Page 277 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“You came,” Nayimathun said. Her breaths were labored. “You should not have come.”

“I should have come sooner.” Tané lowered her head. “Forgive me. For letting them take you.”

“Someone took you first,” the dragon growled. A tooth was missing from her lower jaw. “You are hurt.”

“This is not my blood.” With unsteady hands, Tané opened the case at her hip and fumbled out the jewel. “I found one of the jewels you spoke about, Nayimathun. It was sewn into my side.” She held it out so the dragon could see it. “This Westerner claims he knows the one who has its twin.”

Nayimathun looked for a long time at the jewel, then at Loth, who was shaking in his boots.

“We can speak of this when we are in a safe place,” she said, “but by finding these jewels, you have given us a way to fight the Nameless One. For this, Tané, every dragon that draws breath is in your debt.” A faint light rippled through her scales. “I am still strong enough to break through the hull, but I must be free. You will need the key to my chains.”

“Tell me who has it.”

The dragon closed her eyes again.

“The Golden Empress,” she said.

62

East

The scholar was surrounded by flaming torches. It seemed to Niclays as if he had been circling the mulberry tree for hours, reading by firelight. During that time, hardly a word had passed between any of the pirates.

When the scholar finally straightened, every head flicked up. The Golden Empress was sitting nearby, sharpening her sword with one hand while her wooden arm weighted it in place. Each rasp of the whetstone down the blade cut Niclays to the quick.

“I am finished,” the scholar said.

“Good.” The Golden Empress did not deign to look up. “Tell us what you have learned.”

Trying not to breathe too hard, Niclays reached into his cloak for his handkerchief and mopped his brow.

“This is written in an ancient script of Seiiki,” the scholar said. “It tells the story of a woman named Neporo. She lived over a thousand years ago on this island. Komoridu.”

“We are all eager to hear it,” the Golden Empress said.

The scholar glanced up at the mulberry tree. Something about his expression still did not sit well with Niclays.

“Neporo lived in the fishing village of Ampiki. She made a paltry living as a pearl-diver, but despite her work, and that of her parents, her family had so little to live on that on some days, they had no choice but to eat leaves and soil from the forest floor.”

This was why Niclays had never understood Jannart’s obsession. History was miserable.

“When her younger sister died, Neporo decided to end the suffering. She would dive for rare golden pearls in the Unending Sea, where other pearl-divers dared not go. The water there was too cold, too rough—but Neporo saw no other choice. She rowed her little boat out from Ampiki, into the open sea. As she dived, a great typhoon blew away her boat, leaving her stranded among the unforgiving waves.

“Somehow she kept her head above water. With no idea how to read the stars, she could only swim for the brightest in the sky. Finally, she washed up on an island. She found it devoid of human life—but in a clearing, she beheld a mulberry tree of marvelous height. Weak with hunger, she ate of its fruit.” He traced some of the words with one finger. “Neporo wasdrunk on the thousand-flower wine. In ancient times, this was a poetic description for the elixir of life.”

The Golden Empress continued to sharpen her sword.

“Neporo finally escaped the island and returned home. For ten years, she tried to lead an ordinary life—she wed a kind painter and had a child with him. But her friends and neighbors noticed that she did not age, did not grow weak or sick. Some called her a goddess. Others feared her. Eventually, she left Seiiki and returned to Komoridu, where no one could look upon her as an abomination. The burden of immortality was so great that she considered taking her own life, but for her son, she chose to live.”

“The tree granted her immortality,” the Golden Empress said, still whetting the blade, “yet she believed herself able to take her own life.”

“The tree had granted her protection only from old age. She could still be hurt or killed by other means.” The scholar glanced at the tree. “Over the years, many followed Neporo to her island. Black doves and white crows flew to her, for she was mother to the outcasts.”

Laya tightened her grip on Niclays, and he tightened his on her.

“We should leave,” she breathed against his ear. “Niclays, the tree is dead. There is no elixir.”

Niclays swallowed. The Golden Empress seemed absorbed; he could slip away unnoticed.

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