The next day was already upon the three women when they stumbled out of the Screaming Goat, so their trip to Zu was delayed until the afternoon, after Yaling had completed her requisite beauty sleep and Lian had dipped into the cash reserves she swore she didn’t have to buy each of them a late lunch.
Zu’s estate was palatial, at least three dozen rooms on three floors, with a courtyard fifty yards by fifty yards landscaped to perfection: a fountain and waterfall pouring into a pool filled with gold and blue fish – each one bigger than a human head and with voracious appetites. Nestled in the fashionable Freehold district of Liangyong next to the Ancient Castle, it was almost indistinguishable from the dozens of other estates in that slightly terraced piece of the city. Almost.
The instant Lian walked past the gate, she knew she was in a home fundamentally different than any other in the city. But it wasn’t the threat of a professional gangster’s violence that differentiated it – all the houses, whether owned by nobles, merchants, or successful bureaucrats, had ample armed guards to keep out riffraff and thieves – it was the relaxed nature of that threat. Zu had bodyguards every twenty feet, but they barely paid attention to the three women as they explained their business and walked in. One or two gave Lian an appreciative look as a Shuli Go, but even with her two swords she wasn’t really considered a threat. Not that she couldn’t kill a few of them, but they were so numerous and so well trained – and paid – that her eventual defeat would be certain. But not her death. Unlike the other palaces that reached three stories high, Zu’s also reportedly reached three stories below the ground, at the bottom of which was a torture chamber so overstocked, so over soundproofed, and so zealously overstaffed that death was not what assassins or thieves feared, it was continued life. Lian had heard Zu had kept one man alive for two whole months, although to call him anything resembling a human after the first two weeks was to denigrate the poorest conditions of human existence.
Despite An being the invited guest, Yaling naturally took the lead, her intricately woven dress dragging two inches of material along the ground behind her, the eyes of every mercenary, servant girl, and visiting noble on her as she led their group to Zu’s office on the second floor of the estate. The doors were shut and a beautiful woman who introduced herself as Zu’s assistant politely asked them to wait until Zu was finished his other business. The trio were directed to a set of reclined chairs, where servants brought them fruit tea and sweets.
“This is the life we could have if this pans out,” An dreamed, relaxing and stretching out on the chair.
“My island would have servants with fewer clothes,” Yaling said, tilting her eyebrows suggestively at one of the serving girls and eliciting an excited giggle. “Those slave islands are so far north, it’d be too hot for clothes.”
Lian shook her head. “And who would admire your performance? Or would you perform any more? You wouldn’t need to…”
“And deprive the world of my talent? No no, I’d still perform. Except instead of travelling all over the world to find my audiences, they would come from all over the world to see me. Me in my custom built auditorium. Stone risers, well designed acoustics. The way I’m meant to be heard…” Yaling drifted off into her perfectly formed future.
“Forever and ever, right?” Lian asked, keeping the jest in her voice despite the serious implication in her mind.
“Well, I imagine I’d outlive the risers and the audiences. When the Gods come back though, they’ll be very happy to see someone as gifted as myself ready to perform for them.”
Lian and An both snorted derisively. “I doubt even someone as conceded as you could keep from going crazy with immortality,” Lian sighed. Yaling paid no attention and sipped her tea, daydreaming.
When the doors to Zu’s office opened again, a large fat man walked out with an army of attendants behind him. Zu smiled as the man left, then motioned for the women to enter his office. It was arranged like the rest of his home, immaculate and intimidating. He stood behind his desk, raised above the floor by nearly a foot, the window behind him overlooking the courtyard. He clapped his hands together and addressed them all as they walked in: “Well then, to what do I owe the honor of a visit from three of the Empire’s most precious women?”
An stood closest to him and performed the ceremonial bow, then moved to introduce the women who stood behind her. “Mr. Zu, I have brought two dear friends—”
“Yes, I would recognize the beauty of Tan Yaling from as far as her voice could carry,” he smiled, his eyes flitting with the border between respectful and lascivious as they met Yaling’s. “And Zhao Lian, the Shuli Go with two swords and Wamaian riches at her fingertips. I hope you are aware your reputations do precede you these days?” Yaling smiled boastfully at the thought, Lian cringed; her job was easier if no one knew who she was.
“I am glad you approve,” An continued, “because I will need their help to complete the contract you’ve given.” Here An paused until Zu’s eyes gradually made their way back to her. “I have found it.”
Zu was not an impressive man in many respects, but he was expressive. In his late forties or early fifties, the suffering and violence of his early years as a street criminal had been buffeted by the success and riches of his later ones. The result being that his face carried its newfound fat awkwardly, always hinting at the scavenger who had prowled the streets of Liangyong picking pockets and defending his earnings with rusty blades. Dressed in the flowing, utterly impractical red and black robes of a noble, he moved with the deliberation of the wealthy and reasonable. High cheekbones and scar-riddled eyebrows naturally hung close together but split apart at the mention of the Book of Dragons, allowing his younger side to pry itself into the open. “Is that so?” He asked, leaning on his desk.
An smiled, keeping her eyes on his, “Yes. The reports were true. I have seen four of them myself. Each one drained of blood and movement, yet still alive. Paler than the moon and eyes as hollow as empty graves. What you assumed was correct.”
“He is concocting the spirit of eternal life…” Zu nodded sagely, as if the rest of them were privy to the conversation he and An were continuing.
“Who?” Lian asked, not caring if she was interrupting.
Zu was broken from his reverie and glanced disapprovingly at Lian. “Prefect Tai,” he said flatly.
Lian had heard only vague mention of the man before, but Yaling was much more up on her local gossip. “You mean the Prefect of Liangyong prefecture? Tai, one of the richest men in the Central Empire?”
Zu’s nod was weary but still tinged with excitement. “That’s right. Just as I thought. If anyone would have it, it would be him.”
“Nobody has it,” Lian interjected, a douse of cold water that succeeded in returning the scowl to Zu’s face. “Because it doesn’t exist,” Lian continued. “The Book of Dragons is a myth.”
“A skeptic,” Zu spat and shook his head, leaning forward over his desk and towering over the women on the floor.
“All my friend Zhao is saying,” An interjected, “is she’d appreciate the information you shared with me last week. I’m sure that would convince her, just like it did me.”
Zu stared at Lian long and hard and Lian stared back. They held their stare long enough for An to grow nervous and for Yaling to consider using her charms to defuse the tension. Eventually though Zu just smiled and said, “Of course. Anything for the virtuous Shuli Go.”
Zu nodded at a large bodyguard in the corner of the room, who turned to a small locked chest on the floor which he opened, pulling out a small tray covered with a thick red drape of silk. The bodyguard approached the desk and placed the box on it. Zu’s hands hovered over the silk for a moment as he looked at the three women, his mischievous, younger smile returning to his face. “You are three very lucky women, to see what I’m about to show you.”
He pulled the drape up to reveal a single sheaf of paper. The women had to crane their necks up to see it, but even then they couldn’t make much more than the edge of it, thick and yellowed with age.
“A piece of paper?” Lian scoffed.
“Not just any paper. A piece from the Book of Dragons itself.”
“And how do you know that?”
Zu’s smile deepened and he recited part of an old poem:
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Dragons’ bones turn to diamond,
Dragons’ tongues burn to sapphire,
And dragons’ hearts rot to jade.
“You’re saying you have the page of the Book of Dragons that just happens to have the poem every child learns by the time they’re six?” Lian scoffed. “Wouldn’t that be more than a little convenient?”
Zu’s eyebrows lifted again and his eyes lit up with delight. Then he read right from the page.
But dragons’ souls last forever,
Dragons’ minds burn eternal,
Dragons’ books belong in heaven.
He then tilted the page down so the women could see it. All three peered up and looked at the page, its characters written in gold, the poem just above an image, which was also burned into the paper in a thin, delicate ink made of gold. The image was of a dragon, and the last three lines had never been part of the childhood poem.
“Not just any page. The cover page,” Zu’s smile reached completion, his giddiness evident, as though he was about to start stabbing and stealing all over again. Which, in a sense, he was.
Yaling’s breath escaped her, and An beamed at the sight of the paper again, but Lian was still unconvinced.
“That’s a pretty good forgery, but it doesn’t change a thing,” she said.
“It’s not a forgery,” Zu insisted. “Do you know Master Wuching with the Encyclopaedia Institution?”
Lian did know him – had actually met him when he was a much younger man. There wasn’t a better or more rigorous scholar in the study of books anywhere in the Central Empire. “You’re saying Master Wuching confirmed its authenticity?”
Zu’s grin reached a new level of giddiness, and he actually laughed aloud, a thin crackle that snapped the air apart.
“Apparently,” Zu started, “this page has come from something as close to a real Book of Dragons as anything ever could be in this world.”
The comment made Lian pause. If Zu had said Wuching had confirmed it was real, she would have laughed. Wuching would never say such a thing, because he knew, as well as Lian did, that the Book of Dragons was mythical. But perhaps there had been a real book that had given rise to the myths. Lian had heard of stranger things in her time. Had seen them up close.
“Furthermore,” Zu continued, laying out his evidence, “when Master Wuching and a Madame Fay in the Institution’s magic department looked this page over, they confirmed it had been protected by a potent mix of magic, which she said she’d never seen before. Whatever it is, someone thought it important enough to protect with magic that called for nothing less than human blood and organs.”
“You’re saying it’s protected by blood magic?” Lian asked.
“That’s right—” Zu started, before Lian interrupted him by removing her longsword, taking three steps, jumping onto his dais, and slashing at the page with her sword.
The room erupted into a flurry as Zu recoiled to avoid the sword, a dozen bodyguards appeared and rushed towards Lian, while An turned to face them with her daggers drawn. There was a split second of absolute pause as everyone assessed the situation before beginning a fight to Lian’s inevitable death by torture, in which moment Lian eased the tension.
“Well fuck me.”
Zu laughed as Lian lifted her sword to reveal the paper, looking exactly as before. The tray it had sat on had been completely demolished, and a slice had been taken out of Zu’s desk, but the paper was impervious to steel.
“A true skeptic,” Zu chuckled as he waved his bodyguards away, each of them looking at Lian and An with something more like the respect Lian usually expected.
Lian stepped off of the platform and rejoined her friends, putting her sword back in its sheath on her back. She was searching her mind for the kinds of magic that would protect a piece of paper from steel – there weren’t many, and none of them were cheap. Lian knew most of the spells people attributed to the Book of Dragons were not real, but whatever book the page had come from had been valuable enough to write in gold and protect with magic that had been illegal for over a thousand years.
“Sorry,” she muttered, though she was not still convinced.
“Perhaps,” An cut in again, “you could tell the sceptic among us,” her voice seethed at Lian, “about the other information that you shared with me.”
Zu picked up the page and swept the debris of the tray from his desk before setting the page down carefully back on the desk. “Of course. You must understand Madame Zhao, I too was sceptical. I purchased this sheet five years ago. I assumed I was being scammed, but it was beautiful and I have a soft spot for beautiful things,” a glance at Yaling, as was customary among men who discussed beauty in her presence – she didn’t even blush or seem to notice.
“Then the storeroom it was in burned to the ground,” he continued, “but the page remained untouched. That was when I took it to the Encyclopaedia Institution. After that I began to keep an eye for other pages, or even the rest of the book. Just on the off chance it turned out to be what it claimed to be. I also had my men keep their ears and eyes open for rumors. And in the last few months rumors have been flying.”
“That’s when he contacted me,” An said. “To listen to the rumors and then see if they had any truth.”
“…And I assume you found truth,” Yaling filled in.
An just nodded, and Zu resumed his explanation. “Rumors often start with a germ of truth – whether they grow into disease or food depends on the care taken in their sharing. Madam Chen here is one of the few I trust to taste my rumors for me. She has quite the palette.”
“What kind of rumors?” Lian asked.
“All sorts, and too numerous to keep track of. With rumors its best to cross-reference them. Rumor had it Prefect Tai had purchased a ten-thousand year old relic from the Slave Islands. Another that he and the Duke of Wu had found a different artefact during the latest war with the Eastern Countries, and Prefect Tai’s possession of it explained how Wu had met his death on the return journey. Finally there were the rumors of Tai’s former servants showing up in hospitals, comatose or worse. Which sounded a lot like he’d been capturing the fabled requirements for eternal youth.”
“So you were sure it was him who had the book?” Lian tried to keep the doubt in her voice, but had to admit it was faltering.
“No, of course not. There were dozens of other rumors too, all of them sounded convincing in their own way. So I took the expense of arranging a Conjoining.”
Finally Lian’s doubt broke. Conjoining was probably the most expensive type of magic imaginable. Essentially it could create a link between any two things which had once been one thing: a branch from a tree, a child and its mother, or even a father if enough energy was invested. Connecting a page to a book would not have been the most difficult form of the magic she’d heard of, but it would have been costly. Conjoining required the melting of gold, the breaking of expensive stones, and their disposal into a large body of water, forever irretrievable, amongst many other, simpler sacrifices. Even for a man of Zu’s means, it would have been a sizable investment. Whatever the specifics of the rumors, he must have believed enough of them to spend a small fortune building a Conjoinment between the paper and its origin.
“And the Spectral Compass, what did you do with it?” Lian asked. The Compass was what made the link visible to humans, usually by inserting a small sliver of the object on the magnetic end of the compass. It was crude, but it could eventually lead someone directly to the missing connection. This required an even larger investment – only diamonds would pry off a piece of the magically-infused paper.
“I found four connections in the city. Which led me to believe not only that one of them was the book itself, but that others may have pages and may have heard the same rumors I had. One of the four was Prefect Tai, but that didn’t mean his lead was the correct one.”
An then completed the story. “Once he’d picked out the four locations, he had me and three others focus on the rumors around them. If we could confirm the specifics, it would point to the location of the book. It turns out mine was correct.”
“You have seen them then?” Zu’s voice was filling with excitement, a sense that, despite everything, Lian couldn’t help but feel herself. “Men and women whose bodies have been drained of nutrients and blood? Just like the stories say.”
“I have,” An, never one to get too excited, responded with care. “Three men and one woman. One I managed to save right before the hospital was going to kill him. I had him stretchered to an inn where I examined him thoroughly. All the signs are there. His breathing is so shallow and slow it almost seems as if he’s not breathing at all. He blinks once every five minutes, and each time it takes nearly ten seconds for his eyelids to open and close. I consulted with the doctors at the hospital and brought in two more – none of them had any idea what could cause a condition like that. They all suspected magic, but nothing they’d ever seen before.”
“Well to be sure you should have him brought here. I’ll bring in the best doctor in the city to confirm,” Zu instructed. An bowed slightly in approval.
“If he just needs their blood, why does he let them go afterward?” Yaling asked. “Why not just kill them and take the last little bit?”
“The spell acts by Conjoining the blood with a living host,” Lian explained, aghast at herself for not qualifying the statement with an “allegedly” or any other remark.
“Then why let them go? Why not keep them comatose in his home? If the hospitals are killing them, the men’s blood wouldn’t be any good.”
“That,” Zu admitted, “is the one thing I don’t know. It could be the spell doesn’t work exactly as the legend says. Or maybe he’s performing another, similar spell first. The Book of Dragons was filled with blood magic. It’s from a time when demi-gods were plentiful in the Central Empire. Perhaps blood magic wasn’t quite so terrifying back then.”
Lian was not particularly fond of “perhaps” and “maybe” littered across investigations she undertook, but the prospect of the Book of Dragons, or even the closest non-mythical equivalent, was powerful enough that she was willing to overlook them. She turned to face her friends, who each gave the silent look of affirmation, and Lian, by virtue of her earlier disbelief, spoke on behalf of them all. “We’ll get it.”
Zu smiled, his face settled into the fat of an older gentleman who was used to others doing the dirty work. “Good. My offer still stands. 50-50. However you split your half amongst you three is up to you.”
Yaling stood up and bowed to Zu, “My pay will be the spell of immortal youth. With that I’ll have more than enough to last until the end of days.”
“I’ll take the money, if it’s all the same to everyone else,” An chuckled. “That island has my name on it.”
The women all bowed towards Zu and he nodded gratefully back to them. “Bring it here as soon as you get it.”
They left then, but Lian stopped in the doorway to his office, turned to face him, and left a parting apology. “Sorry about the table. I’ll pay you back.”
“Madam Zhao,” Zu swept his robe up in his arms as he sat down behind the desk, his servants already bringing the next piece of business, “if you are successful, you can have the desk and the house it’s in. I’ll be buying much nicer accommodations.”
Lian paused, something about the honesty dripping from Zu’s voice unsettling her. Still she set the thought aside: there may actually be enough gold in the reward to warrant Zu’s optimism.