by Clark Bolton
“Learned from a scroll,” she said as she stood near the bow.
He laughed out loud for a moment before letting out an “Ahhh!” as the barge shifted and swayed violently for a few moments.
“Quick, find the scroll!” she teased as she let the rocking of the barge pass under her without apparent effect.
The fact that the monks had informed him this barge would be used only once in its short life was now working to further undermine his decision to go by river. It would be disassembled and sold as scrap, and looking down now between the deck-boards, he saw nothing but scrap. Eventually, however, the current slowed again, and so the monks went back to walking the barge along. He went back to looking unconcerned.
“It will get smoother, Ich,” a grinning Nugh told him as he walked by.
“And slower!” called out Xep.
Ich-Mek nodded his head politely before turning to watch Qing-Dut for a time. The barge-master was standing on a rickety bamboo platform, constantly swinging a massive tiller-pole back and forth. Ich-Mek couldn’t see how this was so necessary.
“Why does Qing do that?” Ich-Mek asked Nugh as he passed again.
“No speed, no control,” the monk informed him.
The comment made him wonder now about motions of boats on water. He had seen illustrations of ships with glowing runes on them moving across the water. Wondering now at the rune-sets necessary, he began to form a plan that would speed up their progress.
“Are there any spare planks?” he asked no one in particular. “About this long,” he added as he spread his arms wide.
The days began to roll by and Ich-Mek would occasionally pass the time by working on his boat-runes, as he called them. At times when they stopped briefly, he would drop the plank, decorated by him with runes, into the water to watch it thrash around as if alive. He hadn’t figured out how to deactivate it yet though, or how best to introduce it to a very practical-looking barge-master.
Privacy was the essence of his experiments, and this was becoming harder to achieve. The river widened and slowed while the number of other barges and villages swelled. He couldn’t think of who was going to eat the many vegetables he saw being transported, including those on this barge. This quandary came to a head when they floated into the first town he had seen since age seven.
The village of Shrindala was tiny compared to this, as seemed Key-Tar-Om. There was what looked like small palaces along the banks, but it was the number of chimneys and the haze of smoke that was most notable. As-Cheen clearly thought this town out of place, and told him as much.
“This is Am City?” Ich-Mek asked the monks.
They laughed before Buo explained this was the town of Pen-Op, much smaller than Am City. Ich-Mek looked around questioningly, before nodding his head. Clearly he was not as worldly as he had come to think. He knew mountains though, he assured himself, and magecraft.
For the first time, they came into contact with other barges, which seemed to put the monks on edge. More than once, Nugh pushed away a friendly-looking approach with his long pole as if worried it was the opposite. Smiling men, and even sometimes families, seemed to take no offense when this was done.
“They are not as skilled,” As-Cheen commented after one of these events. “They should watch Qing.”
“No, lady,” Xep interjected. “They look for the weak.”
“Weak?” Ich-Mek asked in confusion. “In what way?”
Qing then called out from the tiller as he gestured to Ich-Mek, “He tempts them.” The man then gave an apologetic smile to him afterwards.
“He thinks you a gentleman,” Buo explained.
Ich-Mek looked around at the others for an explanation, before asking, “Why does this matter?”
“Gentlemen have gold,” Buo replied without emotion.
Ich-Mek couldn’t accept he stood out, saying, “I’m not dressed any different, so how could anyone tell?”
Qing let out a long shrill laugh that soon became contagious. As-Cheen then began imitating his stance, or so Ich-Mek assumed, which brought Nugh into the act. With hands behind their backs, they would bend over in an exaggerated manner to inspect seemly invisible objects.
“Boat-gentleman,” As-Cheen informed him as she sat back down.
He shook his head at their shameless insults. “Yeah, well when you need magic, let this gentleman know.” Ich-Mek glanced quickly at Qing after saying this to see if the barge-master had caught the slip of his tongue, but couldn’t tell.
They were past Pen-Op before nightfall, and soon glowing lanterns appeared along stretches of the river. Both Buo and Qing expressed a desire to keep going until darkness was fully upon them. All towns had their pirates, Buo explained.
“The clouds are angry,” As-Cheen informed the whole barge as they began searching for a berth, or at least a still place in which to anchor.
Ich-Mek took this to mean rain was coming, which didn’t concern him too much as the monks had made a comfortable tent for him amongst vegetable crates. It was a luxury that came with being a dragon-man, he told himself as he prepared to settle into it.
“Gentlemen should not sleep now,” As-Cheen said loud enough to make him pause.
“She sees before we do!” Xep announced in awe as he too looked in the same direction as As-Cheen.
A silence took over the barge as all eyes looked to the northwest, the very direction they had come from. “Shu-Whet?” Ich-Mek asked in disbelief as he felt his pocket for his spell-book.
“Noooo,” As-Cheen replied as she stared at the horizon. “Big!”
A moment later Buo barked a word that Ich-Mek had not heard before.
“Hont!”
Whatever it meant, it set all the monks into motion. Without hesitation they forced him down into the tent, and began piling blankets on him. Even more confusing than their obvious attempt to hide him was Nugh’s rush to light incense. After getting one stick to burn, he would hand it off and light another, repeating this over and over.
Ich-Mek found himself surrounded by pungent burning incense as he peeked out from under the tent as best he could. They urged him to stay down several times before abandoning him completely.
“What is happening?” Ich-Mek demanded to know as a great feeling of dread came over him; it felt familiar somehow.
The monks had extinguished the barge’s two lanterns now, and were motioning for everyone to get down and be quiet. “What’s a Hont?” he hissed out of the tent, though he couldn’t tell now if anyone was near.
“Dragon!” came a whispered reply.
The word confirmed the dread he was feeling. He felt out of breath now as he looked around for some means of escape. The incense was odd, he thought, and as he felt for his spell-book he tried to think of what possible help it could be. In a panic, he crawled out onto the deck on his hands and knees.
He was facing the back of the barge now, and saw something akin to a wave of darkness sweep the river. Barges with lanterns lit which were further back toward town seemed to go dark under this tide, one after another. Screams came with this darkness, and sounded like a distant wail that kept getting louder and louder.
Monks grabbed him, and he fought them as they tried to drag him back to the front of the barge. “Nooo!” he screamed uncontrollably.
When they got him to the far end all he could see was the dark cloud coming for him. At this moment the monks switched direction and rushed toward it like they had gone mad. He was sure they were mad, but couldn’t break their grips, no matter how hard he tried.
“As-Cheen!” he yelled when he saw her silhouetted against the darkness.
Suddenly he was being flung to the side and off the barge into the river. The cold water was like coming to an abrupt stop when rolling down a hill. He couldn’t swim, so flailed for something to grab onto. That something was Xep and Nugh, who began pulling him relentlessly away from the barge.
WOOOFFFF!
The whole sky lit up like it was day, and the bar
ge seemed to burst instantly into flame. The light then died, except for that coming from the burning barge. He went limp in their arms as they swam for the river bank. Fearing for As-Cheen now, he began searching for her. All he saw was a lone figure running along the length of the barge before diving into the river.
Chapter 32 – Yi-La
Her reunion with her master was bittersweet. He was fine and rested, unconcerned with her whereabouts, and completely uninterested in master Lu-Pok, the dracomon.
“Let Sey-Laht deal with him, Yi-La,” Master Gang said dismissively. “He has a reputation with their kind, so stay out of the way,” he recommended.
“Well what should I…tell Chancellor Pesnu-Jok?” she stammered.
It wasn’t concern for him really; it was concern for everyone else, including herself. Telling a dracomon news they didn’t want to hear had cost Pesnu-Jok dearly; now her master seemed to be suggesting she do the same.
Master Gang dismissed her pleas with a wave. “Leave it to Sey-Laht, I said! Now enough!”
Feeling very much like a coward, she did her best to sneak unseen into the main Chey building to find Pesnu-Jok. She was intent on telling him the dracomon was in Master Sey-Laht’s hands now, then she planned to flee back to her master’s residence. If she got a chance to gloat over the concern that was very likely to be on Pesnu-Jok’s face, well, all the better.
She didn’t get near the side door to the building before she was waylaid by monks, of all things. An elderly one in particular seemed to know her, and insisted on grasping her hand, which was very unusual for a monk, she thought. Generally, they avoided the touch of women, but not this one. They then thanked all dragon-mages for their service, which made her suddenly recall Ich-Mek’s visit to Shrindala Temple.
“What happened?” she was finally able to ask the group, who had been blessing her continuously now for a minute or two.
“The quantum empties!” one of the monks proclaimed joyously.
Before she could get an explanation out of them for what this might mean, the monks were chased off by several Seechen, who came to inform her the Chancellor was waiting. Feeling shameful for being discovered so easily, she agreed to be led to Pesnu-Jok. The Chancellor seemed unphased when she informed him things were now in Master Sey-Laht’s hands concerning master Lu-Pok.
“However did we function without an apprentice?” Pesnu-Jok said scornfully as he dismissively turned away.
She shook her head with disgust at his back before telling him, “I’m not having anything more to do with him.”
Before she could walk out, he told her unrepentantly, “Oh, I doubt that very much…Fu-Sa. You are to attend Master Sey-Laht immediately. He awaits you.”
Her jaw nearly dropped. “Where?”
The “where” turned out to be one of the Chey buildings she had never stepped foot in before, save once: on her arrival in the capital via the oval-gate that was housed here. The thick hoop was mounted on an ornate frame of marble, allowing it to hang just above the floor. She couldn’t recall more than the simple fact she had been escorted through it and then out of the building on that fateful day.
Seechen were buzzing like flies around the entrance to the building, and some looked truly sad to have to watch her enter. Little was said as she was quickly admitted through several doors, then into the great chamber of the oval-gate.
Her skin prickled suddenly as she gazed at the gate, causing her to look sharply to either side of the entrance. To her left stood Lu-Pok, and far off to her right was Master Sey-Laht. Wishing not to look toward the dracomon, she focused on Master Sey-Laht, who appeared to be preparing something.
“Master?” Yi-La called out hesitantly. “Should I—”
He cut off her question with a hand gesture that informed her to wait where she stood. That left her feeling it necessary to glance toward Lu-Pok, who seemed to be standing very much in waiting, just as she.
“Waiting on our masters is a learned patience,” Lu-Pok said quietly to her.
She found herself staring at the floor and trying hard not to feel obligated to say anything to him. Etiquette here was completely beyond her training. Everything pointed to the fact he was not of noble birth, nor, certainly, a mage of any standing. Socially, she thought, he was beneath her. But then there was the dracomon aspect to all this.
He clearly wasn’t willing to let her ignore him, saying, “I startle you, Fu-Sa. For that, I apologize.”
It was a statement of fact, she knew, but it was also intended to subjugate her, she was sure. Looking to the dragon-mage on the far side of the room gave her the resolve not to simply accept this. She was a dragon-mage herself.
“Think nothing of it, master Lu-Pok,” she said as she continued to stare at the floor.
Just saying his name aloud seemed to give her some power over him, she felt; emotionally, anyway. But it also made her connect somehow with him, which she had promised herself she wouldn’t allow herself to do.
“My coming here was purposely sudden,” he informed her. “I wish it had been otherwise, for you.”
She blushed as her heart raced, and for the life of her knew not why. This arrogant person, if that was indeed what he was, should just be gone, she wished. But she was stuck with him for the moment, she knew. Turning her back a little toward him was the only signal she could think to give that wouldn’t shame her.
There was a long silence, with the only noises coming from Master Sey-Laht as he worked with a couple of Seechen that were assisting him. The time passed excruciatingly slowly for her as she worried about what tasks this master was about to demand of her. They had worked together so rarely that she had absolutely no idea of what to expect. When Lu-Pok finally spoke again she was startled slightly out of her reverie.
“You do not tremble,” he told her in a flattering tone. “I think that’s impressive, and find it—”
“Why should I tremble?” she said, turning her back even more to him. “I am a dragon-mage!”
“You are at that, Fu-Sa,” he acknowledged. “A deep concession for me, and a lofty one for you.”
She fumed now, and couldn’t keep from tapping the floor repeatedly with her toe. “Why do you talk like that?” she asked irreverently.
There was a pause before he answered, “Because I’m allowed to do it so infrequently.”
She doubted this. He was a dracomon. Who was going to dare stop such from speaking to whomever they wanted?
“I don’t like it!” she declared before realizing she wasn’t sounding very eloquent; not like him.
“Hmm…” he muttered. “Please keep your displeasure from our master.”
She turned to look at him questioningly. “Our master?” she asked skeptically.
Lu-Pok gave her a wide smile as he clicked his fingernail several times on the obscenely wide collar around his neck. It made the tiny attached chains and baubles jingle slightly.
__________________________
“He is charming you, Fu-Sa!” Narween exclaimed with a grimace. “You don’t like that, do you?”
“You know I hate him!” Yi-La growled.
Narween gave a skeptical look that made Yi-La gasp with false indignation. Nodding her chin toward Rau-Nap, Yi-La hoped to get him to change the subject. Master Sey-Laht was having her prepare for travel with him, and apparently with Lu-Pok as well. They were going through the oval-gate, and she was to be ready tomorrow.
“This is everything he’s given you?” Rau-Nap asked as he continued to examine the scrolls she had laid out on the table.
“Yesss,” she replied with some lingering distaste for the subject of Lu-Pok.
Having the brothers and Narween review things wasn’t necessary but was reassuring to her. The scrolls included protection spells, and defensive precautions dealing with the subject of dragons. It was all very distracting from her goal of helping Ich-Mek somehow.
“There is this also,” she said with some hesitation as she pulled a tiny scroll from her p
ocket. “I think it is from Ich-Mek.”
“How did you get it, Fu-Sa?” Narween asked disbelievingly as she unfurrowed it.
“I don’t know,” Yi-La admitted. “It was in my pocket.”
“A transformative spell?” Bua-Nap asked with interest.
“No! A monk, I would guess.”
It was likely, she had concluded, that one in the crowd of well-wishing monks had slipped it into her pocket the day before. It was a short letter that wasn’t even signed by Ich-Mek, which she found disappointing, for some reason. In it were vague references like “…I must go elsewhere to find a willing master” and “…please forgive my absence.”
The most import one, which she had been desperately trying to make sense of, referred to a quantum. Recalling that one of the monks had used that word had allowed her to conclude they had been responsible for delivering the letter to her.
…temple’s quantum may contain what Tang seeks…
“What does that mean to you?” Yi-La asked the three of them as she pointed to the words.
“Are you sure it is from Ich-Mek?” Bua-Nap asked as he shook his head.
Yi-La nodded her head confidently. “Yes, I recognize his handwriting. We used to practice letter-writing in etiquette class.”
“Who is Tang?” a very serious Rau-Nap asked impudently.
Yi-La admitted she didn’t know, but then Narween spoke up to say, “I know that name! The man in the cave, remember?”
Yi-La stared at her friend for a long time before nodding her head slightly. Yes, she now recalled the persistent rumors of a cave below the school. There was supposedly a man there that would teach the girls forbidden magecraft, among other things. It made her heart quicken a little bit from girlish memories of fantasizing with her friends about the cave and the man.
“That might have been his name,” Yi-La admitted. “But he is not real?”
“Yes he is!” Narween declared adamantly.