An Emperor's Fury: The Frayed Rope

by Paul Heisel

  “Clever.” Montishari Gatôn glanced at Feln. “Do you think these assassins are associated with Bora?”

  Caleth spoke before Feln could answer the question. “From what information we’ve gathered, possibly. But I have no direct proof. TeBroo is currently researching these dead men and will send word if he finds out any useful information.”

  “Getting back to Bora. What do you know? What happened? Your message was incomplete.” The Grand Master looked at Feln again. “What happened to Owori?”

  Caleth glanced at Feln, indicating he should remain quiet. “This is what we’ve learned.”

  #

  As asked, Feln remained silent while Caleth spoke of the two messages Owori had sent, then filled in with information about what Feln witnessed while visiting Bora. The Grand Master sipped his tea, nodding his head and interjecting comments. For the length of the conversation, though, the Grand Master listened intently. Caleth finished by telling how Feln defeated the two monks, surviving a terrible burn to his back, and how TeBroo found the third assassin along the rooftop.

  “I fear these magical wielding monks, assassins, are up to no good,” Montishari Gatôn said. “If it’s as bad as I predict, the reason Sabrin is on fire is because of one of these…what did you call them? Furies? Who knows how many were devoted to Jerr’s cause. Now that he’s dead, who knows what will happen. A collection of such powerful warriors could prove devastating to the Accord of the Hand. Because there was an attempt on your life, I expect the other Seasons to report similar acts. You’d also expect my life to be taken so one of you can serve as the new Grand Master. Whoever is alive at the end of this will take my place.”

  “Our laws prohibit such a thing,” Caleth said.

  “Laws are not going to be followed. I suggest you remember that whoever wants to control the Accord of the Hand is not going to follow our laws. If I die, you’ll know who represents the interests of the Accord of the Hand; those that follow the laws. Any suggestion that we deviate is an act of treason and should be dealt with accordingly. If I stay alive through whatever is coming, then we will prevail in the end. To the bloody end if it must be. Civil war may be upon us. If I die, it will certainly be upon us.”

  “Then we must make sure you stay alive.”

  “Indeed. I want the same thing.”

  “Then what do you propose?” Caleth asked.

  “We wait and hope the first strike isn’t deadly. I’ve summoned Abram, Kara, and Djaa to join the conclave. Soon they’ll arrive. While conclave is happening, we will flush out the traitors. I do trust you, but I warn you, both of you. Any action taken that can be construed as treasonous, I will know you are not with me and you will be subject to the harshest punishment.” A bell rang outside of the door. “I must excuse you, as I have other appointments. I still have to lead the Accord of the Hand despite what’s transpiring.”

  “Of course, we’ll take our leave,” Caleth said.

  “But before you go, Feln, I would like to see the burn you received. Indulge me, prove to me this happened.”

  Feln stood up slowly, removed his outer robe and took off the top to his fighting clothes. He turned so the Grand Master could see remnants of the burn.

  “It’s healing well. Thank you. My trust is with you. Caleth, Feln, you may go now.”

  The Grand Master rang a bell in response to the outside bell. The outer doors opened and the young monk came inside, then he escorted Feln and Caleth through the monastery and back to their quarters. Neither spoke during the twisting turning journey through the ancient monastery.

  #

  When the door to the room shut, Caleth went directly to the window. With a clank he closed the shutters. The candlelight flickered from the table inside the darkened room. Caleth sat on the edge of his pallet, hands in his face. Feln stood with arms crossed and waited for his master to speak.

  “I don’t know what to think of the repeated threats. He didn’t believe us about the magic fire and the assassins,” Caleth said. “Why would we make up such outlandish stories? Why did he want to see the wound on your back?”

  “He was trying to verify his suspicion about me.” Feln undid his robe. “He was looking to see if I was wearing my belt. I’m sure he recognized it as being from Pyndira. The Grand Master knows more about Pyndira than he has led anyone to believe.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “He called the monks Furies, which is a Pyndiran term.”

  “Isn’t that what Jerr called his monks?”

  “It is, but you didn’t mention it. He knows about Furies, he knows about Pyndira, and he knows why Jerr, Kara or Djaa is trying to displace him as ruler of the Accord of the Hand. It isn’t the Accord of the Hand as a whole; it has to do with Sabrin – this monastery. I feel it. The Accord of the Hand is inconsequential.”

  “What could be here that they would want?”

  “You said yourself that it could be treasure, wealth. Maybe they’re coming to take the Accord of the Hand’s wealth, and if they happen to become the leader of the Accord of the Hand that would be a bonus.”

  “Bah,” Caleth said. “The Accord of the Hand has riches, and I have seen it, but not so much that it would cause this nonsense. There’s something deeper.”

  “There’s one way to find out,” Feln said. “I can blink.”

  “If they catch you, they’ll kill you. Then they’ll come looking for me.”

  “I won’t get caught.”

  #

  Feln watched and waited for many minutes, the sweat making his fighting clothes stick to his body. His knees and legs were cramping, but he didn’t dare move. At this point, he didn’t care if it were overconfidence or arrogance that forced him into this situation, but only patience and luck was going to get him safely out of the Grand Master’s quarters. It was late, nearing midnight, and Feln could see the Grand Master sitting at his desk scanning documents. A few people came and went, dashing Feln’s hope of getting away before the Grand Master went to sleep. If he ever went to sleep. He would have to wait, silent, lurking from his vantage point in the cabinet, until he could escape.

  He had learned a few things from visitors – the fire was under control but had burned out a sizeable portion of the outer city. They hadn’t caught those responsible, and the Grand Master commented they wouldn’t. The army was helping clean things up and making progress. Security around the monastery was tight and they detained a dozen people for questioning today, then released them. No one was in custody. The rest of the visitors brought him reports of mundane things too uninteresting for Feln to recount. The cabinet he was in was really a closet, just from the outside it looked like a set of cabinets. It was deep, large enough to hold more clothing than Feln thought anyone would need for a lifetime. There were racks containing dozens, if not a hundred different robes. Some were old, some new. There were boots and shoes, fighting clothes, and what Feln termed normal clothes. It was dark and he was hidden, but it didn’t make him feel secure. He had backed himself into this corner, trapped, and he needed to get out of it. Once the Grand Master went to sleep, he would blink and find a way to slip out of the room. Feln peered out of the crack in the closet door. A young aide, the one from before, came through the double doors. Feln took a soothing breath. He was hopeful.

  “Master, we’re locking everything down for the night. Guards are posting. Dragonmasters report from checkpoints that all is well. Do you want me to lock your door?”

  “Lock it, yes. I’m expecting another visitor. Should he show up later tonight, please bring him here. Wake me no matter what the hour. Do you remember my friend, Akuka?”

  “Yes, of course. He's from Kran? I will see that he's brought here immediately.” The aide backed out through the doors.

  The Grand Master walked toward the closet as the door was locked. Feln called upon his chi and made himself invisible, becoming as inconspicuous as one of the robes hanging there. The Grand Master entered the walk-in closet and opened the doors fully f
or more light, then he discarded his robe into a basket. He was wearing light, loose-fitting underclothes. Feln held his breath for as long as he could, waiting for the Grand Master to finish getting ready for bed. The Grand Master, though, didn’t don bedclothes, nor did he look like he was getting ready for bed. He slipped on a black outfit; it was odd to Feln to see him in clothes other than a robe. The Grand Master then grabbed a belt and cinched it around his waist, tying it securely. There was a crest on the shoulder of his tunic, and it looked to be a symbol, almost like an ‘n’. Feln almost let a sound escape, instead he let his breath out slowly and took in more air. The belt the Grand Master put on was a belt of a Favored One. It sent Feln’s mind racing – the Grand Master was from a family, but which one? He stared at the red emblem, the 'n', trying to remember if Iristi or Suun had told him what the family symbols were. Shisaru, lion; Daiwer-dar, dragon; Safun, sword; Emesia, stalks of grain; Furawa, tree. So it had to be either Ashimo or Hikimi.

  Another breath. It came out slow and sure, and it kept him calm. At least the Grand Master was going out, leaving, so this was his chance to get back to Caleth and report what little he had discovered. For such a huge risk, he hadn’t learned anything of real use except that the Grand Master was indeed from Pyndira. The Grand Master departed the closet. Feln dropped his chi and took a deeper breath, then pushed the door open slightly to see the Grand Master using a winch to lower the glass jellyfish chandelier to the floor. He winked out all but one candle, then used the last candle to light a lantern. It took effort for the older man, but he managed to get the chandelier back up, the one candle barely lighting the room. Montishari Gatôn lifted the lantern and checked the fuel level. Feln hoped this was his chance to escape, and his hopes dashed when the Grand Master came straight towards him.

  Feln blinked, shifting his position just enough to make sure he stayed out of the Grand Master’s intended path. Lantern extended, the Grand Master closed the closet doors and headed to the back. Feln could see the polished floors were worn, showing a regular path to the back wall, then it registered. A secret door. The Grand Master pulled down one of the pegs meant to hold a robe. There was a click and the Grand Master slid back a secret panel, stepped through, and shut it behind him. It was the best opportunity to escape, but Feln stood there indecisive. If he didn’t follow the Grand Master, he would never find out where the secret door led to. This secret passageway led to an important clue, and it had to be the key to what was happening to the Accord of the Hand. Feln pulled the peg, slipped through the sliding door, shut the panel, and sneaked down the hallway.

  Ahead of him the Grand Master walked. The lantern gave off enough light that Feln could see that this tunnel was made of solid stone blocks. He made up the distance and stayed twenty feet behind the Grand Master, not wanting to get closer, but not wanting to get too far away that he couldn’t slip through a closing door. The hallway came to an end at a stairwell. Feln followed the Grand Master down the many flights of steps, keeping his distance and remaining invisible. He was beginning to tire, though, and would have to become visible soon. Feln counted three hundred steps down, and it was no wonder the Grand Master stopped at the bottom to stretch his cramped calves and to rest.

  They continued down a hallway hewn from dense stone, a whitish type rock that reflected the lantern light. Feln kept his distance. The Grand Master came to a solid iron door and unlocked it with a key he brought from underneath his robe. Feln danced forward, silent. The door creaked and groaned open so loud that Feln was certain he could have stomped and the Grand Master wouldn’t have been heard the noise. The Grand Master slipped his key out of the door’s lock. Feln went through right behind him, trying not to move so quickly that he disturbed the air. The Grand Master paused. Feln’s heart pounded. He moved ahead, turned, then backed away with hushed steps. If he were discovered here, he was certain the Grand Master would try to kill him. Standing still and to the side, Feln watched as the Grand Master inspected the floors. He lifted the lantern, panning it up and down the hallway, then he shut and locked the door. The Grand Master continued on his way, walking right past Feln.

  Feln expected there to be more secure doors, but after a long distance the stone passageway ended abruptly. It looked like a dead end. The Grand Master pressed on the wall, using his strength to push open a portal made of stone. The air hissed and the Grand Master went through. Feln followed, barely avoiding the shutting door. The Grand Master lifted the lantern and strode to the middle of a circular room where a pedestal was waiting.

  They were on a wooden floor, planks built into pie shaped panels to cover the room. Feln went to the center, staying as close to the Grand Master as he dared. The center was an elevated circular wooden platform. The pedestal was made of smooth wood planks fashioned into a vertical box, the top contained several levers. The sides of the room had mirrors on them, each identical to the other. Feln tried to memorize the location of where they had come through, but it all looked the same and he didn’t dare attempt marking it. The Grand Master moved the levers, Feln tried to follow the sequence but he knew he couldn’t repeat it if he had to. In the distance, he heard a muffled click.

  The Grand Master scurried toward one of the mirrors. He pulled on a handle, opening the door, then he went through. Feln tried to follow, but the door shut too quickly and he was left in darkness that disoriented him for a moment. Recovery came, though, and his hand found the handle, he pulled slowly, and entered. The lantern light ahead of him cast a long shadow. Not taking any chances, he closed the door, blinked, and followed at a distance. The hallway ended at a grand archway adorned with symbols inlaid with gold. Feln stepped into a room that was two hundred feet by two hundred feet at least, and the ceiling looked to be about thirty high. He wasn’t sure, but he guessed the bottom of the room was deeper, so maybe it was forty feet high. He couldn’t tell for sure because of the contents that filled the space. Spread across every square foot of the room, except for narrow aisles, were mounds of treasure. Gold. Silver. Gems. Platinum. It looked as if at one time it had been organized. Sections had chests that were lined up and stacked neatly, other sections contained piles that were loose and spilling over. There was more wealth here than Feln could have imagined. He shook the fog from his mind, finding Montishari Gatôn. The Grand Master had acquired a torch from the wall and had lit it. He still had the lantern, set it at his feet, and began making hand movements. Feln watched. With a shimmer, the Grand Master disappeared.

  Feln dropped his chi, letting out a soothing breath. He wasn’t sure how long the Grand Master would be gone – minutes, hours? It didn’t make sense for him to linger in Pyndira, so Feln surmised he wouldn’t be gone long. He could try to make his way back and wait by the iron door, but he had the feeling to get back into the tunnel he would have to manipulate the levers, and he didn’t want to find out what would happen if you initiated an incorrect sequence. He would have to wait for the Grand Master’s return. One last look at the treasure and he departed into the hallway, the darkness causing him to slow and move to the side wall for guidance. Deep breaths soothed him. Once he was far enough away and drenched in blackness, he sat on the floor and meditated, recharging his magic. He was going to need it.

  With so much wealth, Feln imagined that the Accord of the Hand could have done incredible good. It made him wonder why all of it was here, stashed deep underneath the monastery. He wondered as well where the Grand Master was going, and to what family he belonged. He guessed where the Grand Master transported was a favorable, planned, known location unlike his accidental trip into the center of Hou. If the Grand Master was from Pyndira, what was he doing here? He had served the Accord of the Hand for decades. So being from Pyndira was no accident. A light came from down the hallway and Feln blinked before the lantern light could wash over him. He stood and waited for the Grand Master to pass by. If all went well he would get back to the Grand Master’s quarters and sneak out. Still, he wasn’t sure what all of this meant, and he was too tire
d to think clearly.

  #

  Exhaustion set in. Feln couldn’t keep invisible any longer and he was happy to be back in the closet. The Grand Master hurried the entire distance, thankfully, but slowed at the stairs and made it back to his room sweating and panting. Feln peered out of the crack, hoping the Grand Master would go to sleep. To his dismay, he heard a key scrape in the lock and the door to the room opened. Visitors. Through it came a robed figure who shut the door quickly. The Grand Master was at the table, drinking water, and he looked toward the door. The robed figure held up his arms in greeting. The sleeves slipped down and Feln could see a distinct tattoo of an orange serpent on the right arm. It was a Fury. His heart slammed into his throat and he stood up from his crouched position. He didn’t have his katana, only a short knife, and at this distance he wouldn’t be able to get there fast enough. Feln clenched his teeth. This was it. This was how the Grand Master would die.

  “Montishari Gatôn,” the Fury said, his voice endearing.

  “Akuka! My friend, you’re a welcome sight for these old eyes.”

  The two embraced.

  “I came as expeditiously as I could. My connection is distant from here.”

  “I should have communicated better the needed time for your arrival,” the Grand Master muttered. “But no matter, you are here and I’m happy to have my Fury at my side. Things are hectic as you can imagine. Worse than I thought.”

  “So it seems.”

  “Seveth is dead. I delivered the news to his mother and father personally. They didn't take it well.”

  “A great loss.” Akuka paused. “Before I begin with my findings, did you find any local family members to take his place?”

  “No. There isn’t anyone suitable, as everyone is too old. They will never elect an old man to replace the dynamic Seveth. Come, sit, please rest your feet. So, tell me, have they found an agreeable monk? You bring me good news?”