by Dave Gross
I strained my neck to cast a furtive glance toward Jade Tiger and his charge, sensing that my fellows to either side did the same while attempting to retain the illusion of strict obeisance.
The eunuch stepped forward, fluttering a fan before his face. Upon its outward face was painted a trio of playful tiger cubs, their jaws open in comical smiles. I wondered at the coincidence of the image on the fan and our encounter outside the gates of the temple. It seemed unlikely that he would have seen our flight from the brigands, even less so that he would have conjured tigers to attack us.
Still ...
“King Wen, by the Mandate of Heaven Monarch of all Quain, congratulates the new disciples of Dragon Temple,” announced Jade Tiger. His voice was high and clear, yet not as fine as the voices of the celebrated castrati of the Chelish opera. He stepped forward, preceding his master in the inspection of our sweaty figures.
As the hem of the eunuch’s robe passed inches from my head, I detected the strong odor of incense over the scent of road dust and cosmetic powder. Beneath it all, the eunuch’s skin exuded a curious smell neither masculine nor feminine. It was an alien odor, and I wondered what Arnisant would make of it. Surely by now the hound had found Radovan. How much longer could it take them to follow my trail to Dragon Temple, allowing us to resume our journey to the capital of Quain?
The prince drifted past. I glimpsed a jeweled slipper beneath the hem of the embroidered silken robe. By some charm, the dust left no stain on the garment. A black scabbard chased in gold hung from an embroidered belt around the royal waist. Unlike the eunuch, the prince had not bathed in the smoke of incense, and I noted a wholly agreeable air of jasmine mingled with a surprisingly delicate scent of clean skin. Intrigued, I turned my head just enough to glimpse upward at the royal face.
From the low vantage, I peered beneath the veil that hung from the round brim of the hat. Within I spied dark eyes and a hint of perfect cheeks. I saw one other notable feature—or rather the lack of one—before Master Wu stamped the breath from my lungs.
“Eyes down,” he hissed.
Stunned, I could barely muster the strength to return my palms to the ground beneath my forehead. Yet the punishment for sating my curiosity had almost been worth it.
The prince was possessed of the most supernal beauty I had ever been privileged to view, but I detected the absence of a key masculine feature: a prominent larynx. Combined with the intoxicating orchid fragrance of the royal skin, I could come to only one conclusion.
The prince was a princess.
Chapter Five
Judge Fang
In the land where I was born, Arnisant is the name of a great hero. My master gave me the same name to make me a good dog, so I would always do my best.
Master teaches me the rules and gives me jobs. When I do a job well, he gives me a reward, usually a piece of meat. Sometimes the reward is his praise, which I like almost as much. Praise means he is proud of me. It also means I’ll probably get some more meat soon.
When the swordsmen surrounded us, Master sent me to fetch Radovan. I was glad to have another chance to do good after failing to fetch his horse. My master has often sent me to fetch Radovan, and it is a job I do well. I take Radovan’s hand in my mouth and pull him to wherever my master is. I don’t bite hard, because that’s the rule.
Also, I don’t bite hard because I am afraid to anger Radovan. I have seen his teeth.
Sometimes Master scolds Radovan for playing with me instead of giving me jobs. Also, Master does not like it when Radovan calls me “Arni” instead of by my full name. Radovan does not obey the rules. Sometimes he rewards me when I haven’t done a job, but he does that only when Master is not present.
Radovan is not my master. He’s my friend.
Fetching Radovan is easy because he has a strong smell, which is even stronger after he has caught on fire. Sometimes Master has offered to set him on fire, but Radovan doesn’t like it. I understand, because I wouldn’t like it either. Even without my master’s help, Radovan manages to catch on fire. He catches on fire more than anyone.
I found Radovan’s smell where we first fought the swordsmen. Long before I reached the spot, I could tell he had caught on fire again. I followed his fire-smell down from the hills and into the woods. It was hard to focus on his scent so close to the trees where there were so many other trails to follow. Some of the smells straightened my tail. I wanted to follow the path of the hare, but I am a good boy, so I followed Radovan’s trail instead.
The trail led all through the forest. Radovan changed direction many times, usually beside a tree that had plenty of his smell on it. Some of the trees smelled like cats. The smell of what they had eaten and the heavy scratch marks high on the bark made me think these cats were too big to chase. I was glad my master had not sent me to fetch them.
Radovan’s trail crossed the path of another man. The other man’s smell was even stronger than Radovan’s. I do not think my master would like the other man. He prefers people with weak smells.
The two trails came together in a clearing. They were strong there, so I knew that Radovan and the other man had stayed for a while. Now there was no one else in the clearing except some noisy birds. I told them to be quiet, and they flew away.
The two smells together left another trail out of the clearing. This one went back through the forest but without all the turns and twists of Radovan’s path into the forest. I followed the smells back to where the swordsmen attacked us.
Radovan and a man with only one arm stood at the top of the nearest hill. If it had been Radovan alone, I would have greeted him, but my master taught me not to greet him or Radovan if someone is with them. Instead I ran toward him.
Before I reached Radovan, the one-armed man made a ball of fire around them both. This kind of thing happens to Radovan all the time, but it still made him angry. He called the other man Burning Cloud Devil.
The fireball moved off of the ground and flew away. I called out to Radovan, but the fireball did not stop. I chased after it, but it was too high and too fast to catch.
I was not going to be a good boy this time, either. I couldn’t catch my master’s horse, and now I couldn’t fetch Radovan.
I searched the area and found my master’s smell. It was surrounded by many other smells of men. They were mostly not the same men who came with us from the town beside the sea. Many of the smells were bad because the men were sick. Some were frightened, and those were the worst smells.
They were easy to follow, but sometimes they confused me. I could not always find my master’s trail because it went in two different directions. Sometimes it smelled as if he were walking in two different places. I stopped often to make sure he was still with the other men. Checking made me slow, but I knew he was still with the other men. They all went together over the hills. Then they went along a road.
After dark, the bird sounds changed. When I had traveled long enough to feel thirsty, there were no bird sounds at all. I smelled the big cats again. The men had gone through their territory. I began to worry about my master. I didn’t want a big cat to eat him.
It was late at night when I found the bones. Soon I also found pieces of his clothes, and I felt scared. I whimpered, but there was no one to hear me.
I noticed there was something wrong with the smell. The clothes were my master’s, but the blood was not his. I kept searching.
All around the area I smelled the big cats. I smelled Radovan and Burning Cloud Devil, too, but no one was here anymore.
I searched all over the battleground before I found my master’s smell. He was with another man who smelled frightened. They had moved away from all the other men, and a big cat went after them. The cat had eaten bears and horses. I did not want to fight a cat so big.
But for my master, I would fight one.
All thr
ee trails went through a big open doorway over the road. On either side of the doorway sat a big animal. The one on the right had a dog’s face and a big cat’s mane and the talons of a bird, and it smelled like stone. The other one had the horns and body of a stag, but the scales of a fish and the face of a lizard. It smelled like metal.
“Go away, dog,” said the animal to my right. “You are not permitted through this gate.”
“There is not even a door in the gate,” I said.
The other one laughed. “Try to enter, if you dare.”
“I dare!” I ran through the doorway. I saw nothing, but I felt a wall as hard as stone. A flash of green light stung me and threw me back.
“Not even an ordinary beast like you may pass the walls of Dragon Temple.”
“There are no walls.”
“Then try to enter, if you dare.”
I did not dare again.
“My master’s smell goes through this doorway.”
“No master has passed through this gate since last autumn,” said the animal on the left. “Only disciples and royal visitors have entered.”
“I need to find my master.”
“We were made to prevent all spirits and animals from entering the temple,” said the one on the right. “I am Stone Guardian Chu, and this is my sister, Bronze Sentinel Wing. So long as we guard this gate, you will not pass.”
“Tell my master I am here.”
“We cannot leave our post,” said Bronze Sentinel Wing.
“I must find my master. I cannot find my friend, and I smelled big cats!”
“It is not our concern,” said her brother.
“You are useless,” I said. “Who can help me find my master?”
“We serve the masters of Dragon Temple, not any stray dog that happens by,” said Stone Guardian Chu. “Go away. No one will emerge from Dragon Temple until next spring.”
“I pity the dog, brother,” said Bronze Sentinel Wing. “Perhaps Judge Fang could help.”
“Who is Judge Fang?”
“Sister,” said Stone Guardian Chu. “There is no need to be cruel.”
“I want Judge Fang to help me,” I said. “Tell me where he is. Tell me now!”
“Look to that star that is twinkling,” said Bronze Sentinel Wing. “Follow it into the woods and cry out Judge Fang’s name. He will find you.”
“Sister,” said Stone Guardian Chu. “I do not think it wise to send this dog to Judge Fang.”
“If Judge Fang will help me find my master, I want to find him.”
I ran toward the woods. Behind me, Bronze Sentinel Wing laughed as Stone Guardian Chu scolded her. I didn’t understand them, but I knew my job. I needed to find my master.
I ran into the woods and cried out Judge Fang’s name.
The newborn crickets stopped singing. There were many smells among the trees. There were pigs and frogs and rats and birds and snakes and ferrets and all kinds of animals. Most of them fled or hid as I ran past. I wanted to eat some of them, but I had to do my job first. Still, I was thirsty. I stopped to drink from a pool. The water was cool and clean. I saw a tree branch reflected in the water. There were tiny lights above me, and something moved along the branch.
“Judge Fang! Judge Fang!”
“What is all this commotion?” called an old man’s voice.
On the branch sat a man with the head and wings of a big cricket. He was so tiny that I could have eaten four of him in one bite. He wore a long robe and held a pipe like Radovan’s but with a smaller bowl and a long stem as thin as a whisker. Beside him lay a bag, and across his knees lay a twig for a walking stick. “Who disturbs the Celestial Order today? Who cries out my name? For what calamity—?”
“Are you Judge Fang?”
“Interrupting is a sign of poor character, even in a dog. Who sent you here?”
“Bronze Sentinel Wing.”
“Aha!” said the cricket man. He fluttered his wings and moved closer to the ground, but not close enough for me to eat him. I was not hungry, but I thought him wise to be cautious. He pointed his walking twig at me before leaning on it. “You must be a naughty dog.”
“I am a good dog. I want to find my master.”
“Is your master the one responsible for bringing the Jade Tiger into Dragon Temple? Is he the hero who flies on balls of fire through my sky?”
“No,” I said, and it was true. My master did sometimes throw balls of fire, but he never flew on them. “The big cats chased my master. The fire came from Burning Cloud Devil.”
“Both the Burning Cloud Devil and the Jade Tiger!” Judge Fang grabbed his chest and staggered. “Surely a great catastrophe is at hand.”
“You must help me find my master. He fixes everything.”
“Not so quickly,” said Judge Fang. “If it is true that these twin dooms have come so close to Dragon Temple, it is my duty to restore the Celestial Order, the natural spring of virtue from which all rules of behavior fall like nourishing streams.”
“I am good at rules.”
“Perhaps so,” said Judge Fang. “But one dog, however obedient, is insufficient for such an awful task. Jade Tiger and Burning Cloud Devil are powerful foes. They must have evil designs on the masters of Dragon Temple.”
“My master is inside Dragon Temple.”
“Then you cannot reach him. The temple is forbidden to our kind. However, next spring the masters and their students travel to Iron Mountain.”
“I want to go to Iron Mountain!”
“And so you shall,” said Judge Fang. He lifted his silk bag from the branch and began stuffing it with little items. I saw a mirror, some scrolls and yellow paper, lots of little jars, and a tiny dagger made of coins sewn tightly together with red cord. “But first you must perform some tasks for me.”
“I am good at jobs.” That was mostly true, even though I had failed my last two.
“Then it is settled,” said Judge Fang. “Come with me, and to thwart the evil of Burning Cloud Devil and Jade Tiger, together we shall gather an army of beasts and kami.”
Chapter Six
Eight-Figure Staff
Stand where you are, fiend!” The little guy thrust his finger at my face. If he’d been a few yards closer, I’d have bitten it off.
I was in no mood.
Truth was, I’d been in a foul temper since burying the boss’s remains. I’d always figured I’d be the one to die on one of his screwy Pathfinder expeditions. It was a wonder I hadn’t bought the acre a dozen times over just from our Egorian capers.
The worst part was that I spent the first few days hoping there was some crazy mix-up and the boss wasn’t dead after all. I’d made that mistake before, and I wasn’t in a hurry to make it again. The difference this time was that I found the body, or what was left of it.
Even burying him didn’t spare me from daydreaming of improbable scenarios in which the boss had escaped the dragon. It took me days of tramping behind Burning Cloud Devil before I could finally get my hands around the throat of that son of a bitch Hope. A couple of good twists shut him up, and I stopped fantasizing escape scenarios that left the boss alive somewhere.
On that first night, I wanted to do the same to Burning Cloud Devil. If he hadn’t lured me away, I could have gone after the boss. I thought about his guilt as I watched him snoring beside the fire he’d conjured. Did he need to speak to trigger his Quivering Palm whammy? A few days earlier, without warning, he’d hit me with it again.
Again I felt threads of energy streaming through my body from each point where his fingers had touched me. When I demanded, “What the hell?” he said it was an adjustment to be sure that I didn’t die while he went off in search of wine and food. I got the feeling he was lying, or at least not telling me the whole truth.
&nb
sp; Also, he had a neck thicker than a pig’s. I’d need to strangle him if I couldn’t break his spine with the first blow, and that could take a minute or longer. Plenty of time for him to kill me if it was as easy as he boasted.
Eventually I decided that if Burning Cloud Devil hadn’t showed up, the Falcon-Head Sword Gang would have turned me into minced meat. I shuddered at the thought of ending up in those little dumplings we ate back at the last roadside inn we’d visited before the disaster.
No matter what the bandits would have done with me, I wouldn’t have been free to go after the boss. When I thought about it that way, Burning Cloud Devil had saved my life. I should have thanked him, but I couldn’t muster the gratitude. After all, if I didn’t slay this dragon for him, he promised to kill me.
Before that, it turned out, he planned to spend a year torturing me.
After a couple of weeks, I’d had more than enough of his training exercises. They lasted from dawn until noon every day. They included strikes and kicks, not too different from the sort of thing I learned for myself on the streets of Egorian. The difference was that Burning Cloud Devil wanted them to look just so. He was more interested in my posture than in how hard I hit something. I explained my philosophy that what’s good is what gets the job done. He didn’t like that, and gave me one hell of a sermon about form and inner power.
I mostly ignored it, but that didn’t stop him. He pushed and pulled and poked at me to stand exactly as he did, to raise my arm with my wrist bent for no obviously good reason. I began to think he was having fun with me, posing me this way and that as some sort of private joke. Still, he seemed deadly serious.
Eventually I focused on getting it right just to keep his mitts off me. It wasn’t that I didn’t get what he was saying. It’s that when he wound himself up into a lecture he sounded a lot like the boss. I didn’t want to think about that, but I couldn’t help it.
