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Chapter Twenty One

An Hourglass Runs

He was a young man, not yet thirty, and in the prime of his life. A tax collector in the Empire, he was used to the good things in life, and it showed. His cheeks were plump and powdered and his carefully coiffured hair held its shape as he paid his attention to his two dinner companions. Twin girls, delicate and giggling, young, just like he liked them. He smiled at them, and they tittered flirtatiously, blushing as one of servers entered the room with their meals. A lass on each side, the man tucked in with vigor. His day was going well, especially with the attention of two lovely ladies eager for his approval. What more could he ask for?

Midway through the meal, his grip on his utensils became not so good, and he felt the need, suddenly, to go lie down. But his duty as a host constrained him and he stay and laughed and chatted until he finally fell heavily against the table, his head falling to rest upon it. His tongue was swollen in his mouth, and his face had gone pale and grey, as if all the life had been sucked out of it. And, indeed, it had.

Then the screaming started, but the tax collector did not hear it.

"Another dozen reported dead today, majesty," the page boy told him, wide brown eyes fixed on the emperor's face. He was a little young for messenger duty, but he had, for some reason, developed a near puppy-like case of hero worship toward the emperor. That was annoying in its own, but it made for a change at least, for the boy had no fear for him whatsoever. "All merchant class, milord." The child waited patiently for his reply where he stood on the steps of Fou-Lu's throne room.

A dozen…these deaths be increasing, and yet the killers evadeth all attempt. And there hath passed a sennight since they commenced, even. "And of the poisoners? What be of them?" the God-Emperor asked, hoping wearily for a reprieve.

The boy shook his head, the movement making his tightly pinned topknot bob in place. "Sorry milord, but they're too quick. They kill 'em and get away before they die and there isn't any trace at all." The child looked a bit distressed he had no better news to offer his idol, and bit at his lower lip as he delivered the information.

"I ken this," he said, quite tired with the whole business. It showed in his eyes, and in the slight slump of his proud shoulders. The humans had poor enough senses that he doubted they had noticed as they continued to bring them their problems. "Thou mayest quit this place,"

"Thank you, milord," the boy said, offering a bow and scurrying off, leaving Fou-Lu to his thoughts and his exhaustion. Things were not going well for the dragon, and he was drawn too thin, trying to deal with crisis after crisis. There was little alternative, for who could he delegate such problems to? For the time being, he would have to manage.

His list of problems was long and stressful. His wife remained missing from his side, pregnant, and both Won-Qu and A-Tun had left to aid in the search. Captain Ursula reported no progress in her search and was currently attempting to sail to the Windian coastline, a journey of nearly a month's time. The Ludians had refused to consider peace and attacked all Imperials in Alliance territory, including the ones carrying messages of peace to the other nations in the Alliance. His own people had been eager to resume the war, due to the generations of previous warriors who had fallen to the alliance, and it was all the God-Emperor could do to keep them on a leash. And, of course, results of the war remained and demanded repair. Had he the time, Fou-Lu would have gone personally to repair the Causeway he had built so long ago, but he was effectively pinned at the palace by other duties and responsibilities. And now, the poisonings had begun.

They had started out a minor official here and there, alarming none but the friends and families of the departed. But the deaths increased in number, and the merchant class was falling like flies. Most fell dead during their daily routine; others never woke from their nightly rest. So far, no one higher than a minor official had been affected, but the remaining minor officials had fled or barricaded themselves in their homes. The tax collectors did not do their duty, the merchants did not sell, and this had its affect on the economy. It had only been a week…but people were afraid. They were afraid and suspicious and when rumors of Ludians as the responsible party began, they spread like wildfire.

The miles skimmed by under the sandflier, but the hours seemed to linger on. Darnik started out at the stretch of empty sand, bored out of his mind. Apart from the occasional shrub bush and patches of cacti, there was only sand and enough empty space to drive him mad. After the first couple days, the scenery had lost whatever charm it started with. They'd been in this miserable place for the past nine days, and the windian was fairly certain he had sand in every accessible crevice by now. Maybe if he was allowed to drive, it might be more fun, but as it was…

He was jolted out of his thoughts when his point of view did nearly a ninety-degree turn and he slid down the deck. "YAHLA!!!" Looking back behind them as he clung to the side of the vehicle, he saw the hill that she'd just gone over and turned back to glare at the grinning dragon.

She smiled sweetly at him, baring her sharp teeth. She was about a month along, from what she'd told him, and it was beginning to show in the roundness of her middle. "Thou didst appear bored. Wert thou?"

"No, I was enthralled in counting sand grains again," he retorted sarcastically, rubbing his hands together gather some heat. Yahla had informed him they would be travelling by night to avoid the searing sun and he had agreed. He'd had no idea that it would be cold in the night! Alternatively baking in the day and freezing in the night, this trip was quickly loosing its charm. "You should try it. It really livens up a party. While you do that, why don't you let me take that wheel for a while."

"Returneth to thy counting, Darnik," she ordered, continuing to drive like a bat out of hell as he sighed mournfully.

Such a long time to cross the desert, and nothing to do at all…

"Majesty, we can't simply stand for this," the advisor exclaimed noisily, growing agitated at the emperor's noncommittal responses. The old man, Counselor Jiaoyo, was one of the throne's traditional advisors, and had an overrated image of his own self-importance. As it was, half the time Fou-Lu could barely stand to be in his presence without strangling him "The Ludians will weaken us until we are vulnerable and strike then! Those savages would stoop to far worse than poison to win this war! We must strike first, wipe them out before they can continue their poisonings and their plotting!"

The poisonings, indeed. They had worsened, grown alongside rumor and panic. The army had been struck, good officers and men falling left and right from no enemy they could combat. The nobles, too, had been made a target, much to the dismay and panic of those in question. They were used to their money and power buying them safety, but it had failed them, for once. Many barred themselves in their homes. Others fled the city, for it was here, it seemed, that the murders were concentrated.

"Enow," the emperor said firmly, rousing himself enough from his thoughts to reply. "We shall not be attacking the Ludians without provocation. An the war returns, alloweth them to be the instigations."

"Majesty!" the advisor protested, wringing his bony hands in distress. "The poisonings…"

"Enow!" he snapped, growing angry at the constant demands upon him. The human shrank back from his glare. "What proof haveth thee? A needless stretch of time was taken by that war. It be no more. Begone, advisor. Thy voice grates upon mine ears." He turned a cold glare on the human, bidding him to leave. The human apparently remembered an urgent appointment elsewhere. He begged forgiveness for such an abrupt departure and bowed and scraped himself out of the room.

Fou-lu sighed. Too much to do, to little time in which to do it. Such was his lot in life.

Muddy spray misted her face and the deck around her as Captain Ursula stood on the deck of one of the few transport ships of the Imperial Navy. The muddy oceans were a sailor's nightmare, but the high tech empire had compensated with a specially designed navy that had allowed them to get a drop on the Alliance throughout the war. Most of them had been destroyed in the war, and while the Causeway had still provided a bridge between the Empire and the Alliance, no one had seen the need to have the navy immediately rebuilt.

Aboard her flagship, Ursula observed the other ship that sailed in their wake. Of the last six ships of the Empire retained, Ursula had taken two to transport her and her task force to their destination. They were making good time, and would be within site of the rocky windian coast within the day. If they were lucky, they wouldn't have to take a day or two sailing up and down the coast trying to find somewhere to come ashore.

"Captain! Land ahead!" one of the sailors called, and Ursula nodded in acknowledgment.

Eager to discharge her duty (and to get this ridiculous search for a mythological creature out the way) Ursula couldn't but think that it was about damn time.