Bone Lord 4

by Dante King

  Gongxiong was an ancient harbor. People had been living here for thousands of years. And where there were people, there was Death, and plenty of it. So when I plunged my spirit through the foundations of the inn and into the dirt beneath the town, I didn’t have to look too far to find Death energy. There were hundreds of thousands of skeletons buried in the numerous layers of soil beneath the town. I pulled the icy substance of lingering death from their rotting bones and channeled it up, fusing it with the solidity of the stone walls and the stout oaken roof of the inn, until both substances had reached the point of saturation, and could hold no more Death energy.

  I wasn’t sure how effective it would be against a lightning strike, but we couldn’t exactly go outside either, so it was best to stay within the inn.

  I touched the walls, and they were so cold it almost burned. The room was also filled with a slight odor of putrefaction and rot. My party members wouldn’t be able to detect it, well maybe Friya would with her wolf-like sense of smell. The stench would be undetected by the others, though. Its presence was good; the magic was strong.

  Once we were out in the open country again, though, things could well get a lot more dangerous.

  Taverns in port towns were always good places to pick up the latest news and rumors, but considering how depopulated this town was, I wondered if there’d be anyone out drinking at all. I figured going out and exploring a little would be worth a shot, at least. If anyone saw me, then it might prevent the Warlock from throwing a lightning strike at the inn where my party members were sleeping.

  I changed out of my assassin’s armor, and went to ask Zhenwan if I could borrow some of his Yengish clothes and a hood.

  But Zhenwan had a better idea.

  “I think the innkeeper’s relative must be a blind monk,” he said. “I saw monk’s robes hanging on a line in one of the back rooms. I’ll accompany you, pretending to be showing you around, and that way I can pick up on Yengish conversations you might have missed.”

  “Blind monk, huh?”

  “Yes. They are an ancient but highly secretive order. Here in Yeng, the order’s most devoted monks voluntarily have their eyes burned out; only when one loses one’s sight can one truly learn to see, they say.”

  “Sounds fucking nuts to me. Imagine never being able to see a pair of perfect tits again! I’ll take titties over enlightenment any day, thank you very much.”

  “Come, Lord Chauzec, let’s get you into the robes,” Zhenwan said as our laughter subsided.

  I went downstairs and crept around. With my assassin’s training, stealing the robe from the back room was child’s play. It was a long yellow robe, one that would completely cover my face, so it was perfect. When I took it up to my room and put it on, though, I noticed an interesting detail. On the inside of the right-hand sleeve was an embroidered sigil: three stylized dragons in a circle, one green, one blue, one red. I showed Zhenwan, and he gasped.

  “That is the sigil of the Dragon Cult! We must question the innkeeper about this.”

  “Not before we go out and use the robe,” I said. “And if we ask him straight out, he’s going to know we were snooping through his stuff.”

  “Ah yes, you’re right. Come then, let’s brave the storm and see what we can discover.”

  Chapter Twenty

  We headed into the howling wind and flashing lightning, angry thunderclaps resounding all around us. It was a hard slog to get through the tempest, but after a considerable amount of effort we found a dingy tavern that was still open, and stepped inside. At the bar were a pair of drunk Prandish sailors, a couple of Yengishmen, also inebriated, and some of the Emperor’s soldiers in their yellow and red armor. They too were drinking, and their fierce-looking helmets were off. Both men had shaved heads with only black bangs unshorn; this, Zhenwan said, was the standard haircut for Yengish soldiers. The pair of them scowled darkly at us as we walked in, but said nothing.

  “Why’d they give us that dirty look?” I asked Zhenwan after we sat down at a table.

  “The Order of Blind Monks is resented by the Emperor and his army. The monks bow to no authority but their own secret deity. They are beholden only to their own laws, which prevent them from harming any living being. Because of an ancient agreement between a long-dead Glorious Emperor and the head of their order, and because their own laws prevent them from committing any sorts of crimes, the current Emperor has to permit their existence and independence in Yeng. In recent times, however, he has been looking for any excuse possible to nullify this ancient agreement and persecute the Blind Monks. As long as none of them break any laws, though, he cannot … so please, Lord Chauzec, try not to kill anyone while dressed in this garb.”

  “I’ll try. Wouldn’t be the first war I’ve started, though,” I said with a chuckle, my voice muffled a little by the layers of yellow cloth wrapped around my face.

  “I’ll go order us some drinks, and keep an ear open for useful information,” Zhenwan said.

  He went to the bar and left me at the table. While most of the conversations were in Yengish, I could just pick up the drunken Prandish sailors’ conversation, so I strained my ears to listen in. They provided nothing except tales of their sexual exploits, however.

  A hunched-over, elderly servant hobbled toward my table, a cleaning rag and a bucket in his hands. He mumbled something to me in Yengish, which seemed to be something like “excuse me, sir.” I let him clean the table in front of me while I continued listening to the sailors, hoping I might hear something worthwhile. It was fruitless, and when I turned my attention back to the table, the old man had finished cleaning and was limping away. I immediately noticed there was a note left on the now clean table.

  I opened it and saw that it was written in the pictographic language of Yeng. The characters were raised from the paper, pressed to create ridges, so they could be read by the fingers of a blind man as well as by someone with their sight intact. When Zhenwanm returned to the table, looking disappointed, I handed him the note.

  “Heard nothing much,” he said. “Some men were talking about girls drained of blood and the Hooded Man, but it was about several weeks ago, so useless now.”

  “Have a look at this.” I handed him the note. “This old servant came and cleaned my table before he left it here.”

  “‘Revered Brother Monk, our Brethren will be meeting tonight in the usual place at the stroke of midnight,’” Zhenwan read the note to me. “‘An exciting new development has taken place; a figure of great power has come across the ocean to our shores, one who may help bring the Revered Deity back from oblivion. Power be to Dragons and the Dragon Goddess, and peace be upon all living things!’”

  Zhenwan looked at me with wide-open eyes. This was exciting news; we could use some local informants on our side.

  “Now I know why there’s a Dragon Cult emblem hidden inside this sleeve,” I said.

  “We must find out where this meeting place is,” Zhenwan said. “The order of Blind Monks could be powerful allies to our cause.”

  “Powerful allies? I mean, they sound like real nice folk, with all that love and harmlessness, but I need warriors on my side, not peace-loving monks.”

  Zhenwan grinned. “Something I didn’t tell you is that the Blind Monks are some of the most skilled warriors in all of Yeng. They do not use weapons, and do not kill, but they will beat anyone who threatens them to within an inch of their lives. And if an enemy threatens to kill innocents, they are permitted to ignore their no killing rule. Killing an enemy to save innocent lives is preferable to allowing the enemy to kill innocents.”

  “Well, that does change things.”

  “They would be excellent allies, Lord Chauzec, but how do we go about finding their meeting place? We can’t exactly go walking around asking about their secret meeting place. And the storms outside will make the task rather arduous.”

  “That old servant knows something. Of course, if I ask him any questions, he’ll quickly figure out I’m no bli
nd monk and he’ll clam up tighter than a nun’s asshole. And he’s way too weak and pathetic a figure for me to beat the information out of him. I wouldn’t kick an old cleaner’s ass, it’s just not right. Can we bribe him?”

  “Gold is useless to one in the service of the Blind Monks. They take poverty vows much like the monks.”

  I paused to think and came up with an alternative. “You wait here and keep eavesdropping. I have an idea.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, Lord Chauzec.”

  When I left the tavern, the storms had subsided a little, although it was still an exercise of strength and endurance to return to the inn. I found my chest full of items and removed the Dragon Gauntlet I already owned. I was hoping the Dragon Cult members would lead me to the other gauntlet, and I figured this one would be a good way to convince the cult to help me.

  I headed to Anna-Lucielle’s room, and she recognized my knock on her door right away. She opened the door dressed in nothing but a skimpy silk shift. Her black hair gleamed invitingly in the candlelight. Her long legs were on display, from her ankles to the top edge of her thigh gap. Desire crackled in her eyes, and she slowly licked her ruby-painted lips.

  “I was hoping for a visit from you tonight, Vance. Won’t you keep a girl warm on this cold, stormy night, my hero? Oh, that’s an, um, interesting costume you’re wearing. I get it, you have some kinky Yengish roleplay thing in mind? The holy monk gets tempted to break his vow of chastity by the femme fatale? And despite his years of abstinence, he turns out to be a master at the art of lovemaking? Sounds like fun!”

  “I’d love to, Anna-Lucielle,” I said, “but unfortunately I have business to take care of, and I’m gonna need your help.”

  “Right now, out there in the tempest?” she asked, looking disappointed.

  “I’m afraid so. Get your coat on, there’s no time to waste.”

  She searched my eyes, but when she saw no change, she sighed and disappeared into her room.

  A short while later she and I returned to the inn but we didn’t go inside just yet.

  “There’s an old man who cleans tables here,” I said. “I need you to use your Charm magic on him, to get him to reveal the location of the secret meeting spot of the Order of Blind Monks, without getting him suspicious. Would you be able to make him do that and forget that he even said anything at all? I don’t want the old bastard feeling guilty about letting his tongue slip.”

  Anna-Lucielle smiled. “Don’t worry, Vance, I’ll take care of it. He won’t feel anything, and he won’t remember a thing when it’s done. He won’t even remember talking to us.”

  “Good. Come, let’s head inside. I’ll spill a drink on the table, you take care of the rest.”

  Anna-Lucielle and I entered the inn and sat at the table with Zhenwan.

  “Zhenwan,” she said, “as soon as you see me touch the old man, start asking him questions about this meeting place. When you’ve received all the information you need, give me a signal, a little kick under the table or something, and I’ll release him from my spell.”

  “At your command,” Zhenwan said.

  I knocked over a tankard of ale, spilling it all over the polished wooden tabletop and the stone floor. The barkeep noticed and yelled at the servant in question. The elderly man hobbled over, keeping his eyes averted, and started cleaning up the ale with a rag. Anna-Lucielle leaned forward a little and softly placed her hand on one of the old man’s wrists. He looked up in surprise. A soft light glowed in Anna-Lucielle’s eyes, and the old man’s small black eyes grew vacant and his face became completely expressionless. He looked as if he’d fallen into a deep trance.

  Zhenwan asked him a few questions in Yengish, and the old man droned his reply, as if he’d just slugged back a few pitchers of sailor’s rum. His words weren’t slurred, though, and aside from a look of blank serenity, he seemed fine.

  After some time Zhenwan obtained all the information he needed, and he gave Anna-Lucielle a quick nod. She removed her hand from the old fellow’s fist, and the odd expression quickly faded from his face. He stared at us in confusion, then shook his head, mopped up the spilled ale, and trudged back to his stool behind the bar.

  “Got it?” I asked Zhenwan.

  He nodded.

  “And you’re sure the old guy won’t remember anything?” I asked Anna-Lucielle.

  “Not a single thing, I promise. He’d swear on his mother’s grave that he didn’t say a single word to us if you asked him now. You could even torture him, if you were a sadistic asshole of course, and he still wouldn’t confess.”

  “I don’t think we need to go that far. Thanks, Anna-Lucielle, you can head back to the inn now. Zhenwan and I have a secret meeting to attend.”

  “Can’t I come too?” she asked eagerly.

  Zhenwan shook his head. “The Blind Monks are a strictly male-only organization.”

  “But they’re blind, how would they even know I was a woman if I didn’t speak? Unless they’re also known as the Groping Monks.”

  Zhenwan chuckled and shook his head. “Trust me, they’ll know if a woman is in their presence. In the absence of sight, their other senses have been greatly enhanced. Even Charm magic such as Anna-Lucielle’s won’t hide your gender from them.”

  “Sorry, Anna-Lucielle, but it’s best that this is just me and Zhenwan,” I added. “This could be really important for my quest, and I don’t want to take any chances that could fuck it up. I’ll make sure I thank you appropriately later, though,” I added with a suggestive wink.

  That was more than enough to turn her frown into a smoldering smile.

  “I can’t wait to receive my thanks from you, Vance.” She traced a finger across my chest.

  “Hey, hey, I’m supposed to be a monk, remember?” I said with a chuckle. “Let’s not blow my cover now.”

  “All right, I’ll see you later,” she said with some disappointment on her face. “Good luck.”

  Anna-Lucielle left, and Zhenwan and I huddled together for more privacy. I decided that it would be best for Zhenwan to pretend to be a bandit I’d captured, working as a spy for the Glorious Emperor and trying to get information that could justify him attacking the Order—a plausible enough explanation, given everything I’d learned about the Emperor and his hatred of the Order.

  It was easy to find some rope to bind Zhenwan’s hands with, and with his sunburned face and haggard looks from his ordeal in the dinghy a week earlier, he certainly looked like a bandit, even if he was far too skinny to look at all threatening. I didn’t have space in the little pocket of my monk’s robes to hide the Dragon Gauntlet, so Zhenwan put it in the satchel he always carried over his shoulder.

  The Blind Monks’ meeting spot, Zhenwan had learned, was in a secret chamber beneath an old temple in the heart of Gongxiong. A secret pattern knocked on the rear altar would gain us entry.

  The temple was quite different from our Prandish temples. The eaves of the roof were curved, even more so than other on Yengish buildings. The structure was painted in bright tones of yellow and red, and there was a lot of intricate, gleaming bronze and brass artwork everywhere. Tattered tapestries inscribed with ancient scriptures in the Yengish pictographic script hung from the walls. The pillars which held the roof up were carved in the likeness of stylized dragons, as were the plinths scattered across the temple, illuminated by red candles on every flat surface.

  The temple was clearly not abandoned or ruined, but it had seen better days, and was empty at this hour. We walked to the rear altar, and I noticed a plain white marble slab on the ground.

  “That looks like a secret door to me,” I said, and knocked on the marble slab in the pattern the old servant had described.

  After a few seconds, the slab rumbled and gradually slid across the floor, revealing a stairway. Beginning the charade, I grabbed Zhenwan by the back of his neck and manhandled him down the stairs, taking care to not actually hurt him. We entered a narrow passage, lit by burning torches on t
he walls, then the slab closed above us with a rumble. We turned the corner at the end and found ourselves facing a large chamber, where a group of yellow-robed Blind Monks were sitting in a circle, each man seated in the lotus position.

  A monk barked out something in Yengish at me and Zhenwan. My eyes were drawn to a jade necklace on his chest, and I figured this marked him as their leader. Zhenwan replied in a mock-frightened tone, jabbering on and feeding them the story we’d cooked up about him being a spy for the Emperor.

  The exchange in Yengish between this monk, who seemed to be the leader of the group, and Zhenwan, continued for a few minutes. It sounded like the monk was interrogating Zenwhan. I began to grow impatient; we’d gained access to the meeting, they weren’t about to throw us out now or run away, so it was time to get down to business and reveal myself.

  “What are they saying?” I whispered to Zhenwan, my voice low enough that nobody could possibly have heard it, or so I’d thought.

  “Why are you speaking the Prandish tongue to this rogue, brother?” the leader asked me. “Even though we do not have eyes, it is plain to us that this foul spy is as Yengish as any of us—although, to be honest, your Prandish accent sounds remarkably perfect for a Yengishman.”

  “And you speak Prandish well too, my friend,” I said to him. “But I’m no Yengishman, and this man here with me is neither a spy nor a rogue.”

  The monks sprang to their feet and jumped into combat stances.

  “So, two enemies have infiltrated our secret meeting,” the leader said. “We cannot kill you two, of course, but we can make you both regret the moment you chose to engage in this foolishness. Vile imposters, prepare to taste the righteous wrath of the Order of Blind Monks!”

  “We’re not enemies,” I said. “We’re allies. I don’t want to have to kick devout men’s asses. Let’s talk this over, before—”

  With a shrill cry, the monk nearest to me launched himself through the air in a perfect flying kick. My reflexes were triggered fast enough for me to duck under the kick, but Zhenwan wasn’t quite so quick to respond. Hell, even most trained fighters wouldn’t have been. Before Zhenwan registered what was happening, the flying monk’s foot slammed into his chest and hurled him through the air. He slammed with a crunching thump against the far wall and flopped onto the floor, dazed. The Dragon Gauntlet was trapped in his satchel under his body, so that option of ending this brawl before it started was now out the window.