PawPaw's music stopped suddenly, and Charles looked toward the house. He heard Fu growl, low and deep, and then Malao shrieked so sharply it made Charles’ yellow hair stand on end. Something wasn't right.
Charles raced up the hill, pulling one of his flintlock pistols from the folds of his robe. He circled around to the front of the house and found the door closed. Usually, it was wide open.
Malao shrieked again.
Without breaking stride, Charles slammed his shoulder into the weathered front door, tearing it from the hinges. The door crashed inward onto the floor, and Charles stumbled in after it. The toe of his boot caught on a piece of splintered doorjamb, and he felt himself hurling toward the floor.
Charles tucked into a tight roll and popped to his feet in one fluid motion. He had performed this roll thousands of times while lion dancing. Instinctively, Charles leveled his pistol, and he found himself aiming at the head of one of the strangest men he'd ever seen. The man had a long torso and curiously short arms and legs. He also had a long, thin mustache that stretched almost to his chest. His nose looked as if it had been beaten flat with an anvil, and he was covered with dirt from head to toe.
Oddest of all was that Charles thought he recognized the man.
“Charles,” Seh said, looking in his general direction, “you remember NgGung, don't you? You met him briefly in Kaifeng.”
“Centipede,” Charles said, lowering his pistol. “Of course, you're one of the bandits. You helped us escape Tonglong's attack during the Dragon Boat Festival. Good to see you again.” Charles bowed low, first to NgGung, then to PawPaw. “I am so very sorry. I thought—”
PawPaw laughed. “No need to apologize, Charles. You thought we were in trouble. I might have thought the same thing after those little outbursts you heard.” She shook a finger at NgGung. “Our guest here likes to play games. One of his favorites is to sneak into friends’ homes and see how long it takes before someone notices him. He didn't get very far this evening with a tiger, a monkey, and a snake keeping me company!”
NgGung shrugged. “You can't blame a guy for trying.”
Malao giggled.
NgGung grinned a toothless grin and glanced at Fu, Malao, and Seh. “Excellent work, by the way. An intruder would never get past you three.” He stroked his thin, dirty mustache and turned to Charles. “You, on the other hand, my friend, could use a bit of practice in the subtle art of stealthy entry. I do applaud your style, though. It was quite dramatic.”
Malao giggled again.
“Uh, thanks,” Charles said. “I think.” He returned the pistol to the folds of his robe. “So, what are you doing here, NgGung?”
“PawPaw and I have been friends forever,” NgGung replied. “I heard a bit of news I thought she might find interesting. I am sure you will, too.”
“Hok?” Seh asked.
“That's right,” NgGung said. “I've just come from Jinan, where I spoke with a black-market ringleader called HukJee. It seems he is being forced to track Hok for Tonglong.”
“I don't understand,” Charles said. “If HukJee is working for Tonglong, why would he tell you about it?”
“HukJee is an old friend, too,” NgGung said. “He and I do business often. He runs a huge network of black-market vendors who deal in all manner of goods, but they also buy and sell information. They have an elaborate system of runners, who are on the move day and night, keeping the items and information flowing continuously. I am in the in formation business, too, you know, and HukJee and I trade information like other people trade goods or services. He is a good man, and he doesn't like Tonglong. He told me the details out of frus tration.”
“Is Hok okay?” Charles asked.
“Perfectly fine, as near as I can tell,” NgGung said. “She probably doesn't know she's being tracked, though.”
“How is she being tracked?” PawPaw asked.
“Through her shopping habits,” NgGung replied. “Hok and Ying have been traveling down the Grand Canal together, searching for dragon bone.”
“She's with Ying?” Fu said. “Wait until I get my hands on him—”
“It might not be what you think,” NgGung said. “They appear to be working together. Or more likely, Hok is helping Ying. It seems Ying bides his time lying low in their skiff while Hok shops. Unfortunately, all the vendors in this region and beyond have been instructed not to sell her any dragon bone. Sooner or later, Hok will walk into a trap.”
“We have to help her!” Malao said.
“Indeed,” NgGung said. “I wish I knew how.”