by Paul Heisel
“These men risked their lives,” Akuka said as he stepped in front of the Dragonmasters and directed them away from Ash and Feln. He picked up Feln’s katana and handed it to him.
“You are more trusting than I would be,” the Grand Master said. His eyes flitted about as if he expected another attack. “Regardless, question the three of them.”
“We’ll get all of our answers from this one,” Akuka said pointing at the Fury as he went out of the door. There was part of an orange snake tattoo showing on his right arm.
“Indeed. Still, question the three of them.”
#
Feln recovered from being chilled, still shuddering at the thought of the Fury freezing the dome until brittle, then hammering it until it broke. How could have anyone anticipated that type of entrance to the Grand Master’s chambers? Guessing from the amount of Dragonmasters who were assembled, the Grand Master was expecting another attempt. While he was being questioned, the healers poked and prodded him, but nothing was permanently affected by the ice. The magic belt and Ash’s fire protected him. A Dragonmaster questioned them and wrote down what they said, indicating the Grand Master would review their statements. When they were finished, they were escorted back to their barracks. There was no sign of the captured assassin, so Feln was sure the Fury was locked deep in the dungeons and suffering a more thorough questioning. Monk guards and soldiers were at every junction as they wound their way from the interior of the monastery to the large barracks. Feln stopped counting after he reached twenty-five sets of guards – figuring now that no one would be able to navigate the monastery buildings until the Grand Master had his answers.
When he arrived, he spent time explaining what had happened to Caleth, then returned to his room to rest. Tiredness set in and he curled up with the blankets, drifting off as the storm raged outside. Tomorrow, he was sure, would have more answers. What frightened him was the Fury who killed Haworu was not part of any of the contingents of monks that were barracked in the monastery. He was sure of it. That meant there could be any number of Furies unaccounted for, waiting to strike the unawares.
#
Despite the tragic death of Haworu, the interviews for the position of Master of Winter began at the Grand Master’s urging. No additional candidate was put forward. Feln didn’t enjoy the interrogations, in particular Kara was pleasant, sweet, and sugary. She insisted on being his friend, still trying to convince him that he had a future in Bora if he wished it, that was, if he didn't become the Master of Winter. She interviewed him far longer than anyone else. Djaa was neutral in his approach, not being difficult but not being easy on him either. Abram was supportive and coached him on what to say when the time came for the vote, and the Grand Master only had one question, are you part of the plot to assassinate me, which ended up getting Haworu killed? The answer was no, of course. The interviews took the entire morning and the leaders met at the midday meal to vote. Feln sat in his room, meditating, filling himself with tranquility. They had the advantage in the voting – the Grand Master, Abram, and Caleth would vote for him, which meant he would be the next Master of Winter. This would further complicate his life and delay his search for Owori.
An hour after the midday meal, the Dragonmasters summoned him to where the leaders were gathered. As Feln entered the room, he could see their faces were serious. Ash was there, his eyes blackened, the escaped Fury’s invisible force had broken his nose and many of the small blood vessels in his face. He was directed to sit down on a wooden bench, and as he did, the Grand Master stood up to address the group. He was dressed in formal robes, colorful purple with gold accents. It was in stark contrast to the mundane robes everyone else was wearing.
“A decision has been made concerning the leadership of the Renk monastery, the position of Master of Winter recently vacated by the death of Seveth. Although we can never replace his leadership, we can count on the new Master of Winter to act in the best interests of the Accord of the Hand. It is with great pleasure, and sadness surrounding the circumstances of this event, that I name Ash as Master of Winter.”
Feln’s pounding heart continued to flutter in his chest, the anticipation of it all frayed his nerves. Now there was a sense of relief as he wouldn’t have this responsibility. What it meant, though, was one of the three voted for Ash. He knew Caleth would vote for him, so it had to be the Grand Master or Abram. It didn’t matter, because now he could pack up and go to Bora and talk to Pearl. He could be on the road soon, putting this business behind him.
“There will be a great celebration tonight,” the Grand Master spoke. “We will honor Ash as the new Master of Winter. As is our custom, we will bury Seveth in the Hall of the Masters in the catacombs underneath the monastery. There will also be a service for the recently departed Haworu. There are many preparations to be made, but before I take my leave, is there anything the new Master of Winter would like to say?”
Ash stood up and began a rehearsed speech. Feln wasn’t listening. It bothered him, even though he was relieved, that he didn’t win. Even if there were good reasons to lose, he still hated losing. He was a better candidate to lead the Renk monastery than Ash. Across the table Caleth sat, content with the decision, a half smile on his face. Laughter interrupted the speech as Ash uttered a witty remark, but Feln didn’t hear it. The meeting was adjourned with a clap of the Grand Master's hands. Everyone congratulated Ash, who was all smiles. One by one the room emptied. Feln remained, then sat down on the bench and rubbed his face. Caleth, who had lingered as well, approached.
“I’m surprised the Grand Master didn’t find another candidate to replace Haworu,” Feln said.
“I think the Grand Master realized he wasn’t going to be able to put a member of his family in charge of Renk, so he gave up. And I think he thought that you would win the vote.”
There was a pause, the silence palpable.
“I’m sorry Feln,” Caleth said.
“I was the best candidate. I mean, I’m happy that I didn’t win because I can continue my search for Owori. Ash isn’t a better leader than I am. What do you think happened with the vote?”
“I know what happened with the vote. I couldn’t vote for you. I was the deciding vote and I couldn’t do it.”
“Why couldn’t you vote for me?”
Caleth looked around the empty room like he expected spies to step out of the furniture. “You said I would be curious. You see, I put on that bloody belt you gave me.”
#
There were monks and soldiers guarding the monastery inside and out, and it made it cramped. At every turn, there were guards watching. Feln anticipated a challenge to the Grand Master’s rule soon, whether it would be political or violent, he didn’t know. Now that Ash was the Master of Winter, either Djaa or Kara could be put in power. It might take weeks or months to accomplish by political means, or with all the confusion happening, it would be just as easy to eliminate the Grand Master by force. Blood had been spilled, why stop now? He had to make sure he stayed alert. It still bothered him there were Furies that were unaccounted for, and he didn’t know where they were hiding. He firmly believed they came with Kara, and it made sense to him now that she traveled from Bora with loyal soldiers and monks, as well as Furies, but kept the marked Furies hidden.
The celebration of Ash’s appointment was held in the main hall. The hall was of considerable size, partially built into the ground with no basement beneath. The floor was solid rock, steady, and the tables and benches normally used for dining were rearranged to accommodate a stage in the middle. The design of it reminded Feln of the training facility in Safun where Suun had shown him all the fighting techniques. The thought made him wonder how Suun was doing in Hou. Soon, he thought, he would find Owori and take her back to Pyndira. He decided, that’s where he belonged, Pyndira. No matter how much he thought about staying with the Accord of the Hand, he couldn’t shake his gut feeling that he belonged in Pyndira. He would of course discuss it with Caleth, but he was determin
ed and nothing would change his mind.
Everyone was dressed in appropriate robes for a fine celebration. Most were borrowed from the Sabrin monastery, which seemed to have an endless supply of well-made clothing. In the hall, he recognized the different contingents from the other monasteries, his included, dispersed throughout. Paper decorations that resembled a variety of animals, including dragons, hung from the ceiling on thin cords. They spun lazily from the interior air currents. Meat delicacies, hearty breads, and stewed vegetables were coming from the kitchen nonstop, while drink was flowing from freshly opened barrels. Musicians warmed up on stage, while the Grand Master overlooked the proceedings from his seat of prominence. The celebrating began and it became louder, yet Feln didn’t feel like participating. He was here because Caleth insisted he attend with the rest of the representatives of their monastery. He would be allowed to leave soon to go to Bora to talk to Pearl, just not right this instant.
Feln surveyed the room. Along the perimeter of the hall he could see the Dragonmasters in the shadows, silent protectors looking over them. He wondered if all the interviews had been completed, and if the captured Fury had named the conspirators. It concerned him that no further information was divulged after the events of last night. Surely the Fury talked by now. Among the confusion, unfortunately, the Fury’s accomplice hadn’t been found. Feln was certain he was on the monastery grounds, hidden, waiting with his brothers and sisters to strike another blow at a critical time.
“A fine celebration.”
Feln turned toward Caleth’s voice. He was dressed in fancy brown robes with a red sash that identified him as being one of the Seasons. His normally messy hair was tamer, straighter. Caleth seemed taller than usual and he projected a confident calm. The events of the past several weeks should have worn him down, yet he looked like he was in complete control of himself, his life, and his surroundings.
“Indeed it is,” Feln said, though he was thinking the events he had attended at Hiru’s palace were far more indulgent, but not necessarily better. “How is the belt?”
Caleth tugged on the red sash. “Good. Makes everything sharper. I feel energetic, even tempered, calm, level.”
“Then you’ll keep it?”
“Of course,” he said, laughing. “I will hang onto it, but I’m not leaving Waskhal. I have a monastery to run.”
“I have no problem with that. There will be a time, though, when you’ll be curious about Pyndira. When that time comes, you’ll be welcomed into the family.”
“I won’t pretend to understand it all,” Caleth said. “I’ll have to trust your judgment. When that time comes, I hope you will explain it all to me.”
“I will. Just as you trust me, I trust you. It’s mutual.”
Celebrators came handing out drinks. Instead Feln reached for an apple and bit into it. This had become his comfort food as of late. This made him not talk and it put an object in his hands so he couldn’t receive the wine they were delivering. Caleth bowed to the monks, took a bowl of wine, and drank to good fortune. They departed and Caleth discarded the bowl to a nearby table without spilling the contents. The musicians were ready to play and one of the Grand Master’s aides began clanging on a bell to silence the masses. Once it became quiet, he announced in a loud clear voice that the music would begin momentarily and for everyone to take their seats. Feln scanned the room as he sat down next to Caleth, noticing that many of the Dragonmasters had disappeared from their posts. Another was circling the room with purpose, talking to each Dragonmaster. He was giving orders or detailed instructions. Feln tensed as he leaned near Caleth’s ear.
“Would you mind if I retired for the evening?” Feln asked.
“Too much for you?”
“Just need my rest.”
“You may take your leave if you must.”
Feln made a hand signal. Caution. “Thank you master Caleth. Don’t indulge too much. You may need your wits.”
“Return and let me know what’s going on. And stay out of trouble.”
“I will.”
#
While the bulk of the visitors joined in the celebration and listened to the music, the rest of the monastery was being secured by Dragonmasters, led by Sondossasya, and soldiers who were commanded by a man Feln didn’t know. Feln blinked when the opportune time came, sneaking through the hallways invisible to everyone. He would find out what was going on and report back to Caleth as instructed. Whatever was transpiring, it wasn't good. First he went to their barracks. It was heavily guarded with several Dragonmasters waiting for their return from the celebration, along with a great number of armed soldiers.
Down the hallway near his room, he looked for monks who had stayed behind for the evening. They were guarded, trapped in their rooms so they couldn’t leave. Feln sneaked along the hallways and went past additional guards, then he returned to the first level. It wouldn’t take him long to warn Caleth, but then he wondered what could Caleth do? What was the purpose of this? Perhaps, he thought, he should investigate more. He had to find Sondossasya, the leader, and follow him. First, though, he backtracked and discovered a secluded spot where he could hide in the traditional sense. He found a vacant room off a hallway and barred the door, and in the darkness, he meditated to recharge his chi. Once he felt enough time had passed, he returned to the barracks and went to find Sondossasya. As far as Feln could tell, the guards were waiting for Caleth to return from the celebration, biding their time with idle chit chat. It looked like this was what Sondossasya was going to do – wait inside their room, and he guessed, to take them prisoner. Feln was about to go back to the celebration to talk to Caleth when a monk came for Sondossasya.
“There is a contingent of monks at the main gate,” the monk said. “They are asking for an audience with the Grand Master and the Grand Master only.”
“What do they look like?”
“Monks,” was the reply. “They look haggard, as if they have traveled for days through the wilds to get here.”
“How many?”
“Ten, twelve. Sorry, I didn’t count all of them.”
“Where are they from?”
“They wouldn’t say. The leader said it wasn’t important where they came from, but that they had come to stop an attempt on the Grand Master’s life. They are of the Accord of the Hand if that is what you’re wondering. They aren’t imposters trying to get inside the walls.”
“They’re too late to stop the attempt on the Grand Master,” Sondossasya muttered. “I’ll go talk to them. This may yield pertinent information.” He pointed to two other Dragonmasters. “Come with me.”
#
Outside it was much easier for Feln to use a combination of magic and the evening darkness to follow Sondossasya. The night was cool, but not cold. The grass beneath his feet was still wet from the previous evening storms, and he was thankful it wasn’t raining. He figured the rain would be a potential way for others to find him – rain fell straight down and not through invisible objects. With that thought, he found a favorable spot near enough so he could hear the conversation, as well as see the contingent of monks. By deduction, he assumed the monks were from Bora. Feln was certain Sondossasya was as curious as he.
Half of the gate was open, the other side remained shut. Soldiers stood at the ready near the contingent of visiting monks. Sondossasya and the Dragonmasters stood in the middle of the lane, acting as another barrier to the monastery’s entrance. The lead monk bowed to Sondossasya. She was petite, a smallish woman who could have easily passed for a teenager. She was wearing a light blue robe that looked crumpled, as if it had been stuffed inside a pack for many days. All the other monks had on the same light blue robes, except for two of them who had on golden robes in the same rumpled condition. They were from Bora as he had seen the robes before. He was also certain there were tattoos out there. Furies. This was not going to help.
“Well met,” Sondossasya said. “My name is Sondossasya, head of security in Sabrin. Welcome.” He bo
wed.
“Well met,” the monk replied. “My name is Tasha, I hail from Bora. My fellow monks have come a great distance and at great peril to warn you of an impending attack on the Grand Master.”
“I hope you can appreciate that there are always rumors of schemes to kill the Grand Master. If we acted on every rumor, we would be constantly chasing ghosts. For me to give any sort of credence to your assertions, I must have proof of this impending attack. Names. Times. Means. Everything. Tell me what you know.”
Tasha motioned to her fellow bedraggled monks. “Perhaps we can go inside the monastery as it is better suited for conversation, and perhaps you can find quarters for my monks. We have come a long way in a short amount of time. You may search us, question us, or lock us up. We have nothing to hide.”
Sondossasya paused while he was thinking. He nodded. “Of course. Your monks must be under guard until I can sort this out.”
“I would prefer it,” Tasha said. “That way I’ll know they’re safe.”
“Very well.” He turned to the Dragonmasters. “Escort them to the north barracks, but keep them separate from the other visitors. Take them around the gardens to the side entrance. Avoid the front.” He motioned to the extra soldiers. “Follow them.”
The group of monks from Bora came inside the gate. Feln watched the Bora monks go down the length of the building and disappear around a corner. He stayed hidden until everyone was gone. He wondered, though, if Sondossasya had seen one of the monks in the group slink into the background and head into the city. He guessed there was another group of monks, and he figured they weren’t going to knock on the door – they were going to find another way to get inside Sabrin.
Rather than risk becoming locked out of the monastery, Feln decided to go back to the celebration and warn Caleth of the situation. All the barracks were guarded, and later tonight those guards would take the important monks into custody. They would probably take them to a secure area for additional questioning or detainment. Who knew what the punishment would be for conspiring to murder the Grand Master, killing Haworu, and murdering Seveth. He almost forgot that Seveth’s death began this, and he shouldn’t forget that Caleth almost suffered the same fate. Only the Grand Master knew about the attack on Caleth. He still wondered, why were the Dragonmasters waiting for Caleth in his room?
