by Unknown
“Remember—don’t wait,” she told her brother as she accepted the vial of Holy Water and mounted the broad staircase. “If Trayn and I don’t come back down these stairs, go to the abbot at Mechon and—”
“—don’t stop for anything. I know, I know. Good luck, Jenna,” he added as he melted into the shadows of the hall.
At the end of the third-floor corridor, Trayn was pacing nervously. “Is the door bolted?” she whispered as she approached.
“If it is, I shall simply batter it down at your command.”
She gave him a sharp look. “Is the door bolted?”
“No.”
“Then”—she produced a small bowl and held out her hand for the jar he was holding, adding blood, then Holy Water to the dead salt. It fizzled encouragingly, showing that something was happening with mystical potency. “Open the door.”
She knew something was wrong the moment she stepped into the dim bedchamber. The bed was empty. And there was a figure coming at her in the dark with dagger drawn. Then Trayn shoved her aside and tackled her attacker.
All that happened in a blink. On second blink, time was back to normal with Trayn calling up to her, “A little help, if you please.” The scuffle was not going well.
Jenna dumped the salty concoction over them both and recited loudly, “Earth-bound spirit, by the water of the Church, be absolved. By the salt of the earth, be absorbed. By the blood of your condemner be released. Arteus of Kithorn, be gone!”
The sounds of fighting subsided into a snuffling and coughing. She lit a lamp on the bedside table and turned to survey the damage. The Commandant lay twitching on the rug, his eyes wide and baffled. Beside him, Trayn was sneezing frantically from salt water up the nose.
“Are you all right, sir?” she asked, stooping down beside Frant.
He blinked a few times, seemed to realize he was lying on the floor, and managed to sit up. “I remember investigating the Cold Wing, finding the staircase down to the dungeons, and then...nothing. What happened?”
“Possession,” she said. “Not common, but possible when there’s a direct blood-link involved. You were possessed by an ancestor of yours whose spirit was trapped in the dungeon by a witch he tortured to death. But he’s gone now, and you are yourself again.”
He gave a snort. “I take it you’re our resident exorcist of the Cold Wing.”
“I am. Jenna by name. And this is my Knight-Guardian Trayn.”
Trayn stopped snuffling just long enough to say, “Sir.”
“And there is a woman currently in the dungeons who needs to be released immediately with restitution for indignities visited upon her by the Knighthood.” She decided to leave it at that. The less said about witchcraft, the better. “And with that, sir, we shall take our leave.”
She gave Trayn a hand up and got him out into the corridor between sneezes. “Thank you. I would have been dead by dagger if you hadn’t been there.”
He gave a shrug. “Thank the witch. She was the one who told me to use my body to protect you in the darkness.”
Oh. That was what he meant.
“But she wasn’t all that good a seer,” he continued after another sneeze. “Absolutely no warning about salt water up the nose.”
The Rolang of Taiyung
by Catherine Soto
Lin Mei’s brother is away, serving in the Emperor’s army, so she’s working solo. That’s not likely to stop her from doing what needs to be done, however. She was always the brain to his brawn. Besides, she has both the cats.
Catherine has been pretty busy this last year. Lots of overtime at work (i.e.: more money, less energy), but got some comp-time from it, which allowed her a rare day of self-indulgence at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco, where she saw the Terracotta Warriors from China. She also has a blog, catherinesoto3.blogspot.com, and is on Goodreads as well. Has not done much on either for a few months (overtime again) but plans to get back to them soon.
I know the feeling.
The crickets had fallen silent. Lin Mei set down her brush and looked up, puzzled. It was a warm summer night and the sound of their chirping had been almost a din, for crickets. The sudden cessation of the sounds had fallen like the drop in conversation at an awkward moment at the dinner table.
In the corner Shadow and Twilight stirred out of their semi-sleep, looking about. Lin Mei sat up straight; her hand reached out for her dagger and thrust it in her sash. Shadow’s tail twitched. His eyes were wary slits. Next to him Twilight sat up, looking about. That decided her. Grasping her sword she rose and went to the sliding door, slowly pushing it open and stepping out onto the veranda.
Outside the night was warm and still. Across the small courtyard a stand of bamboo stirred slowly in a vagrant breeze that did not reach beyond its confines. A rock garden filled the space between it and the veranda. Overhead a full moon lit the area.
Ordinarily such a peaceful night scene would have been pleasing. The caravan had stopped for a few weeks in the shadow of the Loksangha Monastery on the side of the mountains south of the city. The annual Taiyung silk fair had drawn merchants from as far as Kashmir to the west and Dunhuang to the east, and a city of tents had arisen in the open land around the city. The days were filled with raucous bargaining and trade, with good-natured insults and curses enlivening the din, followed by rowdy carousing into the evening. But by late night everyone was in an exhausted torpor.
The Taiyung Guard was more than adequate to secure the lands about the city, and only a nominal guard was needed for the caravan pickets. At night the more valuable goods were stored in safety inside the city walls. Lin Mei was second in command of the guards, reporting to Shin Hu, the guard commander. Aside from a round on horseback she had no duties after sunset. Her quarters were more than adequate, especially compared to what a caravan guard usually enjoyed, and she had spent the prior two nights in rare ease and comfort.
Beside her the two cats slipped out into the shadows cast by the railing, their attention on the bamboo. Shadow’s tail twitched. At that Lin Mei drew in a deep breath and pressed the guard of her sword forward with her thumb, loosening it in the scabbard.
It was a few short steps from the veranda outside her rooms to the one next door. Beside her Shadow twitched his tail and crouched low. She went up the three steps slowly, eyes casting about. So far she had not melded her senses with the cats. With possible danger so imminent she did not want to lose focus or concentration by taking the few moments needed to join their senses to hers. They followed along behind, one to either side.
On the veranda she stopped, eyeing the sliding door. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Scowling, she looked about. The cats had eyed the bamboo suspiciously just a few moments earlier but now their attention was on the door before her. But nothing had moved between the two. So whatever was making them uneasy was inside. She studied the door.
That moment saved her life. Suddenly, someone, or something, slammed the door completely open and leapt out, arms forward, as if to reach for her. With reflexes honed by years on the frontier she dropped to one knee, her sword coming out and slashing to her right side, and into the torso of her attacker.
Ordinarily such a strike should have been fatal, but her arm throbbed with pain as her blade slammed into her attacker. It felt as if she had hit a tree trunk. Only the high quality of the steel kept it from shattering. But the impact threw her to the floor of the veranda. She kept on rolling, her blade tucked in close to her.
When she felt far enough away to feel she could safely stop she leapt to her feet, her sword arm swinging in a wide arc to clear the space about her.
It was unnecessary. She was alone on the hardwood flooring. But inside the building she heard screaming and yelling as men rushed about, lighting lamps and gathering weapons. In moments one was out, eyes casting about. His gaze rested on Lin Mei.
“He went past me,” she shouted, before he might get the idea she was responsible for whatever had happened inside, “in
that direction!” She pointed out toward the sand garden. He looked past and his face contorted in what might have been anger, or horror. Puzzled, Lin Mei looked past him. On the sand were footprints. It took a moment for Lin Mei to notice what might be the cause of his reaction.
The prints were in a pair, as she might have expected. But instead of being those of a walking or running man, they were side by side, as if the intruder had hopped away. Still, she could not think why that should be so alarming.
Other men rushed out, all armed and one carrying a lamp. “Where did he go?” one asked, brandishing a lance. Lin Mei pointed off into the darkness. The lancer rushed off, the rest following. She was alone on the veranda, save for Shadow and Twilight. She sheathed her sword and stepped inside. Women were moving about, hurriedly but with more composure than that exhibited by the men.
“What was that?” she asked a maid carrying some coarse cloth. The girl merely bowed her head and gestured toward the inner hall. Lin Mei strode through the entry. Inside there was a knot of women in silk robes at the far wall. A man lay on the matting. It did not take one with Lin Mei’s experience as a guard to see that he would not last long, even with the expert ministrations of the women about him. A corner of her mind noted the expertise they showed. So they were not new to this. That was interesting.
“What has happened?” she asked. The women all looked up at her. Finally one of them, of some importance judging by the costly robe she wore, spoke. “The Rolang came in and attacked us,” she said calmly, as if discussing a spilled cup of tea. “This man,” she gestured down at the supine form, “was wounded defending us.” It was perhaps doubly tragic that the valiant man chose that moment to let out his last breath in a death rattle that sent a shiver down Lin Mei’s back no matter how often she had heard it before. She took a moment for a quick prayer.
Behind her she heard the door bang against the frame as it was thrown completely open. She turned. It was Dorpak Champa, her host, flanked by two heavy-set guardsmen armed with swords. She saw three more behind him. She bowed quickly as he strode past her to stand over the dead man and the women around him.
“It has come,” he said. “It managed to escape over the west wall.” Lin Mei’s mind raced. He did not seem surprised. Now that she considered it, no one so far had shown any shock or surprise at the night’s grisly events. Her hand tightened on the scabbard of her sword. Behind her she could sense Shadow and Twilight prowling about nervously. Dorpak turned to face her.
“How is it that you are here?” he asked.
“I noticed that the chirping of the crickets had stopped,” she said, carefully considering her words as she spoke. “I stepped outside to investigate.” Dorpak looked at her for a long moment before nodding.
“Please return to your quarters,” he said. “I will speak with you later.” Lin Mei bowed and left, the two cats padding along behind. Back in her rooms, alone but for her feline companions, she pondered the situation. Despite the tragic nature of the night’s events everyone else seemed strangely composed, as if they had been expecting the attack. And now that she thought about it, the presence of so many well-armed and capable men in the compound of a merchant, even one as wealthy as Dorpak Champa, was unusual. She took up her brush and with a few strokes finished the report she had been writing, setting her seal upon it in red before rolling it up.
A soft knock on the veranda floor outside made her look up. “Enter,” she called. It was a maid, with tea. She saw the tray held two cups. Well. She waited until the maid had left before setting her sword behind her, hilt to her right. She did not have long to wait. In moments Dorpak Champa arrived, sliding the door open and entering without ceremony. As he slid it closed behind him she saw two of his guards standing outside. She bowed low in greeting. “Please,” he said, his hand moving in a gesture of dismissal, “you are my honored guest.”
“It is you who honor me, sir,” she replied politely, gesturing to the mat opposite her. “May I offer tea?” He nodded politely and sank to the mat. There was silence as she set out cups with tea leaves and poured hot water from the pot into them. She saw the way he watched her as she did so.
“You know how to serve tea,” he said, lifting his cup for a polite three sips. She kept her face impassive, nodding in acknowledgment. “It is unfortunate that your stay here has been marred by such a tragic event,” he said, setting his cup down.
“The generosity of your hospitality makes any unpleasantness trivial,” she replied, weighing her words carefully. “But it is unfortunate that such a brave man met his end,” she added. He nodded, eyeing her.
“I have heard much about you,” he said, “and your brother, Biao. Wang Liu speaks highly of you.” His eyes shifted sideways to the cats, who sat impassively watching from the far corner.
“My brother is at present serving in the army of the August Throne,” she said. He nodded.
“Yes, the armies of Tifun once more stretch the borders, and the August Throne must send forces to chastise them. I have heard of your brother’s sword, and his speed and skill with it. He will be helpful in the campaign.” He stopped to take another sip. “But I suspect that his knowledge of the land, and its people, will be more useful to the commanding general,” he added. “Both of you have traveled long in those regions, and are familiar with them. And Wang Liu writes that you have often dealt with problems of various sorts, both in this world, and the other one.” She nodded in polite acknowledgement, her face placid while her mind rapidly went over all the implications of his comments. None of them looked good.
“You are most gracious,” she ventured. He smiled and took another sip.
“I must confess I had ulterior motives for inviting you to be my houseguest,” he said. Lin Mei raised a quizzical eyebrow. Dorpak Champa was a wealthy merchant and an associate and trading partner of Wang Liu, her sometime employer in far-off Kendar, on the western fringe of the Empire. Wang Liu had sent a shipment of silk for Dorpak Champa to sell on consignment, a shipment so large and of such quality that Dorpak had been pleased enough to have offered Lin Mei quarters in his compound. Apparently there was more than gratitude behind the offer of hospitality. He looked at her face and smiled, although with a touch of grimness.
“There is disquiet in my household,” he said. “The woman you have met, Pakchen Dgorge, is my first wife’s cousin, and a member of the knightly class. She was recently married to four brothers, Jampha, Palden, Sousom, and Tsering. They are men of the Kalden Clan. They are also of the knightly class.” Lin Mei nodded. She knew of the mountain people’s customs. Such arrangements were not rare.
“Tsering is also a monk, a Geshe of the Loksangha Monastery. He is at present in a cave above the monastery, meditating, and is not to be disturbed.”
“A Geshe?” Lin Mei asked. “I have heard the word, but am not too familiar with the meaning.”
“He is a sorcerer, and Geshe means that he has taken advanced training, and is most adept,” her host replied. She nodded.
“He is allowed to marry?’ she asked. “Even as a monk?” Dorpak nodded.
“The Akung sect allows monks to marry, with the permission of their abbot. For that matter, Jampha and Palden were also monks at the Loksangha Monastery, but were released from their monastic vows when their family arranged the marriage, so that they would be fully able to participate in the affairs of the household without distraction. And that brings us to the hub of the problem,” he said. Lin Mei sat up straight, a small part of her mind noting that the cats were also paying rapt attention, and wondering why. “It appears that Tsering does not seem interested in fulfilling his matrimonial duties,” Dorpak continued in a lower voice. “In fact, he plans to marry a young woman of another knightly family here in Taiyung. His family does not approve, but his reputation as a sorcerer is such that he feels he will be able to support his own household in proper comfort and in a manner appropriate to her station.”
“He is allowed to marry another woman, even if he is al
ready married to Pakchen Dgorge?” Lin Mei asked.
“The customs of the mountains allow that,” Dorpak replied.
“Is there anything the customs of the mountains do not allow?” Lin Mei asked.
“Apparently not,” Dorpak replied, wryly. Lin Mei chuckled.
“Pakchen Dgorge is the woman in the red robes?” she asked. He nodded. “She does not seem unattractive.” Lin Mei noted, “I cannot see why Tsering would not wish to carry out his matrimonial duties, all the more so if he is also allowed to marry another woman. And Pakchen has three other husbands. I imagine she can spare one.”
“The Kalden are prominent in this region,” Dorpak told her. “While this would not qualify as a mortal insult, it will cause upset. Also, Sousom is not yet of age to fulfill the more intimate duties of a husband.”
“But he was still married to Pakchen Dgorge?” she asked.
“The marriage contract represents an alliance between two noble and wealthy families,” Dorpak replied, “and as such his name was on the contract despite his young age.” Lin Mei nodded; that was not unusual.
“And the Rolang?” she asked, bringing the conversation back to the night’s events. Dorpak took a deep breath.
“Do you know what one is?” he asked. She shook her head slowly.
“Powerful magicians are reputed to be able to bring the dead back to life,” he said slowly, “or at least to some semblance of life. Such creatures are under their control, and will do their bidding.” Understanding dawned in her.
“Is Tsering suspected of involvement?” she asked carefully. Dorpak nodded his eyes grim.
“So I hear. It appears he is determined to marry the young woman with whom he is taken,” he said.
“But if the local customs allow him to be married to her, even if he is already married to Pakchen Dgorge, how would that cause problems?” she asked. Dorpak let out a sigh.