ShaoShu swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
Tonglong headed for the door, and ShaoShu hurriedly unlocked it, holding it open. Tonglong passed through it with the Emperor in tow, and ShaoShu risked giving the Emperor a quick wink. The Emperor nodded slightly, as though he understood that he and ShaoShu were on the same side, and ShaoShu locked the door again.
ShaoShu hurried over to the desk area, scooping up a handful of scrolls from the floor. He tried to open the desk’s topmost drawer, but it was locked. He tried a second drawer, and this one slid smoothly open. It was empty, and he managed to carefully place half of the scrolls into it before it was full. He found another empty drawer and set the remaining scrolls in it. He had begun to walk away to find some rags to wipe up the spilled ink and powder when curiosity got the better of him.
He walked back to the desk and checked the remaining drawers. All were unlocked, and most were empty. Those that were not empty contained things you would expect to find in a desk—blank scrolls, ink, writing brushes, writing quills.
ShaoShu tugged at the desk’s only locked drawer again, wondering what might be hidden inside. Maybe it was something that could help Long and the others? Having lived alone on the streets most of his life, ShaoShu had developed skills to help him survive. One of those skills was picking locks.
He reopened a drawer containing writing quills and selected the largest, most rigid one. The end had already been sharpened to a thin point, and he stuck the point into the desk drawer’s lock. After a few careful pokes and a turn of his wrist, ShaoShu gave the quill a gentle push and the lock disengaged.
He pulled the drawer open to find more scrolls. Two of them looked very old and battered, and he couldn’t help taking a peek. While he could not read, he recognized immediately what they were. Alongside the words he saw detailed sketches of people standing in complex body positions combined with different movement sequences. All of the people had their hands held out in front of them like dragon claws. One of the scrolls even included a series with weapons. It depicted a figure with a sword in one hand and a chain whip in the other.
These were some of the dragon scrolls from the destroyed Cangzhen Temple. Ying had been after them, and ShaoShu recalled Ying once telling him how Tonglong had managed to steal several right out from under his nose.
ShaoShu grinned and slipped both scrolls into the folds of his robe. Maybe they would prove useful to his friends.
Over the next week, Long’s condition improved noticeably, but not as much as Hok would have liked. While he could sit up on his own now and go a full day without drifting off into an exhausted slumber, he was still unable to stand. He blamed it on the tumultuous seas and rough weather. Hok blamed it on her herb bag.
Hok was able to make him blood-enriching tonics and infection-inhibiting ointments, and he did benefit greatly from vast quantities of sleep and the nutritious food Charles had stowed aboard. However, Hok said that she lacked a few rare items that she was certain would speed his recovery even more. She had hoped to make a stop along the way to pick up the necessary ingredients, but Charles would not allow it. He was justifiably concerned that Tonglong might have already spread word overland that they were to be captured on sight. Additionally, the winds had not been favorable for docking in any of the ports they had passed. While it would have been easy to sail into any one of them, the prevailing winds would have prevented them from sailing back out. Moreover, once they had left the sea and begun to head up the Yellow River, Charles’ determination to stay away from the waterside towns had only grown stronger.
Hok had to settle for the next best thing, which was stopping somewhere both she and Charles knew to be safe that also had the supplies Hok wanted. She knew the perfect place: the home of an elderly healer called PawPaw, or Grandmother. It was along their route to the Jade Phoenix in the city of Kaifeng, and from Charles’ estimation they would arrive very soon.
As Charles’ sloop cut a smooth swath up the Yellow River’s fast-moving current, Long sat with his back against the boat’s side rail. Like the others, he spent most of his time scanning the area for trouble. There was plenty of scenery but very few people, and consequently no conflicts. Steep banks of yellow earth shouldered both sides of the river in this region, covered with a matting of dead grass and dried, broken reed stalks. The trees were nearly leafless, their skeleton frames shaking in the chilly breeze. Fortunately, Charles had several blankets in his sea chest to keep them all warm. They would have to acquire jackets, boots, hats, and gloves once they reached Kaifeng. They were now in the north, after all, and snow was not unheard of this time of year.
They rounded a bend in the river, and Charles pointed to the shore. “There it is,” he said, his finger aimed at a small house perched atop the riverbank. “It looks different now that the leaves have fallen.”