The Dragon Gaol, the fortress of the dragon, was a dreary, ancient building set on the south bank of the Yellow River. The Gaol had once served to guard the city from attack from the west: one wall of the structure was formed from the ancient city wall itself just where the Yellow River curved south; another plunged from a five-story tower into the waters of the river. The edifice was named because during its building the bones of a huge dragon had been uncovered there, a fireserpent turned to stone by some unknown magic. The creature's flesh was gone, but the great skeleton was unmistakably that of a once-living and mythical beast. The fierce, needle-toothed and polished head of the creature still loomed above the entranceway of the Gaol like a nightmare sculpture, set there by the order of Huangd Nuwa II, who had ruled the city at the time.
The Gaol was no longer a fortress, just as the few remaining sections of the city wall no longer protected Orbis but had been overrun and mostly consumed by the spreading town. Instead, its walls weeping with moisture and covered by black moss, the fortress had long ago been transformed into a gloomy prison where those deemed to be enemies of Orbis resided, often for the remainder of their lives. Lixia wan'Sanzang, who had reigned for three short and violent days as Huangd, had been the first prisoner held in the Gaol, nearly a hundred and fifty years before. He languished there for nearly half his life, writing the poetry that would gain him an immortality that his brief coup never accomplished. More recently, the Huangdi's first cousin Lei wan'Bei had been imprisoned for having financed the attempted assassination of Shangxiang prior to her coronation. Luckily for Lei, he had not been gifted with Shangxiang's longevity, or perhaps the dank atmosphere of the Gaol had infected him; he had died there six years later from a fever.
Mancheng wan'Zhuge, Commandant of the Huangd Patrol, Aristocrat of Orbis, a high officer in the Patrol, had never liked the Gaol. He liked it less since the Huangdi had placed it under his control.
Mancheng was certain that the poor fool who had tried to attack the Guji would not be one of those remembered for his interment in the Gaol. Rather, he would be one of the far more numerous enemies of the state who entered these gates and were immediately forgotten.
The patrol around the massive oaken gates of the Gaol jerked to attention as Mancheng approached from the Tsing-Ma Bridge. He gave them only the barest nod, glancing up—as he always did—to the stone-trapped head of Nuwa's dragon that snarled down on him. The dark shapes of house martins fluttered from where they'd nested under the crenellated summits of the towers on either side of the gate, but as Mancheng watched, one of the birds darted out from the creature's open mouth. A barred door at the foot of the left tower opened, and the Captain of the Goal emerged, a graybeard whose pasty skin betrayed long hours in darkness. The captain had once been the sole authority in the Gaol; now, by order of the Huangdi, he reported to Mancheng. Neither one of them liked that fact. "Commandant wan'Zhuge, we've been waiting for you."
Mancheng was still looking up at the dragon's mouth. He pointed as the martin darted back into the dragon's mouth and another left. "Do you know what's wrong with that, Captain wei'Nanman?"
The man stepped out from the door, blinking in the sunlight. He stared at the dragon. He rarely looked at Mancheng; when he did, like many people, his gaze was snared by the gleaming silver glasses that hide the dameged eyes Mancheng had lost in a duel. "Commandant?"
"I love the freedom that the martins portray," Mancheng told him. He smiled, gesturing at them. "Look at them, the way they dart and flit, the way they fly with the gift of wings Inari has given them. There are times I envy them and wish I could do the same. I would give up much if I could see the city as they do and move effortlessly from one rooftop to another."
Wei'Nanman nodded, though his face was puzzled under the grizzled beard. "I... I suppose I understand what you're saying, Commandant," he said.
"Do you?" Mancheng asked, more sharply, the smile gone to ice on his lips. A martin emerged from the dragon's mouth again and fluttered off. "That dragon's head is the symbol of the Gaol, of its power and strength and terror. What message do you think it sends when those we bring here see birds nesting in that mouth, Captain? Do you think your prisoners feel terror as they pass underneath, or do they see a sign of hope that we're impotent, that they might pass through the Gaol's clutches as easily as that martin?"
The captain blinked heavily. "I'd never thought of it before, Commandant."
"Indeed," Mancheng answered. "I see that." He took a step toward the captain, close enough that he could smell the garlic the man had eaten with his eggs that morning. His voice was loud enough that the patrol around the gate could still hear him. "Signs and symbols are potent things, Captain. Why, if I hung someone from a gibbet there below the dragon, someone who—let us say—didn't understand how important symbols are, I believe that seeing that body twisting in its cage would send a powerful message to those who work here. In fact, the more important that person, the more powerful that message would be, don't you think?"
Captain wei'Nanman visibly shuddered. His throat pulsed under the beard as he swallowed. He was staring at Mancheng now, at his own warped reflection in the polished surface of Mancheng's silver glasses. "I'll see that the nest is removed, Commandant, and you may be assured that no birds will roost there again."
The smile widened. Mancheng reached out and patted wei'Nanman's cheek as if he were a child Mancheng was correcting. "I'm certain you will," he said. "Now, I'd like to see this Mategician."