by K J Taylor
Ambit watched the training with interest. Some of the monks were training with swords, some with staffs, and three of them had bows. He was the only one in the room with a spear.
The pink-eyed monk who had greeted him at the door caught up with him and beckoned to him to come. ‘The abbot will want to meet you.’
Ambit followed him and his companion without saying anything. He felt even sicker than before now; his stomach fluttered, and he had started to feel removed from what was going on around him, as if he were withdrawing from it.
The two monks showed him through a door at the back of the training room, and along a corridor into the next building. The walls were richly decorated with paintings of flowers, fruits and plants, and the stone floor had been softened by woven-grass mats.
At the far end, a pale brown door carved with attractive patterns opened onto a small but comfortable-looking space: square, like the training room, with solid wooden furniture. The tables were covered by pots with plants flourishing in them, chairs were draped in fine fabric, and there was a nest of scented cushions where the abbot was relaxing. It looked very domestic, but Ambit had already noticed the rack of weapons hanging on the wall within easy reach of the abbot.
Carefully holding his spear with the point downward, he bowed to the abbot and waited for him to speak first.
The abbot, a surprisingly young man in a red robe, which matched his eyes and striped hair, stayed seated. ‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’
‘Ambit Afterman.’
‘Welcome, Ambit,’ said the abbot. ‘Have you come to join our order?’
‘No,’ said Ambit, ‘and I didn’t come here to train either.’
The abbot looked surprised. ‘Then why are you here?’
‘I wanted to learn more about demons,’ Ambit said carefully. ‘About why they’re here.’
‘Ah,’ said the abbot, a knowing glint replacing his surprise. ‘So you’re another young man coming here believing he could be the Chosen One.’
Ambit’s stomach lurched. ‘Er, no,’ he said, ‘but I would like to learn more about that as well.’
The abbot finally stood up. ‘Show me your hand.’
Ambit held out his left hand.
‘The other one,’ said the abbot.
Ambit switched his spear to his left hand, and held out his right. ‘Knock yourself out, holiness.’
The abbot took him by the wrist and pulled Ambit’s hand toward him, turning it over to inspect the palm. He murmured to himself when he saw what was there. On the heel of Ambit’s palm, just above the spot where it joined his wrist, a large burn scar had left the skin twisted and gnarled. It spread up onto the palm proper, and extended toward his thumb.
‘Accident with a stove when I was little,’ said Ambit. ‘Can I have my hand back now?’
The abbot let him go. ‘It looks painful,’ he said, with a touch of disappointment.
‘It was,’ said Ambit. ‘Does the Chosen One have a mark there, then?’ he asked, unable to stop himself.
‘According to the prophecy, yes,’ said the abbot. ‘The mark of the demonslayer.’
‘What does it look like?’ asked Ambit.
‘Everyone asks that. The mark will be in the shape of a silver bellflower. The rarest flower in the world, and the most holy.’
Ambit forced himself not to groan. ‘Sounds fancy. Can you tell me anything else about this Chosen One?’
‘He will wield a sacred weapon, the location of which is unknown,’ said the abbot, discreetly waving his two underlings away. ‘A weapon that can kill demons without ever being destroyed by their molten blood.’
‘Sounds great. Where do I get something like that?’ asked Ambit, tightening his grip on the spear.
The abbot glared at him. ‘As I said, nobody knows where it is, but the Chosen One will be able to wield it with great skill.’
‘How are you going to find this person, anyway?’ asked Ambit.
‘The prophecy says he will come here one day, ignorant of his true identity, and on that day he will begin his training until he is ready to hear the prophecy. Once he knows what he must do to rid the world of the demons, he will be ready to fulfil the prophecy.’
‘What about this prophecy, then?’ said Ambit. ‘I mean, where did it come from?’
‘It was given to us by the Oracle,’ said the abbot. ‘He lives here underneath the monastery.’
Ambit tensed. ‘Can I go and see him?’
‘No, the prophecy is not something for idle curiosity, and nor is the Oracle who speaks it. The full details are for the Chosen One’s ears only.’
‘Why’s that, then?’ asked Ambit, his heart sinking.
‘Because if anyone else knew about it, the demons could find out about it,’ said the abbot. ‘The knowledge must remain secret.’
‘Have you ever heard this prophecy, then?’ asked Ambit. ‘All of it, I mean.’
‘No, and nor has anyone else in the monastery,’ said the abbot. ‘The Oracle gave us part of it, enough to help us know the Chosen One when he comes. When he does come and we take him to meet the Oracle, he will hear the rest of it in private.’
‘Understood,’ said Ambit. ‘He lives under the monastery, you say?’
‘Yes,’ said the abbot. ‘Now, was that all you had to ask?’
‘It looks like it,’ said Ambit. ‘Thanks. Is it all right if I stay here for a day or two before I go? It took a long time to get here.’
‘Of course,’ said the abbot, ‘and if you want, you can train with us while you’re here.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ambit.
After that, he more or less stopped listening to anything else that was said to him while his hosts showed him to a spare sleeping cell, offered him food, and introduced him to a couple of senior monks, who invited him to spar with them once he had rested. Ambit kept quiet, saying almost nothing until, toward the end, he asked one of his hosts if there was a laundry handy.
‘Oh, yes,’ said the pink-eyed monk, who had taken on the job of looking after him for the moment. ‘In fact, I was going to ask if you’d like us to wash your clothes for you. You can have a novice robe to wear in the meantime.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ambit.
He accepted the robe they offered him, and put it on while his shirt and trousers went off to the laundry with the promise that he’d get them back the next day. After that he excused himself to his room, saying he wanted to get some sleep, but the moment he was alone he climbed out the window and ran upriver to meet Snarl.
By now the sun had begun to go down, and the small demon had dug herself a burrow at their meeting place. When Ambit arrived she was nowhere to be seen, but her head poked out of the hole when he called her name.
‘There you are,’ she said. ‘Why are you wearing that? They didn’t force you to join them, did they?’
‘They asked if I was interested, but no,’ said Ambit. ‘I got them to wash my clothes for me.’
‘Since when did you care about that?’ said Snarl, emerging fully from her burrow.
‘I don’t, but it was a clever idea,’ said Ambit. ‘Now I’ve got this I can wander around that place without being noticed, which is good because that’s what I’m going to do tonight.’
‘Why?’ asked Snarl. ‘What did you find out? Did they tell you anything?’
Ambit leaned his spear against a handy rock, and sat down beside it. ‘Yeah, they did, but it’s not enough,’ he said. ‘I need to get to this Oracle if I want to hear the important parts. So once everyone’s gone to sleep tonight I’m going to do some snooping around and see if I can find him.’
‘Who’s the Oracle?’ asked Snarl. ‘Tell me everything.’
Ambit repeated what the abbot had told him, and finished with, ‘So we know my granddad was right, but it’s not enough. One way or another I’ve got to get to the Oracle.’
‘D’you need my help?’ said Snarl.
‘I’d like it, but it wouldn’t be a good idea,’ sai
d Ambit. ‘No, you’d better let me do this one on my own.’
‘What if you get caught?’ she asked.
Ambit shrugged. ‘What if I get caught? What are they going to do – throw me in the river? With all those idiots coming by to visit they must get plenty of people trying to sneak in and see the Oracle. I doubt they did anything to them except kick them out. Anyway . . . I’ll come back tomorrow and tell you how it went.’
‘All right,’ said Snarl. ‘Just be careful.’
‘Around here I think you have to be more careful than I do,’ said Ambit. ‘See you later.’
Ambit snuck back into the monastery the same way he had left it, and went to find the pink-eyed monk, who now introduced himself as Soward.
‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked.
Ambit made a show of rubbing his eyes. ‘Yeah, thanks. I was wondering . . . if you’re not busy, could you maybe show me around? When I get home everyone’s going to be asking questions about this place.’
‘No problem,’ said Soward. ‘Where are you from, anyway?’
‘Spotswood,’ Ambit said promptly. ‘Not too far away, luckily.’
‘Luckily!’ said Soward. ‘We’ve had visitors who have come all the way from Lucknow City.’
‘That’s a lot of walking,’ said Ambit, falling in beside his guide as the tour began.
‘But worth it, apparently,’ said Soward. ‘Now, come along.’
The tour began, and Ambit listened carefully to everything his new friend told him. Soward showed him the kitchens, the laundry (where Ambit’s clothes were already hanging up to dry), the library, the gardens (very well maintained, Ambit thought), the beehives, and the lookout tower, which wasn’t constantly manned, but nevertheless had some monks living inside it who could run to the top and ring the bell if they happened to see anyone coming.
‘We farm, and we sell honey from our hives to travelling traders,’ Soward explained along the way. ‘People who visit often bring gifts. It’s a quiet life, but very satisfying. Good for the soul.’
‘Charming,’ said Ambit. ‘What about the weapons?’
‘We train with those every day,’ said Soward, ‘but mostly for self-defence; some of us go travelling, and we need to be able to protect ourselves. Once, a gang of demons came all the way here. Fortunately, we were able to fight them off, though that was a long time ago. I notice you haven’t put that spear of yours down since you got here – I’m sure it’ll be safe in your room.’
‘I know, but I never let it out of my sight,’ said Ambit.
‘Special, is it?’
‘It belonged to my grandfather,’ said Ambit. ‘I promised I’d take care of it. Where are we up to now?’
They had wandered to the library, where some monks were quietly studying.
‘We have a very large collection of books in here, as you can see,’ said Soward, ‘including a substantial section on demons. We write books here, too, sometimes.’
‘Uh-huh,’ said Ambit, already bored. He pointed. ‘What’s that over there?’
Soward looked. ‘Just a rug,’ he said. ‘I think it was a gift from someone.’
‘But there’s something underneath it, isn’t there?’ said Ambit.
The monk turned away. ‘Er, no, I think it’s just a bit ruffled,’ he said, and then hastily changed the subject.
Ambit, however, had already spotted the edge of a wooden frame set into the floor, and he smiled slyly to himself. He’d found what he was after.
‘Anyway, I think that’s everything,’ said Soward. ‘The bell should ring for dinner soon.’
‘Oh good,’ said Ambit, thinking that a meal would be just the thing to get him ready for a little snooping around.
The dining room was a long and fairly simple affair close to the kitchens, where every monk, including the abbot, sat on benches at a long table. Ambit sat with the novices, tucking his spear away under the bench, and waited for the food to appear. It was carried in by a group of monks who were on kitchen duty for that day.
The food turned out to be simple, but nourishing: fruit and vegetables from the monastery garden, trout from the river, freshly baked bread, berry cakes, and hot spiced mead. Ambit ate, wishing his robe had pockets so he could tuck a few things away for travel rations. He’d have to ask for some food to take away the next day, assuming they didn’t catch him trying to get to the Oracle.
Meanwhile, the others around him were talking about the latest news to arrive at the monastery, and he listened in while he downed his third drink.
‘The king’s going to pull his troops out of demon territory,’ one monk said. ‘That’s what that trader yesterday told me. He’s pulling them back to the capital.’
Several of his listeners groaned.
‘We’ll never get rid of the demons if even the king won’t fight them anymore,’ one of the novices said. ‘I mean, who else is there?’
‘What I want to know is when is the Chosen One going to show up,’ the novice beside him complained. ‘How long have we been waiting since the Oracle told us about him? Ten years? Twenty?’
‘He’ll show up when the time is right,’ an older monk told him.
‘When’s that, then? You know what I think?’ the novice added before his elder could reply. ‘I think this whole Chosen One thing is nonsense.’
‘What do you think?’ someone else asked, turning to Ambit. ‘You’re new here – what have you heard about all this?’
‘The same as what everyone else has heard,’ said Ambit. ‘The day will be saved any minute now by the Chosen One, blah, blah, blah. But what about this Oracle? I mean, have any of you seen him?’
They glanced at each other.
‘I’ve never seen him,’ said the novice. ‘Don’t know anyone who has either, except some of the older monks and the abbot himself. But they never talk about it. I only know the Oracle’s under the monastery.’
‘I heard him once,’ said one of his friends. ‘A long time ago now I was sent down to the old storerooms, under the library, and I passed a locked door and heard something moving around. And there was this sort of groaning sound.’
Ambit smiled into his drink at the words ‘under the library’. Tonight was going to be a lot easier than he had originally thought. He wouldn’t have to wander around the entire monastery looking for the right trapdoor. He wondered if he should steal a couple of books while he was at it – he’d decide later. For now, he knew what to do.
After dinner he went back to his room with his head spinning slightly, and lay down to rest and wait for things to quieten down. Eventually he dozed, but he woke up a few hours later needing to pee, and when he went out to find the privy he found the monastery was dark and deserted. Time to get going.
He found the privy and relieved himself, then set off toward the library. He did his best to move quietly, but didn’t try too hard. If anyone did hear him, he wanted them to hear someone walking rather than someone sneaking around. Too much stealth could be just as bad as not enough, and if someone saw him he could just tell them he was going for a walk or something. He’d had plenty of practice in lying his way out of difficult situations, and into desirable ones.
He found the library empty and closed the door before he went to investigate the suspicious rug. Sure enough, when he moved it aside he found a large and battered trapdoor underneath. It wasn’t even locked. He lifted it, and a blast of cold, stale air hit him in the face.
Under the trapdoor, a ladder led into musty darkness. Ambit rose from his crouch to go and swipe a lamp from a little niche in the library wall. He hung it from the end of his spear and climbed down the ladder, alert for any sound.
There wasn’t any. The ladder led to a dusty underground corridor lined with doors. It didn’t look as if anyone had been down here in a long time. Even so, before Ambit went any further he put the lantern down on the floor and went back up the ladder to close the trapdoor behind him. Hopefully, if anyone came into the library they wouldn’t notice the rug
had been moved.
Feeling a little more secure now, he picked up the lantern again and began to investigate, opening each door in turn.
The rooms off the corridor weren’t very interesting; some had old junk in them, others were empty, and one, the most well-kept, was full of barrels. Ambit looked wistfully at them before he closed the door and continued.
When he found the door he was after, he knew almost immediately that he had found the right one. It was much bigger than the others, made from thick wood reinforced with metal. He knew before he tried that it would be locked, and it was.
Ambit smiled to himself, and unwrapped a bit of wire from just behind the point of his spear. Once he had straightened it out he pushed it into the lock and worked away at it until a click told him he’d succeeded. He put the wire back and pushed the door open a crack. There was light on the other side, and also heat, and as he opened the door enough to peer through he heard a faint groan.
Ambit peeked, and saw something so unbelievable he nearly slammed the door closed out of pure shock. Instead, he froze for a long moment, staring at it, then opened the door and entered.
The room was a small one, almost identical to the storerooms he’d already seen, in fact. Lamps burned on the walls, and a faint glow emanated from what sat in the middle of the floor. There – a long time ago by the look of it – someone had built a round stone tub. And sitting in that tub, chained in place by metal rings around its wrists, was a demon.
The demon didn’t seem to notice Ambit when he came in, but Ambit couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake. Actually, he couldn’t tell much about him at all, other than the fact that he looked terrible. He sat hunched in its tub, head low and barely stirring. Someone had hacked off his horns and spikes and blunted his claws. The long steel fangs had been pulled out; Ambit could see the holes where they had been.