The Veiled Dragon by Troy Denning Page B

Cypress was using what the Shou called the Invisible Art, an ancient discipline whose practitioners employed nothing but the power of their own minds to perform supernatural acts. Tang had heard that his unwelcome guest was a master of the venerable art, but until now, he had been lucky enough to avoid a demonstration. Tang’s guards arrived at the park entrance and began to hammer on the gates, but they could not break through with anything short of a battering ram. Both portals were reinforced with heavy bands of steel, while the lock itself was the sturdiest Shou smiths could make. The sentries could not even scale the wall, as it was capped with a double crest of barbed spikes. Cypress slunk off the bench, allowing Tang to glimpse a deep, white-fleshed gash that ran the entire length of
    the monitor’s belly. The beast trundled across the plaza on four stubby legs, then stopped next to the prince’s knee and rolled its lifeless gaze over his maitung. Given that we have not seen you in so long, I find this altogether pretentious, The lizard’s tongue darted out to snap at Tang’s maitung, which was tailored with overlapping brown patches resembling the spade-shaped scales of an armored skink. How long has it been since you attended Lair? “You know I resign.” Cypress slipped behind his captive and lashed out with the monitor’s huge tail, catching Tang behind the knees and hurling him face first to the plaza. The prince’s nose and mouth erupted in stinging pain, and he felt the unaccustomed sensation of warm blood spilling from his nostrils. He tried to rise and found himself pinned to the ground, his entire body now as heavy as only his feet had been a moment earlier. He screamed, more in rage than anguish, and wished that he had a sword in his hand—and the strength to raise it. The hammering at the gates ceased, then a sharp boom reverberated across the plaza as several armored bodies slammed into the portals. The thick planks creaked, but the lock did not give way. Cypress circled around in front of the prince, barely glancing toward the gates.
    have told you, no one resigns from the Cult of the Dragon! The monitor took Tang’s hand in its mouth. The prince cringed, fearing he would soon have a bloody stump at the end of his wrist, but the powerful jaws did not close. Instead, the beast’s agile tongue rolled over Tang’s fingers, removing his golden rings. After doing the same with the other hand, the dead lizard dropped to its belly and stared the prince in the eye. thank you for the offering. Now, where is my ylang oil? “Where is Lady Feng?” Tang groaned. “You have oilp>
    when I have mother.” A red ember sparked deep within the lizard’s eye, then the beast dragged one huge claw across the prince’s face. “You dare scratch me?” Tang squawked, astonished that even a spiteful creature like Cypress would mark a person of Imperial Shou blood. He spat on the beast’s snout, then added, “For that, you die thousand deaths!” The monitor’s gaping jaws opened as though to chomp Tang’s head off; then the beast tipped its head sideways and did not bite. I think I shall! A deep, rumbling laugh—more like a cough—rolled up from someplace deep in the monitor’s hollow stomach, and Cypress laid one of the lizard’s heavy claws on the prince’s shoulder. I shall die a thousand deaths—a thousand deaths at
    least! Cypress removed the foot from Tang’s shoulder and backed away, still chuckling. The prince found that his body no longer seemed quite so heavy. He gathered him self up and stood, one hand pinching his bloody nose. Another boom echoed across the plaza. The monitor’s head turned so that it could watch the arch with one drab eye and Tang with the other. Lady Feng informs me that only you know how to press the ylang blossoms, so I will spare your life—but I am losing patience. If I do not have the oil by tomorrow, I shall start returning your mother in parts. “What you ask is