“I believe they are,” he said, “though it is of an unfamiliar variety. I do sense something, but cannot decide what it is.” He stopped and put his hand to the rock at his feet. “Fascinating.”
They continued on their way and soon were crossing the drawbridge—which was down—and going through the massive portcullis into the gatehouse.
“Ho there,” a voice called from just inside the tunnel in the gatehouse, “what is your business at Whitehall?”
Two men in boiled leather armor, one carrying a shield and the other with a crossbow cradled loosely in his arms, came up to them. Their swords were sheathed and Palusa Filk noted their easy manner. They are not expecting trouble, she thought. This is just routine for them.
One of the men—the one with the shield—stepped ahead of the other. “It’s an honor to welcome not one, but two Zouyim monks to Whitehall. Your like hasn’t been seen in many years. My name is Martin Steeves. May I have the privilege of escorting you to our leader?”
Torim Jet bowed to the men. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Martin Steeves. I am Torim Jet and this is Palusa Filk. We would appreciate your guidance greatly. Would you know if Rindu Zose is present? We would very much like to see him.”
“I’m sorry, but Master Rindu isn’t in the keep. I believe he’ll be back tonight. In the meantime, I’ll take you to Dr. Walt.”
“Thank you. I have met Dr. Walt. It will be good to speak with him again.”
Martin said a few words to the other guard and then turned to the monks. “Please, follow me.”
Chapter 22
The two Zouyim and Martin Steeves set off through the tunnel, passing through a massive set of metal-bound wooden doors and under another open portcullis. Before reaching the next portcullis, they turned and used a side door that led to an open area. Torim Jet whispered to Palusa Filk that this area was called the bailey, or sometimes just the courtyard.
As they traveled, Palusa followed the guard mindlessly. She focused her attention on the grand scale of the place. Everything was so big, it was hard to believe. She stared up at the thick stone block making up the walls of the keep and tried to imagine it all being constructed. She couldn’t. Even knowing how to use the rohw to lighten massive blocks so they could be moved, it was beyond her understanding how such structures could be built.
The white walls glared in the sunlight, dominating her vision wherever she looked. How had the color been changed from gray to white? For that matter, how had it been changed from the black of the Arzbedim to the gray color when the Gray Man occupied it? Was it the use of the rohw or something else?
Palusa Filk thought she saw a stand of trees around one edge of the keep and wondered if it was natural or a cultivated park. The entire place was so massive, it boggled the mind. She had to explore it.
As the three made their way to the main building of the keep, she shivered when she saw the arrow slits in the walls and remembered the story of how the Sapsyra had come to attack the Gray Man. She could not help but to flick her eyes back to the holes in the wall that were specifically made for shooting arrows at people who were exactly where she was now.
Soon, they were through a door and into the interior of the keep. Many turns and what seemed to be miles of walking through hallways later, they had stopped at a set of large double doors. Martin Steeves knocked on the doors and a strong, but obviously older, voice rang out. “Come in.”
The guardsman opened the door and stepped aside, allowing the monks to enter the room. Palusa Filk’s eyes widened when she saw what the room contained. It was some sort of library, with hundreds of books and scrolls on shelves, on tables, or arranged within wooden frames. She had never seen so much written material. Even the library that had been at the Zouyim temple could not compare.
She looked over and saw Torim Jet with his mouth open, eyes scanning the room, a hungry look on his face. She knew he was feeling the same things she was.
“Ah, Torim Jet,” said a tall, stooped man with messy white hair. “It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you are safe and that you made it here. We can definitely use your help.”
“Dr. Walt,” Master Jet said, “it is good to see you again as well.” The master bowed and saluted the taller man. “Please let me introduce my sister Zouy, Palusa Filk. I just found out not many days past that she was still alive. Palusa Filk, this is Dr. Walt, scholar and traveling companion of Brother Rindu.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Palusa Filk,” the man said to her. It was then that she noticed the other man in the room. She had been so preoccupied with looking at the books and scrolls, she hadn’t noticed him.
“This,” Dr. Walt said, “is my friend Danaba Kemp, here to help us from his…uh…abode in the south.”
The other man nodded companionably to the two monks, a big smile playing on his face. He was compact, shorter than the other two in the room, but built solidly. His brown eyes met hers and he removed the triangular hat from his head and bowed. His clothing, of obvious quality, provided him room for movement yet still looked comfortable and snug. The green color of his ensemble looked to be functional in camouflaging him in the forest as well. The sword strapped to his back and the dueling dagger that hung from his belt looked to be of good quality and as if they had seen heavy use.
“Greetings!” Danaba Kemp said. “It is my pleasure indeed to meet yet two more Zouyim monks. After so many years without any report of those of your order, it’s nice to know that Master Rindu is not the only one left. Please, sit. No need for us to be formal. I myself have just arrived and was discussing matters with Dr. Walt. Things that may interest you.”
Dr. Walt looked embarrassed. “Oh, my,” he said. “Forgive me. Your arrival has made me forget my manners. Would you like something to drink? Dinner will be served in an hour or so, but I can send for some bread and cheese to tide us over until then.”
“Thank you,” Torim Jet told him, “but there is no need for that. Some water would be appreciated. We can wait until later to eat.” He looked toward Palusa. She nodded.
“Splendid,” Dr. Walt said, motioning toward the chairs at a nearby table. All four sat. “Martin, thank you. Could you please send a steward in on your way back to your post? We must have rooms prepared for our guests.” The guard nodded, smiled at the monks, and left.
Palusa Filk had taken the opportunity to scan the bookshelves again. She noticed Torim Jet doing the same thing.
Dr. Walt noticed their searching eyes. “Feel free to read here whenever you like,” he said. “This is just one library, and not even the largest one. I like to use this room for a meeting hall since I am here quite often doing research and because there is plenty of space. Are you as fond of reading histories as I am?”
“I have never seen so fine a collection,” Torim Jet said as Palusa was nodding emphatically. “I am honored that you would allow me to read here.”
“Not at all, not at all. Those of us who appreciate knowledge are all brothers, as far as I’m concerned.” He looked to Palusa. “And sisters, of course.”
He cleared his throat. “Danaba here has accepted the position of Head of Forces for the new government. We’ll have to create some high-sounding title for him, of course, but for now we can just call him General Kemp.”
“No, not that,” the other man said, chuckling. “Just Danaba is fine for me. I need no new titles.”
“He has graciously agreed to build our army for the new government,” Dr. Walt said.
“A monumental task,” Kemp said, “one for which I expect to be paid handsomely.” He laughed again, clapping Dr. Walt on the back.
“So, Master Jet,” Dr. Walt said, “tell us about what you have been up to since we saw you last. And your story, too, Palusa Filk. We want to hear all about it.”
The four passed the time in discussion until they were informed that dinner was ready. The two monks were shown their rooms so they could put their belongings in them before cleaning up and sitting down at one of
the dining halls. The discussions lasted late into the night, each person sharing stories of daring deeds and danger, the others enthusiastically listening and asking questions. Palusa Filk felt a comraderie she hadn’t felt in many years. It made her hopeful for the future.
“Oh, I must show you the scroll I mentioned,” Dr. Walt said to the monks as they left the dining hall. “Let’s swing by the library and I’ll show it to you. I often sleep in a little cot there because I have so much research to do lately and I have brought some of the most interesting books and scrolls from other libraries there for further study. It’s on the way to your rooms, so it won’t take any longer for you to get settled in.”
“That would be most kind of you,” Torim Jet said. “It has been much too long since I was able to read before bed. The library at the temple was destroyed along with everything else.”
Danaba Kemp was engaged in conversation with Palusa Filk, asking about how life was in the Zouyim Temple. The two dutifully followed the other two men as they headed toward the library. When they came to the door, Dr. Walt reached for the handle and was stopped by Torim Jet’s hand holding him back.
“A moment please, Dr. Walt,” Jet said. He closed his eyes briefly and a look of concentration crossed his face. Palusa Filk and Danaba Kemp stopped talking and watched him.
Torim Jet opened his eyes. “Please step back and stand at the other side of the hall,” he said to Dr. Walt. “There is someone in that room, someone with ill intent, I believe.”
As he said it, Palusa Filk noticed that the room was dark, with no light spilling out from the space beneath the door. The braziers in the library were lit when they had left earlier.
Dr. Walt moved against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor. Torim Jet looked at the other Zouy and at Danaba Kemp and nodded. Kemp drew his sword slowly with his left hand and his dueling dagger with his right. He nodded back at the Master.
When Torim Jet threw open the door, Palusa Filk saw him generate a pulse of rohw and throw it out toward where he knew the braziers to be. Three of them instantly flared to life and the room was flooded with light. Just in front of them, on the left side of the room, a figure was revealed by the firelight. It moved, more quickly than anything should have been able to move, disappearing behind one of the bookshelves.
It was a man, or at least shaped like a man. Tall, thin, and sinuous, it was completely naked except for a small patch of clothing tightly bound around its crotch area. Palusa assumed that meant the it was a “he.” His head, bigger than it should have been for his skinny body, had overlarge eyes, the pupils of which had filled almost the entire orbs before the light shrank them into pinpricks. As they contracted, a semi-clear cover flipped down over them as if to protect them. He had flowed away from them on his flexible limbs, sharp nails on his feet clicking on the stone floor.
Torim Jet rushed into the room, followed closely by Danaba Kemp and Palusa herself. When the three were inside, Master Jet closed the door behind them, to the obvious astonishment of Dr. Walt, if the exclamations he made were any indication.
“Do not let it leave the room,” Torim Jet said as he started toward where the creature had gone.
The two monks and Danaba Kemp circled around the bookshelf behind which the creature went. They moved slowly, carefully, watching intently in all directions so it would not escape. As they surrounded the shelf, Torim Jet snapped his head toward the other side of the room.
“Over there,” he said, moving with blinding speed toward the opposite wall.
He arrived there one step ahead of Palusa Filk, who was in turn one step ahead of Kemp. She saw a blur of movement and Torim Jet was parrying blows and delivering some of his own.
At least, he was trying to do so. The person or whatever this thing was had the flexibility of a snake. He moved and weaved and avoided the master’s strikes as if the monk were standing still. The intruder, in turn, struck out with his sharp fingernails, so long they looked like claws.
Torim Jet was not so easy to strike, however. He defended and attacked, defended and attacked. The two seemed at a stalemate. Palusa Filk, deciding she would tip the balance, rushed in with strikes of her own and found the stranger impossible to hit.
With attacks from both sides, though, Torim Jet was finally able to land a strike. His open-handed blow caught the sinuous opponent in the abdomen, causing him to huff as he was propelled backward toward the wall.
Amazingly, he twisted mid-motion, scrambled toward a window that was half-opened, and dove out into the night.
The three rushed to the window and looked out. There were a few ledges and several balconies on this side of the keep, but they could not see any sign of the intruder. He—it—was gone.
The three combatants looked at each other, out through the window into the night, and then back at one another. Danaba Kemp shrugged and pulled the window closed, locking it and tugging to make sure it was shut fast. Palusa wondered at the mechanism that allowed the window to open and close. She had never seen such a device.
“Master Jet,” she said, “what was that thing?”
“I do not know,” he said, “but it is clear he was here to capture or kill Dr. Walt. It is only providence that caused us to be here to foil the attack.”
The three were silent. A knocking on the door rang out. “I say,” they heard in a muffled voice, “is it all right for me to come in now? Has the danger passed?”
Danaba Kemp sheathed his sword and dagger and opened the door. “Come on in, Dr. Walt. The assassin has fled.”
The old man’s eyes grew wide. “Assassin? Dear me, why would you think it was an assassin?”
“It’s the only thing that fits,” Danaba Kemp answered. “He was waiting for you in the room in which you are accustomed to sleep or study until late in the night. With the way he fought, he was obviously a skilled combatant. He didn’t even use weapons, just his sharp nails. They looked like an animal’s claws. Still, he fought us to a standstill.”
“But why would an assassin be after me?” Dr. Walt asked. “I’m nobody important.”
“Oh,” Torim Jet said, “but you are. You are gathering together the leaders from many places in Gythe. You are organizing them and attempting to create a united government. There are those who would like to stop that from happening.”
“I see.” Dr. Walt’s face lost its color. “I’m an old man, too old for an adventure like this. What can we do?”
Danaba Kemp answered. “I have brought some of my Red Fangs with me.” Dr. Walt’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “Not the ones who were bandits at heart. Honorable men who had no other way to survive but to resort to banditry, like me. Anyway, there are several who are very competent and with whom I’d entrust my life. I will create from them a special detail to act as your bodyguards. As my first act as commander of the new government’s forces, I order you to be under guard every minute until we can come up with something better.”
Dr. Walt’s gaze dropped to the ground. He sighed. “I suppose that’s best. I have lived much of my life in Gythe running and hiding from agents of the Gray Man. I guess having a bodyguard won’t be too much more of an inconvenience.”
Danaba Kemp slapped the older man on the back. “That’s the spirit. Torim, Palusa, are you able to stay with Dr. Walt while I gather a few of the guards? It shouldn’t take long, but we don’t know where the assassin went, so I’d rather be careful.”
“Of course,” Torim Jet said. “We will stay here. It will be pleasant to look at some of the books and scrolls and I am sure we have much to discuss.”
“Good, good,” Kemp said. “I’ll be back with the guards as soon as I can. Thank you.” He left at a jog.
Dr. Walt turned to Torim Jet, who had a pensive look on his face. “Torim, what did the assassin look like? Was he or she wearing a uniform or anything else that may help us with identification?”
“No,” Master Jet said. “In fact, he was wearing nothing but some cloth wrapped around his waist and
crotch area. Otherwise, he was bare.”
“Bare,” the doctor said. “It’s cold out there. Why would an assassin be moving around with no clothes?”
“I do not believe the assassin was human,” Torim Jet said calmly. “I do now know what else he could be, but I do not think he was entirely human. He reminds me of the riati, humanoid but not quite human.”
Dr. Walt’s eyes narrowed. “Please describe this assassin to me.”
Palusa Filk answered. “He was very tall, perhaps close to seven feet, very skinny, with no hair visible anywhere on his body. His head was larger than it should have been for a human and his eyes were even bigger still. They seemed perfectly adapted for seeing in almost total darkness, if the response of his pupils are any indication. I saw a protective layer flip down onto his eyes when the light flared. It looked to be able to shield his sight from the sudden flash, preventing him from being blinded.
“He moved like a serpent. He was very fast and very difficult to hit. At first, I thought I could see his bones through his skin, but realized when I was closer that what I saw were the actual strings of muscle.”
“And his flesh felt like leather when I struck him,” Torim Jet added.
“Most remarkable,” Dr. Walt said. “I believe I may know what we’re dealing with here. It may take me some time to find the correct book, but it should be in this room. Something I read a few weeks ago. Skimmed, really. I was looking for information about the origin of this fortress and got sidetracked by a history that had been rewritten from one of the scrolls to book form. The topic was fascinating, delving into the time before the Great War and then discussing the war effort itself. I had planned on reading it more thoroughly, but…”
Dr. Walt trailed off. Palusa Filk saw Torim Jet’s eyes glazing over and she realized hers probably had been doing the same.
“Anyway, I’ll try to find it. Make yourselves comfortable and read anything you’d like.” He went off to look for the book he mentioned as the Zouyim wandered the shelves looking for something to read.
Harmonic Magic Series Boxed Set Page 69
