A Monk's Tail

by Kyle Spencer

  Even in the cool dank air down here my lungs begin to burn. I stay behind the two sisters as we turn right then left then left then right, charging full speed along this labyrinth of the dead. An especially loud yelp turns my head back to the darkness behind me. They’re getting closer.

  When I realized what this place was I tried to keep a mental map pinned in my mind; the convent is situated in the southeast corner of the city, close to the wharf and lighthouse and a good distance from Archy’s shop in Old Town. But as the bear and his maus-turned-lantern continue to lead us around these sharp corners and blind twists that mental map goes straight to Hel. As far as I can tell, though, we’re getting closer to the opera house located in the large central plaza.

  The sounds behind me become clearer. Every rasping breath, every stumble, every claw scrape sounds as if it's coming from right behind me. I brave a glance into the dark tunnel at my back but see nothing. Wait, no. There is the faintest of lights far, far behind me. Two tiny dots of green mirror, twin fireflies bouncing up and down in the dark.

  Oh fuck. Much closer than I thought.

  “Archy!” My lungs protest any speech whatsoever, “Trouble!”

  The bear turns the next corner and skids to a halt. He puts Susi on the ground just as he doubles over in a series of raspy wheezes and asthmatic hacking. The warm glow of the luxorbs turns the mold and slime in front of us into a sickly blue vomit. Archy presses on the collapsed stones that block our way and turns back to us with a grimace.

  “Правда.” His breathing is labored and rough. Those years of work in alchemy are really starting to take their toll on him. “Big trouble.”

  Under the Opera House

  This is the third year in a row that this bastard bought out all the chocolate sauce and champagne. I keep telling you that we need to increase our supply! Sooner or later others are going to wise up and undercut us. Fix it.

  - Internal Memo at an Aquarian merchant house

  “Oh gods what do we do?!” Celeste cries.

  Behind us the tunnel resounds with the deranged gibbering of minds trying to grasp at forgotten speech. The sound almost strikes me as funny; it reminds me of a past run-in with a rather inept morphling. Morphlings aren’t necessarily dangerous, they just try to steal food and valuables and such. They do so by changing into a form they think its prey would be familiar with. Hence, I encountered a very alluring firefox on one of my travels. And morphlings cannot be distinguished from the real thing by sight, smell, taste, or touch (heh, good times). But the one thing they can’t replicate is language. It knew Common well enough (who names a language ‘Common’ anyways?), but when I tried to strike up a conversation in my native tongue - Firefoxish? Firefoxxi? Whatever. - it became frazzled and started spouting a bunch of nonsense at me. So rule of thumb: know a few obscure languages just in case.

  But that’s what this sounds like: a herd of morphlings blabbering down a dark tunnel. But they aren’t morphlings. They’re nuns bitten by mythic vampyres and turned into blind raging thralls intent on ripping us apart, which is considerably worse than morphlings.

  “Whatever we do, it better be quick.” I figure the nun horde will descend upon us within the minute.

  “Professor Zott, please ready your hammer.” Talia steps to the pile of rubble blocking our way.

  “Yes my dear.” Archy wheezes and hoists his hammer. His grip is a bit shaky. Talia lays both paws on the stones and takes a few deep breathes. Soon fog comes out with each exhale and she starts to shiver. The stones in front of her take on a thick glaze of ice. Tiny flowers of frost blossom on her fur as the ice thickens and turns opaque. The stones begin to groan and crack with the temperature change until a series of gunshots makes all of us jump.

  The ice has split a lot of the larger stones.

  Talia steps back and lets Zott have at it with his hammer. A few solid swings shatters the obstruction enough that all of us can squeeze through with our bear alchemist being the last one. He stumbles out of the narrow passage he made and whirls back around just as the first nun turns the corner.

  In the dim light her habit looks soaked in oil. Her eyes are gleaming mirrors of hate and madness. She bares her teeth, broken and bloody, and scrambles towards the opening. Archy roars and wails against the upper stones. They shatter into flakes of rock and ice and a low rumble echoes through the tunnels. The rest of us back away as the savage sister begins to claw her way through the shrinking hole. Other nuns round the corner and rake and bite at the closing passageway.

  One final, mighty swing closes it again.

  “That was close call.” Archy sighs and takes off his vest, wrapping it around the still-shivering Talia. “We are lucky to have such quick-thinking friends as you.” He says with a warm smile that the firefox returns. His smile wanes as he glares at me reproachfully. “Isn’t that right, Bow?”

  I throw up my paws. “Okay, okay. I might’ve overreacted back there.”

  “Keine Scheiẞe.” Susi spits.

  “Look, I’m sorry. And thanks for, y’know, saving my life and all that.” I stick out a paw and Susi hesitantly shakes it. We both know that we’ll return to this conversation later.

  “Well, we need our token dumbass.” She smiles, the chain around her neck bobbing. A thought strikes me and I nab the crystal vial and slip it off the maus’ neck.

  “And where in Hel’s name were you?” I put an eye to the glass. Cloudy wisps float lazily inside. But no Leena. After a second the pendant begins to glow its usual blue and the slender form of a naked fox coalesces out of the vapors. She yawns and rubs her eyes.

  “Huh? What?”

  “I said where were you? A lot of stuff has happened recently, like getting chased by killer bats, getting chased by killer nuns. Oh, and I got stabbed. Twice!”

  “Three times, technically.” Archy corrects.

  “Three times!”

  “*Yaaaawwwwnnnn*, stop complaining. You’re still alive.”

  “Wait…have you been asleep this whole time?”

  “After eating ice cream at the bear’s place,” Leena says. I turn to Susi and she mouths ‘all the ice cream’, “I just fell asleep I guess. Must’ve had something to do with being captured by that spirit.”

  “So it was a spirit.” I rub my chin thoughtfully. “Anyways, want to go get more ice cream?” Leena’s response lights up the vial like a midday sun, illuminating almost the whole of the corridor ahead of us. We cautiously make our way forward, always listening for signs of our pursuers.

  After an eternity following the blue light of our resident water spirit we feel a low hum permeating the stone walls, shaking tiny drops of funky-smelling water from the green gunk hanging off the walls and ceiling. We all pause and listen. The hum grows louder, then softer, then stops. Then it suddenly comes back in full force.

  “The fuck is that?” I ask. Everyone else shrugs but Celeste. She stands there thinking, then her eyes light up.

  “It’s the opera! It must be!” She excitedly takes my paw and leads me out ahead of the pack. We hurry along, pausing every so often to listen for the ever-growing hum. Soon we are standing before a spiral staircase. A muffled baritone descends the stone steps, regaling us of someone's strange misfortunes:

  What’s this?

  What’s this?

  It’s strange I dare to say.

  It seems that there is a chimera in my trousers today.

  (It seems that there is a chimera in his trousers today.)

  I’m beginning to like opera now.

  Celeste giggles and does a little dance. “They’re performing There’s a Chimera in my Trousers! I’ve always wanted to see it but the Abbess said that it was inappropriate and unseemly for a sister to attend such a performance.”

  “I think we can make an exception given the circumstances.” I smile. She blushes as we climb the stairs together. The stones here aren’t as slick as the rest of the catacombs and the air has a dry, back-of-the-closet smell to it. We spiral up an
d up until we hit a wall of wooden planks. The music and singing is much clearer up here. Right now it seems that our hero’s trouser chimera is attracting a lot of attention from the ladies.

  “Archy, if you would be so kind.” I faux bow to the bear and make room for him. He bows back and doesn’t even use his hammer. A heavy boot makes short work of the crackly planks. Dust motes float lazily around us in the beams of dim light that now pierce through. Long colorful fabrics hang in front of the broken wood. Behind them is a large room with various things lining the walls.

  “Looks like some kind of storage area.” Talia runs a finger along various props and masks, leaving a snail trail through the half inch of dust that cakes everything. “Maybe it was built over and forgotten? I don’t see any exit.”

  “I know this exit is going away. Give me a hand, Archy.” I struggle to move a heavy dresser in front of the entrance to the staircase. Archy strides over and has much less trouble. With the catacombs sealed away, it’s time to find a way out. The opera rings all around us but is loudest above and to the right.

  “I think we’re under the stage.” Susi says. I nod and give a knowing look at the professor. He pats his hammer and nods.

  The ceiling isn’t too high up; Zott can place his palms flat on it. He shuffles around and awkwardly assumes a wide stance. Holding the hammer between his legs he swings it upwards. The blow splinters the wood and light rains down on us. The music and singing stop momentarily before continuing. Again he swings his hammer, this time breaking through the ceiling and scattering shivers of wood everywhere. The music stops as Archy clears the hole of any remaining shards. He drops his tool and entwines his fingers together.

  “Ladies first.” He says to Sister Celeste with a wink. She giggles and puts a foot in his waiting palms. She ascends up into the beam of light like some celestial being (...wait) and disappears above.

  Before Archy can bring his arms back down there’s a blood curdling scream from above.

  Impressario

  Djambi! It’s Thursday again! Bring out the chocolate sauce and champagne!

  - Impressario

  Immediately I rush into Archy’s waiting paws. I’m not so much lifted as thrown tail over tea kettle up through the gap in the ceiling. As I shoot through the hole bright lights from all around blind me just long enough that I don’t see the floor coming towards my face. Feel it, though. Rubbing my nose, I blink away the stars and squiggles only to realize I’m face-to-face with a chimera.

  A chimera with googly eyes and felt tongues poking out of dopey smiles.

  Sticking out of a wolf’s trousers.

  ...Oh shit.

  “It’s okay guys.” I whisper back down. “Come on up.”

  The wolf glowers at me and taps his foot impatiently, causing the tiny chimera to goofily bounce up and down. The entire theater is silent as the others emerge from the hole one by one. Talia is the first one out and she freezes on the spot under the bright glare of the theater lights. Susi does the same when she emerges. A thunderous clomp! echoes as Archy’s hammer hits the stage followed by a softer thud as the bear pulls himself up and out.

  “What are you doing here?” The wolf grits his teeth, chimera still bobbing out of his crotch. “And why is he naked? You’re ruining everything!”

  Gotta think fast. I turn towards the audience and throw out my hands in the most dramatic way possible. “Hark, ye!” Talia groans behind me. I turn to see the wolf burying his face in his paws. “For we…are the Four Muses of Hel’s domain!”

  “Five muses.” Talia whispers in my ear.

  “No. There are four.” I whisper back.

  “But there’s five of us here.”

  “So? Five muses just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Just go with it okay?”

  “Fine.” Back to the audience. “We are the Four Muses and a bear!” More groans from Talia.

  The boos wash over us before I can begin my big soliloquy. Even the other actors are booing. The wolf tears the chimera away with a papery riiiiiip and chucks it to the floor. Paws wave around as he motions for the ushers to come and take us away. In response, two very well-dressed and very large aurox with silver-tipped horns make their way down the aisles towards us. As they ascend to the stage and roll up their sleeves a voice cuts through the jeers and hisses.

  “Stoooooooop!” The voice brings everything else to a whisper. From the central back door a large figure glides down the aisle towards us. At first nothing but a shadow, it’s revealed in the bright lights to be rather large cat reclined on a wheeled kline made of plush red velour. The colorful silks draped over him shimmer as he sips from a gold chalice, the jeweled rings on his fingers clinking together as he lifts the cup to his mouth. His flaxen fur has the same oily shine as the cloth that covers him and it ripples as his transport comes to a halt. Behind him a muscular aurox holds on to a gold bar attached to the sofa. He’s wearing finely patterned silk trousers but no shirt. The light glistens off his oiled pecs. The horns on his head are shaved close to his scalp and are covered with gold caps.

  There’s only one person in Aquarian known for this much opulence and he runs this opera house. He holds more sway in this city than any other two people combined. He can ruin a noble on a whim or elevate a beggar to the highest heights of glory.

  With a swift, graceful bow I start to apologize. “Impressario, our humblest apologies. You see we were-” Impressario holds up a bejeweled paw.

  “No need to apologize.” His voice is high and smooth, like his throat is constantly coated in oil. There’s a sing-song rhythm to the way he speaks. “I have seen this o-pe-ra three hundred and forty seven times and I dare say that I was beginning to grow bored with it. Even Djambi here and his magic fingers can’t provide enough distraction nowadays. But then you come bursting out of the floor and have given new life to what was becoming such a drab display. My! But you are a handsome...monk, is it? It’s the beads. Oh yes, I am quite fa-mi-li-ar with such implements. And a firefox as well? So exotic…” He strokes his whiskers thoughtfully as he eyes me up and down.

  “Please, Mr. Impressario,” Celeste steps forward, “We could use your help. You see-”

  “Oh, my dear, sweet sister!” The Cat drops his chalice on the ground, spilling a rich brown liquid smelling of alcohol and spices, “You look like you’ve been through something awful! Come! Let us retire to my private quarters where I shall provide you all with new clothes and the finest food and drink. But in return you must tell me your story. And leave out no detail, no matter how ghastly or lurid. Oh Djambi! I think tonight we shall break open the hundred-year Chateau de Ivre. All twenty bottles!”

  Djambi wheels his master around and back up the aisle. Impresario waves a dismissive hand, “I declare tonight’s o-pe-ra a smashing success! I look forward to tomorrow night’s performance!”

  We leave a dumbstruck audience and follow Impressario out of the theater and into the gilded foyer. A door off to the side opens up to a large set of stairs with a built-in ramp. Without word or effort, Djambi wheels the sofa up five flights to Impressario’s private quarters. At the large mahogany double doors, the cat is wheeled back around towards us.

  “In my home you shall want for nothing! Please relax and help yourselves to your most innermost desires, your most basic instincts. I bid you welcome!” Djambi opens the doors and the five of us stand there, jaws stuck to the floor.

  I have seen palaces that weren’t as a lavish. The floor matches the mahogany doors and are polished to a blinding sheen. Marble busts - all of them of Impressario - line the frescoed walls which depict various scenes of decadence and debauchery. The furniture looks so soft that it should be a sin to sit in them. One corner has a changing screen made of feathers from a Bird of Paradise. On the opposite side is a simple yet elegant wet bar with shelves stacked tightly with bottles of every size, color, and shape. Each wall has a door with a symbol carved into it. Djambi wheels Impressario to the center of the room where the he instru
cts us.

  “Before I start, I don’t believe we have been properly introduced yet.” The five of us take turns telling him our names. “Ah! Wonderful! Now, here is the music room. That door leads to the baths. The door behind me is the entertainment room where I - ahem - entertain guests. And that door, only the most adventurous get to go through.”

  “Your bedroom?” I hazard a guess.

  “Mmm indeed.” Impressario’s jade eyes give me the once-over. He snaps his fingers and Djambi goes over to the bar. With the ease and speed of someone who has done this every day for years, he places six glasses on the bar, carefully pulls out a large green bottle from the stack behind him, and pours out six perfect amounts of white wine. The scent of vanilla and toast fills the room. The aurox put the drinks on a tray and hands a glass to all of us. Starting with Impressario, naturally.

  I let the wine breath for a second and take a sip. It’s like drinking candy. Sweet, fruity, alcoholic candy. I nod my approval and offer Djambi my glass. Impressario holds out his paw with a frown.

  “You’re kind gesture is warmly accepted; however, Djambi does not imbibe unless it’s for a special occasion.” He stops to stroke his whiskers again. “Hmmmm... I must admit though, you’re sudden entrance at the opera has aroused my passions. All of them. You may partake, Djambi, for tonight we shall party like the Aquarian’s of old.” He takes another sip and winks at me. “You know the ones I mean.”

  I honestly don’t. But I can imagine.

  He continues, “Djambi will be bringing out a change of clothes for you shortly. I hope you will take me up on my offer of the baths. I can imagine that running around the catacombs makes one feel rather unclean. And not in the good way.” He smiles wryly at us.

  “You knew we came from the catacombs?” Susi asks. Her glass is already finished and her cheeks are turning flush.

  “My dear adorable maus, do you not think I don’t know the ins and outs of my own o-pe-ra house? Oh! But a monk and two nuns gallivanting around the underbelly of this fine city at night. How deliciously scandalous! Djambi! The clothes!” He shifts his weight and takes another sip. “I am ever so curious as to why though.”