Page 177 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

The Golden Empress barked a laugh at that.

“You are funny, Sea-Moon,” she said. “You people from over the Abyss are always laughing. No wonder you have so many jesters in your courts.” Those black eyes bored into him. “I see you. I know what you want, and it has nothing to do with your cock. It has to do with the dragon we took from Ginura.”

Niclays deemed it best to remain silent at this point. An armed madwoman was not to be taken lightly.

“What do you want from it?” she asked. “Saliva, perhaps, to perfume a lover? Brains to cure the bloody flux?”

“Anything.” Niclays cleared his throat. “I am an alchemist, you see, all-honored Golden Empress.”

“An alchemist.”

Her tone was scathing. “Yes,” Niclays said, with great feeling. “A method-master. I studied the art at university.”

“I was under the impression that you had studied anatomy. That was why I gave you a post. Let you live.”

“Oh,yes,” he said hastily. “Iaman anatomist—an excellent one, I assure you, a giant of my field—but I also pursued alchemy out of passion for the subject. I have sought the secret of eternal life for many years. Though I have not yet been able to brew an elixir, I believe Eastern dragons could help me. Their bodies age over thousands of years, and if I could only re-create that—”

He stopped dead, awaiting her judgment. She had never taken her gaze off him.

“So,” she said, “you wish to persuade me that your brain is not as soft as your spine. Doubtless it would be simpler for me to cut off the top of your skull and see for myself.”

Niclays dared not answer.

“I think we could strike a bargain, Sea-Moon. Perhaps you are the sort of man who knows how to do business.” The Golden Empress reached into her coat. “You said this item was bequeathed to you by a friend. Tell me more about him.”

She pulled out a familiar scrap of writing. In her gloved hand was the last piece of Jannart.

“I want to know,” she said, “who gave this to you.” When he was silent, she held it toward the stove. “Answer me.”

“The love of my life,” Niclays said, heart pounding. “Jannart, Duke of Zeedeur.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“No. Only that he bequeathed it to me.”

“Why?”

“Would that I knew.”

The Golden Empress narrowed her eyes.

“Please,” Niclays said hoarsely. “That fragment of writing is all I have left of him. All that remains.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. She laid the fragment on the table. The gentleness with which she handled it made Niclays realize she would never have set it on fire.

Fool, he thought.Never show your weakness.

“This writing,” the Golden Empress said, “is part of an Eastern text from long ago. It tells of a source of eternal life. A mulberry tree.” She patted it. “I have been searching for this missing piece for many years. I expected it to contain directions, but it does not yield the location of this tree. All it does is complete the story.”

“Is this not just . . . a legend, all-honored Golden Empress?”

“All legends have truth in them. I should know,” she said. “Some say I ate the heart of a tiger and it sent me mad. Some say I am a water ghost. What is true is that I despise the so-called gods of the East. All rumor that surrounds me stemmed from that.” She tapped a finger on the text. “I doubt the mulberry tree grew from the heart of the world, as the tale claims. What I donotdoubt is that it hides the secret to eternal life. So you see, you will not need to damage a dragon.”

Niclays could not quite take this in. Jannart had inherited the key to alchemy.

The Golden Empress considered him. He noticed for the first time that there were notches down the length of her wooden arm. She beckoned to Laya, who had retrieved a gilded wooden box from under the throne.

“Here is my offer. If you can solve this puzzle and find us the route to the mulberry tree,” the Golden Empress said, “I will let you drink the elixir of life from it yourself. You will share in our spoils.”

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