"Forgive my discourtesy, but you do not call yourself
Lady Ruha. Do you require anything?"
Ruha scowled, puzzled by Hsieh's reaction. She was accustomed to strange reactions when people discov- ered she was a witch, but that did not seem to be what troubled the mandarin.
"Please, Minister Hsieh, I am not…"
Fowler's head twisted ever so slightly from side to side.
Since the captain had at least some acquaintance with the Shou, Ruha decided to follow his lead. "Please, I am not accustomed to showing my face. I need a shawl and
veil."
Hsieh glanced at his translator, who said something
into his ear. The mandarin scowled, and they had a short exchange, then the assistant bowed and scurried out of
the cabin.
"Yu Po goes to fetch finest scarves from our cargo."
As Hsieh spoke, the physician pulled a pair of silver tongs from his box. The old man opened the instrument slightly and slipped the jaws into the deepest part of
Ruha's wound, where she had glimpsed her white bone.
"Say if this hurt. Lady Ruha."
The physician closed the tongs, then worked them back and forth. Ruha heard a faint crunching sound. She felt a gentle vibration deep in her hip, but her leg had gone so numb below the tourniquet that she barely noticed the metal rubbing her mangled flesh. The old man gave his instrument a final twist and withdrew a huge triangle of serrated tooth.
"When the fish attacked, I… I heard something crack," Ruha gasped. "I thought the thing had broken my
leg."
"Leg fine. Bone strong."
The physician returned his tongs to the ivory box and withdrew a handful of yellow powder, which he carefully sprinkled into the bite. Once the entire gash was filled with the dust, he half-whistled a series of strange, high- pitched syllables. The powder vanished with a flash of
golden light; then a ring of brownish smoke drifted from the wound and filled the little cabin with the smell of brine and burnt flesh. The old man inspected the results, then took a hooked needle and a length of black thread from his box. When he began to sew, Ruha felt nothing more than an occasional tug.
The Shou crewmen soon pulled the raft's last survivor,
Arvold, into the cabin. Hsieh regarded the bedraggled sailmender with an enigmatic gaze, scrutinizing the shabby tunic and the length of rope that held up his trousers. He glanced at Captain Fowler, whose dress was only marginally better, then looked back to Ruha for an introduction.
"The sailmender," Ruha explained.
"Put him where you can watch him," warned Fowler.
"He's a hopeless thief, but he's good with a needle. I'd hate for you to lop off one of his hands."
Hsieh raised his brow at the frank appraisal, then spoke to two of his men, who promptly escorted the sail- mender out of the cabin.
"They put him with others," explained the mandarin.
"Others?" Ruha could not keep the hope out other voice. She considered the sinking of the Storm Sprite her doing, and it would ease her conscience to hear the crew had survived. "How many did you save?"
Hsieh's lip curled disdainfully, whether at the witch's concern or the memory of the human dregs his crew had dragged from the sea, Ruha did not know.
"We save ten men," the mandarin reported. "But ton- rongs do not treat them well."
"Tonrongs?" Ruha asked.
"Sharks," Fowler explained. "The lions of the sea, 'cept they eat anything, and they're always hungry."
Hsieh nodded. "Yes. Tonrongs take limbs from four of your men, and they soon die."
Ruha felt a guilty emptiness in her stomach. Unless they found more survivors, three-quarters of the Storm
Sprite's crew would perish. She let a weary groan slip
from her lips, which caused the physician to jerk his
bloody finger out other wound.
"So sorry. Lady! Did not mean to cause pain."
Fowler regarded Ruha with renewed concern, then
turned to the physician. "She going to die before we reach
port?"
The physician's shaved scalp turned an angry orange.
"Not die at all! I treat Emperor once!" He tried to slip a finger under Ruha's tourniquet and barely succeeded, then nodded his head approvingly. "Not even lose leg-
maybe."
Ruha mewled, then clamped her jaw shut to keep from showing any more fear. Despite her efforts, her lips began to tremble and beads of cold sweat rolled down her
brow.
Hsieh spoke harshly to the old man, who paled and stooped even closer to his work.
"I tell physician if you lose leg, he lose leg. But if he fail anyway, I give you leg's weight in gold." The generous offer drew an astonished gasp from Fowler, but the man- darin was not finished. "Also, Emperor's treasury pays for loss of ship, and more, when we reach Ilipur."
Deciding it would be wiser to let Hsieh draw his own conclusions about who owned the Storm Sprite, Ruha said, "My business is in Pros, Minister Hsieh. I under- stand it is on the way. Perhaps you would put us ashore there?"
A look of chagrin flashed across the mandarin's face.
"All our gold vanish with dragon. Nothing left on Ginger
Lady but spice and ylang blossom."
"Nevertheless, I prefer-"
"Lady Witch, Ilipur's but a short distance up the shore." Fowler narrowed his eyes, trying to fill his glower with subtle menace. "It'll take only a few days extra."
Ruha returned Fowler's glare with a disdainful glance.
"And what of the people I am to meet in Pros? How long will they wait?" She looked back to Hsieh. "Put us ashore in Pros, and I will ask only one reward of you."
Hsieh glanced at her sodden aba, no doubt reevaluat- ing his first impression of her wealth. Only a woman of great resources would decline the reward he had promised.
The mandarin inclined his head. "If it is in my power, I
give you whatever you ask."
"Please tell me about the dragon. Why did it attack your ship?"
"That's our reward?" Fowler bellowed.
Hsieh's glance darted from Fowler to his crewmen.
Two men quickly flanked the captain, their heads rising barely as high as the half-ore's brawny shoulders.
"Aboard Ginger Lady, even captain respect Lady."
Hsieh warned.
Fowler's eyes flashed at the admonishment, but he stood very still and made no further protests.
Hsieh turned back to Ruha, arching his fine eyebrows.