by Kirk Zurosky
“Are you trying to tell me something—” I started, before the old man waved a dismissive hand.
“Ah, you need to ignore the idle ramblings of an old man,” Lobsang said. “Back to Kunchen. When a Duga Paw disciple comes of age, which to them is the disciple’s eighteenth summer, they are given their final task, which, if successfully completed, is the last step before they are admitted to the group and pass from disciple to master.”
“Let me guess. The final test is suffering through the body tattooing, which from the look of Kunchen, probably takes about two straight weeks, right?” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lobsang said. “They get their tattoos right after they master each weapon the tattoo symbolizes. That happens right before they are given the final test. They master a weapon a day, until the weapons tests are complete, in theory . . .”
“In theory,” I pressed.
“Yes, until Kunchen was born, no Duga Paw disciple, or member of the sect current or past, had ever achieved mastery of all the weapons, and thus gotten all the weapon tattoos,” Lobsang explained. “Most Duga Paw members have just one or two tattoos for their chosen weapon of specialty, and even the weapons master himself has only four.”
“Then I would think that the final test was nothing to him,” I said. “But that is not what happened, right?”
“It was anything but nothing,” Lobsang agreed. “The final test for the disciples is for them to find and eliminate that which is their greatest danger.”
“That is something that will certainly mean different things to different people,” I said. “Do the Duga Paw watch the disciples during this final test to see if they pass it?”
“Indeed, they do,” Lobsang said. “The disciple’s personal master is the one charged to see what the disciple does, or doesn’t do.”
“Doesn’t do?” I said. “You have to do something, or you are out of the running, right?”
Lobsang nodded. “Some disciples are paralyzed with indecision and never take any kind of action,” he said. “In some cases, inaction is action, but not in this one. There is an answer to the question. The test can be successfully completed.”
“So what happens to those that do nothing?” I asked. “Do they kill them for their failure?”
“Oh no, just the opposite,” Lobsang said. “Life is precious to the Duga Paw. Just because they failed doesn’t mean that they cannot contribute in some way to the good of the sect. Though some are so consumed by their failure, they forever banish themselves from the sect of their own volition. Most throw down their weapons and pick up the tools of the farm, which are equally honorable to wield, and a select few do remain to help train the disciples.”
“I don’t think Kunchen did nothing,” I said. “He doesn’t seem like the do nothing type.”
Lobsang did not acknowledge what I had said. “What do you think the greatest danger to yourself is?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “But I am guessing that some use the test as a way to exact revenge on a romantic rival or even a fellow disciple. You know, because even disciples are people.”
“Good guess, indeed,” Lobsang said. “More disciples than you think come to the conclusion that the only way to pass the test is to be the last disciple standing. Their master incapacitates them before any harm comes to pass. These men are then banished to a distant land, where they spend the rest of their days in solitude, farming to support the sect.”
“Wouldn’t they just leave or try for revenge again?” I said.
“Remember the wolves?” Lobsang said.
“Like I could forget them,” I replied.
“The wolves keep them where they are,” Lobsang said. “The same fate befalls those who try to end the life of a romantic rival or a long-hated sibling.” He paused and reached for a cup of tea and drank from it long and deep. “Ah,” he said, content, and sat quietly staring at me.
“Not Kunchen either,” I hinted, waiting for Master Lobsang to speak.
“No,” Lobsang replied.
“Are you going to tell me?” I asked.
“I needed the tea first,” Lobsang said.
I laughed. “Is it that bad?” I joked, but the somber look on Lobsang’s face quickly shut me up. “I am sorry—it is Kunchen, so of course it is. Please continue, Master Lobsang.”
“Twenty disciples in the history of the Duga Paw have decided that the greatest danger to themselves was their master and challenged them to a fight to the death,” Lobsang said. “Nineteen times the master won the fight, but the twentieth—”
“Was Kunchen,” I said quietly, as Lobsang nodded. “So why didn’t the other masters just kill him on the spot?”
“They were watching their own charges,” Lobsang said. “And it was only later, when it was too late, that they realized what Kunchen truly thought was the ultimate danger to himself. After killing his master, he journeyed to the unprotected Duga Paw village and slaughtered every man, woman, and child who was kin to him in any way. When the masters returned to the village and saw the carnage he had wreaked, they also saw a smiling, blood-covered Kunchen convinced he had passed the final test. He did not fight them as they bound him, gagged him, and placed him in a deep hole, as he was convinced they were just testing him once again. But he had, of course, failed.”
“I guess the killing of the master is foreseeable,” I said. “And clearly, it had been attempted before. But why did he say he killed those innocent people?”
“You are an assassin,” Lobsang said. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“You said it yourself, Master,” I replied. “I haven’t finished or, I guess, started my education.”
“Well said,” Lobsang said proudly. “Kunchen killed anyone he felt could be used as a weapon against him. To him, an assassin who is vulnerable to someone that has taken his family hostage is no assassin at all. So, if he had no family tied to him, he would be the ultimate Duga Paw assassin.”
“That is some incredibly twisted thinking,” I said. “And that must be why they sent him here. They had absolutely no idea what to do with him, and sparing his life was the final hope that he would recognize the sanctity of life, right?”
“Pretty much,” Lobsang answered.
“But you don’t know what to do with him either,” I said. “If he doesn’t die, others are sure to.”
“Pretty much,” Lobsang said again.
“What is the solution to the test?” I asked. “Are you going to tell me, since I am not going to be a Duga Paw?”
“Yes, I will tell you,” Lobsang said. “But only because it is a perfect lesson for you to learn. The greatest danger to you is yourself. Never forget this maxim, for it is always true. The few disciples that are actually fully indoctrinated into the Duga Paw realize this after a solid week of meditation, and instantly pull out their swords to go for the kill stroke on themselves.”
“And that is why the masters are watching them,” I said. “To save them from themselves.”
“Indeed,” Lobsang said. “I think now it would be best for you to retire to your chambers to get the rest you are going to need for tomorrow. Choden can be a harsh taskmaster.”
The next day I was awakened at dawn by Choden, thankfully with his robe closed this time, and we began the long walk to the monk’s training chamber, with Garlic running alongside us stopping now and again as she investigated the many smells of the huge monastery. We entered the chamber, and I smiled knowingly at the ceiling that stretched high in the air and the various ropes, pulleys, and swings that hung there, idle for the moment. One wall of the chamber was made of the exposed stone of the mountainside, and I could see numerous handholds and footholds had been carved into it. The remainder of the chamber was almost the exact twin of my father’s training area on Sa Dragonera, replete with sparring mats, racks filled with weapons both wooden
and real, and raised blocks and rails for climbing and balancing drills.
I walked over to the climbing wall and reached up to grasp a handhold. I tried to pull myself up with one hand, but found my arm shaking fiercely at something I used to do without thinking. When would I recover my strength? It had better be when, not if! Garlic barked, and I watched her jumping easily from rail to block and back to rail in a speedy white blur. A few days ago she had been lying on her side, but now the eternal energy of the pugnacious puppy was on full display.
Choden’s mouth dropped open as she scurried up the climbing wall, smacked a bell at the top with her tail, and somersaulted to a perfect landing at our feet. “Wait until Norbu sees her!” he exclaimed. “What a magnificent creature she is!”
Garlic rolled onto her back and offered her belly to the massive monk, who enveloped her with one hand as he rubbed her. Flattery worked for Garlic as with any female, I mused. I left Choden and Garlic to have their moment and jumped onto the balancing course. I made it nearly all the way through at half-speed before I had to jump off when my balance failed me. I smiled and shook my head in mock anger at myself, for that was the best I had felt since the Raksha attack.
“I don’t know what was more impressive, Master Sinister,” a voice said from behind me. “That vampire dog climbing the wall or you nearly making your way through our hardest balancing course with the poison of the Rakshas only just gone from your body.”
I turned and saw the monk that had brought me my raw feast, staring me up and down. “I am Norbu,” he said. “I am the trainer. It is my duty to get you back to full strength, which, from the look of what I just saw, should not take me long.” How could this crippled monk train me? He limped over to where Choden was still playing with Garlic and placed a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “Choden, I think her belly is quite recovered, yes?”
Choden laughed. “Indeed Norbu, indeed,” he replied. “Probably not what Master Lobsang had in mind, but good for the soul nonetheless.”
Norbu clapped his hands. “First we strengthen the body,” he said. “Choden will take you through our training drills and see how you do. Once you have your strength, we will move on to balancing, climbing, and finally fighting.”
Choden bowed his head. “It will be so,” he said. He looked at me as Norbu left the chamber. “You may have lived a lot longer than Norbu and I combined—”
“And then some,” I interjected.
“But perhaps we can teach even an old master like you a few new tricks.”
“That is what makes a master a master,” I said. “Of course, if I turned my will and desire to be the best warrior and assassin toward a more scholarly focus, I probably would not have gotten myself into so much trouble over the last few centuries.”
“I can only imagine what adventures you have had,” Choden said wistfully. “Perhaps, Master Sinister, you could enlighten us with a few tales after training?”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But before we begin, I have to ask. What happened to Norbu? I gather at one point he was a fearsome warrior. Was it the Rakshas?”
Choden’s eyes looked to the ground, and his face darkened as he was clearly reliving past pain. He looked back up at me. “There have been others before the Thief that have come to the monastery to try and take the Dagger of Dorje. None have succeeded. But sometimes we disciples have paid the price with our bodies and our lives.”
“Norbu.”
Choden sighed and nodded. “Here in the monastery, close to the Dagger, our bodies are somewhat protected by the ravages of time. We live long past the time of ordinary mortals. As for Master Lobsang, no one knows how old he is since he was here before all of us. I don’t even think he knows. But the farther we stray from the monastery and the power of the Dagger the more vulnerable we are.”
“So what happened?”
“Norbu and I were bringing up a load of supplies from the village down the mountain when we were set upon by a horde of goblins right in front of the monastery just as I gave the command for the other disciples to open the gates and let us in,” Choden said. “We ran for the gate, but it was closing quickly. I barely made it inside and pushed it all the way closed and turned to look for Norbu. But Norbu was our best warrior, and in an attempt to save me, he had run and attacked the goblins.”
“Norbu took on an entire horde of goblins by himself?” I said in disbelief. “He did not have a chance!”
Choden nodded. “And he knew it, but he caught them off guard. I wanted to help him, but Master Lobsang ordered me to stay inside the gate. And then came the Rakshas.”
“And the goblins turned to animal form to fight the Rakshas,” I said. “Right?”
“They sure did,” Choden answered. “But even as the Rakshas ripped the goblins limb from limb, the goblins did not stop trying to kill Norbu. They were under some sort of spell of regeneration.”
“I know,” I said, remembering my battle in Port Royal long ago against those same ensorcelled goblin warriors. “You can literally cut them to pieces, but they will keep coming and coming when wealth and power is at stake.”
“Eventually the Rakshas just threw the pieces of goblin off the cliff, where they either regenerated themselves and departed or were devoured by the wolves. Either way they were never seen again.”
“So the goblins crippled Norbu, in spite of the Rakshas’ attack,” I said.
Choden shook his head. “No, there was one goblin—well he was not quite a goblin—and he survived the Rakshas’ attack.”
“What do you mean not quite a goblin?”
“He was a warlock, and he cast a spell that kept the Rakshas from touching him, and as he fled, he brought down a great rockslide with his magic, and that was what crippled noble Norbu.”
“Murfield!” I grimaced in disgust. “If only we had finished him off for good when we had the chance!”
“You know of this warlock?” Choden asked. “How? Tell me all you know!” He seemed almost frantic, and his huge hands grabbed my shoulders and shook me like a rag doll. I ignored the pain the big man’s embrace caused, and slid out of his grasp.
“We have crossed paths before,” I said. “His name is Andrew Murfield. He is half goblin, half warlock, and all evil. Two hundred years ago we clashed in Port Royal, Jamaica. He was going to marry one of my ex-wives’ sister against her will. Some companions and I broke up the wedding ceremony and ultimately escaped with the goblins’ gold.”
“Did you have an army of companions?” Choden said, obviously impressed. “How did you take their gold?”
“Just a whole lot of immortals,” I answered, not wanting to go into great details about the Bogeyman, the Howler, or Garlic’s wormholes for that matter. “The gold went by one of my ex-wives’ ships.”
“You said wives, right?” Choden asked. “You have had many chosen ones at once?”
I laughed. “No, not all at once,” I said with a grin. “And none of them were chosen, well maybe the last one, but I had to divorce her and go to the Underworld to save Garlic.” I saw Choden’s face contort as he was trying to digest all I had just told him. It was time to change the subject, or I would be here all day telling my tales. “So no Healer could help Norbu?”
“He was merely broken, not poisoned,” Choden said. “Thus the Dagger of Dorje chose no Healer.”
“And yet, you blame yourself for what happened to Norbu,” I said. “Don’t you?”
Choden looked at me in surprise. “Why do you say that? There was nothing I could do. Lobsang ordered me to stay in the temple. Obeying the Master is one of the highest duties of a disciple.”
“You were a man before you were a disciple,” I said. “A man fights for his own. Simple as that—you wanted to fight alongside Norbu even if it meant your death. Duty be damned.”
Choden went silent for a moment. “All right vampire, another day you will tell me
all you know of where I can find this Andrew Murfield, yes?” he said, a weak smile creasing his face. I nodded in agreement to his request, but I would never tell him where to find Murfield because it would mean his death. A death I did not want on my hands.
“Are you ready for some training?” he said.
“I cannot wait, Choden,” I said, rolling up my sleeves. “It is time I begin the journey home.”
For the next week, Choden and I trained under Norbu’s watchful eye. The first week of training left me a tired, sweaty heap of trembling arms and wobbling legs that barely carried me back to my chamber. I was thankful for the breaks I got when Choden left training to meditate and prepare himself for being with his chosen one, and another disciple took his place. I didn’t know who the lucky young lady was who was Choden’s chosen one, but I sure hoped she was built to handle what the gods had given Choden. No amount of meditation was going to prepare that girl for seeing Choden in all his glory on their wedding night—that was for sure!
My strength finally returned, and at the end of the two weeks, my constitution was such that I could take on Choden and a dozen disciples and hold my own. If I was honest with myself, those were the two longest weeks of my life. Even when I was chained in the dungeon at Peel Castle for those many years, I still had my health, but the Raksha poison was something else entirely. At the end of our final training session, Choden backed away from the others and bowed deeply. “Master Lobsang charged us with healing Sirius Sinister and Garlic,” he said. “Let me be the first to say—the Master Assassin has returned!” The assembled disciples erupted into a great cheer. I beamed in delight. Garlic was so excited to see me back to my old self that she contented herself with doing flip after flip off the walls and swings.
I clenched my fists tightly, feeling the coiled power within me, and looked to Norbu and Choden. “Thank you,” I said. “I need to see Master Lobsang. I am ready now for the journey home.”
“We will be sad to see you go,” Master Lobsang said, standing right behind me. I jumped instinctively to the delight of Norbu and Choden. Perhaps I did need to stay a little while longer to learn some more of Master Lobsang’s tricks. I wanted to know how it was possible that he could sneak up undetected on a master assassin!
