The Flame Iris Temple Read online

  After dawn, he departed from the palace and went to visit the Temple of Thundering Truth. There he invited Jay and Ven Kirdar to come defend the Kelten embassy from Vasvar assassins. The two Rutal-lil discussed the offer between themselves and agreed.

  “We have not set a date for our departure, but you must not expect us to remain in your embassy indefinitely,” Jay told him. “We both like Tokolas, but this is not our home. Still, our orders were left intentionally vague, and we can stay as long as we see a need.”

  “Cousin Miri tells us that you are now like one of the great shamans of Shila,” Ven said. “In truth, you seem a very different man since we first met you. In my country, we have an expression: There is an eagle flying over his head. That’s how you seem to me.”

  Jay nodded in agreement. Sandun made no effort to deny it; he had changed.

  In the afternoon, Sandun talked with Frostel in the Rowan Horse Temple, where he had been recuperating since his near death in the palace of Kemeklos. Sandun described his need for a group of skilled warriors from Frostel’s temple to help Lord Vaina defend against Vasvar assassins. Frostel, sitting at a simple wooden table, slapped his hands upon wood, upsetting the dishes set there.

  “I take pride in pronouncing that none but todoskar from Rulon Mors Temple are worthy of accompanying you, Lord Sandun. At my temple, we have fifty warriors, or todoskar, who are not yet masters but fully trained. You might call them Opmi. These men would suit your needs perfectly, and they would learn more by coming here and helping you than they would by spending additional years in the temple, honing their skills. I can send word to the temple or go myself. I have been thinking about returning for a week as I am nearly recovered.”

  Sandun, concerned at the thought of the Rutal-lil and Frostel both leaving Tokolas, asked him to stay. “We need you here in Tokolas, Blue Frostel. You are an inspiration to many of Lord Vaina’s soldiers. Like the scholars of the Great Sage Temple who have taken positions in Lord Vaina’s government, isn’t it time for the warriors of the Rulon Mors to rejoin the world? Why not help Lord Vaina in his quest to unify Serica? What reason is there for you to return to your temple in Torsihad? You can spread the teachings of your ancestor General Frostel more widely here in Tokolas than you can isolated on the top of your great karst.”

  Frostel stared back at him, his eyes unfocused. Sandun could see the warrior’s spirit was lit with new colors, new thoughts. “End our centuries of splendid retreat? Pick a side and help the governor become king of Serica? You don’t know what you are asking, Lord Sandun.”

  “The governor told me he misjudged you,” Sandun said. “He called you a hero. The official report on the Northern Expedition praised your leadership and courage. He needs you. I need you, here and for the next ten years,” Sandun said this, almost commandingly. He felt it; he wanted this to happen. He was the champion of Ajh, and this was something he wanted. He bent his thoughts on Frostel and held the man’s eyes for several heartbeats until the other finally looked away.

  “Your words move me, Lord Sandun. I agree. You killed Nilin Ulim, striking the greatest blow any man has struck for Serica in a hundred years. There is no need to deny your deed—the word has spread throughout the city.” Frostel rose from his chair and drew his sword. “Why shouldn’t I give a new direction to the Rulon Mors? I’ve done more than any of the other masters. I led the attack that captured the Water Gate of Kemeklos. I slew the captain of the Kitran in single combat. I’ve proved my name! Why shouldn’t we pick a side? The Iron King wants to re-create the Water Kingdom, but Lord Vaina clearly seeks to create something new. I like it. I approve of his actions, and I will see that he is crowned king!”

  Frostel stood there, a hesitant smile wreathed his face, almost as though he was surprised he said the words he had just spoken. He sheathed his sword and sat down. “This will take some time. Like all proper campaigns, planning goes before sudden action. I will win them over to my side, but the ground must reconnoitered before the battle is fought. You have given me a great task, Lord Sandun. Good. I wondered what I would do with myself in the coming year.” He laughed, and the two men shook hands across the table.

  That night in the palace was also uneventful. Sandun grew bored and spent long hours before dawn not searching for the Sekovie but trying to waken the ancient Piksie sword. He held it in his hands, and with his spirit moved into the magic labyrinth that the master smith who made the sword had once created. Progress was slow and difficult.

  The next night, Miri said she would accompany him. Sandun tried to dissuade her, saying it was likely to be terribly dull and cold, but Miri responded that if it was dull, she could sleep, and as for cold, the guards could readily supply a brazier; there really was no reason for them to freeze inside the storehouse. Sandun had to admit the truth in her words.

  The night started out just as before with a circuit around the perimeter. Then they holed up beside a brazier that Miri obtained from the East Gate guard house. By midnight, she was asleep, lying on a makeshift hard bed of wooden beams. “Just like home,” she said before she drifted off.

  Sandun spent two hours traveling across the second world. His vague sense of unease gradually dissipated as nothing happened, with no sign of the Sekovie. He again laid Ghost Wolf’s sword on his lap and tried to find his way inside the hideously complex puzzle by which the long-dead Junithoy swordsmith had given the blade the power it once possessed.

  Too late he withdrew from contemplation of the sword to find a group of guards, bursting into the room.

  “These are the assassins!” shouted the man leading the charge. “You see, they have taken my appearance. Kill them before they vanish!” Sandun was appalled to see that a person who looked just like him was waving a sword that looked like his own sword and running straight for him.

  In an instant, Sandun understood what was happening. The Sekovie were clever: one had taken on his own shape, and the other had taken the form of Miri. Even though he knew the truth, the illusion was astonishing in its accuracy and detail. The shape-changer in the lead looked and sounded just like himself. The guards, six men of the patrol, had their spears gripped tightly in their hands and were rushing behind the false Sandun, ready to kill. Sandun couldn’t hope to defeat them and save Miri as well.

  He had no choice and no time to consider alternatives. Driven by panic, he woke the dragon circle and pulled down a massive blast of lightning onto the head of his doppelganger, who was just a sword’s length away.

  The blast was far too powerful for the small room, and the noise was deafening as its roared about the enclosed space. As the thunder faded, Miri started screaming, the coals from the knocked-over brazier started small fires on the sacks of roof tiles, and the surviving Sekovos, the one who had taken Miri’s shape, turned and fled.

  Sandun wanted desperately to kill the fleeing shapeshifter, but he had unwisely used nearly all his power in that first blast. He couldn’t leave Miri blinded and stunned inside a burning building. With his sword in one hand, he lifted Miri over his shoulder and, stepping over the corpses of the guards, carried her out of the storehouse, with smoke and firelight at his back.

  The thunder had not been confined to the storehouse. The door had been open, and the sound must have echoed throughout the palace. The sounds of guard clackers and shouting came from all directions. Sandun was in no position to fight them, but he could tell that the surviving shapeshifter was rapidly moving away, heading north, toward the garden and the kitchen beyond.

  Sandun considered giving chase but abandoned that idea. Setting Miri on her unsteady feet, he guided her away from the storeroom with his sword held high in the air.

  “I am Lord Sandun!” he shouted at the first group of guards. “This is my wife, the Lady Miri. Assassins attempted to kill us both, and there was an explosion.”

  “What happened?”

  “What caused the explosion?”

>   “Why are there dead guards inside the building?”

  Sandun repeated his story several times to the suspicious guards. It wasn’t a very good story, but they were inclined to believe him. One of the guards near the entrance wasn’t dead, and when he was able to talk, his story didn’t actually contradict Sandun’s. The guard reported that Sandun and the Lady Miri had come up to them just a short while ago, saying they had located the assassins from Vasvar inside the storeroom. They had rushed over; along the way, Sandun had told them the two assassins were in disguise. As the surviving guard was bringing up the rear, he hadn’t seen clearly who was inside the storehouse. “Then, I don’t remember anything more.”

  Miri had the good sense to keep quiet and simply shook her head in response to their questions. Lord Vaina finally appeared, and Sandun sheathed his sword.

  Lord Vaina came up to Sandun with a questioning look. Sandun said to him, very quietly: “I think there are three bodies still inside the burning building: two guards and one Sekovos.” Sandun emphasized the last word, which no one else would understand. Lord Vaina’s eyes widened, and then he swiftly issued orders.

  “The fire must be put out, but no one is to enter the building. I will personally conduct the investigation into this…event, assisted by my spymaster, Number Eight, and Guard Commander Tokalesi. Please escort Advisor Sandun and his wife to the guesthouse, where I want twelve men on guard. Everyone must remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity to me.”

  Inside the guesthouse, Miri lay down, and Sandun sat beside her, holding her hand. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “There is a ringing in my ears, spots swim in my sight, and my heart is racing as though I just jumped into an icy pool,” Miri said, ticking off her ailments. “Also, my fur coat is ruined from burning embers. Otherwise, I guess I’m fine.”

  “You should sleep,” Sandun told her. “You will be safe.”

  Miri looked at him with a thoughtful expression and then dropped her eyes. “As we say in Shila, a narrow escape from death means you will have good fortune in the future. Heaven must have some plan for both of us.”

  “You are correct about that,” Sandun replied. “And you are safe now. I believe the danger has passed.”

  Eventually, Lord Vaina joined them; he looked like he was mulling over several thorny problems. He sat down facing the couple and drained the remaining tea from their teapot on the table. Without any preamble, he began, “I’m sure you know what happened, but here is the story Number Eight is going to write down as the official, but secret, report. Last night, you discovered the location of the Vasvar assassin. Yes, one assassin. Although his prime target was myself, the assassin decided to eliminate you, Sandun, first. But you were too clever. You left the storehouse and found the guard patrol. You then led them back to the warehouse, with the assassin still inside. However, when you burst into the room, the assassin set off a package of lopor, which killed him and all but one of the guards of the patrol. You survived by extraordinary good fortune, as did the guard at the rear and Lady Miri.”

  Sandun showed the barest hint of a smile.

  “This is nearly the opposite of the truth, and it doesn’t perfectly fit the facts, but it should hold up well enough,” Lord Vaina said. “Would you like to see the body of the…” Lord Vaina shuddered before he continued. “Of the assassin? It will be thrown into a deep channel of the Mur in a weighted sack very shortly.”

  Sandun agreed and Miri nodded. Lord Vaina led the way back to the storehouse. Inside the partially burned building, one body was lying in the rear, already wrapped in a thick grayish canvas. Sandun smelled a faint but unmistakable odor of burnt lopor; puzzled, he halted and looked around questioningly.

  Lord Vaina picked up a piece of charred wood and held it up to Sandun’s inspection. The smell of lopor came strongly from that piece. “Number Eight’s idea. He had some of the war minister’s test materials brought over and planted here. He has such a devious mind.”

  An old man started to unwrap the body. Sandun recognized the man; it was Doctor Hofanta, the only doctor in Kunhalvar province who had a few pieces of white-nose wort in his shop. White-nose wort had been a partial antidote for the poison that Nilin Ulim used to try and kill the Keltens half a year ago. Doctor Hofanta looked and sounded a bit worse for wear; his wispy white hair seemed thinner as it waved around his splotchy skull; his heavy breathing seemed more labored than before.

  Pulling the canvas away from the body, the aged doctor revealed the dead Sekovos, naked from the waist up. The chest and arms might have belonged to a slim man, though the skin color was unusual, almost greenish in the light that shone through holes in the roof. But the face and head! No one looked like that, no person that Sandun had ever seen. The single intact eye was wide and set at an angle, and the face was narrow and vulpine. The creature’s hair, what little that remained, was like that of a cat. Doctor Hofanta silently pointed to each distinguishing feature with a long, bony finger. There were odd discolorations on the dead body; Sandun guessed the marks were due to the lightning blast he had unleashed that had killed the shapeshifter along with the other guards. Sandun couldn’t tell the age of the Sekovos, but it didn’t give the impression of youth.

  Miri turned away and bowed her head, chanting what sounded like a prayer in the language of Shila. At a gesture from Lord Vaina, Dr. Hofanta began rewrapping the body. Other than Miri’s prayer, no one said anything.

  Sandun felt unmoved by the stark evidence of the death he had wrought. He had been given no choice. The shapeshifter had attacked him, striking without warning from a careful disguise, threatening his life and that of his wife. Why? What had Sandun done to him? He would get no answers from the cold, bloodless lips of the dead creature.

  The fox-spirits had tricked six men into following them, and Sandun had killed five of them. That he felt sorry about. The deaths of the guards had been—at least partially—his fault. With more practice, he could have killed only the two shapeshifters and left the guards alive. But he hadn’t practiced, had he? He had a power, but he didn’t know how to properly wield it. Not that he knew where he could practice his power in Tokolas without attracting the notice of several thousand people.

  “I’m sorry about your men, Lord Vaina,” Sandun said, as Miri’s voice faded away. The governor looked at him sharply and then at Doctor Hofanta.

  “Not a word about any of this, yes, Doctor?” Lord Vaina said firmly.

  “Of course, my lord, of course. This fading mind will carry your secrets unspoken to my grave, which I suspect will not be long denied its destined company. Though I’m sure Doctor Haz could keep his mouth shut as well as I.” Hofanta said this with a question in his voice.

  Lord Vaina understood the man’s implied question. “I prefer the court physician to always speak the truth to me and my family. But this must never be spoken of again. Fox-spirits do not exist and are certainly not trying to kill me.”

  “Quite so, my lord. This um…stranger from Vasvar was doubtless an actor, skilled with face paint and the mimicking of voices. We can all breathe easier at the death of such a scoundrel.”

  “Just so. What is your fee, Doctor?”

  “This old man has done little more today than poke at a few corpses,” Doctor Hofanta said with unconcern born from long familiarity with the dead. “A silver cat is more than sufficient payment for his work.”

  “Very well. But I will give you an additional gift. Choose any doctor, other than Haz, and he shall take over your practice when you choose to end it. The poor need medical care as much as the wealthy, and you care for many.”

  Doctor Hofanta considered Lord Vaina’s words, and a sly smile gradually lit up his face. He chuckled for a moment, but that ended with a raspy wheeze. “I should by rights use your gift to force Doctor Gorise to take my practice. That would pay him back for the many slights has given me over the years. But Gorise w
ouldn’t care for my patients with proper respect.” As he said the word respect, Hofanta began coughing, and Sandun came over to the old man and gently patted his back. Gradually the coughing subsided.

  “If you would direct the city officials to send over three of the newest doctors to register with the office, I’ll pick one and try him out. It will be like having an apprentice. Thank you, Governor.”

  Leaving Hofanta to finish covering the body, Lord Vaina led the way out.

  “You are free to return to your home, Lady Eiger,” Lord Vaina said to Miri, using her married name. She bowed with perfect grace to him and to Sandun and walked away as though she had just spent the night in a comfortable bed instead of nearly being killed.

  Back at Lord Vaina’s private alcove next to the council chambers, the two men sat, facing each other.

  “Six guards and two others burst into the storeroom. Seconds later, six of the eight are dead, one knocked senseless, and one other manages to escape over the wall using a previously concealed rope ladder. And you, unarmored, without a scratch, walk out of the burning building, carrying your wife. You have been holding out on me, Sandun. Old Hofanta took one look at the dead guards and said ‘lightning.’ No hesitation. I agree with him. I saw all the bodies. You didn’t kill them with your sword. Your adesari gave you more than the power to pacify ghosts and a curious aversion to food. You can summon lightning, just like the legendary King Shu.”