The Emperor's Mage

by Clark Bolton

  “Be careful of the big cat,” she warned.

  “No big cat, I think,” he told her dismissively. Then he yelled out to Puc, “I need a pole…Puc!”

  The pole was delivered at the same time as the librarian, a monk named Neeq. At first Ich-Mek was too embarrassed to use the pole in front of the monk, but after it became apparent Neeq was settling in for a while, he felt driven to. Tass was becoming irritable again at his lack of progress, but mostly at things like poles that Tass considered nothing less than antics.

  “Puc…” Ich-Mek called out, “watch from that hole there…while I try to knock one down.”

  Ich-Mek inserted the long pole after making sure there were no cats in the way. It looked to be a good five steps from him to the scrolls, which he could now just reach with the pole. The pole blocked much of the hole, so he kept asking a nervous Puc if he was close.

  His first attempt looked to possibly be damaging some scrolls, so he stopped to think for a few minutes. Puc stood idly by as Neeq sat silently cross-legged a little further away. As-Cheen came to perch on the bench like a bird.

  “See!” As-Cheen remarked when the abandoned pole moved a little.

  Looking at the pole, which was mostly in the hole, Ich-Mek saw it quiver a few times. “The cats are playing with it,” he told her.

  Trying again, he managed to make a scroll fall from the pigeonhole it was in. But then the pole swung sharply in his hands, striking him hard in the ribs.

  “Ouch!” he yelled as he let go.

  He looked up apologetically to As-Cheen when he realized no small cat could have done that. Cautiously he withdrew the pole, then ventured to look in.

  “I don’t see anything,” he said to her as he rubbed his ribs. “How big was it?”

  She looked down at him from her perch with a frown, then reached up to widen her eyes fully with her fingers. “THIS BIG!” she yelled at him.

  That got him laughing so hard he had to lay down and clutch his sore ribs. She found this hilarious, and soon the both of them found an angry Tass standing over them. Ich-Mek felt lucky a serene-looking Neeq wasn’t far away, else he was sure Tass would have berated him endlessly, perhaps even kicked him.

  When Tass reluctantly backed off, Ich-Mek decided to talk with the librarian for a while. “Do the Owesek have other temples like this, Master Neeq?”

  The monk shook his head. “No, Fu-Si. Of the thousands of temples in Ibu-Jek I know only of this one being visited by dragon-mages.”

  The answer bothered Ich-Mek. What was special about Shrindala, he wondered, that would set it apart? It was stunningly beautiful, and ancient, but his understanding of Ibu-Jek hinted that there was likely a dozen more as striking as this one. This he confirmed with Neeq.

  “Shrindala is among the oldest, it is believed,” Neeq informed him, “but each of the nine provinces has a jewel like it, though I have visited few.”

  Ich-Mek got the impression Tass wasn’t liking the comparison of Shrindala to other temples. Ignoring Tass, he asked the monk, “Does the temple have any texts on the Owesek?”

  “No, Fu-Si, not outside the inner sanctum.”

  “There are texts within?” he asked anxiously.

  “I believe it possible, Fu-Si. Four centuries make even us here at Shrindala forgetful.”

  “You are sure no one alive has been in there?”

  “This may not be so,” Neeq replied as he turned to gesture across the canyon. “Stone-monks live for centuries, and so it is possible one of the holy ones has seen the inner sanctum.”

  Ich-Mek stared at the cave Neeq had pointed out, and tried to comprehend what Neeq had meant by stone-monks. “Can you talk with them?”

  “They rarely come out, Fu-Si. Their order is…cryptic in speech.”

  A few questions and answers later, Ich-Mek had some idea of who these monks were. The order was a secret one, and normally entered only by older Shrindala monks. Once in the cave the monks rarely came out, and no food was ever brought to them. At times they would be found wandering the canyon, and would speak in what Neeq referred to as “tongues”.

  “How old are some of them?” Ich-Mek asked respectfully.

  “No one knows, Fu-Si. By their speech and the rags that they wear, I assume centuries.”

  “Would they talk with me?” he dared to ask.

  “No!” Tass objected. “What is in that cave is sacred, Ich-Mek.”

  Ich-Mek looked to Neeq with a questioning expression on his face. “I would try if I could.”

  Neeq bowed. “No one will stand in your way, Fu-Si. The cave is open to all.”

  Ich-Mek found Neeq true to his word. With Tass and As-Cheen trailing him, he found no obstacles preventing him from walking into the cave. In fact, it looked like any visiting pilgrim could do so, though the cave was a bit isolated from where the lamas resided.

  “You should not,” As-Cheen whispered after refusing to walk up with him to the mouth of the cave.

  “It’s not dangerous,” he replied softly, though it did look a little daunting, he thought.

  Tass also refused to follow him in, but didn’t seem concerned for him physically. The cave mouth was wide, and in a way reminded him of the cave where Tang resided. This one, however, greeted visitors with a floor of scattered bones.

  He found it unbelievable at first that these were the bones of monks, but decided they could be nothing else. In one part of the cave heaps of bones looked to have been shoveled out of a passageway like so much rubble. It was the only passageway he saw, so he made for it, while cautiously stepping over bone after bone.

  A monk sat cross-legged just within the passageway. Ich-Mek bowed to the man, who looked to be meditating with his hands pressed together near his face. The monk didn’t reply or stir at all, so he carefully stepped past him. Looking back, he wondered if the monk was even alive.

  He was surprised there was light inside the passageway and the small chambers it led to. Sunlight, he could now see, was the source, streaming in from shafts that had been cut into the ceiling at places. Bodies, or the remains of them, lay on shelves dug into the walls, and some looked almost alive.

  It was deathly silent, and as he crept from chamber to chamber he found not a single moving monk. He was beginning to think that the monks of Shrindala had been mistaken about the stone-monks; they weren’t alive at all.

  Deciding he wanted to spend as little time in here as possible, he cast a location spell. Concentrating on finding a person that was over four-hundred years old, he was almost disappointed when a doorway exhibited the telltale glow of a successful location.

  “Can you talk, master?” he asked the prone monk his spell had led him to.

  The man’s eyes were so sunken that Ich-Mek thought for sure it must be just his skeleton. He got no reply, and was about to back his way out of the cave when Neeq appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

  “Pardon, Fu-Si,” Neeq said softly as he stepped up and lifted a steaming cup of what Ich-Mek guessed was tea to the lips of the stone-monk.

  Ich-Mek wasn’t sure whether the monk drank or not, but the man did close his eyes for a moment. A shiver ran up Ich-Mek’s spine when the monk began to move, almost imperceptibly. Neeq and Ich-Mek then backed away and watched as the skeletal man slowly rose.

  “He may follow,” Neeq whispered to him. As they slowly walked, he gestured toward the tea. “Jum-tea is made from the plant we find them seeking,” he explained. “Stone-monks come to the temple garden most often.”

  Tass bowed many times as the aged monk emerged with Ich-Mek from the cave. As-Cheen kept her distance and looked unwilling to look at the stone-monk. Neeq then led the slow procession across the canyon to the great door of the inner sanctum.

  “Have you been inside?” Neeq asked the stone-monk as he let him sip from the teacup.

  The stone-monk began to whisper a few syllables between sips, but Neeq seemed unable to understand. Emptying the cup after the stone-monk refused to drink any more, Neeq apolog
ized for not being able to get any information.

  “The tongue they speak is not for the living, I fear,” Neeq acknowledged. “It is always this way, Fu-Si.”

  Ich-Mek approached closely, then held up his Owesek-ring to the stone-monk’s face to see if the monk might react somehow. “I am a dragon-mage,” he announced.

  “Dragons,” the monk whispered, then went quiet.

  Neeq apologized again. “Sorry, Fu-Si. No one has been found able to determine the language they speak.”

  “He said dragons,” Ich-Mek insisted.

  Neeq tilted his head quizzically. “Perhaps, Fu-Si.”

  “Have you seen the doors open?” Ich-Mek asked the stone-monk as he pointed to the nearby door. “With this ring…has someone opened it before?”

  “Owesek,” the monk murmured.

  Ich-Mek could tell by Neeq’s face that he had not understood this word either. “I understand the language, Neeq. And so, I think, will you.”

  With that said, Ich-Mek cast a language spell upon Neeq. He had been casting them several times a day on As-Cheen so both he and Tass could converse with her. The ecstasy of the cast was welcome, and gave him the nerve to wink at a distant Tass.

  “Have you been in the inner sanctum, master?” Ich-Mek asked the stone-monk.

  “Yes…when the dragon came.”

  The speech was halting and difficult to hear, but it was enough to make Neeq step back in astonishment. Recovering quickly, Neeq stepped up and began questioning the stone-monk for more information.

  Chapter 25 – Yi-La

  Yi-La was with Master Gang when word came of Chancellor Pesnu-Jok’s return. She noted sadly that her master hardly batted an eyelid at the news. She tried to convince herself that he just didn’t understand the risk the Chancellor had taken on their behalf; else he would have acted, she hoped.

  All day she had felt the strain of guilt on her conscience at not telling her master what she had sworn to do with Narween. Fortunately, Master Gang rarely seemed to notice Narween, and, although she was in this very Chey at the moment, Yi-La had hopes he wouldn’t one day suddenly ask what had become of her. It was one of the few advantages to having a rather old and frail master that she knew of. She and Narween still had no clear plan when Narween should truely sequester herself, perhaps forever.

  The two had discussed things exhaustively in Yi-La’s chamber, until Master Gang had summoned her. Now the Chancellor had returned, which meant she knew not what. She was still bound by her oath to him, but hoped to be released from it, though why she wanted this for herself she couldn’t say.

  Yi-La found Pesnu-Jok in his chambers being attended to by a slew of inner-city physicians. He was on his bed with his robes partially pulled up, and she could see great bruises running down the length of most of the left side of his body. For the second time she beheld him with his hood and veil removed. Feeling he would forgive her presence, she made herself known to him.

  “I’m pleased you’ve returned, Lord Chancellor,” she said sincerely with a low bow.

  He opened his eyes for the first time since she had entered the room, then motioned for the physicians to leave, with the effort causing him to wince in pain. She guessed some of his ribs were broken, and maybe his left leg; it brought tears to her eyes to see someone in such pain.

  He closed his eyes again, and was silent. Though worried, she felt compelled to ask, “Did you take the potion, my lord?”

  His eyes popped open to give her a stern stare before he said, “I have taken a potion for the pain, yes!”

  The pupils of his eyes were huge, she noticed as she looked around nervously to see if there was someone near that he might be concerned was eavesdropping. “I’ve done what you’ve asked,” she said quietly.

  He looked at her again before closing his eyes. “My duties were performed as well. As you can see, mine had direct consequences.”

  She got the distinct impression he was letting her know this was somehow her fault. The audacity of it gave her resolve enough to ask, “Please tell me where Ich-Mek is, my lord.”

  “He was where we assumed…now he isn’t,” he stated definitively. “The dracomon know something is searched for.” Pesnu-Jok then attempted to reposition himself before giving up due to the pain, and again shut his eyes tightly. “Certainly the Regent has made enough noise to alert the skut!” He practically spat out the last part.

  Yi-La noticed now a small bottle that was marked to contain juice of the poppy, and guessed the physicians had given him some for the pain. He was talking more than she had expected, and she knew from her alchemy studies that poppy juice could have this effect.

  “Does anyone know where Ich-Mek is?” she pressed as gently as she could think to do.

  “Why an audience now?” Pesnu-Jok seemed to be asking himself, rather than responding to her. “His Imperial self…smelled the potion, dragon-mage. You should have known…but there was a bit of pity, and he let me swallow it.” Pesnu-Jok had his eyes open again and was staring at her accusingly. “They don’t know he is like you…but they desire him. My regency will suffer from your kind...AND HIS…I’m sure!”

  She still felt sorry for him despite his hateful rantings, and now thought perhaps this was the time to get other information out of him. But she had to remain silent as she could think of no other subject to ask about as the physicians began crowding back in.

  “Do you know where he is?” she asked, this time in a whisper.

  “He’s with his mother,” Pesnu-Jok told her spitefully as he painfully reached out to push her away.

  She stood outside his chamber for a long time in hopes of getting another chance to question him, but it never came. Eventually she was tracked down by the Seechen and told her master urgently required her presence.

  __________________________

  Yi-La hadn’t found her master in his residence, and was shocked when told she was to seek him out with Master Sey-Laht. She had walked quickly to the other master’s residence, and had honestly hoped to be turned away by the Seechen there. Instead, they hurried her inside, and left her to knock on his study door alone.

  Now she was watching a fantastical sight. The two masters stood before silk tightly stretched over a frame to make a screen, and within it was the moving figure of another man. They were conversing as if this man was standing in the chamber with them. It took her a short time to conclude that this was the infamous Master Dtu-Ru.

  Eventually Master Gang called her to his side and introduced her formally to the third, and final, dragon-mage of Ibu-Jek. Dtu-Ru gave her a very chilling smile as she held up her dragon-ring at his request.

  “A girl-child, so young and untrained,” Dtu-Ru said, seemingly to himself, after sizing her up. “Are you pining for this Ich-Mek?”

  She had suspected they were discussing Ich-Mek, but had been holding out hope they hadn’t been. “I don’t know, master,” she replied with eyes downcast.

  “Do you sense him? Are you bound to him?”

  She was completely confused now, and looked fearfully at her master for help, but only got an apologetic look followed by a nod directing her to answer. “No, master,” she admitted.

  “You expect—” Master Sey-Laht began to say in her defense before being cut off.

  “Of what use is she?” Dtu-Ru demanded to know loudly. “She clearly doesn’t feel love for the boy! And without it your course of action fails.”

  Yi-La looked around to try and figure out what this action might entail, but saw nothing offering up a clue. Guessing now that it was a spell with perhaps a part of her as a component, she wondered how far she could possibly get if she fled the chamber. Being the cause of Ich-Mek’s capture was not what she wanted at all, though in truth she suspected it might be best for him.

  “I want to help find him, master,” she pleaded.

  Dtu-Ru’s visage wavered for a moment as he looked down his nose at her to ask contemptuously, “Do you? Then are you the fifth or the six ring, gir
l-apprentice? Best know, or the dracomons will decide who gets eaten.”

  Yi-La felt faint and very frightened now, not only of this master but of her or Ich-Mek being consumed by dragons. For a moment she relived the terror she had felt when the Imperial-Chancellor had flown over the mage-quarter in dragon form.

  “Go!” snapped Dtu-Ru at the trembling girl. “I need not settle for you.”

  His scorn seemed to slap her physically as well as emotionally, and she stumbled back from the screen and fell hard to the floor. Stunned, she couldn’t think of what to say to a troubled-looking Master Gang, who escorted her slowly out of view of Dtu-Ru.

  “You must cooperate fully in this manner with Dtu-Ru,” Master Gang informed Yi-La after they had returned to his residence. “But we mustn’t let you be lured to Yuu province.”

  “Yes, master. But I thought Master Dtu-Ru doesn’t want a girl.”

  “He doesn’t get to decide boy or girl,” Master Gang assured her. “That decision comes from His Imperial Majesty, and though Master Dtu-Ru is persuasive, our source-of-golden-light will not trust him with you. Nor, I think, Ich-Mek, should it somehow come to that point.”

  “Then I’m not the Emperor’s mage?” she asked as her heart began to race again.

  She still hadn’t recovered from events in Master Sey-Laht’s study, and now it seemed she may never get the chance to. All her life she had wanted nothing but to serve as a mage to the Emperor. It was her purpose, she had been sure of it.

  “You are the Emperor’s new mage, Yi-La. You’ll see that when he calls you to court,” Master Gang told her as he began pulling out scrolls and lenses to help him read them. “Ich-Mek isn’t known to him yet, and we must spare no effort to see that he never is.”

  She pondered the meaning of this last statement for a moment, before asking hesitantly, “Will he be given to the dracomons if Master Dtu-Ru finds him?”