The Emperor's Tomb

“Yours would not be a problem for me.”

“Choose wisely, Minister. Much is at stake.”

The blade rested tight to the skin, an easy matter with one swipe to sever the old man’s throat. He stared at Karl Tang, wishing it was him, not Pau, who faced the sword.

That decision would be an easy one.

And he noticed something in Tang’s eyes.

“He wants you to do it,” Pau whispered.

SEVENTY-NINE

CASSIOPEIA AND VIKTOR ENTERED THE MONASTERY AND FOUND a central courtyard. Everything was quiet except for voices rising from an open set of double doors at the far end. With caution, they advanced in that direction, staying within the colonnades. Once there, Viktor pressed himself to the building’s wall and carefully peered past the doorway.

“Malone is in there,” he whispered.

Together they crept in, staying within a vestibule that led into what appeared to be a grand hall. Cotton stood about halfway toward a raised portion at the opposite end, facing Tang and two brothers, along with Pau Wen. Ni Yong stood behind the older man, holding a sword to Pau’s neck.

They hid behind a thick pillar and watched.

Tang was talking to Cotton, but what was happening above grabbed Cassiopeia’s attention. A man in the first-floor gallery, tucked within one of the arches, held a crossbow. The angle made it impossible for Cotton to see the danger directly above him.

“He doesn’t know,” Viktor whispered.

“Let’s tell him.”

He shook his head. “We need to keep the element of surprise. You take that guy out. I don’t see anyone else up there.”

She could not argue with the plan.

He motioned behind them, to the left. “That way. Cover our backs.”

“What are you going to do?”

He did not answer her, but she didn’t like what she saw in his eyes. “Don’t be foolish,” she said.

“No more than I have already been? Tang will be off guard when he sees me. Let’s use that.”

She wished they had a gun. “Give me your knife.” He surrendered the blade. “It won’t be any good to me.”

“Cotton probably thinks I’m dead.” He nodded. “I’m counting on that.”

MALONE BREATHED IN THE WARM AIR, HEAVY WITH THE SMELL of charcoal. He kept himself fifty feet from where the others stood. The upper galleries were a problem, which was why he hugged the right edge of the hall, from where he could clearly see the left galleries and anyone above him would have to show themselves in order to obtain a clear shot. Ni also could keep a watch.

“I managed to avoid the welcoming committee you sent,” he said to Tang, trying to steal a glimpse above.

“And what of Ms. Vitt?”

“Dead. On your orders.” He made no effort to disguise his bitterness. He also realized Tang surely wanted to know something else, so he said, “Your man Viktor may still be alive, though.”

Tang said nothing.

“Where’s Sokolov?” Malone asked, buying more time. “He’s here,” Ni said. “With his son.”

“And will he get a sample of oil? One that can prove it’s infinite?”

“I see you, too, know what is at stake,” Pau said.

“You wanted me to see that map in your house, didn’t you?”

“If you had not noticed, I would have made sure you did.”

“Were you the one who set Qin Shi’s tomb on fire?” Tang asked.

“That was me. Kept you from killing us.”

“And allowed Minister Ni to slip away,” Tang said.

“That’s not—”

CASSIOPEIA HUSTLED TOWARD THE STAIRS AND CLIMBED THE marble risers to the first-floor gallery. She crouched, keeping herself beneath the balustrade that protected the gallery from the hall beyond, and eased herself to the corner. A quick look confirmed that one man stood about a third of the way down, dressed in a woolen robe, holding a crossbow, his back to her.

Quietly, she shed Viktor’s fleece jacket.

She listened, hearing Cotton’s voice.

Then Tang’s.

And allowed Minister Ni to slip away. That’s not—“Malone.” Viktor’s voice.

Knife in hand, she crept forward.

TANG SAW VIKTOR APPEAR, SEEMINGLY FROM NOWHERE. HE wondered how long he’d been inside the hall. The man should actually be dead, along with Malone and Vitt.

Was anyone else here?

NI SAW THE FOREIGNER, THE SAME MAN WHO’D SAVED HIS LIFE inside Qin Shi’s tomb.

Was he friend or foe?

At the instant he decided foe, and was about to cry out an alarm, the man shouted Malone’s name.

MALONE WHIRLED.

Viktor was rushing toward him, then leaping forward, tackling him to the floor.

Malone lost his grip on the gun, but grabbed Viktor by the throat, raining down blows with his right fist, yelling, “Where is she?”

Viktor broke free, a mad glaze coating his eyes. “She’s far downstream. Gone.”

Malone lunged and slugged away in earnest, enjoying the thud of his fist hitting bone. Viktor retreated.

Lots of room existed for them to maneuver among the arches, the weaponry, and the braziers. He thought one of the swords might come in handy. Viktor seemed to read his mind, his gaze darting to lances displayed beside armor and shields. Viktor rushed forward, grabbing the bamboo hilt of a lance, brandishing its tip, keeping Malone at bay.

His breath came racked and shallow and his light-headedness returned.