The Flame Iris Temple

by Colin Glassey

  “Perhaps High Advisor Sandun can dispel the ghosts of ill luck that are gathering around the palace.” Lady Osmo stared at Sandun with a focused, demanding expression.

  “Ghosts of ill luck? Here?” Lord Vaina said. “Tell me, my good wife, what bad things ever happened to the previous governors of Tokolas? This is not like Naduva or Solt’varkas.”

  “I remember you killed the former governor of Kunhalvar, five years ago.”

  “Fishtails! He was a Kitran. And we found him hiding in a storeroom outside the walls. You had that building demolished and then rebuilt a year later. Anyway, Sandun would be happy to clear out any ghosts in the palace, wouldn’t you?”

  Sandun bowed to both of them but said nothing.

  “Don’t be so modest, Sandun. Everyone says you can do it. Osmo, why don’t you leave us for a while? I’m sure Sandun and the abbot of the Temple of Noon have something important to tell me.”

  Lady Osmo departed for the inner palace with a determined gait. Lord Vaina looked carefully at River Reed and said, “I know you. You have been the master of the Temple of Noon since before I assumed control over Tokolas. People speak highly of you. What do you want of me?”

  Sandun looked at the priest. River Reed remained on his feet, his hands held in front of his chest as though in prayer. “My lord of Kunhalvar and Zelkat, there is a short answer and a long tale that lies behind it.” River Reed spoke as though he was going to recount a history lesson. Sandun and Lord Vaina sipped tea and listened. “The short answer is this: I will give you a gift of knowledge that you may make good use of. I hope and pray that you will consider this gift as you decide how to carry out your policy of shutting down the monasteries of Eston.”

  “Very well,” Lord Vaina replied with an air of impatience being papered over with diplomatic language. “I will weigh the value of the information you give me against my actions in the future.”

  “Here then is my information. I know where the Last Chancellor’s gold is located. I have seen it. The gold waits, undiminished, for the next king of Serica.”

  Lord Vaina hardly moved, but his attention was completely focused on the man standing in front of him. Using his second sight, Sandun perceived how Lord Vaina’s spirit stretched out and was almost touching the glowing spirit of Abbot River Reed.

  River Reed continued, “The Last Chancellor’s gold is locked away in a secret section of the Flame Iris Temple in Torsihad. I was once one of the chosen priors at Flame Iris, and the knowledge of the gold was passed on to me by the former abbot before he died and before I left the temple and assumed a new name.”

  “Why now?” Lord Vaina asked, his mind leaping past intermediate conclusions. “I’ve ruled here for five years. I don’t believe you are telling me this because of my new law shutting down the monasteries, since your temple is not affected. What has changed?”

  “Lord Sandun caused me to reconsider my vow of silence. Two weeks ago, I was in his presence when he did something remarkable. His spirit blazes like a bonfire in the night.” Facing Sandun, River Reed said, “You told me that you were but a servant of a greater power. I believe you must be an ekonistar, a servant of one of the adesari.”

  Sandun just stared at River Reed as impassively as he could. River Reed seemed to expect this; after a short pause, the abbot sank to his knees and bowed before Lord Vaina.

  “Lord Sandun serves you, my lord. It follows that the adesari have chosen you to be king. Therefore, I must also work to that goal myself. When Abbot Green Leaf showed me the secret treasure, he said, The gold is being held in trust for the next true king of Serica. As I prayed and meditated on what to do, one conclusion became inescapable—when you become king, the treasure will have only a small effect, despite its size. The last chancellor’s gold is a trivial amount of money when considered against the income from all twelve provinces of Serica. But if the treasure were to be handed over to you now, it might substantially hasten the day when you rule and bring peace to all the land. That is why I have come bearing this information.”

  River Reed touched his nose to the earth, saying, “I acknowledge you as the true king of Serica.”

  Lord Vaina broke out in laughter. “You must realize how ridiculous it sounds when you say this to me? I’m just a riverboatman’s son! A man of no importance. But I thank you for your very kind words and your wonderful story. Amusement aside, I can see two problems. First, I strongly doubt that the current abbot of Flame Iris Temple will hand over the gold they have been sitting on for one hundred years simply because you believe I will one day become king over all of Serica. Second, while I’m grateful for your expression of support, I don’t own Torsihad, and the Flame Iris Temple, as everyone knows, is built at the top of one of the huge karsts in the Towers of Heaven, making it impregnable to any attack even if I were to send the entire Red Crane Army in that direction.”

  Lord Vaina wiped away tears from his eyes and chuckled merrily. “You have brightened my day considerably, and that’s a fact. I confess that I felt poorly after being hit on the head this morning coupled with Osmo’s talk about evil ghosts, but you have restored my spirits. For the rest of the day, I can think to myself: I know where the Last Chancellor’s gold is hidden! The great mystery of one hundred years, finally solved. I am as happy as an imperial carp. Can you tell me how the treasure ended up in the Flame Iris Temple?”

  At Lord Vaina’s gestured invitation, River Reed took a seat and drank some tea while he answered the question. “I can. My master the abbot told me that Chancellor Verkesi spent six months collecting the gold and silver from the southern provinces but found that the way back to Naduva was blocked by Kitran cavalry. He left the gold at the Flame Iris Temple while he attempted to open a route to Naduva from the west. As we know, he and his army were ambushed, and the Kitran left no survivors. Only the senior priests of the temple knew the secret, and they never left Flame Iris. It’s a surprisingly simple story.”

  “But why would Chancellor Verkesi have left the treasure at Flame Iris? He is not known to have been a religious man.”

  “That I cannot tell you,” River Reed said simply. “But perhaps there was more to the man than the tales of his monstrous corruption allow.”

  Lord Vaina stood, and the others followed him out of the garden. Near the Ministry of Rituals, he parted from them saying, “Well, Master River Reed, I thank you for your gift of knowledge. Someday I hope to see the Flame Iris Temple and the many wonders it contains.”

  Chapter Six

  The Sekovos

  Two days later, Sandun invited Lord Vaina to attend the Keltens’ final ceremony of High Holy Week. But the governor demurred, saying he was receiving too much criticism for closing the monasteries. “Scrolls of curses have been glued to the palace walls at night. Wild rumors are being spread in the markets. People are complaining that they cannot earn merit for their parents. And, there was another accident, which has Osmo and my other wives in a fluster.”

  “Can you tell me about it?” Sandun asked.

  Lord Vaina tried to wave it off, but Sandun pressed him for details.

  “If you insist. I was up late last night, reviewing documents on land ownership by monasteries and temples. As you can imagine given the subject matter, I feel asleep. Apparently, the fire heating the room went out, and the oil lamp died. The caretakers all swore they saw me heading into Ituka’s quarters, while she thought I was spending the night with Iela. I woke nearly frozen to death. I’m usually a very light sleeper too. But I’m tough! I told you about the time I slept in the mud beside the Mur. A little cold air can’t kill me.”

  “Maybe I should examine the palace at night, as Lady Osmo suggested the other day?” Sandun offered.

  “I’d have to sleep with all four of my wives just to keep their reputations above reproach.” Lord Vaina smiled at the thought. “Osmo doesn’t like that, though neither Ituka nor Iela mind, as they a
re cousins. Lady Eun has never shared a bed with any of my other wives.”

  Sandun’s visible embarrassment at hearing Lord Vaina discuss his sleeping arrangements provoked a degree of amusement from the governor. “That’s right, you Keltens only have one woman at a time, even your kings. It’s a rather odd limitation for any powerful man. But then, the Archipelago has always had a number of strange customs.”

  “We follow the example of Sho’Ash in this. Our god had just one wife, and the holy book states it is the best way for a man and woman to live.” Realizing he was preaching the words of Sho’Ash to a nonbeliever, Sandun halted and then followed a different tack. “With your permission, I will spend the night examining the palace. We Keltens believe these first weeks of winter are when ghosts are most likely to haunt the world.”

  “I believe this will be a waste of your effort, but since it will make Osmo happy, please do so,” Lord Vaina told him. “Come two hours before midnight. I won’t give any advance warning to the palace guards in case there are more than ghosts out making trouble.”

  Miri, when she heard that Sandun was going to scout the palace for ghosts, begged leave to accompany him.

  “It will be very cold tonight,” Sandun told her.

  “I am from Birumaz, where it is much colder than this during the winter. I know how to dress to keep warm.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of ghosts?” he asked her seriously.

  “Of course, but you will drive them away,” Miri told him. “You are like the shamans of Shila, only more powerful. In my country, the shamans always work as a couple, man and wife. What if you met a female ghost? She might attempt to seduce you, like the Nomie ice maidens. It is better if I go with you.”

  Sandun agreed, although he knew nothing about the shamans of Shila, for Miri had never mentioned them before. After dinner, Miri dressed in a fur coat and fur-lined boots. She left her long hair loose under her hood, and Sandun thought she looked very fetching.

  They stepped out of the embassy gate and walked to the palace. The sky was clear and dark; the young moon had already set. Sandun thought it was below freezing or soon would be. He asked Miri about the shamans of her country, and she told him that in many small villages there were no temples of Ekon. “Naturally, the monks live apart from everyone, so when there is a ghost or a spirit causing trouble by making someone sick, the people have to call upon a shaman for help.”

  “And what do the shamans do?”

  “They go in pairs. One beats the sacred drum and chants, while the other wears a mask and dances around a fire,” Miri said seriously. “The shamans usually burn charms written on paper or spirit cakes. On occasion, they come into Birumaz and perform their ceremonies in front of a haunted house with the sick person lying beside their sacred fire. I saw such exorcisms five or six times growing up. The whole neighborhood gathered to watch. Of course, in Birumaz, shamans were only summoned after the priests’ prayers had failed to drive away the evil spirits.”

  They waited beside the guard post at the East Gate; the guards were puzzled at Sandun and Miri’s presence, and their confusion hardly lessened when Lord Vaina came out and gave orders that Sandun and his wife were to be given complete freedom of the palace this night.

  “Lady Osmo has high hopes for your success tonight, Sandun. If you need help, just use one of the guard clappers.” Lord Vaina handed him one of the special black-painted sticks the guards carried. When given a shake, a piece of wood on a hinge hit the flat portion of the stick, making a sharp and distinctive sound. “Good luck. I’m for a nice warm bed, and maybe sleep.”

  For the next hour, Sandun tried to walk the full perimeter of the palace, although this proved difficult as some buildings were attached to the walls, and there was a pond with a stream, plus the garden, with its flower beds, not to mention various storage buildings seemingly placed at random. As Sandun wended his way between the buildings, he tried hard to see the second world as well as the physical world. Several times, Miri had to halt him as he was about to run into a fence or a barrel in his path, items that had no representation in the second world. Some buildings simply didn’t exist in the second world. A few new buildings could be seen; they were like plants, growing things that swayed in an unfelt breeze. Also, the older buildings were generally recognizable in the second world but why many relatively new buildings couldn’t be seen was one of the second world’s many mysteries.

  After several hours, Miri’s spirit began to flag. She was getting cold and tired. Sandun had seen nothing unusual; in fact, the palace appeared to be entirely free of ghosts, just as Lord Vaina had predicted. The priests summoned to pray for the dead in the palace seemed to have performed their job well.

  He halted beside the storage room that concealed the secret passage leading down to the harbor. He and all the Keltens had gone into this building and threaded their way underground to the old lighthouse by the river. From the top of the lighthouse, they had rained explosive fire down on the fleet of Vasvar in the night. Their arrows caused many ships to burn, and those that could escape fled downriver in a chaotic retreat. It had been a glorious victory; he smiled as the memories flooded back. Opening the door, he took a seat in the storeroom, which was filled with future roofbeams and sacks of roof tiles. Miri leaned her head against Sandun’s shoulder and dozed off.

  Sandun stopped paying any attention to the normal world and let his spirit wander away from his body. Tonight, he found it was helpful having Miri beside him, for she gave him a better sense of where his body was. His spirit flitted rapidly about the palace area, revisiting locations he had seen before, examining them for changes or elements out of place.

  In one of the old buildings near the West Gate—was it an armory?—he found something. At this late hour, two people were awake, which was odd. As he examined them, he found their spirits were not like any he had encountered before. Their colors were very rare. He couldn’t describe the spirits he saw in tehum, the second world—he lacked the words. But he could tell the difference between the living and the dead. These spirits belonged to living creatures, but not any humans he had seen before. He felt a thrill of wonder at this mystery and halted, observing them. Sandun examined the strange patterns of the spirits and the curious way they blended into the second world when they ceased moving. He would have called them shadowy, but in the strange half-light of tehum, there were no shadows. Instead, they were like the dun-colored lizards from the dry hillocks east of his hometown, which, when they halted, became almost impossible to see.

  The two spirits became aware of him; their colors changed, perhaps indicating alarm. Sandun approached the pair, and they spoke to him like Ghost Wolf had, using images and fragments of emotion. But unlike Ghost Wolf, they were much more understandable. Clearly, they were used to communicating.

  “Who are you?” one of the creatures projected. Sandun felt an undercurrent of nervousness in the thought-voice.

  “I am the champion of Ajh. Who are you? What are you doing here in the palace of Tokolas?” Sandun tried to imitate Sir Ako’s authority and sense of purpose in his thought-reply. This was his city; he would brook no unwanted interlopers.

  “You are the new servant of Ajh? We heard the previous one had passed on. But not that she had so quickly picked a replacement.”

  “I am. Now answer my questions.”

  “I am a Sekovos, as is my companion. We are on a quest—we must satisfy a debt. We will leave as soon as our task is accomplished.” The thought came from the second self-proclaimed Sekovos.

  Ajh had told Sandun a little about Sekovie. “They are followers of Ses, the dreamer.” She had expounded, “Few in numbers, secretive and devious in both thought and deed. The Sekovie have a greater connection to tehum than any other race of mortals.”

  Something about the way the second Sekovos used the images for task seemed dark and dangerous to Sandun. As he considered its thought-voice, he b
ecame convinced it was up to no good. There were undercurrents to the images it used; the task involved someone’s death. Leaping to the obvious conclusion, Sandun woke his dragon circle and started gathering akela around him. “The Lord of Tokolas is under my protection,” he said. “This city is my domain. Explain your task to me, or I will drive you hence.”

  The Sekovie spoke to each other using a rapid series of images and ideas that meant little to Sandun.

  The first Sekovos replied to Sandun, and his word-thoughts came like an unexpected storm of hail. “You are young and weak. You think you can claim a city? Give orders to us? You are like a child floating on a lake who thinks he can command the winds. We will do as we please!”

  Sandun couldn’t help but think that the Sekovos had some truth in its thoughts. He knew very little; three months ago, he hadn’t even known the world of tehum existed. On occasion, he felt like Eustone, the blind man suddenly given sight by Saint Pellar who famously proclaimed, “By the power of Sho’Ash, I can see! But what is this world of color and light?” However, unlike Eustone, Sandun had a piece of a god inside of him, and he had sat beside that god while she explained the new world to him for more than fifty days, unsleeping, in a state of perfect concentration. More than that, he could see the minds of both Sekovie—they were afraid of him, attempting to mask their fear with pretended superiority.

  “I will not be defied,” Sandun announced. “I will summon the guards, and when they find you, they will kill you. You are not the chosen of Ses, else you would not hide in the shadows and seek your goal through falling stones and freezing air!”

  Sandun’s guess hit home. The thoughts the two Sekovie exchanged were unmistakable emotions of surprise and guilt. They had been responsible for both “accidents” that had injured Lord Vaina.

  “You cannot kill what you cannot find. We will succeed, if not this week, then the next, or the week after.” Their thoughts hinted at fear and worry. Flight was also a distinct undercurrent in the images they projected. Sandun found it curious that the Sekovie, supposed masters of deception, seemed to reveal their true intentions to him. Perhaps they were unpracticed in lying with thought-voice or had never communicated with someone like Sandun before.