by Clark Bolton
“What student?” he asked.
“Ich-Mek,” she was quick to say, though she had been thinking of Bose.
“Ah, you’re professing your love for a boy you do not yet know.”
“I know him!” she retorted.
Pesnu-Jok shook his head. “You will never know him,” he declared.
His words set her back for a moment, and she found herself fighting back tears. If Pesnu-Jok knew what Ich-Mek had done in the selection chamber, he would surely think as highly of him as she did.
“Find yourself…” he told her with contempt. “You were selected, not he. Has not Master Gang told you what becomes of failures in the selection chamber?”
“He wasn’t a failure!” she yelled at him.
Pesnu-Jok nodded his head in apparent sympathy. “My ties with my betrothed ended less tragically, but no less hurtfully, Fu-Sa.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “The Regent has canceled our betrothal?” she demanded to know. When he didn’t immediately respond she yelled out, “You’re a liar!”
He gave her a sad look for several moments before declaring, uncategorically, “He’s dead, apprentice. The sooner you accept the fate of all dragon-students save the one wearing that ring of yours, the sooner you’ll be a master of the arts!”
With that said, he brushed past her, but not before she declared tearfully, “But he was chosen too!”
He slowed to spit “Nonsense!” at her, before storming out.
She still must cling to hope, she told herself as the tears flowed. After all, Ich-Mek was wearing an Owesek-ring when they forced her out of the selection chamber. She tried desperately to convince herself that they couldn’t, nor wouldn’t, simply kill a dragon-mage.
PHEW!
The gust spell sent a dozen scrolls flying, and made her feel better if only for an instance.
Storming back into the collection chamber she confronted a now-sitting Chancellor, who ignored her approach. “He took the Oath! I was there!” she hissed at his back. He simply shook his head slightly in denial of what she was saying. “The Emperor has forbidden anyone to kill a dragon-mage!” she said loudly.
Yi-La wasn’t exactly sure of this fact, but it seemed likely some past emperor would have issued such an edict. And now the more Pesnu-Jok ignored what she was saying, the more she was sure Ich-Mek was alive in Key-Tar-Om.
“I will tell the Emperor!” she threatened.
Pesnu-Jok calmly set aside the scroll he had been handling, then balled his hands into fists in an apparent attempt to calm himself. “Apprentice…” he said scornfully, “know that there are five Owesek-rings known to exist. That makes your claim…”
She interrupted before he could finish, saying forcefully, “It was Master Obek’s ring!”
Pesnu-Jok froze for a moment, and seemed at a loss for words. “What did you say?” he asked in a steady tone.
“Master Obek,” she repeated as she felt her heart in her throat. “Master Huehan put his ring on Ich-Mek’s finger. He said the Oath!”
Pesnu-Jok slowly rose, then turned his attention to the six or so other Seechen in the large chamber. “Go to my chambers immediately,” he told them. “Speak to no one until I arrive.”
Yi-La watched the chastened Seechen file quietly out, including Narween. It was now beginning to dawn on her how much trouble she was causing them, and herself.
“Who else knows of this?” Pesnu-Jok asked as he came to stand over her.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“The Regent?” Pesnu-Jok pressed.
She shook her head. “I don’t know…I was taken out quickly after Ich-Mek put the ring on my finger…”
“Ich-Mek?” he asked incredulously. “Ich-Mek gave you the dragon-ring?”
She nodded her head shamefully now. “He didn’t know any better,” she said in Ich-Mek’s defense. “Master Huehan…he died, I think…and the ring fell to the floor…”
__________________________
Yi-La decided not to tell her master about her heated conversation with Chancellor Pesnu-Jok. As the days passed, she was reminded sternly by Pesnu-Jok, on several occasions, that she best remain close to her master. She took his advice, more out of fear than out of respect for him. The Chancellor’s effect on Narween was also dramatic, and the girl now absolutely refused to acknowledge overhearing any part of the conversation that day in the collection chamber.
Eventually Yi-La worked up the nerve to visit the collection chamber again, despite the glares she had to endure now from the Seechen there, including Pesnu-Jok, who was also present. He was biding his time, she knew, but had no idea what this might entail. Letters took as long as two moons to move back and forth between the capital and Key-Tar-Om, so she figured she still had time before things came to a head again.
“Will you tell me if he is still alive?” Yi-La said almost casually to Pesnu-Jok as he sat at his table. She made sure no one was near enough to hear her question, or his reply.
Pesnu-Jok spoke to her slowly. “If he is…duty requires the Emperor be informed.”
She immediately doubted he was serious. “Wouldn’t he know already?” she countered.
He looked up to give her a quaint smile, saying, “The Regent may be waiting for the opportune moment.”
“What if it never comes?”
“Hmm!” Pesnu-Jok remarked sharply. “Then should His Imperial Majesty become aware…from some other source…then officials of the highest rank…and dragon-mages alike…will pay the highest price.”
Yi-La mused over the response for a few moments before daring to ask, “Why wouldn’t the knowledge be shared?”
Pesnu-Jok shook his head to indicate he wasn’t going to tell her, before saying, “You are a talented apprentice, Fu-Sa. But court politics requires more than a stint at a school for mages to comprehend. Its intrigue runs deeper then you could know, and is tangled with thousand-year-old threads.”
She shook her head in disappointment at not getting any clear answers, and began to walk away before he asked her to stop, then added, without meeting her gaze, “Are there possibly more rings?”
She smiled inwardly before saying, “Tell me about Ich-Mek first.”
Yi-La felt like she and Pesnu-Jok were at a stalemate; either that or he had no information about Ich-Mek with which to bargain. In any case the atmosphere within the mage-quarter seemed like it was charged with arcane-energy, and she had the audacity to think she was part of the cause. That was until the summons came.
“Fu-Sa!” Narween called out urgently to Yi-La, who was in one of the alchemy chambers. “You must come to the hall! It is important.”
With regret, Yi-La put aside the instruments she had been working with for most of the day, and followed a fleeing Narween who led her to the main Chey building. There Yi-La was greeted by four rather senior-looking yellow-robed eunuchs who wasted no time in placing a scroll in her hands with the seal of the Imperial-Chancellor on it.
They waited as she read the summons silently to herself, apparently expecting a reply to take back with them. However, Pesnu-Jok showed up, and after some stern arguments convinced the eunuchs to leave without a reply, informing them that it would be forthcoming in due time.
“Must I go?” she asked the Mage-Chancellor after giving him a few moments to read the summons himself.
His face betrayed his anger, and he practically shoved the scroll back into her hands. “Master Gang has forbidden it!” he snapped as he stormed out of the hall.
Getting a little angry herself, she hurried after him and wasn’t surprised to find he was heading for her master’s residence. Walking even faster, she passed him so as to arrive at the Master Gang’s study door before him. She opened it with a cantrip just as Pesnu-Jok arrived.
“Master, I have been summoned,” Yi-La quickly said before Pesnu-Jok had the chance. The unmoving mage seemed to be resting on his usual curved bench. “Master,” she said again as she started rearranging the many cushi
ons around him in hopes of gently waking him.
Master Sey-Laht as well was known to enter such trance-like states as this, which was making Yi-La feel guilty about troubling her master. It was not uncommon for him to be like this for most of a day, and the Seechen had whispered it was done as a rejuvenation technique.
Pesnu-Jok eventually lost patience with her attempts to wake her master, and so left, saying sarcastically, “It is of no concern, Fu-Sa. We have all of four days to get a reply from our master.”
Yi-La took the time to secure the doors to the study before angrily confronting the Chancellor before he could get out of the building. “What if he doesn’t let me go?”
Pesnu-Jok turned and replied quickly, “Be more concerned about what happens if he does!”
The comment caught her off guard. “What do you mean?” she demanded to know as she recalled Tu-Dak-Po’s piercing eyes. Master Gang had warned her to be prepared to shield her mind every time she encountered the Imperial-Chancellor.
“I mean he smells what you are withholding. He is, after all, a dracomon.”
The reminder sent a chill up her spine. Endless court gossip referred to times when one of the court dracomons had lost their temper. It made her think of the battle scars Tu-Dak-Po had displayed proudly in their last meeting. She wondered if dragon-mages like her master might be responsible for them, and found it hard to believe Master Gang could accomplish such.
“You haven’t told him?” she said in a questioning tone.
“No…and neither should you!”
She found herself a little frightened now, rather than angry. “What if he asks?”
Pesnu-Jok snorted and then smiled widely. “Then he already knows.”
Looking back toward Master Gang’s study now, she very much wanted to be at his side again. He was the only sanctuary she knew, but his distance from court matters made her worry he wouldn’t care or know enough to protect her.
“He’s looking for a ring?” she whispered with great concern. “But he can’t wear them.”
“Really, my dear apprentice…where do you think all those scars of his originate…and why he prefers to reside in the Forbidden-Gardens?” Pesnu-Jok asked with a sneer.
“The masters?” she ventured with desperate hope.
“Noo!” Pesnu-Jok said dismissively. “Scarm!”
Chapter 22
The first structure Ich-Mek had ever seen outside of Key-Tar-Om, other than as a child, sadly turned out to be abandoned. He rushed up the impossibly steep steps to the top of the shrine, then waved to As-Cheen far below. It was a single room perched on a ledge, with a roof of stone tiles. Large empty windows gave a commanding view of the countryside in both directions.
“What is it?” As-Cheen called up.
“Forgotten shrine, I think,” he replied, and then could see Tass nodding his head in agreement.
They had just crossed into the province of Wa, Tass had informed them. Looking at the Owesek-runes he had written all over his arms in ink, Ich-Mek wondered if the proper time to wash them off was now. Looking out the window again he could see traces of the runes on the faces of As-Cheen and Tass. They apparently had worked, as so far no dragon had come.
Tass came up to join him, and found Ich-Mek scrubbing his hands and face. Ich-Mek then tried to coax As-Cheen up, but she refused.
“Protected from spirits,” Tass suggested in a near whisper.
Ich-Mek tried hard to get angry at his friend, but found himself in too good a mood. “You want help getting this off?” he asked in order to change the subject.
“What if the dragon comes?”
“It won’t help, Tass. It only prevents us from being found through magic.”
“You think mountains won’t lie for it,” Tass said with a stare.
Ich-Mek was about to cast another cleaning cantrip, but stopped and lowered his hands. “You told me that once, Tass. We are in Wa province now…tell me if you still think it’s true!”
Tass nodded his head yes, and then let Ich-Mek clean the ink from his arms and face. He thought again of the voice that had screamed inside his head when had used the dream spell. It wasn’t Venfs, he was sure, as that had come later. The voice had claimed to be protecting Teng-Ju province, which they had just left, by Tass’s reckoning. It had been a dragon, he had long since concluded.
Ich-Mek had had many days to ponder the meaning of what the dragon had shouted. It was convoluted thinking, he knew, but he figured Regent Ober-Toss had appealed to the governor of Teng-Ju, and that was who had sent the dragon to the Cold-Mountain.
“Wa has dragons,” Tass reminded him as Ich-Mek wiped away the ink.
Ich-Mek paused to give Tass a weak smile before saying, “I know, Tass, but I can’t think about that right now.”
“We must not bring one to my village.”
“You want me to stay away?”
“No! Come without the dragon.”
“What about the spirit?”
“She will not wish to come.”
Ich-Mek looked to the empty doorway and wondered at the truth of that statement. As-Cheen seemed weary of men, and not entering this shrine made it all the more apparent.
“She has no choice,” Ich-Mek replied as he stood and gathered up his belongings.
He called down to her, but from the window couldn’t see where she was. Panic almost gripped him before she walked out of the shadows.
“We will move on!” he shouted down, then turned to Tass. “Do not give the spirit an excuse to leave,” he warned him with a glare.
“Tass says they will be friendly,” Ich-Mek told her in a pleading voice.
She had stopped partway down the hill leading to a collection of huts. Smoke billowed from several chimneys, and they could see livestock about. Tass was now halfway there, but As-Cheen was having second thoughts.
“Why do they have animals tied like that?” she demanded to know.
“That’s so they won’t wander away,” he told her with the best reassuring smile he could muster.
“You’re lying. Men eat wild things.”
“Yes…but you’re not one of those.”
“It stinks.”
“Ah…yes, but we can deal with that. Please come,” he begged.
“The villages of men are places of evil for my people.”
He looked down the hill to see Tass speaking with a man who had emerged from one of the huts. The man looked remarkably like Tass, and even waved to them like Tass.
“Keep the scarf covering your head…they won’t know you’re an elf.”
“Why won’t they know?” she said, in an apparent attempt to stall.
“Because they are weak!” he said impatiently.
“You go!”
“No! I’m not leaving you…ever!”
She pouted at him, then reluctantly walked down and let him take her hand. When they got near the door that Tass had entered, she pulled her hand away, which kind of annoyed him. He looked at the ridiculous trousers they had put on her, and wished again to see her bare legs.
They were greeted warmly by the occupants of the hut, who gladly invited them to share a meal. Sitting on the floor now was Tass, who motioned for them to sit beside him. A minute later they were served mutton soup, and handed small baskets of steaming rice.
As-Cheen meekly refused any of the food without saying a word. This left it to Ich-Mek to explain that his sister wasn’t feeling so well. The three women and two men of the hut accepted this without question, and soon Tass was speaking his own native language with them.
“I’m confused,” Ich-Mek said softly to As-Cheen after he had eaten his fill. “Sometimes I hear them speaking elven.”
As-Cheen shook her head. “Their lips do not say it.”
Ich-Mek knew it was a side-effect of the language spell he was using, which allowed him to understand and talk any language spoken around him. Still, it was mind-boggling to hear the switch in languages and comprehend it all at the same time.
“Well, they are not bad people anyway, yes?”
“They eat animals,” she replied softly.
He shook his head, and then shoved a basket of rice at her. When she took it, and tentatively took a taste of it, he almost cheered.
“So what’s been taking place in Wa since you left, Tass?” Ich-Mek asked with a grin.
“Ohhh, many things!” Tass replied with an equal-sized grin.
__________________________
Shrindala was more of a town than a village, Ich-Mek thought as they looked down the mountain at Tass’s home. They were off the main road now, as Tass had been warned of strangers by several of the distant relatives they had visited in prior villages. Ich-Mek didn’t know what to think of these rumors, so had left it up to Tass to decided how best to handle things.
All three of them were anxious to get a look at the fabled temple of Shrindala, which Tass indicated was higher up the mountain. The road that led through the village was the only way in or out of the gorge the temple was built in, Tass explained. No one would be stopped by the villagers themselves, but would be seen.
“Free lodging and food – right, Tass?” Ich-Mek asked as he sat and watched Tass eye the village carefully – as he had done for the past few minutes.
“Umm,” Tass grunted in acknowledgment.
They had arrived in Wa province without a copper to their name, and still had none. He did suspect, though, that Tass had been given some coins by at least one of his uncles. Besides relatives, some kind of strange delayed barter system allowed Tass to continue to acquire what little they needed. As-Cheen certainly looked better in the clothes they had bartered for.
“About this Owesek seal, Tass,” Ich-Mek asked. “You’re expecting me to do what exactly?”
They had gone over this many times in the last few days, but Ich-Mek still felt he didn’t understand for sure what Tass expected of him. Opening the temple sounded clear enough but had to be difficult, Ich-Mek figured; why else was a dragon-mage needed to do it? Beyond that point, Tass was vague, and apparently didn’t know much of what was to happen after the doors were opened.