ShaoShu nodded. “I am very sorry, sir. I understand if you want to kill me. You wouldn't be the first person to feel that way.”

“Kill you?” Tonglong said with a laugh. “I'm going to hire you!” He turned to Lei. “Find an empty bunk for ShaoShu and make sure he gets a decent dinner tonight, as well as breakfast tomorrow. The two of you are to meet me on deck at sunrise. We should be in port by then. I have something special I want the two of you to help me with.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Lei replied.

ShaoShu didn't like the look on Tonglong's face. He swallowed hard, and the mouse in his pouch began to squirm again.

ShaoShu cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, but what if I can't do the job for you? I'm just a kid, you know.”

Tonglong's face grew suddenly serious, and ShaoShu felt the Mantis's black eyes drill deep into his heart.

“Then I will kill you, kid.”

CHAPTER 4

The sun was low in the sky by the time Charles dropped anchor in the Qiantang River. He saw no other boats nearby and no sign of Tonglong's men, but he was not about to take any chances. He was going to bring along his guns.

Charles opened his sea chest and removed a heavy sailcloth bag that had been coated with a thick layer of beeswax. He pulled his matching pistols from the folds of his Chinese-style robe, placed the pistols and his spyglass carefully into the waxed sailcloth bag, and lashed the bag closed with a length of sturdy rope.

He handed Hok a second waxed bag to protect her herb bag and tied his own bag across his back. “Let's go,” Charles said.

Ying nodded and dove into the river first. Hok followed close behind, her bag slung over her shoulders. Malao let out a squeal and leaped into the water from high atop the mast, and Fu flopped over the side with a tremendous splash.

Charles scanned the shore, saw nothing, and plunged into the river. The water was cold enough to make him catch his breath. He made it to shore after a few dozen powerful strokes and, once on the bank, regretted not having packed some dry clothes in the waterproof bag. Until they had time to build a fire and dry out a bit, they would be miserable in this chilly autumn air.

Charles stopped to untie the sailcloth bag from his back and saw Ying already walking up the creek, keeping to the dense cover on one side. Ying had obviously done this type of thing before. He motioned for Charles to hurry.

Charles did not normally take direction from someone nearly his own age, but he decided to let Ying run this mission for now. After all, it was Ying's mother they were trying to save. That morning, Tonglong had triggered an avalanche inside a cave beyond his mother's house, and she was still trapped inside.

Charles removed the items from the waxed bag and retied it across his back, slipping the spyglass and one pistol into the folds of his robe. With his second pistol in hand, he silently hurried after Ying and the others. In no time, they reached a cluster of low trees near a bend in the creek, where Ying brought them to a halt. They ducked behind the foliage.

As Ying stared around the bend, Charles glanced at the towering hillsides that seemed to have sprung up from nowhere. By the river, the land was flat. Here, there was nothing but steep tree-covered slopes and rocky outcroppings. Ying moved to one side, and Charles fixed his gaze beyond him. He saw a small brick ruin that must have been Ying's mother's house.

Charles pulled the spyglass from his robe and focused it on the smoldering structure. He saw tendrils of black smoke drifting from gaping holes in a green tile roof, and ornate stone dragons at each of the roof's four corners that had cracked and crumbled from intense heat. The front door was missing, and all the wooden window lattices and shutters had been burned away.

“There's been a fire,” Charles said, lowering the spyglass.

“I see that,” Ying replied. “What do you think, Pussy cat? Is it empty?”

Fu's eyes narrowed, and he turned one ear in the direction of the house. After a moment, he said, “I don't see or hear anything.”

Ying nodded. “I thought I sensed something, but maybe it's just my anger giving me confused signals. The house was not like this when I left. Someone has burned it since.” He spat.

“What should we do?” Malao asked in a nervous tone. “Maybe it was soldiers.”

“It probably was,” Ying replied. “I doubt anyone is here now, though. I don't think this is a trap. If it was, they wouldn't have burned everything. They would have left the house intact to draw me in. I'm going in, regardless. We're going to need light to see inside the cave, and I'm going to try making some torches. You can all wait here.”

Ying stood suddenly and strode out into the open, heading straight for the house at a brisk pace.




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