"Shhh!" Tycho hissed, kicking him under the table.
Li winced but Tycho flicked his eyes toward the back of the chamber. Ibakha was stepping out from the flap ¦ that led to the back rooms. She saw them and blushed a deep red. Her eyes darted to the floor and stayed there as she rushed out of the tavern. A few moments later, Ong emerged from the back rooms as well. If he was startled or if he saw Li's glower, he hid it well.
"Still here, my friends?" Ong called. He came over and joined them at the table, producing a mug and holding it out for Tycho to fill. "You'll have a hard ride tomorrow if you linger too long, I can guarantee that."
"I've traveled under worse conditions," Tycho said. He tapped the pitcher against Ong's mug in a toast. "To good health and bad beer. Tell me, Ong, how does a Shou come to run a tavern at an oasis haunted by a Tuigan water spirit?"
Ong drank a mouthful of beer, wincing as he swallowed, and explained, "Through a tragic disagreement. Offend the wrong powers in Shou Lung, Tycho, and you can find yourself exiled to-well, to such a place as this." He waved a hand around them. "Still, it's possible to make the best of a bad situation. This is a good oasis. It's safe, the water is good, caravans stop here fairly frequently-"
. "The men leave their women in the care of the oasis spirit when they go raiding," said Tycho, fighting to hold back a grin.
Li just grunted in distaste. Ong's cup hesitated briefly in its journey back to the tabletop. He glanced at each of them.
"The women can take care of themselves," he said, cautious.
"No doubt they can," Tycho replied, "so long as they don't displease the-"
It was too much. He tried to give Ong a knowing smile, but as soon as his lips even twitched, the grin he had been fighting broke out across his face like a riot. He clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his laughter from bubbling out as well. Beer slopped out of the pitcher as he rocked back and forth. Ong's eyes were narrow. Tycho shook his head and lifted his hand away from his mouth.
"I'm sorry, Ong," he gasped. "I was in the back looking for Chaka and I saw you and Ibakha. It's just…" He choked off another chuckle. "Well, you saw how Chotan reacted to my just smiling at her!"
He reached across the table to pour Ong more beer.
The Shou put his hand over his mug.
"No," he said.
Tycho shook his head.
"Don't worry! It's your business, not mine!" He raised the pitcher to Ong and added, "But you're a clever one, taking advantage of the Tuigans' own superstitions!"
"The Tuigan are no more superstitious than they should be," said Ong. He reached out and pulled the pitcher from Tycho's hand. "You should go now."
Tycho stared at his empty fingers then at Ong. The tavernkeeper looked back with a flat expression. "Ong…" he began. "Get out."
Tycho could feel blood rush to his face, but Li was the first to move. The Shou pushed his chair away from the table sharply and stood up, leaning forward with his fists on the tabletop.
"Your tavern reflects your soul," he said in distaste, "and both offend me. I don't find this so amusing as Tycho does. I'll leave with pleasure. Perhaps I understand now why you were exiled from the Great Empire."
Ong scowled and said, "Or perhaps you do not. Are all the sons of Kuang so rude?"
Li's breath hissed between his teeth and his hand reached for the sword he hadn't worn. Tycho jumped up.
"Whoa! Easy!" he said, hands held between the two Shou. "Easy, both of you. This is-"
"Oh, be quiet!" Ong snapped. He jerked his head toward the door. "That is the way out. Go, take this ill-bred dog with you, and never foul my presence with your flatulent singing again!"
Tycho stopped and turned slowly to glare at Ong, meeting him harsh gaze for harsh gaze.
"If my singing is flatulent, then I guess no one will listen when I break wind with a new song." He gave Ong a thin smile. "What do you think, Li?" he asked over his shoulder. "The Water Spirit's Lie?"
"For a song," said Li, "it smells very good."
For a moment, Ong regarded them with narrow eyes, then rose slowly from his seat. His massive chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.
"If you will not leave on your own," he growled, "maybe you will leave if I take you outside myself!"
"Outside?" Tycho spread his arms. "If you want to try something, O great guardian of the oasis, try it right here."
"It's bad enough when customers break up my tavern," Ong grumbled as he stepped around the table and walked to the door flap, holding it aside for them. "I don't want to do it myself."
Li passed though stiffly, as if the tavernkeeper were invisible, but Tycho spat at Ong's feet as he passed. Outside, the night air of the steppe was cool and still. On the other side of the oasis, the caravan lay silent, the shapes of carts, beasts, and sleeping men indistinct in the moonlight. Nearer to hand the yurts of the Tuigan settled into similar silence as the women of the oasis finally took to their beds. A few paces from the pavilion, Li turned and dropped into a disciplined fighting stance, his hands up and open. Tycho, however, stripped off his strilling and loosened the sleeves of his shirt, stalking back and forth and swearing angrily under his breath.
"Are you sure you're ready for this, you lying barrel of lard?" he called.
Ong let the door flap fall closed behind him and turned around.
"Why," he asked, "would you assume I was lying?"
He took a step forward. The foot that left the ground was human. The foot that came down was not.
"Blessed Lliira," gasped Tycho.
"Mother of dogs!" cursed Li.
Toes twice as long as Tycho's fingers, each with a membrane of webbing stretched between them and tipped with a thick claw, dug into the hard ground. The creature's hind and forelegs were short, like a crocodile's, but its body was long and sinuous. It reared back on a whiplike tail, and a neck almost as long and thin arched against the night. Scales glittered blue-green on the creature's back, glossy yellow on its belly-a belly as unmistakably fat as Ong's.
Do you think that familiarity, Ong had asked Ibakha, will protect you from a dragon's wrath?
In a streamlined, wedge-shaped head that carried pearl-white horns and thick whiskers of red and gold, Ong's angry eyes stared down at them.
"Perhaps," he said in a deep, rolling voice, "you don't understand as much as you think you do."
His fat chest swelled with breath.
The rushing sound of air struck terror through Tycho like a cold sword. With a yelp of fear, he hurled himself to the side-and straight into Li. They slammed into the ground together. Tycho managed to twist around just in time to see massive jaws gape wide. Fire? Ice? Poison? He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the agony of the dragon's breath.
Except that instead of agony, the dragon's breath enveloped him in gentle coolness. He opened his eyes to thick mist and heavy drops of water falling on him. He touched his cheek.
"Rain?" he breathed.
Li's hand clapped over his mouth. Tycho could just make out his friend's face as he scanned the gray darkness overhead.
Somewhere above, something moved. Tycho caught a brief glimpse of a long body writhing through the air-Ong had no wings, but he flew like a snake crawling along the ground-then it was gone, vanished in the mist.
"Honored ancestors watch over us," groaned Li, releasing Tycho.