The Flame Iris Temple

by Colin Glassey

  Sandun had no strong feelings about the worship of Eston. Although his wife and her cousins Jay and Ven took the religion very seriously, he considered it a mistaken religion, its core tenets not just wrong but impractical in this world. Lord Vaina had spent several years in the Yellow Dragon Monastery, a time he often made fun of. When the monastery was destroyed by Kitran soldiers, Lord Vaina had joined the Red Swords and never looked back. If anyone could judge the value of Eston’s temples and monasteries, Lord Vaina was that man.

  However, Sandun started to imagine what would happen in Kelten if King Pandion decided to solve his fiscal difficulties by taking land from the Temple of Sho’Ash. In truth, this very question was debated by some of the less religious at the schools of Tebispoli. Given how much of Kelten’s land was owned by the Temple, there was good reason to question why so much farmland was dedicated to support the thousands of temples of Sho’Ash. But such talk never amounted to any change, for the Temple of Sho’Ash was powerful, immensely powerful. Crusades had been launched against heretical rulers who dared to tax the Temple or defy its rules against unjust murder or taking multiple wives. But were the temples of Eston organized? Not that Sandun had noticed. Aside from the belief of its many followers, what power did the temples and monasteries of Eston actually have?

  Sandun offered one objection. “You told me that in the Yellow Dragon Monastery, there were some very old men in residence. Surely the old monks, lacking families, skills, and health, must have somewhere to live out their days?”

  “Yes, obviously not all the monasteries can be closed,” Lord Vaina said. “Where now there are close to a thousand monasteries in Kunhalvar and Zelkat, perhaps two hundred must remain open and continue to be supported by their tenant farmers as they are now. Ussi gave me an estimate yesterday. He thinks there are more than ten thousand monks and more than two thousand nuns. I think he is underestimating those numbers. But if even a third of those men were added to my army, all my losses from these last months would be rectified. It would be like throwing a net into a school of fish, so easy.”

  “Earlier this day, a priest of Eston came and sat beside me,” Sandun said thoughtfully, remembering River Reed and his glowing presence in the second world. “He, at least, has a noble spirit. There may be others like him.”

  Lord Vaina stood up and walked over to the shuttered window. Lifting a brass handle attached to a chain, he opened a small inner window and looked out into the night. “I know that also,” he said softly. “At the Yellow Dragon, there were two, no, three who matched the ideal: calm like deep, still water; wise in word; never unkind even to young men like me who burned with passion. They taught me how to read, how to think.” Lord Vaina sighed and fastened shut the little window. “Few actions are pure. Little of what I order is wholly good. No matter what I do, there will be harm. Even by inaction—especially by inaction—harm will come to many. But I try to weigh the good against the bad, as do all leaders worthy of the name.

  “There are too many monasteries, too many monks, too much gold and silver locked away in treasure chambers without any purpose. I knew this had to be fixed, but fear blocked me from taking this step. Fear of being cursed, fear of the monks and priests praying for my defeat. But if an adesari has blessed me, why should I care what the priests say in their temples? I can do this, Sandun, and I should.

  “In Serica, the abbots of Eston don’t work together. They are all masters of their small domains, forever jealous of each other and nursing petty grievances that date back centuries. By leaving some monasteries open, the ones who remain will stay silent for fear they will be closed, and the monks from closed monasteries will be forbidden to complain as they will no longer be priests or monks.

  “This will work, Sandun! I will not go bankrupt. I will not have my salt notes turned into mere paper, useless but for the lighting of fires. I will be king of Serica, and the monks and priests of Eston will aid me to that end, willingly or no!”

  “What will you do about the Red Swords?” Sandun asked. “Many of your soldiers wore red on the road to Kemeklos. The Red Swords gave us great aid in the northern campaign before their leaders betrayed Minister Renieth and myself.”

  “I will do nothing about them,” Lord Vaina said firmly. “I have Habaluk, the Radiant Prince, under guard in a secret fort near Semnihali. He is a problem, but one for which the best answer is the passage of time. The Red Swords are dying. The Mavana didn’t come to save Kemeklos despite the Red Prophet’s repeated promises. Instead, an adesari came to save you.” Lord Vaina paused and shook his head. “Be that as it may be. Governor Vellen reports that in Sasuvi, the people are sick of the Red Swords because none of the prophecies came true. The Red Prophet is dead, and with him the heart and soul of the movement has passed. Just last month, Minister Udek suggested that I close their temples here in Tokolas, but I will not. They are disappearing without my lifting a finger. There is no purpose in stabbing a shark hauled onto the shore—it will expire before the day is ended. In time, all the Red Swords will follow me. Where else will they go? To whom would they turn?”

  As he spoke, Miri and Lady Eun reentered the room, and Miri bowed to Lord Vaina and said, “Congratulations, Lord Vaina.”

  Sandun looked at his wife questioningly. Miri smiled back but lowered her eyes and did not explain.

  “Thank you, Lady Miri,” Lord Vaina said as he gazed with pride at Lady Eun. “Perhaps, now that your husband has returned, you can help my wife while away the hours. It would please me if you would spend time each week, keeping her company, till the baby is born.”

  “Indeed, that would be most kind,” Eun said smoothly but, to Sandun’s perception, unconvincingly. What was the relation between his wife and Lord Vaina’s Shila wife? Sandun didn’t know. They were from rival houses, but did that matter now that they were both married and very far from home?

  That evening, he and Miri made love with abandon. When she slept, he lay beside her for hours, thinking with pride about his victory over the demon of Tokolas.

  At the council meeting the next day, Lord Vaina outlined his proposal to close down eight out of every ten monasteries and nunneries of Eston. The civilian officials were all outwardly enthusiastic. Sandun could see that some of the men around the table, such as Tivadin, the minister of justice, had reservations. Lord Vaina expected several of his advisors would not be happy, but he told Sandun that he doubted any of the ministers would raise a serious objection.

  Valo Peli, the minister of war, said wryly, “Our chances for an alliance with the Kingdom of Shila will be greatly reduced by this move, but they share a common cause with us against the Kitran Empire regardless.”

  General Modi wanted to know if any action was to be taken against the Red Swords, and Lord Vaina assured his cousin that no action was planned so long as they remained loyal. The other generals on the council had no strong feelings on the matter as few soldiers followed the teachings of Eston.

  The only real note of dissent came from Number Eight, Lord Vaina’s spymaster. “My lord, the priests of Eston have been disengaged from the wars these last twenty years and, for that reason, I have made no effort to recruit agents within the monasteries or within the priesthood. My guess is that this proposal of yours will provoke some counterreaction, and while I will start the process of recruiting spies, that will take time. For the next year, I can offer you little information. If plots arise against you because of this, I will not be able to warn you. This may be too dangerous. If you wait for six months, that would be better.”

  “I understand, Number Eight, and I am willing to run the risk,” Lord Vaina said expansively. “It would take a year or more for the abbots to set aside their differences sufficient for them to begin working against my government. By then, it will be too late. This reduction of partially abandoned monasteries will be conducted in the fashion of a military campaign, like our recent Northern Expedition. I will use the army t
o close the monasteries following a strict timetable and in accord with lists prepared by the Ministry of Finance.”

  “My lord, this has been done before,” Valo Peli said. “Once in the years before the founding of the Gold Kingdom by a king who ruled over both Monovar and Godalo and again in the middle years of the Gold Kingdom after the death of King Noll the puppet.”

  “Quite so. The minister of war remembers his history,” Chancellor Udek interjected with evident pleasure at the chance to show off his own equal knowledge of the past. “The reduction of monasteries as well as many temples in the great cities was instigated by the regent, following King Noll’s death. It rolled out slowly, over several years. By the third year, monks living in places scheduled for closure were fighting pitched battles with the king’s soldiers, and quite a few monasteries were burned to the ground with a significant loss of life and destruction of property. We must avoid repeating the mistakes of the past.”

  “What do you recommend?” Lord Vaina asked.

  “As you outlined,” Udek replied. “We must move swiftly, decisively, and with as little warning as possible. This winter is a good time to undertake the operation, as no enemy attacks can be expected when snow and freezing rain blanket the earth. Above all, keep the monks guessing about which places will close and which will remain open.”

  “Then I want all the ministries involved in the planning,” Lord Vaina said. “War, Ritual, Finance, Works, Personnel…well, perhaps not Justice. Even though this is necessary for the survival of the state, I can’t argue that kicking out monks in the winter is a just policy.”

  Minister Tivadin nodded briefly but kept his eyes down.

  “Make no mistake, the purpose of this operation is financial,” Lord Vaina continued. “We need money, which we can use to pay off our soldiers, build up the navy, and keep Kunhalvar and Zelkat strong. I want the richest monasteries and nunneries closed. I want plans in place for what to do with the young acolytes and novitiates. How will the lands be sold? How will we move the aged and infirm to the remaining monasteries? Who will run the monasteries while they are being closed? This is a great challenge. Are you up for it, Chancellor Udek?”

  “I am, my lord, and I am eager for the job.”

  “You mentioned Zelkat province, my lord,” Valo Peli said. “Will we close the temples and monasteries in Zelkat as well?”

  “Naturally, I will send an outline of my plans to Governor Vellen in Sasuvi,” Lord Vaina answered. “But I believe he has his hands full already. He may choose to copy our policy now, or wait for a year, at his discretion.” Lord Vaina stood and put his hands on the table and gazed at his ministers with his deep, intense eyes. “News of this will reach the priests of Eston, I have no doubt. For now, this is just a proposal, albeit an urgent one. Let me deal with the priests and the abbots who come to complain. From you, I expect detailed plans before the longest night. Burn the midnight oil, yes?”

  News that Lord Vaina’s government was drawing up plans to close the monasteries and nunneries of Eston reached the local abbots very quickly indeed. Apparently, some members of Kunhalvar’s bureaucracy were believers in Eston, and they leaked the plans to their coreligionists—just as Lord Vaina had predicted.

  The first abbot to arrive was from the Pure Thought Pure Mind Monastery, located twenty tik southwest of Tokolas. Lord Vaina asked Sandun to stay by his side at the meeting. Lord Vaina sat on his governor’s chair, a rather large piece of furniture painted bright blue and set on a raised section of the floor. Sandun had seen Lord Vaina sit in it only one time before this day. The abbot, an older but still spry man wearing his formal robes and a hood of folded cloth over his head, was offered a smaller chair facing the governor.

  The abbot, after some preliminary talk of blessings and praise for the governor’s wise administration, mentioned that he had heard a wild rumor that many if not all the monasteries throughout Kunhalvar were going to be closed. He had come to hear the governor’s own words on this matter.

  Lord Vaina made a show of looking over a set of papers, loosely bound on the table in front of him, and then he looked at the abbot sitting below him with mild eyes.

  “My ministers have recommended that your residence, officially listed as the home for fifty monks, be closed, but I see your neighbor, the Abode of the White Cloud, will remain open. This report says the White Cloud Monastery has just thirty elderly monks who are very strict in their observances and pray every day for the well-being of the world. Tell me, why shouldn’t I close your residence and leave the White Cloud open?”

  The abbot followed Lord Vaina’s script as though he memorized his lines in advance. His face grew red as he shook his head in denial. “Governor, I can assure you, the Abode of the White Cloud is nothing like what your report says. They eat meat at least once a week! There are far more than forty monks living there, young and old. Constant prayer? More like constant singing and drunkenness. If any monastery should be closed, let it be that one. Those sad excuses for monks at the ‘Dirty Cloud’ give a bad name to all proper monks that follow Eston’s teachings. We at Pure Thought Pure Mind are nothing like them.”

  “Very well. Send evidence of what you say, and this decision will be reversed,” Lord Vaina told the abbot with his most sincere voice. “But I wonder why my officials were mistaken in this matter. Perhaps they were misinformed or deliberately deceived? I have the time, so perhaps I should inspect both the Pure Thought and the White Cloud—today.”

  As the abbot considered Lord Vaina’s words, his face gradually took on a grayish hue, and he swallowed hard. “My…my lord, we would, of course, welcome your visit. But give us time to prepare for your arrival. Things are not as…we are not ready to receive your august personage. We need time to clean the premises.”

  “If my official reports are mistaken, then there is no time to lose. I cannot make my decisions based on false information. Scribe?”

  “Yes, Governor?” Lord Vaina’s recorder set his pen down with an expectant air.

  “Send word to the West Gate cavalry,” Lord Vaina said sharply. “I want one hundred horsemen ready in an hour. Guards?” His personal guards saluted him. “I require twenty men, mounted, here. Before the next bell.”

  The abbot’s repeated entreaties to delay were ignored.

  “Find the abbot a suitable place for him to meditate until I return. I do not doubt that when the truth of his words are revealed, he will have gained merit for honesty while others who have practiced deception will be severely punished.”

  Sandun followed Lord Vaina as the governor left the hall, issuing more orders as he descended the stairs. Sandun saw that the sky was covered with clouds; it appeared rain was likely in the afternoon. Still, he was looking forward to a brisk ride and visiting one of the monasteries of Eston that had captured Lord Vaina’s attention.

  However, the abbot, seeing Lord Vaina’s determination, threw himself on the ground in front of the governor and begged for forgiveness.

  “My lord! Please stop. Please! I have failed in my duties as leader of the Pure Thought Monastery. I acknowledge that there are more men living at the residence than are allowed. And people have donated food to us that…that we are not allowed to consume. I will resign my position as abbot and let an older, holier man take my place. I beg you, do not punish all the monks at the Pure Thought Monastery because of my errors.”

  “And what of the Abode of the White Cloud?” Lord Vaina said cuttingly. “Is everything you said false? Or are my officials wrong about some monasteries but right about others?”

  The abbot kept his face to the stone slabs and said nothing.

  Speaking to his messenger, Lord Vaina said, “My inspection is canceled for today. Inform Chancellor Udek that the Pure Thought Pure Mind Monastery is to be closed with immediate effect. Take the former abbot here to the Ministry of Justice, where I’m sure they will find a suitable job for him. Perhap
s pumping water out of one of the dry docks?”

  As the dejected former abbot was led away, Lord Vaina said to Sandun, “So it begins—the cleansing of the monasteries! I tell you, Sandun, this has been a secret desire of mine for years, hidden away, locked inside chambers of forbidden thoughts. But you don’t fear the priests of Eston. If a hundred priests gathered together in a room, chanting curses at you, you wouldn’t care, would you? Their words mean nothing!”

  “I wouldn’t be quite so extreme, my lord. I don’t know them well enough to dismiss them entirely. But, yes, I don’t fear their curses.”

  Lord Vaina put his hands on his hips. “The next time an abbot comes to see me, I expect he will be better prepared.”

  That afternoon, the Knights of Serica returned to the embassy. Several had injuries, but they were in good spirits, happy to be back in Tokolas after another successful expedition.

  Blue Frostel came over for dinner; he was nearly recovered from the terrible wounds he had received in the battle with the Kitrans within the palace of Kemeklos; he was warmly greeted by everyone. The dining room was crowded, and when Valo Peli showed up briefly, still wearing his official robes as the minister of war, it was almost like the days before the Northern Expedition. Only Kagne was missing, but they drank a toast to him at dinner.

  While they continued drinking after the meal, Olef showed off Basil’s latest sculpture: a buck with a fine set of antlers, standing proudly on a rocky outcrop. Basil was using some of his income to pay a woodworker artisan for lessons. Normally, the master carvers of Serica only taught their craft to their own selected apprentices, but Lord Vaina had made a personal appeal, and that plus Basil’s silver had allowed for this exception to the general rule. Sandun didn’t fully understand why Basil was spending all his time carving figures of animals in wood until Basil had offered the following explanation: