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ordered them to leave Macao; yet they come to seek terms, hoping I will permit them to remain. I have refused once before, still they persist. Why?” Chiang Lu shrugged. “You see, Captain Penmerry, another mystery. Ah … my servant.”
    The man Chiang Lu had dispatched returned with the silk purse. Its contents jingled as Chiang Lu tossed it from one hand to the other. He issued another order to his servant and the man hurried off.
    â€œGold sovereigns, the amount of which shall remain unknown, like the wealth of your furs. I wager one mystery against another. What say you?” His almond-shaped eyes flashed.
    Morgan made a show of trying to decide, when in truth any amount in Chiang Lu’s purse would be more than what his ruined cargo might bring. The captain glanced in Temp’s direction, winked, then faced Chiang Lu. “Agreed!”
    His answer was translated and passed among the surrounding throng. But Chiang Lu was not finished. He had been carefully appraising the gamecock Morgan Penmerry held.
    â€œA fine bird. This honorable one hopes he may find a suitable opponent.” Chiang Lu smiled. Morgan’s blood ran cold, for despite the Chinese warlord’s civility, there was not a trace of warmth in his eyes. “I find,” Chiang Lu continued, “I must avail myself of an esteemed associate’s assistance.”
    â€œOh, shit,” Temp muttered from behind the captain.
    Morgan turned and allowed his gaze to sweep across the audience. Chiang Lu’s servant had passed among them and stopped alongside another ship’s captain, a man Morgan immediately recognized.
    â€œDemetrius Vlad,” Morgan said.
    Captain Demetrius Vlad was a known criminal, an exile who, it was rumored, plied the seas not only as an “honest” merchant but kept a pirate’s colors as well, ready to fly at will. Of course, such dark tales remained unsubstantiated, for no one had ever lived to offer proof.
    Vlad was a man of average height, with finely chiseled, almost feminine features. His brown hair was concealed beneath a purple scarf tied close to his skull and draped down his back. A close-cropped beard followed his jawline and added substance to a slightly receding chin. Vlad carried a bamboo cage under his arm as he descended to the floor of the arena. He wore high-topped boots, as were the fashion, and tight linen trousers and a scarlet waistcoat adorned with brass buttons and gold braid.
    His foppish manner did not fool Morgan Penmerry, who knew the exiled Russian to be a skilled swordsman. Vlad bowed to the Cornishman and his host, Chiang Lu.
    â€œI believe you know my esteemed associate,” Chiang Lu said to the fur trader.
    Morgan’s interest was aroused. The Chinese warlord obviously implied a closer relationship with the Russian than Morgan had been aware of. Considering Vlad’s reputation, it made sense.
    â€œCaptain Vlad has supplied me with innumerable services. He is a most resourceful… uh … partner,” Chiang Lu explained without revealing anything of substance.
    Macao was a chaotic port over which Chiang Lu cast a long shadow. However, there were any number of noblemen eager to take Chiang Lu’s place in the sun. An unscrupulous renegade like Vlad no doubt came in handy in controlling any serious competition. Morgan wondered if Chiang Lu’s home guard, the ominously impassive Blue Wing Dragons; were strictly for defense of Chiang Lu’s hillside estate. Might they not be dispatched through the night-lit city to swoop down like birds of prey on some hapless merchant who had encroached on Chiang Lu’s economic domain?
    â€œCaptain Morgan Penmerry is it? We’re old friends,” the Russian said in perfect English.
    â€œYou’d better rethink that term, Demetrius. It hardly’ applies to you and me,” Morgan said.
    Vlad frowned for a second, then chuckled softly. “‘By Tre, Pol, and Pen, you