We continued on through a pair of gates into a broad tunnel. Flux-powered lamps glimmered to life as we passed. At the next intersection, the tunnel dipped below the level of the city streets, then climbed upward along with the mountainside in long winding loops. Pretty soon, I’d lost all sense of where we could be beneath the city. It was an endless passageway, brick walls gleaming with frost and melted snow. Our only illumination was the soft circle of lamplight which rose and faded as we passed each sconce. A mist flowed over the stones beneath us, stirred into eddies and waves by the horses, then streamed along the side of the wagon.
Quan had let his hand trail the mist. Suddenly, he jerked his hand back. His eyes were wide.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“Magic flux,” he whispered back. “Stronger than I’ve ever encountered.”
I touched my fingertips to the mist, felt a humming through my veins. Yao-guài wriggled free of my coat and lapped at the magic flux, making happy chuckling noises in his throat. Fascinated, I watched as his claws shone like silver daggers, his feathers brightened to a burnished gold. His stone-black eyes reminded me of an onyx necklace I’d once seen.
Something nipped at my fingers.
I yanked my hand back with a yelp.
A ghost dragon darted between the wagon wheels and slithered up the side of the wagon. For a moment we were face to face as it stared at me with translucent gray eyes. Hurry, it whispered, then dived back into the mist to fade away.
My blood hummed louder. I sucked on my fingers, hoping the legends about their poisonous bites were not true. “Danzu?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“Ghost dragons. Are those normal?”
No answer, but he urged his team to a faster pace. The horses were willing beasts; they bent into their harness and hauled us up a series of loops. At the next intersection, they veered to the left, bringing us into a wide underground courtyard. There they halted and dropped their heads.
Lamps in glass cages lined the walls. Ahead, a massive iron gate, guarded by two men and a younger woman. All three wore gray uniforms with the royal insignia of a screaming dragon. The two men wore a row of tiny jewels above their patches. The woman’s uniform had an extra row that signified a captain.
“I thought you said junior guards,” I whispered to Jing-mei.
“Someone talked,” she whispered back.
Or someone had guessed about the peculiar arrangements made by the stable watch’s junior officers. Quickly, I glanced around to find Yao-guài. The griffin had burrowed underneath the blankets, with only an inch of his tail in sight. I pinched the tip, and it vanished.
Danzu hopped down from the wagon and approached the guards. The captain stepped forward and gestured for him to stop. I bent down to check the knife in my boot. Quan touched my arm and shook his head. Not yet.
The captain didn’t give an alarm, but her face was like stone. She leaned forward and started talking to Danzu. Her voice was too soft for me to hear, but I could guess from the way Danzu glanced over his shoulder at Jing-mei. The captain kept talking. Danzu must have said something she didn’t like, because the woman scowled and tapped his chest, then pointed at the other two guards.
Danzu trudged back to the wagon. He looked unhappy. “The captain wants a share of our delivery.”
Jing-mei bit her lips. “How much?”
“Ten percent.”
“Ten—” Jing-mei choked. “Anything else?”
“We’re supposed to unload everything. Here. She gets to pick. If she likes what we have, she lets us inside and doesn’t report us to the king’s guards and the Guild Council.”
“But that’s—”
“I know—”
“Didn’t you tell her—”
“She didn’t care—”
“Let her,” Quan said quietly.
Both of them rounded on him. “Are you mad?” Jing-mei said.
“We have no choice,” Quan said. “We must get into the palace tonight. Besides, if we refuse, she’ll have us arrested. And if that happens, and the wrong people find out, it might be days or weeks before Lian can convince anyone of her identity.”