by Paul Heisel
#
Caleth looked up from his desk, giving his weary eyes a rest. Additional reports had arrived from the Grand Master, telling of the unrest he had suspected in the other monasteries. There was talk of a disease growing within the organization, monks who wanted to rebel against the current leadership and begin their own empire. They wanted nothing to do with the current regime and desired a complete split from the Accord of the Hand. The Grand Master didn’t know who these rebel monks were, but he had his suspicions. Kara and Djaa were the two under the most scrutiny, and that meant two fifths of the Empire by population would cease to be part of the Accord of the Hand, and so would their armies and resources. Civil war could break out, leaving the Accord of the Hand vulnerable. It made Caleth feel hollow inside knowing their livelihood could be in jeopardy. A knock at the door startled him out of his pensive trance. An aide stuck his head in and he had an odd look on his face. He motioned toward what would be the entrance to the offices.
“Yes?”
“There is a woman here looking for Owori,” the aide said. “She’s insistent that she must see her. I told her she was no longer here, but she insists on speaking with her. Now she wants to speak with you – she knows you by name. What do you want me to tell her?”
“Any deception?”
“No, she looks like she couldn’t harm a fly. Demure, well dressed. She’s important wherever she comes from, or that’s what I think. Maybe a diplomat or wealthy merchant. No weapons that we can see.”
“You’re usually correct. Send her in, but bring guards and put them just outside the door.”
“Yes master. One more thing. She has a different accent. I can’t place where she’s from.”
“Thanks. Send her in.”
Caleth secured the reports he was reading in locked drawer. After donning his Master of Autumn robes, he stepped in front of the desk. The aide returned with a woman who was dressed in an expensive blue velvet cloak that covered her body from head to toe. She wasn’t that tall, but wasn’t short. It was hard to see her face because of her curly blond hair and the cowl, but what he could see looked attractive to him.
“Well met, I’m Caleth, Master of Autumn, how may I help you?”
“My name is Suun.” She bowed. “I have come looking for a woman named Owori. I was told by several monks that she no longer lives here. Do you know where she went?”
“Where are you from?”
“You shouldn’t be concerned with that. I have a message for her and her alone.”
Caleth wondered what this Suun was up to, and he determined it wasn’t any good. The aide had observed correctly that she seemed demure and harmless, but she was disguised cleverly to be that way. The cloak hid her body well, and she was stooping to seem shorter. Caleth bet his life there was a blade or two hidden. She was calm and confident, and her eyes were an icy blue. Not only could this woman fight, she could kill. He put himself on the defensive, wishing now he had put the desk between him and her.
“Give the message to me and I will see that she gets it,” he said.
“I can only deliver it to her. Where is she?”
The tactical error Caleth made was irreversible. He shouldn’t have said that he would give it to her. “She’s on an errand. She’ll return.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. I’ll make sure she gets it. It’ll be safe with me. I’ll hold it until I see her again.”
“It isn’t a message you can hold. It can only be told. The message must stay with you until you see her.”
Caleth nodded. “If it’s for Owori, then she’s the only one who shall hear it.”
Suun stood up straighter and removed the cowl, letting her blonde curls spill out. “The message is from Feln. He said I could trust you and Owori only. Don’t relay this message to anyone other than Owori. If you do, I’m coming back for another visit.”
Caleth suppressed any inkling of surprise. “You know Feln?”
“In a manner, yes, I know him.”
“Then you know that he’s dead.”
“Far from it. The message you are to give Owori is as follows. She will understand it, you may not. Do not repeat it to anyone else. ‘Owori, I’m alive and well. I can’t explain where I am, but I will come for you soon. I promise not to spend so much time in the library.’”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. Unless you have anything else you want to tell me, I must go. I have my duties to attend to.”
“Where’s Feln?”
“I can’t answer that.” Suun motioned toward the door. “May I leave?”
“No. If you know where Feln is, then you have to tell me.”
“He’s well, that is all I can tell you. May I leave, or do I need to fight my way out of here?”
Considering the confidence she held and his intuition, Caleth knew that provoking her was a bad idea. “Of course you may leave. Do you need an escort? Transportation?”
“None, thank you.” She bowed and strode through the door.
Caleth motioned to the guards who had been waiting outside. Follow.
Caleth stood there, repeating the message in his head so he wouldn’t forget it. He would have to tell Owori in weeks, even months from now. He would have no contact with her until her mission was complete and she was in Sabrin with the Grand Master. The notion of writing her in Bora came and went, as no one was supposed to know where she had gone. It would endanger her safety, so he couldn’t take that risk. Besides, after she was expelled, he had spread a few rumors that she had gone into one of the larger kingdoms. For now, it seemed, he would just have to wait to deliver the message.
He was delighted to hear that Feln was alive, and it burned him that he didn’t know what had happened. A monk disappears from a fight without explanation, only to appear months later through a strange messenger? The story would have to be bizarre and interesting, and Caleth figured one day he would get to hear it. After unlocking the drawer and taking out the day's documents, Caleth sat down at the desk and continued reviewing the information. What he read was more details about the Grand Master’s suspicions. The Accord of the Hand was on the brink of a critical change, a shift in the balance of power and a change in their way of thinking. The observations from friendly monks in the other monasteries inferred that there were secret training grounds and portions of monasteries off limits to all but the most privileged of monks. Along with the rumors came eyewitness account of monks using fire, magic, in greater numbers than one would expect. Reflecting, he had no formal training in finding chi, but he did know how to meditate deeply and how to expand the magic once it was found. It worried him that Kara or Djaa knew more about magic than he, and now they were going to use it against the Accord of the Hand. A bloody civil war fought with magic could only end badly for those without the magic. The first obstacle to the critical change was the Accord leadership, so the threat would start there. Their laws, though, were complicated when it came to the death of the Grand Master or one of the Seasons. It was complex so that conspirators couldn’t remove more than one leader by assassination. Either he, Seveth, or the Grand Master would be the target. If that was their plan, then only one of them could die.
An hour later a knock came at the door and the aide shuffled through. He looked spent. “She figured the guards were following her and she ran once she got outside of the city. Three of us chased her and we lost her in the forest. I can’t fathom how she eluded us.”
“No matter,” Caleth said, dismissing it. “I only wanted to see where she would go. I didn’t think you would lose complete track of her, though. I was hoping she would go to an inn or go to a home or business.”
“She vanished.”
“Get water and return. Bring TeBroo with you. We have much to attend to.”
“Yes, we have a full agenda today. We’re a bit behind on tax collection because of the fracas with Borgard. We’ll get back on track.”
“That isn’t important now,” Caleth said. “We
need to talk about bolstering the defenses of this monastery.”
The aide’s eyebrows went up. “Master?”
“Go, I’ll explain in a moment. Don’t forget, bring TeBroo.”
#
The outskirts of Bora were flat plains dotted with numerous farms and ranches. The paved roads were busy with traffic. People flocked here for opportunities because there was order in the Accord of the Hand cities. Fairness was abundant for merchants and businessmen alike. Merchants could do business without fear of thieves, as the Hand kept an iron grip on the city and enforced the laws, businessmen could make deals and find investors without worrying about security. If it was sanctioned by the monastery, then there wouldn’t be any problems. As Owori walked through town, merchants gave her fruit and bread without asking for payment. They bowed with uncommon respect because she was dressed as a monk. Many others stopped and wished her well in her travels. Owori wasn’t sure what to think about the public attention and additional respect. It made her wonder what Kara was doing. She found a leather maker, after several discreet inquiries to find the right one, and told him that she would come back in the future to get new shoes. He told her that she would be welcome to purchase any of his goods. She told him that she was from Waskhal and had business at the monastery. As she walked away he waved, and she knew the leather maker would get a message to Caleth that she had arrived.
She was curious about several things – the magic Kara had shown, the underlying mystery of it, and what it meant for the Accord of the Hand. Kara had discovered a different magic, and that begged the question; what were Kara’s intentions? Did she want to destroy the Grand Master and take his place? There were so many questions, so few answers. From here it would only become more dangerous for her. Any notion of this being easy were cast aside.
Ahead the monastery loomed. It was set atop a hill and the property surrounded by a stout wall. The hill was terraced, and Owori could see laborers tilling the soil. Monks oversaw the work, issuing orders to the mass of workers. The entrance to the monastery was at the end of a winding path, which took a long time to navigate. There was a constant stream of merchants, people, wagons, and wares going in and out of the gates. This caught her off guard, and she wondered if the other monasteries knew how prosperous Bora was. It was more like a small kingdom than a monastery, and what was going on at the monastery astonished her. A host of laborers – hundreds, perhaps thousands – were constructing new outer walls. There were stone blocks, massive in size, being set into place by man and beast. It looked as if they were half finished encasing the old monastery with a new outer skin. The blocks were a sandy color and stout. Detail had been carved in relief, Owori noting there seemed to be a serpentine theme. A chill went up her back.
Like Kara’s tattoo.
Snakes.
She walked past the construction and found the entrance to the monastery proper. There was a crowd of people in line to get inside the monastery, and there were food stands and merchants selling goods in the open areas. She had never seen so much activity this close to the monastery! This was nothing like Waskhal – all of this happened in the city, not the monastery grounds! Owori slipped through the crowds and made her way to the front where she found another monk. She explained that she had an invitation to see Kara. After waiting for a half hour, she was taken deeper inside the monastery. There was lavishness here, opulence that surprised her. This was more like a king’s castle than a simple monastery. Caleth worked in a burned-out church, refurbished and decorated with few accoutrements and those old damaged frescos. He lived in a cloister with the rest of the monks, albeit with a larger room than most. Waskhal was nothing like this. The escort explained that he was taking her to Kara's new quarters, and that renovations in this area had been completed just a week ago. They arrived at a hand-carved door. It was dark wood with slithering snakes that gave it depth and distinct chill. Already Owori was worried.
This would be the hardest part. This would determine the rest of her time here, and she hoped Kara would accept her. If it didn’t work out, she would be on her way to Sabrin with nothing to report but failure. Inside the room, she saw Kara, face expressionless, staring at papers on her desk. The room was extravagant, decorated with tapestries and quaint paintings of different landscapes. There were orange satin pillows and a full-size bed, ornate bookcases and small carvings of monks in various fighting stances done in alabaster. It was excessive by anyone’s standards, outlandish by Accord of the Hand standards.
“When I was told a few moments ago that you wanted to see me, I could hardly believe it,” Kara spoke, not looking up from the papers. She took the documents and slid them into a square leather pouch. Kara crossed her arms and sat back. Her face was stone.
“Well met,” Owori said, bowing.
“Pleasantries?” she scoffed. “Well met it is then.”
“There is no sense in skirting the issue of why I’m here,” Owori said. “I have come here because I have been expelled from Waskhal. No doubt that news will reach you soon enough if it hasn’t already. I have no home and I recall you offering me a place here.”
“Expelled? Why were you expelled?”
“They expelled me because they thought I was dishonest, that I had cheated to become one of the Dragonmasters,” Owori explained. “They told me that I was reckless, their expulsion of me was swift and without giving me a second chance. I did nothing wrong, I didn't cheat. I won’t waste my life, or my magic, on the teachings at Waskhal any longer. I have come to accept your invitation that you offered. I want to learn about magic and I want you to teach me. I don’t want to be held back by those who don’t understand our talents.”
Kara’s stone expression didn’t change. Owori glanced at Kara’s snake tattoo. The green color pulsated with life and throbbed with hidden power. Owori rubbed her hands, but didn’t look at her unfinished tattoos.
“What’s the real reason you are here?” Kara asked. “Don't lie to me, because I will know.”
Owori dipped her head. She couldn’t hide the underlying truth. No, she wasn’t going to reveal that she was going to spy on Kara to determine what was going on. She would still be loyal to Caleth and the Grand Master. The truth was she was curious about her magic and what her unfinished tattoos meant. It could lead to knowledge about her family, her mother and father, who had died so long ago when she was young. Did she have aunts and uncles somewhere? Grandparents? Cousins? An extended family?
“I want to know about my magic and these tattoos,” Owori stated. She lifted her head and stood straight. She could see that Kara's mood had softened.
“And the expulsion from Waskhal?”
“They said I received help on my written exams and that's the reason I was forced to leave in disgrace. It was my word against theirs, and Caleth was insistent that I be expelled. There was no way I was going to win that confrontation.”
“Interesting…”
“I don’t know if it had any bearing on the decision to expel me, but while I was fighting one of the Dragonmasters who had come from Sabrin to test me, something happened with my magic.”
Kara stared at her. “What happened?”
“I was able to strike the Dragonmaster without touching him. It was as if my magic hit him for me.”
There was a hint of recognition in Kara’s eyes, a slight twitch and tiny smile that Owori detected before Kara could cover it up. The next moments that passed by were tense. Owori hoped the discussion on being expelled would end today.
“You must believe me, I didn’t cheat, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Owori offered. “I’m not stupid…I didn’t need to cheat to pass the written trials. They had proof, the proctor said I brought materials with me, which I didn't. It was my word against his.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Kara said. “When people don’t understand your talents, magical or intellectual, they will always find ways to discredit you or belittle your accomplishments. I’m sure the Dragonmaster you h
it with your magic protested too.”
“He did.” It was time to move forward. “What happens now?”
“Oh, so quick to assume I have accepted you and forgiven you for your behavior in Borgard?”
“Regardless of the past,” Owori spoke, “you won't deny me and you'll let me join you so I can learn about my magic.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you want to know what I can do. You want to understand my potential.” Owori stood stiffly, taking deep soothing breaths. It was a gamble to pander to Kara's greed. There was a long silence, neither spoke.
“First you must endure a series of interviews and tests. It’ll determine who should be your teacher. There is a full spectrum of magic employed here, and we want to bring out the best you have.”
“You won't be disappointed,” Owori said.
“I’m certain of that. I’ll have a servant take you to temporary quarters until we can get you settled. You’ll need new clothes, but that can wait until you’ve finished with the interviews. You never know what might happen. I might change my mind tomorrow and have you thrown out into the street.”
“I'm not that easy to get rid of,” she told her.
Kara nodded. “You are a handful. That be all for now.”
“Thank you for this opportunity. You have my thanks.”
“Oh don’t thank me yet. You haven’t passed the tests. If you don’t pass the tests, you’ll be outside of these walls and in the street, even if I want you to stay. Don’t hold back. Don’t fail these tests, because it doesn’t matter what I want. The instructors make the final decision on what happens to you. Now go, I have a long day ahead of me.”
Owori was shown to temporary quarters, a pleasant room with a view out one of the windows. Unfortunately, all she could see were laborers putting up the new outer walls. She didn’t mind, though, as there was more for her to do. The leather maker she contacted earlier would send information to Caleth on her behalf. This assumed that she would get outside of the monastery and into the city every so often. Now she wondered if Kara would allow her outside of the monastery after she passed her tests. And she would pass her tests, she would not fail. It was too late now to make alternate plans with the leather maker, so she would have to make best use of any time when she was allowed out. While she waited, she rested and meditated, making herself ready for the trials.
