Coin of the Realm

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The Master of Sinanju reined in his shaggy-footed pony on the beach of what would one day be called Shanghai. The sun shining off the sea which the barbarian Chinese called the Sea of Sudden Typhoons hurt the eyes. He turned to his night tigers.

"Dismount," he called.

Weary and hunger-wasted, the young night tigers of Sinanju climbed off their steeds. One, Sako, sat dazedly on his horse blanket. His eyes were squinched shut in pain. His face, dry in spite of the brutal heat, was the color of soiled ivory.

"Help him," Master Mangko said, holding his scabbard as he dismounted.

Two night tigers assisted Sako from his horse blanket. They laid him on the trackless white beach. The sound of the tide was a lap-lap-lap that would not change with the centuries to come.

The Master of Sinanju knelt beside his faithful warrior. He felt the man's ribs. Sako winced in pain at evry gentle touch, but he uttered no curse or word of protest.

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