The Yu Dragon
The Yu Dragon
Feng Zhudai dipped the tip of his brush into a small pot of ink. His lips twitched into a faint, satisfied smile. With his left hand, he caught up the silken sleeve of his robe so it wouldn’t smudge the calligraphy. The brush hovered for an instant over a narrow strip of bamboo. Then, with graceful strokes, the Emperor’s advisor penned an order to execute his prisoner.
Carefully replacing the brush, he allowed the ink to dry before summoning his servant. The man entered timidly, his nose almost touching the floor. Irritated, Zhudai threw the order onto the polished wood.
“Ensure that is carried out before the end of the day.” He paused, dark eyes narrowed in thought as the eunuch scrabbled to pick up the bamboo slip. “And if General Ban Chao or Emperor Han Zhangdi find out, I will know who to blame. This must be done in secrecy. Do you understand?”
The top of the servant’s head bobbed as he bowed and nodded his nervous understanding. Satisfied, Zhudai waved him out and turned back to his desk. He smiled again but anyone watching would not have felt comforted by his expression.
Zhudai moved his long fingers in a curious, twisting motion and a small, dark, red-purple flame danced for a moment on the palm of his hand. As he watched, it curled into the shape of a slender woman who sat with her arms wrapped around her knees and her head buried in them. A miniature chain encircled her ankles and wrists.
The flame twisted and reformed into the image of a man; sprawled on an invisible floor and also chained. Zhudai’s unpleasant smile broadened. He moved his hand as though to dismiss the dancing light but, before he could, it shifted again into another shape. This time, a broad-shouldered warrior stalked purposefully across the sorcerer’s narrow palm. He looked...brooding, angry. A sword glinted in his hand.
With a snap of Zhudai’s fingers, the dusky-red flame vanished. His fine, black brows drew together in a frown. He stared blankly at his own hand for a moment then turned to look at the floor as though seeing through it to the levels below. He rose to his feet in a sudden, decisive movement. Sweeping long, black robes around himself, Zhudai strode toward the door on silent, soft-shod feet.
Outside, his secretary eyed the execution order with misgivings. It was the third one this week. At this rate, the Emperor had to hear of Zhudai’s doings. Anyone with any brains could sense a confrontation coming between the Emperor and his pet warlock. General Ban Chao, the only possible stumbling block to Zhudai’s ambition, had been sent on a sudden posting to India. It dawned on the hapless servant that he wanted to be well out of Xijing before Zhudai’s plans came to fruition.
As he pondered how he could arrange to have himself sent to Luoyang before the ri shi, his master appeared suddenly at his side. He jumped and almost made the fatal mistake of looking Zhudai in the eye. He knew it to be fatal, because the name of his masters’ previous secretary had been on an execution list three weeks before.
“Bring me the prisoner,” Zhudai demanded.
His servant glanced in confusion at the death sentence lying on his desk.
“Not that one, you imbecile. The girl. Yajat’s captive. Bring her to me. I think I have a use for her alive, after all.” Without waiting, the warlock vanished back into his rooms, leaving the secretary to stare after him in fearful bewilderment.
