She headed around the partition to where she’d given him a spare bedroll. It was empty. Beside it lay the rumpled uniform and no sign of the man who had worn it.
Tucked within the uniform, she discovered the same jade figurine. It was warm in her hands.
He’s a statue again. It’s true. It’s really true. I’m not insane. I didn’t dream up the perfect fantasy man.
Mulan traced her thumb over the intricate detailing of the face, caressing etched scales and the creature’s mane. Its expression appeared softer than she remembered, almost at peace, when before it had been…
Sad.
“I don’t know how to help you, but I’ll do my best.”
Mulan only trusted one person with so great a secret, and that sorcerer was currently undergoing medical treatment himself. If luck was with her, he would be released shortly. If not, she would have to engineer an escape for the sorcerer.
As she made her way through the camp, several of the men glanced at her with interest. A few spoke together in hushed voices.
It wasn’t unusual for men to find comfort and sexual release with one another, especially in an army camp. The practice wasn’t taboo, as she’d heard it was in other kingdoms. In fact, she’d been propositioned on several occasions. She’d turned them down for obvious reasons, needing to protect her identity, but it had been more than that as well. She hadn’t felt drawn to any of them.
Certainly not enough to risk her identity or the safety of her family.
Mulan crossed the encampment to the medical tents, where she found out Wen had already been released from care with a jar of burn salve.
It didn’t take much longer than that to find the sorcerer bivouacked with the rest of his squad in their temporary lodgings. Their close-knit group of her best, smallest, fiercest, and bravest tended to stick together. In their downtime, the men of her preferred detachment played dice or cards with the Samaharan deck Bao brought back from a childhood visit to the desert kingdom. He frequently spoke about traveling into Ankirith with his merchant father.
A loud chorus of greetings welcomed her, joined by invitations to sit at their table.
“I really can’t.”
“You so sure you can’t spare a few to join us, Captain?” Xiaoming pleaded, shuffling the deck with a few dexterous hand movements.
“Not this time. I’m afraid I need to steal Wen from you for a moment.”
A soft mumble of good-natured complaints came despite the generous pile of coins and paper in front of Wen. He must have robbed them blind over the course of many games.
Lam contorted his face into an exaggerated frown. “How can we earn our money back if you take him now before his winning streak ends?”
“In that case, you should be doubly thankful that I’m removing him from your game before he bankrupts you.”
Bao didn’t make eye contact with her.
Another issue for another time. She ushered Wen away and hesitated to speak even after they were out of earshot. He studied her with apprehension on his face.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“Far from it. I need you because I trust you,” Mulan said. A sweep of one arm pushed aside the tent flap. She urged him inside then followed into privacy. “You must swear on your life that you will not share what I tell you with anyone.”
Wen’s brows raised and he tugged on his thin beard. “Captain Mu, you’re scaring me a little.”
“Swear on your life and the honor of your family that you will speak nothing of this,” she insisted.
“Fine, I swear it. Now, what has you wound so tight?”
She pulled the statuette from the pouch at her waist. “Last night this turned into a man.”
“A man.”
“Yes.”
“Mu…” He scratched his nape. “How hard did you celebrate last night?”
“I didn’t,” she snapped. “I was stone-cold sober all night. It turned into a man, and he spoke to me. He barely remembered more than his name, but then he cast a spell.” At that, Wen’s eyes grew large.
“A spell,” he repeated. “Describe this spell.”
“He cast a spell of green fire. He summoned the green flames of Yüying right into his open palm. And he heated a tub full of water somehow, too.”
Wen took the jade dragon and turned it over in his hands, his lips set in a thin, hard line. “Are you certain of what you saw? Green flames?”
“Yes. I was as close to him as you and I are now. Why? What does it mean?”
“Because only those of royal blood, those with the gift of the dragon, can cast such magic. What name did he give you?”
“Cheng.”
The color drained from Wen’s face. He rocked back on his heels as if she’d struck him, eyes so wide it terrified her. “Wen, what is it? Tell me what this means.”
“This means that if he told you the truth…if all is exactly as you say, this dragon statuette holds the soul of a ruler lost many centuries ago—Emperor Cheng the Munificent, son of Li-Song and Kazan.”
Alarm spiked through her. A dozen questions fought for dominance, but only one came to the tip of her tongue. “How can you be so sure?”
“I’m not. But give me a few hours and some time to research what I can about the Imperial Family. We will meet again after sunset.”
7
Wen arrived an hour before sunset and struck the small gong outside of her tent. He carried an armload of books and scrolls. “I came as quickly as I could, Captain.”
“So I see. Come in.” She held open the flap and gestured him through.
Once they were inside, she secured the heavy canvas to shut out the camp noise. Wen made himself at home and spread his books across her table, then snapped his fingers to conjure additional light.
“Where do we begin?” she asked, uncertain how to help. It was often said that their gods touched every child with the gift of magic, but a grasp of sorcery had always been beyond her abilities. Give her a sword and an enemy and she knew exactly what to do, but the arcane arts were a mystery.
“We must recreate the circumstances of the previous night. Perhaps you did something, however unintentional, that allowed him to take human form. Where was he?”
“On my altar. Whenever I return from battle, I first place him—it—” She stumbled over her words, then continued, “I place the statue there and thank Yüying for watching over me.”
“And when he changed? What did it look like?”
“I do not know. I was outside my tent, checking in with the men to ensure they were enjoying the well-deserved respite.”
“Without drinking.”
“Yes, without drinking,” she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest. “When I returned, he was simply here.”
“Hrm.” He turned through the pages of one book, only to set it aside and grab another. “Only a few would be powerful enough to trap a mortal soul in such a vessel.”
“There’s no vessel. His entire body became the dragon.”
Wen stroked his bearded chin. “Even greater a gift to transmute one creature into an object. But to what purpose?”
Sensing he wasn’t asking for an answer, Mulan remained quiet, studying the jade dragon in silence. If not for the clothes, she might have passed it off as a dream. Now she potentially held a royal in her hands. An emperor.