The Age of Legend

XXX

Before science, before history, an era of magic existed in our world's dim past. Magic flowed freely, touching every aspect of the lives of men and women of the Name-giver races. It was an age of heroes, an age of fantastical deeds and mythical stories. It was the Age of Legend.

XXX

As the levels of magic rose, so did the dangers in the world. The rise of magic lured the Horrors from the depths of astral space—nightmarish creatures that devoured all life in their path. For four centuries, entire nations hid underground as the Horrors devastated their lands during the dark time that came to be called the Scourge.

A century ago, the people of Cathay emerged from their dragon lairs. Trolls, dwarfs, elves, orks, and humans live side by side with exotic races: the lizard-like t'skrang, the mystical storm children, and the earthen obsidimen. Fantastical creatures dwell once more in the forests and jungles. Arcane energies offer power to those willing to learn the ways of magic.

XXX

But instead of a new era of peace and prosperity, the Imperial Dynasty that had ruled over Cathay for millennia ended suddenly and without an heir, casting the shining Empire into civil war. Through noble deeds and sacrifice, the heroes of the world forge Cathay's future, arming themselves for their daunting task with powerful magical spells and treasures, while villains plot from the darkness.

This is the Age of Legend.

PROLOGUE

"This place smells of wet dog," Bik-Bik complained bitterly into Ping's ear. The Thief did his best to ignore him, focusing instead on the thin, silk rope he was steadily climbing down. "Do you hear me?" Bik-Bik went on, "What treasure could possibly be worth suffering this intolerable stench?"

"Would you be quiet?" Ping hissed, "Or are you trying to get his attention?" He paused, sliding down the length of the rope another yard. "You don't smell so great half the time yourself, you know."

Bik-Bik bristled. The small Cathayan ferret shifted on his shoulder before saying, "Would you hurry up? This is the longest anyone has ever taken to climb down a rope."

"Your constant whining isn't helping!"

"Oh don't try to blame me!" Bik-Bik shifted again.

"Would you sit still?" said Ping, irritably. It wasn't unusual for Bik-Bik to complain, though he normally didn't do so while they were trying to be quiet. He sensed that his ferret companion was trying to cover up his fear with irritability. He couldn't blame him; he looked down the shaft to the dim light far below, perhaps another thirty feet. The shaft was maybe four feet in diameter, the granite worn smooth. It was one of the many vents leading down into the lair of the giant-king Du Shu.

He had received the knowledge of the vents' locations from a trader in the city of Shong-Xai about a month back. The trader, a one-eyed dwarf, was standing on the side of the dirt road in the middle of the city, loudly proclaiming he had a map showing a secret way into the lair of Du Shu, where "priceless treasures are just waiting to be claimed by someone bold enough to retrieve them!" Intrigued, Ping deftly lifted the map from the clueless dwarf and headed to the nearest inn, where he gave it some serious attention. The map showed a location marked high in the Pillars of Heaven, a mountain range in northwestern Cathay. Bik-Bik was against the journey from the start.

"You do know that they call Du Shu the giant-king because he's a giant, don't you?" The ferret had asked while nibbling on a slice of tofu. Ping had ignored him, and the next day they were headed northwest in the back of a merchant's wagon.

The snow was deep, up high in the slopes, the air clear, crisp, and very cold. For a time Ping had his doubts about the veracity of the map. Bik-Bik's far from encouraging bickering did little to assuage his doubts. After hours of climbing, he finally sat down on a large, weathered boulder to catch his breath: and that's when he saw it—a thin wisp of steam rising above a scattering of maple trees. The shaft didn't take long to find after stepping through the tree line. Despite Bik-Bik's objections, he tied his rope securely to a large trunk and began the descent. But now that he was halfway down the shaft, he could feel fresh doubts gnawing at his mind. And Bik-Bik was right—the smell was terrible.

The bottom of the shaft opened into a wide chamber through the ceiling, which was easily thirty feet high. The chamber was constructed of simple granite blocks, the walls forty feet apart. It only took Ping a moment to recognize what it was—an enormous hallway, lit by torches as tall as men. The end of his rope dangled just beyond the opening, far above the cold stone floor below and twenty feet from either wall.

"Got any more great ideas?" the ferret asked. Ping ignored him. He slid deftly down to the end of the rope, hanging below the gap so he could get a look at the ceiling. As he had hoped, the seams between the large cut blocks were wide enough to possibly secure a finger hold. He began shifting his weight, and slowly the rope began swaying back and forth.

"I said great ideas! Great ideas!"

Ping let go of the rope with his left hand while Bik-Bik's terrified scream pierced his ear. Three of his fingers caught the seam, and for a moment he hung there, suspended far above the floor, his left hand gripping the stone precariously, his fingers in the seam with his thumb pressed hard against the ceiling for leverage; his right hand was a fist around the end of the taut rope. He took a deep breath, calming himself, summoning his Thief magic. He could feel his grip on the stone become more secure; the pressure on his fingers seemed to lessen.

"Don't you dare, don't you dare, don't you—!" Bik-Bik was saying when Ping let go of the rope. Like a monkey swinging from branch to branch, Ping reached with his right hand for the next seam. His hand, guided by magic, found it perfectly, and after taking just a brief moment to make sure his grip was secure, he swung again. He continued until he reached the wall, where he found a toehold. Allowing his legs to support his weight, he took a moment to smirk at Bik-Bik.

"Proud of yourself, are you?" Bik-Bik asked. "Well, I'm rather proud of what I left on your shoulder."

When he finally reached the bottom, Ping fell into a crouch, instinctively hugging the wall and clinging to the shadows. The hallway seemed even larger now that he was in it. The wide corridor stretched away from him in two directions; to his left, he saw that it ended at large, double doors. Doubting he would be physically able to pull them open, he opted to slink along the wall in the other direction, towards a flight of stairs that fell into darkness. Ping passed beneath another vent in the ceiling; he could see the sky—a blue dot in a circle of darkness. The vents, he assumed, were meant to keep fresh air circulating through this vast, underground palace. However, it wasn't doing a very good job. The air was humid—to the point of feeling moist—and terribly stale. It held a musky stench that, to Ping, smelled... lived in.

The flight of steps was wide and deep, with each step built nearly three feet tall. They led to a spacious circular room, warmly lit by a massive brazier that sat against the far wall. Lying on a pile of brightly colored silk cushions near that brazier was the giant-king Du Shu.

Ping had never seen a giant before. Du Shu was handsome, belying the stench. A long, braided beard fell down across his chest like strands of soft, black silk. His muscular chest rose slightly with each breath; his body was lean and hard, over which he wore a long silk tunic, dyed a deep red and etched in gold with designs of clouds and dragons. Over his tunic—across his trim waist—he wore a large belt studded with gems and rubies. On his brow he wore a golden circlet; a single sapphire sat in its center, casting light caught from the brazier. Ping could feel his hands tremble with excitement. Du Shu was nearly twenty feet tall, and his clothing—along with the gems that adorned them— was increased relatively in size as well. Ping's eyes crawled across the glittering gems, his mouth watering, until they fell upon a jewel encrusted dagger—though to Ping it was the size of a large saber—in a sheath on the giant's belt.

Bik-Bik followed his gaze. "You've got to be kidding me," he whispered. Ping was already sneaking across the cold stone floor, matching his footfalls with Du Shu's gentle snoring. The cushions were perhaps five or six feet in height, the hilt of the dagger/saber resting just above Ping's head. After rubbing his hands together and flexing his fingers, he reached gingerly out and grasped it firmly with both hands and pulled. What happened next nearly caused him to scream out in alarm.

The hilt shrank suddenly in his fists, the entire weapon reducing in size until it had the dimensions of a human-sized dagger. Ping, who had been pulling on an object that only a moment ago weighed much more than it did now, found himself flying backwards off his feet. He landed hard on his back, Bik-Bik flying off his shoulder and skittering across the floor like a furry little ball. Indignant, Bik-Bik picked himself up and gazed venomously at Ping, though the look was lost on the human Thief.

Ping was gazing at the dagger in his hands. "Magic," he thought to himself; only a magical dagger could form itself to its wielder. The blade was crafted from pure silver. Embedded along the smooth blade were flecks from a dark ruby, the edges so razor thin that when he tilted it in his hand, the fiery light ran along its length. The blade was so highly polished that when he gazed at it he could see his reflection grinning back at him.

Bik-Bik ran up to him. "If you don't mind," he said, "I think we should leave now." When Ping ignored him and looked back at the other gems adorning the giant-king, Bik-Bik bit his hand.

"Ow!" he yelped, looking to see if the ferret had drawn blood. "All right! You didn't have to bite me!" He stood, lifting Bik-Bik and placing him in the pouch he always hung around his shoulders. He slid the dagger into a separate pack. He made his way quietly back up the steps, listening carefully to the soft snores behind him. When he reached the mouth of the hallway he was thinking of his new dagger. Bik-Bik, whose furry little head was poking out of the flap of his pouch, gasped in sudden alarm. It took Ping a long moment to recognize what was before them. One of the doors at the far end of the hall now stood ajar, and standing in the center of the hallway, just below the vent from which they had entered, stood another giant. Younger in appearance and smooth of face, the giant was clearly one of Du Shu's sons. Towering perhaps fifteen feet, he held in his hand Ping's slender silk rope. He had apparently tugged on it, since dangling from one end was the maple tree he had tied it securely around, fresh earth still clinging to its roots.

Fascination freezing him in place, Ping watched as the giant grasped the tree in one hand and pulled on the rope with the other. The rope snapped as if it were dry, brittle twine. He let it fall to the floor. Ping's mind was racing. If he could somehow get to the vent, he might still be able to climb out, and the giant wouldn't be able to follow. He would just need to hide until the giant left the hallway, and then climb up...

And that's when Ping had the epiphany that it was best to hide first and then think of a plan, as the giant turned its massive head in their direction. Despite the giant's human appearance, the roar it let out sounded anything but. Ping could hear the soft snoring in the chamber behind him cease abruptly.

The giant charged, holding the tree high over his head like some sort of club. Still Ping stood his ground.

"What are you doing?!" yelled Bik-Bik, frantic. Ping widened his stance, waiting. When the giant reached him, it swung the tree down at his head. As the deadly arc began, Ping flung himself forward, rolling between his legs. He rose on the other side of the giant in a run, the floor shaking as the tree smashed into the spot where he had just been standing.

He sprinted down the hallway and through the open door. "There's got to be another way out of here!" he said, mostly to himself. He found himself in another large room, which was dominated by a long table in the center, surrounded by benches. The top of the table was roughly ten feet off the ground. It was covered in a scattering of dishes and cutlery. He saw a door on the far wall, but it was closed. A large fireplace was near it.

A fireplace! If he could get to it he could climb out to freedom.

The door behind him suddenly flew the rest of the way open, striking him from behind and sending him skidding across the floor. He rolled onto his back just in time to see the tree swinging down towards him again. He rolled out of the way just in time, the shockwave from the impact actually lifting him off the ground. He landed on his feet and ran toward the fireplace. With a few great strides, the giant was able to overtake him, cutting him off. Ping's Thief magic warned him of the blow that was coming. He threw himself to the side just as the tree came crashing down. He picked himself up and ran.

The giant chased after him, madly swinging the tree. Dodging blow after blow, Ping somehow found himself in the center of the room. He ducked a wild swing and grabbed a branch as it passed overhead. He was lifted high off his feet. Legs dangling, he held on tightly as the giant swung the tree wildly back and forth, madly trying to shake him off. Ping let go just as the table passed beneath him, falling into a crouch and dashing for the far end. But in two great strides the giant was there, looming before him. He turned and ran for the other end, but again the giant bound across the room to cut him off.

He needed to get to the fireplace. Timing it just right, he made a dash across the surface. The giant, fed up with this game, smashed the other end of the table with his makeshift club. The wood lifted beneath his feet, catapulting him across the room. He hit a wall, hard, landing in a daze, his breath abandoning him. He felt himself being scooped up, and the next thing he knew he was staring at the grinning face of the giant, who held him up like one would hold an infant.

Ping's mind worked frantically. He couldn't reach his dagger, so he reached into his pack and grabbed Bik-Bik around his waist.

"Bik-Bik, I need a dagger!" he yelled. Bik-Bik understood. Magical creatures, Cathayan ferrets were able to assume the form of any object equal to their mass, as long as they had previously been in contact with it. Ping felt Bik-Bik transform into a hard steel dagger in his fist. He lifted it out of the pack and stabbed down onto one of the giant's hands as hard as he could. With a great yell, the giant's fingers flew apart, and Ping made another dash for the fireplace.

Just as he reached it, a bench flew over his head, crashing over the fireplace's opening, sealing it shut. He spun around and saw the giant rushing after him, his face a mask of fury. His escape route cut off, Ping had no other choice but to maneuver back out into the hallway. Once again sprinting down the long corridor, he came to an abrupt halt halfway down. There, at the other end, was Du Shu, his arms folded tightly across his chest, and a wicked grin on his face.

Ping spun around, and he saw Du Shu's son filling the doorway he had just left.

Bik-Bik transformed back into his natural form and said, "Next time I'll change myself into a brain; maybe that way you'll think before getting us into this kind of situation!"

Ping lowered himself into a crouch as the giants advanced. As soon as they were near, he...

CHAPTER 1

A serving girl bumped into the Troubadour, interrupting the story. The Troubadour's magic ended abruptly, and Daylen Jagaro found himself back where he had been the whole time—sitting on a soft, velvet cushion in one of the many lounges aboard the treasure ship the Mighty Sparrow. A collective moan rose from the many listeners.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the Troubadour, a female dwarf with her face painted chalk white, was saying. "Just give me a moment, and I shall continue the tale of Ping the Thief and Du Shu the Giant-King!"

Daylen stretched, looking around at the others. The lounge was filled with merchants like him, though he was the only Westerner. Serving girls were bringing them food and drink—mostly sweetbread and tea. The air was filled with incense, which at first he had found delightful, but now he found was giving him a headache. He decided that the exploits of the mighty Ping would have to wait for another time. It was a fascinating tale, though. The dwarfs of Throal had similar tales about giants, which he always took as mythology. After all, the giants were always featured as villains in the dwarfs' legends, which Daylen had always taken as evidence of the dwarfs' inherent distrust of a world filled with races much larger than themselves. However, finding similar stories all the way here in the Far East made him reconsider; he would have to make a note of it in his journal.

He stood and wandered out of the lounge. He headed up a narrow flight of stairs, past busy sailors, and out onto the top deck. He took a deep breath as the warm sun and cool, crisp air washed over him. He leaned against the rail, staring out at the clouds as they swam by. His gaze fell past the railing to the earth far, far below. He could see a river, which looked like a glimmering blue thread, cutting through a forest that spread out like a vast green sea.

The Mighty Sparrow was an airship. He had seen many airships in his day—from merchant galleys to the mighty stone airships of the Theran Empire—but still the treasure ship held him in awe. It was the largest wooden airship he had ever seen: from bow to stern it stretched an imposing four hundred feet and was easily two hundred feet wide. It boasted an impressive nine masts, each of which were decorated with colorful flags meant to ward off bad luck while invoking the blessings of the Passions. Crewed by a staff of no less than four hundred, the ship was capable of holding up to five hundred additional passengers.

Airship magic never ceased to impress Daylen. He understood the basic mechanics of it; built like a regular, seafaring vessel, the ship floated on air as its counterpart did on water. This, as far as he understood, was based on a magical principle known as the Law of Similarity. However, beyond that, he understood very little, only that the wood constructing the airship was imbued with kernels of True air, making airships very, very expensive. A ship the size of the Mighty Sparrow was more than just a powerful ship—it was a testimony to the owner's wealth and power.

But while he marveled at that wealth and power, he found that it was inspiring him less than it was depressing him, as it served only to remind the struggling merchant of his own lack of wealth. That was precisely what had brought him to the mystical land of Cathay.

Daylen hailed from the West, from a backwater province known as Barsaive, its only real accomplishment the fact that its divided people somehow managed to prevent annexation by the mighty Theran Empire. His home was in Bartertown, a ramshackle city that sat just outside the entrance to the dwarf kingdom of Throal, located in the mountains of the same Name. That was thousands of miles away, and in a land rife with competition. Still, there was wealth to be found there, and for a time Daylen was doing quite well for himself.

He came from a long line of merchants; it was a proud dynasty stretching back to before the Scourge. For a time, his family was moderately powerful, and even as little as two decades ago rivaled the great Overland Trading Company, which dominated trade in that region. But that was two decades ago, and times have changed.

By the time Daylen was thirteen, his family had begun losing business. It was just simple competition at first, but when the Therans returned to Barsaive, setting up a permanent residence in the center of the province in their mighty fortress Triumph, business suddenly went from bad to worse.

Now at the age of thirty, Daylen felt like a miserable failure. When his grandfather was the same age, he was already a successful businessman, owning two airships and employing several dozen workers. His trade routes had stretched from the city of Haven in northeastern Barsaive to the city of Vivane in the southwest, and all up and down the mighty Serpent River. Daylen, on the other hand, worked from load to load, his clients changing from contract to contract. He always seemed to struggle in his search for buyers. He owned no airships (his cousin Valen Jagaro had inherited the one remaining airship of their grandfather's; the other was lost years ago over Death's Sea—a vast expanse of molten lava located in southern Barsaive), and he always just barely had enough silver in the bank for his next investment.

His father had died of a plague—Death's Caress—the year before he left for Cathay, and Daylen was pretty sure that he had thought of his son as a failure. His mother had died when he was only five, but he felt pretty confident that if she were alive she would be just as disappointed. In his family, worth was measured by wealth—a fact his cousin Valen never let him forget.

When he heard that Cathay opened her borders to the West again — something that had not been done since before the Scourge—Daylen decided that it was his last chance to make something of himself. He traveled to Travar—a city renowned for its airships—and, after investing in a large cargo of Barsavian rugs, booked passage on an airship and headed east. He arrived first in the Theran province of Indrisa, located just southwest of Cathay. There he sold his rugs to a contact before finally heading northeast by caravan with a chest full of minted silver.

That was six months ago.

He had heard about the civil war before arriving. He knew that nearly one hundred years ago, the Emperor of Cathay had died before producing an heir, ending the millennia-long Yun dynasty. This sundered the mighty Empire into five distinct kingdoms, each fighting for control of the Imperial Throne. He thought this conflict would work to his advantage, as war had a tendency to put greater demand on products. He thought he would be wealthy by now, heading back to Barsaive with a hull full of exotic goods. The first Barsavian merchant to trade with the East! The scholars of the Great Library of Throal would write about him; his cousin would envy him. He would be the contact between the East and other Barsavian merchants who wished to break into the market. Maybe he would even be the one to introduce the owner of the Overland Trading Company—the great obsidiman, Omasu him-self—to the East!

But those dreams were slowly fading. He had so far met nothing but stubborn resistance. While he was excited to make arrangements with the Cathayans, most were less than impressed with him. He may be the first Barsavian merchant to reach Cathay, but Cathay was already flooded with Western merchants from across the Theran Empire, most of whom had far more exotic goods to offer than Daylen could promise. That, and he encountered opposition from the Cathayan guilds, who demanded hefty slices of the profit which he could not afford. And from some others, he even encountered a bit of hostility.

The week prior, he had passed through Heng Na, the capital of the kingdom Tiet Dei—The Land of Metal. He spent a great deal of time at the city's bazaar, which was set up on a sixty foot wide bridge that straddled a river cutting through the northern quarter of the great walled city. The merchant stalls were set up along the sides of the bridge, and merchants unloaded their goods straight off of boats from the river. Butcher's stalls crawled along the shores of the river, which allowed the blood and guts to be disposed of directly into the swift moving waters. Most Cathayans, however, seemed content to do the butchering at home, and it wasn't uncommon to see people walking around with crates of live chickens or ducks.

While there, he purchased an expensive silk robe to help blend in—or at least help him not advertise his foreignness so loudly. He haggled a bit with a young human woman before settling on a reasonable price for the robe. Dyed a deep, rich blue, it was decorated with images of forests, tigers, and eagles. He thought it made him look quite exotic indeed. However, the effort did little to improve his luck. The merchants of Heng Na were even less forgiving than any of the others he had thus far encountered. This, he learned, was because the king of Tiet Dei, Lee Chang He, imposed heavy taxes and draconian laws on his merchant class. Hanged corpses, dangling from the underside of the bridge, showed Daylen—and everyone else—the severity of punishment awaiting those who would test those laws.

He spent a few days in Heng Na making what he hoped would prove to be reasonable and profitable investments. Unsure of his next move, he had wandered to the center of the city, toward the airship docks. A great artificial lake spread out in a wide circle, docks jutting out into the dark blue waters like crooked, wooden teeth. Airships landed in the center of the lake and pulled up to the docks to unload their cargo. Nearby, the Iron Cloud was docked in the sky at a great spire that towered high above the king's palace. Serving as his personal warship, the Iron Cloud resembled a great Cathayan dragon made entirely from iron, its immense jaws concealing a powerful fire cannon capable of launching a ball of flame the size of a fully grown troll.

That is when he first saw the Mighty Sparrow. Its many red and yellow flags, which were tied to its nine masts, fluttered gently in the afternoon wind. He made his way down the dock to where over a dozen sailors were loading cargo up a broad ramp: several dozen barrels of pepper, crates upon crates filled with silver and porcelain containers and brightly painted vases, numerous casks of ink, and much more.

Overseeing the loading was a t'skrang, his deep red scales shimmering in the sunlight. Daylen marveled at the t'skrang, who was busy supervising the work; the humans, elves, dwarfs, and even obsidimen of Cathay all had a distinct look that clearly set them apart from their western cousins. The t'skrang of Cathay, however, looked no different than the t'skrang of Barsaive: standing just under six feet in height and weighing nearly two hundred pounds, the lizard-like t'skrang stood with his hands on his hips, his six foot long tale swaying gently back and forth, his long beak-like nose clacking open and closed in some sort of idiosyncratic habit. Like many of his kind, the t'skrang had a crest running from the base of his neck to the top of his head through the center of his skull. Those crests, to Daylen, always looked like some sort of fin. Of course, he knew better than to ever suggest to a t'skrang that they were a type of fish.

After getting the t'skrang's attention, he discovered that the great treasure ship belonged to Ning-Xa, a human merchant hailing from the kingdom of Feng Dei. Daylen managed to book passage, and several hours later, here he was, staring out over the railing of the great ship as it sailed gently through the sky, far above Cathay.

Daylen sighed, trying to shrug off his anxiety. In the hold below decks sat his meager cargo: a variety of colored bowls, incense, and spices. In addition to what he saw being loaded up the ramp earlier, some of the other cargo aboard the Mighty Sparrow was dozens of crates of True earth.

The True elements were kernel-sized essences of the elements—earth, fire, air, water, and wood. Originating from their respective magical planes, a single kernel of a True element contained immense magical power. Mined from places where this plane of existence and the elemental planes were closest—such as high in the clouds for air or a thick, old growth forest for wood—these coveted kernels were worth a great deal of wealth. What could he possibly offer this Ning-Xa, whose immense airship was bloated with such treasure?

He dragged a hand across his face. If only he were an adept. But he could not wield magic; he could not bend the patterns of reality to his will like Ping the Thief did, or even the Troubadour who told his story. If he were to succeed, he would have to do so through his other merits.

The red-scaled t'skrang, who Daylen had learned was Named Tsa-Hung, appeared from below decks. He stopped, his eyes sweeping across the deck, surveying the sailors. They came to rest upon Daylen as he stood by the rail. Daylen nodded a hello; the t'skrang nodded curtly back and approached.

"Daylen Jagaro," said the t'skrang in Cathayan—a language of which Daylen was still working out the finer nuances. "Lord Ning-Xa requests your presence."

Daylen's heart skipped a beat. He smiled and did his best to keep the anxiety from his voice, "Of course. Please lead the way."

Deep into the bowels of the ship they walked—a journey that felt immeasurably long to Daylen. They passed near a large eating gallery, where the distinct smells of Cathayan dishes—rice, pork, noodles, and various soups to name just a few—tantalized him. He was surprised when his stomach responded; he hadn't eaten much since boarding the ship, too distracted by the impending meeting to summon an appetite. Now he was regretting that decision.

Tsa-Hung finally led him into a wide, opulent chamber. The floor was covered with a thick, lush rug, the walls with scrolls and tapestries picturing broad, snow-capped mountains, bamboo forests, and various exotic animals. The room was filled strongly with the smell of incense. He could see dozens of the sticks burning on a large stand in the corner. Daylen recognized them as dragon incense: magically enchanted sticks, whose smoke formed images of Cathayan dragons. The smoky enchantments filled the room and swam gracefully through the air like wispy spirits.

Sitting behind a low table near the far wall was the merchant lord Ning-Xa. He wore a robe similar to Daylen's, though obviously of superior quality. Gold with blue highlights, it was cinched at the waist with a golden sash. The sleeves flared out at the wrists, so wide that Daylen thought you could hide a small child in them. On his head he wore a short square cap which matched his robe. A long, black, braided ponytail fell from beneath it, snaking its way across his left shoulder to lie across his chest. Perhaps only a few years older than Daylen, his face was clear, smooth, and handsome. He wore a pointed beard that wrapped tightly around his small mouth, trimmed in the Cathayan style, oiled and slick, falling down into three sharp points. Behind him a pair of glass doors hung open, revealing a balcony, beyond which passed rolling waves of clouds in an otherwise empty sky.

He smiled when they entered, motioning to a large, plush cushion that lay opposite of him on the floor. "Please," he said, "have a seat."

Daylen nodded, smiling politely, and seated himself while Tsa-Hung bowed and departed, closing the heavy, engraved door shut behind him. Ning-Xa motioned to a bowl of peaches and a silver platter of steamed buns.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, offering the food. While Daylen reached for a steamed bun, his host poured them each a cup of tea.

"This is a most impressive ship," said Daylen, hoping Cathayans responded the same to flattery as Westerners. Ning-Xa bowed his head humbly.

"I am glad it pleases you. I have seen the airships of the West. They, too, are most impressive." Daylen was nodding in agreement when Ning-Xa suddenly asked, "How many airships do you own?"

Daylen was grateful he had a mouthful of steamed bun. He felt suddenly insecure; he chewed slowly and exaggeratedly, giving himself time to think. He washed it down with some tea—which was much sweeter than he had anticipated—before saying, "I have three, though none are as splendid as the Mighty Sparrow." Ning-Xa seemed pleased with the answer. Daylen tried to think of three Names for the ships just in case Ning-Xa asked. A moment passed. Daylen was about to break the silence when Ning-Xa suddenly said, "What brings you so far from home?"

Money.

"I have always been fascinated by your culture. I hoped to learn as much about Cathay as possible. There are many people where I come from who have no means to travel so far, and who would be grateful of the knowledge that I will bring back."

"Ah, I see," said Ning-Xa. "I thought perhaps you were here to make money." Daylen studied him; he wore a slight smile on his lips. Greed, then, was not as shameful in the East as in the West, it would seem. He allowed himself to smile as well.

"Well, I hope to make new business partners, yes. But a sharing of cultures is my true passion." He wasn't ready to let go of his pretense yet.

Ning-Xa bowed his head. "Truly a noble purpose, no doubt." Then he produced a rolled up scroll from one of his massive sleeves.

"I wonder what else he has up there," Daylen mused.

Ning-Xa unrolled the scroll and read from it, "You come from Barsaive?"

"Yes, from Batertown. It's a very wealthy city." Well, there were wealthy people in it.

"And you have only a small cargo onboard." Daylen suddenly realized the scroll was the ship's manifest. He was required to reveal his cargo's contents when bringing it onboard. He was suddenly worried that it would betray his lack of wealth.

"Just a little taste of what the East has to offer," Daylen smiled casually. Ning-Xa cast a sideways glance at him, and Daylen had the feeling he was being studied.

Then Ning-Xa said, "It is curious that you travel by yourself. Why do you have no entourage?"

The lie came easily to Daylen, "I have found that the common man is more willing to speak with one who isn't surrounded by a small army of guards and servants. I have been interviewing people in order to construct a full picture of what life in Cathay is truly like." Well, it was partly true. Daylen was interested in the culture, and he had been writing notes down in his journal, but it was mostly so he could sell the information to the dwarfs at the Great Library of Throal back in Barsaive.

"I suppose the question then is, what can we do for each other?" The merchant rolled the scroll back up, and it promptly vanished back up his sleeve.

Daylen set down his steamed bun and said, "I was hoping you would ask that. My question to you then is, how would you like exclusive trading rights to Barsaive?"

It was a bold proposition; after all, he did not have the kind of influence and power to make such a promise. But as far as Ning-Xa knew, he could be the wealthiest merchant in all of Barsaive. Besides, all he needed was to return to Barsaive, meet with various merchants, such as the rich and powerful Omasu, and write up a few contracts. A small broker's commission later and Daylen would soon be teaching cousin Valen the true meaning of envy.

Ning-Xa smiled. "I hear that the lands to the west have small, winged elves." Daylen cocked his head. Small, winged elves?

"Oh! You mean windlings," he said. He could understand how they could confuse them for elves: standing only eighteen inches tall, they resembled miniature elves with dragonfly wings. A sentient race of Name-givers, Daylen had long taken them for granted. To someone who had never seen one, however, they must truly seem remarkable.

"Yes," said Ning-Xa, pleased he understood, "Windlings."

"What about them?"

"I would like to own some." Ning-Xa took a sip of tea.

Daylen's face turned white. Own? He meant slavery. He swallowed. The Therans owned slaves, the Barsavians did not. Most of the cultures in Barsaive outlawed the practice over one hundred years ago, and to most, slavery was viewed as an unforgivable sin.

"My people, we Barsavians I mean, we don't participate in the trade of flesh."

"Ah," Ning-Xa set down his teacup, "Yes, truly noble." The way he smiled was patronizing and told Daylen what he really thought about such a "noble" policy.

"But," Daylen began, "I have contacts with many other resources, like iron, timber—," he was cut off by a dismissive wave of Ning-Xa's hand.

"Those I have enough of. I am interested in windlings."

Daylen's heart began to sink. "He knows I'm a fraud," he thought, already starting to mourn the respect he felt he just lost.

"Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip." Ning-Xa began to stand.

"I can get you the windlings!" Daylen suddenly blurted out. Even as he heard the words, he couldn't believe it was himself saying it. What was he doing? He didn't believe in slavery. If he wanted to deal in the slave trade he could have been rich long ago. But his principles wouldn't allow it.

"Damn my principles," he thought angrily. "Where have they ever gotten me? Nowhere. I've played the ethical game, and there's a reason why it isn't very popular."

"I can get you windlings," he said again.

Ning-Xa smiled warmly and sat back down. "Ahhh," he purred, "I am most pleased." From his other sleeve he produced another scroll, this one blank. He dipped a long quill in ink and began writing up a contract. As he watched the graceful Cathayan characters appear on the scroll, Daylen took a deep breath to calm his shaking hands.

It would be all right. He would buy them from the Therans. They were already slaves anyway; it's not like he was going to go out and enslave free, Barsavian windlings. Besides, they would probably be treated with the utmost respect. Cathayans weren't used to them, after all. They would be a novelty.

Finished, Ning-Xa produced another blank scroll and set it next to the contract. He passed a hand across both of them, and suddenly the blank scroll was a duplicate of the first. He slid one across to Daylen.

"He's an adept," he thought, feeling suddenly even further out of his league.

"One for you, and one for me," he said. "It says that I am willing to purchase two hundred windlings for the standard market price." Daylen took it numbly, folded it, and slid it into his robe's inner pocket.

"And one other thing." Ning-Xa suddenly held a small, golden container about half the size of his palm. The way it caught and reflected light told Daylen that the container wasn't truly made from gold, but orichalcum.

Orichalcum was a metal that was created by combining True air, earth, wood, fire, and water through a careful—and dangerous—alchemical process. The amount of orichalcum used to make that container was worth easily twice as much as Daylen's entire cargo.

As if sensing his thoughts, Ning-Xa slid the container across the table. "For your cargo..." he began. Daylen's breath caught in his chest. He reached out slowly and lifted the small vessel carefully. It was cool to the touch. He opened the lid and saw many tiny, icy white kernels sitting inside. Though solid, they looked like small, condensed balls of slowly swirling air.

True air.

There must have been dozens. He counted them greedily: there were twenty. He understood that most vessels designed for carrying the True elements were either orichalcum or at least lined with the precious metal, especially for True fire, which would burn through wood. Some of the True elements had to be kept apart from one another; if mixed, True fire and True air would explode in a tremendous fireball—the science behind the powerful fire cannons.

Daylen smiled, though he tried not to look too pleased.

"...and for our new friendship," Ning-Xa finished.

As Daylen was leaving the room, Ning-Xa bowed. He returned the bow, lower than the one given to him by Ning-Xa—a sign of deference in their culture. He left and returned to his room. He set the orichalcum container and contract onto his goose-feather bed and touched the side of a small, brass bowl filled with water that sat on his nightstand. Enchanted with elemental magic, the bowl was designed to warm its contents upon command. After washing his face, Daylen sat down and opened the orichalcum case and stared at the beautiful swirling winds. He reached out and touched them—they were cool, but not too cold. However, the longer he left his finger on them, the colder it became. He removed it, grinning stupidly.

He snapped the lid shut and laid down. This is what it was supposed to be like. The memories of his depression and anxiety melted away like a morning mist, and after a moment he couldn't even recall what it had felt like. He shook his head; how could he have doubted himself? He was destined for greatness. It was a little late in life, but he was going to outshine the rest of his family.

He probably should return to the West now, but he was feeling too good, too confident. No, he would finish his tour of the Far East. Besides, he didn't want Ning-Xa thinking he was too eager. No, this was going to be an equal partnership.

The next time they met, he would be sure not to bow so low.

CHAPTER 2

The inn was crowded, but Daylen found an empty seat on the upstairs balcony. He ordered a bowl of steamed rice and vegetables and tipped the young serving dwarf a single silver piece. The dwarf eyed the silver with wide eyes. Her face split into a large grin and she hurried off, bowing as she left. That would ensure he got the fresh vegetables, he knew. He was in the city of Guang-Bi in northern Tiet Dei. Just south of the river Jang, it was the last outpost before the northern frontier. Beyond this point there was nothing but scattered farming communities, fishing villages, and beyond the river, enemy territory.

He had departed the Mighty Sparrow earlier that morning with his orichalcum box tucked safely in his pocket along with the contract. The air docks were just outside the wooden walls of the city, and he was stopped at the gate by a squad of soldiers wearing bu pi—a type of sleeveless, leather armor—and carrying pole arms. Because most farmers and fishermen from the surrounding countryside came to Guang-Bi to sell their excess goods, nonresidents were charged a small fee, which fluctuated depending on the season. They charged Daylen five silver pieces. He pretended to ignore that the three elves ahead of him—farmers with several baskets of chicken eggs—were charged only a copper each.

The dwarf returned with his rice and vegetables, along with a pot of tea. He poured himself a cup while contemplating his next move. He wanted to journey north, past the fishing villages and across the river Jang. The river, a wide swath of swift moving waters, was bent like a horseshoe, the bow pointing toward foreign lands. Across the river to the west lay the kingdom of Shan Dei; across the river to the north, as well as to the east, lay the kingdom of Feng Dei.

Beyond the river there existed a desert that greatly intrigued him. Known as the Desert of Swallowed Tears, it was home to dozens of cities that existed solely on the mining of True earth. The large expanse existed in both kingdoms, spreading out for hundreds of miles, yet claimed by neither. If he could convince even one of the merchant cities to sell to the West, he could broker another very lucrative deal. But the stories were that the desert was hostile and dangerous. He wasn't too worried, however; luck was on his side.

After finishing his meal, Daylen set out into the city—he would need supplies. He headed for the merchant district.

The shops in Guang-Bi, just like in most of the other Cathayan cities Daylen had seen so far, had shutters that opened horizontally out onto the street. Passersby could look in and see the tradesmen work; when helping a customer, they would stand at the window as if it were a counter, with their wares clearly on display behind them. The shutter acted as an awning, giving the patron some protection from the weather.

Each street in the merchant quarter was dedicated to a specific trade: tailors, smiths, cobblers, and fullers, to name a few. He found his way to the grocers' district and stopped at a shop that had an image of a pair of sandals on a sign above the shutters. While in Heng Na the week before, he had learned that a pair of sandals signified a grocer specializing in the needs of travelers, as opposed to a pair of straw shoes, which signified a cobbler.

A troll stepped up to the window, his massive height of nine feet forcing him to hunch down. He had two spiraling horns growing from his skull just above his temples and yellowed tusks that pushed past his upper lip.

"What can I help you with today?" the troll asked in a kind voice that belied his fierce appearance.

"I am traveling north today, and I require one week's worth of trail rations." He would reach a settlement within the day, he knew, but there was no guarantee there would be a tavern or an inn.

The troll disappeared into his shop for a moment before returning with a sack bulging with dried meat, fruit, nuts and seeds, and a few dried rice cakes.

"That will be fifteen silver," the troll said. As Daylen fished in his coin pouch for the money, he spotted a magnificent telescope perched on a stand against the back wall. He dropped the coins into the troll's waiting palm—making them look ludicrously tiny in his enormous hand—and said, "What is that?"

The troll turned, following Daylen's finger, and said, "That is a telescope of far-seeing."

"May I see it?"

The troll reached the stand in one lumbering step and lifted it carefully between thumb and index finger. When Daylen took it from him, he was surprised by how heavy it was. He had seen such devices before, though they were rare and expensive.

"It is magical," the troll informed him. Daylen lifted the lens to his eye. The ramparts on the city wall loomed suddenly before him; the patrolling archers clear as day.

"This is not magical," said Daylen. "I have seen these devices before, and this one is no different."

"You must be an adept to use the magic," the troll explained. Daylen grimaced. Adepts were able to weave astral threads into magical objects, making them a part of themselves, just as an arm or leg was a part of them. In this way, the adept could tap into the magical power of the item.

"What does it do?" Daylen inquired, feeling a twinge of inadequacy.

"It allows you to see many, many miles with a clarity beyond normal vision," was the troll's answer.

"How much?"

"One hundred gold," he responded. Daylen made a face as if to say that the telescope was far overpriced. The truth was, it was a very fair deal but the object would be useless to him.

He handed it back and asked, "Do you have anything cheaper? Perhaps common magical items?" Even though grocers specialized in foodstuffs, he knew that those catering to travelers often had many non-food items as well. The troll rubbed his chin for a moment, thoughtful, and then produced a small globe of green glass, perhaps two inches in diameter.

"What is it?" Daylen asked, taking it in his hand.

"It is a messaging globe. Speak a person's Name, then speak a message no greater than ten words and smash the glass. Your message will arrive at the person within moments."

Daylen smiled, turning the ball over in his hand. He tossed it in the air and caught it with flair.

"I'll take it."

He set out from the city alone and on foot, despite the dangers that it posed. He had heard of the bandits that plagued most of Cathay; the war had left many people dispossessed, and some had turned to banditry in order to survive. Some of the more remote regions were controlled by warlords, who, if the mood struck them, could be even more dangerous than the bandits.

But the king of Tiet Dei ruled with an iron fist. Though, just like the other four kingdoms of Cathay, the land was vast, regular patrols kept a semblance of order throughout the realm. Daylen did not expect any problems reaching the northern borders.

The walls of Guang-Bi vanished slowly behind him as he marched down the simple, well-worn dirt road. Most major roadways of Cathay were made from stone or brick, with stone markers placed every few miles to tell the weary traveler where he was and where he was heading. However, major roadways were rare, and most of Cathay could be described as remote, at best.

Daylen had walked all throughout his native Barsaive, and other than its size, Cathay so far seemed not much different; though the costly—and in his opinion senseless—civil war made it considerably more dangerous.

He had yet to see the war first hand. He had seen columns of soldiers marching off to patrol the borders, their polished weapons and armors winking in the sunlight as they kicked up clouds of dirt in their wake, but so far he had not seen a single military engagement. He had overheard rumors of this battle or that battle, but it all seemed far away; if no one had told him that he was in the middle of a great war involving five separate kingdoms, he would never have guessed.

Maybe that was because it was all one giant stalemate. The borders shifted like the tides, and thousands upon thousands died each year, but in the end, no one kingdom was any closer to victory than it was when the war began. The land of Cathay was so vast that Daylen had his doubts any one kingdom could ever hold it all.

He put such thoughts from his mind. It would do him no good to fill his head with thoughts of death and destruction. He was a businessman, and he needed to keep his mind on business. Besides, the war was far away, and none of his concern.

XXX

It was twilight when he saw it: a soft red glow on the horizon. It took him a moment to realize what it was: nestled along the banks of the river Jang, a village burned. Flames leapt toward the sky, sending fiery embers swirling through dark clouds of smoke; the waters just beyond the homes reflecting the burning light, causing it to appear like a river of fire.

Later, he would not be able to recall what compelled him to hurry forward. An inexplicable sense of curiosity, maybe? It didn't matter; what did matter was that he mistook the fire for an accident. The peasants of Cathay constructed their homes with thatched roofs, and it would not have been the first time Daylen had seen such homes go up in flames. But when the clustered buildings drew closer, he saw the bodies.

Most were peasants—men, women, and children. Great gashes left most of them disemboweled and others dismembered. Some had arrows sticking from their bodies. Bandits? An attack from a warlord? Daylen didn't know. He felt suddenly vulnerable. He wandered around in a half daze as the wind swept the smoke into swirling clouds throughout the village streets. He had seen death before; it was a violent world he lived in. But he had never seen it on this scale. He came upon two bodies, a young human mother and her infant. The sword stroke had cut down through her arm, severing it neatly but for a thin strip of flesh. The same stroke had cleaved through her child, a young girl, whom she had been cradling protectively.

Not all of the women and girls had been so fortunate. Many were stripped naked, showing evidence of abuse before having their skulls crushed.

Daylen absorbed the carnage in a numbed state; his instincts told him to run and to hide, but he was caught in a trance, unable to look away.

The sound of coughing told him there were survivors. He wandered toward the sounds, which were soon joined by moans of pain and terrible cries of anguish. He saw them, huddled together, walking like pale ghosts through the smoke, surveying the damage, their pain, fear, and sadness unhidden.

Daylen rounded a corner and saw a young human boy lying on his back in a shallow puddle. Smoke stung Daylen's eyes, and he held a sleeve of his robe to his face so he could get a clear look. As he approached, he saw that the puddle was made from the boy's blood, which flowed from a jagged wound that ran across his belly.

"Garlen protect me," he whispered, though if the Passion could hear him in this foreign land he did not know.

Kneeling beside the boy was a human woman. She held one of his hands tightly in her own, while her other laid gently on his forehead. Her straight dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that fell down between her shoulder blades. On her left wrist she wore a bracer of leather and jade. Daylen could see a pattern of pearls embedded into the jade; though a pattern of what, he could not tell. She had a long, slender saber in a sheath hanging from her hip, and a dagger in a sheath strapped to her left calf.

Standing over them both was an obsidiman, his massive arms wrapped tightly across his chest while gazing grimly upon them. Like the obsidimen of Barsaive, he was about seven feet tall, squat with broad shoulders. Hairless, the obsidimen resembled creatures of stone, their skin the consistency of rock. Like the other Name-giver races, their skin varied in color; his was an illustrious white with shades of green. The way it caught the firelight told Daylen that the obsidiman was a member of the renowned Jade Brotherhood—obsidimen who were revered among Cathayans as great warriors and heroes. Next to him, planted in the earth like a spear, was a long, double-bladed sword. It was as if two double-edged swords had been attached hilt to hilt, the blades stretching out in opposite directions with a single, long hilt in the center.

The woman was whispering soothing words to the dying boy, who gazed into her eyes as if afraid to look away. Daylen approached slowly. The obsidiman turned his head slightly as he approached but looked away again once he realized he was not a threat.

Now that he was closer, Daylen could see that the boy was no longer bleeding.

"His heart must have stopped," Daylen thought, wondering if the woman had known him. At least he didn't die alone.

When the boy gasped, Daylen saw that his eyes still held awareness. Incredulous, he looked at the wound; the long jagged gash had clotted. Only moments ago it was spilling his life into the dirt; it could not possibly have healed that fast! He stepped in for a closer look... The woman's hand suddenly shot out, seizing a handful of his robes.

"Hey—!" he began to protest, then he saw that she held her dagger in her other fist. "No wait, please—!"

The blade flashed in the firelight as it plunged into his stomach. His breath left him, shock swallowing his words. He stared stupidly as the dagger dragged across his abdomen and withdrew. He could see his lifeblood running along the blade; he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his strength flowing from him...

In one quick movement, she tore the piece of fabric she had just cut from his robe. Daylen realized he was unhurt. He slowly opened his eyes, seeing that the blood he had thought he had seen on the blade was nothing but the red glow of the fires.

The woman expertly tied the strip of silk around the boy's abdomen, while Daylen gazed at her stupidly. He turned to look at the obsidiman, who was looking back at him, chuckling. Daylen snapped his mouth shut and composed himself, trying his best to look dignified after his cowardly display.

"I'm glad I could be of service," he said, straightening his robe. The woman looked up at him, and for a second time Daylen lost his breath. She was beautiful; her eyes were two bright green gems above two full, red lips. Though young, her smooth, slender face betrayed a grim determination that could only be earned through a life of hardship. Beads of sweat rolled down her skin, which glistened like silk the color of saffron. Her eyes—so green, which was unusual for Cathayans—remained fixed on him, studying.

Then she turned abruptly to the obsidiman and said, "He will live." She stood and moved to the next wounded villager: an old woman with an arrow in her calf. Daylen watched with fascination as she expertly removed the arrow and, placing a hand over the wound, performed the same miracle she had with the boy.

"She can use magic to heal," Daylen thought. He had heard of such things. Back in Barsaive, there were questors of the Passion Garlen who could perform such wonders, able to do so with powers granted to them by their deity. He wondered if this woman was a Cathayan equivalent to a questor.

Daylen watched as she moved from one peasant to the next. The villagers seemed to recognize her, for they began gathering around, bringing her their injured. The pair was silent as they worked. The woman did not use magic on all of them, he noted, only on those who were most seriously injured. For the rest she used traditional healing methods, skillfully applying medicinal applications—cleaning wounds, setting splints, applying salves to burns, and stitching lacerations. She seemed to have been prepared for it all, her equipment tucked safely in a pack she wore over her shoulder.

By the time they finished, it was dark. Without a word, the two turned and began to leave. Daylen looked around at the burned out village and the slowly growing piles of bodies. Then he looked back at the two well-armed, clearly experienced travelers.

"Wait!" he yelled, chasing after them. They continued to walk, either not hearing him or ignoring him.

"Wait!" he yelled again. Still they did not turn.

Ignoring.

He caught up to them. "I am Daylen Jagaro," he said, falling into step with them. He saw them exchange a glance with one another, but they said nothing.

"What are your Names?" Silent, not meeting his gaze, simply staring off into the dark horizon, they continued to walk.

"Well, I understand. Not much for words. Me either. But do you mind if I walk with you? Three seems safer than two, after all." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. The obsidiman looked at him.

"Er, safer than one," he amended. The obsidiman looked away. He could feel the ground tremble with each one of the stone-man's steps, betraying his immense weight. Daylen casually distanced himself from him. Though the obsidiman appeared graceful, Daylen was not entirely convinced he could survive if the big man fell atop of him.

"I take by your silence that you don't object! Besides, I kind of figure you owe me for my robe. This was expensive, you know." He lifted his shredded robe for them to see, though they did not look. He thought he saw the woman shake her head to herself, but since they did not seem ready to kill him, he was prepared to put up with their contempt if it meant they would be around in case of an attack.

He continued in silence, the smoldering homes growing dimmer and dimmer behind them.

XXX

The fire caught slowly, and it smelled terrible. Built from dry prairie grass and fat clumps of dry dung from some sort of large animal, no matter where Daylen sat the smoke it gave off seemed to blow right at him.

The three of them sat in a circle around a small pit the obsidiman had dug. They had walked for several hours, deep into the night. Daylen's ankles were already swollen from a full day's walk, but he felt immediately foolish when he off-handedly complained of the discomfort. The obsidiman had looked at him again, this time with a stare that reminded him he had not been invited to begin with.

Daylen gave up on trying to avoid the dung smoke and pulled out his sack of trail rations. He had just pulled out a humble portion for himself when he noticed both the woman and the obsidiman were staring at him.

"Um... would you like some?" he offered. The obsidiman did not hesitate. He reached across the fire and snatched the satchel from his lap. After pulling out a large handful (easily half a week's worth of food), he tossed the bag to the woman, who began taking some for herself.

Daylen watched with fascination as the obsidiman devoured mouthful after mouthful, pausing only to take large swigs from a water skin.

"Thank you," said the woman, tossing the sack back to Daylen.

He caught it and said, "You're welcome." Smiling, he put it away, not caring how light it now was, but thankful that she had finally said something to him.

He watched as she delicately put small portions into her mouth, chewing slowly and softly. It was quite a contrast to the obsidiman, whose chewing was no doubt frightening animals from miles away. The firelight rippled across his glossy white skin, making him look to Daylen like a chiseled statue. He was mesmerized by the way it seemed to shimmer with the flames. He realized suddenly that the obsidiman had stopped chewing and was looking at him, a handful of dried nuts stopped halfway to his mouth, his cheeks bulging from the food that was already there.

"What?" the obsidiman asked, though it came out more like, "Wuf," spraying seeds from his mouth as he spoke.

Daylen shook his head. "Nothing," he said, looking away and taking a bite from his rice cake.

"So," he said to the woman, "do you praise the Passions for your healing powers?" She just looked at him, and for a moment he wondered if he had somehow offended her with his question.

Finally she said, "No. My people dedicate their lives to the healing arts."

Daylen cocked his head. "Your people.?"

"She's a Daughter of Heaven," the obsidiman explained, his voice deep and resonant. The woman went back to eating, as if that explained everything. So she was an adept. Daylen had never before heard of an adept able to heal in such a way; he would have to make a note of it in his journal.

"And you?" Daylen looked at the obsidiman, "You're also an adept?" The obsidiman nodded.

"I am a Warrior."

Daylen looked at him. The obsidiman had finished eating, and he sat cross-legged, composed, his broad shoulders relaxed, with his long, double-bladed sword lying across his legs.

"Of course you are," he said. "Well what brings you two out here? You seem unlikely companions."

"I am of the Jade Brotherhood," the obsidiman said simply, as if that explained everything.

"I'm sorry," Daylen began, "but I'm not from around here. I don't know what any of this means. I have heard of your kind before, but the way I understood it you were great warriors and defenders of the weak."

The obsidiman nodded his massive head. "We defend the empire."

Daylen looked at him quizzically. "But the empire is no more."

"The empire is eternal." Now it was the woman who spoke. She too had finished eating and was looking at him. "We defend it from those who would see it destroyed."

"Please, forgive my ignorance, but I thought the empire was shattered into five kingdoms.?"

"The War of Wu Xing," said the obsidiman, staring into the flames.

"Yes," said Daylen. "Civil war."

"No," said the woman, "The War of Wu Xing is a test."

"A...test?"

"To see who is the strongest. The wisest. The one destined to rule Cathay. One day the empire will be whole again."

Daylen nodded. "Just another word for civil war," he thought, though not wanting to be contentious, he did not push the issue.

"So...you don't take sides in the war?" he asked.

The obsidiman shook his head. "We are forbidden."

"But back in that village; you saved those people."

"Daughters of Heaven heal the sick and the wounded and protect the weak," she said. "We do not serve the kingdoms. We serve the people—all of the people."

"They are all citizens of the empire," the obsidiman added.

Daylen nodded, though he wondered how the various factions felt about that. He imagined it would not make some of them happy seeing these Daughters of Heaven healing their enemies, even if they did receive similar treatment. "Is that what brought you to that village?"

"We happened upon the village by chance, just after the soldiers left." She said.

"Which soldiers were they?" Daylen wondered aloud.

The obsidiman shrugged his shoulders. "Feng Dei or Shan Dei—who can say?"

"Raids are common across the river," she said, "Tiet Dei will respond with a raid of their own, and more innocent people will die." A weary acceptance was in her voice, though Daylen thought he could detect a hint of bitterness, too.

"If you weren't heading to the village," said Daylen, "where are you headed?"

For a moment they said nothing, and Daylen wondered if they were going to answer him at all. But then she said, "We are heading to the Desert of Swallowed Tears to speak with a merchant."

Daylen smiled, delighted. "I'm heading to the very same place!" They did not seem to share his enthusiasm.

"If you don't mind, I mean, it just seems that we're getting along so well, I thought—,"

"You may travel with us," the obsidiman interrupted. Daylen beamed, feeling a great deal of anxiety suddenly lifted. The trip to the desert would not be so perilous now, not with two adepts at his side.

"As I said before, my Name is Daylen Jagaro. What are yours?"

He heard the woman sigh before she said, "I am Su Shen, Daughter of Heaven of the Tower of Secrets."

"And I am Bei," the Warrior said simply, but proudly.

"Well met," said Daylen, smiling.

"Get some sleep, Daylen Jagaro," said Su Shen, lying down on her side, "Tomorrow we cross the river."

Crossing the river wasn't as dangerous as it sounded, though halfway across Daylen slipped on a hidden rock and fell with a great splash, earning a short guffaw from Bei. Su Shen had led them, following the long reach of the river, to a crossing where they were finally able to ford, and by the time Daylen had reached the opposite bank, he was thoroughly soaked. Despite the warm sun falling down upon them, the frigid river water set him to shivering.

They journeyed mostly in silence, though along the way Daylen was able to learn a little more about what his two companions were trying to accomplish.

"There have been a number of kidnappings throughout Tiet Dei," Su Shen had told him. "Mostly from small villages and mostly of young men. Our investigations have led us to a Name: Zen-Jan."

"Who is that?" Daylen had asked.

"A merchant. We captured members of a mercenary group who were involved with some of the kidnappings. They confessed to us—" At that moment, Daylen had noticed Bei flexing his fist—a subconscious gesture of the memory.

"—that they were hired by a merchant Named Zen-Jan, who operated out of the city Giang-Pei in the Desert of Swallowed Tears."

"What do you think they are kidnapping people for? To sell as slaves?" Daylen had wondered.

"That's what we intend to find out," she had responded, and that was the end of the conversation.

CHAPTER 3

Traveling by foot made the journey far from quick, and they did not reach the desert until early afternoon the following day. As Daylen topped the last rise, he stopped, unable to move but for his eyes, which swept the horizon, fixed in wonder. In all his days he had never seen a more magical sight.

The Desert of Swallowed Tears was a literal sea of sand; its dunes rippled across the surface in waves. The surf crashed against the shores with the tide, sending a spray of sand with each cresting swell. Tall, multi-mast ships were moored at a large network of docks that ran along the shore, their hulls submerged, bobbing slightly in the sand. A cluster of wooden buildings rose near the shore, lazy trails of smoke rising from their chimneys. It was to these buildings where Su Shen and Bei were headed, far ahead of Daylen, who was still standing with his jaw dropped. He snapped out of his enthrallment and chased after them.

The building they entered was an inn. A rush of noise and greasy smoke greeted them as they pushed through the narrow doorway. Everyone in the room stopped for a moment to look at them—but only a moment. Seeing nothing of interest, they went back to their food and games of dice.

Daylen recognized their type: sailors. This was a trading outpost, he suddenly realized. The True earth mined in the desert was brought back here and shipped out, either by caravan or airship.

He followed Su Shen and Bei to the bar, when, upon seeing the imposing obsidiman, the humans already sitting there decided suddenly that it would be best to instead sit at a nearby table.

The ork behind the bar eyed them suspiciously.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Are any among these people behind me captain of a sand ship?" asked Su Shen. The ork motioned toward an older human sitting with two other sailors at a far table. Su Shen nodded her thanks and headed over, Bei and Daylen in tow.

"May we sit with you?" She asked him when they arrived. The man looked up, his face at first harsh but quickly splitting into a wide grin, revealing a mouthful of crooked yellow teeth.

"What is this?" he asked with a laugh. "A jade obsidiman and Daughter of Heaven at my table?" He motioned to the two sailors, who promptly stood up and left. Su Shen and Daylen moved to sit, but Bei remained standing, finding the small wooden chairs a dubious invitation.

As Daylen sat, the man's eyes grew wide.

"And what sort of man is this, then?" he asked.

"He is a Westerner," answered Su Shen.

"A Westerner?" the old man repeated, as if trying the word for the first time. "I never imagined they would look so pale." Daylen smiled politely but shifted uncomfortably when the old man continued to gaze at him like someone who was trying to decide whether or not the milk in his cup had gone bad.

"We need passage to Giang-Pei," Su Shen ignored the old man's fascination with Daylen. "We understand you have a ship."

The captain turned to her. "Ah! A business transaction! It just so happens I am heading that way."

"Good. When do we leave?" she asked.

"I disembark within the hour. But if you expect to be on my ship, it will cost you one gold piece per head." He grinned amiably.

"We do not have that much gold," said Su Shen simply.

"No?" the man asked, grinning his sly smile. "Well what about one of these—," he reached for her jade bracer, as if to pluck one of the pearls from it. As quick as a snake, her hand flashed out and caught his wrist. Shock displayed briefly on his face, but vanished as quickly as it came. His grin slowly returned, and, after a few breaths, Su Shen cautiously let go. "No," was all she said.

"Well," the old man spread his hands, a look of feigned sadness present on his face. "Then I'm afraid I'm not the captain for you."

"We are on business for the empire," Su Shen objected, in a tone that suggested authority.

"And I'm on business for me. A man has to earn a living, especially during these trying times." Before the man had even answered, Daylen had known what he was going to say. He knew his type; he had dealt with them his entire life. The man was not going to be dissuaded from his greed by talk of patriotism or duty to the empire.

"Five silver each," Daylen spoke up. The old man turned toward him slowly, the corner of his mouth twisting upwards into a sly smirk.

He appraised Daylen for a long moment before finally saying, "Nine silver. I have a crew to pay."

Daylen looked at him closely. The man was toying with them. He did not even care about the money; he was sure of it. If Daylen had to guess, he would swear the old man just wanted the satisfaction of making a Daughter of Heaven and jade obsidiman pay him, to tickle his ego. Daylen shifted in his seat, taking a more aggressive posture by leaning forward.

"Five is more than fair. Besides, everyone will know that when Su Shen the Daughter of Heaven and Bei of the Jade Brotherhood came to the Desert of Swallowed Tears, it was—," Daylen motioned for his Name.

"Ah! Lao Meung," the old man said with an elaborate bow.

"—Lao Meung to whom they came."

Lao Meung stroked his chin thoughtfully, his index finger lingering on a large, hairy mole.

After a moment he said, "Seven silver a head then." Daylen expected this; a man like Lao Meung would want to get in the final haggle as a matter of principle. Daylen nodded and reached into his ever deflating belt pouch. He slid twenty-one silver to the merchant, who scooped it into his own pouch with a grin.

Daylen looked across the table and smiled at Su Shen. She nodded back casually, though if she were grateful for his efforts she did not show it. An hour later, Lao Meung led them up the gangplank of a three-mast junk, behind a large cargo of freshwater and various foodstuffs, which the merchant was delivering to Giang-Pei. When they gained the deck, Lao Meung said suddenly, "A storm is coming." Daylen searched the sky, but saw only a vast sea of blue.

"No," Lao Meung said, pointing to the crawling desert sands. "The desert is a temperamental mistress." Daylen looked, and saw that the sand had become more animated than it was but an hour ago. Compelled by some unseen force, the waves were growing taller and choppier, with a subtle menace that set icy fingers crawling across his skin.

"We must hurry. You three should get below deck," said the old man, before barking orders at his scattered sailors. The men erupted into a flurry of motion. Around their necks, Daylen could see that they wore thin scarves that they pulled up over their mouths and noses. They also wore low brimmed straw hats that were tied securely under their chins with a long, thin string of hemp.

Daylen tried to grab Lao Meung's attention—surely they couldn't be setting off through a storm? He was no sailor, but some things seemed self-evident. But before he could reach him, he heard Bei's booming voice call out to him, "This way, merchant."

Below deck the air was thick and humid. A skinny elf led them to their quarters—a cramped room furnished with several hammocks. A copper lantern hanging from the wall set the room aglow with a yellow light. There was no window, which lent the room a more claustrophobic atmosphere.

"It's a far cry from the Mighty Sparrow," Daylen thought with a frown. Su Shen and Bei wasted no time getting comfortable, ignoring the hammocks and sitting themselves down on the hard wooden floor.

He hoped it was not going to be a long trip. He wondered how easy it was going to be to convince the merchants of Giang-Pei to deal with the West. He could easily think of several possible buyers back in Barsaive who would be interested in True earth.

His hand went to his breast, reassuringly patting the orichal-cum box he could feel pressing through the silk. Then he suddenly remembered his torn robe; he looked down at the shredded gash with a bit of resentment. He sighed inwardly.

"Well, they got me here in one piece," he rationalized the sacrifice.

The ship cast off a few minutes later. Daylen could feel the planks sway beneath his feet as the ship cut through the desert sands. The wind began picking up outside, a sharp howl that caused the wooden ship to tremble. After several minutes, the gentle swaying of the ship became a violent rocking. Daylen could hear the sailors screaming commands to one another above deck, the sounds occasionally drowned out by a crashing wave of sand.

Daylen's face had gone white. He looked to Su Shen and Bei, who both sat cross-legged on the floor, a picture of serenity. The ship continued to rock back and forth, and the howling of the wind grew more intense, the noise growing so monstrously loud that he could barely hear himself whispering a prayer to the Passions.

He gripped a hammock for dear life when the ship suddenly tilted beneath him. The lantern flew from its hook and fell with a crash. The magical protection enchanting it snuffed the flame out before it could spread. However, the room was cast immediately into darkness.

"That's it!" Daylen yelled into the gloom. He couldn't stay down here. If the ship suddenly capsized, he wouldn't know up from down. Fighting an urge to panic, he fumbled for the latch. When he found it, he threw open the door and stumbled out into the narrow hall. Bouncing from wall to wall, desperately trying to keep his feet, he finally found his way to the top deck. Shoving the hatch open, he was greeted by a harsh spray of sand. It found its way into his eyes and throat. Gagging, he found he had to struggle to breathe; the air was so thick with it. Through his stinging eyes, he could see the ocean of sand around the ship rising like a turbulent maelstrom, sending whipping cyclones of sand through the howling wind.

The waves rose and fell all around them like something monstrous, surging angrily like some sort of mad, seething beast. There was no apparent pattern and no apparent reason; it was as if the Passions themselves were shaking the desert like a giant bowl of sand. He could see the sailors struggling to maintain control of the vessel. A large wave of sand crashed over the deck, slapping him with such force that he was lifted off of his feet and carried away. He slammed into the railing hard enough to make him momentarily forget his fears. He gripped it tightly as he felt the ship drop suddenly beneath him. He landed hard on his hip. He lay there, his eyes and mouth squeezed shut, the sand feeling like razors trying to cut their way in.

Then as abruptly as it had appeared, the storm stopped. Within a heartbeat, the desert inexplicably returned to a relative calm; the fierce winds ceased, and the ship returned to a calm gentle sway as it coasted along the rippling sands.

Daylen stood shakily to his feet and spit out a mouthful of sand. Lao Meung removed his straw hat and pulled down his scarf, shaking sand from them both, and then approached.

"I thought I said it would be safer down below?" the old man smiled, clearly amused by Daylen's appearance. Daylen shook himself off, sending a spray of sand in all directions.

"By the Passions, what was that?" he coughed, the sand feeling gritty against his teeth.

Lao Meung said, "I told you, it was a storm! Most other sailors prefer to avoid them, but not me! That is how I maintain my edge over the competition!" He looked at the railing and then said, "You are lucky you did not fall over; anyone falling into the sands is sucked under. No one survives."

Daylen was horrified.

"You would have joined countless others who have become a permanent part of this desert!" Lao Meung laughed and strolled away, barking orders to his men.

Daylen stared after him, speechless, slowly discovering all of the wondrous discomforts sand could provide.

XXX

After an hour of digging sand out of all kinds of places Daylen didn't really want to think about, he joined Su Shen and Bei in the mess hall for a warm meal of plain rice and a bowl of soup made from some sort of green leafy vegetable. It was a rather plain affair, but after two days of dry trail rations and water, it was a welcome diversion.

The sound of the sand scraping against the outer hull was much louder down here, reverberating through the timber and creating a constant, dull roar. He wondered what sort of magic went into creating these sand ships; he would have to remember to ask and make a note of it in his journal.

He had just poured himself a cup of tea when Lao Meung sat down to join them.

"Might I ask what business a Daughter of Heaven and obsidiman of the Jade Brotherhood have in Giang-Pei?" he asked Su Shen, shoveling down mouthful of rice with a pair of the thin tapered sticks that passed for utensils in Cathay. Daylen understood that Lao Meung, just like any good merchant, was asking so he could surmise whether or not there was any chance for profit in the answer.

But Su Shen answered with her usual trademarked, stiff formality, "We are searching for a merchant Named Zen-Jan."

Lao Meung's eyebrows rose at the sound of the Name. "Zen-Jan? He is a crafty merchant."

"You know him," said Su Shen, a statement of fact rather than a question.

Lao Meung nodded. "I have worked with him in the past. As I said, he is crafty—too crafty. I always found myself on the short of end of the profits, so now I no longer work with him."

"Where can we find him?" asked Su Shen, showing too much eagerness. Daylen noticed Lao Meung's hungry smile, though it was lost on the Daughter of Heaven.

"Why are you looking for him?" Lao Meung almost purred.

"He has information we seek," was her answer, with just a hint of growing impatience.

"Perhaps I can also supply this information?" Lao Meung offered.

"Unlikely," said Su Shen, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well how—," Lao Meung began when Bei cut him off.

"You cannot help us."

Lao Meung eyed the big obsidiman and relented with a slight nod and one of his grins. "I'm only trying to help."

"Help yourself to a potential profit," Daylen thought.

They reached the city of Giang-Pei a few hours later. Standing up on the deck, Daylen watched the small island approach with wonder. Perhaps two miles in diameter, the view of the sandy island was dominated by a large, wide pillar. Easily four hundred feet across, it rose from the sands near the shore, looming over a long network of docks and warehouses. Several large formations of brown stone created a natural jetty, against which the sandy surf pounded and sprayed.

As they drew closer, Daylen could see that the enormous pillar was in fact a tall, circular building, made from stone and wood, which stretched four hundred feet into the sky.

Nearby, the wide stretch of flat, sandy land was pockmarked with dozens of what looked like caverns that fell into darkness: mine shafts. The island was completely flat, without a single rise or mound, so the mine shafts were dug straight down into the earth, some of them constructed dozens of yards across. To Daylen, they looked like hungry black mouths. He could see immense structures straddling these shafts, supporting giant winches that raised and lowered wide platforms carrying carts and miners.

When the ship pulled up to the docks, Daylen saw a magnificent vessel moored nearby, a massive six-mast junk. Stretching two hundred feet from bow to stern, the hull was covered in an enormous mural carved from green jade. The mural seemed to tell a story; the history of the ship, it looked to Daylen. Several other ships, at least a dozen, were moored alongside it, and Daylen could see crewmen busy loading and unloading cargo up and down the docks.

Lao Meung noticed his fascination and said, "That is the Emerald's Might—flagship of Giang-Pei." Daylen could see portholes along the side of the ship, poking out through the mural, dragons carved into the jade in such a way that the fire cannons emerged from their open maws. The sails were emblazoned with the symbol of a clenched fist.

After the gangplank was lowered, Lao Meung said farewell to his three passengers.

"My ship will be docked here for another three days," he told them. "In case you need anything."

Su Shen nodded curtly before departing, Bei close behind her. Daylen was caught off guard; he said a quick and equally curt goodbye to their host before chasing after them.

"So...where are we headed?" he asked when he caught up with them.

"Don't you have business of your own to take care of?" Su Shen replied without looking at him.

"Well, I. um, I suppose I do.," Daylen stammered, somewhat taken aback.

"Then I suggest you do that," she said, terse. "Bei and I have our own business to attend."

They had reached the end of the dock. Daylen stopped, shocked that he was so shocked. Su Shen kept walking without looking back, heading for the giant pillared structure. Bei glanced back at him as they left, his massive shoulders shrugging apologetically.

A profound sense of rejection settled over him, and he could feel his face grow hot.

"What do I care? They got me here safely; I'm here to make money, not friends." He regained his composure and headed toward the building—consciously choosing a different entrance.

XXX

The enormous structure was the city of Giang-Pei. Four hundred feet tall and four hundred feet in diameter, it boasted twenty stories and hundreds upon hundreds of rooms. Daylen was thoroughly impressed; he passed through enchanted gardens that were being carefully attended by several Elementalists, who were busy weaving the threads of astral space, casting spells in order to keep the soil rich with nutrients. The ceiling was embedded with large magical crystals that seemed to glow with a curious white flame.

Carefully controlled by the gardeners, they shone artificial sunlight onto the plants. Although the amount of food grown in this way was significant, Daylen learned that the city of Giang-Pei, just like the other pillared cities found all throughout the desert, was reliant on merchants like Lao Meung who imported a constant supply of food and freshwater.

The city was divided into sections by level. The lowest section contained the butchers' shops, the tariff offices, and the various gardens—which were owned and operated by the merchants. Various stores, inns and taverns, administrative quarters, and temples dedicated to the Passions made up the second through fifth stories, and above those were the residential districts. The highest floors were reserved for the very wealthy, such as the merchant lords who ran the city.

There were countless broad stairways for moving between the floors, though for a few copper pieces, one could use the elemental elevators: small compartments capable of carrying up to six people that were compelled upwards or downwards by enchanted cushions of air.

After exploring the city for a couple of hours, Daylen finally found his way to an inn Named the Crooked Kuaizi. Kuaizi, he learned, was what the Cathayans called those bizarre little sticks they ate with, which, Daylen feared, he would never learn how to properly use.

After ordering a meal, he spoke with a visiting merchant and learned that the city of Giang-Pei was Named after its founders: the legendary Merchant adepts Giang Xi and Fang Pei. Giang Xi and Fang Pei were the first two Merchants to build a sand ship and tame the wild Desert of Swallowed Tears, nearly one hundred years ago, shortly after the end of the Scourge. Giang-Pei was the oldest and most successful of all the Pillared Cities.

The various cities of the desert were in competition with one another; each was ruled by a different merchant—or, more commonly, a coalition of merchants. And they all mined the same thing: True earth. This competition sometimes turned violent, and wars among the cities were not uncommon.

Daylen hoped that the merchants of Giang-Pei would be enticed by his offer to find buyers back west, who would no doubt pay more than their current Cathayan buyers, who had many cities from which to acquire the precious resource.

After finishing his roasted duck, Daylen rented a room for the night. He would have to get cleaned up before seeking an audience with any of the merchant lords. He could not afford a new robe, not without selling his kernels of True air or orichaclum box—neither of which he was prepared to do. He might be able to afford a tailor's services; however that might advertise that he was too poor to afford a new wardrobe.

No, he would wear his robe and, if asked, he would tell his harrowing story, only in his version he would be the selfless one who tore his robe to bandage the injured child.

He had paid for one of the more expensive rooms and was delighted when he found an enchanted tub of water waiting for him. With a touch, the water warmed. He knew that these tubs were enchanted with powerful thread magic that kept the water within fresh and clean. While on the one hand this comforted him, on the other it disturbed him to know that countless people had probably already used the same water to bathe themselves long before he got into it. He threw open the window and was greeted by the hot air that was blowing in off the desert. He stared at a ship's masts as it pulled away from the docks and watched as it grew smaller and smaller on the horizon.

After stepping into the warm tub, he sank until the water came up to his chin. He rested the back of his head against the tub's edge and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. The steamy water began to ease his knotted muscles. A sweet fragrance filled his nose, and Daylen suddenly realized the tub was enchanted with soothing properties. He grinned and sighed again. Once he was rich, he would have one of these built into his palace the size of a small pond.

He relaxed for a long moment, enjoying the silence. His thoughts wandered to Su Shen and her obsidiman ally. Why was she so rude? He wondered if he had done anything to offend her.

"Don't be stupid," he thought, chastising himself. "Not everything has to do with you."

She was, after all, in the middle of a war-torn country. She had no doubt seen countless, senseless deaths. He could understand how that sort of carnage could turn one's heart to stone; only witnessing a small sight of the war, he was doing everything he could to forget what he had seen in that village.

Still, it was a shame. For one so beautiful to lose herself in this pointless war seemed such a waste.

After his bath, Daylen donned his torn silk robe—making certain his contract and orichalcum box were tucked safely away in his inside pocket—and left his room, heading for the nearest elemental elevator. He got out on the fourth floor and headed for the administration quarter. He entered a small room marked as a money changer and lender's office. A young t'skrang sitting behind a small table, who Daylen assumed was the clerk, greeted him with a practiced smile.

"Have you come to exchange coins, Westerner?" he asked, motioning to a chair across the table from him. The table contained a scroll, a vial of ink and quill, a scale, and a small chest of various coins, mostly silver and gold, which the t'skrang slid closer to himself.

"Not today, friend," said Daylen, with his own most charming smile. "I have come to make your master a great deal of money."

XXX

An hour later he was in the estate of Da Xia, grandson of the great Giang Xi, on the uppermost floor of the city.

Da Xia was a t'skrang, his scales a combination of deep shades of blues and greens. He was pacing, considering what Daylen had just proposed, a glass of wine in his hand.

Daylen sat in a large, cushioned chair, a glass of wine in his hand as well, gazing about the large room with covetous eyes. Priceless works of art filled the large study. Painted bronze statues, porcelain vases, and elemental water sculptures sat on marble pedestals that ran along the walls of the room; large scrolls fell from the walls behind them, featuring images of sweeping landscapes, mountains, and bamboo forests.

He felt less nervous than he had while aboard the Mighty Sparrow. Not as much was on the line this time, he felt, and with the success of his negotiations with Ning-Xa, he also felt more confident.

Da Xia finally turned to him and said, "What you propose is risky."

Daylen, who had just taken a sip of his chilled wine, swallowed and said, "How so? You will be making a greater profit than you are now."

Da Xia shook his crested head, smiling, "No, no, you misunderstand me. It would be risky for the buyers. To travel all this way with so much gold, and then all the way back, with so much True earth. They will be the target of many who wish to relieve them of their cargo."

Daylen nodded, understanding. "Yes, but it is a risk that many of them will be willing to take," he said. "The True elements are greatly coveted where I come from."

"As they are here," Da Xia agreed. "And I have all the buyers I could possibly need."

"As I said, there are those back west who would be willing to pay whatever price you demand for such a steady supply of True earth." Daylen already had other ideas. While he could find a buyer back in Barsaive, he was sure; it occurred to him that once he delivered the windlings to Ning-Xa, he would have enough for a shipment of True earth. He could rent an airship and have it delivered to a buyer back in Barsaive. He looked around again at the treasures in the room and imagined his own study, twice as large and twice as lavish.

The t'skrang merchant lord thought about it for another moment, staring into his glass, as if trying to divine an answer from its contents.

Finally he looked up and said, "I am willing to make the deal. If they arrive with the gold, I will sell it to them, if they outbid my current buyers. However, I will not set any aside for them until they arrive. This may mean that, depending on when they do, they may have to wait for some time before I have mined enough to fill their hold. But once I know they are trustworthy, I can then begin setting aside a consistent amount for their shipments."

Daylen felt as though his face would split apart from his grin. Quite satisfied, he set his glass of wine on the desk before him and stood, extending his hand.

"We have a deal."

Back at the inn, he ordered a large meal of rice and pork with more wine. He could afford it; he would be leaving Cathay now. After six months of dead ends and failed negotiations, his perseverance finally paid off. He would begin the long journey home, and by this time next year, he would be a wealthy man.

He was halfway finished with his dinner when Su Shen and Bei entered the inn. Daylen saw them first; for a moment he almost called them over, but then he remembered how Su Shen had blown him off earlier, and kept quiet instead.

They stood in the doorway for a moment, scanning the inn until their eyes fell upon him. He was surprised when they began making their way to his table.

Without asking, Su Shen sat across from him. Bei sat cross-legged on the floor, and Daylen suddenly wondered what the world would be like if it had been designed for obsidimen.

"Daylen Jagaro," Su Shen said. "We need your assistance."

Daylen casually wiped the duck grease off the corners of his mouth with the cloth napkin they had provided him with his meal.

He set it down and sighed, taking a more relaxed position in his seat.

He gazed at her for a moment before saying, "Is that right?"

Su Shen nodded. "We need to procure a ship in order to search for Zen-Jan."

"Oh?"

"His ship went missing," she continued. "We know what his last destination was. We intend to search there."

Daylen laughed, "From what I've seen of this desert, his ship is probably beneath the sands."

"Nevertheless," Su Shen responded, "he is our only lead. We must try."

"Look," Daylen shook his head, "I don't have a ship, and I'm leaving this place tomorrow."

"You have money," she said simply.

"That's right, I do. But this doesn't sound like a smart investment."

Su Shen stared at him for a moment with her piercing green eyes.

"By the Passions she's beautiful," Daylen could not help but think. All the hardness of her face could not disguise that fact.

Finally she said, "My order will compensate you."

Daylen had not considered that; his entrepreneurial instincts took over, and he said, "With interest."

Su Shen nodded. "Of course."

Daylen nodded in return, satisfied. Then he said, "I think I know the man for the job."

They found Lao Meung on his ship, still moored where it had arrived that morning.

"You wish for me to take you on this errand?" He cackled, running his tongue across the front of his yellow teeth. "I know what his ship looks like; if anyone can find it, it's me."

"How much?" Daylen cut to the point.

"Ten gold."

Daylen felt a sudden loss of confidence. He looked at Su Shen, who was staring at him expectantly.

"She better be good for it." He thought.

"Agreed," he said, reaching for his pouch.

As he counted the coins, he thought about the profit he would make from Su Shen. He would charge her two hundred percent. A twenty gold piece profit sounded fair; after all, they would be stuck in this desert if it weren't for him.

"We'll cast off tomorrow morning," Lao Meung instructed, after the last coin fell into his pouch.

This was a smart deal, he told himself. Twenty gold pieces, plus he got to explore more of the desert. He convinced himself that's why he agreed to it. He ignored the fact that, after he returned to his room and lay down on his bed, all he could think about were Su Shen's eyes.

CHAPTER 4

Dawn had just broken through the night, bleeding its deep red colors across the sky, when Daylen met them at the ship. The cool night air was already beginning to grow warm; he took a deep breath as it washed across him, blowing in off the quiet desert sands that shifted gently with the breeze.

Daylen was so caught up in the moment that just for an instant he felt that life was perfect. It saddened him in a way, knowing that the moment would pass. He gazed out over the gently swaying desert, smiling as the approaching sun caused sparkles to dance across its bobbing surface.

Su Shen and Bei stood quietly nearby, Bei's fingers flexing about the handle of his great, two-bladed sword. Neither of them were looking at him, focusing instead on the gangplank, where Lao Meung suddenly appeared, a yellow scarf tied around his neck and a wide brimmed straw hat sitting low on his head.

"It's about time you got here!" He cackled. "We're just getting ready to cast off; you had better climb aboard." Without another word, the old man vanished behind the rail.

Su Shen turned and walked stiffly up the ramp, followed by Bei. Daylen took one last look at the rising sun and turned to follow, saying goodbye to his perfect moment.

A few hours later the sun was a burning ball of flame overhead, and the ship cut like a knife through the smooth sands. Daylen was resting his elbows on the rail near the stern of the ship, staring at the ship's wake as it rippled gently outward. He was grateful they had not encountered any of the freak storms that had so terrified him the day before. Of course, he had not forgotten that they appeared quickly and without much warning, which left him with a small knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

He glanced over his shoulder toward the bow of the ship, where Su Shen and Bei stood, staring out over the approaching horizon. He could see her lips moving, and he wondered what they were talking about. Ever since they cast off, she had not bothered to speak to him. It came as no surprise, really, but for some reason it still bothered him.

There was nothing to be seen in any direction but more of the desert. Lao Meung had assured them that he was following Zen-Jan's last known course. Daylen took his word for it. He had to; all directions looked the same to him.

Daylen saw a couple sailors cleaning the fire cannon that was bolted to the deck about ten feet from where he was standing. Shaped into the likeness of a dragon, the cannon could swivel three hundred and sixty degrees to fire in any direction. He had overheard Lao Meung talking about the dangers of sand pirates in this region of the desert. He watched as the sailors checked to make certain the orichalcum-lined containers near the cannon were stocked with kernels of True air and True fire. He understood the mechanics: the kernels were first loaded into separate chambers within the cannon, then to fire, a string was pulled that lifted the barrier dividing the two chambers. Once the kernels touched, they exploded into a magnificent fireball. The shape of the cannon forced the ball of flame down the hollow tube and out the open end toward the target, the directed energy hurtling it out at great velocities.

He had seen fire cannons in action before, even witnessing a battle between two rival t'skrang houses—called aropagoi—back in Barsaive. The great wheel driven ships hurtled dozens of fireballs back and forth along the swift moving waters of the Serpent River. From where he had stood on the bank, he had seen more than one ship—and their crews—reduced to smoldering ruins.

He wondered how many kernels of True air and True fire were in those specially constructed containers, and wondered about how much silver it was all worth. His hand absently touched his breast, and he could feel his own meager treasure hidden in his robe. His kernels of True air would be worth only one shot each, and only if added to a kernel of True fire. He thought about how expensive each shot from a fire cannon must be, and felt a little light-headed when he thought about how many fire cannons were aboard some of the larger Cathayan warships.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" A familiar voice said behind him. He turned and saw Lao Meung standing there, looking at the cannon.

"We call her Hell's Teeth," he was saying, "and she's saved us all from more than one dire situation."

"Do you think we'll need it?" Daylen found himself asking.

Lao Meung shrugged his bony shoulders and said, "Hard to say. If we keep on in this direction and don't find him, we'll pass near Nang Xoiu."

Daylen thought he saw a glimmer of fear in the old man's eyes.

"What's Nang Xoiu?" He asked.

The old man looked at him. "It is a cursed place, once the mightiest of all the Pillared Cities. Condemned by the Passions, it is a testimony to the dangers and folly of hubris."

Though it was clear to Daylen that Lao Meung viewed the city with fear and superstition, he felt the need to understand why.

"What happened?"

The old man looked away, staring out across the desert, before answering.

"The city was founded by Cao Hong, a merchant lord who once worked with Giang Xi and Fang Pei in the city of Giang-Pei. He betrayed them and constructed his own Pillared City. Over time, his ruthless tactics made him very wealthy and very powerful, and soon his greed sent him to war with the other merchant lords.

"But the Passions punished him; they stripped his island of True earth, leaving him without a source of profit. Unable to pay for their loyalty, he began to lose his allies. The ships of Giang Xi and Fang Pei finally caught up with him, and after a great battle, sent Cao Hong to the bottom of the desert sea."

Daylen nodded slowly, and then asked, "But why do you fear the city?"

"It was cursed by the Passions! Did you not hear me? It is bad luck to even pass within sight of it. I doubt Zen-Jan would have come near its shores, but I will tempt fate and pass by if we see no sign of him by the time we reach it."

He could tell the idea did not sit well with the aged sailor.

"Do you think we'll find him?" Daylen asked.

"I can make no promises. This desert is the grave for many sailors and many ships. And Nang Xoiu isn't the only abandoned city. There are many, and most are homes to pirates or worse.much, much worse."

Worse?

Lao Meung stood in silence for a moment, then stared over at Su Shen and Bei, who still stood together at the other end of the deck.

"What do you suppose they want with my old friend, Zen-Jan, anyway?" Lao Meung asked without looking at him.

Daylen shrugged, feigning ignorance. He did not quite trust the merchant, who seemed too cunning by far to be trusted. Knowing what they were searching for would hardly be something he could use against them; but still, the less he knew of their affairs the better, as far as Daylen was concerned.

Not seeing his shrug, Lao Meung turned towards him, awaiting an answer.

"I do not know," Daylen said, lying. "I am helping them because they promised to pay me. It's not really my concern what they want with some missing merchant."

Lao Meung studied him for a moment, his familiar grin slowly creeping onto his face. He nodded, and Daylen felt like the old buzzard could see right through his deception. He looked away, not accepting the challenge presented by the old man's stare. He could feel him looking at the back of his head a moment longer, but he pretended not to notice. A sigh of relief escaped him when the old man finally wandered off.

The hours slowly passed, and the day eventually faded away into night. The black night sky was clear and dotted with stars. The air grew cool, the moon casting its pale, cold glow upon the ship's deck.

Daylen sensed that a more somber mood had settled on the crew. The sailors were silent, their eyes fixed on the horizon with apprehension.

Lao Meung approached him and said, "We are nearing Nang Xoiu."

Just a short while later he saw it: the silhouette of a small rocky island with a large, pillared city on the horizon. Sheer cliffs made the shore. Keeping his distance, Lao Meung steered the ship around the tiny island. Once they cleared the tall black cliffs, they saw it; by the network of docks, stranded and tilted over, was a large three-mast ship.

"That is Zen-Jan's ship," Lao Meung muttered. Before he had even said as much, Daylen knew that it would be.

"Of course it is," he thought wearily.

"Is that it? Is that his ship?" asked Su Shen, as she and the obsi-diman approached. Lao Meung nodded grimly.

"It ran aground, it seems. Probably in a storm; Zen-Jan was never good at navigating through them."

The ship turned slowly toward the docks. The apprehension aboard the ship grew thick, except with Su Shen, who looked at the approaching island with eagerness flashing in her eyes.

"I am not certain about this," said Lao Meung. "This place was the source of much bloodshed and cursed by the Passions for it. Memories of dark deeds attract dark things."

Su Shen looked at him. "You mean Horrors." Bei smirked at the thought.

Horrors.

The word sent a chill down Daylen's neck, tickling his flesh and causing him to shiver involuntarily.

Horrors: the demonic entities that came from the deepest, darkest bowels of astral space. The magic of the world was not constant. It fluctuated like a pendulum, waxing and waning over thousands upon thousands of years. Whenever the cycle of magic was at its peak, the barrier between the physical world and astral space weakens, allowing the twisted and malevolent beings known as the Horrors to pour across, devouring all in their path.

The last of these dark times, known as the Scourge, lasted roughly five hundred years, during which the races of the world were forced to hide deep underground, sealed in magically protected fortresses called kaers. Sealed from the rest of the world, entire civilizations hid in these kaers until the magical cycle weakened, forcing the Horrors to flee screaming back into astral space.

But not all of them were gone. In the dark places of the earth some remained; brooding, thinking their dark thoughts, filled with hatred and vile desires, they preyed upon the unwary, delighting in the suffering they inflicted.

The Horrors came in all shapes and sizes, Daylen knew. Some were small while others were large; some were twisted abominations, others angelic in appearance; some were beastly and driven only by instinct, while others were sophisticated and cunning. But no matter what they looked like, all were driven by the same need: the need to cause pain.

"Yes," Lao Meung said in reply to Su Shen, "Horrors." Su Shen looked away, not responding. The thought did not seem to trouble her. Even Bei, with his smirk still on his lips, seemed to welcome a confrontation.

"I'm traveling with madmen," Daylen concluded with a mutter.

The ship slid next to the dock and dropped anchor. When the gangplank dropped, Lao Meung turned to Su Shen and said, "You had best hurry. My men don't enjoy being this close to the island. Most of them think we're already doomed. If you take too long, I don't know what they might do."

"We won't be long," Su Shen said simply and turned to walk down to the dock, Bei her ever present shadow.

Daylen almost did not follow; he would be no use to them. Besides, they acted as if he was not even there half the time anyway.

After a moment of struggling with his cowardice, his curiosity got the better of him, and he ran down after them.

The docks were broken in some places, and Daylen could see through the gaps to the sand below. The moonlight gave him a clear view, and he watched, fascinated as it pulsed beneath him like some living thing.

He hurried after Su Shen and Bei, who were already near the end of the dock, listening warily as the wooden planks groaned beneath his steps.

They arrived at the ship, its tall hull looming above them, its anchor dropped on the shore. Derelict, it sat in a grim silence, the sandy waves lapping gently against its crooked hull.

Without a word, Su Shen began deftly pulling herself up the chain attached to the anchor, followed closely by Bei. Daylen stared after them, unsure of what to do.

"Um...okay, I'll just wait here then," he called.

A moment later they were up and over, vanished from view. Daylen exhaled sharply and looked around. From here he could see the glow of lanterns on Lao Meung's ship, looking like dozens of small glowing orbs floating against the dark silhouette of the vessel. He looked up toward the city. The land sloped upwards at a steep angle from the shore, stretching away a few hundred yards and rising at least one hundred feet. From here, the city was nothing but a dark shadow silhouetted by the night sky.

The breeze suddenly stirred, and Daylen thought he saw a motion out of the corner of his eye. He spun, his heart leaping in his chest, but he saw nothing.

"Shadows are the greatest illusion," he thought to himself. It was something an Illusionist adept Named Emsha from Bartertown would sometimes say. An old friend, the two of them would often share a drink at the Juggling Shadowmant, an inn just off of Silk Lane. He wondered what she was doing at that moment, suddenly feeling homesick.

Daylen was never the type to seek out adventure. He had traveled across Barsaive and even throughout the Theran Empire, sure, but he had never strayed too far from the established trade routes and sea lanes before.

This trip to Cathay was the riskiest venture he had embarked upon, and even it had been driven by desperation. He was not used to straying off the beaten path, and his gnawing anxiety was testimony to that fact.

Minutes passed, and finally Su Shen and Bei reappeared, climbing agilely down the anchor's chain and dropping deftly into the sand.

Su Shen said to him, "The ship is empty. There is no sign of the crew."

"Cargo?" Daylen heard himself ask, wondering how much of it Lao Meung would allow him to keep if they could not find the missing Merchant.

"No cargo," she said.

Without waiting for a response, she began walking up the slope toward the ruins. Bei and Daylen followed.

The sand was thick, and it dragged at Daylen's soft boots. By the time they reached the top of the slope, he felt slightly winded, despite being used to long travels by foot. When they finally arrived at the great structure, Daylen could not help but gape.

Nang Xoiu was much larger than Giang-Pei, though it was already beginning to crumble into ruin, left in disrepair for so long. A somber silence brooded over its bones, which thrust up into the sky at least five hundred feet. Standing at its base and looking up to the top floors made Daylen dizzy.

Su Shen led them to a tall archway—a gateway to the city—its once proud wooden doors left hanging open. They stepped inside and were greeted by an inky blackness. Daylen peered into the gloom. The darkness was a confusing weave of shapes and shadows.

Bei produced a torch from his pack and with a few strikes of his flint and steel had its tip ablaze. A long, broad hall lined with merchant shops was revealed before them. Bei handed the torch to Su Shen, who had requested it with an extended hand, and they began down the wide avenue, Su Shen and Bei in the lead, with Daylen creeping just behind, his eyes wide, trying to peer into every darkened corner.

They slowly made their way through the city, floor by floor, taking the stairs as the magic that had enchanted the elemental elevators had long been drained.

The city was dead, abandoned, and silent. Nothing moved. There were no rats, not even insects. It had been ransacked, that much was clear. Shop doors were busted and splintered, stone support columns shattered and broken, sections of floors collapsed—spilling wood and stone into scattered piles. Thin cracks ran across the walls and floors—which were carefully avoided by Bei.

But it was also evident that when the city had lived it had been great; there were wide gardens and indoor fountains made from marble, most of which had been chipped away by looters. The various levels of the cities boasted countless shops—now empty—and hundreds upon hundreds of rooms for its citizens. The indoor elemental gardens, now devoid of their life-giving crystals, were twice the size of those found in Giang-Pei.

Daylen could almost hear the ghosts of Nang Xoiu's former residents as they marched through the halls and across the broad avenues, conducting business and going about their daily lives. The thought of such a mighty hub of capitalism brought so low was sad in a way, though any pity Daylen may have felt for its former residents was overshadowed by the fear creeping up his spine.

Countless empty window frames passed them by, each spilling out into the night sky, through which poured the soft glow of the full moon.

Daylen could hear their footsteps echo quietly through the empty halls, and he thought for a certainty that they were much louder than they had a right to be. He noticed that his heart was pounding in his chest so hard that he could feel it in his throat. He took a deep breath to steady himself, looking reassuringly at Bei's enormous double-bladed sword and wondering why he had a right to feel so ill at ease.

He wondered again about the Horrors. The Therans had saved the Western world from the Scourge by devising how to construct the magical kaers that sustained so many people throughout the Scourge. He had heard that in Cathay, it was the great dragons that had saved the people by constructing lairs, very similar in design to the Western kaers.

It was not a surprise to Daylen that such a thing was possible.

After all, the Western great dragons had attempted to do as much for some of the people who had managed to somehow gain their help. But the dragons were stopped by the greed of Thera, who sent her mighty airships to attack, waging war against the great wyrms. In the end, the dragons and Thera had called a truce, but the damage had been done—the Western dragons no longer sought to help the so-called Younger Races.

However, in the East, the relationship between the Younger Races and the great dragons was different. The Cathayans revered the dragons, which were seen as their lords and protectors; unlike the West, where dragons were to be avoided at all costs.

But the kaers and the dragon lairs were all far away; Daylen felt exposed here, in this abandoned, crippled city.

"You're being foolish. Like a child afraid of the dark," he chastised himself.

Daylen did his best to dismiss his fears, keeping close to Su Shen and Bei, the three huddling in the small ring of light provided by their one flickering torch.

When they reached the uppermost floor, Su Shen stopped suddenly; her eyes wide, her head cocked to the side as if listening intently.

"What is it?" asked Bei, his lowered voice a deep pitch, like the growl of a lion.

Su Shen shook her head. "I'm not sure, I thought I heard—,"

She spun suddenly, torch in hand, sending long shadows dancing across the walls. Then he heard it—footfalls echoing down the long avenue. Bei gripped his sword in both hands and fell into a ready stance. Daylen felt his heart skip in his chest and wished suddenly that he had a weapon, as useless as it would be in his hands.

"This way," Su Shen whispered and was off, darting down the hall, Bei just behind her. Daylen flung himself after them, his steps clumsy and loud compared to their swift and silent strides.

"Whatever that was will hear me long before we arrive," Daylen thought, cursing himself again for not being an adept.

They rounded a corner, and Daylen saw several figures at the far end of the new corridor. They stood before a tall shattered window, framed by the full moon beyond them. Once in view, the shapes melted away like shadows in the darkness. Su Shen and Bei threw themselves into pursuit; Daylen struggled to keep up.

None of them saw the others until they were surrounded.

The doors that ran alongside of them down the corridor, leading to the once grand estates, suddenly flew open, and out poured dozens of armed figures, their steel weapons winking in the moonlight. At the far end of the corridor, the figures that they pursued reappeared, now that their trap had been sprung.

One of them closest to Bei roared and lunged forward with his spear.

"No, wait!" Daylen absently heard someone yell.

It was too late. The spear thrust at Bei's throat, the willow-leaf shaped head gleaming wickedly in the moonlight. Bei sidestepped and slapped the spearhead aside contemptuously, as one might slap an annoying insect, and came back with the same hand, swinging his mighty fist like one would swing a hammer, delivering a powerful blow to the bridge of the figure's nose. The man crumpled noiselessly, his nose a shattered, bloody mess.

With one quick movement, Su Shen tossed the torch into her free hand and suddenly had her long, slender blade free of its scabbard, colorful red tassels hanging from its pommel. She stepped backwards into a deep stance, holding her torch out in front of her like a shield. Her sword arm flew up, the blade running alongside her temple, pointing forward like a shimmering fang. Bei grabbed his sword in both hands, and while twirling it stepped backwards, closer to Su Shen. And then the two were standing there, back to back, composed and ready.

"Stop! Stop! I said stop!" The voice cried again, and the figures did stop, though they did not lower their weapons, continuing to eye the three strangers apprehensively.

Daylen suddenly realized that they were all men—sailors. Most of them were human, though he saw a few scattered elves and dwarfs among them as well. One of them stepped forward, an older human whose graying hair fell about a long, slender face that was dominated by a sharp, hawk-like nose. His eyes were wide with wonder as they fixed upon Su Shen and Bei.

"Please!" He pleaded to them. "We are not your enemy!" Then he turned to his men and yelled, "Do you hear me? Look at them! They are not our enemy!"

Slowly, the assembled men began to relax and lower their weapons. Su Shen and Bei followed suit. After her blade was returned to its sheath, Su Shen walked over to the fallen man, who still lay on his back, his chest covered in his own blood. He looked up at her and tried to say something, but choked on his own blood, coughing it out in a red spray.

"Don't try to speak," she told him. He obeyed, and she laid her hand gently over his ruined nose.

The others gathered around, watching in silent fascination. A moment later the bleeding had stopped and the shattered bones of his nose were knitted. He smiled up at her, his face full of wonder, and Daylen was surprised to see that she was smiling warmly back at the man. It was the first time he had seen her do so, and he found that it was infectious, as he was smiling in response.

"You're a Daughter of Heaven," the hawk-nosed man said to her. She helped the man whom she had just healed to his feet, and said, "Yes. I am Su Shen, and this is Bei of the Jade Brotherhood."

Daylen did not let it bother him that she neglected him. Not only was he used to her ignoring him by now, but the excitement of the last few moments had yet to wear off.

Confused, the man asked, "What are you doing on this island?"

"We have come in search of the merchant Zen-Jan."

The man's mouth tugged itself into a smile, and he said, "I am Zen-Jan!"

Su Shen and Bei turned fully towards him, and the looks on their faces caused the merchant's smile to falter.

"You're Zen-Jan?" Su Shen asked, a hardness to her voice.

"Y-Yes," he stammered, taking an involuntary step backwards.

"You have information that we need regarding a string of kidnappings in Tiet Dei."

As the situation slowly dawned on him, Zen-Jan laughed, incredulous. "You mean to say that you two came all this way just to arrest me?"

"Only if we need to," was her answer.

Zen-Jan shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"You are fools," he said finally, motioning to his men. "I could just as easily have you killed right now."

"Try it," said Bei, a welcoming grin on his face.

Daylen counted Zen-Jan's men quickly; there were thirty seven in all, and they had them surrounded. Even for two experienced adepts, the odds were not good.

Zen-Jan licked his lips. Su Shen's hand wrapped around her sword pommel; ready to tear it free from her scabbard. The men around them tensed.

"On the other hand," said Zen-Jan, making an effort to sound nonchalant, "if you escort me and my men safely off this accursed island, I will tell you all you want to know."

Su Shen studied him carefully for a moment before asking, "How did you come about this place?"

Zen-Jan gave a rueful shake of his head. "It was five days ago. I wanted to make time back to Giang-Pei, so I cut near this accursed place. A storm came out of nowhere and forced us onto the beach."

"Why have you yet to try and leave?"

A bitter sound escaped Zen-Jan's lips. "You don't think we would have tried? They won't let us."

"They?" It was Bei who asked.

Zen-Jan nodded. "There were sixty eight of us when we crashed ashore. We made for the city, to see what we could find—maybe something of use, maybe something worth a profit. They came swarming out of the night. Those who tried to go back to the ship were lost. They herded us, you see; herded us here, where they've been slowly picking us off one by one."

"Who are they?" Daylen asked, already dreading the answer.

"The Horrors," came his reply.

Of course.

Daylen squeezed his eyes shut and then slowly opened them. Why should he be surprised? Just when his life was turning around, it only made sense that he would meet his end on an island in the middle of the most inhospitable terrain the world had ever known.

No one would know what had ever become of him; he would die, forgotten, and he would be perhaps a footnote in his cousin Valen's stories. "Whatever happened to that worthless cousin of mine?" he would ask.

"Why haven't you been able to get to your ship?" asked Su Shen, seeming untroubled by the news.

"I told you; they keep us here. When we try to leave, they attack. But we are starving, and we are running low on fresh water. We have to try, and you two may as well help us; it is unlikely they will just let you three leave, now that you are here."

Su Shen stood silently for a moment. Daylen saw her exchange a look with Bei, who gave a barely discernible nod. It was lost on the others, but as a merchant, Daylen was trained to see what others often did not. Even Zen-Jan, who Daylen would have guessed to be as shrewd as he sounded, was too busy wrestling his own fears to see it.

"Very well," she said, coolly. "We have a ship waiting for us at the docks."

With that, she turned to leave.

"Wait!" Zen-Jan called, alarmed. "We can't go now. It's dark outside; they'll be waiting. We'll stand a better chance in the daylight."

Su Shen turned back to face him. "We have no choice. Our ship will not wait forever for us." There was a finality to her voice, one Daylen recognized from his countless years of haggling—take it or leave it.

Zen-Jan's mouth hung open stupidly, searching for a compelling argument. He looked around helplessly, and then he finally sighed, nodding his head in defeat.

"But we must tread carefully," he warned.

The sailors exchanged looks with one another, each sharing the same dreadful fear. Daylen could sympathize.

They traveled through the dark city in silence— as much as a pack of forty people could keep—a single burning torch leading the way. Daylen kept behind Su Shen and Bei, who were in the lead, his eyes scanning the dark, his ears second guessing every foot scrape.

When they finally made it outside, they were greeted by the full light of the moon. Daylen was aware of the sailors' mood growing more fearful. Some were trembling like leaves in the wind.

"There! Up there, look!" One of them suddenly yelled.

Daylen looked at him and saw that he was staring upward, his face drawn with fear. He followed his gaze, and there, far above them atop the abandoned city of Nang Xoiu, Daylen saw a shape looming against the moon just before it dropped into darkness, vanishing from sight.

"They are here! They are here already!" Zen-Jan was crying. Fear rippled through the crowd. Daylen saw that Zen-Jan was beginning to tremble violently, a fatalistic terror alive in his eyes.

"Calm yourselves!" yelled Bei, his voice deep and commanding. Some seemed to take comfort from the large Warrior, but others were starting to move faster toward the beach, just barely containing their urge to break out into a dead sprint.

"Rally to me!" said the giant, twirling his great double-bladed sword with experienced ease, his eyes scanning the darkness. Some did as he commanded, but Daylen saw that their tight circle was beginning to fall apart.

"I saw something, atop the city," Daylen said to Su Shen, "It dropped down and—,"

Something fiendish cackled in the darkness.

Everyone stopped. For a moment, there was a silence so quiet that it was deafening. And then one of the sailors screamed.

A shapeless shadow emerged from the darkness and vanished again, taking one of the sailors—a dwarf—with it. Daylen only caught a glimpse—something large and sinister.

An eruption of panic ensued. The sailors began running madly for the shore. Only Su Shen, Bei, and Daylen remained; Daylen only because he did not know what else to do.

"Come!" Bei yelled at him, and the three began running down the sandy slope, quickly overtaking the scattered sailors. Daylen glanced back over his shoulder and his heart seized in his chest. He saw a great roiling mass of darkness behind him, a swarm of beastly creatures.

They appeared suddenly all around them—striking from the shadows and erupting from the sands. They were as tall as large men, just over six feet in height—but they did not look like men. They resembled something close to great spiders with chitenous bodies like crustaceans. Some had great, clasping pincers, others large, clamping mandibles. All of them were as black as pitch, a darkness so deep it seemed to swallow the light.

They made an awful clicking sound as they moved, all of them together creating a frightful din. To Daylen, it sounded like the creatures were laughing.

Click click click click click click click.

One of the sailors screamed as he was lifted high in the air, a horrible dark limb pierced through his back and punching out of his abdomen. The creature spun and disappeared in the night, carrying his screaming, squirming victim like some gruesome trophy.

Click click click click click click click.

Another sailor, an elf, tried in vain to fight one off as it came for him; with a swipe, his sword arm below the elbow went flying through the air in a red spray. He was still screaming when the creature bit his head with its enormous mandibles. With a twist, it tore his skull free from his body, leaving only his lower jaw.

Click click click click click click click.

One by one they fell. Daylen saw grown men screaming in fear and terror, their limbs sundered, bowels spilled open. He watched as Bei charged across the sands at the nearest creature, his sword gleaming in the moonlight. It reared up in challenge. Bei threw himself forward with a roar, his blade severing the one of the creature's legs in half. It fell, screaming and kicking in the sand. Bei ended it with the tip of his sword deep between its two baleful eyes.

One attempted to cut Su Shen in half with its claw, but she leapt gracefully into the air, folding herself tightly into a ball, flipping forward and landing on its arm. Her slender blade twinkled in the night just before sliding through one of the creature's eyes. It shuddered and fell, forever still.

More men fell, the creatures' talons finding and ripping flesh at every turn. Daylen could not tell how many remained. Everywhere was red red red.

Click click click click click click click.

They were being hemmed in, Daylen suddenly realized. The sand was thick, and he tripped, tumbling down the slope several yards and eating a mouthful of sand. He looked up directly into the eyes of one the monsters. It tilted its head, studying him, and though it had no mouth, Daylen could see mirth behind those glassy eyes.

It raised one of its legs, which ended in a wicked barb, and Daylen saw his life ending. And suddenly, Bei was there, powerful and swift, his blade a blur. The creature, wounded from several cuts, slashed Bei in the thigh. It opened wide, and the Warrior staggered. Daylen watched as the obsidiman's blood, viscous, blue, and gray, oozed out of the wound. He had never seen obsidiman blood before.

He would have to make a note of it in his journal.

Bei collapsed onto his back, one hand clasped over the laceration. The Horror, sensing the kill, lunged. Bei rolled out of the way just in time, the barbed leg piercing the sand. He rolled back, bringing his sword up and underneath its jaw. It collapsed, falling on top of him. Daylen could hear Bei groan in protest.

Click click click click cli—

The cacophony stopped abruptly. Daylen looked around him and saw the Horrors retreating, melting away into the night, leaving behind a gruesome scene of carnage.

The survivors stopped suddenly, in a daze, unsure of what to expect next. Su Shen was at Bei's side, and with a great effort, she managed to move the corpse of the dead Horror just enough for him to slide out. She laid her hands over his injury, and after a moment, the bleeding had stopped.

A great, low wailing echoed across the island, reverberating through the night like mournful thunder. They all gazed toward the source of the sound—toward the city. Moonlight presented the scene: an abomination lumbered towards them. It was like the others, only much greater in size, at least ten feet tall and twenty feet wide, with two great yellow eyes, sickly and vile. They narrowed menacingly, and within them Daylen could see an ancient hatred of all things mortal.

With a speed belying its size, the Horror sped suddenly forward, its multiple legs twitching across the sands.

"Run!" Daylen saw that it was Zen-Jan who screamed, and he was inclined to agree. Even Su Shen and Bei thought it was a good idea. They all ran down the slope toward the beach, the great demonic beast gaining close behind.

When they arrived at the docks, Daylen drew in a sharp breath and felt his heart drop—dread sinking its icy fingers into him.

The ship was gone.

CHAPTER 5

She was meditating, trying to focus her mind, but the thoughts kept coming. The thoughts of the past; the thoughts of her birth. She had just been born; released into this world. The storm cleared, and she just was. Fully grown, like all of her kind when they were born, naked and alone. She had wandered for some time, and then they found her. Men. Rough men. Mounted on tall, ill-tempered war horses and armed for war. Butchers' work. They were mercenaries. She approached them, innocently, new to the world. And they took advantage. With leering smiles and sinister laughs, they took her. She could still see their grins in the dark, and feel their rough hands on her skin. She remembered the smell of their breath, soured from alcohol, hot on her face.

There were too many of them. She could not escape. She never slept. They barely let her rest. She was their prisoner, meant for their pleasure and their amusement. But they had taught her a valuable lesson: Name-givers were not to be trusted. Name-givers were vile and evil, weak and cowardly, petty and cruel. There was no good to be found in them, unless it served their own self interests to appear so. When she finally escaped, she had stumbled into the arms of her new patrons. They took her in. They saw her fear and mistrust and were pleased. They taught her their philosophy. They taught her how to turn her fear into anger, and her anger into power. They called her the Sorceress; she had an affinity for magic. It lived within her soul. She quickly outclassed her mentors, advancing in Circles faster than any of the others. Her aptitude and skills did not go unnoticed by those above, and soon she was granted her own cell and her own mission.

But first, she would have her revenge. She spent a year tracking the mercenary group, and she finally caught up with them in the Kingdom of For Dei. She used her powerful magic to kill them all. Painfully. The ones who had been the most cruel to her suffered the most twisted and painful of her spells. It was delightfully cruel, and the memory of their screams still made her shudder in ecstasy. After her pleasure, she proceeded with her mission. She was told where it was. Here, in the Dragon Spine Mountains. This is where it was hidden long ago, and it was her job to find it.

She opened her eyes. It was no use; she would get no meditation done today. Not when they were this close. It would be found any day now; she could feel it. She stood. She was in a small room carved out of the rock. They were in an old mine, abandoned long ago. There was only one town nearby, in the forested foothills, and it was theirs. They had hired a mercenary company—the Soldiers of Midnight they called themselves—and taken over.

There was no worry of reprisal from the king's armies; the surrounding region had long ago been abandoned to bandits and warlords. For the most part, the townsfolk did not care whose rule they were under; it was all the same to them. As long as they lived in relative safety and had food in their bellies, they did not complain. Her cell had purchased many slaves for the work. She could hear them now; their pickaxes rang whenever they met stone. They were expensive, the mercenaries and the slaves. But their patron was powerful and wealthy. And this was important.

She crossed the room to a simple wooden desk and lifted the simple glass globe that sat atop of it. Her divination had revealed to her that it was close. She had narrowed it down to one chamber, where all of the slaves were focusing their efforts. It frustrated her that she could not narrow its exact location down. She was growing impatient.

She set the globe back down and left the room, down a dimly lit hall to a much larger chamber. They were there. Her minions. A human, tall, muscular, and fierce. He was a killer. A Warrior adept who lived for the death of his enemies. And there was a dwarf. His body was covered in tattoos of various Cathayan words. He was sickly and skinny, his flesh hanging off of his bones, but yet he was a powerful Elementalist. And then there was Wang Yeh, the jade obsidiman, his dark, glossy skin casting back the flaming orange light of the torches set into the walls. They stood when she entered. She smiled. She was glad they feared her.

"Sorceress," said Wang Yeh, bowing deeply. She was about to speak when a human mercenary bursted in. His Name was Hufa. She remembered all of their Names. Names were power.

"Mistress," said the mercenary, bowing. "Ai Ren wishes to speak with you."

She looked to the obsidiman. "See what he wants." Her voice was angelic. Smooth. Gliding through the air like music.

Wang Yeh bowed, and he and the mercenary rushed out of the room. She turned to the others but said nothing. They were entertaining themselves with a game of bone dice. She liked the way her presence made them feel uncomfortable. She watched as they squirmed uneasily under her gaze. And then there was a great yell from down the hall followed by the sounds of fighting. Were the slaves trying to escape again?

She had made a robe from the flesh of the last slaves who tried to escape and wore it in front of the others for several weeks. Surely they did not already forget the lesson? Then again, they did just get new slaves. Perhaps they needed to learn the same lesson.

"Come with me," she said to the other two, and she turned and glided out of the door.

CHAPTER 6

They gathered on the dock. Daylen figured they were about a dozen or so altogether, though he did not stop to count.

The creature, dark and terrible, hesitated where the dock met the shore. Its body, fat and bloated, would not fit onto the thin strip of rotting planks.

"Maybe we'll be okay," Daylen allowed the hope to flare inside him. It ended abruptly a moment later when one of the sailors mis-stepped, slipping into one of the many holes in the dock. With a terrified scream, he vanished, swallowed by the hungry waves. The other sailors surged back from the hole as if the desert might swell up through it and take them as well. One of them knocked into Daylen. It caught him off guard, and he fell back. He stepped backwards to catch his balance. Terror gripped him when his foot found empty space, and then he was falling, his arms flailing uselessly.

It was Bei who caught him, seizing his shoulder. Daylen clutched at his arm needlessly —it was as solid as a tree. Bei hoisted him back onto the dock.

"Watch your step," said Bei with a slight grin. Daylen took a couple steps away from the edge, clutching his chest, feeling his heart skipping rapidly within. He nodded his thanks to the stony giant.

Then, at the end of the dock, the Horror raised one of its tall, thick legs and brought it down with a great smash. The wooden planks exploded in a shower of splinters. Daylen could see a shockwave rippling down toward them. The entire dock swayed and buckled. One of the sailors too close to the edge lost his footing and fell soundlessly into the sand. It accepted him eagerly with a great slurp.

The Horror raised its leg again, high against the starry background. Daylen braced for the impact, even though he was sure the dock would not survive the blow. He looked to Su Shen, who stared with grim determination at the Horror, her blade fixed in her hand, gore dripping from its pointed tip.

The leg poised for a moment at its zenith, and suddenly there was a deafening roar of thunder.

A sizzling ball of fire sailed over Daylen's head, burning so hot that he could feel the heat singe his hair. It rocketed through the air and crashed into the Horror's face, engulfing it in burning orange flame. The creature faltered, stumbling drunkenly sideways, its face wreathed in hungry, roiling flames, before finally collapsing on its side, its head a smoldering, ruined wreck.

They turned and saw Lao Meung on the deck of his ship, now looming high above them. He was waving, a grin splitting his face in two. Daylen never thought he would be so happy to see those yellowed teeth.

A few minutes later they were all onboard—nine of them in total—and the ship was turned around, the cursed city of Nang Xoiu slowly shrinking behind them.

"I'm sorry to leave you stranded, but our ship came under attack by those...things, while you were away. We set sail and came back around. And just in time, too!" As he was explaining, he gently stroked Hell's Teeth as if it were some sort of great cat.

"You have my thanks," Su Shen said to him with a nod. She then turned toward Zen-Jan, who sat on the deck breathing heavily, a shallow gash adorning his left cheek. He nodded and smiled wearily.

"Thank you," he said.

Su Shen and Bei hovered over him for a moment, staring down at him. He looked up, his smile turning to confusion on his face.

"What?" he inquired.

"You will come with us," she replied.

Bei reached down and dragged him to his feet, and the two of them led him off the deck, Bei's hand wrapping tightly around his arm. Zen-Jan's remaining men watched as he was hauled off, too weary to protest—or to care.

Daylen watched them for a brief moment as well but then decided to follow. He walked silently behind as they marched him down into the cramped, musty hold, where Bei finally spun him around and pushed him—not too roughly—back into a wall, his manner indicating that he was not to move from that spot.

Like a cornered rat, Zen-Jan's eyes darted back and forth, looking for escape. Daylen's eyes adjusted slowly to the copper lantern that hung above Zen-Jan's head. It swayed slightly with the movement of the ship, rocking the long shadows that crawled up the walls back and forth like a pendulum.

Daylen could almost smell his fear. He was trapped, and he knew it. It was time to confess.

Zen-Jan looked helplessly at Bei, who towered over him like a mountain, arms folded tightly across his broad chest.

"I," he began, "don't know what you want from me."

"Ah," thought Daylen, "Playing the ignorance card; he must believe his position is truly hopeless."

Su Shen ignored his act. 'You will tell us where the kidnappers have been taking their victims and who is responsible."

Zen-Jan opened his mouth, shaking his head and smiling apologetically in a way that told Daylen he was going to continue his pretense of ignorance.

Bei saw it, too. He slammed one of his mighty fists into the solid wooden wall next to Zen-Jan's head, indenting the wood with his knuckles. Zen-Jan flinched, the smile fleeing from his face.

Bei leaned in and said, "Answer her."

Zen-Jan licked his lips nervously. "I don't know who they are."

Bei's fist cocked back again, this time angled toward Zen-Jan's hooked nose.

"I swear!" the merchant cried, flinging his arms out in a feeble defensive gesture. "I only spoke with one of them, a woman, a storm child woman."

Storm child.

Daylen had heard of them before. They were a curious race. Resembling humans in nearly every way, storm children would sometimes arrive in this plane of existence during the most violent of storms. Sometimes when lightning would kiss the ground, it would leave one of them behind, fully grown, and with an insatiable hunger for knowledge. They were characteristically known as curious and scholarly. What would one possibly want with kidnapped villagers?

As if sensing his question, Su Shen asked, "What does she want with them?"

Zen-Jan shook his head, casting his gaze to the floor. "I don't know."

She slapped him. Hard. He jumped, shocked, and recoiled.

"She does not believe you," Bei smirked.

Zen-Jan looked at the giant.

"And neither do I," he finished.

"All right!" yelled Zen-Jan. "All right! She is using them as slaves."

"For what purpose?" Su Shen demanded to know.

"She takes them to the Dragon Spine Mountains. They are to be used for labor. She pays good money for these slaves, but they must be capable of digging."

"Digging? For what?"

"I... I think it's for some sort of treasure. It must be valuable. She had dozens of slaves working when I brought mine in."

As soon as Zen-Jan said it, Daylen could tell that he regretted it.

"So," said Su Shen, "you know where they are." An accusation.

"I.," Daylen could tell Zen-Jan's mind raced frantically for a way out of the mess he got himself into. But Su Shen cut him off.

"You will take us there."

The color drained from Zen-Jan's face.

"I can't!" he protested.

"You will," was Su Shen's stern response.

"You don't understand, if I return to her with a Daughter of Heaven and a jade obsidiman, she'll kill me!"

"What makes you think we won't?" asked Bei, calmly.

Zen-Jan sniffed. "You're a jade obsidiman. You don't commit murder." Su Shen and Bei were quiet for a moment, and then Daylen saw them share a look.

XXX

Atop the starlit deck the crew stood quietly in a semicircle as Bei held the merchant Zen-Jan by his ankle past the railing, above the swift moving sands as the ship slid quietly through the night.

"Please! Please, don't drop me! Don't drop me! Put me down! Please, by the love of the Passions, put me down!"

Bei, a playful smirk on his face, shook him.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Please, I'll do anything you want! Anything! Just don't drop me!"

Bei looked to Su Shen, who nodded slightly. Then he pulled him back over the railing, tossing him unceremoniously onto the deck. Zen-Jan scrambled backwards until he was a safe distance from the edge of the ship. The watching sailors laughed and went back to work.

Nearby, Lao Meung stood, chuckling.

Su Shen turned to him and said, "We cannot return to Giang-Pei."

Lao Meung's smile faltered. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"We must secure our prisoner," she replied. "He will undoubtedly have clients in Giang-Pei who might try to spring his release. We cannot risk it."

Lao Meung nodded and smiled, saying, "Five more gold." They both turned and looked at Daylen, who stood nearby. He sighed.

Later, after he paid Lao Meung the gold pieces and the ship was heading toward the eastern shores of the desert, Daylen found a hammock to lie himself down upon in one of the rooms below. He sank onto his back with a weary sigh, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax. Memories of the screaming sailors as they were being torn apart by the Horrors came rushing back to his mind. He tried his best to shove the images away, but they kept resurfacing. After some effort, he finally managed to relax enough to slip into a fitful sleep.

When he awoke hours later, he was sweating, his damp silk robe clinging to his back. His mouth and throat were parched, his lips were dry, and his nostrils burned. He rolled groggily to his side, nearly falling out of the hammock. His feet found the floor, and with an effort he dragged himself topside.

The sun brought tears to his eyes. He squeezed them shut until they adjusted to the blinding desert sands. He had slept through the night. He gazed about the deck, still waking up, and his eyes fell upon Su Shen and Bei. Su Shen sat on an empty crate, and Bei sat near her on the deck, polishing his great two-bladed sword.

"I slept all through the night?" he asked them, his voice croaking. The air was hot.

"Seems that way," said Bei, rising deftly to his feet.

"We were about to wake you," said Su Shen, also rising. "It's time for breakfast."

Down below in the mess hall, they ate a simple meal of meat, rice, and vegetables served with tea. Daylen noted that Bei did not touch much of the meat. He found it curious that even the obsidimen of Cathay preferred eating meat only when absolutely necessary. About halfway through the meal, Daylen asked, "So what are we going to do once we find this storm child woman?"

Su Shen looked at him and for a moment said nothing. Then she spoke, "You are not coming."

"Excuse me?"

"We no longer need your services."

Daylen set down his kuaizi and looked her in the eyes, summoning his best stern look. "You owe me money. Until I am paid, I am not leaving your side."

Su Shen studied him for a moment, and Daylen was lost in her green eyes. Finally she shrugged.

"Very well, Daylen Jagaro. But you should know that you might not survive."

Daylen tried to laugh her warning off, but the knot of anxiety that had so often visited him in the past few days was instantly back. "I'm aware of the dangers," was all he said. He snatched his kuaizi back up and sighed.

"What I wouldn't give for a proper utensil," he muttered.

Later, when they finished eating, they returned topside and stared out past the bow of the ship, waiting for the approaching shore, which, Lao Meung had assured them, would be in sight within hours.

Daylen would not miss this desert. He was already not looking forward to returning one day to conclude his business with Da Xia. Next time, he would have to travel by airship.

Zen-Jan was nearby, looking thoroughly miserable. He had grown quiet and sullen after he learned they would not be stopping at Giang-Pei, and instead were heading for the eastern shores of the desert. Time passed. When one of the sailors yelled, "Land!" they all turned to look. In the distance, they saw the shore stretching out in a long line far ahead of them. A small cluster of buildings hugged the shore near a wharf, where several ships were docked.

"Final stop," said Lao Meung.

After the ship was docked and the gangplank lowered, Su Shen and Bei left without a word, dragging Zen-Jan between them. But as Daylen was leaving, he felt a sudden odd sensation—he was actually going to miss Lao Meung and his odd yellow teeth. He turned, and as he headed down the gangplank he waved goodbye. The old sailor waved back, sending Daylen his familiar grin one last time.

When Daylen caught up to them, they were already at the cluster of buildings. Zen-Jan walked like a petulant child who had been caught misbehaving and now sulked in bitter resentment of his punishment. Bei kept a firm hand on the back of the man's arm, though Daylen did not believe the merchant intended to run.

They continued walking past the buildings.

"Are we not going to stop?" Daylen asked, confused.

"For what purpose?" asked Su Shen without breaking her stride.

Daylen found he did not have an answer. They continued to march into the dry countryside. The dirt road was well worn by countless feet, hooves, and wheels, and baked dry by the hot summer sun. Waist high brown grass surrounded them, waving in the warm air that blew in off the desert sands. Flat was the expanse for some time, until finally it gave way to gentle slopes covered in bright green grass. To Daylen, it was a welcome sight, especially after seeing nothing but shades of brown for what felt like an eternity.

As they walked, he studied Su Shen, whose eyes and mind were fixed on the path ahead. They were always fixed ahead. Daylen wondered what it would be like to be so driven; to be so preoccupied with a singularity of purpose.

But then he realized he was perhaps no different. He observed the social niceties, it was true, but he only did so out of need. He preferred to be pleasant, but to be honest, he only did so because it was good for business; and business was his singularity of purpose. Success was his goal. What he had always thought of as her lack of social grace was really just her driven motivation. He supposed that he had thought of himself as being somewhat better than her in that respect, but now that he really thought about it, he wondered just how useful being better at trivial conversation really was. She had a noble purpose, after all. She cared only about duty and honor, self-sacrifice, and helping others. His had always been the selfish pursuit of wealth.

He shook his head, casting off the epiphany. They were just different. He needed to stop comparing everything in his life to better and worse and accept that some things were just simply different. She was not better than him; they just believed in different things. After all, as a merchant, he helped people. He delivered goods to those who did not have them. That was something to be proud of. It was not just a pursuit of wealth and creature comforts. Those things were nice, sure, but that was not all he cared about.

He thought again of the child in the village. He saw in his mind's eye the life blood pouring, so dark, out of the terrible open gash in his flesh. It was not that he did not care if the boy had died; it was just that he did not know what to do about it. He was not trained to deal with such grievous injuries. Yes, he had feared for his own safety, and yes, to be perfectly honest, he had thought of himself first. But there was no shame in that. It was perfectly reasonable: this was not his war. He was not a soldier. It was not his fault that those people were murdered. He could just as easily not even have been there.

Daylen looked at Zen-Jan, who walked with a weary acceptance upon his face, his narrow eyes fixed on the approaching horizon. That man was selfish. He was despicable. Kidnapping so many innocent villagers, causing the death of who knows how many people just for his profit. Daylen thought suddenly of the contract in his robe.

That was different. He would not hire mercenaries to go out and kidnap windlings. He would purchase ones already captured at a proper Theran slave market. They would be treated well here, in Cathay. They would be so rare that they would fetch a high price, so only the wealthiest of Cathayans would be able to afford them. Their lives would be much better here, despite the bloody civil war, than they would be in the provinces.

He put the thoughts from his mind with a sharp sigh. He had no reason to question himself. He had more important things to worry about—like this storm child for whom they were searching.

And treasure.

That was what Zen-Jan had said. She was searching for treasure. The familiar covetous feeling tickled his bowels. He wondered what sort of treasure he meant. He thought about asking, but he did not think doing so in front of Su Shen and Bei was such a good idea. He did not want them to think about it; they were after those responsible for kidnapping the villagers, not the treasure. With any luck, when they got there, he could let them do whatever it was they needed to do—arrest her, kill her—and he would look for the treasure.

If no one was around, who would notice if he slipped it into his robes? Would it be gold? Some ancient artifact? Maybe even magic? Whatever it was, Daylen was sure he could find a buyer willing to part with a good sum back in Barsaive. He was already cataloguing a potential list in his mind.

They traveled for days, each taking turns on watching Zen-Jan, who showed no signs of harboring a desire to escape. On the third day, just as their rationed food supply ran out, they came upon a small village, the homes made from mud, river stone, and thatch. In the distance, they could see the tall, snowcapped peaks of the Dragon Spine Mountains thrusting high up into wispy clouds. The mountains stretched to the north and to the south as far as the eye could see.

Daylen had heard that they ran for hundreds and hundreds of miles, making the mountain range much larger than any found back in Barsaive. It was somewhere in those mountains where they would find the storm child and her slaves. But first they needed to get supplies. They marched down into the village and were greeted with suspicious looks and wide berths. Nearby, stacked against a simple hut near the village center, were several stacks of reed baskets filled with rice, and more stacks of lidded clay pots.

A stray dog, brown and skinny, harassed a cluster of chickens that squawked irritably in protest. The dog, its tail wagging excitedly, was fond of the game it created: it lunged, threw itself back, barked, and lunged again, each time chased away by a large mother hen. When Bei's shadow fell across it, the dog looked up. When it saw him, its tail sank and its ears flattened to its head. It ran off, whimpering.

"It seems you have that effect on everything," Daylen laughed. Bei frowned.

An older human, presumably the village elder, approached them. He wore long, faded gray robes over a wiry frame. He was bald, the top of his head adorned with large liver spots, and he had a long, thin, gray beard. When he spoke, Daylen could see that he was missing several teeth.

"Greetings," he said with a bow. "I am Zi-Da, and this is the village of Minle. What can we do for a Daughter of Heaven and obsidiman of the Jade Brotherhood?" Daylen saw the man's eyes dart to Su Shen's jade bracer, examining the pearls closely, and he wondered again what they signified. When the old man looked at Zen-Jan, disapproval seemed to pass over his eyes, and Daylen found himself wondering if there was more to the old man than there seemed.

"We," said Su Shen, "are passing through and require food, if you can spare it."

"I do not know if we can spare it," the old man replied. "If we have any to spare after they have come—,"

He motioned to the stacks of reed baskets and clay pots.

"—we will of course give you what we can."

Su Shen cocked her head. "Who are they?"

As if to answer her, the quiet afternoon suddenly rang with the thundering gallop of horses. They turned toward the sound and could see over a dozen men riding through the grassy plain toward the village, the horses' hooves tearing up large clumps of grass and earth. The men flashed brilliantly on the backs of their tall steeds—sun on steel. Daylen could see clearly that they were well armed and armored. Their mounts were large and well-bred.

'"War horses," he thought grimly, feeling his heart beginning to pound in his chest once again.

The men rode into the center of the village and reared up their mounts. Their eyes instantly fixed on Su Shen and Bei, who matched their gazes evenly. Daylen, on the other hand, took a few steps back at the sight of the soldiers. They were grim men, with a hardness in their eyes that only years of violence could have sown. They wore hide armor, in which highly polished plates of steel were riveted. They carried a variety of weapons, from sabers and daggers to spears and crossbows.

One of them looked at Zi-Da and said, "We have come for the supplies."

Zi-Da bowed, "Of course, we have it waiting for you." Already villagers were beginning to stack the baskets and pots in a nearby cart.

"Who are you to take these people's food?" Su Shen asked, taking a step forward. The soldier met her gaze and sniffed.

"Mind your own business, Daughter." A few of his men laughed.

Bei drew himself up, but Su Shen held out her hand before him, motioning him to do nothing. Then she walked boldly forward. Amused, the man trotted up toward her.

"What is your Name?" she asked calmly.

"I am Wu Bangu, lieutenant to—,"

He did not have time to finish his sentence. He had come within arm's reach of Su Shen, and she suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the startled man by his suit of armor and dragging him from his horse. Before he could react, there was a blade at his throat—the same dagger she had used to cut Daylen's silk robe, the merchant mused.

The other men reacted immediately, cursing and reaching for their weapons. Bei was instantly at Su Shen's side, both hands gripping the hilt of his double-bladed sword tightly.

"Move and he dies!" warned Su Shen sternly.

The men hesitated, looking at their captain.

"Do as she says!" he yelled, fear glittering in his eyes.

His men stopped, anger clearly displayed on their faces.

"No, please!" called Zi-Da. "There is no need for this!"

"It will be all right, old man," Bei assured him without removing his eyes from the mounted warriors.

"You don't know what you're doing," Wu Bangu spat at Su Shen. "You will regret this."

"No, you will regret it if you do not order your men to retreat from this village right now."

Wu Bangu's eyes narrowed, and he was about to protest when Su Shen pressed the dagger harder against his throat. He winced.

"Leave!" he barked.

"Lieutenant?" one of them, an ork, asked.

"You heard me!"

Reluctantly, the mounted soldiers turned and galloped out of the village, casting hateful glares at Su Shen and Bei—glares filled with promises of retribution. When they were out of sight, Su Shen removed the dagger from Wu Bangu's throat and stood, pulling him to his feet.

"Now," she said, "what right do you have to take these villagers' food?" The man straightened his armor and smacked the dust from his legs in an exaggerated display, taking his time.

While he did so, Zen-Jan seemed suddenly more alert, as if waking from a long dream. He looked around, as if seeking an avenue of escape. Daylen stepped in, smiling. "Going somewhere?" his eyes asked. The look of hope fled from Zen-Jan's eyes, and his shoulders slumped in defeat once again.

"As I was saying before you pulled me from my horse, is that I am Wu Bangu, lieutenant to Warlord Shekai. This village, and everything else in a fifty mile radius, is his domain."

Su Shen's eyes flared like green fire. "This is the territory of Feng Dei," she corrected venomously.

Wu Bangu snorted. "This area of the kingdom has long been lawless. The king has no authority here."

"It's true, Daughter!" said Zi-Da. "We were at the mercy of bandits and other would-be warlords for months, with no help from the king's armies!"

"Shekai brought order to this area. All he asks is food for his men. But now.." While he was talking, Wu Bangu gathered up the reins of his mount. He pulled himself up into the saddle with an experienced grace.

"...now he will return, kill you, and punish this village."

"No, please Wu Bangu! We did not ask them to defy you!" cried Zi-Da, terrified.

"If he harms these villagers, he'll answer to me." Su Shen cautioned, a severe tone in her voice.

Wu Bangu laughed—a gusty and powerful sound. He twisted in his saddle to survey the villagers.

"If I were you," he called out, "I would flee now before the wrath of Warlord Shekai comes down upon this village!" Then he turned and fixed his narrow eyes on Su Shen.

"And you," he smiled, "had better be gone as well."

With that, Wu Bangu turned his mount and galloped away. Once he was gone, the villagers erupted into a fitful chatter. Many cast angry glances at the four newcomers, and many others hurried to their homes, hoping to hide from any misfortunes heading their way. Zi-Da turned to them, fear and worry clearly displayed on his face.

"Do not worry," Su Shen assured him, her eyes once again kind. "We will not allow them to harm any of you."

Zi-Da was shaking his head. "I'm afraid that might be beyond your power to guarantee," he said with a weary finality.

She gave the old man a reassuring smile and then turned to Daylen. "We must find a place to secure him," she nodded toward Zen-Jan.

Daylen agreed. For a moment, he felt compelled to tell her how he prevented him from escaping while she was distracted, but stopped when he realized that such boasting would be lost on her.

"Come," she said to Bei, "We must ensure that the villagers are not caught up in this conflict." She turned and walked off, Bei in tow, leaving Daylen with Zen-Jan and Zi-Da. He looked at the old man and shrugged apologetically.

It was twilight when the riders returned, greater in number. Most of the villagers had already fled to the nearby hills, taking what little food and supplies they could. The others, too old or too stubborn to flee, hid in their homes, praying to the Passions for deliverance.

Zen-Jan had been locked in a hut, his wrists tied to a post. Su Shen, Bei, Daylen, and Zi-Da stood in the center of the village, near the stacks of baskets and clay pots, waiting patiently.

They came in from all directions, nearly fifty in all. The riders pulled up in a tight circle, choking off every avenue of escape. Daylen felt a cold sweat creep down his spine.

One of the riders strolled casually forward on his mount. He was a large man, human, his armor concealed in a bright, multicolored robe of so many layers that Daylen could not tell where one ended and another began. He was older, perhaps fifty, his face showing the signs of age. His cheeks were round, lacking the lean contours of youth. His beard and mustache reached down to his chest in three long points. His hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that fell down between his shoulder blades. Next to him, on his own mount, was Wu Bangu, sneering haughtily.

"I am Warlord Shekai," the older rider said, his voice deep and commanding. "Who are you to assault my lieutenant?"

Su Shen drew herself up proudly.

"I am Su Shen, Daughter of Heaven. You have no right to take these villagers' food."

The corner of Shekai's mouth twitched up into a smirk. "And how do I know you are a true Daughter of Heaven?"

Su Shen held up her arm that wore the jade bracer. The pearls reflected the moonlight.

"And how do I know you did not simply kill a Daughter and take it from her?" Shekai asked.

"You will have to take my word for it." Su Shen said simply.

Shekai shook his head slowly. "No," he said. "I think not."

Suddenly, his hand lashed out. The back of his fist connected with Wu Bangu's grinning face. The blow split his lip and sent him flying from his saddle. He landed hard on his back in the dirt, the wind knocked out of him in a rush. "There," said the warlord. "Heal my man."

Su Shen did not seem alarmed; she walked calmly to Wu Bangu and placed her hand over his mashed lips. A moment later, he was healed. Shekai snorted, satisfied. "Consider that," he said, pointing a meaty finger at Wu Bangu, "punishment for daring to threaten a Daughter of Heaven."

With that, he dismounted and stretched, giving a great sigh as he did so. A young soldier ran up and took his reins, bowing before leading the mount away.

Shekai bowed to Su Shen, who, after a brief pause, returned the courtesy.

"I apologize for my lieutenant's lack of respect," he said, adjusting the great saber on his belt. "He allowed his position to go to his head."

Su Shen nodded, but then said, "I am gratified that you show the proper respect to agents of the Empire, but this still does not give you the right to steal these people's food."

"You misjudge me," Shekai said. "I am not here to steal their food. This food, they give freely to me."

Su Shen looked to Zi-Da for confirmation.

"I tried to tell her!" the old man said. "She would not listen!"

The warlord patted the old man reassuringly on his bony shoulder. "It's all right," he said. "I understand. And you know that I would never harm you. My lieutenant made threats where none were warranted. He will be demoted for his mistake."

Zi-Da bowed deeply. "Thank you, my lord."

"I don't understand," said Su Shen.

"I am from this region," Shekai explained. "My father and his father before him fought for the kingdom of Feng Dei. But in recent years, the king's control of my homeland has faltered. His kingdom is vast, and he cannot protect every area. He decided that this region was not worth investing troops in. I was a general in his army, commanding a large cavalry force. When I heard that my home town was controlled by a petty warlord, I returned with my troops. After killing him, I decided to stay and protect the land and its people. I am no longer a member of his majesty's forces, but I still serve Feng Dei."

Su Shen's face seemed to soften. She nodded again, understanding.

"You will find," Shekai went on, "that this is common throughout the five kingdoms. They are just too vast, and there are not enough soldiers for the kings to maintain control over all their lands. Some warlords are no better than tyrants, but these are my people, and I am dedicated to their protection, just as you are."

After a moment, Su Shen spoke. "Very well; you may take your food."

Shekai bowed deeply. "Thank you for your blessing, Daughter."

"Wait!" someone yelled suddenly. "Wait!"

They turned to look. Pushing past the wall of horses was Zen-Jan, his hands free of the rope that had bound him. Daylen's jaw dropped. He knew then that he should have had one of the others check Zen-Jan's bindings; he never was good at such things.

Zen-Jan ran up to Shekai and dropped to one knee.

"Great warlord," he said, "I am your humble servant. Please, take me with you. This Daughter of Heaven, her jade obsidiman, and her round-eyed Westerner kidnapped me without cause."

Shekai studied him for a moment and then said, "Rise."

Zen-Jan did as he was told. Shekai then looked at Su Shen.

"Is this true? Did you kidnap this man?" he demanded.

"He is guilty of hiring mercenaries to kidnap villagers and then selling them as slaves," she explained. "He knows the location of the mines where those villagers are now."

"Don't listen to her," said Zen-Jan, "I am a wealthy merchant. I can pay you and your men chests of gold."

Daylen saw a look pass over Shekai's face at that moment. Daylen glanced at Shekai's men and could see the greed coming to life in their eyes. Worry passed over Su Shen's face, and Zen-Jan licked his lips, a smile slowly creeping onto his mouth.

The warlord turned and looked at his men, considering.

"Let them take him," Daylen suddenly thought. "Su Shen and Bei can't take all of these soldiers on; they would have no choice but to relent. Then we could be on our merry way, and she could pay me the money she owes me."

Daylen wondered if she actually would relent and then realized that the two of them would most likely fight to the death.

"Stubborn fools," he thought bitterly, suddenly worried.

And then, without warning, Shekai spun back around, his hand grasping the hilt of his saber. The long, curved blade slid free effortlessly, and in one smooth motion passed easily through Zen-Jan's neck. The merchant's smile was still on his face when his head toppled from his neck and bounced in the dirt. His body followed, a great gush of blood pumping out of the stump and soaking into the earth, his fingers twitching. Su Shen and Bei were instantly in fighting stances, their weapons at the ready. But Shekai did not even look at them. He was staring in disgust at Zen-Jan's fallen body. He held his blade out, and the boy who had earlier taken his reins ran up and wiped the blood from it with a red silk cloth. The warlord then returned the saber to its sheath with a sharp snap.

"I know of the place you speak," he said finally. "I can tell you how to get there."

"How do you know of this place?" asked Su Shen, not lowering her weapon.

"Mercenaries have raided many of my villages, taking their captives to the mines you speak of."

"If you know of this place," said Su Shen, "then why have you not done something about it already?"

Shekai looked at her, a glimmer of fear in his eyes. "Some forces not even I dare meddle with. Those who have my villagers captive are dangerous, with access to magic I have no defense against. If you go there, you must be cautious. The mines are guarded by many mercenaries, and those whom they bow to are powerful."

"I understand," she said with no hint of worry in her voice. "Now, where are these mines?"

CHAPTER 7

They were headed for the mining town of Dongwei, in the rocky, forested foothills of the Dragon Spine Mountains. The well-worn road on which they traveled was flanked by tall oak trees, their trunks as wide as a troll is tall. Long fingers of sunlight filtered down through the dense, green canopy above. The trees' large, thick roots pushed up through the simple dirt road in many places, turning an otherwise straight path into a winding, twisting trail.

The fresh smell of the forest was a welcome change to Daylen. He found that he kept drawing deep breaths as they walked. So loudly was he breathing in through his nose that he noticed Bei looking at him strangely for it in mid-inhale.

"Sorry," he muttered, to the obsidiman shaking his head.

They could hear the town before they could see it. Su Shen motioned them off the road into the underbrush, where they crept along silently until reaching a large, man-made clearing.

There was a small town in that clearing, Dongwei, surrounded by a simple wooden palisade, perhaps nine feet tall and manned by several towers that rose an additional seven feet. Daylen could see men in those towers, peering out of shutters into the surrounding tree lines, loaded heavy crossbows in their hands.

Thin columns of smoke rose from within the structure, and Daylen could smell the home cooked aromas. To the east, a wide road led further up into the hills. The hillside rose sharply, carpeted in a thick spread of oak trees. They saw two carts—one going up the hill and the other coming down—being pulled by large, horned beasts that Daylen did not recognize. Easily eight feet long, they closely resembled rhinoceroses, only with four horns instead of two.

The cart pulling up the winding path was empty; the cart returning to the town was filled with large chunks of broken gray stone.

"That cart," whispered Su Shen, indicating the one going up the hill, "must be going to the mines. They load up with the stone, and bring it back to the town, where it's shipped off and sold."

"It's a quarry, then?" asked Daylen, disappointed. "I thought they were searching for a treasure?"

Su Shen shook her head. "No doubt they are. But why let good stone go to waste?" She began creeping to the east, heading further up the steep hill. Bei and Daylen followed as silently as they could through the thick brush. They maneuvered swiftly up the slope. The further they ascended the thinner the trees around them appeared, the underbrush slowly disappearing. About a quarter of a mile up, they passed a sharp bend and stopped, waiting.

An hour passed before they saw what they were waiting for: a wagon approaching from the town. The lone driver, a male elf, wore a long, dusty brown robe. When he pulled up around the bend, he found Su Shen standing before him in the middle of the path. He pulled hard on the reins, bringing the great four horned beast to a lumbering halt. He gazed at her, uncertain, until he heard, "Hey."

He turned and looked, only to find Bei's fist. The impact sent him out of his seat onto the dirt road, unconscious. Daylen stepped out of the tree line, nodding approvingly. Bei shrugged and hopped into the back of the cart while Su Shen stripped the unconscious elf of his robe and dragged him off the road.

"Here," she said, hopping into the driver's seat while tossing the dusty robe to Bei. "Cover yourself as best you can. We don't need you advertising that you're a jade obsidiman." Bei nodded in agreement, pulling the robe over his broad shoulders. Su Shen pulled off her bracer and tossed it to Daylen.

"Put this in your robe," she instructed.

Then she looked at Bei's sword and said, "You're going to want to give me that."

Bei looked to her and then to his sword, finally handing it over reluctantly.

"Do not worry," she assured him, "we'll need you to have this in your hands soon enough."

The road wound up the mountain for another mile. The further up the slope they climbed, the rockier the terrain became, the forest around them thinning further and further. The path finally ended at the mouth of a dark cave. The opening stood fifteen feet wide and just as tall. Two armored trolls stood outside of it, flanking the wide entrance, armed with tall pole arms.

Daylen looked down at his feet, as he had been instructed, doing his best to appear fearful. Bei covered himself with the robe as best he could, the hood pulled up around the thin layer of skin that passed for his ears.

The trolls motioned for Su Shen to stop.

"Who are these two?" one of them asked her.

"New workers," she replied easily.

"That's a nice robe for a slave," said the other, walking up to Daylen. He pinched a bit of the silk between thumb and forefinger, peering at Daylen closely.

"A Westerner?" he asked, surprised.

Daylen's mind raced.

"Please," he said, feigning terror, "if you get me out of here, you can have my robe!"

He did not see her hand, but when the back of Su Shen's fist met Daylen's face, it knocked him flat onto his back. The slap was hard and it stung, burning his cheek like fire. He heard the trolls laughing in approval.

Then suddenly, the laughter stopped.

Daylen looked up and saw Su Shen's slender blade sticking through the thick, meaty neck of one of the trolls, whose eyes and mouth were open wide with shock and disbelief. Her sword withdrew, and before the other troll could react, it opened his throat. They both collapsed, struggling for breath, until finally, after an agonizing minute, their massive legs finally quit kicking.

Su Shen strapped her bracer back on, and Bei snatched up his sword. After hopping out of the cart, the three of them passed through the mouth of the cave, slinking silently through the shadows.

The entrance opened into a tall, wide cavern, lit dimly by torches. Old, rusty cart tracks led down tight corridors out of sight, from where Daylen could hear the rhythmic clanging of steel on stone. There were perhaps half a dozen of these corridors vanishing into the bowels of the cavern. To their right, hugging the wall was a path cut into the stone, perhaps five feet wide, leading up toward the ceiling. It rose nearly twenty feet before vanishing into a narrow passageway in the wall.

In the distance, they could hear a cart, its wheels groaning in protest, approaching from one of the corridors.

"This way!" called Su Shen urgently, rushing them up the ramp.

When they reached the entrance, they ducked within it, running through twisting corridors lit by smoky torches. They eventually came to another slender doorway that opened out into a vast cavern. A walkway began at the doorway and ran around the perimeter of the cavern, about twenty feet above. Rickety wooden ladders led down to the cavern floor. Daylen could see armed mercenaries—three in total—patrolling the walkway, and he could also see a few more doorways along the walkway leading deeper into the mountain. The cavern was hot and humid and smelled of sweat and filth.

Crouching and peering cautiously out of the doorway, they saw slaves hard at work down below. Mostly young men and older boys, their ankles were chained, and they swung heavy pickaxes into the stone, piling the rubble into waiting carts. The cart tracks vanished down a narrow passage, presumably leading back to the main entrance.

The slaves were bone-weary, soiled, their hands blistered and bleeding, fresh whip marks striping their backs. There were at least forty in all. Beyond them, on the far wall of the cavern down below, another cave, supported by wooden beams, led up a steep slope.

Daylen heard the unmistakable sound of a whip cracking. His eyes found a human marching among the slaves, the whip in hand. He was pale, for a Cathayan, and wore an eye patch over his left eye. Thick black hair poured in greasy strands from beneath a wide straw hat atop his head. An unkempt beard of wiry hair exploded in all directions in a wild mess around his mouth. Burning red sores bulging with white heads crusted his lips and knuckles. The way the man's eyes lingered on the younger boys turned Daylen's stomach.

"What do you think?" asked Bei. When Daylen turned toward his voice, he saw that he was addressing Su Shen and not him. The Daughter of Heaven shook her head.

"We must think of a plan of attack. We don't know how many of them there—,"

"Master!" a voice from below cut her off.

One of the slaves had stopped digging. In his hands, he held a small, rectangular wooden box. The master, the man who held the whip, walked menacingly over to him. He snatched the box from the slave's hands and looked at it carefully. It was about a foot in length, made of simple wood and carved with images that Daylen could not make out from his distance. The master carefully lifted the lid and pulled out an old, dusty scroll, bound tight with a red string.

"What is that?" Daylen wondered aloud.

"Shh!" Su Shen hushed him.

"Hufa!" the master yelled. One of the guards on the walkway stood at rapt attention.

"Get down here," the master continued, "and tell our lords we have found it!" There was a triumph to his voice. Hufa bowed sharply, scrambled quickly down a ladder, and disappeared through the other cave, up the steep slope and out of sight.

"We need to get our hands on whatever that is," whispered Su Shen. Bei nodded in agreement. Daylen looked at them, feeling left out; they had went over the basics of the plan with him, but they had yet to explain just how exactly they planned on accomplishing their objective. He found himself wondering if they even knew yet. He strained to see the small box as best he could.

Was that it? Was that the treasure? An old scroll? The excitement and anticipation that had been overshadowing his apprehension slowly dwindled away, leaving only his anxiety dwelling in the pit of his stomach.

Su Shen began scanning the entire cavern, absorbing every detail. Daylen could tell her mind was working on a plan. There were two remaining mercenaries on the walkway plus the master down below. Other than that, Daylen saw no other adversaries.

After a few moments, Hufa returned, walking fearfully next to an imposing obsidiman carved from midnight. He was the size of Bei, only his skin was black, with veins of red and gold spreading out across his muscular frame. The light from the dozens of torches shimmered off of his glossy skin, and Daylen knew instantly that he was one of the honored jade obsidimen. Daylen looked to Bei and saw a smoldering anger in his eyes.

"Wang Yeh!" Bei suddenly screamed with a snarl. The entire cavern turned towards the sound. Bei flew to his feet.

"Bei, no!" Su Shen tried to restrain him. A useless gesture. Bei threw her arm off and then leapt through the doorway, out across the narrow walkway, and down into the cavern below. Daylen gasped. A fall from that height with his weight would surely shatter his legs. But when Bei landed, he landed with the grace of a cat, and Daylen once again was held in awe by the power of adept magic.

Su Shen was right behind him, flying down a ladder. The two soldiers on the walkway were running towards them, weapons drawn, and Daylen had no choice but to quickly follow. When they reached the bottom of the ladder, he saw Bei charging the other jade obsidiman, the one he had called Wang Yeh.

Wang Yeh was unarmed. He stood fixed, watching Bei with dispassionate eyes.

Bei lunged with his sword held out in front of him with both hands like a spear. The dark obsidiman stepped to the side at the last moment, allowing the blade to slip harmlessly past him. He backhanded Bei across the mouth, sending him skittering off his feet and onto his back.

The slaves erupted into a wild roar, screaming for help, screaming for the blood of their captors, and screaming for freedom.

Meanwhile, Su Shen was running toward the master, who stood watching the conflict between the two obsidimen. He heard her just as she reached him. He turned, and Su Shen spun on the ball of her foot in tight a circle, her leg swinging up in a wide arc. Her heel connected with the man's temple, knocking the hat far from his head, and spinning him off his feet. He landed hard on his face and lay still.

Hufa drew his saber and charged her with a roar. Su Shen had her sword in her hand by the time he reached her, and the two blades met with a sharp clang.

Daylen looked up the ladder just in time to see the first of the mercenaries beginning to climb down. Daylen had no weapon. He looked back to the fight between Su Shen and Hufa. Su Shen ducked a savage swipe of the mercenary's blade, and came up with her own, plunging it deep into his belly. She tore it sideways and skipped back, her sword up at the ready. But Hufa did not attack; instead, he groaned and sank to his knees, holding his belly.

Su Shen was about to help Bei by charging the obsidiman when Daylen yelled, "Su Shen! Here!"

She looked and saw the mercenary halfway down the ladder. She ran to intercept. Daylen rushed away, not wanting to get caught in the middle. He looked over at Bei, who had just regained his feet. Wang Yeh dove at him, his eyes glittering fanatically as he grasped Bei's sword and attempted to wrench it from his hands.

"Give me the blade, Bei!" Wang Yeh hissed.

"I'll deliver it straight through your heart, traitor!" Bei roared, throwing him backwards with a mighty shove. Wang Yeh dove again, and the two continued their titanic struggle, slowly maneuvering back toward the cavern's mouth from where Wang Yeh had entered. Beyond them, up the slope, Daylen saw more figures approaching. He looked back to see how Su Shen was doing, but she was still locked in combat with the two mercenaries, both of whom had been stung more than once by her long, steel stinger.

Daylen reached for a pickaxe, pulling one from a young slave's hands. He looked back toward the sloping cavern and was able to see that there were three figures in all: one was a large human, tall and supple with gigantic shoulders. He was bald, his face grim. Coiled around his body was a long golden cobra.

Next to him was a dwarf, emaciated and sickly in appearance, with short black hair and a smooth face. Tattoos covered his bony arms and face, though of what, Daylen could not tell from where he was standing.

The third figure was her: the storm child. Her hair fell in shimmering blue ripples like a waterfall down to her shoulders. Her eyes were solid balls of white. She wore a soft white robe that seemed to float about her on an unseen wind.

And she was looking right at him, smiling coyly like a seductive mistress.

His breath seized in his throat. He gripped the wooden handle of his pickaxe tightly. The three figures stopped halfway down the slope. The storm child extended her arm out toward him, and from her opening fingers flew a sizzling bolt of lightning. It caught him in the chest. Everything went white. His ears popped, and then he was deaf. Everything was numb. Slowly, agonizingly, the world crept back into being. Pain was his first sensation—a deep and overwhelming pain that bit through his flesh and into his bones. When his eyes finally opened, he found that he was looking up at the chamber's ceiling far, far above as he lay on his back. He then became aware of sound—the frantic screaming of the slaves and the sounds of battle, the powerful din but a dull muttering to him—and the smell of burned flesh.

He rolled onto his side and saw the three menacing figures continuing their slow and determined march down the slope. At the mouth of that cavern, Bei finally got the better of his adversary and threw him inside. The dark obsidiman landed hard on his back. Bei looked up and saw the other three approaching him. He pulled his sword back over his shoulder with both hands, readying for a mighty swing at one of the wooden support beams.

The storm child drew her hand back, as if getting ready to throw a stone, but instead, a quivering ball of energy, pulsing white, flew from her palm and struck Bei high in the back. The obsidiman gritted his teeth in pain and swung with all his might. His blade cleaved through the wood as if it were flesh. The rock above it shuddered and collapsed. Bei threw himself out of the way as a shower of dirt and stone rained down, the impact from the great weight shaking the ground and sealing the mouth of the cavern, with the four of their enemies on the other side.

When the dust settled, the two mercenaries Su Shen had been fighting lay dead at her feet. Daylen rose shakily, steadying himself with the pickaxe as if it were a cane. Several gashes ran across Su Shen's arms and legs, though if they troubled her she did not show it.

"Stay back!" a voice yelled.

Still groggy, Daylen twisted to see that the master had regained consciousness. He stood behind a young slave boy, a dagger pressed against his windpipe. The boy's eyes were wide and frightened. The entire cavern had gone silent, all the chained slaves watching the display. Su Shen approached him calmly, her sword lowered by her side.

"Stay back, slut! Or I cut this boy's throat!" he warned, spittle flying from between his crusted lips.

Su Shen stopped just out of blade's reach from him. Her sword remained lowered, its sharp point facing the ground. Blood still covered it from the men she killed. Daylen watched as the blood ran down the edge of her blade like a single, red ball, and then collect on the tip, well up like a teardrop, and fall to the brown dirt below. It was mesmerizing somehow; he watched another drop roll silently down the blade's edge. As it neared the tip, Su Shen suddenly stepped forward with her lead leg, quick and sudden, slashing her sword in an arc toward the master.

What was she doing? Even Daylen could see that she was too far away to reach him. Her blade snapped to a halt, pointing directly at him. The single drop of blood flicked off the tip and sailed through the air, splashing directly in his good eye.

His head snapped back, shocked, and his arms flew open. The boy threw himself to the ground, and Su Shen sprang forward, her slender blade lunging. It slid easily through his throat. His eye flashed back open, a register of shock and pain. His free hand flew up to the blade and clutched it feebly. His teeth were gritted as he fought the pain.

His dagger slipped from his fingers and fell point first into the dirt. His hand came up to join the other in its useless attempts to drag the sword from his throat. The shock was now gone from his face, replaced by fear. His cheeks grew a bright red, and suddenly he coughed, trying to suck in a breath. A red mist flew from his mouth, staining his teeth, a long string of red saliva landing on the still blade.

Su Shen's fierce green eyes were fixed angrily upon him, watching him struggle without pity or remorse. His gurgling chokes came more frequent, and suddenly he let out a great whimper, and his knees buckled and sank. His hands went slack, his fingers falling open, his arms dropping limply to his sides. His eye rolled back in his head, his eyelid twitching. And it was over.

Su Shen withdrew the blade with such speed that for a moment the man's corpse seemed to hover in midair before collapsing in a dead heap. In a flash, her sword was sheathed and the keys that hung from the master's belt were in her hands, and she set about to unlocking the slaves' chains. Bei marched back over, limping slightly, and scooped up the box that contained the scroll.

A few minutes later, the three of them were leading forty slaves out of the mines. Along the way, a mercenary, a t'skrang the color of seawater, rushed them, screaming and waving a sword. Bei intercepted him, cleaving through his scales and leaving him a bleeding, shuddering heap.

From somewhere within the mines, a horn blew.

"We must hurry!" said Su Shen, motioning for the slaves to run faster. When they spilled out of the cavern, the slaves faltered, blinded by a sun many of them had not seen in weeks, perhaps months. Su Shen and Bei motioned them to run into the woods. Behind them, they could see several mercenaries rushing to catch up with them.

When the last of the slaves disappeared into the woods, Su Shen hopped into the driver's seat of one of the carts. The great beast reared and began rushing down the hillside. Bei and Daylen ran to catch up, throwing themselves into the back. Daylen saw six mercenaries pile into another cart and begin to chase after them. Down the winding road they bounced, their pursuers slowly catching up with them. Su Shen nearly lost control around the sharp bend. She managed to just barely keep the cart on the road, and as they came around they saw the elf they had waylaid standing in the middle of the path, holding his bruised jaw. When he saw them, his eyes flew open wide, and he flung himself off the road as they thundered by.

Their pursuers got close enough for one of the mercenaries to run across the beast and leap over the gulf onto the back of their cart. Bei wrestled with the man for a moment before overpowering him, flinging him out of the cart where he hit a passing tree with a bone-crunching smack. A second leapt across and Bei caught him in midair with a kick, sending him flying back into the driver. The driver fell backwards, pulling sideways on the reins. The beast turned sharply, and they flew off the road, the cart flipping and sending the mercenaries tumbling through the brush.

The town rushed towards them. The mercenaries at the gate held out their hands, commanding them to stop. When they saw that the cart was not slowing down, they threw themselves out of the way. The cart flew through the open gates and into the town. Startled townsfolk scattered like dry leaves in a heavy wind. Su Shen pulled hard on the reins, bringing the cart to a sudden halt. Daylen lost his balance and fell hard onto his side in the back of the cart. Bei flew out, landing nimbly on his feet, twirling his sword. Su Shen leapt free, rushing to meet two soldiers heading toward them.

"Now!" yelled Bei to Daylen.

Daylen reached into his robes and withdrew the small glass orb he had purchased so many days ago in the town of Guang-Bi. "Shekai! It is done!" he spoke into it and then threw it as hard as he could into the wall of a nearby building. The glass exploded into a shower of tiny sparkles. The sparkles coalesced, forming into an image of a glittering sparrow. In a flash of light it was gone, flying out and beyond the town's walls, leaving behind a slow falling trail of twinkling motes.

More mercenaries were surrounding them, and it was soon clear that they would be overwhelmed. Suddenly, a war horn split the afternoon air. It was followed by the thunderous roar of Warlord Shekai and his army as they burst forth through the tree line that surrounded Dongwei. Startled, the mercenaries ran back to the walls to man their posts. More tried to shut the gates, but Bei was upon them, cutting men down to his left and his right. Shekai's forces poured through, and the battle soon became a rout. Outnumbered, the mercenaries guarding the town were quickly overwhelmed, and within minutes they surrendered. Daylen watched the entire battle from the back of the cart, unmoving.

When it was all over, Shekai gathered the townspeople into the square and informed them that they were now his subjects. Most of them, once they realized they were not to be summarily executed and their town was not to be sacked, were visibly relieved. The plan had gone smoothly, for the most part. Shekai had promised that his forces, which would lie in wait in the forest around the town, would assault once he had confirmation that the sorceress had been defeated. Once Daylen's message had reached him, he signaled the attack. With Su Shen and Bei preventing the gates from being shut, they had no problem taking the town.

"Where will you go now?" the warlord asked Su Shen.

"We must discover the purpose of this," she replied, holding up the scroll case. "If it's important to them, then it's important to us."

"Beware," said Bei, "I do not believe they are dead."

Shekai waved a dismissive hand. "Without their mercenary army, I doubt they will try to retake the town. Besides, if they want that scroll, it is you who should beware."

By the following morning, rested, healed, and with a full supply of rations, the three left Dongwei.

As the town vanished behind them, Daylen could not get the image of the storm child from his mind, or the words of Shekai.

It was they who should beware.

XXX

It was several hours past sunset when they finally managed to dig their way out. It was her magic that allowed them to eventually free themselves, and when they did they found that their mercenaries were dead, their slaves had escaped, and their town had been conquered by a local warlord. The map was gone. It was only the map she cared about. It was only the map that was important.

How did the Daughter of Heaven and jade obsidiman discover them? Did they understand the significance of the map? Were there others involved? How much of their plans were compromised? These were the questions that plagued her.

They fled the mines, finally stopping deep in the forest, in a small clearing. The other three were with her: the dwarf, the human, and the obsidiman. They sat about a fire, waiting silently and patiently while she worked her magic.

She had the blood of one of the humans, the Daughter of Heaven, on the blade of a sword. One of the mercenaries had managed to injure her before his death. She sat cross-legged before the fire, and the sword hovered above her knees, held in place by magic. She gazed into the blood, stared into its depths further and further with her astral sight while weaving the magical threads of her spell. She reached out with her left hand and scooped out a palmful of fire. It hovered in her hand, dancing above her palm. She spread it across the blade. It wrapped around the steel like a twisting serpent. The congealed blood burned and turned black. The fire slowly winked out of existence, leaving only the charred blood on the blade. She scooped it up onto her fingertips.

"Come," she commanded, looking at the dwarf. He approached her, his head bowed. She found a section of his skin not already covered with a tattoo and smeared with the blackened blood a Cathayan word onto his flesh:

Find.

When she was finished, it flared brilliantly, turning a vibrant orange, and the dwarf cried out in pain as it burned him. She smiled, licking her lips, watching him twist in agony. When it cooled, he was left with a new tattoo.

"When you find them," she said, "you will contact us."

"Yes, Sorceress," he said. She studied him carefully. He was impetuous, she knew. And insane.

"Immediately," she added, with a hint of a threat in her tone.

"Immediately, Sorceress," he said.

She nodded then, and he turned, fleeing into the darkened woods. She looked at the other two. "We will contact our patron," she said. "We will need an airship."

They would need to draw upon more of their resources to ensure success. They were close. So close to their goal. She would make certain they suffered for interfering with their plans. She thought of the pale Westerner that had been with them. Why was a Westerner teamed up with a Daughter of Heaven and a jade obsidiman? It did not matter. He would meet the same unfortunate end.

CHAPTER 8

They were in an inn. It was late, a few hours past sunset, and there were not many other patrons. The three of them sat at a table just under the glare of a lantern hanging from a wooden pillar. They discovered, much to Bei's delight, that they had chairs specially designed to be able to hold the weight of obsidimen and trolls; he mumbled something about there being a certain dignity in not having to sit on the floor.

The town they were in was surrounded by a fifteen foot stone wall. It must have been a wealthier community to afford such defenses, Daylen mused when he first saw it. When they approached the city, they found that the large gates were closed.

"No one enters past nightfall," the ork guard had called down gruffly.

"You will open to a Daughter of Heaven and a jade obsidiman," Su Shen responded sternly. The ork had hesitated, uncertain, and then his head disappeared behind the ramparts. He was probably discussing the matter with his superior, Daylen figured. A few moments later, the tall wooden gates swung inward. Half a dozen armed soldiers greeted them, watching them closely as they walked through, their eyes lingering on Daylen.

He must have looked quite odd indeed: a Westerner wearing an expensive silk Cathayan robe, torn and now blackened on the front—a scorch from the lightning bolt that had nearly taken his life.

The lightning bolt had left a terrible burn on his chest. After they left Dongwei, the adrenaline of the events had slowly worn off, and he was left with the burning pain of his wound. Su Shen had noticed his winces of discomfort and asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing," he tried to shrug it off—some mindless display of masculinity, he realized just after he said it. Fortunately, she ignored him and told him to sit. He did so without protest.

"Open your robe," she had instructed. When he hesitated, she yanked it open. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of his red, blasted flesh. She laid a small, gentle hand over it, and Daylen felt a surge rush through him, exploding through his limbs and down his back, seizing his breath. Whether it was from the magic or from something else, he could not say.

Su Shen had closed her eyes, and a few breaths later there was no pain, only a small red scar. She then stood without a word, and she and Bei continued walking down the simple dirt road, expecting that he would catch up.

They had arrived at the town by nightfall. Daylen did not know its Name. And now they sat in an inn—an inn whose Name Daylen also forgot to catch when entering—and stared at the map unfurled on the table before them.

The map was of a jungle. Having lived the life of a merchant for as long as he had, Daylen was experienced with maps. He recalled looking at his father's maps when he was a child, the different sections of Barsaive painted with various colored dyes—oranges, blues, reds, yellows—to signify which regions produced which resource. But this map was different. This was a treasure map.

"The Jungle of Endless Wandering," Bei muttered with weariness.

The Jungle of Endless Wandering. Daylen had heard of the jungle. It stretched across the southern kingdom of Shui Dei. It was a vast, inhospitable wilderness that was considered untamed and outside the control of the kingdom. Most Cathayans spoke of the jungle with dread and just a bit of superstition.

"Ancient terrors live in those haunted woods," one merchant had told him. He shrugged it off at the time. After all, he had no plans to venture into that uncharted realm.

Until now.

Bei rose from their table to go relieve himself in the privies out back. He took his two-bladed sword with him. Daylen still had not asked him about the other jade obsidiman. His curiosity was powerful, but he felt somehow that broaching the subject was not the best idea. He believed that if they wanted him to know, they would tell him.

"It will take four days by airship," said Su Shen. For a moment Daylen was not sure if she was talking to him; after all, she never spoke to him, especially about their plans. It was always her and Bei, with him looking on.

"We will have to see if this town has an air dock," she went on. "It seems wealthy enough, so most likely it will." Daylen could not remember if he had seen air spires as they passed through the town. To tell the truth, he was not even looking, thinking only of how wonderful a bed would feel to sleep in that night.

She looked at him, her eyes shining like green glass in the lamplight.

"Do you have enough coin for our passage?"

Still a bit taken off guard by being spoken to directly, Daylen stammered when he said, "Y-yes." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes. I should have enough." Though truth be told, his coin was running dangerously short.

Su Shen nodded contently and gazed back at the map. Daylen wondered what they would find. He allowed his mind to fantasize about a vault filled with such treasure as to make a dragon envious.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something dark moving up his leg. Looking, he found a large, black spider, its body thick and round and covered in a coat of short, coarse hairs. It twitched quickly up his robe towards his chest. He flew to his feet, letting out an effeminate scream, slapping wildly at his robe. The spider flew to the floor and before it could skitter away, he stomped on it fiercely, leaving behind a dark stain in the wood.

Composing himself, he found Su Shen looking up at him, a puzzled look on her face.

"Spider," he explained sheepishly.

A moment later Bei returned, resuming his seat.

"Four days by airship," Su Shen said to him. He responded with a nod.

"And I insist," said Daylen, smiling and sitting back down, "I'll pay for it." The obsidiman only responded with another nod.

A moment of silence passed, and then Daylen noticed Bei staring at him.

"What?" he asked. Bei pointed a thick finger at him.

"What?" he repeated. Bei emphasized that he was pointing at his right shoulder. Daylen looked, and there, perched next to his face, was another spider. He erupted from his seat, screaming and slapping. The inn's proprietor, a large female troll, stopped to watch the frantic human.

The spider, just like the other, was flung from Daylen's body. However, before he had a chance to introduce it to the bottom of his foot, several more spiders began falling from his robe. They fell with barely discernable thuds and then crossed the floor with alarming speed. Su Shen and Bei slowly stood, watching the unusual display. The spiders crawled beneath the front door, out into the night beyond.

Su Shen and Bei rushed after them. Recovering himself, Daylen followed, though less enthusiastically.

The town was quiet, cast in the soft glow of a clear, starlit sky. No one was out; only the grim, silent buildings flanking the wide open roads greeted them. The trails of spiders vanished around a corner across the street. Su Shen and Bei stopped just outside the inn's door, staring after them.

"What was that all about?" asked Daylen, hoping they had an answer. They did not. Beyond that, Daylen noticed that they seemed tense: Bei was gripping his sword with both hands, and Su Shen's hand grasped the pommel of her sheathed sword. They did not know what that was, but experience clearly warned them that something was not right.

Then they heard it: a low rumbling. It sounded like a distant stampede. It grew louder and louder, until suddenly, appearing from behind the corner that the spiders had vanished behind, a figure appeared. The earth beneath his feet rippled like a wave, carrying him forward with amazing speed. Daylen recognized him instantly: the sickly, emaciated dwarf from the mines. His eyes glittered with malice—a malice echoed by his cruel smile.

Now that he was closer, Daylen could see that the tattoos covering his body were of various Cathayan characters. Dozens of spiders crawled across his loose fitting robes and across his flesh. They found blank patches of his pale skin and then seemed to melt into an inky blackness, absorbing into his flesh. A moment later they were gone, replaced by Cathayan characters tattooed on his skin.

The dwarf stopped, looking at them as a wolf looks at a cornered rabbit. "They want me to return once I have found you," he said, his voice sounding high and shrill, like a child's, "but I would not deprive myself of such pleasure." His grin, wicked and cruel, widened. He held his arms out to his sides, bent at the elbows, his palms facing the night sky. For a moment, he resembled a statue, poised in meditation. And then small, twisting flames erupted from his palms.

Bei cursed. The earth beneath the dwarf's feet rippled again, and the dwarf was carried quickly down the street. As he flew away from them, he began throwing small balls of flame from his hands toward them. The tiny, fiery projectiles sizzled past them. As one flew by Daylen's face, a single crimson tongue licked his cheek. He yelled out in pain and dropped to his knees.

One of the other balls of fire sailed directly toward Bei. The obsidiman swatted it out of the air with the flat of his blade. The ball flew into the dirt road harmlessly, puffing out of existence, leaving behind a lazy trail of smoke.

Su Shen and Bei flew out into the street to pursue the mad dwarf. Daylen got up to follow. As soon as he caught up, Su Shen and Bei stopped. There, at the end of the road, the dwarf stood, the earth beneath his feet pulsing with magic. The dwarf hurled his hand toward them, and a much larger ball of flame flew from his palm. Su Shen threw herself to the side of the road. Bei grabbed Daylen, who stood transfixed. He was pulled out of the way just as the fireball flew past them. It crashed into the side of a building down the road, which erupted into a withering blast of flame.

With a cackle, the dwarf vanished down a road, led swiftly by the earth that carried him. Su Shen and Bei flew after him, leaving Daylen by himself. He rose shakily to his feet. An urge to rush back to the inn and let them handle it came upon him, but for some reason he found his feet carrying him forward.

He turned onto another empty street. He ran further into the town. He could hear the shouts of the city guard somewhere in the distance. The orange glow from the fire was growing more intense, and Daylen knew the flames were spreading to nearby buildings. He stopped to catch his breath. Leaning forward, hands on his knees, Daylen suddenly heard a soft chuckling. He looked up, and there, perched on a nearby roof, was the dwarf, his eyes, vicious and cunning, fixed on him.

"Are you looking for me?" the dwarf asked sweetly. He reached down and peeled a tattoo from his arm as if it were a patch of dead skin. He flung it towards Daylen, who flinched and hopped back. The Cathayan character landed near his feet. It was absorbed by the dirt road like a drop of water in a pond. Radiant magical energy rippled out and faded. Daylen looked back up only to find an empty roof. The dwarf was nowhere in sight. He turned to run back down the road, when suddenly shapes erupted from the earth all around him. Long, snaking tentacles—no, they were not tentacles, they were vines. Animated by magic, the large green vines rose around him like serpents, wrapping tightly around his limbs, climbing up his legs and around his waist. He struggled, but they were too strong.

One slithered up his back and around his neck. It constricted, and he suddenly could not breathe. He could feel his blood become trapped in his head; the pressure began to slowly build, and it felt as though his eyes wished to explode from his face.

Then there was a flash of moonlight on steel. Bei was there, cutting with his great sword through the vines. They fell and withered instantly away, shrinking, turning brown until they were nothing but dust.

Clutching his bruised throat, Daylen tried his best to thank the giant through his coughing.

"Which way did he go?" the obsidiman asked. Daylen pointed toward the roof, trying to explain what happened. Before he could summon a coherent sentence, Bei was off. Daylen ran after him. He did not see Su Shen; he wondered where the Daughter of Heaven had gone. Another part of him wondered if she were even still alive.

They rounded another corner and came face to face with half a dozen city guards. They leveled their spears at them.

"Halt!" one of them commanded. Bei strolled up to them.

"We are pursuing a dwarf Elementalist," he told them in a voice that indicated he expected them to get out of their way. They did not move, nor did they lower their weapons.

"I said halt!" the soldier repeated. Bei drew himself up to his full height, earning wide-eyed stares from the men.

"I am a jade obsidiman! You will not obstruct me!"

The soldiers looked uncertain, hesitant. But then, suddenly, a cackle cut through the night. Turning, they saw the dwarf atop another nearby roof. The dwarf raised his hands above his head and then brought them down suddenly, as if slamming a window closed. And then, over the group of soldiers, it showered fist-sized stones. The soldiers were not wearing helmets, and the stones cracked viciously against their skulls. They raised their arms feebly to protect themselves, but it did little good. They fell one by one into a heap, slowly being buried by the relentless rocky hailstorm.

Bei and Daylen turned back to the dwarf, only to find him vanished once again. They ran down the road and found him waiting for them. He stood in the middle of the road, his bony arms at his sides, the joints of his elbows like knots, the skin pulled tight around them. His palms were facing towards them, his fingers spread out wide. His head was lowered, but his eyes were fixed on them, his lips pulled up into a wide smile.

He clapped his hands together, and Bei and Daylen suddenly flung towards one another. They collided, hard. Daylen saw a flash when his forehead met the obsidiman's rocky flesh, and the wind left him in a rush. They tried to free themselves from each other but found they could not. They were stuck, bound together.

The dwarf laughed his sinister laugh, and began to slowly walk towards them. His hands were working in slow circles before him, and Daylen knew that he was weaving the threads of another spell.

"Dwarf," a voice said smoothly.

The dwarf spun around, his spell disrupted. Standing behind him some distance away, her slender blade held high, was Su Shen. She charged. The dwarf began frantically weaving his hands in the air, desperately trying to weave the threads before she reached him. His hands began to glow with magical energies. He shot one forth, his fingers extended as if reaching to pluck her heart from her chest. Su Shen's sword was in mid arc...

And then he screamed. His hand went flying through the air, landing with a flop in the dirt. He held his stump before his eyes, laughing maniacally at the sight of the stream of blood pumping out of it. Su Shen drove her blade through his rib cage and into his heart. The blood pumping out of his arm quickly subsided to a slow trickle, and then he collapsed, dead.

Bei slowly, but forcefully pried Daylen off of him, causing them both to stumble apart. Daylen rubbed his bruised forehead, silently cursing obsidimen for being made from stone.

Moments later, there was a burst of yells, and a dozen armed soldiers were surrounding them. One of them, clearly the captain, stepped forward. He motioned to his men to pick up the body. Then he turned to Su Shen and Bei.

"Come with me," he ordered.

XXX

"You're lucky I don't have you three executed," the captain was saying, standing behind a large table. His office was a spacious room filled with cabinets and lined with tall shelves overflowing with scrolls.

"We didn't start that fight! He came for us!" Daylen blurted out, realizing instantly that he should not have said anything.

"Precisely; if it weren't for you, he wouldn't have even been here to begin with," the captain proclaimed. "I have enough to worry about with bandits in the hills and warlords to the north without having to worry about a Daughter of Heaven and a jade obsidiman."

The fires had burned wildly for nearly an hour, consuming three buildings. If it had not been for a local Elementalist, they would probably still be raging.

Su Shen had healed Daylen's burned cheek when she saw it. When her hand touched him, he felt the same bolt of energy shoot through his body and felt his heart skip a beat. This time, he was pretty sure it was not the magic.

"We just came here looking for air passage," said Su Shen to the captain.

They were kept under watch until the fires were subdued, and then they were marched, under guard, to the garrison's camp, where the captain's office was located.

The captain was silent while he considered. Then he said, "Very well. In the morning, you will leave my town and take your troubles with you."

The following morning, they booked passage on the Silent Crane, a great air junk whose hull was painted green and red. Daylen stood near the rail when the ship lifted off, watching the town drop slowly away from them.

He wondered if the dwarf's companions would find them, or if his arrogance had saved them. He wondered who they were. Sweeping the deck with his eyes, he did not see Su Shen or Bei.

"They must have gone down below," he thought. He headed for the stairs.

It was time he found out what was going on.

CHAPTER 9

He found them below, in the shared quarters. It was a long, cramped room fitted with several bunks, though only Su Shen and Bei were in the room at the moment. Bei was sitting on the floor, sharpening his blade while Su Shen sat on a bunk nearby, poring over the map. Daylen stood there for a moment, a short distance from them, watching, hesitating. He did not know why he should feel so nervous, but he did. They finally noticed him standing there and stopped to look.

"Daylen Jagaro," said Su Shen, "what is it?"

The words would not come, but then, as he watched Bei sharpen the sword, he remembered suddenly the other obsidiman, the one Bei had called Wang Yeh, and the way his eyes had glittered fanatically when he had reached for the weapon. As a merchant, he recognized that look—he was trained to recognize that look.

"Why is your sword so important?" he finally asked the stony giant.

Bei hesitated, looking to Su Shen, who nodded slightly. The obsidiman set aside the sword and said, "As you know, I am from the Jade Liferock. My Brotherhood has been charged with the service and protection of the empire since the formation of Cathay."

Daylen nodded. He was not unfamiliar with Liferocks. All obsi-dimen came from a Liferock, and all who are born from a certain Liferock were of the same Brotherhood. All Liferocks contained a living elemental earth spirit. This elemental spirit gave birth to new obsidimen, who, like the Cathayan storm children, came into this world fully grown.

The Jade Liferock was, according to what he had heard, made from solid jade, and each obsidiman belonging to it was born with the same texture, giving them their unique and unmistakable quality.

"This blade," Bei continued, "has been with my Brotherhood for thousands of years, passed down from one worthy adept to the next."

"Is it magical?" Daylen asked, still seeking an explanation for the look he had seen in Wang Yeh's eyes.

Bei shook his head. "No," he said, "it is not magical. It has a destiny."

When he did not continue, Daylen asked, "What destiny is that?"

Bei shrugged his massive shoulders. "Nobody knows," he replied.

"Nobody knows?" That was a surprise.

"All we know of the blade are the words that are handed down to us from the first of our Brotherhood, who received it from a Weaponsmith sent by the Passions: The fate of the empire lies within this sword."

"That's quite a destiny," Daylen whistled, his eyes widening at the thought.

Bei nodded solemnly. "It is indeed. Only the bravest and the strongest of us are granted the status of Swordbearer."

"It must be a great honor," Daylen ventured.

"It is," the obsidiman agreed.

"And that must be why Wang Yeh wanted it so badly."

Bei said nothing at first while looking at him carefully, and then he finally said, "Wang Yeh is a traitor. When my predecessor, Feihu the Weaponsmith, died, the sword was to pass either to me or to him. When the Elders chose me, Wang Yeh flew into a rage and left, forsaking his Brotherhood."

"Inheritance issues have been the cause of many family disputes," Daylen said, his mind wandering to the civil war that was tearing the empire apart—a war caused because the emperor died with no heir. But Bei shook his head.

"You don't understand. It is rare for members of an obsidiman Brotherhood to go against one another. We view each other even closer than how humans view their own families. Betrayal is almost unheard of; it has happened only rarely in other Brotherhoods, and never in ours.

"But Wang Yeh did not just betray us, he betrayed all of Cathay. He became a member of the Yiem Jen after he left us, dishonoring not only himself, but all of the Jade Brotherhood."

"Who are the Yiem Jen?" Daylen did not know what it meant, but he did not like the sound of it.

"Those Who Dwell in Shadow, is what it means. More simply they are called the Shadowed."

Daylen had never heard of them. "And they're. bad?" he took a guess.

"They are evil," was Bei's response. "They are a cult that wishes to take control of the empire."

"Ah," said Daylen, "one of those."

"You do not understand, Westerner," said Bei, turning serious. "If they succeed, it will not just be the end of the empire. They will bring about Eternal Winter."

"I'm not following," said the merchant, sitting on the edge of a nearby bunk. He did not doubt the obsidiman about these cultists; Barsaive had more than a few mad and dangerous organizations. But he had a hard time taking his sensationalism seriously. After all, in Barsaive there was a cult known as The Keys of Death who believed that if they shed enough blood onto the earth then they would free Death from his prison beneath Death's Sea, bringing about the end of the world. Daylen viewed such fatalistic cults with contempt at best. Everyone was looking for something to believe in, it seemed. Some turned to the Passions, some focused on more tangible awards, and others turned to insane prophecies. It was as simple as that.

"There was once a race of Name-givers known as the yen'hi'ji, a race of shapeshifters," said Bei, "thousands and thousands of years ago. They worshipped the Dark Warrior, the Guardian of Winter. Over time, the Dark Warrior had grown bitter, because none of the races would celebrate his arrival. Instead they would pray for the return of the other seasons, cheering every year when his icy caress was lifted. But the yen'hi'ji worshipped him, for they were a race that valued the darkness and the cold."

Daylen noticed that Su Shen was looking up from the map and listening quietly.

Bei continued, "The yen'hi'ji and the Dark Warrior waged war against the world. Thousands perished. The Passions finally defeated them, scattering the yen'hi'ji to the four corners of the earth and sealing the Dark Warrior for all eternity.

"But those who still worship the Dark Warrior exist. They plot from the shadows, designing the doom of Cathay and the return of Eternal Winter. Their creed is, "Today the sun shines, but yesterday it was dark." It is a reminder of where they come from, and to what they wish to return."

Daylen said nothing for a moment, considering the story. He could tell that in Bei's mind—and most likely Su Shen's—this was no fable. Then he said, "And the yen'hi'ji? You said they no longer exist?"

"It is not known," Bei answered. "Some say they still exist, though others doubt it. None of the Jade Brotherhood who now live has ever seen one."

Daylen wondered if they were just a myth, or at least extinct, especially if none of Jade Brotherhood had ever seen one in thousands of years.

"Do you believe we will see Wang Yeh again?" he asked.

"I am sure of it," came Bei's reply. "The Shadowed wanted the map, and now that he knows I am involved, he will not rest until he has both it and the sword."

"To what do you think the map leads?" His fantasies of unlimited treasure awaiting them were slowly beginning to fade; if a cult was after it, then it must be ancient magic.

"Whatever it is, I intend for us to reach it first." It was Su Shen who answered. She stood, rolling up the map and tucking it into her pack. "Come," she said, walking past them both, "we should eat."

Daylen realized that was the end of the conversation and stood to follow.

Four days later they arrived at the frontier town of Ginchun in the kingdom of Shui Dei, a day's walk from the northern border of the Jungle of Endless Wandering. It was nearing dusk when they arrived at the small town, and after buying supplies, Su Shen suggested they set out immediately.

"We'll be there by tomorrow," she explained. "We don't want to arrive at the jungle when it's dark."

XXX

A wall of green stretched across the horizon. As they drew closer to the long waving mass of vegetation, Daylen saw that the branches of the great trees were reaching out as if inviting them closer.

A mile behind them loomed Lee-Kung's Altar, a mesa thrusting two hundred feet into the clear blue sky. Marked on the map, they were to head due south from the mesa into the jungle.

Daylen did not think the Jungle of Endless Wandering looked too different from the Servos, a vast, sprawling jungle back in Barsaive. For a time, he had traded with a human tribe known as the Cathan who lived within the Servos. He used to trade weapons purchased from Bartertown—superior bows and steel daggers mostly—for ivory the Cathan's hunters gathered and bark their women stripped from trees, in turn selling the ivory to jewelers back in Bartertown and the bark to dye makers in Travar. The Servos was wild and untamed, but each visit he would arrive at a manned trading outpost, sail upriver with a guide, make the transaction, and then return. His trips into the wild, though somewhat dangerous, were always carefully controlled, and he never strayed far from the designated path.

But here, with the great jungle rearing up before him like some ancient and terrible beast, he could feel a deep apprehension bordering on dread. Who knew what life stirred in the jungle? He had no choice but to rely on a Daughter of Heaven and her jade obsi-diman ally to get him through safely. When he looked at them, he could not see so much as a glimmer of doubt or fear in their eyes. They strolled forward with confidence, almost eagerness, he thought, their eyes fixed on the tree line before them.

When they arrived at the jungle's edge, they did not find so much as an animal trail through the dense foliage, so they pushed through with Bei in the lead. The green wall swept around them like a great wave, enveloping them. Almost immediately Daylen could feel the humidity and temperature rise, the pungent smells of leafy vegetation almost overpowering. The trees soared high above them, their branches reaching out to one another, blocking out the sky, the sun filtering through in thin golden streams. The boles of the trees were thick and crawling with ivy. The air was alive with the strange songs of exotic birds and the chattering of distant animals.

They pushed through the tangled brush, the sound of their bodies wading through the broad leaves creating a great racket. A flock of colorful birds, frightened by their presence, suddenly took flight, disappearing beyond the canopy above. Everything was moist and seemed to glisten and sparkle in the sunlight, and within thirty minutes Daylen was thoroughly soaked from the waist down. He slapped aside a wet, leafy branch, cursing as the underbrush tugged at his wet clothing. He felt something tickle his neck, and when he slapped it his hand came away with the crushed body of a small insect. Pretty soon he thought he could feel the hungry bugs crawling all over his body. The insects did not seem to bother Su Shen and Bei as much, though he thought he saw the Daughter of Heaven slap annoyingly at a cloud of tiny insects that orbited her head.

After a couple hours of marching in silence, they came upon a steep bank falling ten feet to a swift, thin stream. The great trees hugged its bank, the clear white waters rushing over their exposed roots. The stream was marked clearly on the map, and they were to follow it west. They climbed down and splashed along for several more hours until dusk fell upon the waters.

They climbed up the bank and found an area suitable for a campsite and gathered up moss, twigs, and branches, and by the time the jungle was swallowed in darkness, they had a large fire holding it at bay.

With the night came new noises, and sitting with his back against a clump of trees, Daylen found that his eyes were restless, combing the dense foliage around them. He kept itching at his neck where countless insects had feasted. Large hives broke out that itched so deeply they almost hurt.

Su Shen noticed his frantic scratching and came over with a small wooden bowl filled with a thick white paste. He had noticed as they were walking earlier that she would periodically pluck a flower here or dig up a root there and place them in her pack. Once the fire was going, she sat down and, using her mortar and pestle, ground them up.

"This will help," she said, dabbing her fingers into the paste and rubbing it onto his bites in small circles. Instantly, a cooling sensation numbed the terrible itching. She then applied what was left to her own bites.

Daylen watched her, only somewhat aware of the small smile carried by his lips, as she rubbed the paste onto her arms and neck. Against the campfire she was a figure of shadow and light, an elegant silhouette washed in orange flame. His eyes trailed across her slender figure, and when they came across her neck, he wondered briefly what it would feel like to touch his lips to it... A great jungle cat, somewhere in the darkness far away, let out a great roar. Daylen jumped, his heart pounding so strongly he feared it would fly out.

"Do not worry," said Bei, "the fire will keep the beasts away."

Daylen nodded, giving his best nonchalant smile.

Who's worried?

In the morning, they had a quick breakfast and set out following the stream again. The cool early hours were swallowed in a grey fog which lifted suddenly after the sun climbed overhead, replacing the fresh morning mist with the oppressive humidity Daylen had grown so weary of. All throughout the day they marched until the banks of the stream became too steep, at which point they were forced to follow from far above. After gaining flat ground, they stopped to rest. Daylen plopped down on a moss-covered boulder, taking a long drink from his water skin. Su Shen sat down cross-legged and pulled out the map to check their course.

And then something tittered above him. Daylen looked up into the crisscrossing branches and saw a tiny face peering at him. About the size of an orange, the head was covered in fur and resembled a miniature monkey with tall, pointed ears. Its eyes were wide and locked on him in fascination, its mouth formed into a small "o" as if whistling. And then suddenly it vanished behind the branches.

Daylen was about to say something, but then there was a flash of movement. A streak of brown flew by, passing Su Shen. There was the quick sound of rustling paper, and her hands were suddenly empty.

"The map!" she exclaimed, her eyes chasing the ball of fur that shot up a nearby tree. It stopped, and the strange little monkey thing turned to her, grinning wide, holding the map in its tiny little hand, waving it like a trophy.

"Mon ku!" Bei cursed.

"What?" asked Daylen, rising to his feet.

"Devilish little imps!" the obsidiman growled.

Su Shen approached the mon ku slowly, speaking softly. "It's okay, little one," she was saying, her empty hand held out before her, her palm facing up. "I won't hurt you. Just give me the map."

The mon ku tilted its head sideways, studying her, the grin on its lips fading back into the bizarre little "o." It began climbing down the tree, cooing gently.

"That's it," said Su Shen, "just hand it over..." The mon ku held out the map. Su Shen's hand reached out for it slowly, her fingers barely grazing the parchment.

"Ita oota!" the mon ku suddenly screamed, pulling the map back just out of reach, its face splitting back into its impossibly wide grin. It rushed back up the tree, out of arm's reach and turned back to taunt her, waving the map and laughing hysterically.

Its laughter was joined suddenly by several others, and the jungle became alive with a chorus of tittering mon kus. Daylen could see them up the trees, their tiny little heads bobbing up and down as they danced excitedly on the branches.

"Ita eesta! Tin da guya!" the one that held the map yelled, mockingly.

"That's it!" yelled Bei, charging forward. The mon kus erupted into a flurry of motion, moving impossibly fast further up the tree.

They leapt from branch to branch, from tree to tree, fleeing deeper in the jungle.

"After them! We have to get that map!" yelled Su Shen. The three of them flew after the fleeing creatures. Daylen could barely make them out as leafy branches slapped his face, relying instead on the sounds of their tittering laughter.

They arrived suddenly in a small clearing, the afternoon sun falling like soft gold onto the tall grass. Around them, high in the branches, the mon ku jeered in delight, laughing and pointing, mocking them in their strange little language.

"I'm gonna kill 'em!" growled Bei. "You hear me?" he yelled at them, "I'm going to have me a mon ku fur belt!"

"Tin qua gudu!" one of them cursed at him, shaking its little furry fist threateningly.

Then, abruptly, they all grew quiet, their ears perked up as if listening to something intently. Then, as one, they vanished in a flash, leaving behind the map, which floated gently to the grass below. Daylen rushed and picked it up. He turned, triumphant, only to find Su Shen and Bei standing back to back, weapons drawn, their eyes scanning the brush.

"Guys, what is it—," he began, but Su Shen hushed him sharply, her eyes not leaving the tree line.

Suddenly, something large and menacing exploded from the brush with a great crash. It resembled a gorilla with two long, sleek, dark horns like a bull's sprouting from just above its temples. The horns curved out in front of it and ended in sharp, wicked points. It stood with a stoop, its chest and shoulders broad and massive, its arms thick and knotted with muscle, ending in immense black hands that were made into fists, the knuckles pressing heavily into the soft jungle floor. The beast was covered in thick black hair. It snarled at them with a flash of large, sharp teeth, and giving out a bestial roar, beat its chest with its fists and charged.

Bei threw himself in front of the beast, but it backhanded him across the face. He staggered dazedly out of the way, and the creature lowered its horns at Su Shen, continuing its charge. She crouched, and as the horns bore down upon her she sprang high over its head, flipping once and landing gracefully behind it. The beast's momentum carried it forward another several yards before it regained its footing and spun around.

Bei recovered and charged once again, his great two-bladed sword held high above his head. The creature flung itself forward and caught Bei's wrists with its powerful hands. With a bestial snarl, it wrenched the sword free. It spun through the air and landed with a heavy thump.

Daylen ran over to it. He leaned down to lift it, but a muscle spasm in his back stayed his hand. "By the Passions!" he cursed, dropping the heavy blade and placing his palm over his pulled muscle. He shook his head angrily; he could not even lift the blade, let alone wield it!

Su Shen ran forward and stabbed the creature in the side. The blade bit deep, the steel vanishing beneath the fur, but the monster showed no signs of pain. Instead, it ignored her and lifted Bei high above its head. Turning, it flung the obsidiman through the air towards Daylen. The merchant turned and ducked, trying to avoid the colossal missile, but Bei's arm caught him high in the back, flinging him off his feet. They both crashed through the brush, and Daylen suddenly found himself rolling wildly down a steep slope. He could hear Bei's grunts somewhere nearby, so he knew that the obsidiman was not faring any better.

He finally came to a sudden stop, his back landing hard against a moss-covered log. Bei was nearby, wrapped in a tangle of brush.

The obsidiman spit a leaf from his mouth and said, "That was close." Daylen nodded, not understanding his full meaning until he followed his gaze. Just beyond the log, perhaps another ten feet, was a cliff that fell away to a wide, deep ravine. All color drained from the merchant's face. From above, they heard a crashing. Far up the steep slope, they found Su Shen bounding down toward them, the beast close behind. Both the Daughter of Heaven and her pursuer had kept their feet, but the creature was having an easier time of it and was quickly gaining on her.

"Run!" yelled Bei to Daylen, who wasted no time getting to his feet and running out of the way. When he looked back over his shoulder he saw that Bei remained crouched next to the log.

Su Shen reached the log and leapt over it head first, the creature leaping through the air just behind her, a giant hand reaching for her pony tail. It slipped through its fingers, and she landed on the other side, rolling smoothly, and coming to her feet just at the cliff's edge.

The beast dove after her. She threw herself to the side, and as she did Bei leapt behind the log and shoved mightily with both hands. It rolled forward, catching the creature in the back. The beast toppled, roaring and scrambling for purchase. A moment later both it and the log vanished over the cliff's edge, the creature letting out one final roar, which trailed slowly into silence.

Daylen's knees buckled and he fell hard on his rump, feeling suddenly exhausted. Su Shen and Bei marched up to him, helping him to his feet.

"What, was that?" he asked breathlessly.

"Dai gok," said Bei. "It means big with horns."

"Aptly Named," Daylen muttered.

XXX

They found it during the afternoon of the following day, just after passing through a long spread of snags. The bushes suddenly parted and there appeared an immense door of heavy stone against the base of a tall cliff. It was covered in a thick spread of leafy vines and stood ponderously ajar. Beyond it was darkness, silent and still.

"It appears we are not the first ones here," said Bei, tossing his massive head towards the open door. Daylen wondered if the Shadowed had beaten them there. It seemed unlikely. The dirt spreading out from the door was long undisturbed, the vines falling in front of the portal proof of the passage of time. However, that did not mean that whatever was placed inside for protection was still there.

Daylen approached, gazing at markings that spread across the door. The engravings were not Cathayan, but he recognized what they were. Running a finger across them, he said, "These are Creanan."

"Creanan?" Su Shen repeated, clearly never having heard the word before. Her eyes crawled across the images, her lips pressed tightly together in a frown.

Daylen nodded. "Creana is a Theran province, a land of burning hot sands. Its population mainly hugs the banks of a river they call the Great Mother, the lands around it abundantly fertile. But why their language is written on this door, so far away in Cathay is anyone's guess."

The Creanans' language resembled pictures. Daylen knew only a bit of it, and he did not recognize any of the images on the door.

Su Shen reached into her pack and withdrew a torch, holding it out for Bei to light it with his flint and steel.

"Come," she said, leading the way. "Let us find out."

They found themselves in a long, broad hall. The walls were slanted as if falling inward, meeting in a point fifteen feet overhead. Brightly colored paintings, slowly fading with age, of ancient pharons, the divine rulers of Creana, leading armies in their great chariots watched them as they passed.

As they crept, the light crawled slowly forward, revealing double doors made of stone at the end of the hall. They hung invitingly open. Beyond, the light from their torch showed them a large rectangular room, dominated in the center by a large sarcophagus, lifted off the floor by a thick stone slab. More brightly painted images of Creanan armies spread across the walls, as if marching in a parade around the sarcophagus. Included in the images was a line of several slaves marching along in chains, being whipped by an overseer.

There was something unusual about the image, but Daylen was too preoccupied to figure out what it was.

The lid to the casket was carved in the likeness of a pharon, reposed, looking dignified and restful. Daylen knew that the Creanans mummified their dead, and he had heard tales of mummies returning from the afterlife after their souls were denied entrance into paradise. Daylen swallowed hard when he remembered that such tales always ended with the mummy taking its vengeance on the living. When he saw a dust-covered pack of tools lying carelessly next to the sarcophagus, he muttered, "I don't like the looks of this."

They crossed the room carefully. Su Shen placed the torch on top of the casket and began running her fingers along the seams. Daylen grabbed the pack off the floor and peered inside.

"Thieves' tools," he said.

"Hm. So where are the thieves?" asked Bei, suspicious.

"Help me with this," said Su Shen, interrupting his musing. Together, she and the obsidiman began to lift the heavy stone lid, which slid cumbrously to the side. A low moan seized their motions. Spinning, they saw the walls rippling like a disturbed pond, the paintings of the warriors twisting and contorting. Daylen heard the rasp of steel as Su Shen ripped her blade free from its scabbard, scanning the walls warily.

Suddenly, an image of a Creanan warrior tore itself free from the wall and appeared fully alive in the room. Holding a large, curved sword, it charged. Bei met it halfway with a battle cry, and the two clashed in a flash of steel on steel.

Nearby, another emerged, a soldier with a long spear. Su Shen rushed to meet him. Daylen backed away from the fight, looking toward the entrance. He thought it would be best if he fled to the hallway, but before his feet could respond to his wishes, he felt something grab him from behind. Twisting, he saw that he had strayed too near the back wall, and one of the soldiers was leaning halfway out of the painting and pulling him back. The soldier was snarling in anger, and Daylen could clearly see the hatred in his eyes. He reached out to place his hand on the wall to have something to brace himself against, but as soon as his palm touched the stone, it seemed to melt into it, and then instead of his hand, his arm ended in an image of his hand painted on the wall. And that was when he realized what was disturbing him about the image of the slaves: they were Cathayans, and they were dressed in the trappings of thieves.

He struggled desperately, but the soldier was slowly pulling him into the painting. His arm vanished up to his elbow, becoming one with the mural. And then suddenly Su Shen was there, her blade slashing upward; the front of the soldier's face fell to the floor as a pile of dry paint dust. The soldier fell back into the painting, resuming his former pose, its face now missing.

Daylen dropped onto his back, his arm returned and intact. He stood quickly, gazing about the room. He saw Bei in a fighting stance breathing heavily, piles of paint dust around him. Of the soldiers there was no more sign, though several blank silhouettes now adorned the walls.

Slowly, cautiously, the two began to relax, Su Shen sheathing her sword. She and Bei returned to the sarcophagus, peering inside. Daylen was more hesitant, expecting more of the paintings to suddenly spring to life. But after a moment, he finally deferred to the experience of the adepts and joined them. When he gazed inside he thought he would find a mummy; he was surprised when his eyes instead found a deep well falling away into darkness.

Su Shen wasted no words. She reached into her pack and found a long rope and grappling hook. Securing its metal hooks to the sarcophagus, she tossed the rope down the well. It unraveled, and they could hear it landing with some weight down below.

"It's not that far," she said, grabbing the torch and dropping it. A fiery circle ran along with it around the well's wall. It landed on a dirt floor about fifteen feet below. It sputtered but remained lit.

Su Shen threw her feet over the edge and slid down the rope, followed by Bei—who, foregoing the rope entirely, hopped over the edge and floated down gracefully—and finally Daylen. Daylen did not like to climb; he slid most of the way down and cursed himself when the rope burned his palms. When his feet hit the bottom, he turned to see that they stood in a tiny natural cave. The ceiling spread out eight feet above them, and the room was cramped.

A tall narrow passage led from one of the walls. Just barely four feet wide, Bei had to turn sideways to fit.

After snaking several dozen yards, the narrow passage spilled out into a wide cavern, forty feet wide and just as tall. Away from them, across the sandy floor rose the face of a magnificent palace. Around it wrapped the far cavern wall, the structure sunk deep within the rocky face. Daylen could hardly believe his eyes; the design of the palace was clearly Indrisan in origin.

"What the.?" he heard himself say.

"Is this Creanan as well?" asked Bei.

Daylen shook his head. "Indrisan. Indrisa is another Theran province, one close to Cathay though."

The entire structure was covered in bas-reliefs of meditating figures. Daylen had seen similar designs on temples when he was in Indrisa just before traveling to Cathay.

They approached cautiously. When they reached the palace doors they found them unlocked. With a shove, they swung them inward and stepped inside. They found a wide chamber filled with black marble pillars. Against the far wall was a large stone coffin. Above the coffin stood a tall bronze statue of an Indrisan woman, human, with six arms. Each set of arms were folded in prayer, her head bowed.

Su Shen and Bei headed straight for the coffin. Daylen followed, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. As they threw the heavy stone lid off, Daylen, who stood a ways back, saw the statue's head suddenly lift, and its eyes snap open.

"Su Shen." he began.

When the statue extended its arms out to its sides, Su Shen and Bei leapt back, holding up their weapons. Suddenly, there appeared a long, curved scimitar in each of the statue's hands, springing out of the closed fists like flowers sprouting from the earth. The statue twirled them expertly and bound over the coffin, surging forward to attack. The scimitars whirled about it in a ferocious display, blocking and parrying Su Shen and Bei's attacks and lashing out with attacks of their own. The adepts had it flanked, but the statue did not seem to have any trouble splitting its attention between the two. Whenever their swords slipped past the statue's defenses, they cut easily through the soft bronze metal, but it seemed to do little to affect it.

Bei summoned his adept magic and threw himself in the air, twirling, bringing his blade about in a mighty backhanded swing. The sword cut through the statue's neck, and its head toppled with a hollow clang onto the cold flagstones. Incredibly, the statue continued to press the attack, unaffected by Bei's powerful acrobatic strike.

"Destroy its arms!" yelled Su Shen. "If it has no arms, it cannot attack!"

Bei nodded grimly, and the two set about striking their animated attacker's limbs. One by one they fell, until only one arm remained. Unable to defend against both the Daughter of Heaven and the obsidiman, the statue toppled when Bei's sword cleaved through one of its legs. As it lay there, Su Shen strolled forward and severed its remaining arm. The statue grew still, and silence regained the hall.

Daylen came out from the pillar he was hiding behind and kicked the head across the floor. It skidded and bounced off the far wall, the impact echoing through the hall. He nodded triumphantly at Bei, having contributed his part to the battle.

Inside the coffin they found that it dropped ten feet and another passageway was set into one of the walls. It was only four feet in height, and they were forced to crawl. After several yards, it opened into a large room of white stone that rose into a great lofty dome.

"Maracan," said Daylen with wonder, after he lifted himself to his feet.

"Another Theran province?" asked Su Shen.

"Marac, yes," he replied while dusting off his robe and marveling at the architecture.

It was similar in design to many of the sultans' palaces that he had seen during his travels there. The walls were painted with images of mourners dressed in the Maracan fashion. They stood on a windswept coastline, staring out off a steep cliff that overlooked the ocean, its tall waves crashing into the rocks below. Large columns striped in brass ran the length of the long rectangular room, their capitals shaped into the likeness of griffins. At the far end, between the columns, resting on an altar recessed into the wall sat a tall urn made of gold.

They marched slowly across the hall toward it, the torchlight casting the griffins in a soft orange glow. Su Shen and Bei held their swords tightly in their hands, watching the paintings cautiously, prepared for the mourners to suddenly leap from the walls to attack.

When they reached the altar, Bei grabbed the urn and lifted its lid. Nothing happened.

"Ashes," he said, gazing inside, shaking the urn to see if the unsettled remains would reveal something hidden within it.

"There are actually ashes in there?" Daylen asked. In truth, he did not expect remains; the other resting places up to this point had merely been another avenue leading deeper into the...well, whatever this place was. Had they reached the end? Was this the treasure then?

"Is there anything else in there?" Su Shen asked.

"No," if Bei looked surprised or disappointed, he did not show it. Daylen, however, wore his disappointed on his face.

"I can't believe we risked our lives for a pile of ashes," he complained, bitterly, all thoughts of wondrous treasures once again slipping away into the realm of unfulfilled fantasies.

"They must be important if the Shadowed want them," concluded Su Shen. Bei nodded in agreement. But then Daylen suddenly thought of something else. His eyes went back to the painting, lingering on the mourners who were gathered at the cliff.

"Hand that to me," he said suddenly, holding out his hand and motioning for the urn.

"Why?" Bei demanded.

"It's just something about Maracan culture that I remembered." He said. When Bei hesitated, he added, "Trust me."

"Give it to him," said Su Shen. Daylen would later recall this moment with fondness, realizing that Su Shen had trusted him when the obsidiman would not.

With a heavy sigh, Bei handed over the urn. Daylen took it, surprised at its weight. Removing the lid, he walked over to the mural and stood before the ocean. Taking the urn firmly in both hands, he tossed the contents onto the wall in a great gray splash. The cloud of ash hung in the air for a moment, and then suddenly a bitter chill swept through the room, as if a strong breeze was blowing in off the waves. The ash blew away, but where it had hit the wall some remained, trapped in a seam that was not there before. Stepping back, Daylen could clearly see that there was a hidden door.

"How did you know?" asked Bei, running one of his thick fingers along the revealed seam.

"I remembered that in some Maracan settlements, they cremate the dead and spread their ashes in the sea."

Daylen thought he saw a look of approval in Su Shen's eyes, and for a brief moment he felt his heart flutter.

Bei pushed the door, and it swung inward easily. It opened into a small room. On the opposite wall sat a Cathayan moon door—a circular portal covered in Cathayan writing.

"What's it say?" Daylen asked. Though he could speak Cathayan, he had yet to learn how to read it.

Su Shen began reading it aloud. "Beyond lies Ping the Thief, the mighty, the terrible, the awe-inspiring, master of both men and beasts, wanted by women and feared by the Passions. The grand, the great, the master of the Four Winds, the afterlife now welcomes the most brilliant, handsome, and supremely modest rogue the world has ever known. The world weeps with his passing. He will be missed by all. Signed, Ping the Thief."

"Ping," Daylen whispered, remembering the Troubadour's story aboard the Mighty Sparrow. And then it all made sense to him.

"This is the tomb of Ping! He must have traveled the Empire and stolen parts of other people's tombs from various cultures to construct his own: one from Creana, one from Indrisa, and one from Marac." He shook his head in disbelief, his mind reeling at the thought of how powerful an adept he must have been in order to have pulled off such a feat.

"Grand eloquence notwithstanding," he said, "he really was awe-inspiring."

"Well," said Bei, seeming less impressed, "let's go meet him."

The obsidiman pushed through the moon door. The portal led to a narrow passage, similar to the one they passed through earlier. It led them to an abyss.

The passage ended at a wide ledge that dropped sharply into darkness. It was a large, circular pit, at least forty feet in diameter, and when Daylen looked up, he saw that it ascended into darkness as well.

Hanging in the center of the shaft, twenty feet across the chasm, was a small pagoda made from bamboo and rice paper. It was ten feet in diameter and just as tall, suspended from a thick copper chain that trailed up into the shadows. There was no path leading to it, but stretching across the chamber from wall to wall, and attached to the pagoda, was a massive web. Bei tested the weight of it with his foot.

"It's not sticky," he informed them, "and it will hold me."

Su Shen nodded, and with a torch in one hand and her slender sword in the other, stepped out over the abyss. Bei followed closely behind. Daylen was a little more concerned about what could possibly have made the web and thought about remaining behind. The thought of stepping out over that vast darkness sapped what little courage he had. But seeing that it could hold Bei's massive weight—along with suffering from a gnawing curiosity as to what treasure was to be found in the pagoda—he changed his mind. He stepped out on the web and was surprised to find it taut, it just barely sinking beneath his weight.

Crossing to the pagoda, they found inside another coffin, this one of a Cathayan design. Wasting no time, Bei threw the lid off. The torchlight revealed another empty casket, save for a small, life-sized statue of a ferret carved from solid jade.

"Where is Ping?" Bei asked.

"Maybe the legend is true," said Su Shen.

"What legend?" Daylen wondered aloud.

"Legend says that after he died, Ping stole his soul from the netherworlds so he could live as an immortal with the Passions."

Daylen looked again at the empty casket. He could believe it.

Bei reached in and picked up the statue. It looked tiny in his massive hand. He turned it over, examining it, the firelight washing across its glossy surface.

"So this is what they're after," he said.

Something heavy thumped just above them. The pagoda swayed gently as the weight settled. They instinctively looked toward the ceiling, as if they could peer through it to see what it was.

"Should we make a run for it?" asked Daylen, already creeping toward the door.

"No, we should—," began Su Shen when the ceiling exploded in a shower of splinters. She was knocked from her feet, the torch flying out of her hand. It rolled against the wall. The flames licked the dry wood and paper. It leapt with a great roar, consuming it greedily.

Daylen looked up to see a large face peering through the hole in the ceiling. It was inhuman, with eight eyes, two rows of four running parallel, one above the other, its head four times the size of a man's. It was covered in bristly gray hairs that stuck out wildly in all directions like sharpened wires. It had two large, fleshy mandibles where its mouth should be, ending in wicked black pincers that opened and closed, opened and closed.

A giant spider, he realized.

Bei stabbed upward into its fat and swollen body. The monster screeched and lunged forward, snapping its mandibles at Bei's head. The obsidiman ducked. The wall behind him was solid flame, and it was spreading fast.

"Run!" he yelled to Daylen while helping Su Shen to her feet. Daylen darted out the door, Su Shen and Bei close behind. He looked back over his shoulder and saw the pagoda a solid ball of flame. The giant spider hung from a single silver thread that ran upwards into darkness. It tried to rise, but the flames wrapped eagerly around it. It screeched a horrible sound, its body spasming wildly.

Then the pagoda broke apart, its fiery embers falling into the black abyss. The thread of web holding the immolated spider snapped next, burned through by a fiery tongue, and the spider, a fiery ball, followed.

The webs that were attached to the pagoda now burned as well, and the three of them were chased by a wave of flame. Daylen could feel the tautness of the web begin to slacken, and he dove for the ledge. He landed and lost his balance, sprawling forward into the narrow passageway.

Behind him, Su Shen and Bei dove, just barely making the ledge as the last of the webbing burned up. And then it was gone, and the entire chamber was cast into an inky blackness.

They lay there for a moment in silence, their heavy breathing echoing in the darkness. And then Su Shen found another torch in her pack, and after it was lit, the three made their way back to the surface, the prize of the jade ferret secure in Bei's pack.

The afternoon sun greeted them when they exited—as well as a wall of spears. They stopped and stared at the faces that were staring at them. There were at least thirty of them, Daylen saw, two rows of fifteen. The ones in the front leveling spears, and the ones in the rear armed with bows, strings pulled back, arrows ready to be released on command.

They were elves, Daylen saw, but unlike most other elves, these had eyes similar to cats, and their slender bodies were covered in striped markings like one would find on a tiger. They wore primitive leather garments designed to blend easily into the foliage around them. One of them, a woman, stepped forward.

"Drop your weapons," she demanded, her voice carrying an air of authority.

"I am a Daughter of Heaven, if you try to take them it will mean your doom," was Su Shen's less than elegant response. Daylen braced himself, imagining what it would feel like having those arrows ripping through his flesh. He took a step behind Bei.

"Very well," said the elf, and from somewhere above a large net fell down around them. Weighted at the ends, the net quickly had the three of them thoroughly entangled. As the elves rushed in, Daylen promised himself that if they got through this he would have to instruct Su Shen on the finer points of diplomacy.

CHAPTER 10

The sheer cliff fell away to a wide green river below that curved off to the east. Beyond the river, one hundred feet below, was a waving sea of leaves from the tall trees. The cliff was a curtain of stone colored with grays, browns, and greens, along which grew a thick spread of trees that grew out and bent upward. The branches obscured the many caves that dotted the cliff face, inside of which their captors lived.

They were in a cage of wood, reinforced by shamanic magic and secured with a simple wooden lock. The cage was barely large enough to allow the three of them to sit comfortably, and none of them could stand without stooping over. It rocked gently back and forth, suspended by a thick rope tied to a trunk twenty or so feet above them. Daylen felt his heart drop to his stomach every time he looked down, seeing the green thread of the river through the wooden bars beneath him. Their captors kept their homes in the caves along the side of the cliff, but they conducted their lives in the jungle above. They had many hidden passages—under thick brush, within the hollowed trunks of gargantuan trees—that led beneath the earth to the caverns below. This not only kept them safe from predators, but it also allowed them to vanish like mist before a noon sun in the case of an attack.

Occasionally, children would poke their heads out of the caves, pushing their faces through the branches to get a better look at them, and then flee once Bei realized they were there and chased them away with a growl.

It was to the jungle village above where the three of them had been taken. Their weapons and possessions stripped, they were forced to kneel before a podium upon which sat several older elves, who were the tribe's chosen leaders.

"You have been charged with trespassing in Karn Maus territory," one of them, a male, said, his voice deep and resonant.

Daylen had heard of them. Karn Maus was what these elves were referred to among themselves. Cathayans called them the Ki Mao. They were a race of elves that inhabited the Jungle of Endless Wandering who considered trespassing into their territory a grave offense.

"We did not know this was your territory. We are on a quest for the Empire," said Su Shen evenly.

The leaders were clearly not impressed. "I did not give you leave to speak," the elf said, leaning forward in his chair, his cat-like eyes narrowing. "You have been accused, and convicted, of trespassing in our territory. You are sentenced to hang in a Cage of Anguish until you starve or the elements take your life. Make your peace with the Passions."

Daylen had tried to bargain with them, to negotiate, but they could not even hear his voice over their barbaric chants as they herded the three of them into the cage and lowered them by magic to their fate. That was yesterday. It was early morning the next day, and dawn ran like fire across the sky. The Karn Maus had taken everything: their packs, their rations, their weapons, even Daylen's contract and orichalcum case that contained his kernels of True air.

Bei had tried several times to bend or break the simple wooden bars, but to no avail. The magical reinforcements made them as hard and sturdy as iron. "I can't even perform my Karma ritual," the obsidiman complained bitterly. "I need a weapon."

Su Shen nodded sympathetically.

Daylen had only a vague idea of what Karma was. He had once listened to a dwarf scholar lecture about it in the Great Library of Throal. The Karma ritual allows the adept to replenish himself and focus his mind, enabling him to perform greater magical feats.

Daylen wondered again about the powers of adepts. He rested the back of his head against the bars and closed his eyes, allowing himself to fantasize about being an adept. He imagined himself wielding a sword, fighting alongside Su Shen and Bei, battling a horde of Karn Maus, fighting their way to safety.

He sighed irritably. Who was he fooling? He was no fighter. He could not even pick up Bei's sword. In all fairness, though, that thing was damnably heavy. But no, he was not cut out to be an adept. It seemed he was not even cut out to be a successful merchant.

He thought of his contract, somewhere in the hands of the Karn Maus, if they had not destroyed it already. He survived a freak storm on the Desert of Swallowed Tears, a Horror-haunted pillared city, a full scale battle, a mad Elementalist, and a tomb that was designed specifically for the insane, and here he was about to meet his end thanks to a bunch of primitive, intolerant elves. And the worst part was he would never know why that jade statue was so important. It must be ancient and powerful magic; why else would Cathay's greatest Thief leave it behind as the only treasure in his tomb?

His stomach growled. He was hungry; he wondered how long it would take to starve to death. Of course, without water he would die much sooner from dehydration. He looked at Su Shen. She sat cross-legged, serene, her eyes closed as if meditating, with the soft pose of a lotus flower. Her hair was out of its usual ponytail, falling about her shoulders in dark waves. Was she preparing herself for death?

"Is this how you thought you were going to die?" he asked.

Her eyes flashed open, fixed on him.

"I find your fatalism premature, Daylen Jagaro," she replied.

Why did she always have to use his full Name? It sounded so stiff and formal. "You have a way out for us, then?" he grinned sardonically.

"We will find a way," was her simple reply. "We will not fail the Empire."

"The Empire," said Daylen, almost in disgust. His hunger and frustration was making him irritable—along with the fact that she was always so damn cold towards him.

"Your Empire is in pieces," he went on. "What you think you're saving doesn't even exist."

"The Empire is eternal," she said sternly.

"The Empire," he said, "is a dream. It does not exist. All there is, is war—a crazy war that has gone nowhere in nearly a century."

"You Westerners fight crazy wars—wars based on conflicting ideologies and lust for land. We Cathayans fight because it is necessary, and because it is demanded by the Passions," she replied, closing her eyes once again, as if that settled the dispute.

"Demanded by the Passions?" he exclaimed, exasperated.

"Only one chosen by the Passions may sit on the Imperial Throne," she explained, as if speaking to a child.

"Then why don't they just choose one?" he demanded, flippantly.

"That is what the Great Trial is for," she said, patiently.

"Just choosing someone would save a lot of bloodshed and misery," he replied.

"Do you believe you are wiser than the Passions? The Emperor must prove himself. Cathayans know this."

"Try telling that to the children who were killed in that village."

Her eyes flashed opened again, a fierceness alive in the depths of those green pools.

"That is why the Daughters of Heaven exist," she said angrily, "to heal and protect the innocent who are harmed in this war."

"Like I said," Daylen smirked, "crazy."

Su Shen's eyes narrowed, but instead of speaking she shut her eyes, turning away from him and continuing her meditating.

"You Westerners know nothing."

Daylen shook his head, smiling dryly.

"I guess not."

Hours later, the wind picked up, coming in fitful gusts. It rushed through Su Shen's hair, causing it to dance. She opened her eyes from her meditation and pulled it back into a ponytail.

"It is going to rain," observed Bei.

In the distance, Daylen could see that the sky was turning as dark as his mood. Within the hour, the sky was the color of lead, and it unleashed a slashing downpour of rain. It did not take the three of them long to be thoroughly drenched. Daylen pulled his knees up to his chest and his robe up around his neck, doing his best to shield himself from the whipping wind that was sent, no doubt, by the Passions to make him truly uncomfortable. Oh well, at least he would not dehydrate now.

"You three look comfortable."

The voice came from above. The three of them looked, their eyes squinted against the lashing rain. Daylen saw nothing through the thin wooden bars, only the twisting rope and the tree to which it was lashed. By the look on Su Shen and Bei's faces, he was sure they did not see anything either.

"You're not even going to invite me in?" the voice came again.

It was a male's voice, but where was it coming from? And then, he saw it: a ferret, sitting on the top of their cage, next to the great knot of rope, its tiny head peering inside. Its light brown fur was matted down with the rain, turning it dark, though it did not seem to mind.

"Who are you?" asked Su Shen, shivering slightly from the cold wind and rain.

"I am Bik-Bik," it answered, "and I see the three of you wasted no time in getting yourselves into trouble."

"You are a Cathayan ferret." Su Shen stated.

"And you're a Cathayan human," the ferret responded. "I'm so glad to find that the humans' talent for stating the obvious has not diminished over the years."

"Bik-Bik?" thought Daylen. Why did that Name sound so familiar?

And then he remembered, "You're Ping's ferret!"

Bik-Bik puffed up, indignant. "I am not some pet! I was his companion and friend, and, just between you and me, the brains behind the operation."

"Right, of course...sorry," said Daylen, discomfited. He was not used to talking animals.

"How is that possible?" asked Su Shen. "Ping died hundreds of years ago."

Bik-Bik shrugged his furry little shoulders. "You know, a Witch, a curse, a prophecy. The same old tune."

"Witch?" repeated Su Shen. "There have not been any Witches in Cathay for over eight hundred years."

"Well that's good to hear," he said, "never did like Witches."

He began squeezing his body through the wooden bars.

"What about my kind?" he was saying. "Are there any other Cathayan ferrets, or did they finally get the sense to migrate to a land not infested with you bipeds?"

Su Shen ignored the insult, instead only saying, "Yes, Cathayan ferrets still live, and up until the War of Wu Xing the Emperors always kept one as an advisor."

"The War of what?" the ferret asked, having trouble squeezing his hips through the wooden bars.

"The Great Trial," Su Shen began explaining. "The Empire has been divided into five kingdoms, each—,"

"Yes, yes, very fascinating," Bik-Bik interrupted, "but you say that there is still more of my kind?"

Su Shen pressed her lips together, clearly annoyed that she was cut off while explaining such a serious topic. Then she said, "Yes. Though Cathayan ferrets are rare and difficult to find."

"We have always been rare and difficult to find," said Bik-Bik, "that's why it's so hard to find a good mate." His body finally squeezed through the bars.

"But," he continued, "it's good to know we're out there somewhere. I think maybe after this little adventure I shall go out and find me a nice wife. Maybe settle down, raise a family."

He dropped down into Daylen's lap. "..then raise an army."

"Where did you come from?" asked Bei, interrupting the ferret's fantasy.

"Well some say I was hatched from a golden egg laid by the Passions, but my mother says they're liars."

"No," said Bei, ignoring the sarcasm, "how did you find us?"

"What do you mean?" said Bik-Bik, "You brought me here."

Daylen's eyes widened. "The jade statue."

"Very good," said Bik-Bik, "yes that was me."

"How?" Su Shen wanted an explanation.

Bik-Bik sighed wearily. "It was all Ping's fault. He wanted to pluck a fire lotus from the Witch's garden to impress Kwan-Yin, whom he was in love with. I told him he was only in love with her because she was an Enchantress, and she had cast a spell over him, but as usual he wouldn't listen to sense."

"The Witch's garden?" Daylen asked.

"Yes, and a very dangerous garden, too; anyone who smelled her alluring flowers turned to stone! Try to keep up," said Bik-Bik, irritably.

"Sorry," mumbled Daylen.

"Now," Bik-Bik continued, "we sneaked into the garden and stole a single fire lotus. You'd think the Witch could have done without just one, but no. She was stingy and vindictive—like most humans—and the spell that was meant for Ping struck me, and I was cursed."

"Cursed?" Daylen could not help but ask.

Bik-Bik sighed impatiently. "Yes, cursed. I found that I suddenly developed the annoying habit of periodically turning into a jade statue. I soon learned that I could only remain in my normal form for a few hours each day.

"Now Ping and I traveled all over the Empire searching for an adept powerful enough to remove the Witch's curse, but all were powerless. So we set out to travel the world, and eventually we found a Seer who told us that my curse could only be lifted by the Passions."

"The Passions?" Daylen regretted saying as soon as he heard the words slip past his lips.

"You're really going to have to stop doing that," said Bik-Bik, and then he continued his story. "The Passions have a plan for me, apparently. Now, even though I can't stop myself from turning into a jade statue everyday, I get to choose when I turn into my normal form, if at all. The Seer told me that I would one day be found by those who were to help me in my quest; I assume it's you three."

He seemed doubtful.

"Now I," he said, "am to take you to the treasure that Ping hid away, and that should do the trick."

Treasure? Daylen suddenly felt optimistic again.

"Can you get us out of here?" he asked.

"Of course I can get you out of here. Well, provided one of you knows how to pick a lock."

"Well I do," said Daylen.

When Su Shen and Bei eyed him suspiciously, he said defensively, "Sometimes merchants lose the keys to their chests!"

"Good," said the ferret, and suddenly he transformed into a large key ring containing a set of several lock picks.

Daylen only sat and stared in wonder for a moment, having forgotten that Cathayan ferrets had the ability to transform into other objects. When he lifted them, he had a hard time believing they were an intelligent, living creature.

After a few moments of tinkering, Daylen had the lock open, and the wooden door swung wide, and suddenly in front of him there was nothing but empty air. He threw himself back away from the door, gripping the wooden bars beneath him so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Bik-Bik resumed his natural form and said, "Follow me! I know where they are keeping your weapons." With that, the ferret scrambled back up the cage and up the rope, stopping to make sure they were following. Su Shen and Bei pulled themselves up to the top with ease, but Daylen hesitated. He stared out, down to the river far below. He would have to hang outside of the cage and then pull himself to the top. He did not know if he could do it.

"Daylen Jagaro," said Su Shen, "what are you waiting for?"

"I can't.," he began.

He stood at the doorway sideways, his body halfway in and halfway out, hugging the wooden frame tightly. The wind tugged at his robe, and the rain hit his face like thousands of tiny needles. Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted, and for a terrifying moment, he hovered in midair, the river tilting far below. And then Bei set him down atop the cage, releasing the cuff of his robe. Feeling the cage gently swaying beneath his feet, Daylen dropped to his hands and knees, gripping the bars tightly.

"You're going up first," Bei said to him. Daylen's eyes crawled up the rope dubiously.

"I don't think I can," he managed.

"Just grab the rope," Bei said, lifting him to his feet, "and climb. Don't look down."

Daylen grabbed the thick, wet rope in both hands. He looked up to the tree above, which grew straight out of the cliff face before bending upwards, so the rope was tied perpendicular to the trunk. It seemed to soar above him; twenty feet never seemed so far away.

He began to climb. He was never a strong climber, nor was he very strong. The Jagaros were not known as athletes. He had always been thin—maybe too thin. He lacked muscle definition, and after only a few yards of climbing, his arms began to burn.

Bik-Bik was above him, clinging easily to the rope with his little clawed feet. He spun around and ran up the rope to the tree.

Daylen stared straight up as he climbed, his neck arched back, and it felt like he was almost leaning backwards. He thought again of how far the earth was below him, and he involuntarily imagined what it would be like to slip and fall, hitting the cage, and rolling off of it, flailing wildly in the empty air as his body plummeted to the river below.

The thought seized his muscles, and he froze. It felt as though oceans of sweat were pouring from his palms. His arms began to shake from fatigue. Fear was a wild thing loose inside his chest.

"Let your legs take your weight!" he heard Bei yell from just below him. Daylen did as he was told, and his arms immediately thanked him for it. After taking several breaths to calm himself, he continued. When he finally reached the top, he paused again. The rope wrapped around the trunk of the tree, ending in a large knot just above his head. Around him several branches spread out in all directions.

"Grab a branch," Bik-Bik instructed him from above, though he could not see him. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed a branch.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now," answered Bik-Bik, "pull yourself up."

Daylen was afraid he was going to say that. He imagined letting go with his right hand and grabbing the branch. He told his arm to do it, felt a rush of adrenaline, but his hand would not obey.

"You can do it!" Bei yelled encouragement from below.

Instead, Daylen reached up with his left leg and put his foot on another branch. And then, pulling himself up with a branch in one hand and the rope in the other, lifted his right leg and placed it on the same branch. Once the branch had his weight, he let go of the rope and grabbed the branch.

He sat there for a moment, trying not to think about how he was hanging horizontally one hundred feet above the earth. He reached further up with his left hand, grabbing another branch, and pulled himself up into the tree.

He found Bik-Bik there, staring at him.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" the ferret asked him, and Daylen thought he saw a smirk behind those eyes.

Once inside the tree, Daylen felt immeasurably more comfortable, despite his hands being numb with cold. The branches were so thick that it would be impossible to fall out. It was even sheltered against the wind and the rain.

"Come on," said the ferret, scrambling down the trunk toward the cliff face. Daylen followed and found a circular cavern. He climbed quickly inside. Su Shen and Bei entered moments later. The cavern was lit by soft glowing gems set into the walls, casting the room in a pale shade of green.

"There is a storage room this way, where they put me with your things. It is unguarded," Bik-Bik led them down a corridor.

Inside the storage room, they found their items unattended, just as the ferret had said. Daylen scooped up his pack, pouch, contract, and orichalcum box, casting a guilty glance towards the Daughter of Heaven and obsidiman, but they did not seem to take any interest in his affects, as they were too busy gathering up their own supplies.

"I found a way that leads to the surface trying to find the three of you," Bik-Bik said. "Follow me."

He led them to a winding staircase carved in the rock. It led up to a secret door that opened into the jungle, surrounded on all sides by thick bushes. The jungle was quiet, and it was quickly growing dark.

"The elves are most likely in the caverns," Bei was saying, "but we should move silently just in case."

They moved swiftly through the jungle, Bik-Bik climbing onto Daylen's shoulder.

Only fifteen minutes passed before they heard the horns.

"I'm thinking they found out you escaped," said Bik-Bik.

"Hurry!" said Bei, leading them down a steep ravine, at the bottom of which was a swift-flowing river. They ran along its banks, the evening growing treacherously dark. It was not long before they heard the shouts of their pursuers behind them.

"They must be using magic to track us!" said Su Shen. Bei cursed.

Abruptly before them, the river dropped sharply away in a waterfall. Coming to a stop, they glanced up the steep slopes. At the tops, they found their pursuers waiting, bows in hand.

"Now what?" asked Bik-Bik. "I knew you three were going to be trouble."

Bei inched to the edge of the cliff and looked down.

"We're going to have to jump," he said.

"I'm sorry, but I don't speak stupid; could you please repeat that?" said Bik-Bik.

"I'm going to have to agree with the rodent," Daylen said. There was no way he could bring himself to jump.

"We don't have time to debate this," said Bei, scooping Daylen up under his arm like a child and leaping out over the edge.

Bik-Bik screamed mightily into his ear, and while the dark pool of water rushed up to meet them, Daylen found that, curiously, he was only thinking of one thing.

Obsidimen could not swim.

CHAPTER 11

All Daylen could hear was the rush of the water. He fought for the surface, and when he finally broke through he gasped deeply, pulling air deeply into his lungs. He swam for the shore, crawling through the grass on his hands and knees. He fell onto his face and lay still, breathing heavily, the sound of the thundering waterfall a dull roar behind him. His hand went to his robe, and he let out a sigh of relief when he felt that his contract and orichalcum box had not fallen out. He knew that the contract would be undamaged, thanks to the magic Ning-Xa had used to draw it up, but if it had fallen into the bottom of the pool he may never have recovered it. He heard a slight wheezing sound, and he turned his head to find Bik-Bik lying next to him, his furry little chest rising up and down as his lungs fought to catch his breath.

"Remind me to have a word with that obsidiman," the ferret coughed.

The obsidiman!

Daylen rolled over onto his rump, searching the pond's surface for any sign of the Warrior. He saw Su Shen nearby, also scanning the waters.

"He probably sunk like a stone," said Bik-Bik not unkindly, while shaking himself dry.

Suddenly there was a great splash, and Daylen saw Bei pulling himself out of the water, his sword firmly in hand. Su Shen rushed to help him. Daylen realized that the obsidiman must have walked

along the bottom of the pool and then climbed out. The obsidiman coughed out a mouthful of water and rolled onto his back.

The four of them sat quietly for a moment, the sounds of their breathing the only noise. Daylen could feel his heart slowly steadying. He gazed up at the cliff far above. He did not see their pursuers. Now that it was over, he recalled the leap with a certain exhilarating thrill. He never could have jumped from that cliff; he would have sat down helplessly and allowed the elves to kill him. But now that he did it once, he thought he could do it again, if need be.

After a moment, Bei sat up and said, "Let's move! The ki mao may not have given up so easily."

They traveled away from the pond, further through the jungle. They were forced eventually to spark a torch due to the failing light. After a couple of hours, and once they were certain they were not being followed, they found a place to stop near a small spring. The night was fairly warm, but they still built a large fire to scare away the predators and to dry their clothes.

Daylen stripped off his robe and wore only his breeches. He wrung out the silk robe and hung it on a branch near the fire, the added weight bending it down. Next to the fire laid his journal, open so the pages would dry. He was thankful that he had spent the extra gold on an elementally enchanted journal, one that would not be damaged by water: he was even more certain now that the dwarfs of Throal would pay a great deal for his tales.

He sat down facing the flames, his back to a large boulder. Bik-Bik was stretched out on the boulder, already dry and clearly content. Su Shen and Bei were gone somewhere, probably out gathering more firewood.

Daylen could not get comfortable. Despite just going over a waterfall and nearly drowning, he felt filthy.

"I need a bath," Daylen muttered.

"I'll say," agreed Bik-Bik.

Daylen ignored him and stood. He grabbed a torch from Bei's pack and lit its end in the fire.

"Where are you going?" the ferret asked.

"To go take a bath," he responded, and walked toward the pond, which was a short distance from their campsite.

He walked silently through the jungle, feeling somehow safe with the burning torch in his hand. The bushes parted, and there, twenty yards away, was Su Shen, bathing in the pool, her clothes laid out on a nearby rock. She stood sideways to him in the still waters, the surface of the pool stopping just above her knees. Her head was thrown back as she wrung the water from her hair. The storm had passed, and the clouds were gone. The night was lit by the fiery stars, and Su Shen appeared like a twilight-lit nymph. His eyes crawled up her slender thigh, to her hip, and across her smooth belly, up to her—

A shadow fell across his vision. He looked up, startled, and found Bei standing over him, his arms folded tightly across his massive chest. Then he realized just how compromising his situation was.

"No! This isn't what it looks like, I—,"

The obsidiman grunted.

"Right, no, okay...look, I was just.," Daylen stammered helplessly. Bei continued to scowl down at him.

Then Daylen said, "Okay. Right. I'm just gonna go."

He turned and left, heading back to the campsite, his mind carrying with him what his eyes had just seen. When he reached the fire, Bik-Bik gazed up at him thoughtfully.

"Dream on," the ferret said.

"What?" Daylen asked innocently.

"What do you mean what?" Bik-Bik replied, standing up on his four legs. "I traveled with the world's greatest Thief, and you don't think I recognize that look?"

"What look?" Daylen feigned ignorance, feeling heat crawling up his cheeks.

"The look of unbridled desire," said Bik-Bik.

Daylen shook his head and sat down. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well hopefully that's true." The ferret lay back down.

A moment of silence passed, and then Daylen asked, "Why is that, exactly?"

Bik-Bik sighed, "Because she's a Daughter of Heaven."

"So?"

"So? So Daughters of Heaven don't take mates."

Daylen felt his face flush.

"Well so what?" he thought. "I wasn't interested in her like that, anyway." His words did little to banish the hollow feeling in his chest, however. He stared silently into the fire, and he thought he could see the form of a woman arching her back and drying her hair. He turned back to Bik-Bik. "You know, you're just—,"

He stopped. Where Bik-Bik had been a moment before was now a jade statue of a ferret.

Daylen sighed. "Goodnight, Bik-Bik."

It wasn't until the afternoon of the following day when Bik-Bik awoke. They had been traveling through the jungle for hours, and it was clear even to Daylen that they were utterly lost.

"Where are we?" asked Bik-Bik groggily.

"We haven't left the jungle," Daylen informed him, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"Why not?" the ferret demanded.

"We are lost," said Su Shen.

"Oh, that's right," Bik-Bik said, yawning. "You three are idiots, and I forgot this jungle has this effect on you people."

"What effect?" Bei asked.

"There's magic at work, among these trees. It disorients people;

gets them all confused. That's why it's called the Jungle of Endless Wandering." He sighed wearily. "It looks like I'll have to save the day again."

It took several days to reach the northern edge of the jungle. During that time, Daylen took it upon himself to ask Bei to teach him how to fight.

"I'm afraid you're not cut out for melee weapons," the obsidi-man told him in his deep, rumbling voice. Daylen nodded. He could not agree more. "But," Bei went on, "you might be able to use one of these." And with a flash, he held a gleaming throwing dagger up by his face. So their training began, using the wide, tall trunk of an old tree for target practice.

"Imagine that the target takes up your entire field of vision," Bei was saying. "It is so large that you cannot possibly miss."

Daylen grasped the dagger with his right hand, drew it back to his ear, and threw it as hard as he could. It flew down and to the left, missing the trunk and crashing through the underbrush. Bik-Bik, who was watching nearby, laughed heartily.

"No, no, no," said Bei, shaking his head. "Use your wrist, not your arm!"

It took Daylen the better part of an hour crawling through the brush to find the dagger, and several more days before he managed to actually hit a target—and a day beyond that before he could get it to embed in the wood. The first time he did so he earned a shrug of approval from Bei, which he took as a high compliment. He would always make a lousy fighter, he knew, but it comforted him to know that at least he could do something the next time they were in danger.

The jungle finally opened onto rolling green hills, the long grass bowing to the caress of a warm wind.

"Where to now?" Su Shen addressed Bik-Bik, who was in his natural form when they emerged.

"The Wandering Mountains," he responded easily.

Daylen was intrigued. When he first heard of the Wandering Mountains, he had assumed that he would never get a chance to see them up close. The Wandering Mountains were a great mountain range that floated high above Cathay, tracing the same route through the skies each year, taking approximately a year and a day to complete before starting over. Nobody knew precisely what compelled them to follow this path, but scholars speculated that it was the deposits of True air within the mountains that caused them to float. The mountains also contained many deposits of True earth, and both of the rare elements drew countless miners to the range each year, though it took an exceptionally skilled airship crew to successfully perform such a treacherous task.

According to what he had heard, dozens lost their lives every month when their greed overstepped their skill. Finding an airship captain skilled—or suicidal—enough to take them would be quite a feat.

"The Wandering Mountains?" he asked Bik-Bik, "How are we supposed to get there?"

"I know of someone," said Su Shen.

XXX

Far to the east laid Pe Lin, the capital of Shui Dei. The immense glittering city spread out on a vast stone platform that, enchanted with elemental air, floated fifty feet in the air, just above the crawling waves of the Emerald Sea. It hovered a half mile offshore, accessible only by airship. The four of them arrived at a small coastal town and booked passage on an airboat that ferried people back and forth from the city to the mainland. Halfway there, Bik-Bik reverted back to his jade form, and Daylen put him in his pack.

The city appeared to Daylen like a great glimmering jewel, the afternoon sun running like fire across the marble and jade buildings. A low wall ran around the perimeter, with no discern-able gate. He imagined that the wall was designed less for defense and more as a precaution so people did not accidentally wander over the edge in the middle of the night.

Daylen had seen floating buildings before, above Thera's island capital in the Selestrean Sea, but he had never before seen an entire city in the sky.

Hanging above the center of the capital, docked at an enormous spire, was a gigantic nine-mast ship. Five hundred feet long and two hundred feet wide, the great airship was even larger than the Mighty Sparrow. Daylen could see that the hull was reinforced with green and red jade, and the cold, iron muzzles of dozens of fire cannons peeked out from within.

The airboat docked, and Su Shen led them through the crowded streets to a large, multistoried inn Named the Magnificent Cricket. Inside, Daylen was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how bedraggled he and his companions were. The lush chairs, the well kept rugs, the polished wooden furniture, and the aromas coming from the kitchen lent the inn an aura of affluence that was clearly out of their budget.

However, it was not the food or the rooms that brought them there. Su Shen spoke to the human behind the bar, asking for a ship Named Jin'Lo's Chariot.

"That ship left dock a week ago," the man replied, "but it should be back any day now."

"What's Jin'Lo's Chariot?" asked Daylen after they stepped back outside.

"It's Jin'Lo's airship," she said simply.

"And he is.?"

"An old ally and skilled navigator. He knows his way through the Wandering Mountains."

"Do you think he will help us?" asked Bei, sounding skeptical.

"He should. He owes us."

"Well in the meantime," said Daylen, "we should find a cheaper inn."

As they strolled through the wide, paved avenues, Daylen could not help but marvel at the signs of wealth: grand homes surrounded by meticulously tended gardens, large marble fountains with magically animated sculptures that were enchanted to purify seawater, magical crystals set atop tall stone pillars that, Daylen supposed, shed light after sundown, and much more.

Everywhere he looked, Daylen saw only prosperity and wealth, and no poverty. The poor probably did not exist in Pe Lin. The kingdom of Shui Dei was the wealthiest of all the five kingdoms, he knew, but every kingdom had a poverty class. The great and magnificent city of Pe Lin must keep the poor out through hefty taxes, he determined, to keep the city beautiful.

They found another inn, one not as grand as the Magnificent Cricket. While paying for a room, a commotion out on the street grabbed their attention.

"Stand aside!" someone yelled.

A moment later the door flew open, and six magnificently dressed soldiers entered. Daylen could tell by their dark blue sashes that they were Guardians of Cathay, elite adepts charged with the protection of their kingdom. Before the civil war began, the Guardians protected the Empire, but since the war, the order split into five factions, each one loyal to its respective kingdom.

They flanked the door in two rows, erect as statues, three by three, and between them entered a troll, dressed flamboyantly in gold and red robes. His twisting horns were covered in golden paint: a stark contrast to his dark green skin.

He strolled in with his nose held high, and a confidence in his eyes that only a status of nobility could have put there. He stopped before the trio and bowed deeply with a practiced flare.

"By the Passions, it is true!" he said, his large smile almost comical with the one tusk sticking up past his lip. "A Daughter of Heaven and a jade obsidiman, here in Pe Lin! You honor us with your presence." He bowed deeply again.

Su Shen and Bei returned the bow. Unsure at first, Daylen decided that he should probably do so as well. The troll flicked his eyes sideways at him after he bowed, but whether it was approval or amusement in those eyes he could not tell.

"I am Kuai Wu, advisor to her majesty Zao Ye. She desires your presence in her palace. You are to be guests of honor." He addressed Su Shen.

"We would be most gracious," was Su Shen's diplomatic response.

The queen! Daylen had not yet met a Cathayan monarch. He was elated...until he recalled what a disastrous state he was in.

XXX

The waters were scented, warm, and exactly what Daylen had needed. He bathed in a large, golden tub in the lavish quarters he was given, while servants washed his robe elsewhere in the palace. The palace. That was hardly the right word for it. Palaces back in the West were typically one building, of which he had seen his share. But the queen's palace in Pe Lin consisted of dozens of houses spread out over a quarter mile and surrounded by a deep moat. There were administrative buildings, temples to the Passions, wide gardens with large ponds, immaculate courtyards, defensive towers, pavilions, galleries of art, great halls for entertaining guests, and residences for the hundreds of servants that were required to maintain the grounds.

The spire, at which the massive airship—which he learned was Named the Gentle Storm—was docked, soared into the sky from the center of this vast compound. It rested next to the queen's palace, a multistoried pagoda atop a large foundation of stone, with a wide marble staircase leading up to two tall, golden-etched doors that took six servants to open.

They were in this central palace now, in the guests' quarters. Each had been given a room, and Daylen had set to the bath immediately. His eyes gazed at the wooden plaque that hung above the room's door. It was a single Cathayan character, which he could not read, but had been told, was meant to ward off evil spirits and bring good fortune. He thought briefly that if that were the case, it might make a sensible tattoo.

"Where is everybody?" asked Bik-Bik while climbing out of Daylen's pack. His things sat on a nearby bed, the feather mattress enchanted with elemental air to give the sleeper the sensation that he was floating on a cloud.

"They're in their own rooms," Daylen replied lazily.

Bik-Bik looked around, clearly impressed with the decor.

"This is some room," he said.

"We're in the queen's palace."

"Oh?" said Bik-Bik. "And how did we end up here?"

"We were invited."

"Hm." The ferret did not seem too impressed.

Daylen wondered if Cathayan ferrets cared about such titles. Probably not, he decided. A moment of silence passed, and then Daylen asked, "So what are we going to find in the Wandering Mountains?"

Bik-Bik shrugged his furry shoulders. "I don't know. Something Ping hid there long ago."

Daylen looked at him. "You have no idea what it is?"

"All I know is that it's something important to the Passions; according to that Seer, anyway. I don't much care, really. All I care about is getting the three of you to it and ending this annoying curse."

"Well have you at least ever been there?" Daylen was suddenly feeling a little less confident about the trip.

"Of course I've been there! I know where we're going, don't I? I helped him make the door to the place. But I've never been inside. But I imagine it's...creative."

"Great," thought Daylen.

Bik-Bik stretched. "I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat."

"Save your appetite," said the merchant. "The queen has invited us to dinner."

"And when will that be?"

It was Daylen's turn to shrug. "I don't know, exactly. A few hours, maybe."

Silence again. The water was beginning to cool, and Daylen's skin was wrinkling. Where was that servant with his robe, anyway? And then he remembered something.

"Tell me something, Bik-Bik."

"What's that?"

"How did you and Ping escape the giant-king Du Shu?" He had been curious ever since he had heard the tale from the Troubadour aboard the Mighty Sparrow.

"Ah, Du Shu. I remember that smelly brute," said Bik-Bik. "It was simple. Ping challenged him to a drinking contest."

"A drinking contest?" asked Daylen, incredulous. When the ferret did not continue with the tale, he added, "And?"

"And he won."

Daylen laughed. "He won?"

"Yep. Du Shu passed out and we left. And Ping took the giant's dagger as a parting gift."

Daylen laughed again, thinking that he would very much have liked to have met Ping.

The servants returned his robe, fresh and clean, soon after. After Daylen slipped it on, he sighed when he rediscovered the tear. He would have to get that fixed, he decided, and then he and Bik-Bik left to explore the palace grounds.

He found his way into a temple dedicated to the Passion Tswoo, deity of wealth and prosperity. The palace grounds had one temple dedicated to each of Cathay's twelve Passions. He found it curious that Cathay had twelve Passions, just as Barsaive did, and wondered for a moment what that meant.

Inside, the air was filled with the sweet smells of incense, and he found an altar decorated with a statue of a giant rat made of silver. Unlike the Barsavian Passions, the Cathayan Passions were represented by animals. The altar was being tended by a questor in long green robes. He smiled and bowed slightly as Daylen entered but said nothing.

Resting before the altar was a large, open book. Upon its pages were the Names of those who had come to pay homage. Coins, mostly copper, filled the seam of the open tome—a gift from the worshippers. Daylen tossed down a silver piece, picked up the quill that sat nearby, wrote his Name—which looked out of place, written in the Throalic tongue next to all of the Cathayan Names—and knelt to pray.

"Hurry up," said Bik-Bik from his shoulder, impatiently.

"Shhh!" hissed Daylen, returning to his prayer.

Back in Barsaive, he often prayed to Chorrolis, the Passion of wealth and trade ( but also the Passion of jealousy and desire—two traits Daylen did not care to admit he possessed), but he did not know if the Western Passion could hear him in this foreign land, and he thought it best to honor the Cathayans' Passions as long as he was here.

As he sat in prayer, he found that his heart was not truly in it. He felt preoccupied, though he could not quite put his finger on why. Maybe it was the ferret that would not sit still on his shoulder.

"Would you quit it?" he asked.

"It's this incense!" replied the ferret. "Our noses are more sensitive than you humans'."

Daylen stood abruptly, frustrated. He would go back to his room; he needed a nap before dinner. He left, nodding his thanks to the silent questor on his way out. He crossed the grounds, heading back toward the main palace.

But first, he stopped by the temple of Yaang, the Cathayan Passion of poetry, art.and love.

XXX

The dining hall of the queen was as elaborate as Daylen could have expected, dominated in the center by a long wooden table. Sunlight poured in through tall, circular windows, and a small army of servants brought them a steady stream of various Cathayan dishes.

Only the four of them dined with the queen and Kuai Wu, her advisor. "I am sorry for the absence of my husband the king and my daughter," she had said, "but they are away, touring my kingdom." The queen was a t'skrang, Daylen was surprised to discover. Her soft, snow-white scales a stark contrast to her dark blue eyes. She was delighted when they introduced her to Bik-Bik.

"My mother had a Cathayan ferret as an advisor," she told them, "but he passed away some time ago."

Her mother, Daylen knew, was the first queen of Shui Dei, the champion chosen by their guardian dragon to be the first ruler of the newly formed kingdom. It was the queen who ruled Shui Dei, even though Cathay was traditionally a patriarchal society; and while her husband was technically king, Zao Ye held all the true power.

Daylen thought she was handsome, for a t'skrang. She wore an elegant silk gown of a deep midnight blue that reached down to her toes, her head crest was pierced with many fine pieces of jewelry, and jade bracelets adorned her slender wrists.

"What brings the four of you to my capital?" she asked, while Daylen took a sip of broth from his shark fin soup.

"We are on official business for the Empire," Su Shen told her.

"Oh?" said the queen, intrigued. "And how does that business bring you here?"

And so Su Shen told the queen about the kidnappings in the kingdom of Tiet Dei, and how they stumbled upon Daylen Jagaro, and how together they traveled to the Desert of Swallowed Tears searching for the merchant Zen-Jan.

"You visited the haunted city of Nang Xoiu?" asked the queen, her eyes wide with wonder. "I had heard that the pillared city was home to only the damned!"

"Well, there are only Horrors there now, your majesty," said Daylen, taking a bite of roasted duck.

"Horrors!" whispered the queen. "I have never encountered one, thank the Passions. What did they look like?"

"Sort of like.," Daylen began, and then reached across the table to a boiled crab, lifting it up.

".this here. Some were more spider-like. They were all as black as their hearts and hideous to behold." He smiled inwardly when the queen shuddered, pleased that he still had a talent for dramatics.

"But," he went on, "Su Shen and Bei ended the terror of many of them."

"Is that true?" asked the queen.

The Daughter of Heaven and obsidiman nodded humbly in response. "Well done!" clapped Kuai Wu. And then, while helping himself to some steamed cabbage, he said, "Please, continue with your tale!"

So Su Shen continued, telling them about the warlord Shekai and the death of Zen-Jan, and the assault on the mines and the encounter with members of the Shadowed.

Kuai Wu's eyes narrowed at the Name of the cult, and Daylen noticed that he took a keener interest in the story.

"I thought the Shadowed were a myth," said the troll.

Bei shook his head. "I assure you, they are no myth."

"I have heard of such tales," said the queen, "but I too thought they were a myth. This is troubling news indeed."

"What were they after in the mines?" asked Kuai Wu.

"A map," Su Shen told him.

"And did they find this map?"

Su Shen nodded. "Yes, but we managed to steal it. It led us to the Jungle of Endless Wandering, to the tomb of Ping."

"Where they found me!" Bik-Bik interjected, burping loudly. His belly was full of sweet bread, and he lay on the table as if it were a couch.

The Cathayan ferret went on with its tale, about Ping, the fire lotus, the Witch's curse, the Seer's prophecy, and the Wandering Mountains.

"Which brings us here, to your magnificent city, your highness," concluded Daylen.

"Whatever I can do to help," said the queen, "just ask."

"You have already done more than enough, your grace," said Su Shen.

After the meal, Daylen and Bik-Bik returned to his room. Bik-Bik hopped down off of Daylen's shoulder onto a table, yawning greatly.

"I don't have much time before I turn back into a jade statue," he said, with just a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"Well don't worry," said Daylen, "we're not going anywhere until tomorrow."

There was a gentle knock at the door. Daylen crossed the room and opened it, finding a young human serving woman standing outside. She carried a bundle of clothes in her arms.

"I have come to bring you fresh sheets and a bed gown to sleep in," she said, bowing her head in a deferring manner.

"Oh," said Daylen, "well okay." He reached for the clothes. The servant pulled back.

"No!" she said, bowing again. "I must do it."

Daylen shrugged. "Help yourself."

He stepped aside, closing the door after she entered.

"I don't really need cleaner sheets, though. Those ones are just—," he was saying, when suddenly the woman dropped the clothes and spun around, a gleaming knife in her fist.

"Look out!" yelled Bik-Bik, unnecessarily.

The woman lunged at Daylen, the blade aimed for his bowels. He leapt back, just barely avoiding the pointed tip.

"Whoa! Hold on!" he was saying, when she lunged again, attacking madly. She slashed downward. The blade dragged across his forearm, sending fire across his flesh.

"Ow!" he yelled, frantically trying to avoid the woman. Her eyes flashed madly, and her lip was pulled back in a snarl, her arm flashing out like a serpent.

"Can't we talk about this?" he asked feebly.

"Daylen!" it was Bik-Bik who yelled.

The merchant looked, and saw the ferret transform into a small metal hammer. He dove for it, his fingers curling around the handle. The woman screamed as she threw herself toward him. Daylen spun; hammer in hand, swinging it like a back fist. It connected with her jaw. There was a sickening crunch as her jaw crumbled, and she collapsed in a crumpled heap.

Daylen ran to the door and flung it open, nearly running into Kuai Wu, who filled the doorway with his massive frame.

"Going somewhere?" the troll asked menacingly, and Daylen suddenly realized who was behind the attack. He drew back his hand to swing at him with the hammer, seeing that the troll was unarmed. But then suddenly, he felt Bik-Bik transform back into a ferret in his hand.

"No, Bik-Bik! What are you doing?!" he cried.

"Sorry!" was all that the ferret managed to get out before turning back into a jade statue. Daylen looked back up just in time to see Kuai Wu's fist before it connected with his face. There was a brilliant flash of white, and he was thrown backwards onto the floor.

Kuai Wu stalked into the room, and Daylen thought he was finished when he heard a familiar, booming voice: "Hey!"

The troll spun around and saw Bei standing in the hall, his great two-bladed sword in his hand. Kuai Wu reached down and stripped the jade statue from Daylen's hands, and then he spun and ran towards Bei with a roar. Bei swung his sword; a mighty blow meant to disembowel the troll, but Kuai Wu dove backwards at just the right moment, so fast that Daylen had no doubt he was also an adept. After the sword passed harmlessly by, Kuai Wu tackled Bei around the waist, and the two fell to the floor in a flurry of fists.

Daylen used the table to pull himself to his feet and looked around for a weapon. He saw the serving woman's knife and scooped it up, rushing to the door.

The two giants were fighting fiercely, rolling back and forth across the wide corridor. Suddenly, Su Shen appeared at one end of the hall, just as three Guardians of Cathay appeared at the other.

Bei and Kuai Wu regained their feet, facing each other. "Kill them!" Kuai Wu ordered the Guardians. "Those three attacked me!"

The Guardians went to move in, but while Kuai Wu was giving the orders, he had taken his attention from the jade obsidiman. It was a big mistake. There was a flash of steel, and Bei's sword swiped through the air. Kuai Wu let out a horrible, monstrous scream, the hand that held Bik-Bik falling to the ground.

The inhuman scream gave the Guardians pause. They watched the troll, uncertain, as he thrashed in agony. His body seemed to contort and change, growing larger and more menacing. It seemed to fill the hall, expanding. And then a form tore through his rich robes, and the troll was no longer there. Instead, there stood a humanoid bat, at least eleven feet tall with a wingspan of equal distance, holding its bloody stump where its hand used to be.

Its black skin was covered in black fur; its hands and feet ended in large, black claws, and it peered at them all with round, black eyes.

It made a dive for the jade statue, but Bei cut him off, twirling his blade. It snarled and then spun, knocking the three startled Guardians out of its way. It ran and, pumping its great black wings, took flight, crashing through a large stained glass window out into the night, leaving behind a shower of sparkling glass.

Daylen rushed over and picked up Bik-Bik, kicking the severed hand away in disgust.

"Yen'hi'ji," whispered Bei, staring after the beast. "They now know where we are."

Later, they stood before the queen, having just explained what had happened. "I cannot believe it," she was saying, "I have known Kuai Wu since I was a child. He has been my family's advisor for decades."

"The yen'hi'ji are shapeshifters," said Bei. "They can appear as others. It is possible that this one murdered Kuai Wu and took his place."

"Or it is possible that he was always a yen'hi'ji," said Su Shen.

The queen's face was grave. She had executed the young serving girl, who confessed to being a member of the Shadowed. Now came the unenviable task of rooting out any other cultists that might be hiding in her midst. Daylen wondered if she would ever truly feel safe in her own palace again.

"If he was a yen'hi'ji, then who else might be?" It was the queen who asked, but none had an answer for her.

The Magnificent Cricket was loud and crowded when they returned the following day. Jin'Lo was back. He was a dwarf, Daylen discovered, and he sat at a table surrounded by Air Sailors playing a game of dice. Loud and obnoxious, the other patrons of this normally upscale establishment cast frowns and disapproving glances their way, though the sailors did not seem to notice—or care.

"Jin'Lo!" called Bei in a voice so powerful it halted the room. The sailors parted, and Jin'Lo gazed up from his pile of gold coins. Then the dwarf's face cracked into a grin.

"Well, well, well," said the dwarf, while tugging on his beard, "I never expected to see the two of you again."

His eyes came to rest on Daylen and Bik-Bik, and a frown crept onto his face.

"Who's this?" he demanded gruffly, gazing the foreigner up and down.

"This is Daylen Jagaro," answered Su Shen.

The dwarf slowly stood to his feet. "A Westerner."

He let his voice trail off as he walked over to Daylen, who felt suddenly very uncomfortable and very much aware that the table full of air sailors was glaring at him.

"What are you doing in my city, round eye?" the dwarf demanded. "Aren't there enough of your kind polluting my country?"

Daylen, unsure of how to respond, looked to Su Shen and Bei.

The Daughter of Heaven laid a gentle, but firm, hand on the dwarf's shoulder and said, "He's with us."

Jin'Lo did nothing at first, but then he finally sniffed, turned, and sat back down. The hostility of his men lessened as well, and Daylen let out a breath he did not realize he was holding.

"So," resumed the dwarf, "what brings you two to my city?"

Su Shen sat down across from him.

"We need a ship, a crew, and an exceptionally skilled captain."

Jin'Lo smiled and spread his hands, motioning to the crew around him. The men laughed, wearing their pride on their chests.

"Then you've come to the right place!" he said. "Where do you need to go?"

"The Wandering Mountains."

The enthusiasm at the table died down immediately.

Jin'Lo's face fell. He looked around at his men, gauging their response, and then slowly shook his head, saying, "I'm afraid that's out of the question."

"No other captain knows his way through the mountain range like you, Jin'Lo," Su Shen said, appealing to his vanity. He did not take the bait.

"It is impossible. Ask me something else."

"Impossible? You have done it many times before."

"And each time was very dangerous. I have nothing to gain this time."

Su Shen leaned in. "What about your honor?"

The dwarf met her gaze evenly; all look of humor gone from his eyes.

"You dare question my honor?"

"You dare deny us after we saved your life?" accused Bei.

"Saved my life? I think you're exaggerating."

"If it weren't for us," said Su Shen, "that bandit lord would be wearing your ears as a necklace."

The dwarf laughed. "No, it wouldn't be my ears he'd be wearing." He said nothing for a long moment. His eyes met Su Shen's and they seemed to soften, and he finally heaved a weary sigh.

"Very well; I will take you."

His men erupted into protest, but the dwarf silenced them by slamming his palm down onto the table, hard enough to make his pile of gold coins spill.

"Any of you cowards want to stay here then stay here, and you can find a new ship to crew!" They remained silent.

"I think I'm going to like this guy," Bik-Bik whispered into Daylen's ear.

Jin'Lo's Chariot was a two-mast junk. It was light and maneu-verable, which was exactly what they needed. It set sail to the north, toward the kingdom of Feng Dei, where the Wandering Mountains were currently located. It would take them nearly four days to reach the range, by Jin'Lo's calculation.

Daylen stood near the rail, gazing out as the world passed below. Bik-Bik was in his pack, trapped in his jade state.

"So why is a Western merchant tagging along with a Daughter of Heaven and a jade obsidiman?" Jin'Lo asked from behind him.

Daylen spun, startled, not having heard the dwarf approach.

"What could you possibly have to gain from them?" the dwarf went on.

"We have a business arrangement," was all Daylen could think to say.

The dwarf nodded, and then reached out and pawed at Daylen's robe, his fingers crawling across the silk. "What's a Westerner doing wearing a fancy silk robe like this?"

Daylen opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Jin'Lo cut him off. "Wanting to make yourself look more Cathayan, is it?"

Daylen smiled dismissively, "No. I just like the Cathayan style." It was partly true; he did find the Cathayans' art, fashion, architecture, and even culture very appealing.

The dwarf smirked, and Daylen had the distinct feeling that he did not believe him. But Jin'Lo did not push the issue. Instead, he turned and strolled away across the deck, saying over his shoulder, "Westerners always want something."

Daylen saw out of the corner of his eye that the dwarf had stopped only a short distance away and was admiring something he held in his hand. Glancing over, he found that it was his orichalcum box!

"Hey!" he walked over.

"This is a fancy box," said Jin'Lo, without looking at him.

"Yes, it is," Daylen agreed, "and it's mine!"

"Hm," said the dwarf. "So it is." He tossed it at him, turning to walk away before seeing if the merchant had even caught it.

Daylen opened the lid, and his eyes expertly scanned the kernels. One was missing. "Hey!" he called again.

The dwarf slowly turned, as if bored. "Yes?"

"Where is my kernel of True air?"

"What kernel?" said the dwarf with a mocking smile.

"Give it to me," Daylen demanded, staring down at the dwarf, hoping his height would intimidate him. It did not. Instead, it only seemed to anger him.

"You don't give orders on my ship, round eye!" he growled.

"Give it back to him, Jin'Lo," said Su Shen.

She and Bei approached, scowling disapprovingly at the dwarf, who smiled.

"I was only teasing the man," he said, and suddenly a True air kernel was in his hand. "Catch."

He tossed it to Daylen, who nearly dropped it. The dwarf snickered at his clumsy fumbles and walked away.

"He doesn't like Westerners very much, I'm afraid," explained Su Shen apologetically.

"Yeah, I caught onto that." Daylen put the True air back in his orichalcum box and tucked it safely away in his robe next to his contract. "How did he do that? Get it away from me without me even noticing?"

"Jin'Lo used to be a Thief before he became an Air Sailor," explained Bei.

Daylen stared at the back of the dwarf's head as he walked to the bow to the ship.

"Adepts," he thought bitterly.

The four days passed slowly, and Daylen discovered that aside from gambling, Cathayan air sailors liked to pass the time with storytelling. He heard about the haunted palace of Bin-Jong. According to legend, just before the Scourge began, a group of adepts fought and defeated a powerful Horror. Using ancient magic, they stripped the demon of its body, and its spirit was trapped in a mountain.

Later, after the Scourge had ended, the mountainside was quarried, and the rock containing the spirit of the Horror was used to build the magnificent palace of Bin-Jong. Soon after it was constructed, the palace developed a life of its own, and those who entered found themselves trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape. The Warrior Tong and the Beastmaster Lu Fan defeated the Horror, saving the noble family within and destroying the palace, burning it to the ground.

They also recalled the story of the Battle of Pubei—where the late king of Tiet Dei defeated his treacherous nobles, securing control over his kingdom—and endless tales of Cathay's greatest and wisest general, Wu Chou.

For his part, Daylen told them about Shetezara Glendare, the famous swashbuckling Swordmaster adept, and her legendary exploits up and down the mighty Serpent River. He narrated to them, to the best of his ability, The King Who Ruled the Passions, an epic Barsavian poem.

He also spoke of his most famous relative, Mennen Jagaro, who supposedly traveled the netherworlds in order to trade. He told them the story of how in one of these other worlds, Mennen was caught up in an adventure involving a haunted blade that possessed the vain noble lord who attempted to wield it. The dark entity that possessed the lord began summoning dark creatures through the use of sacrificial blood magic. Mennen, along with a group of adventurers, managed to destroy the possessed lord and save the countryside from ruin.

On and on the stories went, back and forth. He found that through his stories he was able to form a bond with the sailors, and by the end of the trip he no longer felt like an outsider. He also learned more about Cathayan culture and spirituality through their tales; many of their ancient legends featured a great doom about to fall upon the world, but through the heroic self-sacrifice of a lone hero, the Passions spared Name-givers from their fate, trading the martyr's life for their salvation.

Daylen supposed these stories of self-sacrifice were no more than state propaganda, instilling in the Cathayans the justification for the sacrifice of the individual for the good of the many: he had heard such tales spoken in Iopos, a draconian city-state back in Barsaive. But it was apparent the sailors believed the tales and the message they inspired, so he kept his theory to himself.

Finally, on the fourth day, he saw them: the Wandering Mountains of Cathay. From a distance, they looked like a great dark streak across the sky, cutting through the clouds. As they drew closer, he could make out shapes. In the center of the great, slow moving mass were the larger mountains, with tall, snowcapped peaks. Around them, moving at much faster velocities, were smaller satellites, which grew smaller and smaller the further out they were from the bigger mountains.

Jin'Lo explained to them that for some reason, the smaller chunks, ranging anywhere in size from a foot in diameter to the size of a large building, orbited the mountains, which were relatively stable. Most elemental miners kept to the perimeter, scooping up these smaller chunks. This was painstaking work and took longer to gather up, but it was much safer. The impatient would sail further in and land on the mountains, but one had to be very confident in his sailing abilities to make it through the dense cloud of debris. Many tried, and many failed, and each year the Wandering Mountains left behind a long trail of shattered airships on the ground far below.

"Where are we heading, exactly?" asked Jin'Lo as he steered the ship closer to the mountains. Bik-Bik indicated one of the larger mountains, deep inside.

"Figures," the dwarf grumbled.

Jin'Lo's Chariot weaved through the debris, at times just barely missing them. At one point, a slow moving boulder the size of a fully grown troll, tumbling end over end in the sky, slammed into the hull. After a quick inspection, Jin'Lo reassured them, "It didn't penetrate! We'll be all right. But that was too close."

When they finally reached the mountain where Bik-Bik guided them, Jin'Lo maneuvered his ship above the rocky slope and set anchor.

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Su Shen told Jin'Lo.

And then suddenly, Daylen recalled the merchant Lao Meung and the city of Nang Xoiu.

"How do we know you won't leave us here?" he asked.

The dwarf's chest puffed up indignantly.

"I tolerated a Daughter of Heaven questioning my honor, but I will not have it from you!" he hissed through his teeth.

Su Shen held up a hand in a calming gesture and said, "We trust you, Jin'Lo. You are a man of your word."

Having no other choice but to put his trust in the dwarf, Daylen followed Su Shen and Bei as they climbed down the rope ladder, Bik-Bik on his shoulder.

At the top of the steep slope they found a small, circular door made from green steel set deep into the mountain. It was without adornments of any kind and possessed only a small keyhole in its center.

"How do we get in?" asked Daylen.

"Simple; I helped make this door, remember?" replied the ferret, transforming into a brass key.

Only momentarily surprised, Daylen slid Bik-Bik into the lock and twisted. There was a great clank from somewhere inside, and the portal slowly swung inward, revealing a long circular shaft, perhaps five feet in diameter.

Bik-Bik resumed his natural form and said to them, "Are you ready?"

Daylen was not sure he was, but Su Shen and Bei stepped forward without hesitation, and one after another they climbed into the darkness.

XXX

Its stump burned where its hand had been. Its great wings beat against the cool night air as it sailed across the sky. Fury beat in its dark heart. It wanted vengeance. Vengeance against the obsi-diman that had taken its hand.

He flew deep into the night, fueled by rage. By morning, it found it: the airship. He landed on the deck, delighting in the way the sailors scattered before it, terrified. They all feared his kind, as they should. For his race was ancient and powerful; they served the Dark Warrior when all others fled from his icy touch. They were the chosen. They were the children of darkness. He could smell the fear on them. On all but one. The human. The large man with the golden cobra. He stood his ground. He was not afraid.

The yen'hi'ji stalked up to him. He towered over the man.

"I have found them," he hissed at the human. "We must leave immediately."

"The Sorceress has not yet returned," said the human. "My orders are to wait here until she and Wang Yeh arrive."

The yen'hi'ji growled. "We must leave now! They are on their way to the Wandering Mountains as we speak!"

He saw a flicker of doubt in the human's eyes.

"My mistress.," he faltered.

"Your mistress will be most displeased if you allow the Daughter of Heaven to reach the vault." It said, finishing the human's sentence for him. Finally, the human nodded.

He turned to the air sailors. "Prepare to cast off!" They rushed to obey him. The yen'hi'ji smiled inwardly.

Soon it would have its revenge.

CHAPTER 12

They had to crawl on their hands and knees. Su Shen was in the lead, a lit torch held out in front of her. The oily smoke trailed back into Daylen's face; he pulled his robe up over his nose, but it still stung his eyes.

Bik-Bik did not much care for it either, and Daylen could hear him cough and moan irritably.

The shaft was perfectly round and smooth, and cut straight through the stone. Daylen kept pace with Bei in front of him, and soon he heard Su Shen call back to them, "It opens into a wide cavern!"

One by one they shuffled out into a large open chamber, the darkness climbing so high that the torch could not reach through it. Their shadows were black giants on the walls. They walked cautiously toward the far end of the cavern, their footsteps echoing loudly, their eyes searching for danger.

At the far end, they found that the floor fell away at an extreme angle, vanishing into darkness. In addition to being steep, the stone floor looked as though it had been worn down as smooth as silk. Anyone stepping onto it would surely slip and fall, sliding uncontrollably down into whatever was waiting at the bottom.

"We will have to use the wall," said Su Shen, moving to the right side of the great hall. The walls were at least sixty feet apart, but they were made from jagged stone, with plenty of hand and footholds.

Su Shen went first, followed by Bei. Daylen stared down into the darkness, taking a breath to steady himself. When he reached out and grabbed the cold, hard stone, he could feel his palms grow slick with sweat. He pulled back and wiped them on his robe.

"Oh that's right," said Bik-Bik from his shoulder, "you're not a very strong climber. How do you keep putting yourself into these kinds of situations?"

Daylen did not have an answer, but he was wondering the same thing.

"Regretting you didn't catch a ride with Bei?" he asked the ferret.

"Starting to, yes," was Bik-Bik's flippant response. "And now I'm starting to wonder how I manage to always find myself in these kinds of situations."

Daylen reached out with his left hand and stepped out with his left foot, keeping the bottom of his foot against the smooth, stone floor, its side pressed into a protruding rock for support. He let it take his weight before slowly reaching with his right foot and right hand.

"That's right, nice and easy," encouraged Bik-Bik, though Daylen could tell that the ferret was trying to reassure himself as well.

The climbing was slow, partly due to the treacherous nature of the angle and partly due to the fact that both Su Shen and Bei each had one of their hands occupied: Su Shen with the torch and Bei with his massive sword.

Further and further they descended, at least one hundred feet by Daylen's calculation, until they finally reached the bottom. When they did, Daylen let out a shuddering sigh. He had half expected it to end at the floor of another cavern. But when had he ever been so lucky?

Instead, the end of the slick slope vanished into a black chasm, falling away into silence and shadows. From the center of the slope ran a slender stone walkway, a mere three feet wide, jutting out over the abyss into the shadows beyond; shadows the torchlight failed to penetrate, leaving them to wonder how far the bridge extended and to where it led.

The walkway rested nearly thirty feet from where they stood clinging to the wall. There was no way they could walk across to reach it; the floor was impossibly slick and steep. Daylen feared they would tell him to start climbing back up. Going down was one thing, but climbing up something else entirely; especially since he now knew what fate awaited him if he should slip. The sweat on his palms grew cold.

But they did not ask him to climb back up. Instead, Bei leaned his sword carefully against the rocks so it would not slip and cautiously turned so his back was facing the wall. He reached into his pack, producing the grappling hook and rope. He grasped the grappling hook in one hand and the end of the rope in the other, and then with a mighty heave, tossed the metal hook toward the walkway. Daylen could almost sense the adept magic guiding the hook as it sailed through the air, the rope like a flying serpent trailing behind. The hooks fell just over the edge of the narrow bridge, and Bei tugged on it until it snagged the stone.

The obsidiman pulled the rope taut and said, "Go."

Su Shen reached across Bei's broad chest, handing Daylen the torch. The merchant's heart nearly leapt out of his throat when he let go of the wall to grab it, but he managed to keep his balance.

With the grace of a cat, Su Shen grabbed the rope and, throwing her legs up around it, shimmied across the abyss toward the walkway. The rope gradually declined, sloping downward toward the walkway, and by the time she reached the end she had to pull herself up onto it.

"Daylen Jagaro," she called, her voice echoing through the shadows, "come!"

Daylen saw that she was beginning to light another torch from her pack. He turned to Bei.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked, gesturing to the torch he held.

"Drop it," said the obsidiman. "We have more."

Daylen did as he said, tossing it out onto the sloped floor. It skidded across the great hall for a moment, casting off a shower of sparks, but then gravity took over, and it began rolling down the slope as a fiery orange ball, and then dropped silently over the edge. Daylen's heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Bik-Bik could hear it. As he reached for the rope, the Cathayan ferret jumped from his shoulder onto Bei's.

"No offense," said Bik-Bik.

Daylen could hardly blame him; he wished he could jump onto Bei's shoulder, too. He did his best to emulate the way Su Shen had grabbed onto the rope and began working his way slowly across hand over hand. He imagined that the floor was only a few feet below him, and that helped calm his nerves. When he finally reached the end, Su Shen offered her hand, and with her help he climbed up onto the narrow ledge, where he remained on his hands and knees. He did not trust his legs to stand.

"How will Bei cross?" he asked, throwing his gaze back toward the stony giant.

"I will stay here," said Bei. "You will need me to remain behind so you can return the same way."

"Oh yeah," Daylen thought. He did not envy the obsidiman; he would have to remain in the dark while they took the only lit torch. Of course, he did not envy himself, either. The thought of returning across the black abyss was already summoning more dread.

"Well Bik-Bik," Daylen called, trying to sound brave. "Keep him company."

"Just hurry up," replied the ferret.

Su Shen and Daylen crossed the walkway, Daylen following the Daughter of Heaven on his hands and knees. It was undignified, he knew, and he could hear Bik-Bik snickering from behind, but he could not bring himself to care. At the other side, they found a doorway as wide as the walkway, beyond which was a long, twisting corridor. Su Shen transferred the torch to her left hand and pulled out her sword. It came free of her scabbard with a rasping hiss.

Once through the doorway, Daylen stood, feeling immediately better with the tall walls closed in around him. Together they crept silently ahead, the only sound the burning torch. They reached a small, cramped room that rose fifteen feet to the ceiling above.

There were no exits. Small holes only a few inches in diameter dotted the far wall, climbing to the ceiling. The holes were several inches deep, but they contained nothing. "Now what?" Daylen wondered aloud.

Su Shen handed him the torch and sheathed her sword. Then, without a word, she began climbing the wall, using the holes for hand and footholds. When she reached the top, she paused, gliding her fingers across the ceiling.

"What are you—," Daylen began, when suddenly her hand shot through the ceiling, as if it were not even there. Daylen gasped.

"An illusion," Su Shen said simply, pulling herself up through the ceiling, using a handhold that Daylen could not see. She vanished completely from view, hidden by the illusion of the rock.

"Come!" her disembodied voice called down.

Daylen laid down the torch and climbed up, though much slower than she did. When he reached the ceiling, he hesitated.

"Do not worry," said Su Shen, "it is not really there."

Daylen reached up, but his hand hit stone.

"I can't get through!" he yelled, fighting the panic carried by the horrifying thought of the two of them being separated by a wall of stone.

"It is not real, Daylen Jagaro," she called down through the ceiling. "You must believe it is not there."

Daylen wondered exactly how he was supposed to do that when he could clearly feel it with his fingertips; its solidness, its chalky dryness.

"Illusion magic only works if the perceiver believes it is real," she was going on. "Set aside your doubts and push through."

He concentrated on the sound of her voice, imagining her just beyond the ceiling.

"The illusion of the ceiling," he corrected himself.

He closed his eyes and reached slowly up. Upward and upward his fingers rose, meeting no resistance. Then suddenly he felt slender fingers wrap around his wrist, hoisting him up. He opened his eyes and found that he was sitting at the beginning of a long hallway, roughly ten feet wide and just as tall. The firelight from the torch he left behind poured up through a square cut in the floor. When he looked down through the portal, he saw the room he was just in; there was no ceiling blocking his view.

Su Shen lit another torch, their last, and stood. Daylen followed suit. The walls and ceiling were black, yet reflected the torchlight in a shimmering haze. Daylen ran his finger across it. It was smooth, like glass.

"Obsidian," he thought.

As they walked cautiously along, their reflections followed, warping and distorting with each step. The hallway stretched on and on, so far that for a time Daylen began to wonder if it had an end.

Then, just ahead, they saw two figures approaching. Daylen's pulse quickened until he realized that it was just their reflections. They had reached the end of the hall, which was a flat wall of obsidian. Su Shen searched the smooth exterior, her fingers crawling along the reflective glass-like surface.

"There are no hidden doors here," she said finally.

Then she said, "Only one of you shall enter."

"What?" said Daylen, looking to her.

"I did not say anything," she said, confused.

"I spoke."

They both turned slowly back toward the wall. Their reflections gazed at them, though it was clear that they were no longer merely their reflections. Their images stood side by side, staring at them knowingly.

"Who are you?" Su Shen asked, peering closely. "Only one of you shall enter," her reflection repeated.

"Which one of us?" she asked. The reflection did not respond.

She turned and handed the torch to Daylen.

"I will attempt to go through," she said, stepping up to the wall and facing her reflection, which gazed back evenly.

She reached out and touched the wall. Nothing happened.

"Only one of you shall enter," the reflection spoke again.

Su Shen turned to Daylen. "It seems you have been chosen," she said.

Daylen smiled as if she was making a joke, but she was serious, he knew, and he did not like the sound of it one bit.

"Me?"

She only nodded in response.

"By myself?"

"Only one of you shall enter," said the reflection.

Daylen sighed impatiently. "Yes, I heard you."

"But I'm no fighter," he protested to Su Shen.

"Whatever is on the other side must not fall into the hands of the Shadowed," she said sternly, her bright green eyes locked on his.

Daylen sighed, summoning as much courage as he could. When he was younger, he used to like to pretend he was brave, but he never was. Life was too uncertain, too perilous to be taking risks. It was better to earn wealth so you could afford the security that life naturally lacked. This hunting treasures and fighting cultists was for adepts who, for some unfathomable reason, felt compelled to battle evil. Well that is fine for them; the universe needed people like them. Let them sacrifice while people like him enjoyed the fruits of their labors. It was not his fault that there was evil in the world, anyway; why should he risk his neck to battle it?

Su Shen's eyes were still focused on him, and Daylen found that he could not look away. Maybe the treasure was not guarded. He could step through, take a look, and if it was too dangerous, head back. That sounded like a plan; that was not too dangerous.

"All right," he said finally, "but if it's too dangerous I'm heading back." Su Shen nodded in agreement.

Daylen returned the torch to her hand and then reached out, touching the tips of his fingers to the smooth obsidian. Suddenly, his reflection shot its hand out. It came through the wall, the obsidian rippling outward as if it were water, and seized his wrist. Before he could yell out in surprise, Daylen was yanked roughly through.

There was a brief moment of intense cold, and then suddenly he found himself standing in a great circular room with a lofty ceiling. He took a moment to compose himself before taking in his surroundings. In the center of the room, spanning perhaps forty feet across was a large circular pit, from the depths of which rose a fiery orange glow. Floating above the center of this pit was a brass cube, no greater than one foot by one foot. It spun gently in slow circles, as if one of its corners were balanced on an unseen surface.

Daylen approached the edge of the pit slowly and cast his gaze down. At the bottom, far below, was a swirling whirlpool of lava, burning a fierce deep orange and scorching yellow. Flames leapt up like the tongues of great, fiery serpents.

"By the hands of Dis," he cursed to himself. "How in the world am I supposed to get across?" The lava had no answer for him.

That was when his foot brushed over writing etched into the floor. He knelt down and cursed when he saw that it was in Cathayan. But as he stared, the writing grew blurry. He blinked, as if something were in his eyes, and when the writing came back into focus, it was written in the Throalic tongue.

It read,

The path ahead lies behind you.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he muttered.

He stood, frustrated. He turned around, his eyes searching for an answer, and saw what appeared to be a door made from obsidian on the wall from where he entered. His reflection stared back at him, waiting patiently.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked. The reflection did not answer, only continued to stare. Daylen was beginning to find the silent gaze unnerving.

He put his hands on his hips, sighing in frustration. He glanced back over his shoulder at the fiery pit, and paused when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a crooked walkway running out over the gap, leading to the floating cube. He spun around, excited, but when he did, the path vanished.

"What the.?" He walked to the edge where the path had begun and knelt, reaching out, pawing the air. His hand found nothing.

The path ahead lies behind you.

He stood and turned back around, looking back over his shoulder. The walkway returned.

"You've got to be kidding," he muttered to himself, and then louder at his reflection, "You've got to be kidding!"

He paced back and forth near the pit for some time, summoning his courage. He knew that Su Shen was waiting for him, and he wondered if she was worried about him. For some reason, the thought gave him strength.

Finally he turned around and, staring over his shoulder, stepped backwards onto the walkway. It was only a foot wide and twisted in a zigzagging path, so he had to keep looking over one shoulder and then the next, slowly inching his way backwards, his arms held out to the sides for balance.

There was no helping seeing beyond the walkway, far below, to the twisting and burning molten rock. The whirling orange and yellows made him dizzy, and more than once he had to stop to regain his balance. He could feel the heat wafting up from below like a Weaponsmith's forge, and soon his robe clung wetly to his back.

When he reached the cube, he twisted behind as far as he could and grabbed it with both hands. It was warm to the touch, as if heated from an internal source, and much lighter than he had imagined. His eyes ran across the smooth surface, searching for a seam or some way to open it, but he found none.

"Now why could you possibly be worth all this trouble?" he wondered.

Daylen was relieved to find that he was able to return by walking forward; he did not think he could have turned around on the narrow walkway, especially while holding the cube. The return trip was much easier, he found, and soon he was back to the obsidian doorway.

His reflection nodded to him in approval, and held out its hand. Daylen reached for it and braced himself. He was yanked back through, the moment of extreme cold seizing his breath, and then he was standing next to Su Shen. He held up the cube triumphantly before her, grinning like a child.

"This had better be it," he said.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" asked Jin'Lo when they were all back onboard his ship.

"Yes," said Su Shen. "We may go."

Jin'Lo's Chariot cast off from the mountain and began its journey out through the dense debris cloud, back towards civilization. Su Shen and Bei were on deck examining the cube, turning it over and over as if to find a way to open it. They did not have any more luck than Daylen had. The merchant was surprised to find that he felt disappointed when they did not congratulate him on retrieving the cube all by himself. He was proud of overcoming his fears, and for some reason he expected them to be as well. When they did not seem overly impressed, he was almost resentful.

"They're adepts," he told himself. "They've done and seen far more than I ever will; it would take a lot to impress them."

Still, it would have been nice to have received a "good job" or a pat on the back at the very least.

Daylen gazed out at the rocks tumbling through the air as they passed by. Jin'Lo weaved the ship up, down, and around them, at times passing so close that Daylen felt as though he could have reached out and touched them. Jin'Lo and his crew expertly avoided the areas where the debris was moving too fast to maneuver around.

"My curse should be ended," said Bik-Bik from Daylen's shoulder.

"We'll find out shortly, won't we?" said Daylen.

"Yes," Bik-Bik agreed.

Far in the distance, a swift-moving boulder caught Daylen's eye. It moved agilely through the slower-moving rocks, slipping through the debris and heading toward them.

No, it was not a boulder; it was a ship! He could see it more clearly now: it was a one-mast junk, its hull sleek, dark, and much smaller than Jin'Lo's Chariot—and faster. It was quickly gaining.

Before Daylen could yell a warning, one of the Air Sailors spotted the vessel.

"Ship!" the man called.

Jin'Lo cursed and began yelling orders to his men.

Su Shen and Bei looked toward the ship, their faces grim. "Daylen Jagaro," said Su Shen, "hold this." She handed him the cube. "Do not allow anything to happen to it." She then drew her sword, turning back to face the incoming ship.

As it grew nearer, Daylen saw that the deck was swarming with sailors. One of them, standing on the stern, was a familiar figure: tall with broad shoulders, it was the human with the golden cobra, the one from the mines. He could see the serpent coiled about his massive frame. Daylen did not see the storm child, however, for which he was grateful.

"The Shadowed," Daylen murmured. Bei nodded.

"The yen'hi'ji led them to us," said the obsidiman.

He was right. There, flying just above the enemy ship, was the yen'hi'ji, its massive black wings unfurled against the sky.

"We're not going to outrun it!" Jin'Lo was yelling. "Turn hard to port!" The ship suddenly swung to the left, and Daylen nearly lost his footing. The ship slowly came about, and once its side was brought to bear, there was a sound of thunder, and Daylen could feel the concussive force of several fire cannons being shot from down below ripple across his silk robe. Five fireballs streaked through the air toward the enemy vessel. Three missed, sailing harmlessly by and striking passing debris, but two slammed into the enemy's deck, swallowing several sailors in roiling flames. Daylen saw one of the figures, wreathed in fire, throw himself frantically off the ship. He fell as a flaming orange dot to the earth below.

While Jin'Lo's sailors reloaded the cannons, the enemy ship swung in beside them. The sailors tossed grappling hooks across, latching them to the rail, and began pulling the ship in closer, preparing to board. Daylen ran back from the edge of the ship just as Jin'Lo's men ran forward, with weapons in hand.

"Men!" the burly dwarf was yelling. "Prepare for combat!"

With a roar, the enemy flooded over onto the deck like a great tide of steel and flesh. Daylen saw the large man with the cobra leap across, and now that the man was closer, he could see that the golden cobra was, in fact, not a real snake but a cobra made from gold, its eyes two large red gems. The bald giant grabbed it by its tail and slid it off from around his body. With a flick of his wrist, the snake snapped terribly like a whip, and Daylen could see its fangs flashing in the sunlight, glistening with venom. Then, with a dreadful grin, he waded into the chaos and began laying into the sailors around him, twirling and striking with his cobra whip with efficient brutality.

Daylen pulled out his throwing dagger. He did not have a clear shot at the man, but he saw one of the enemy sailors on the other ship pull himself up onto the rail, preparing to leap across to join the fray. Daylen drew the dagger back to his ear, trying to imagine his target taking up his entire field of vision, just as Bei had taught him. He threw.

As soon as the dagger left his fingers, he knew it was a bad throw. It flew down and to the left, but by some miracle it did not miss. The dagger's hilt struck the man in his right knee, just as he was lifting his left leg to jump. Though the blow would have only given him a simple bruise, the timing caused him to pitch forward, and with a scream he tumbled and fell, slipping through the slim gap between the ships, falling to his doom.

Daylen was elated. "I did it!" he cried, though part of him was disappointed that his dagger was irretrievable. It was the nature of merchants to grow unusually attached to material objects.

"By sheer dumb luck!" Bik-Bik scoffed.

Something large and dark fell in front of him, knocking him off his feet. He looked up in terror, gazing at the yen'hi'ji that loomed over him, the stump of its right wrist a twisted mass of scabs.

"Run, run, run!" cried Bik-Bik frantically, and Daylen scrambled backwards like a crab. The yen'hi'ji stalked after him, snarling menacingly. With each step, Daylen could feel the creature's immense weight pulse through the wooden planks of the deck.

"Hey!" he heard a gruff voice cry.

The beast twisted toward the challenger. Daylen followed its gaze and was surprised to see Jin'Lo standing nearby, holding a gleaming curved blade protruding from a wooden handle about a foot in length in each hand.

He bravely stood his ground as the yen'hi'ji charged. It swiped at the dwarf's face with its one hand, its wicked black claws seeking to tear out his eyes, but Jin'Lo was faster than he appeared. He ducked, rolling under the blow, and then swung down mightily with one of his curved blades. It pierced the top of the creature's foot, biting down deep into the wood beneath it.

The yen'hi'ji howled in pain as the dwarf skipped out of reach. Furious, it tried to dive at him, but its foot was pinned to the deck. It bent down, reaching for the handle to yank it free. It was just what Jin'Lo was waiting for. He leapt forward with a cry, flipping agilely through the air and coming down with a great swing. The blade of his weapon punched through the base of the creature's skull with a wet crunch. The beast's great frame collapsed, shuddered once, and was still.

Daylen heard a loud snap.

He turned, just as Bik-Bik yelled, "Look out!" and saw the giant man with the cobra whip approaching, drawing his arm back to strike. Daylen flinched as the man threw his arm forward. The whip extended. Fortunately for Daylen, he was not aiming for him. The head of the snake struck the cube, knocking it from his hands. It clattered to the deck.

Daylen dove for it, but the man was upon him. He grabbed a fistful of his silk robe and threw him aside as easily as one might a child, and then scooped up the cube and turned to flee back to his ship.

Out of nowhere, Bei appeared, charging across the deck. He slammed into the human with all of his weight. The man flew off his feet, and the cube flung from his grip. Before Bei could deliver a killing blow, the human kicked upward with his legs, springing to his feet.

"I've been looking forward to this, obsidiman," said the human, twirling his golden snake above his head.

Bei faced him calmly, his great two-bladed sword in his hands.

"Then let us begin," said the obsidiman.

The two titans charged each other, clashing on the deck in a flurry of motion too quick for Daylen to follow, though it was a mesmerizing display of martial prowess from both combatants.

"Grab the cube!" yelled Bik-Bik into his ear, snapping him out of his trance.

Daylen scrambled across the deck and lunged, his fingers grasping. When he stood, he saw that their ship was heading for a giant, slow moving boulder, easily the same size as the ship. He searched for Jin'Lo and found that the dwarf was steering the ship toward the rock intentionally; as the enemy's ship was attached to theirs, he intended to fly alongside the rock, causing their ship to crash directly into it.

He turned back just in time to see Bei catch a left hook in the jaw from the human that sent him sprawling to the deck. The human stood over him, triumphant, and then glanced over his shoulder at Daylen, an evil grin on his face. The merchant spun and ran to the edge of the ship, past the frantic melee on the deck, and leapt across to the enemy vessel.

"What are you doing?!" screamed Bik-Bik.

"Trust me!" he tried to assure him, looking back over his shoulder. The giant was climbing the rail, preparing to jump after him, his golden whip in his hand. Daylen ran toward the other end of the ship, weaving through enemy sailors who were too surprised to react.

He reached the aft end and stopped to look back. The giant was pushing his way across the deck, shoving his own men roughly out of the way. Beyond him, the boulder drew closer and closer. The mast was the first to impact. It shattered into splinters with a terrible crack. The sailors erupted into panic.

The giant looked back, saw what was happening, and then ran determinedly towards Daylen.

The ship began compressing; the planks of the deck exploding into chunks as the boulder slowly tore through the hull. Sailors were sent flying with clouds of debris and dust. Daylen leapt back across to Jin'Lo's Chariot, but his foot slipped on the rail, and he fell forward. He reached out desperately with his free hand, but the rail was too far, and then he was falling.

But suddenly Bei was there, leaning out over the rail. He caught Daylen's wrist. Behind him, he could hear the ship splintering apart as the boulder continued to tear through it.

Something grabbed Daylen's ankle, nearly pulling him from Bei's grasp. Looking down, he saw that the giant had leapt from the destroyed ship and had caught onto him. His free hand held his cobra whip, pulled back and ready to strike. To Daylen, the fangs looked like two daggers.

Bik-Bik scrambled down Daylen's leg, biting the giant's hand. He screamed in pain and his fingers came apart. He seemed to float in midair for a moment and then fell, roaring in anger. He bounced off of a passing satellite and then disappeared from view.

Bei pulled Daylen up onto the deck, where he collapsed in a shivering heap, struggling to regain his breath. The sounds of battle had died away, and the deck of Jin'Lo's Chariot was littered with the dead. The obsidiman clapped him gently on the shoulder.

"You did well," he said.

Daylen was surprised the compliment meant so much to him.

"What about me?" cried Bik-Bik. "I just saved his life!"

Bei laughed. "You are truly a mighty warrior, little ferret."

Bik-Bik's furry chest swelled with pride. "Well, that's more like it."

The surviving sailors began dumping the enemy dead unceremoniously over the side of the ship, while Su Shen set about healing the injured. It took nearly ten men to dump the giant corpse of the yen'hi'ji over the side. The sight of the terrible creature, even dead, provoked fear from the sailors.

Daylen closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax.

"Do you think we have seen the last of the Shadowed?" he asked Bei.

When the obsidiman did not respond, he opened his eyes and found him staring at Bik-Bik. The Cathayan ferret had turned back into a jade statue.

"Oh no," sighed Daylen. "He's not going to be happy when he wakes up." He supposed the ferret's quest was not yet complete. Either that or the Seer had lied.

Su Shen approached and sat with them. Strands of her hair were pulled free from her pony tail, and they fell across her face. Daylen thought it made her look even lovelier.

She reached out and lifted the cube, examining it again.

"We must discover the purpose of this cube," she said without taking her eyes off of it.

That much was certain. Daylen knew little of magic, and even less of researching magical items.

"How do you propose we do that, exactly?" he asked her.

"We will go to my home," she replied, "to the Tower of Secrets."

The Tower of Secrets was located in a deep valley found in the Dragon Spine Mountains, not far from where the Wandering Mountains currently were. It took only half a day for them to reach the valley.

Jin'Lo's Chariot entered the mouth of the valley by dusk, and they flew swiftly above a river that cut down its center, following it upstream. The river stretched south through the misty valley, the swift-flowing waters feeding rich, dark soil where fertile crops grew. Scattered trees surrounded by tall green grass spread up the sides of the valley. Near the end of the valley, modest homes of bamboo and brick sprouted up around the river.

"That is the village of Ming Gu," Su Shen told Daylen as they neared. "They supply the Tower with food."

The river was being fed by a waterfall that flowed over a jagged precipice that rose one hundred feet above the grassy valley at the far end. Just behind the waterfall, up there on the precipice, lay the Tower of Secrets. It was a one hundred foot tall hexagonal pagoda, constructed from stone and bamboo, with a fifty foot wide base. Behind it, a sheer cliff rose several hundred more feet. Two waterfalls fell down from this cliff, one on either side of the great looming tower.

Jin'Lo dropped anchor a few hundred yards from the village.

"We'll wait for you here," he said to Su Shen.

CHAPTER 13

"We may be a few days," she told him.

"That's all right. We need time to inspect the damage from that battle."

Su Shen placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "We will reimburse you for your losses. We are in your debt."

"That's the truth!" the dwarf laughed.

By the time Su Shen, Bei, and Daylen arrived at Ming Gu, which was situated near the base of the great waterfall, there was already a crowd of villagers waiting to greet the Daughter of Heaven and her guests. They bowed in deference as she passed. She returned their courtesy with a nod.

"Long ago, when the Emperor Chon Xi ordered the construction of the Tower of Secrets, he relocated several peasant families here and created the village of Ming Gu," she was saying to Daylen. "Since the Scholars and Daughters of the Tower do not have time to grow their own food, the villagers are charged with that task. In exchange, they do not suffer taxes or military drafts. Like the Tower, the village is neutral; they do not belong to any of the five kingdoms. Their allegiance is only to the Empire."

The wind tumbled through the tall grass as they traveled up a narrow, winding path that had long been trampled flat by countless travelers. Along the way, Daylen spotted a nightingale floating amongst the brightly colored flowers, and it began singing its whistling tune as they passed.

When they reached the top of the path, Daylen was surprised by how large the tower actually was. The two waterfalls that dropped on either side of the tower from the soaring cliff behind it ran around its base in small streams, over which spanned two narrow, arched bridges.

Between the tower and the streams rested several gardens of fruits, vegetables, and various herbs. Beyond the streams were groves of willow trees. The entire area was covered in a fine mist that rolled off of the twin waterfalls behind the tower.

"The initiate Scholars and Daughters of Heaven tend these gardens," said Su Shen as they crossed one of the bridges. "It helps them learn responsibility."

They approached the doors at the base of the tower, which swung inward, compelled by magic, when they neared. Inside was a dim room of dark gray stone lit by large, flickering torches set in the walls. On the far wall was a marble statue of a phoenix, its wings spread wide. A thin seam ran down its center, as if it could open.

Su Shen noticed Daylen's interest. "Beyond the phoenix lies the entrance to the lower catacombs, where the Scholars catalogue and store countless books, scrolls, and artifacts, both mundane and magical. Only a Warden Scholar or one of higher rank can cause the marble phoenix to open its wings." she said with a certain pride.

"Why is it protected so?" asked Daylen. He had heard of this before; he had spoken with a traveling Scholar while in Heng Na, shortly after he had arrived in Cathay, but he still did not understand fully the reasoning behind their obsession with knowledge.

"Because knowledge is power, and power corrupts and must be kept safe from those who would abuse it," a deep voice said from behind them.

They turned to see an old man, a human, enter through a vaulted doorway. He was a tall man, at least six foot, which was considerable for a Cathayan, and lean. He wore an elegant robe of purple silk with fine gold trim that fell down to the floor, hiding his feet. A long white beard reached down to his waist, and it had been a long time since the top of his head had grown a single hair.

His hand wrapped around a long wooden staff, easily five feet in length, which broadened at the top into a small platform. Hovering about an inch above this platform shone a pale white orb of pure energy, which glowed softly as the light of a full moon.

"We Chang!" cried Su Shen, smiling.

The old man bowed. "Su Shen, it is good to see you healthy and alive." He cast his gaze at the jade obsidiman. "And you Bei; it is good to see you again as well."

Bei bowed. "It is an honor to be here once again."

The old man's eyes settled on Daylen. The merchant smiled politely and offered his best bow.

The old man smiled and said, "You are a Westerner."

"Yes," said Daylen, and then a troubling thought occurred to him. "Are foreigners allowed here.?"

We Chang nodded. "Yes. We have had Westerners here before."

That news surprised Daylen somewhat.

"Where in the West are you from?" the old man asked him.

"I am from a city Named Bartertown. It is in a province known as Barsaive."

The old man nodded again, knowingly. "Yes. We have had a Westerner visit us from Barsaive before."

That news really surprised him. He thought he was the first Barsaivian to enter Cathay!

"Really?" he asked. "Who?"

"It was an ork woman. Her Name was Krathis Gron."

Daylen should have known; he had heard that Krathis Gron had traveled to the East to study mystic knowledge. Krathis Gron had returned to Barsaive and resurrected the ancient ork kingdom of Cara Fahd, bringing her ork brethren together to found a nation where they could govern themselves, something that had not existed for the orks of Barsaive since before the Scourge.

"I have heard of her," said Daylen. "I did not know she studied here at the Tower of Secrets."

"I am not surprised," said We Chang. "Those who study the secrets here must take an oath never to reveal what they learned. To betray that oath carries consequences that are most.severe."

Even though the man's voice was gentle, his words sent chills down the merchant's spine.

"Come," the old man said, turning back through the doorway, expecting them to fall behind.

As they followed him down a well lit hallway, they passed many other Scholars. Most of them wore blue robes with yellow trim, but Daylen saw some with black robes and green trim. He did not see any other who wore purple with gold, as We Chang did. He did not know what it meant, but the way We Chang seemed to command respect as he passed lent Daylen the suspicion the colors of the robe signified rank.

Of other Daughters of Heaven, he saw no sign, but he did pass many young children, young boys and girls of various Name-giver races. The girls all wore white robes while the boys tan or brown.

"Who are all these children?" Daylen asked their guide.

"They are initiates," We Chang responded over his shoulder.

"But they're so young!" said Daylen in wonder.

Su Shen said, "Children are brought to the Tower at a very young age. If they are deemed worthy of the honor, they begin their training as young as the age of five years. If they do not show the aptitude, they are taken to the village of Ming Gu and adopted by a family there."

"Who brings them here? Where do they all come from?" There seemed to be so many.

"In the past," said We Chang, "families made the long journey here for the honor of having their child chosen to be either a Scholar or a Daughter, but it is rare for such a thing to happen now, with the war. Most of our initiates are brought to us by returning Daughters or Scholars who find children orphaned from the war while out in the Empire performing their duties. Su Shen has brought back three children—two girls and one boy—since she began her duties as a Daughter of Heaven."

Daylen looked at her, and thought he saw a flicker of emotion in her green eyes, though of what emotion he could not say. "How do you decide what they will be?" he asked. "A Daughter or a Scholar?" He figured that only women could be Daughters, but he wondered if women could also be Scholars.

"Only males may be Scholars and only females may be Daughters," answered Su Shen.

Daylen nodded, expecting as much. The Cathayans honored duality; it was part of what they called Yen and Yeng, Named after the two cosmic dragons that they believed created Heaven and Earth.

"What of you, Bei?" asked We Chang as they turned up a stairwell. "Have you come any closer to discovering the meaning behind the riddle to your sword?"

"Not yet," was Bei's response. "The answer still eludes me."

"Perhaps you were not meant to discover its meaning," offered the Scholar.

"Perhaps your destiny is to just be a Swordbearer and one day pass it on to one of your kin, like so many before you."

Bei nodded, though the Scholar could not see. "Perhaps."

Daylen wondered if the obsidiman coveted things the way he did; he wondered if his quest to unlock the secret of his sword drove him the same way the desire for success had driven him his entire life. Do jade obsidimen know the pains of want? Are they capable of it?

He and Bei were led to separate quarters, just a few doors down from one another. They were given rooms belonging to Scholars who were currently away from the tower, traveling the Empire in their never-ending pursuit of knowledge. They were frugal quarters, with only a narrow feather bed, washbasin, and wardrobe.

Su Shen was taken to report to her Master, and they were told that they would be summoned later that evening for a meal.

After washing his face, Daylen peeked out of his room and asked a passing Scholar if he had the time to teach him about the tower and its history. He decided that it was time to catch up on his journal, and The Tower of Secrets would make a splendid entry. The Scholar had an errand to run, but he returned a short time later with several scrolls and began reading from them.

Daylen learned that the location of the Tower of Secrets was a place of legend. According to the Cathayans' history, the first Emperor of Cathay, Tai Xi, came upon this valley while out exploring the countryside with his son. He discovered a phoenix bird throwing itself off of the jagged precipice, just next to the great waterfall, to plummet to the earth below. When it died, it burst instantly into flames and was reborn. It would then fly back to the top and kill itself once again.

When Tai Xi asked the majestic bird what was driving it to kill itself over and over, the bird responded that its mate had been stolen by a giant. So Tai Xi traveled to the giant, who had the phoenix trapped in a cage, high in the bitter cold mountains. The giant explained that he had taken the bird so he might stay warm. Thus, Tai Xi set out and slew the great Ki-ru tiger and fashioned from its pelt a mighty cloak to keep the giant warm. In his gratitude, the giant released the phoenix, who returned to its mate.

This was not the only tale that tied the Tower of Secrets with the mythic bird. According to another legend, the discipline of the Daughter of Heaven was first created by a great phoenix Named Yu Mi. Yu Mi was impressed by the selfless sacrifice of three human sisters who traveled the Empire healing the sick and injured, often exposing themselves to danger. So as a reward for their courage and empathy, Yu Mi taught them the magic of the phoenix, for the phoenix has great healing powers.

The Tower of Secrets itself was commissioned by the Emperor Chon Xi, who felt that some knowledge was too powerful to be allowed access by just anyone. To that end, the Scholars were tasked with the gathering and protecting of the secrets of the Empire—a task they took very seriously.

During the War of Wu Xing, the Tower of Secrets has remained strictly neutral. They do not side with any of the five kingdoms, and none who have allegiance to any of the five kingdoms may study within its walls, for they may use the knowledge to further the agenda of their kingdom. Those who hope to study at the Tower, the Scholar told Daylen, must first pass a Test of Neutrality and then take an oath to never share their knowledge. The Scholar was ambiguous about what happened to the person who broke an oath, but Daylen remembered We Chang's words: to betray that oath carries consequences that are most...severe.

The Scholar also recounted for Daylen more Cathayan legends, such as the cursed palace of Sheng, Queen of Scorpions; the dark forest known as the Realm of Twilight; and the ghost ship Named the Black Swallow that haunts the skies of Cathay, plus many others. The Scholar seemed to take great pleasure in telling the legends, and so spoke for hours.

After a time, the Scholar had to leave. Daylen thanked him, bowing deeply. After he was gone, Daylen grew restless, wondering when they would be summoned for dinner. Finally he stood and left his room, deciding to visit Bei in his quarters. When he knocked there was no answer, so he slowly pushed open the thin wooden door.

"Hello?" he called upon entering.

Bei sat cross-legged in the center of the floor; no, just above the floor. Daylen saw that he was floating a few inches off the ground, serene and steady. He held his two-bladed sword in his hands, twirling it expertly around him in a series of exercises. Daylen knew that the Warrior was performing his Karma ritual, so did not move to interrupt. He wondered what the Karma ritual was for Merchant adepts. After several more minutes, the obsidiman completed the ritual, floated slowly back down to the floor, and then stood.

"What is it?" the obsidiman asked.

"I was growing restless," he replied. "Just wondering how much longer we'll have to wait."

Then, as if on cue, a Scholar appeared in the doorway just behind him. "Your presence is required," the young dwarf said.

They were led to a small dining room on an upper floor. They sat at a low table and were soon joined by We Chang and Su Shen.

"We will be staying here for a week," Su Shen told them as she sat. "I must train and be tested to be initiated into the next Circle of my Discipline."

"And while our young Daughter of Heaven trains for her Discipline," said We Chang, "I will study the cube and try to uncover its mysteries."

Daylen looked to Su Shen. "Next Circle?"

"As Daughters increase in knowledge and power," she said, "they are tested. It takes some time to complete. If I pass, I will be granted a new pearl for my bracer and be introduced to deeper mysteries of my Discipline."

She held up her leather bracer, and Daylen saw that she already had five set into it. For the first time, he recognized that they formed a pattern: the beginnings of an image of a phoenix.

"It will take me a week to study the magic of the cube," We Chang said. "And I am quite certain it is magical. Within that time, I hope to unlock the secrets of its True pattern, discovering what must be learned in order to tap into its magic."

Daylen only partly understood; the depths of the magical theory revolving around patterns were lost on him, but he got the idea. He had heard of a True pattern before. Every Named object, person, and place had a True pattern. A pattern was the magical blueprint of things in astral space. By studying an object's True pattern, a adept could manipulate or tap into the magic of the object.

Servants, young initiate Daughters and Scholars, brought them dishes. Daylen had not realized how hungry he was until the smells hit his nose. Their meal began to pass in silence (Daylen was even beginning to finally become a competent user of the kuaizi), until Daylen recalled a question that had been tugging at his mind.

"Are there no other Daughters of Heaven in the tower? I have seen only Scholars," he asked.

"There are only a few," said We Chang. "Most are out performing their duties for the Empire."

"My Master is here," said Su Shen. "But there are often more Scholars present at the Tower of Secrets at any one time than Daughters."

We Chang nodded in agreement. "Yes, our studies at times keep us here at the tower for many months. We have a library of knowledge underneath these walls in the catacombs below, and we can easily become lost in the old dusty tomes if we allow it."

"Who is...," Daylen began, struggling for the right words, "...in charge here?"

We Chang answered, "We listen to the wisdom of the Eight Immortals."

Daylen shook his head. "Who?"

"The Eight Immortals," We Chang explained, "are four Daughters and four Scholars of incredible skill and accomplishment. They reside in the uppermost level of the Tower. Their lives are extended by ancient and powerful magic, and they serve for one hundred years before stepping down to be replaced."

"Fascinating," said Daylen. "One hundred years is a long time."

"Indeed. The magic could extend them indefinitely, but it is hard on the mind. Beyond one hundred years they risk insanity. A lesson learned the hard way over several millennia ago."

"And the Eight Immortals report to the Emperor, I take it?"

"Yes, but as there is currently no Emperor, the Eight Immortals hold their own council."

"Do you think I could meet them?" Daylen asked, taking a sip of his tea.

The old man shrugged. "They do not entertain visitors. If they request your presence, then you will meet them."

Daylen nodded, understanding that that was unlikely.

After dinner, Daylen returned to his room, exhausted, and fell straight into a deep, dreamless sleep. He awoke to warm sunshine on his face and a weight on his chest. His eyes fluttered slowly opened to find that the sunshine poured in through a small circular window above his bed, and the weight on his chest was from Bik-Bik, who sat staring at him.

"Good morning," said the ferret, not cheerfully. He stepped off onto the bed while Daylen threw back the covers and stood.

"My curse was not removed," Bik-Bik told him as the merchant tossed on his torn silk robe.

"Yes. I noticed that."

Daylen crossed the room and reached into the water basin, splashing some onto his face.

"Where are we?" asked Bik-Bik, changing the subject.

"The Tower of Secrets. We'll be here for about a week while Su Shen trains and the Scholars study the cube."

"The Tower of Secrets.," Bik-Bik mused. "I wonder if the Scholars can help me."

Daylen had not thought of that. "I don't see the harm in asking." Besides, Daylen did not know what else to do for the rest of the week, and who else besides the Scholars of Cathay could possibly help the poor cursed ferret? They had thousands of years of magical lore tucked away beneath the tower; surely they could do something.

"We can do nothing," We Chang told them with a heavy sigh after they had asked. "We are not magicians, and what legends we have regarding Witch curses, only speak of deeds that must be performed in order to break them."

"But I performed the deed!" cried Bik-Bik in protest, as if by putting up an argument he could change reality.

"Yes, little one," said We Chang, "and a legendary deed it was. However, perhaps your fate is more intertwined with this object than you had first purposed."

"Or maybe the Seer was nuts," said Bik-Bik bitterly, voicing Daylen's unspoken thoughts.

"It is unlikely," said the Scholar. "Seers are renowned for their wisdom and clarity."

"Well maybe we could find another Seer?" said Bik-Bik hopefully. "And I could get another reading?"

We Chang shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid Seers are so rare that many wonder if any are left. Even we Scholars have not encountered a Seer since the end of the Scourge."

Bik-Bik huffed. "It's all Ping's fault," he complained, "him and that stupid flower."

"Now, now," We Chang chastised, "self pity is the opiate of fools. I expect better from a Cathayan ferret."

Daylen was reminded of the Cathayan folk tale that spoke of the young boy whose toy broke. Angry, the boy sat with his arms folded, refusing to move until the toy fixed itself. The boy sat that way until he was an old man, his life wasted.

"I know, I know," Bik-Bik mumbled, and then said to Daylen, "Looks like I'm stuck with you three for a while longer."

Daylen did not bother correcting him that they would be stuck with him, though in fact he was beginning to grow fond of the ornery little guy.

The week went by slowly. Daylen spent much of it writing in his journal, recounting the experiences of the past weeks. He even had an opportunity to speak with Su Shen more about her discipline, which she seemed only more than happy to talk about. There was an obvious pride in her voice when she spoke of it, and Daylen could not think of anyone else he had ever met who was so dedicated and proud of what he did.

Daylen felt envious. This was not unusual, but normally he felt envious over someone's wealth. Never before had he considered the possibility of feeling fulfilled through believing in one's own cause. To him, success had always been measured in stacks of silver pieces. He still did not think this life was for him, but he no longer held the illusion that Su Shen's life was a wasted one.

Finally, We Chang came to them with the news of what he had discovered. "Through my studies of ancient legends, I learned that the cube is called the Container of Kai Shi. It is but a container for whatever lies within. However, the Container of Kai Shi is not its True Name. In order to reveal the way to open the cube, you must learn its Name. That knowledge is not available here at the tower. You must discover this Name for yourselves."

Daylen understood the importance of an item's Name. A Name was the single most important aspect of an object's True pattern. A Name made something unique, and only items with Names could become objects of magical power. That was why sentient beings capable of Naming were called Name-givers.

"Do you have any idea where we should begin looking?" asked Su Shen, not at all daunted by the quest set down before them.

We Chang nodded solemnly. "My research revealed that one of the last known protectors of the Container of Kai Shi was the Xan Monks."

CHAPTER 14

The Xan Monks lived in a monastery high on a plateau far up the steep slopes of Mount Xan, the mountain from which they took their Name. There was no trade road leading to the mountain, only a thin, dusty trail that wound up the slopes, at times so thin as to prevent two horses from riding abreast. This was intentional; it was the Monks' desire to distance themselves from civilization, for their lives were dedicated to mediation, contemplation, and domination of both their minds and bodies, and civilization was full of temptation and distraction.

It was this quest to dominate themselves physically and mentally that the Monks of Mount Xan were most renowned for. The Monks were powerful fighters, their unarmed martial skills second to none. But it was not their intention to be fierce fighters; just the opposite, in fact, for they abhorred violence. Their fighting was merely a byproduct of their intense discipline, and it was during the war with the Therans when those fighting skills saved the Empire, forever endearing the reclusive spiritual warriors to the hearts and minds of all Cathayans.

When the West first made contact with Cathay, nearly one hundred years before the Scourge began, the Therans attempted to conquer what they considered an inferior civilization. The Cathayans were not prepared for the might of the Westerners, and soon the imperial capital was besieged by two Theran legions. But before the Therans had reached the city, the Emperor of Cathay dispatched a messenger to Mount Xan. Upon receiving the Imperial request, the Monks set out immediately. By foot they marched for weeks, arriving at the capital on the seventh day of the siege. The Therans, overconfident with their superior numbers, turned to face them, eager for what they perceived as an easy victory. The Monks proceeded in routing their forces, scattering them to the four winds. After the battle, the mysterious order retreated back to the quiet slopes of Mount Xan, where they remained to this day.

Daylen had spoken with a Monk before. He had chanced upon one while visiting the Imperial Capital of Huan Wang. The Mighty Sparrow had docked at the city for the night; Ning-Xa never missed the Festival of Xan, which was the annual celebration of the Monks' triumph over the Theran legions, during which several Monks would travel to the Imperial Capital to put on a dazzling display of their martial prowess. Each year after the festivities, the Monks would attempt to recruit new followers, and it was then when Daylen had a chance to speak with one of them about their peculiar Discipline. He had learned that their order had been created by the great Cathayan dragon Luung, who taught them their meditations and exercises, which they followed rigorously on their path to enlightenment. Daylen found it intriguing; the dragons of Barsaive were to be feared, yet the dragons of Cathay seemed to be revered as quasi-Passions.

Mount Xan sat several days to the south of the Tower of Secrets, in the Dragon Spine Mountains. While they were staying at the Tower of Secrets, Jin'Lo discovered that his airship had suffered greater damage during the battle at the Wandering Mountains than he had previously thought. He had sent his men to the nearest city, two weeks away on foot, for supplies, and did not expect them back for some time. But as such, Su Shen, Bei, Daylen, and Bik-Bik had to make the journey to Mount Xan on foot (though Bik-Bik caught a ride on the merchant's shoulders).

Daylen did not mind; in fact, he was looking forward to seeing the temple of the Xan Monks for himself. Bik-Bik complained the entire way, mostly about their rations, but other than that, the journey was uneventful, for which Daylen was most grateful.

On the fifth day, they began traveling the path that led up the mountain. A cold wind had arrived, plucking at their clothing and hair. Most of the way, the mountain climbed up like a wall on their right while the earth fell further and further away on their left. The path was only ten feet wide in most places, but it did not disturb Daylen, which surprised him.

Toward nightfall they followed a curve in the path and found their way barred by a lone figure. Wrapped tightly in dark orange robes, the elf held but a slender staff that was as long as he was tall. His head was shaved, and the gusts of wind tugged at his robe.

"Why have you come?" the Monk asked simply.

Su Shen stepped forward. "We have come to request an audience with the Xan Monks." Her voice was strong and commanding.

"Are you seeking Lung Do?" the Monk asked, his voice calm and serene. Lung Do, or The Way of the Dragon, was the Name of the Monks' philosophy, Daylen knew.

"No," answered Su Shen. "We are seeking—,"

The Monk cut her off, "Then turn and leave. This path will not lead you where you wish to go."

The Daughter of Heaven smiled politely. "Please," she said, "we only need to speak with your Master. We promise not to take long—"

Again the Monk cut her off, his voice carrying a certain sternness that made Daylen instantly nervous, "No! You are not seeking Lung Do. We do not entertain visitors. Our monastery is for those who have come seeking spiritual enlightenment. Please leave."

"Not very hospitable, are they?" Bik-Bik whispered into his ear.

Daylen ignored him; he was focused on the obsidiman. He could sense Bei's growing irritation. The Warrior took a sudden step forward.

"We demand to be let by!" he yelled, probably more threateningly than he had intended.

In a flash, the Monk fell into a deep stance and his staff twirled up, the end pointing at the obsidiman's face. Daylen could see Bei's neck muscles stiffen, and for a moment he thought the Warrior was going to accept the challenge. But instead, he let out a breath and relaxed, holding up his one empty palm in a gesture of peace.

"Listen, friend," he said, forcing a smile, "all I meant was that it's rude to send visitors away who have traveled so far for an audience."

"I am sorry," said the Monk, "but we do not accept visitors."

Su Shen laid a calming hand on Bei's shoulder, and then to the Monk said, "Please, it is very important. We have questions concerning the Container of Kai Shi."

It was like an alarm had been sounded. The Monk seemed to tense, his eyes widening.

"What do you know of the Container of Kai Shi?" he demanded.

"We know where it is," was Su Shen's response, somewhat hesitantly. "We need to learn its True Name."

Suddenly the Monk shouted, and several figures fell from the cliff face above them, where they had been clinging to the stone, unobserved. They were more Monks; using their adept magic, they seemed almost to float down to the path. The Monks were unarmed, but Daylen knew that they did not need weapons to be deadly. Su Shen and Bei were visibly alarmed, but they made no hostile move.

"You will come with us," said the elf, and Daylen knew they had no choice. He looked to Su Shen and Bei and was relieved when he saw that they were not going to put up a struggle.

They were led to the Xan monastery. Along the way, Su Shen and Bei did not object or complain, and if they were worried, did not show it. The monastery was composed of several buildings made from wood and stone, spread out over a wide area against the backdrop of the serene plateau. There were many gardens with willow trees, stone courtyards, and paths leading from the compound up and down the mountain to various training sites.

The Monks surrounded them in a tight circle. They passed others in the compound: humans, elves, obsidimen, t'skrang, trolls, and others; none of them paid more than a curious glance their way as they continued about their business. The elf led them to the largest building, the tiles covering its angled roof painted a deep red. Flanking the short flight of steps leading to the front doors were two shi, orfu lions, stone guardians meant to ward off evil spirits and ill fortune. Daylen had seen such things throughout Cathay, mostly in front of the homes of nobles and important merchants.

They were led inside to a long, rectangular chamber, at the far end of which sat a great golden statue of a Cathayan dragon. Several braziers marched one after another down the walls, filling the room with a thick smoke that coalesced in a murky haze toward the lofty ceiling. A purple rug ran down the center of the cold stone floor, beginning at the entryway and ending at the feet of the golden dragon.

The elf led, and they followed as he marched down the rug. He stopped before the statue and bowed. The other Monks took places at even intervals down the length of the walls, as if they were soldiers standing at rapt attention.

"These visitors know where the Container of Kai Shi is located, Master," said the elf. At first Daylen thought the Monk was addressing the statue, but then from behind it appeared a short, old human, carrying a single stick of burning incense between his palms, which were held together as if in prayer. The old man nodded to the elf, who bowed while walking away backwards. After taking five steps, he stood upright and turned, leaving swiftly. The other Monks quietly followed.

When they were gone and the doors were shut behind them, the old man eyed his guests curiously. He had a gentle look about him, Daylen decided. He wore no facial hair, and the top of his head had only wisps of white hair, as if he had just walked through a strand of cobwebs. His lips were pressed tightly together, and the corners of his mouth were curved slightly upward as if in a sleepy grin.

"Have you come to return the Container of Kai Shi?" the old man asked them.

Su Shen was hesitant at first, and then she said, "No. We have come to ask if you know its True Name."

The old man considered her for a moment before replying. "Why would you want to know its True Name?"

"We need to know its True Name in order to reveal its secrets." She replied, the hesitation gone from her voice.

"Why do you want to know its secrets?" The old man asked.

Su Shen sighed, and Daylen recognized the flicker in her eyes as impatience.

"Because," she said slowly, "we are attempting to learn why the Container of Kai Shi is so important to our enemies."

"Why do you wish to know such a thing?"

Su Shen looked exasperated. "Why?" she repeated him. "Because then we may know what our enemies' plans are."

"But without the Container of Kai Shi, your enemies' plans are worthless," said the old man.

Su Shen hesitated. "Well, yes.I suppose that is true."

"So why then do you wish to know what their plans are?"

"Well I.I guess." Su Shen did not have an answer.

"We are curious," offered Daylen.

The old man looked at him, smiling. "Ah!" He held up a bony finger. "You are curious." He chuckled, and said, "So am I. But we do not know the True Name of the Container of Kai Shi."

Su Shen's shoulders slumped.

"Well why didn't you just say so instead of wasting our time with pointless questions?" asked Bik-Bik irritably.

The old man shrugged his bony shoulders. "I was curious."

"So you cannot help us?" asked Su Shen.

"No," said the old man, almost sympathetically. "But I know who can."

"Who?"

"First, why don't you explain to me why you do not plan on returning the container to us, its rightful guardians?"

"We cannot risk it.," said Su Shen, somewhat defensively, Daylen thought.

The old man heard it too and said, "We will let your judge decide."

"Judge?" asked Su Shen.

The old man's smile faded. "In order to find the answer you seek, you must face Ka-Li, the Black Dragon."

XXX

"This is it?" asked Bik-Bik, and then he sighed. "Well, I guess it looks like the home of a dragon."

They had traveled several miles from the monastery, following the directions the old man had given them, the stars and the moon lighting their way, and now they stood before the mouth of a cave, tall and wide, the shadows within stretching away beyond the reach of the moon's pale glow.

The four of them had stopped some distance from the opening, gazing into the darkness with trepidation. The old man had instructed them to simply enter when they arrived, and they would then confront the Ka-Li Dragon, but now that they were here, they were having doubts; even Daylen knew better than to enter a dragon's lair without being invited, an old Monk's reassurances or not.

"So what's the plan?" asked Bik-Bik.

"We're going in," answered Su Shen with resolve.

"What? Just like that?" the Cathayan ferret was incredulous. "You know, you'd think that between the three of you you'd be able to come up with at least one sensible idea once in a while."

Su Shen ignored him and began walking forward. Bei followed, and then Daylen. Once the merchant stepped within the cave, a gust of warm wind washed across him, coming from somewhere further in the darkness, whistling as it passed. It was dark; too dark to see. He wondered why Su Shen did not light a torch; he assumed it was some Cathayan etiquette, of which he was not aware. He put his trust in the Daughter of Heaven once again. After all, it seemed likely that they would know more about the customs of Cathayan dragons than he.

His head felt foggy. For a few moments, he could see the gray outline of Bei's large figure, but it was soon swallowed by darkness. Even the sound of their footsteps seemed swallowed, growing fainter and fainter with each passing step.

"You still there?" he called out to them.

No answer. He shook his head. Why did he feel so drowsy? He had to hurry. He quickened his pace. The footsteps were no longer guiding his way. He yawned deeply. Where did they go?

He turned a corner and swept up a staircase, a young dwarf serving girl hugging the wall to let him pass. What was her Name? Shara? Shana? He could not keep his servants' Names straight; he had too many. He kept on twenty more than his cousin Valen: a fact that kept a smile on his face. But it was not like he did not need them. He had a very large mansion to run, after all. He had it built on the outskirts of Bartertown, perched just at the end of Candle Lane, a little over a mile from the Royal Road. With over sixty rooms, seven chimney stacks, and a courtyard boasting several fountains and a large pond, his mansion was strangely out of place in the ramshackle city, but it served to remind all that he was the wealthiest merchant there.

He was in a hurry. He had a meeting with Ch'elmar, a t'skrang from House K'tenshin, the House of Nine Diamonds. The K'tenshin were eager to do business with Daylen, for they were allies with the Therans, and their Theran contacts in Barsaive would pay a lot of silver for fine Cathayan slaves.

Daylen did not advertise that he was in the slave trade; it would not go over well with the inhabitants of Bartertown, and certainly not with the dwarfs of Throal. But it was his illicit trade with Cathayan slavers that led to his outstanding wealth that he now so enjoyed. He dabbled in other things, of course; he invested in a new dye factory with Mercalia the silk merchant, invested in airships in the city-states of Travar and Jerris, and began moneylending operations out of Urupa for merchants wishing to trade across the Aras Sea. But the profits of all of those operations barely equaled what he was bringing in with slaves, and now House K'tenshin promised to make that profit even greater. He had thought about moving from Barsaive to a Theran province, or maybe even Great Thera herself, where his trade in Name-giver flesh would not cause so much as the bat of an eyelash, but he was a Barsaivian at heart. This was his home; why should he have to leave just to placate the bleeding hearts? This was the real world; Cathayans died by the thousands each week in that senseless war. He was doing them a favor. At least now their lives would have a purpose other than to be fodder for some pointless, bloody skirmish. At least now their bellies would be full. And if they occasionally tasted the sting of a Theran whip, then that was their fault for being stubborn or insubordinate. He could not help that. A little bit of discipline did everyone some good.

He entered his large study and sat at his desk. His servant would enter soon, announcing the arrival of Ch'elmar. He set a book on his desk, turned away from himself so that his guest would be able to read the cover clearly. The gold-leafed title read, The Ashes of Dusk and Other Works by Iagen the Poet. Daylen hardly understood poetry at all, but he liked to pretend he was an aficionado. He believed it made him seem quite sophisticated. But more than that, the works of Iagen, the pre-Scourge Theran poet of Parlainth, were rare and very expensive, indicating that Daylen was very refined indeed.

It was a short time later when Ch'elmar finally arrived. He entered with a particular flair, as the t'skrang were inclined to do, and sat across from Daylen before being asked to do so. The t'skrang's ruby and gold earring winked from his left ear; Daylen knew that the earring was a symbol, called a g'doinya by the t'skrang, of Ch'elmar's allegiance with House K'tenshin. His scales were dark green and wrapped about his chest and torso was a black tunic emblazoned with the symbol of his house—nine red diamonds set against a gold field. A broadsword hung in a scabbard from his right hip. House K'tenshin's beginnings were founded on piracy, and the K'tenshin were known for being fierce combatants. Their War College, found in the City of Nine Diamonds, was renown across the land for producing brilliant fighters.

"I traveled a long way Mr. Jagaro, and my throat is parched," he said without as much as a hello first.

Daylen nodded and smiled politely, calling for a servant to bring them wine. A young Cathayan woman entered carrying their drinks on a silver tray. She sat them down on the desk and turned to leave, but Ch'elmar caught her wrist. She gazed at him with her fierce green eyes but said nothing.

What was her Name? Su Sha? Su Shei? He could not remember. But he did remember that he often had disciplinary problems with her; she was frequently insubordinate and less than friendly. How could she be so ungrateful? He had saved her from a war-torn country, after all, and given her a respectable job serving one of Barsaive's wealthiest merchants.

Ch'elmar gazed at her lecherously, his tongue flicking out and licking his snout, and his tail thumped the wooden floor. The thought of a t'skrang mating with a human made Daylen nauseated, but he said nothing, allowing his guest to continue his obscene display.

"What have we here?" he asked without taking his eyes off of the serving girl.

"She is my Cathayan servant whom I brought back from my last visit," answered Daylen, taking a drink from his wine.

"Ah.," the t'skrang purred, his eyes crawling up and down her slender form. "You can provide us with more like her?"

"Absolutely!" was Daylen's easy response. "Many like her, if you wish."

Ch'elmar seemed delighted with the answer and released her wrist. "You may go," he said and turned back to Daylen. The servant girl's eyes burned a hole in the back of the t'skrang's head for a moment before she finally turned and left, defiance in her every step. "She has spirit," said the t'skrang, not admiringly. "Are they all so willful?"

Daylen shrugged. "Some. Not most though. Your Theran buyers should have no trouble with them."

Ch'elmar seemed content with that answer. He leaned in and snatched his wine glass from the desk, swirling its contents below his snout and breathing deep before finally taking a drink.

"Tart," he observed, setting the glass back down while smacking the roof of his mouth with his tongue. "There are a couple other matters," he went on.

"Oh?" asked Daylen, trying not to sound at all concerned.

"The Shivalahala K'tenshin wishes for you to deliver a message and a gift to your Cathayan contact," he said.

Daylen did not allow his alarm to show. Was the shivalahala attempting to steal his contact and cut out the middle man? He could not allow that. "What's that?" he asked, carefully concealing any hint of concern.

The t'skrang produced a scroll sealed with wax that was stamped with the symbol of House K'tenshin and a small statue from within his tunic. The statue was fashioned from black obsidian into the likeness of a Cathayan dragon. Ch'elmar set them both on the desk in front of him.

Daylen's eyes were drawn to the statue. The dragon was carved as if it were swimming through the air. Its face was pulled back into a snarl, and the way the obsidian seemed to pull the light from the room was almost sinister.

Ka-Li, a voice seemed to whisper. He looked around, alarmed. What was that Name? It floated in the back of his mind, tugging like a nagging child.

"What is it?" asked Ch'elmar, noting Daylen's bizarre reaction to the statue.

"I...," he began, but was not sure exactly what just happened. Instead, he merely said, "I thought I heard something. But it was nothing. Now, what are these for, exactly?"

"They are for your contact. A gift and a message from my shiv-alahala," the t'skrang replied.

"Yes," said Daylen, "you already said that. But what are they for?"

The t'skrang smiled knowingly. "Do not worry; she has no intention of stealing your contact."

Daylen feigned surprise. "Oh no, I wasn't worried about that at all; just merely curious." The two exchanged courteous smiles.

"You said there was something else, too?" asked Daylen after a moment.

The t'skrang nodded. "Yes. I am going to need a sample of your product."

"My product? I...don't understand?"

"It's quite simple," said the t'skrang. "I need your serving girl."

Daylen laughed. "I'm afraid she's not for sale."

"Everything is for sale," was the t'skrang's answer, and Daylen could see that he was quite serious.

"Why her?"

"My master is going to want to see what the slaves will look like."

"But," Daylen protested, "she is not a slave. And she's stubborn, to boot. I don't want to give the shivalahala the wrong impression about Cathayans." The serving girl's green eyes were in Daylen's mind as he spoke.

"She will do," was Ch'elmar's simple response.

Daylen could tell the t'skrang was not going to budge about his demand.

Ka-Li.

Daylen looked at the statue. Did it just whisper at him.?

Ka-Li.

"What is your answer?" Ch'elmar seemed suddenly impatient, his tail flicking back and forth.

Daylen looked back at him. Who was this man to make demands? Did he not know who he was? He thought of her green eyes again.

Ka-Li.

How did the shivalahala even know he would have any Cathayans working for him to demand such a thing in the first place? More likely, Ch'elmar wanted the girl for himself. Who knew what he would do with her?

Ka-Li!

"What is your answer!" the t'skrang demanded, growing angry.

"This is wrong," thought Daylen, suddenly feeling disgusted with himself. His head felt foggy. How did he ever get caught up in such a business?

The way Ch'elmar had stared at the serving girl with that obvious hunger in his eyes kept playing over and over in his mind. How many people had he condemned to slavery already? Why did he allow this to happen? He could never...the girl with green eyes. Where did she come from? He knew those eyes.

"I am growing angry with your hesitation, Jagaro!" the t'skrang threw himself to his feet threateningly.

He did not want to sell his serving girl. He felt a fondness for her.a familiarity. Why would he ally himself with House K'tenshin and the Therans anyway? Why would he betray his own countrymen? He stared around at his lush surroundings, his pride replaced with guilt and shame. What had he done? He shook his head.

"I don't want anything to do with you or your shivalahala!" Daylen suddenly spat, furious. "Tell her the deal is off!"

He stood abruptly, plucking the small black statue of the Cathayan dragon off of his desk. It felt nauseating in his grip, as if it was something vile, like some dark disease of the mind. He hurled it against the wall as hard as he could.

KA-LI!!!

It exploded into a shower of glittering black rain. The t'skrang roared...and Daylen opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of an immense cavern, the walls and ceiling stretching so far from him that it made him feel small and insignificant. A strange pale moss grew over the forest of stalactites and stalagmites, casting off a soft, green glow. It seemed to cover everything, like an immense blanket of soft, green fur.

Su Shen, Bei, and Bik-Bik lay on the floor nearby, unconscious. They slowly began to stir, gradually regaining awareness. Su Shen was first. She sat up with alarm.

"Where are we?" she asked, leaping to her feet, her hand going to the hilt of her sword.

"You won't need that," a voice echoed.

They were all standing now. Turning, they saw the old man from the monastery approaching them, his hands folded into the sleeves of his robe.

"What happened?" Su Shen asked angrily. "Why are you here?"

"Calm yourself, Daughter of Heaven," he said, stopping just before them. "Your trials are over. You have all defeated the Ka-Li dragon; even the little one, to my surprise."

Bik-Bik bristled.

"The Ka-Li dragon?" asked Daylen, his mind lingering on the image of the obsidian statue. "I don't understand."

"Ka-Li," said the old man, "is an evil spirit that lives within the hearts of all Name-givers. It is rage, avarice, fear, lust, and everything that leads men to ruin."

A sickening thought suddenly crept over Daylen. "What if we failed?" he asked.

"If you had failed," said the old man, "then you would have remained here until the moss overtook you."

He waved an arm, gesturing to the sea of soft glowing green moss. Daylen's eyes swept across the cavern floor, and for the first time he saw that the moss did not just cover stone: he could see the gleaming white of Name-givers' bones.

"This was some sort of test of character?" asked Su Shen, with just a hint of anger in her voice. The old man nodded.

"And will you give us the Name of the container?" asked Bei.

The old man shook his head. "I cannot. I took a blood oath centuries and centuries ago to never reveal its True Name."

"Centuries?" asked Daylen, dubious. "Just who are you?"

The old man smiled, and suddenly his form began to waver, like a mirage. It grew and expanded. Su Shen, Bei, and Daylen stepped back in alarm. Bik-Bik scrambled up Daylen's leg and up onto his shoulder.

Then suddenly before them was a great Cathayan dragon that stood so tall that its neck had to bend down so as not to hit the ceiling. Its scales were a fiery red with gold highlights. Long whiskers fell from its snout, and a pair of delicate horns ran back along its massive skull.

"I am Luung," it said, its voice so deep and so powerful that it felt like a weight pressed on Daylen's chest with each syllable.

Su Shen and Bei instantly dropped to one knee, and Daylen quickly did the same. Even though for a long moment the dragon did not speak, Daylen could feel its presence, and the cold stone floor of the cavern reverberated slightly with each of the beast's breaths.

"Rise, my children," it finally said, and they did so.

"The Container of Kai Shi was stolen from my disciples long ago by Ping the Thief," said Luung while looking at Bik-Bik, "and you."

"Me?!" cried Bik-Bik. "Are you sure you haven't mistaken me for another Cathayan ferret? We're hard to tell apart, you know."

The dragon ignored his feeble plea. "Perhaps you could tell me why I should not eat you right now?" Luung demanded of him.

"Because I'm...hard to chew?" answered Bik-Bik hopefully.

Luung snorted, which Daylen took as a guffaw. "You are lucky, little one, that there are some destinies that even we dragons do not meddle with."

"What does that mean?" asked Su Shen.

"It means," spoke the dragon, "that I will tell you who has the Name of the container, but nothing more."

"Why can you tell us nothing more?" asked Bei.

Luung considered him for a moment. "Swordbearer, you will have your answers shortly."

Bei looked at his great two-bladed sword and then back to the dragon.

"Why do you call me Swordbearer? What do you know of my sword? Can you tell me its destiny?"

"I could," answered Luung, "but I will not."

The obsidiman opened his mouth, as though he were about to protest, but then snapped his jaw shut again, bowing.

"As you say," he conceded.

"But where shall we go, great dragon?" asked Su Shen. "Who knows the Name of the container?"

Luung shimmered and shrank, reappearing as an old man.

"Come," he said, "let us return to the monastery and speak. These surroundings are drab."

CHAPTER 15

The town of Dan Sun lay only five days from Mount Xan and was located at a crossroads near the waters of a swift, crystal blue river. A twenty foot stone wall ran around the perimeter of the town, high above which flapped the banner of Feng Dei. A forest sprang up nearby, and the surrounding countryside was blanketed with fields where peasants toiled.

Just beyond the river, to the south, lay the kingdom of Tiet Dei, the blue waters a natural boundary. Ferries, ran by local t'skrang villagers, carried people and trade goods back and forth across the fast-moving waters. Garrisons of troops, soldiers of Feng Dei on the north bank and soldiers of Tiet Dei on the south bank, continuously patrolled the river, eyeing one another warily.

Daylen thought it was a peculiar custom. Though the five kingdoms were at war with one another, the scarcity of resources forced them to trade with each other, and so merchants were continuously crossing the borders with impunity. He could only imagine what a nightmare this was for any attempts at preventing spies from gaining the knowledge of troop movements and enemy positions. Indeed, the War of Wu Xing was the most bizarre conflict he had ever heard of.

As it was early in the afternoon, the tall wooden gates of the town were open when they arrived. Peasants from the surrounding countryside and merchants from abroad filtered in and out under the watchful eyes of a dozen soldiers equipped with tall pole arms. They were all humans, with their dark hair pulled up into top knots. The soldiers watched them as they passed, throwing respectful nods at Su Shen and Bei while casting suspicious glares at the pale Westerner. Daylen was used to the mistrust and so smiled politely.

Crowds of people filled the wide avenue that was just beyond the mouth of the gate; vendors on the sides of the road loudly hawked their wares; slow moving carts tumbled down the path, the drivers cursing at those who stood in their way; a young male dwarf, a butcher, chased after a chicken that had managed to escape its rickety wooden cage; and tumblers, acrobats, and Troubadours entertained small gathered crowds who tossed the occasional copper piece their way.

Daylen clutched instinctively at his belt pouch, suddenly remembering a bad experience he had with a pick pocket in the town of Ardanyan back in Barsaive. Large crowds were the hunting grounds of urban thieves, just like the deep waters of the ocean were for sharks. He expected this was true in Cathay as well.

He followed Su Shen and Bei as they wove their way through the crowd. Bik-Bik had, hours before, transformed back into his jade form and was tucked safely within his pouch. Daylen was a little grateful; the endless bickering wore thin after one grew accustomed to the novelty of a talking ferret.

They finally arrived at the Jade Shadow, a double-story inn near the far end of town. The inn was quiet when they entered. Located near the eastern wall of the town, it was out of the way from the regular flow of traffic. The location was not very good for business, but good business was not the intention of the proprietor.

It had been Luung who told them to seek out the owner of the Jade Shadow and ask for the Pearl of Dan Sun. "The Jade Shadow is a place of thieves and cutthroats," Luung warned them, "but they will know of what you seek. Tell them I sent you."

There were only a handful of people sitting at the scattered tables, and an old dwarf woman stood behind the bar, obviously on an elevated floor, Daylen figured. They crossed to the bar, and Daylen was uncomfortably aware of the stares they drew.

The dwarf woman picked her gaze up as they approached, settling into an awaiting posture, her pudgy little hands resting on the bar.

"We are seeking the Pearl of Dan Sun," said Su Shen without any preamble.

For a moment, there was only silence from the dwarf, who appraised the Daughter of Heaven.

Then she said, "We don't serve anything by that Name."

Su Shen stiffened. "You know of what we speak." Daylen winced. Normally Su Shen was impatient, but now it seemed that she had lost even any semblances of patience, clearly fed up with chasing after phantoms.

"Do I?" asked the dwarf, her voice as gruff as any male dwarf s that Daylen had ever heard.

"Luung sent us," Daylen offered, remembering the dragon's words.

The dwarf smirked. "Did he?"

"Um...well, yes," said Daylen, losing confidence.

That was when he noticed that the other patrons were standing and slowly moving into a circle around them. Three of them walked casually to the door, locking the simple wooden latch and standing before it with their arms folded tightly across their broad chests.

Bei was the first to react. He twirled his great double-bladed sword menacingly, meeting the patrons' stares, challenging them to make a move.

"Do you mean to attack a Daughter of Heaven and a jade obsi-diman?" asked Su Shen coolly.

The dwarf shrugged. "That depends," she answered.

"On?"

"On whether you will leave peacefully or not."

Some of the patrons had produced small crossbows from under the folds of their robes, loaded and ready to fire. Others brandished daggers and short sabers. Su Shen tilted her head, a habit she had whenever she considered a matter. "Very well," she said finally and turned to leave. Bei hesitated, disappointment clearly registering on his stony face. Su Shen fixed her gaze on him, throwing her head towards the door. "Let's go," she said calmly.

The three men guarding the door stepped aside, eyeing them menacingly. Bei met their gazes, clearly pained by the struggle of restraining himself. Once outside, the door slammed shut behind them, and they could hear the tavern erupt into laughter. "Why did we not stay? They had the Pearl of Dan Sun, I could just tell!" Bei complained as they marched down the dusty street.

"Do you think we could just walk out of the city after starting a fight, a very bloody fight by the looks of where it was heading, in a tavern? We may have been able to defeat all of them, but the local magistrate would most likely not have taken kindly to the violence in his city," Su Shen explained. Bei grumbled but said nothing. He understood her wisdom, but he still did not like it. They traveled back to the center of the town and purchased a room at a different inn. They were not planning on leaving; she had not given up.

"So what are we going to do then?" asked Bei, sitting heavily onto the floor of their room.

"Maybe we should go back and tell Luung?" suggested Daylen.

Su Shen shook her head. "No. One does not presume to ask a dragon for help. He told us what to do, and it is up to us to handle our own problems."

Daylen nodded, in a way relieved. As fascinating as the encounter with Luung had been, he did not relish the idea of facing a dragon again anytime soon.

"We wait until nightfall," Su Shen went on, "and break in."

"Break in?" said Daylen dubiously. "Into a den of Thieves and cutthroats?"

"Don't worry," Bei laughed, his large mouth breaking into a wide smile. "I will protect you."

Daylen frowned. Sure. But who would protect Su Shen and Bei?

The hours marched by quickly, or at least it seemed so for Daylen. Both Su Shen and Bei were composed, waiting quietly and meditating. Daylen tried to meditate, as Su Shen had taught him, but he could not concentrate. The anxiety gnawed at him. He was never one for waiting, impatient by nature. This was even worse. The longer they waited, the more he felt certain that something bad was going to happen.

His pessimism was interrupted by a dull boom from somewhere outside. The three of them rushed to the window. Dusk had cast its sharp red glow over the horizon, and beyond the stone walls of the town, men were dying at the river.

The two contingents of soldiers were lobbing fiery projectiles from catapults at one another, and archers were unleashing hails of flaming arrows across the river; the fiery reflections raced across the surface of the water. Men dropped dead with arrows sticking in them. The catapults' deadly missiles crashed and exploded, sending debris and soldiers flying.

"Someone must have gotten nervous," mumbled Bei. "The soldiers are probably green."

Daylen found that part of his mind wandered to the economic implications this skirmish would have; how it might disrupt trade across the river and what that might mean for the merchants who relied on the ability to cross back and forth at will. But he was surprised to find that those thoughts were overshadowed by thoughts of the soldiers. He wondered how many of them had woken up that morning expecting to be dead by nightfall. He wondered if they had family and how long it would take for those families to receive the message that their loved one had just died in a pointless skirmish.

"What's going on?" asked Bik-Bik, suddenly appearing behind him.

"A skirmish," muttered Daylen, not taking his eyes off of the carnage.

"We should go now," said Su Shen, watching the soldiers from the town rushing to the riverbank, crossbows in hand.

"Where are we going?" asked Bik-Bik.

"To break into a thieves' den," said Daylen, unenthusiastically.

"Why would we want to do that?" Bik-Bik inquired.

"Because Su Shen thinks it's a good idea," the merchant answered cynically.

"Oh?" the Cathayan ferret scoffed. "Has the definition of a good idea changed drastically over the last eight hundred years?"

"They have the Pearl of Dan Sun," said Su Shen impatiently. Then Bik-Bik did not argue; he understood their mission.

"I wonder why this Pearl is so important, anyway," said Daylen to no one in particular.

"The Scholars will know," said Su Shen with confidence.

Dusk finally gave way to night as they strolled through the city. People stood in their doorways, staring off toward the distant sounds of battle and the flashes of light over the walls, worry clearly etched onto their faces.

No one paid the Daughter of Heaven, jade obsidiman, Western merchant, or Cathayan ferret so much as a second glance as they passed, slinking like phantoms through the shadows toward the inn. Normally their unusual presence drew all of the stares. The battle must be a blessing from the Passions, Daylen decided. They stopped in an alley across the road from the two-story building, ducking in the shadows. Pale yellow light poured through the inn's windows out on to the street. The second-story windows were dark.

"We're going to have to climb," said Su Shen. Bei nodded. Daylen shook his head.

"I can't climb that!" he protested. "There is nothing but rooms up there, anyway. She probably has the Pearl in a locked chest behind the bar, or maybe in the basement." That is where he would keep it, anyway.

They considered him for a moment, and then finally Su Shen said, "Okay. You and Bik-Bik remain here."

"Finally, a sensible idea," said the ferret.

"I'm going to have to leave my sword with you," said the obsidiman, handing it over to Daylen. Allowing one of the sword's points to fall into the dirt, Daylen was just able to prevent the hefty weapon from falling over. "I won't let anything happen to it," the merchant promised. Bei looked at him carefully and finally nodded, though it was clear he still had his doubts.

Su Shen and the obsidiman darted quickly across the road, vanishing behind a corner of the building.

After a long moment, Bik-Bik sighed irritably and said, "I hate quests."

Daylen nodded silently in agreement. He was beginning to hate them, too. Adventuring was overrated, he decided. A nice, peaceful life was all he had ever wanted. An image of the mansion from his dream—was it a dream?—flashed in his mind. He banished it from his thoughts. No. That would never be him. He thought again of the contract in his robe and felt suddenly ashamed.

He did not hear them until one of them spoke.

"We thought we made it clear that you weren't welcome here," a voice said behind him.

Daylen drew in a quick breath and spun around but was seized by rough hands. Bei's sword fell with a heavy clang. With a tight grip under his arms, two large men dragged him out of the alley toward the inn. Daylen could smell their sweat. He heard Bik-Bik cry out in protest when a third man grabbed him from his shoulders.

"What have we here?" a gruff voice said.

And then, "Ow! He bit me!"

"Stuff him in a sack," said another.

And then a fourth voice spoke, "This damn sword is heavy!"

"Quit complaining and get it inside!"

The door to the inn swung open, and Daylen was dragged roughly inside. He found himself surrounded by grim faces. His captors gripped him tightly, preventing him from moving anywhere. The dwarf appeared, and she looked up at him with a satisfied grin.

"You Westerners are as stubborn as they say," she said. "That's unfortunate for you."

Daylen's mind raced. "I didn't come alone!" he said feebly, realizing how pathetic it sounded before the words were even finished falling from his mouth.

"You're referring to your friends upstairs, the Daughter of Heaven and the jade obsidiman?" Daylen must have worn his shock on his face, gauging by the way the dwarf's smile widened. "Yes," she continued, "we know about them as well. It seems that hanging out with a Westerner has developed some bad habits in them."

She looked at one of her men, a heavyset human who held Bei's sword.

"Tsk, tsk, and the obsidiman was caught without his weapon," she said. "Put that behind the bar for now. We'll probably get good coin for selling that. Or at least it will make a good trophy. We'll have Daio inspect it later to see if it's magical."

Daylen watched as the human struggled with the sword, placing it behind the bar with an unceremonious thump, holding his back and sighing as he straightened. Daylen wondered what else the little dwarf might be hiding back there.

"Maybe the Pearl," he thought, though it did not look like that knowledge was going to do him any good anytime soon.

"Don't worry about your friends," the dwarf reassured him. "They have walked into a trap. The rooms upstairs are rigged. Do you think you're the first to attempt a break in? By now they've sprung a trap and are breathing in powder made from the crushed petals of a Night Lotus and are fast asleep." The smooth confidence in her voice crushed any optimism to which Daylen had been clinging.

"Now, I understand why a Daughter of Heaven and jade obsidiman are here," she said, her pudgy face wrinkling in confusion, "but why a Westerner? What could you possibly gain by my capture?"

Daylen did not understand what she meant, so instead he said, "We were sent by the great dragon Luung."

"Yes, yes, so you keep saying. You can cling to that pretense if you feel you must, but know that it will do you little good."

"It's true!" Daylen almost yelled and fought to keep his voice calm. "He told us to seek out this inn, in this town, and ask the proprietor for the Pearl of Dan Sun. We need to bring it back to the Tower of Secrets."

The dwarf hesitated, looking at him curiously.

"It?" she repeated.

Daylen nodded. "Yes!"

"For what?" she seemed interested now.

"We're trying to learn the Name of the Container of Kai Shi," he blurted out without hesitation.

The dwarf paused again, considering his words, and then nodded suddenly to her men, who released his arms. Daylen stood there surprised, rubbing the back of his arms gingerly, which were already beginning to bruise.

"I am the Pearl of Dan Sun," said the dwarf. Daylen just stared at her. She was the Pearl?

"Oh.," he finally managed to say.

"Let me out of here!" cried Bik-Bik from within the simple rice sack he had been thrown in.

"What was that?" demanded the dwarf, looking at the man who held it.

"It was their ferret," he replied, holding it up.

"Let it out," she told him. The man hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?" she insisted.

"Well.," said the man, looking sheepish, ".last time it bit me."

"For the love of the ancestors," the dwarf grumbled. "Give it to me." He handed it over. She took it from him, grumbling something about the deficiencies of human brains while reaching inside. When she withdrew her hand she held Bik-Bik, whose irritation was hard to miss.

"And what is your Name, little one?" she asked him.

"My Name is Bik-Bik," he said, indignant. "And you're not so big yourself."

Daylen winced, but the dwarf only laughed.

"Bik-Bik," she said, nodding. "Well met."

The dwarf turned to her men, the smile on her face no longer menacing, but friendly. "Go upstairs and wake up our guests," she said to them. "Tell them we mean them no harm."

"Yes mistress," one of them replied, and then he along with several others rushed to do her bidding.

"Have a seat," the dwarf motioned to a nearby chair.

Daylen did as he was told, and she relaxed in a seat across from him, setting Bik-Bik onto the table.

"So," she began, "what's your story?"

He nodded, relieved, telling her everything from the moment he met Su Shen and Bei to the moment they encountered Bik-Bik in the Jungle of Endless Wandering, at which point the Cathayan ferret took over the story with an enthusiastic zeal, embellishing certain details that made him sound like more of a hero. "If it wasn't for me," he was saying animatedly, "that crazy human with the snake whip would have killed Daylen for sure!"

The dwarf nodded silently along as the ferret spoke, listening intently. By the time Bik-Bik reached the end of the tale, they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. They twisted in their seats just as Su Shen and Bei appeared, followed closely by the men who were sent to wake them. Their eyes were those of someone who had just awoken from a deep sleep; they blinked repeatedly as if trying to clear their heads and regain their senses.

Bei's eyes settled on Daylen. "Where's my sword?" he demanded, seeming suddenly much more alert.

"Do not worry," assured their host, calmly. "It is behind the bar." She gestured to one of her men. "Get it for him." The man bowed and rushed to retrieve the sword. He struggled back with it, and Bei snatched it from him gruffly.

"We have come for the Pearl," said Su Shen.

The dwarf smiled. "You have found her," she said.

A look of shock passed over Su Shen's face, and she looked to Daylen for confirmation, who nodded.

"Please, have a seat," said the dwarf. They moved cautiously to the table, still uncertain.

They sat, and for a moment there was silence, until Su Shen said, "We need the Name of the Container of Kai Shi."

"I was told," the Pearl responded. "And I am prepared to give it to you, but you must wait an hour."

"Why?" asked the Daughter of Heaven, her impatience showing again.

"You will see."

The tables and chairs were shoved to the walls of the room, clearing the floor. Only a single lantern flickered in one of the corners, casting the tavern in a dark gloom. The Pearl's men stood around the perimeter, watching silently along with Su Shen, Bei, Daylen, and Bik-Bik.

The Pearl's men did not seem so menacing now somehow, Daylen noted. There were eight of them in all, two elves and the rest human. Daylen was amazed by how much they seemed to fear and respect the old dwarf woman, who stood in the center of the room, holding a small black pouch. Reaching within, she withdrew a pinch of fine, gold dust.

"Gold dust made from coins I stole from a fat merchant," she said in the tone of an incantation while sprinkling the gold dust onto the floor, creating a wide circle around herself. After the circle was complete, she set aside the black pouch and dropped to a knee. It took Daylen a moment to realize she was miming the actions of picking a lock on an invisible door. Daylen turned to Su Shen and Bei, opening his mouth to speak.

"She's a Thief adept," said Bei before Daylen could ask, his deep voice lowered to a whisper so as not to distract the dwarf. "And this is her Ghost Master Ritual."

They watched in silence as she mimicked a number of Thief talents: picking pockets, scaling walls, disarming traps, and others. The entire ritual took an hour to complete. As soon as she was finished, she reached deep into her pocket and produced an orichalcum coin. When he saw the golden coin gleaming in the lamplight, Daylen's hand absentmindedly reached to his robe, his fingers pressing against the form of his orichalcum box through the silk.

"With my pledge coin," said the dwarf in a loud, commanding voice, "I summon my Ghost Master. Ping."

"Ping?" Bik-Bik repeated, surprised. With the Name, a cool breeze blew through the room, causing the lamp to flutter madly. And then, slowly, a hazy form appeared within the circle; a shadowy apparition of another world. It was a man, a human, wearing long flowing robes, his face wrinkled with age but his eyes still sparkling with a youthful curiosity.

"Ghost Master," the dwarf bowed reverently. "I have summoned you here at the request of these people," she began, gesturing to them as she spoke. "One of whom I believe you know."

The ghost grinned widely when his eyes came upon Bik-Bik.

"Bik-Bik, my old friend!" cried the spirit, moving to the edge of the circle, but not beyond.

"Ping?!" the ferret gasped, uncertain. "What ..what happened?"

"Well," the spirit shrugged. "I died."

"No," said Bik-Bik, shaking his head at his old friend. "Yes, I am aware that you died, but you look so.so old."

Ping laughed. "Yes, well I did live for some time before dying, my friend."

Bik-Bik shook his furry head again, this time in disapproval. "Being dead does not suit you." He decided.

"You get used to it," was Ping's glib response.

Ping appraised the others for a moment before saying, "So you made it through my tomb?" Daylen could not tell if the ghost of Ping was impressed or disappointed.

"Yes, and thank you for making it so difficult for people to get through, by the way," said Bik-Bik sarcastically. "It's a wonder anyone ever found me."

The ghost of Ping held up his hands defensively. "I was just following the instructions of the Seer, old friend."

"I don't remember him telling you any such thing!" the ferret accused.

"Well, you weren't exactly in a state to be aware of such things," Ping told him. Bik-Bik huffed.

"Of course, your body was not in your tomb," Daylen interrupted, fascinated. Then he indicated his ghost form and said, "And apparently the legend of you stealing your soul to live as an immortal is not true."

"Ah!" Ping held up a finger, smiling mysteriously. "Do not think so simply!" Daylen frowned, not quite sure how to take that response.

"We need to know," began Su Shen, "the Name of—,"

"—the Container of Kai Shi, yes, I thought you might," Ping finished for her.

"And you know it?" she asked.

Ping nodded. "Yes. I stole that information along with the container from Luung's disciples. It was a foolish thing to do, stealing from a great dragon, I know, but I was young and overconfident and needed the—"

"You got away with it," said Bik-Bik.

Ping laughed, shaking his head. "Oh no; I thought I did too at first, but my arrogance made me underestimate the dragon—a mistake most never have a second chance to make! When he finally caught up with me, he spared my life, making me create a new tomb to hold the container, deep within the Wandering Mountains. It was his great magic that forged that vault, and it was he who made me find you again, Bik-Bik, and convince you to once again adventure with me in order to create the final piece for its completion: the door."

"So it's Luung's fault that I got stuck with you for all those years, nearly getting killed countless times and finally getting stuck with this curse?!"

"I'm afraid so," answered the spirit.

Bik-Bik shook his head ruefully. "I hate dragons," he said.

"So what is the Name?" asked Su Shen with her usual terse impatience.

"Ah, yes," said Ping, "Its Name. It is called Say."

A grim silence seemed to settle on the room. Daylen was not familiar with the word.

"Say?" he asked, confused.

"It is in a rare dialect," said Su Shen. "It means death."

XXX

Wang Yeh sat in a small, compact cabin. He stared out of the porthole at the passing night sky. They were on an airship; the second their patron had supplied to them. Their patron was most displeased at the loss of the first. They had discovered its remains scattered over a mile. The Sorceress had been furious.

Now she was in the next room, performing her dark magic. blood magic. Wang Yeh could hear the occasional whimper of her sacrificial victims through the wooden walls, punctuated every now and then by a horrific scream of pain and terror. He tried to put it out of his mind. He thought again of Bei. Bei the Swordbearer.

He gritted his teeth. He could still remember the day Bei was chosen over him. The Elders were fools. He was more worthy. He was stronger. Older. More experienced. A more powerful Warrior adept. By rights, the blade should have been his.

"Your ambitions cloud your judgment," the Elders had told him. In front of the entire Brotherhood they patronized him, as if he were a child. They denied him his birthright and humiliated him. He would not have it. He left, never looking back.

And then they found him. They validated his anger and his frustration. They understood what it was like to be held back by those who were weak and afraid. They nurtured him. They gave him a position of authority and respect.

The screaming stopped. A moment later, the door to his cabin opened, and the Sorceress stood in the frame. The front of her white gown was splattered with blood, and it ran down her chin where it escaped past her lips.

"Tell the captain to set a new course," she said with a coy smile that sent chills down Wang Yeh's spine.

CHAPTER 16

The repairs to Jin'Lo's Chariot were nearing completion when they arrived back at the valley. Pinned in place by its anchor, the ship swayed slightly in the cool, evening breeze that washed down the vale.

A wide ramp had been lowered down portside to a makeshift platform that was raised eight feet off the ground, allowing Jin'Lo's men to more easily disembark and haul supplies aboard. Sailors crawled about the top deck, and Daylen could see where the repairs had been made along the hull. At the far end of the valley, the tower stood like a great, white sentinel.

As they were nearing the village, Jin'Lo called to them from the top deck of the ship, and they made a slight detour to see what he wanted.

"Jin'Lo," Su Shen called up to him in greeting. "How go the repairs?"

"Just about complete," the dwarf called down to them. "Was your mission a success?"

"It was," she replied. "We are on our way to the tower with the information now."

Jin'Lo nodded. "And. when will we be reimbursed for our troubles?"

Bei laughed. "You can always count on the greed of Thieves," he muttered. Daylen wondered if the same thing was spoken about merchants.

"We will speak to them of the matter as soon as we arrive," Su Shen promised.

Jin'Lo's face split into a wide grin. "Very good!" he said and disappeared behind the rail without another word.

As they continued their journey to the tower, Daylen thought about his own promised payment, surprised to find how little he cared. While passing Ming Gu, villagers approached to pay their respect, and Su Shen and Bei stopped long enough to return the courtesy. Some even approached Daylen, bowing deeply. Daylen returned the bow, honored. When they finally arrived at the tower, We Chang was waiting to greet them.

"It is good to see you all well and alive," the Scholar said. "Did you discover what you set out to find?"

Su Shen bowed deeply before replying. "We have. Its Name is Death."

They followed We Chang to a chamber where the Scholars had kept the container under lock and key. Now knowing the cube's Name, We Chang began using his adept magic to weave a magical thread from his True pattern to it. During the process, his eyes were fixed on the Container of Kai Shi, narrowed in concentration, while his hands wove complex patterns before his face.

Though Daylen could not see anything, he knew that the adept was seeing into astral space, unraveling the mysteries of the container's True pattern while manipulating the magical threads.

Then, without warning, a golden light rippled across the glossy surface of the cube and was gone, leaving behind a revealed keyhole surrounded by a circle of finely etched Cathayan writing.

"A keyhole.," mumbled the Scholar, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Daylen looked at Bik-Bik expectantly.

"Sorry, not this time," said the ferret.

The Scholars set to work on researching the cube's ancient script right away. It was not until much later that night, after they had a full meal and were sitting in their quarters, when Daylen and Bik-Bik discovered that the ferret's curse was lifted. At first Bik-Bik was unsure, but as the hour at which he should have returned to his jade state slipped further and further behind, he grew ecstatic, and then after that initial reaction of joy, his mood suddenly turned somber.

"But. now what?" the ferret asked, more to himself than to the merchant.

"What do you mean?" Daylen asked, confused. "Isn't this what you've always wanted?"

"Well, yes!" Bik-Bik reassured him. "It's just. it feels like it's been so long since I haven't thought of anything else other than this one goal. And now that it's accomplished.," he paused, appearing lost. "I don't know what to do with myself," he finally concluded.

Daylen thought about it for a moment, understanding how the ferret felt. He had spent a majority of his life driven by a singularity of purpose, believing that the prize at the end of the tunnel would bring him the fulfillment he had always hoped for. Now he was not so sure. He thought again of the Ka-Li dragon; was it true? Had he been feeding a darkness within himself his entire life? Had he always been pursuing the wrong things?

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and left, leaving Bik-Bik to his musings while he sought out Su Shen to tell her the news. Dusk was settling on the valley when he stepped outside. The fine mist from the twin waterfalls clung to his clothes. He crossed the narrow bridge and stepped into the shaded willow gardens. He found her there, sitting in the small clearing, with her knees folded beneath her, her back poised and straight, the back of her slender hands resting gently on her thighs, her palms facing the canopy above. Her long, dark hair was out of its usual ponytail and fell freely behind her back. Her eyes flashed open at the sound of crunching grass when Daylen approached.

"Daylen Jagaro," she said. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"No, I just.," Daylen lost his train of thought for a moment. What did he come to find her for?

Then he remembered, "I just came to tell you that Bik-Bik is free from his curse."

Su Shen nodded, taking the news with little reaction. She was nothing if not stoic, Daylen concluded.

She stood suddenly, looking at the trees as if seeing them for the first time, her thoughts clearly far away.

"I remember when I first saw these trees," she said without taking her eyes off of them. Daylen was shocked; she had never made conversation with him before. He did not know what to say, so instead he decided to say nothing and just listen.

"I was just a girl; maybe five years old. Soldiers had destroyed my village. My parents and my brothers were killed. I was taken, along with some of the others, to the center of the village. I think the enemy soldiers were going to keep us as slaves, or maybe sell us. I'm not sure."

Her voice was quiet as she spoke, her eyes downcast as she relived the memory.

"Three Daughters of Heaven arrived and demanded that they release us. There was a fight, but the soldiers were no match for them." She held up her arm that held the bracer, her six pearls catching the dying sunlight that filtered through the trees.

"They each had at least twice as many pearls as I have now. They took me, along with several of the other girls, back here to the tower where we were trained in their ways." She paused again, lost in the memory, and then said, "Out of all of us who made that long journey all of those years ago, I'm the only one who still lives."

A soft sadness crept into her voice then; a sadness that plundered Daylen's heart.

"I'm... sorry," was all he managed, his mind failing to find the right words.

She looked at him then, a small smile on her lips. For the first time, Daylen saw her without her hardness, and it sent fire through his flesh.

"You did well, Daylen," she said, the lack of the use of his last Name not lost on the merchant. "If it was not for you, we could not have retrieved the Container of Kai Shi and stopped the Shadowed."

Daylen smiled humbly, embarrassed, yet feeling pride swelling in his chest. "No, no. I'm sure you could have done it without me."

"Even so," she said, starting to leave, "we appreciate all that you have done. You are a credit to your people." And with that she swept past him with a final nod, heading back to the tower.

Daylen stood rooted to the spot, afraid to move as if motion would chase away the moment. But then darkness finally fell, and the willow garden turned black, so he returned to the tower to seek out a bath—something he had intended to do since they arrived. He found one on the lower level. While he soaked in the warm waters, he decided that he could be happy with a life like this.

He thought of the people of Ming Gu, and how they probably never left the village their entire lives. That thought would have horrified him before, but he could recognize the merits now. Comfort, surrounded by loved ones in an idyllic setting. it was appealing. He supposed there was more to life than just money and success.

There was a light tapping at the door, and one of the younger initiates entered to take his clothing, explaining that it was his duty to clean wardrobes. Daylen waved his hand dismissively.

"Sure," he said to the boy, too preoccupied with replaying the moment in the willow garden over in his mind. It was not until later, after he returned to his chamber while draped in a simple white robe, when he realized he forgot to remove his orichalcum box and contract first.

Su Shen stood in the room. His robe, cleaned and sewn, lay neatly on his bed next to his orichalcum box and contract. Bik-Bik sat silently on the bed. "I passed the initiate as he was on his way to clean your robe. I took it from him with the intention of sewing the tear; after all, I was the one who ruined it." Her gaze had not left the contract as she spoke, but then she turned to him, her eyes cold. "If your intention was to come to my country in order to deal in slaves," she reached down and snatched up the contract, "then it appears I have overestimated you, and what they say about Westerners is true."

Daylen's heart sank. The dreadful feeling that he had felt while battling the Ka-Li dragon returned: an agonizing regret that he was powerless to undo. "No, Su Shen," he began, "it's not what it looks like. I-,"

"I expect you out of here by the morning. Here's the gold we promised you." She cut him off, tossing a pouch of coins onto the bed. With that, she pushed past him, out of the room and down the hall, ignoring the calls he threw after her.

Dispirited, he sat heavily onto the bed. He looked to Bik-Bik, who sat still, remaining quiet.

"I suppose you hate me now too?" he asked the ferret.

"Nah," said Bik-Bik, breaking his silence. "I traveled with the world's most notorious Thief for years. A little slavery never bothered me."

Daylen said nothing, feeling suddenly very weary. Things had gone from good to bad so quickly that his head was spinning. He picked up the pouch of coins that Su Shen had thrown down. He hefted it in his palm, testing its weight a couple of times: an old habit. He could tell that it was a great deal of coin. It brought him no pleasure.

He finally got dressed. He tucked his orichalcum box back into his robe but paused when he picked up the contract. He stared at it. It felt like a great weight in his hand. Then, after a heavy sigh, he tucked it back into his robe as well. Then, seeing little point in waiting until morning, he decided to leave.

"I'm not sure where I'm going," he said woodenly to the Cathayan ferret, "but you're welcome to join me."

Bik-Bik shrugged. "I suppose that sounds like a plan."

Together they left the tower, Bik-Bik sitting on the merchant's shoulders. Daylen avoided both the village and Jin'Lo's Chariot as he passed through the valley, the thought of being dragged into a conversation with someone at the moment unbearable. He had thought briefly about finding Bei and saying goodbye, but he was fairly certain that Su Shen would have already spoken with him, and the obsidiman would probably receive him in much the same manner as she had.

"What's that?" asked Bik-Bik as they neared the end of the valley.

"What?" Daylen turned, asking before he saw it: the dark silhouette of an airship, hovering just above the tower.

"Is that.?" he was about to ask if it was Jin'Lo's Chariot, but then he saw that ship still anchored in the valley.

There was a sudden, brilliant flash as a fireball raced from the hovering ship and crashed into the tower with a fiery explosion. A moment later, a sound like thunder rolled down the valley.

"The Shadowed.," he said, knowing somehow that they were there for the container. Before he realized what he was doing, his legs were pumping, carrying him back toward the tower.

"What are you doing?!" Bik-Bik cried.

"It's the Shadowed!" he yelled without breaking his stride. He could hear the sailors on Jin'Lo's Chariot shouting in astonishment as he passed by, but he paid little attention. A second fireball streaked from the hull of the airship, smashing into the tower with a tremendous roar.

"Yes! I know! That's my point!" said the ferret, gesturing wildly. "What is with you humans? You're supposed to rush away from danger! Away from danger!" He huffed when Daylen ignored him.

"This must be nature's way of thinning your race out," he decided with a resigned sigh.

The tall blades of grass slapped at Daylen as he crashed through them. Unaccustomed to sprinting, his lungs and thighs quickly began to burn, but he ignored them, his eyes fixed on the ship and tower.

A third fireball fell with a boom, and Daylen could see the villagers gathering in a huddled mass, gazing up at the tower in fear. Had the war come to the tower? Were they all doomed? Their faces expressed the questions unable to escape their awestruck lips. Daylen raced past them, and up the twisting path, his legs screaming in protest but carried forward by adrenaline. As he drew closer, he saw great dark shapes swarming about the ship and the tower: yen'hi'ji.

A fourth fireball exploded; the sound was much louder from the closer distance. Then a second shape added itself to the sky: Jin'Lo's Chariot! It fired a volley of fireballs into the enemy ship, and the two vessels began combating. By the time Daylen reached the top of the path, the Shadowed were retreating, the ship sailing off into the distance. From far below, Daylen could hear the villagers cheering in joy. And then he collapsed. His thighs were twisted knots of pain, and every breath felt like he was sucking fire into his lungs.

He did not know how long he lay there in the dirt, but when he finally had the strength to stand, he carried himself the rest of the way to the tower. Scattered near the base were several bodies of Scholars and yen'hi'ji, an aftermath of a violent skirmish. Jin'Lo's

Chariot swung in next to the precipice, dropping a plank next to the waterfall so the sailors could disembark.

Black scorch marks marred the tower in the places where it had been struck by fireballs, but the fires themselves were out. Daylen remembered learning that the tower was magically enchanted to resist the elements and thought how fortunate that was. He came upon Su Shen and Bei, who were tending the injured. Nearby stood We Chang, three large scratches pulled down across the top of his bald head where a yen'hi'ji's claws had caught him. He stood with a grim, yet solemn dignity, one hand gripping his Moon Staff.

"Daylen Jagaro," said We Chang as he approached, "it is good to see you alive." Su Shen turned at the sound of his Name, though she seemed less inclined to agree with We Chang's sentiments.

"I saw the attack. I ran back as fast as I could," he explained.

"Despite my better judgment," Bik-Bik muttered.

"I am afraid your bravery is too late," said the Scholar. "The yen'hi'ji escaped with the Container of Kai Shi."

"Well, we should get after them!" called Jin'Lo, appearing suddenly beside them. "We can cast off right now!"

"Yes, you must," agreed We Chang. "Before the attack, we discovered the container's dark purpose. The Container of Kai Shi holds the Gong of the Dark Warrior—the instrument created by the Passions to seal the Guardian of Winter below Mount Tihan. The Passions gave it to the mortal Kai Shi and charged him with its protection. Eventually it fell into the hands of the great dragon Luung, who then took up the charge of its protection. If the Shadowed know how to open the container, then all they must do is bang the gong once, and it will release the Dark Warrior and bring about Eternal Winter."

"Then we must be off," said Su Shen, and she and Bei began marching toward Jin'Lo's Chariot.

"I'm coming too!" called Daylen.

Su Shen spun to face him. "No."

"Su Shen," said We Chang, softly. "His destiny is a part of this quest. Do not forget that it was he who recovered the container from the Wandering Mountains. The Passions may yet have a part for him to play."

At first Daylen did not think she was going to listen to him, but in the end she simply nodded, turned back around, and walked stiffly to the ship. Daylen hurried after her.

"I think I'm going to have to reevaluate our relationship," said Bik-Bik to Daylen as he ran up the ramp.

CHAPTER 17

The ship they chased was a dark silhouette in the distance. Jin'Lo and his men were experienced sailors, but despite their best efforts, they could not gain on the shadowy vessel.

"Their vessel is fast," Jin'Lo grumbled. "But they will not elude us." The dwarf spoke the truth. For several days they chased the enemy ship, and the distance between them neither grew nor shrank.

Throughout the journey, Su Shen and Bei did not speak to Daylen. He felt like he was starting over; all of the respect that he had won was lost. Even Jin'Lo and the other sailors seemed to take a cue from the Daughter of Heaven and give Daylen nothing but cold shoulders and rude looks. Bik-Bik was his only and constant companion, and Daylen found that he was very grateful for the little ferret, finding even his bitter pessimism, which was tireless, more comforting than the surly stares from the others.

Finally, after several days of chasing the ship across the skies, there appeared a dark mountain range in the distance.

"The Demon Gate Mountains," said Jin'Lo. "They must be heading to Mount Tihan."

Mount Tihan. So it was true; the Shadowed knew the secrets of the Container of Kai Shi, and they would release the Dark Warrior upon the earth. Mount Tihan and the surrounding countryside were a haven for Horrors, Daylen had heard. Something about the place attracted them, much like the Badlands and the Wastes

did in Barsaive. The Horrors were attracted to regions of death and desolation.

The enemy vessel swung low toward a volcano, the slopes of which were devastated from a recent eruption. Blasted tree trunks lay scattered like charred bones. A thick gray smoke trailed lazily upward from the mountain's crater. Crowded on the deck, they watched as the ship lowered anchor, and two figures disembarked. Even from the great distance, Daylen could clearly make them out: the dark jade obsidiman and the storm child. Then the enemy ship raised back into the sky and turned towards them.

"Hard to starboard!" yelled Jin'Lo to his men. "Make them turn into the sun!"

The sailors responded, and Jin'Lo's Chariot swung hard to the right. They were higher than the enemy ship, and with their backs to the late-morning sun; they would have no trouble winning the fight. However, the Shadowed surely must have realized their hopeless situation as well.

"They're just buying time," said Su Shen, coming to the same conclusion. "Jin'Lo, we must get to the mountain!"

The dwarf's face wrinkled as he thought.

"Take the rowboat!" he exclaimed suddenly. "We'll hold them off!"

Su Shen nodded, and her and Bei ran for a small airboat attached near the side of the ship. With the help of a few other sailors, they lowered it over the side. Daylen ran to the rail, and Bik-Bik hopped off of his shoulder.

"I'm not going down there!" the ferret protested.

Daylen did not have time to argue. "Fine!" he said. "I'll see you when I get back!"

"If you get back!" Bik-Bik retorted.

Daylen climbed down after them. He expected Su Shen to protest, and had an argument all worked out and ready in his head, but instead they did not even give him a second look, only casting off. Bei grabbed the oars and began paddling down towards the mountain. Behind them, Jin'Lo's Chariot and the enemy ship engaged one another, and the still late-morning air was suddenly alive with the roaring of fire cannons.

The ground grew nearer and nearer. Daylen's eyes were fixed on the slopes of the mountain when he saw a dark shadow out of the corner of his eyes. "Look out!" he cried.

Su Shen and Bei turned just in time to see a yen'hi'ji drop down upon them. Its great black wings beat fiercely as it swiped at them with its long, dark claws. Bei let go of the oars and grabbed up his sword. Seeing the weapon, the yen'hi'ji dropped from view. A moment later, the rowboat rocked fiercely, nearly tipping over. The yen'hi'ji was beneath them, shoving upwards, trying to flip the small vessel.

Bei threw his weight against the side of the boat, preventing it from tipping, and Su Shen leaned over the side, her slender sword in her hand, and swiped at one of the creature's wings. The sharp blade tore through muscle and flesh, and the beast let out a terrific roar of pain. Its wing, now useless, quit flapping, and the yen'hi'ji dropped like a stone from the sky, spinning in a tight spiral.

The rowboat drifted down to the slopes and they hopped out. The air smelled of ash and smoke. There was a clear trail leading to a partially hidden cave; a scattering of burned tree trunks rose up from the ash like jagged, black teeth. Far above, the sounds of battle continued.

Su Shen and Bei hurried up the slope with Daylen close behind. They ducked inside the cave and found themselves in a narrow passage lit by a dim red light filtering down to them from somewhere deep within. When the passageway opened into a wider cavern, they were confronted by a dozen well armed men who were guarding another passageway that led even further into the mountain.

Wasting no time, Su Shen and Bei threw themselves into the melee without hesitation. The first man, taken by surprise, tried to throw his head backwards out of the way of Su Shen's blade, which arced towards his face. He was not fast enough. The tip of her slender sword struck him in the lips, slicing through flesh and dragging across his teeth. He fell to his knees, his hands clasped to his face, a crimson stream pouring down between his fingers.

Bei twirled his great two-bladed sword, taking the head off of the first man that rushed to meet him and disemboweling a second. Within moments, the cavern floor was littered with red bodies and limbs, and the air was filled with the black stench of death.

When two figures emerged from the second corridor, Daylen did not have time to yell a warning before his limbs were seized in place by an unseen force. He tried to move, and found that only his eyes would respond, not even his voice would come. The same spell held Su Shen and Bei, and the storm child, along with the dark obsidiman called Wang Yeh, stepped triumphantly forward. The surviving cultists parted before them as they marched up to their prisoners.

"Thank you," purred the Sorceress, her voice smooth, her eyes like balls of white fire, her red lips curved into a slender smile. She glided up to Su Shen and Bei, stopping before them. "I knew you would come," she said. "It saves us the trouble of finding you."

The spell prevented them from speaking, which Daylen could tell Su Shen was struggling to do.

Wang Yeh, smirking, pulled Bei's sword from his stiff grip.

"Swordbearer," Wang Yeh spat the title contemptuously at his obsidiman brother. "You have no idea what this sword's true purpose is. You are like a mindless drone, just like all of the others, groping about blindly for the meaning of the riddle." He sniffed, turning his back on Bei and taking a few steps away from him.

"The fate of the empire lies within this sword," Wang Yeh quoted over his shoulder. And then, with a mighty swing, brought the sword down against the stone floor, as if he were chopping wood with an axe. There was a tremendous ringing when the metal met the stone, accompanied by a loud snap. The sword broke in half in its center at the hilt. The two blades fell separately, clattering to the floor.

Daylen saw Bei's eyes grow wide, and he could only imagine the fury and anguish the obsidiman must have felt.

Wang Yeh turned to Bei, smiling.

"What's that, brother?" he asked. "Did I commit a terrible sacrilege?" And then he leaned down, picking something up from off the floor near the ruined sword. He held it up in front of his face between thumb and forefinger.

Daylen squinted his eyes. In the dim red glow he could just barely make out what it was: a key.

"All of this time," said the obsidiman, "and none of you Swordbearers ever realized what you were truly carrying. I learned what all of you had failed to : the key was inside the hilt, designed to fall out safely once it was snapped in two."

He turned then to the Sorceress, who set the Container of Kai Shi on the floor. He handed the key to his mistress, and she slid it into the keyhole. There was a brilliant golden flash, accompanied by a low, barely audible boom, more felt than heard, like the heartbeat of a great giant.

The container expanded, stretching until it was five times its size, and then it melted away as if it were ice, leaving behind a simple, nondescript brass gong.

The Sorceress held up the prize, gazing at it with adoration.

"The Gong of the Dark Warrior," she whispered. Then, without removing her icy white eyes from the gong, she said to Wang Yeh, "Bring them. I want them to witness the birth of Eternal Winter."

They were taken up above, to the dark slopes of Mount Tihan. The airships were nowhere to be seen in the skies, and Daylen wondered what had become of Jin'Lo. The spell that bound them was reduced in power so they were able to move their feet, allowing them to walk up the slopes, though they were disarmed and surrounded by several cultists.

They were led to the lip of the crater, where the Sorceress stood, poised with the gong in her hand. Wang Yeh stood next to her, carrying the broken pieces of Bei's sword, one blade in each fist.

The crater was at least a mile across. Daylen stared down the gray sandy slope to the dark pit from where the swirling, ashy smoke poured forth, wondering what might emerge. As if to sate his curiosity, the Sorceress struck the gong with the palm of her hand. and the skies grew dark.

Thunder rolled overhead, and dark clouds gathered. The long trail of dark smoke was whipped by a sudden cold wind, and the earth began to shake.

"It is time!" yelled the Sorceress, jubilant, her hands reaching towards the sky, still holding the gong. "Eternal Winter is upon us! The Dark Warrior is released!"

A column of lava erupted in a geyser from the center of the crater, pooling and filling, rising slowly up towards them. Daylen could see, floating on the surface, large chunks of glittering True fire, some as large as small houses.

Never in his life had Daylen seen True fire in such large quantities; it was unheard of. He thought briefly about how much gold all of that True fire would be worth. And then something dark rose from beneath the growing lake of fire, pushing and swelling like an emerging island. It rose slowly, lava pouring off in streams. The size of a dragon, it was an enormous tortoise, but where the normal head of a turtle would be was instead a long, dark serpent.

Its massive shell was black, dull, and gleamless, charred from the heat of its prison. Its long, forked tongue flicked out, tasting the freedom it had for so long been denied.

It gazed down at them, and Daylen could see within that gaze a sharp, snarling hatred for anything that valued warmth and life. Its eyes were deep, dark wells in which all the world suffered. It was a forgotten demon of the ancient world; a dark shadow of yesterday.

A swirling miasma of ash rose up around it, and despite the intense heat from the lava, its flesh was like cold iron, cooling the lava to stone with but a touch. It reared up before them all, terrible and eternal, and set Daylen's bowels to ice.

A tingling sensation, like tiny needles, suddenly pricked Daylen's fingertips. The spell was wearing off! He looked over at Su Shen and Bei, as best he could without being able to twist his neck, and saw their fingers twitching as well. He looked back at the Sorceress, suddenly worried, but she was too engrossed in rapture to notice that her spell's duration was at an end.

"You are free!" she yelled, reaching up toward her dark master. "And, as promised, a sacrifice of your willing servants!"

She turned then, facing the cultists, who seemed suddenly confused. Smiling, she gently lifted her arm towards them, and a white, fiery arc of lightning lept from her fingers and struck the nearest cultist dead. Panic ensued. The others tried to flee down the slopes, but the Sorceress' deadly spells caught them all, one after the other, and soon the hillside was littered with smoking corpses.

She turned to her master, smiling and triumphant.

The Dark Warrior only stared down at her, tilting its head and flicking its tongue, its neck pulled back in an "S."

"No child," a deep, thundering voice, more felt than heard, spoke. "You misunderstand. The one who struck the gong must be sacrificed "

Fear barely had time to register on the Sorceress' face before the Dark Warrior's head lashed out, and then the Sorceress, as well as the gong that she held, were gone, vanished down the great creature's throat.

The Dark Warrior seemed to swell then, growing more immense. The ground rumbled again, and thunder crashed overhead. Day became night as the gathering storm clouds finally blocked off the afternoon sun.

The spell wore off completely for all three of them at the same time. Bei roared and rushed Wang Yeh, who still stood shocked at the death of his mistress. He heard the battle cry and spun, just as Bei crashed into him, sending him over the edge of the crater. Wang Yeh tumbled uncontrollably down the steep slope, over and over, until he finally fell with a splash into the bubbling lava, and then he was gone.

Daylen looked back to Bei, who suddenly sank to his knees. One of the blades that Wang Yeh had been holding was now stabbed through the obsidiman, entering his stomach and coming out of his lower back.

Su Shen rushed to his side. Daylen looked up at the Dark Warrior, who was now gazing at them.

"Su Shen!" he yelled. "Get him out of here!"

Su Shen looked at him, uncertain, but then looked back at the Dark Warrior and nodded. She helped Bei to his feet, and the two began struggling down the slope of the mountain.

Alone with the ancient entity, Daylen turned and confronted him. It stared down at him, studying him, curious as to what mortal would be foolish enough to face him. Daylen reached into his robes and pulled out his contract. He stared at it for a moment, remembering all of the dreams he had when first coming to this country, and then crumpled the scroll into a ball and tossed it down into the lava. It flared and was gone before reaching the fiery pit.

Then, he reached into his robe and pulled out his orichalcum box, opening the top and staring inside.

He wondered if his cousin Valen would miss him. He doubted it. No one in Barsaive would miss him. He wondered if Su Shen would miss him. He thought that maybe she would, in her own way, and that thought gave him courage. He remembered Bei's lessons and drew his hand back to his ear while gazing down at the small mountain of True fire that had gathered below the Dark Warrior in the great pool of lava. He imagined that it filled the world. He could not miss.

He threw his arm forward.

... the Dark Warrior's head pulled back......and let go.

As the orichalcum left his fingertips, Daylen thought he felt a surge of energy flash from his belly and up his arm. The kernels of True air tumbled from the open box as sparkling white dots. They sailed over the lava, down and down into the crater, all the way to the True fire.

There was a bright flash, and Daylen was aware of a tremendous shockwave, and then the black shroud fell.

CHAPTER 18

Su Shen and Bei were far enough down the mountain when it erupted. His knees had finally given out, and she could not support his weight. The ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet, and they both collapsed. The lava seemed to reach for the heavens, spraying upwards in a fiery column. The earth shook and rumbled as if trying to tear itself apart, and from somewhere within that geyser of lava Su Shen heard a great roar of fury and anger. And then it was quiet. The lava seemed to cool instantly, turning into a black, twisted mass of smoking stone. The clouds parted and the sun reemerged. There was no sign of the Dark Warrior—or Daylen Jagaro.

A thick cloud of smoke, blown by a warm wind, swept down the mountain slope and passed over them. When it cleared, there emerged a figure, stumbling dazedly down the twisting path. It was the Westerner. He was covered from head to toe in gray ash, but he seemed unharmed. He coughed, spraying a mouthful of sandy ash and then fell to his knees, exhausted.

"What.happened?" he blinked.

Su Shen shook her head. "I was going to ask you.?"

Daylen's face was like a phantom, his brown eyes peeking through a mask of gray. He shook his head. "I don't remember," he said. "I threw my kernels of True air, and that's the last thing I can really recall."

"The Passions may yet have a part for him to play," We Chang's words played over in Su Shen's mind.

"The Passions have spared you," she said, certain that it was true. "Your selfless sacrifice earned our salvation. You have resealed the Dark Warrior, and the gong along with him."

"Did I.?" Daylen was still too dazed to comprehend what was going on, but at least he seemed uninjured. And then she suddenly remembered. Bei!

She looked down at the obsidiman. He lay on his back, still as a mountain, his eyes glazed over and staring unseeing up at the blue sky. His white and green skin seemed somehow dull and muted. Daylen approached on his knees, gazing over her shoulder.

"Is he.?" he began to ask, but it was all too clear that the mighty Warrior was dead.

He had been a true friend and ally to Su Shen. She reached down and grasped the broken hilt of the sword firmly with both hands and pulled. It came free with a sucking noise. She tossed it aside and laid her hands over his wound.

"What are you doing?" asked Daylen. She did not have time to explain it to him. She reached deep within herself, summoning her magic. She could feel her chi in the pit of her stomach like a small flame, its warmth slowly spreading through her limbs and down to the palms of her hands. She exhaled slowly, imagining her health and her strength pouring into the prone obsidiman. She could feel the wound slowly closing beneath her palms, and suddenly he blinked.

He sat up, blinking many times. Daylen's jaw hung open.

"How.?" the Westerner began.

"The magic of the phoenix is very powerful," was all she said.

"The Dark Warrior?" Bei cast his gaze back at the mountain, which lay silently like some dark, brooding giant.

"Resealed," she told him reassuringly. He nodded.

A dark shape swooped in from the sky. Su Shen's hand went for her sword, but then she saw that it was Jin'Lo's Chariot. As it neared, she saw that its hull was scorched where it had been hit by several fire balls, but the damage was mostly superficial. When it lowered anchor, she could see Jin'Lo waving enthusiastically from the deck.

"We sent them to the ground in a pile of flaming wreckage!" the dwarf yelled triumphantly. She offered him a smile.

When they climbed aboard, the Cathayan ferret scrambled up Daylen to his shoulder.

"I can't believe the three of you survived," said Bik-Bik.

"You're not that disappointed, are you?" asked Daylen.

"No," the ferret shrugged. "Just surprised." Daylen laughed.

"Raise anchor!" yelled Jin'Lo, and soon the ship was drifting slowly into the sky, turning to head back home.

XXX

Daylen had managed to clean out most of the ash from his clothing by the time they arrived back at the Tower of Secrets several days later, though he could still smell it. Sometimes he could even taste it. The village of Ming Gu held a great feast for them and for the Scholars who had died during the attack from the yen'hi'ji.

"I must return to my Brotherhood," said Bei when it was over. "I must inform them about Wang Yeh and the sword."

Su Shen bowed. "Until we meet again."

Bei turned to Daylen. "It was good to have met you, Daylen. I hope our paths cross again."

Daylen smiled, a feeling of warmth spreading throughout his chest. "It was an honor."

Daylen extended his hand. Bei looked at it for a moment and then finally grasped it, grinning his stony grin.

Later, after he was gone, Bik-Bik asked Daylen what his plans were.

"I'm not quite sure," he said.

"Well," said Bik-Bik, "I know this land pretty well. Granted, it's been over eight hundred years since I've seen it last, but I probably still know it better than you."

"Are you offering to come with me?" asked Daylen.

"I think I should," replied the ferret. "After all, who knows what kind of trouble you'll manage to get yourself into? You'll need me."

Daylen nodded, smiling. "I'm sure I will."

As he prepared to leave the valley, he sought out Su Shen.

"I'm leaving with Jin'Lo," he told her. "I just wanted to say goodbye first."

She smiled. "We will see each other again," she said. "Until then, safe journey." She leaned in and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. Daylen thought his heart was going to batter through his chest as she turned to walk back to the tower. He watched her go, wondering if he should chase after her.

"In your dreams, Westerner," sighed Bik-Bik from his shoulder, as if reading his thoughts.

"What?" he said innocently, turning to walk back to Jin'Lo's ship.

"What do you mean, what?" said Bik-Bik. "You know perfectly well what I mean."

"Just because you traveled with Ping for so many years, doesn't mean you know all humans."

"Oh, I think I do," said the ferret with a laugh. "If there's one thing that makes human men go stupid, it's women they can't have."

"That's not true," Daylen tried to deny, walking up the ramp of the ship.

"And you also deny things that are perfectly obvious to everyone else."

"We do not!"

They continued to argue as the ship lifted away and drifted into the sunset.

EPILOGUE

There was cold stone pressed against his back. It was dark. Quiet. Something lay over him. Reaching up, he dragged it off of his body, and light appeared. He was in a small, stone room, lying on the floor. Flickering candles lay in a circle around him. He held a black shroud in his hand.

Where was he?

He sat up, and his head spun. He felt thirsty. His throat was dry and his lips were chapped. He smacked them. For a moment he thought he might be sick, but it passed.

Where was he?

He looked around again. A simple, small stone room with a single wooden door, closed.

How did he get here?

He stood. He was regaining his strength. He let the black shroud fall from his fist. It fell to a crumple on the floor.

The last thing he remembered was falling. The ferret had bit his hand, and he had let go and fallen. Where was his cobra whip? He looked around. There were no items in the room. He flexed his fists. He was feeling strong again. He had died. That was clear.

He had fallen from the airship, down to the earth. He remembered the anger in his heart as he hit the ground; the anger at his failure. His father would have laughed at his weakness. His father had always laughed at him. Beat him. Told him how weak he was. Until the day he had sunk the blade of his skinning knife into his

father's stomach. Then his father had not laughed. That was the first time he had seen his father cry.

The display of such weakness drove him into a rage, and he had stomped on his father's head until one of his eyeballs had popped out. How old had he been? Sixteen? They were in the forest behind their village. He had gone to his home then, leaving his father's body to the wild, and when his mother asked him what happened he had killed her too. She was weak. Weak like his father. He had wandered, then. Wandered until he had found the Shadowed. The Shadowed were not weak.

But who had brought him back to life?

He did not recognize this room. He moved to the door, only to find it locked. He pounded his fist on the wood. Silence answered. He would not be trapped like an animal! He was no one's prisoner. He threw his massive frame against the door. It shuddered but held. He felt his rage growing within him. He stepped back and kicked the door as hard as he could, the bottom of his large foot landing right next to the latch. The door did not budge. He threw his rage at the door, pounding and kicking, screaming at the top of his lungs. And then it swung open. Suddenly. Silently. Revealing a large, rectangular chamber beyond. It resembled a crypt, but there were no tombs.

Where was he?

He suddenly wished he had his whip. He could no longer feel its presence; his magical threads were no longer attached to its True pattern. He had found the whip by accident several years ago. How long was it? Ten years? It did not matter. What mattered was that he had uncovered the magic of the whip and made it his own. And now it was gone, and he was defenseless. No, not defenseless. He had his hands. His strength. He chastised himself for his momentary weakness. No, if someone thought they would control him they would die. They would come to realize the mistake of bringing him back to life.

He stepped carefully out into the chamber. The air was cool and damp. The soft, weak light from the candles behind him filtered out through the doorway, revealing shadowy shapes stepping forward from the gloom. There were several of them, perhaps six. no, seven. eight. Dark, hooded robes concealed their features, hanging so long the bottoms dragged across the dusty floor. They glided forward like black phantoms, silent and awful.

"Who are you?" he asked, trying to sound intimidating. They reached up with pale, gray hands and threw back their hoods.

What are you?!

They were human. No, maybe they were once human, but no longer. Their flesh was dead, gray, pallid. There was no hair across that sickly flesh. No eyes.

Their eyelids were sewn shut with dark thread. Their lips, too, were sewn shut. Yet they stared at him. He could feel their sight crawling across his flesh.

Nethermonks.

Yes, that is what they were. Nethermonks. He had heard of them before. Dark creatures, terrible and mysterious. They engaged in horrific acts of magic that involved Name-giver sacrifice and self-mutilation. Their powers were legendary. What did they want with him? Why did they bring him back to life? They had him surrounded, though they did not move to attack.

"Of course not," he thought, cursing himself as a fool. "Why would they bring me back to life only to attack me? They must have some foul purpose for me."

And then it dawned on him. A sacrifice! He was a powerful adept, after all, and the sacrifice of an adept was more potent than the sacrifice of a non-adept. Well they were not going to take him without a fight. He raised his fists.

"Come on!" he yelled his challenge. His powerful voice rang off the silent stone walls. "Come on!"

They did not move. But then, one of the taller figures from the back stepped forward. He carried a tall, knotted staff of twisted black wood. Was it magical? Was he to be struck down by it?

But the staff wielder did not attack. Instead, he raised his pale hand and extended a single finger toward one of the walls. Following the finger with his eyes, he saw that the nethermonk was pointing to a stairwell leading up.

He hesitated. "You want me to go up there?" he asked, his mind working fiercely. Was it a trap? Was there a fiendish device waiting for him at the top of those stairs? The nethermonk nodded. Slowly. Yes, go up the stairs, it seemed to say.

He walked cautiously toward the stairwell, never lowering his fists or turning his back on the nethermonks. They turned to watch him go. Up the stairs he went, backwards at first until he was certain they were not following. The stairwell was lit by fluttering torches. Up and up he went. Cautiously. Always peering ahead. He would not be taken unaware. The stairwell finally ended in a thick wooden door. He checked the latch. It was unlocked. With a click, the door swung open.

He stepped out into a large, lofty dining hall. Across from him, in the center of the chamber, lay a long, broad table, set with what looked like a sumptuous feast. Sitting around the table were six Name-givers: two humans, an ork, an elf, and a troll. A human male sat at the head of the table. He was young, perhaps in his thirties, smooth of face and handsome, almost effeminate, with long dark hair parted in the middle that fell down to his shoulders. All six of the figures wore lordly finery.

The door swung shut of its own accord behind him. He turned and saw that it was gone, replaced by a wall.

"Magic," he thought.

"Ah," the human at the head of the table said, "our guest has arrived! Please, won't you join us for a meal?"

The man's voice was soft like silk.

The smells of the food made his stomach growl. He had not realized how hungry he actually was.

"Who are you?" he asked as he approached. He stepped boldly. Confidently. He did not wish to appear weak.

"I am Lord Chin Zan," said the man at the head of the table. "Your body was found on my land. I am afraid the rest of your cell has been destroyed, and the gong has been lost."

He was shocked to hear of his colleagues' failure. He was certain the Sorceress would have succeeded.

"Then you are—," he began, but Lord Chin Zan cut him off.

"We are another cell, brother."

He sat. Yes. The Shadowed were many. The gong was destroyed, but there were other ways they could accomplish their goal. He scooped up a plate and began filling his dish with food. Yes, the Shadowed were many.

And the Shadowed were strong.