Master of Devils

by Dave Gross

  “Ah ...ah ...ah ...”

  Master Wu held up a dark red sliver in his bloody hand while someone else began sewing the flap of my belly closed. To escape the pain, I concentrated on the precision of the sutures. I could feel it was sloppy work and meant to say so, but even my lone syllable had vanished.

  I wondered what had become of Radovan. My irritation at his failure to find me slipped away. I hoped he would find his way home and framed a prayer that Desna smile on him. And on Arnisant, too. He was a good dog and had been with me far too short a time.

  Then I was calm. It was only a matter of waiting, and I was content to do so.

  Master Li interrupted me. I heard his whisper as from across a domed chamber.

  “...all I have left. You must help. Join your thoughts to your ...”

  Such an annoyance.

  I tried to ignore the warmth of his hands pressing down on my wound. Soon I would see my mother’s face, and I had so much to tell her. I liked to think she would have been proud of some of my accomplishments, and only she might forgive my gravest failings.

  The heat of Master Li’s touch began to itch, and he would not stop his incessant babble. “...must not abandon your duty! Your oath is to serve the temple and defend the princess. If Kwan will not give up, how can you ...?”

  Kwan must not survive, I thought. He was going to kill Princess Lanfen! No, I was confused. That was what Jade Tiger wanted me to think. Was that the reason he struck us both as we tried to protect her? I did not yet know the answer, but no one else knew of the eunuch’s scheme.

  I could not die before I had unraveled the mystery.

  Master Li’s voice grew louder and less comprehensible. It faded into the distance until I felt only the light of heaven suffusing my body, scattering my thoughts, and dissolving the last iota of my soul.

  On blood-washed decks, I have ordered men to shove the ravaged bodies of their brothers into the sea. In Sargava I stitched shut the open belly of my ensign to sustain the illusion that he might live without the viscera he’d left on the ground outside my tent. Trudging through the sucking mud of Isgeri battlefields, I searched for my commanding officer, finding only his insignia on a ragged shred of meat.

  None of those scenes prepared me for the aftermath of the slaughter within Iron Mountain. The ruined remains of the red-robed guardians littered the inner court. Despite the different colors of our attire, I could not help feeling the loss as if I were gazing upon the bodies of Dragon Temple disciples.

  Smoking tracks leading from the grand entrance hall hinted at the nature of the beings conjured from their mutilated bodies. Only black craters remained where their hearts had been.

  My recent brush with death gave me some idea of how they must have felt in their final moments. The fissures cut by Jade Tiger’s darts still ached within my belly. Only the combined ministrations of Masters Wu and Li had preserved my life—and that of my rival, Kwan.

  Others had not been so fortunate. Sixteen of the original twenty royal guards had survived the oni attack, four of them wounded beyond Master Li’s capacity to heal before our arrival at the gates of Iron Mountain. Of the fifty-four disciples who left Dragon Temple, forty-five remained.

  Master Li knelt beside the body of his brother, the former Master of Iron Mountain. Death had not diminished the resemblance between them. The dead brother had Master Li’s weathered skin, white hair and beard, and a familiar look of mild detachment, despite the grievous devastation of his body.

  Master Wu dispatched groups of brothers to investigate the adjoining chambers. With Karfai and Deming at my side, I searched an empty armory and a meditation chamber before discovering Brother Wen Zhao slumped over a scroll stand in the scriptorium.

  The traveling mystic-monk had been spared the physical debasement of his fellows, but he was no less dead. The brush at his feet was still wet. In one hand his corpse clutched a strip of parchment.

  “Burning Cloud Devil has returned,” I read. “He has summoned a terrible fiend. Su Chau sacrificed his life to stop it, but he failed. They have overwhelmed the bulwark. Soon I shall step out to face them, but first I must warn—”

  Whatever else he wrote was drowned in blood.

  “Check the other rooms.” Deming and Karfai obeyed without question.

  As I recalled the gregarious Su Chau, a cold shadow fell upon my heart. His boisterous familiarity, at first so offensive to my noble sensibilities, had left a void after his departure from Dragon Temple. I wished now that I had heard him tell another hundred stories last summer. Quain and all of Tian Xia shrank a little with his death.

  Whatever else befell us at the Gates of Heaven and Hell, I swore in the name of Asmodeus that I would slay the fiend who had murdered him.

  Searching the desk for further clues, I came upon an unsealed letter from Su Chau to Master Li. In it he praised the results of Master Wu’s martial instruction and Master Li’s indirect guidance in nurturing the talents of “a most unlikely foreign spirit.” Perhaps, he wrote, this Brother Jeggare would one day prove himself an instructor of the Sixth Subtle Art of Irori. Dragon Temple had been far too long without a master of the arcane.

  The accuracy of Su Chau’s prediction tightened my throat. Once I had calmed the unwelcome swell of sentiment, I realized that Master Li was both wiser and more subtle than I had estimated. How often had his frowns of displeasure propelled me toward the course he had secretly intended?

  Further in his missive, Su Chau hinted that Jade Tiger was not to be trusted, but he did not elaborate on the reason. I scanned the rest of his letter but found no mention of Kwan, Prince Tengfei, or Lingshen. If Master Li’s prescience served him as well in this matter as it had in developing my undisclosed talent for magic, he was already prepared.

  The thought was not entirely comforting. I still did not know whether it would prove wise that I had not confided in Master Li what I had learned of Kwan. It is a rare intellect capable of manipulating me without arousing my suspicion. Yet in Dragon Temple both the masters and Jade Tiger had employed me as a pawn to some unknown end.

  I considered whether Kwan was a player or another pawn. Perhaps he a was pawn who thought himself a player. The same could be true of me. For all that I had deduced, I still could not fathom the nature of the scheme about to unfold.

  How much Princess Lanfen had been a party to the game, I could not know. In my vanity, I hoped she was innocent of intrigue. In my experience, I knew such a hope was foolishness.

  None of the other materials in Su Chau’s study appeared pertinent to our mission. I blotted the blood from his last note and gathered it with his unsent letter. Perhaps they would be enough to arm Master Li against whichever royal scheme proved to be the true threat.

  I turned to leave, but Kwan stood in my path.

  Our gazes met, and we drew our swords with such synchronicity that I could not say who had moved first.

  I sought some clue of his intent within his eyes. They revealed nothing but resolve. I strove to make my own eyes a mirror of his determination. At last Kwan spoke.

  “What you know, you know. But how much can a foreigner understand?”

  I dislike gambling, but it was time to throw the dice. Lowering the point of my blade, I said, “I understand that your mission is not one of assassination but of unauthorized diplomacy.”

  The infinitesimal widening of Kwan’s eyes encouraged me to continue.

  “You mean to thwart the plot of another during the Dragon Ceremony. Afterward, you will reveal yourself to the princess to prove your goodwill.”

  Kwan sheathed his sword. “Among her father’s court, Princess Lanfen has long been a voice in support of peace. I would join my voice to hers.”

  I listened for any trace of deception in Kwan’s voice but heard none. Still, I had not forgotten the lesson of his trailing foot.
Like any prince, he was full of guile.

  And I did not like his phrasing. I suspected there was much more of himself that he would like to join with Princess Lanfen.

  I returned the Shadowless Sword to its scabbard. “You have not persuaded Jade Tiger of your good intentions. He meant to slay us both. The question is, why now? With a word he could have had either of us expelled from the temple.”

  “Not without explaining his reasons.”

  I considered that argument. “Do the temple masters know your true identity?”

  “Master Li suspects. One day he took me aside and recited an aphorism about young men.”

  “I know the one.”

  “Why did you not confront me after I fought the guards?” said Kwan.

  “To what end? Were you ready to confide in me?”

  “No, not until I saw Jade Tiger was willing to sacrifice your life as well as mine. I have long suspected you were the eunuch’s creature.”

  “He hoped to make me so.” A revelation came to me. “No, he hoped to make me appear so to you and the other disciples.”

  “What did he promise you?”

  “Spells,” I said. “I lost my book before arriving at Dragon Temple. But that was before the incident of the assassin. Later, when Master Li granted me access to the Persimmon Court, Jade Tiger tested me much as he later tested you.”

  “You have come to steal the pearl.” Kwan’s accusation surprised me as much for its suddenness as for its accuracy.

  “Not to steal it,” I said. “I will beg the king to grant me its husk, after Princess Lanfen has made her wish.”

  As I had done earlier, Kwan searched my face for any trace of deception. He nodded, accepting my word. “What does Jade Tiger wish? As Lanfen’s guardian, he has had a thousand opportunities to murder her.”

  “He seeks to usurp the ceremony and take the wish for himself.” The answer seemed so obvious now.

  “Impossible,” said Kwan. “The King of Heroes himself tried to do the same, but his wife and he had already consummated their love. The Celestial Dragon offers its heart and grants its wish only to a mortal maiden.”

  “Perhaps Jade Tiger means to force the princess to make his wish for him?”

  “Impossible. Princess Lanfen is as perfect in her courage as she is in beauty and wisdom.”

  Kwan could have made no clearer declaration of his admiration. I was more certain than ever that he hoped for more than diplomatic favor when he revealed his identity. But he had forgotten one important fact. “Princess Lanfen granted me the Shadowless Sword.”

  “Only to defy the eunuch. She must suspect his treachery.”

  “Jade Tiger promised you the sword, didn’t he?”

  Kwan’s fierce reaction told me I was wrong. He lifted his chin in a gesture of affront so noble that I could not believe I had mistaken him for anything less than a prince. Nearly a century of courtly life took over. Before I could stop myself, I bowed.

  “My apologies, Your Highness.”

  “You are not a man of Lingshen. I am not your prince.”

  “No,” I agreed. “But at last I understand you are my brother.”

  He gripped my arm. “Brother Jeggare, help me safeguard the life of Princess Lanfen.”

  I returned his grip. “Brother Kwan, I swear upon my life.”

  We had only a moment to scheme before Master Wu’s deep voice summoned us back to the bulwark. Those who remained in the great hall had covered the desecrated bodies of the Iron Mountain Guardians and moved them to a place of honor. Master Li stood beside the shrouded figure of his brother, his fingers working a string of prayer beads as his lips moved in prayer.

  I left him to his mourning and delivered the papers I had found to Master Wu. He squinted to see Kwan standing beside me, but his eyes widened after a glance at the papers. Kwan and I bowed and withdrew as he read over them a second time.

  Kwan approached the princess. Her remaining guards closed ranks before her, but she spoke a command and they allowed him to kneel at her feet. As Kwan spoke, the eunuch leaned forward to hear his every word.

  Just as we had planned.

  Far behind the royal entourage, I discreetly discharged a flying scroll. Its magic activated, a ghostly image of a hand appeared above my natural appendage. In a moment it vanished from sight, but I could feel its invisible digits. I willed them fly across the room to pluck the eunuch’s fan from his sash.

  Years of observing Radovan’s pocket-picking technique guided my magic touch. The eunuch’s fan glided gently to my hand. Quickly, I performed my intended task and sent the fan back to the eunuch’s sash. He felt its return and stepped away from the guard he imagined had brushed against his hip.

  I returned to the masters, my signal to Kwan that his diversion was no longer required.

  Master Li was returning Wen Zhao’s pages to Master Wu. “There is no time for accusations and examinations. We must ascend now to the Gates of Heaven and Hell.”

  Master Wu bowed. He turned to bellow out our orders. “Gather beside your brothers. Safeguard the princess at all costs. From any attack.”

  We formed ranks at the base of the ascending staircase. Mon Choi stood to my left, Kwan to my right.

  Together we began the long march up toward the Gates of Heaven and Hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Quivering Palm

  Squatting on a stony ridge miles above the base of the Wall of Heaven Mountains, I looked down at the Court of Heaven and Hell.

  My ruined eyes made out the blurry shape of three giant stone fingers jutting into the clouds. Between them they held a misty smear the size of an Egorian plaza. Along the edges stood statues of weird lions and some scaly cross between a dog and a stag. Those I could see as bright as moonlight. There was magic in them. I counted twenty-two of the things, plus a couple of empty spaces to either side. They hadn’t stirred when we poured out of the archway in one of the three stone columns.

  From above, the platform didn’t look any more solid than the clouds. Fog ran across the surface to vanish over the edges. No matter how much poured off, it never cleared.

  “Where are the gates?”

  “Patience,” said Burning Cloud Devil. “We wait for the princess to open them.”

  I stood to stretch my back. On either side of me crouched a dozen devils. Like the magic guardians below, they appeared bright and sharp to my damaged eyes. Only they weren’t made out of moonlight. They were gargoyles carved out of fire.

  A few of the fallen angels hid behind the rocky pillars. Before they went, one with a face that reminded me of a sweet-hearted Thuvian whore tipped me a wink. I knew better, but I almost smiled back until I noticed the grubby devil wriggling in her talons.

  “Be still,” said Burning Cloud Devil. “They come.”

  The last dark angel flew up from her position beside the door. Except for the mist-hushed beat of her wings, her retreat was silent.

  Burning Cloud Devil did his magic. He’d told us to stay close so his spell would conceal us all, but the only effect I noticed was a slight dimming of the devils beside me. I looked back at the sorcerer and saw nothing. We were invisible.

  “Remember,” he whispered. “Stay with me until the guardians are scattered.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I’d heard it plenty of times on our long journey up the stairs. We passed eight radiant archways, and each time I got the same funny tickling sensation I felt when we were first teleported from the other side of Golarion to Tian Xia.

  I heard the chime of a gong. It sounded at regular intervals, setting the pace for a march. After a while I smelled the incense. Soon, the first monks emerged from the arch and spread out across the platform.

  Most of them were gray-and-white blurs, but some were red-capped black blurs carryin
g what had to be spears. They kept close to a couple of slender figures I took for women. One was a bit taller than the other, and pale as a ghost except for sparkling gems on her fingers.

  They took a place near the center of the platform. Facing them, a couple of monks in white—one short and slim with a white beard, the other stocky and dark—stood with an honor guard of six of their lackeys.

  The red and gray fellows looked in all directions. They had to know we were nearby after seeing Burning Cloud Devil’s handiwork downstairs. Still, they didn’t seem to see us.

  The four figures in the center seemed to be the principals. I could hear their voices but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Whatever it was, Burning Cloud Devil gripped my arm, muttering, “Good, good. They know the danger, but they choose to proceed.”

  The ones near the center moved back, leaving only the shorter woman and the white-robed monks near the middle. The white monks touched something at their chests. The moonlight outline of the missing statues appeared around them, trembling like a reflection on water. They growled, turned around a few times, and loped over to their spaces with the others. All the statues stirred, shrugging and stretching their backs: ready for action.

  The white-haired monk sang out. I understood some of the words, but he must have been speaking some ancient version of Tien. To me, it was all opera.

  The woman replied. Her voice was young and kind of sweet, but the poor kid couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Whatever else happened, I hoped she had sense enough to run when it came down.

  Thankfully, her solo was short. She produced some dark object, sat with it on her lap, and began to play. Unlike her singing, the music from her harp or lyre or whatever was gorgeous. It made me wish even more that I could see her face. There wasn’t a melody, not like those I know from back home, but there was some kind of magic in those strings. I felt it sweep over me in relaxing waves. My eyelids felt heavy, but I shook my head to stay alert.

  A harsh chord snapped me out of my little trance. Instead of the angelic tones she’d used to lure me in, now the musician tortured me with rank and jumbled notes. The sound made me want to jump down and smash her instrument, give her a smack across the face.