An Emperor's Fury: The Frayed Rope

by Paul Heisel

  They talked about what was going on with the monastery and what Caleth heard from abroad on the results of the war with Borgard, while Feln made comments where he could. Even in the city, Caleth was reluctant to talk about Owori. On the outskirts of town, they took a walk into the short rolling hills, the same place Caleth had taken Owori to talk to her about her assignment. The day was getting hotter and Feln was parched, and he and Caleth shared drinks of lemon flavored water from a waterskin. The fields of flowers were in full bloom and the trees full of green leaves and life. The northerly wind cooled them, but did little to affect the hot blazing sun above. In the distance, smoke rose into the sky, a thin line drifting with the wind. It was a forest fire, which Caleth commented he hoped wouldn’t come near Waskhal. It had been a dry summer, primed for a disaster should the fire get too near.

  “I suppose we should talk,” Caleth said. “It’s safe here. Nowhere in Waskhal is safe anymore. I fear we’ve been compromised by spies. The winds of change are upon us Feln. We can do nothing to stop that. Whatever is in motion will stay in motion until there is a collision. The trick is not getting caught in it.”

  “I sense it too. Avoiding it altogether may be impossible, so we’ll need to make the best of it.”

  “My thoughts exactly. We must be prepared for anything.”

  “Where’s Owori? Have you seen her in the past day or so?”

  “She was on a secret mission for the Grand Master, hoping to uncovering rumblings of dissent in Bora. She’s in Bora.”

  “I have just come from there. She wasn’t there. In fact, Bora was in conflict. Monk against monk.”

  “What?”

  “There were monks who could use magic, fighting, fire, lighting...”

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Caleth said. “You've been gone too long. We'll get to Bora in a moment. What in shades happened to you?”

  “You won't believe it, but it's the unfiltered truth.”

  “At this point, nothing would surprise me. And coming from you, it has to be the truth.”

  #

  Midday came and went, leaving Caleth and Feln famished as they walked back to Waskhal. Caleth was astonished into silence by his story of Pyndira, the Furies, and all that happened to him. Feln wondered what he should do now. He had no idea where Owori was hiding, and he had spent the last two weeks running in circles, causing him to question his decisions further. Had he gone straight to Waskhal, he probably would have had a chance at finding Owori. He regretted letting assumptions guide him. What he needed was information, facts, and what he feared was all the facts were being destroyed in Bora. The conflict there would get worse before it would get better. The Furies were unbound, as far as he could tell, not controlled and were free to do what they wished. On one hand, he didn't like the idea of Furies being slaves, servants to the families who bound them. Yet, he understood what a collection of Furies could accomplish if they worked together, were organized, and were determined. It would be disastrous for anyone who couldn't get out of their way.

  Back at the monastery, Caleth sent a message by winged courier to the Grand Master, detailing Feln’s report about what he had seen in Bora. Nothing in the message hinted at what had happened to Feln. After they dined, Feln returned to the cloisters. Because they thought he was dead, his possessions had been given away. The only item he cared about was his diary, and the possibility that he would find it was remote. He found an unused pallet in the cloisters and meditated, recharging his supply of chi, and thinking on the events of the past several weeks. So many things were on his mind, and again, he found he had no one to turn to for advice. Caleth would help, but would he understand his thoughts and inquiries about Pyndira? He wondered what was happening in Pyndira now that he had departed? Where was Owori? Had Suun arrived in Hou? The latter he didn’t worry about, he could still see the lightning quick Suun dancing in Hiru’s quarters, slaying guard after guard with deadly knife strikes. It made his spine tingle. Lying back on the pallet and staring at the ceiling had a comforting effect; it also helped him find his center and a sense of hope. Owori was hiding because of this accusation. He couldn’t figure, though, where she went. He didn’t know why she didn’t come back to Waskhal, unless, she went Sabrin. Could she have gone there instead of Waskhal? Hope filled him that they were running in circles trying to find each other. Yes, that’s probably where she went. Caleth said when she was finished with Bora, she would go to Sabrin and come under the protection of the Grand Master.

  Thoughts of her situation gave way to uneasy thoughts about Bora. A change was coming to the Accord of the Hand at the hands of the Furies, and the basis for their empire was unraveling like a frayed rope. He would get caught up in it whether he liked it or not. Now that he had the knowledge about Furies, what they were and what they could do, he would have to use it to help the Accord of the Hand survive this change. The logical conclusion he reached was that someone in Bora was training Furies to take control of the Accord of the Hand. No other explanation sufficed, but he wasn't sure if it was Kara or Jerr, who was dead, or another monk he didn’t know about. Based on the display of destructive power he saw, there had to be several dozen or more Furies in Bora. That many, working together, could cripple any of the Accord’s monasteries. All it would take would be organization, an element of surprise, and perfect timing.

  The remainder of the day Feln spent training with the other monks, and having the Pyndira experiences in his repertoire made the Accord of the Hand training one dimensional. It was a good workout, no question there, but he had learned a variety of techniques such that he no longer had a defined style. That evening, he taught the more skilled monks advanced techniques, and when asked who taught him, he replied honestly that his family had. That evening, after sundown, he was summoned to Caleth’s quarters for a late supper. TeBroo and other higher ranking monks were in attendance. Feln and Caleth already agreed on a false story about Feln’s disappearance, that he was trapped in the dungeons of the castle and escaped badly injured not knowing what happened, so he hid in the countryside until he was healthy enough to travel. No one questioned the story, but Feln had to make up details and he didn’t feel comfortable lying so openly to those he trusted. It was for the best, though, and soon it was forgotten and the group began talking about the rumors. There was talk about Bora training monks that could use magic, and there was a discussion about the Grand Master stepping down and speculation that Seveth would be taking over the leadership of the Accord of the Hand. As the evening wore on, Feln grew weary of the gossip and excused himself.

  It was late and he needed sleep, but he needed a plan more than he needed rest. The logical place for Owori to be was Sabrin, so he would send a message to her there. If he didn’t receive a reply, he would know that she wasn’t there. He kicked himself for not sending out messages to all the monasteries when he had arrived in Sabrin. It took all of strength not to head off to Sabrin right now. He knew that he couldn’t go wandering around the countryside, searching for Owori, doing whatever he wanted. He was back in the Accord of the Hand and he had duties to attend to. His old position had been filled, so he was assigned as an aide to Caleth until a more permanent slot opened. What he needed was help, but where would that come from? If he were in Pyndira, he would have more than enough people to search for Owori. But here, he was just a monk, not the head of the Xialao family. He had friends that would assist him, yet Caleth was the only one he could trust with the truth. Though he didn't want to admit it, he was destined to do this alone.

  Outside of the cloisters, Feln took in the cooler air, keeping away from the structures as the heat from the day was still radiating from them. He took a short walk, soothing his anxiousness, and he could see candles burning from within the old church and the main offices; and he wondered how long they would carry on. Pounding hooves caught his attention and Feln looked down the avenue to see a horse flying toward him. The rider, a monk, swept past him and came to a halt at the church. His heart skip
ped a beat and he jaunted forward, expecting bad news. The monk on the horse slipped down, dusty from the speedy ride, and stumbled into the church. Feln followed and caught up to him. Both went into the dining room, where supper was nearly finished.

  “I have an urgent message for Caleth from the Grand Master,” the monk, Oliver, announced to the group. “I just received it.”

  The room fell silent and Caleth stood from the head of the table. He bowed to his fellow monks, excusing himself. “Oliver, come with me. Feln, you too.”

  “The message is private,” Oliver said. “The communiqué is for you only.”

  Caleth acknowledge the statement with a nod. “This way then. Feln, I’ll speak with you later.”

  #

  Not long after reading the message, Caleth sent Oliver to send a return message indicating he received the message and per the instructions, would do what was necessary. Caleth summoned Feln to his office. Feln entered, taking with him preconceived notions that there had been an attack on the Empire. Inside the room Feln could see that Caleth was concerned. He was slumped in his chair, hands gripping his face. Feln took a seat and waited.

  “Seveth, our Master of Winter, is dead,” spoke Caleth. “Abram has temporarily taken the leadership of the Renk monastery, but he’s too old – you know he has no ambitions. A new leader must be nominated and confirmed. I’ll have to go to Sabrin for council. The Grand Master will call for it soon and he will ask us to bring candidates. I’ll need to call a meeting to explain the situation. But first, I want to talk to you about how Seveth died.”

  “What happened?”

  “The circumstances of his death are odd to say the least. They found Seveth in a washtub, naked as the day he was born, frozen solid. Apparently he had taken a bath in the evening and a novice found him by chance. The bath, water, and his flesh were frozen.” Caleth looked up and stared at Feln. “It is late summer with hot days and warm nights. I can only conclude this was done with magic. Is this like the Furies you described?”

  “Yes,” Feln whispered. “This may have been the first act in their plan. The Grand Master could be the next target if we put any stock into Owori’s suspicions that she sent you about Jerr. He was the one she was accused of killing. Perhaps Owori learned of his plan and that's what caused the confrontation, and she killed him defending herself. Maybe the plan is already in motion. Everyone knows Seveth was the successor to Montishari Gatôn. A new Master of Winter will need to be appointed, but maybe the killers wanted the Grand Master’s successor to be out of the way first.”

  Caleth considered what Feln said. “Killing the Grand Master creates more problems though. You’re forgetting our laws.”

  “Which laws are you referring to?”

  “The Accord of the Hand abides by longstanding laws to make sure destabilization of the leadership doesn’t happen,” Caleth said. “In the case of the deaths of two monastery leaders, whether it is two Seasons or the Grand Master and a Season, the Winds automatically become part of the leadership. The Accord of the Hand is governed by each second in command until things are sorted. Before I call a meeting, I'll need your help. I don’t want to spend too much time talking about Furies and other suspicions we may have that would create other questions. Tell me, what would you do if you wanted to become the leader of the Accord of the Hand? Spare me no dastardly deeds these Furies are capable of. Assume this is an attack from within, not an external organization trying to topple our government.”

  Feln thought for a moment, taking a deep breath or two. “Well, to be truthful, I would assassinate the most prolific successor to the Grand Master…”

  “Seveth…”

  “…and then I would make sure the Grand Master died of natural causes later. He’s getting older, so a poison that would slowly kill him would do the job, and it would look as if he was deteriorating naturally.”

  “If his death occurs before the new Master of Winter is selected, the secondary leadership takes over until the mess can be resolved.”

  Feln glanced at the walls of the room, noting the older decorations looked like styles he had seen in Pyndira. What was the connection between Pyndira and the Accord of the Hand? Would that help him here if he figured it out? “I need some tea.”

  “I’ll give you one pot of tea,” Caleth said. “After that I’ll need to call this meeting with our leadership. I’ll return.”

  Caleth came back after many minutes, indicating the meeting was set. Tea was brought into the room, steam from the pot floated into the air and the aroma was flowers. It was still too hot to drink after they poured it, so they sat quietly until it was cool enough to sip the aromatic drink.

  “Are we assuming the goal is to become the Grand Master?” Feln asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So why didn’t they assassinate the Grand Master instead?”

  “Are you going against your first notion of killing the successor?”

  “We don’t have a lot to go on.”

  “Why would you kill the successor?” Caleth asked.

  “So I could be named the next successor. How do you become first in line? You get rid of those in front of you. The list of Seasons is short, you, Kara, Seveth, and Djaa. I would say in order of preference it is Seveth, you, Djaa, and Kara.”

  “I think Djaa is ahead of me.”

  “I think the Grand Master no longer trusts Djaa,” Feln said. “That was made clear to me when we discussed Owori’s assignment. You are the next in line, particularly if he has entrusted you with investigating Kara and her Furies. That doesn’t help us, though, if this is Jerr’s plan.”

  “Regardless of who is behind this, I should be the next target. Correct?”

  “I would assume so. If they aren’t going to kill the Grand Master, then it’ll be you they’ll go after next. They won't care about the laws.”

  “I’ll need you handle security matters for me. You know what these Furies are capable of and how to find them.”

  “Tattoos,” Feln said. “If they have them, they will try to hide them.”

  “I've delayed long enough. We need to get to the meeting I called. Say nothing about magic or you will fuel fires that I don’t want to get any higher. The rumors about Bora don’t need additional bolstering, as they are already out of control.” He paused and after a deep breath said, “You know what Feln, I’m glad your back.”

  #

  The meeting hall adjacent to the church was filled with monks where were rapt with concern. Impromptu meetings weren’t uncommon, but to bring together the senior monks and the monastery’s leadership behind locked doors in the evening was a rare occurrence. Feln sat toward the front of the hall and to the side, watching as the monks sat down. He could hear them muttering – why were they searched before entering the hall? Why were their arms and shoulders inspected? Another of Caleth’s trusted and most promising monks, Tamuel, had been briefed on matters by Feln and took the initiative to check their monks for tattoos. None were identified. Tamuel signaled ‘all clear’ to Caleth. With a smooth marble rock the size and shape of an apple in his hand, Caleth pounded on the table to bring the meeting to order. The conversations halted at once. Tamuel locked the door.

  “The urgency of this meeting should not spurn speculation,” Caleth began, “however, that doesn’t mean what I’m about to discuss should be termed trivial. Our brother, Seveth Utoth, the Master of Winter, has been assassinated.”

  Feln wasn’t surprised that Caleth took that leap. The past half hour he had thought about the situation, and he kept concluding that this was a first run at toppling the current leadership from within. What caused him to be uncertain was this, why was Seveth first? Was it a terror tactic to scare the Grand Master? Or was Seveth the easiest target? Was his suspicion that Caleth would be next a reasonable assumption? If it were Kara, Djaa, or this Jerr trying to take control of the Accord of the Hand, would they be that bold to assassinate two leaders of the monasteries to put their own people in charge? It was an angl
e he hadn’t considered. What if they did have plans to put their own leaders in place, thus taking control that way? Would that work? After the murmurs and shock of the announcement wore off, the hall fell silent, awaiting Caleth to continue. Feln figured Caleth would answer to most pressing question first, how did he die?

  “He died in his bath, not by natural means,” Caleth said, leaving out the part about being frozen. Feln wondered why the assassins chose a Fury with frost to perform the deed, and he thought he would figure that out soon. He just needed more time to think about it. “All indications are this was an assassination to upset the political workings of the Accord of the Hand.”

  “What does this mean?” a monk asked.

  “Do they know who did it?” said another.

  “Did he drown?”

  “We must be on our guard and report anything suspicious to Feln here, who has been assigned as Security Chief. Tamuel and TeBroo will work closely with him to make sure that if there are assassins in Waskhal, they won’t be successful. The leadership has little evidence on who did this, and Feln will share information we have in a moment. As of tonight, Feln, TeBroo, and Tamuel will make improvements to the security of this monastery. When we are finished here, each of you will report to Feln so you may better understand what is expected. I know that the numbers in our army are down because of the losses we suffered in Borgard. More will be asked of you and your monks in the coming weeks. I ask that you give me your best.”

  “The army is ready to assist,” Ayorris, the monk who was considered the general of the army. He was seated close to Feln. He was a tough older man, stoutly built, hard to please. “While our numbers aren’t as strong as they once were, we are still a large force that can’t be ignored. We'll do what is necessary.”

  “Good,” Caleth said. “What all of this means is a new Master of Winter will be elected. Soon the Grand Master will call for a conclave to vote on this. I will be leaving soon with a contingent of monks, a great many of you in this room, who are potential candidates for that position. Beyond that, we will operate as normal, but with heightened security. I will ask Feln to step up here to talk specifically about a way we may identify potential assassins.” Murmurs began again, most about Feln and his return from the dead, the remainder about the assassination. Feln stood next to Caleth and waited for the discussions to subside.