Wrath of the Blue Lady (6 page)

This time the blue crystal glowed like pale moonlight.

The illumination slowly pulsed outward and filled the room.

Shards of an elaborately painted vase lay scattered on the floor. Valuable, Shang-Li noted, scanning the swirling decorations. A piece from a druid clan in Dragon Reach that had attained some prominence. Kouldar wouldn’t be happy about that. Lifting the glowing necklace, Shang-Li swept his gaze around the room. Like the outer room, this one had floor-to-ceiling shelves lining the walls. Instead of books, though, other objects filled the shelves as well.

Multi-colored lights reflected from gemstones and precious metals and the locks of small chests. Weapons—swords and knives, and bows with quivers of arrows—lay among them.

Goddess of the green, Shang-Li thought as he held the glowing crystal before him. The scribe’s story hadn’t prepared him for the treasure trove that lay around him.

After spending a moment orienting himself, he searched through the book collections. Histories, studies of plants and animals, journals written by wizards, treatises of learned men who sought to understand spellcraft, and books about other lands filled the shelves. His quick mind grasped that in short order, though the topics appeared disparate. Kouldar was obviously a collector of some magnitude.

Grayling’s lost log by her third mate was located with a clutch of books regarding other ships lost in the Sea of Fallen Stars. If Shang-Li hadn’t been knowledgeable of those lost ships, he might not have made the connection.

Although the book showed wear and tear, it had obviously been well made. Shang-Li had expected a common sailor’s log filled with rough, woody sheets, but the pages were pristine and white even after all these years—not a feat many could do and something that was paid dearly for. A few of the pages held stains from drink and food. Others had burn marks that scored the pages and had eaten holes in places. The pasteboards that held the pages together were thin wooden leaves bound in sturdy cloth. The author’s name was mostly worn away.

Shang-Li had no doubt that this was the book he’d come for. The scribe had described it very well. Reluctantly, Shang-Li temporarily avoided the siren call of the tale preserved in the pages.

A warning itch tickled his scalp and he knew he was no longer alone.

“What interest do you have in that book, monk?” The voice was dry and deep, one used to command.

Startled by the proximity of the voice, Shang-Li shoved the book into the bag at his hip and stepped away from the speaker as he turned. By the time the book was gone from his hand, the fighting stick had dropped into place. He kept the weapon hidden.

The man chuckled derisively. “Don’t worry. If I’d wanted you dead, you would have died never knowing you were in danger.”

The light inside the room slowly gained strength as a floating sphere dawned a few feet away. Shang-Li glanced away from the light to save his peripheral vision. More of the room stood revealed. A man’s shape, not ten feet distant from Shang-Li, appeared in the darkness.

The man was at least six feet tall. His dark maroon brocaded robes hugged his bony frame. Dark hair framed a withered face scarred by the pox. His nose was prominent between his close-set sunken eyes. He carried a staff with a purple stone at the tip.

“You’re good, thief, but you didn’t find all my alarms.”

Shang-Li forced himself to remain calm. He felt like he’d locked gazes with a viper. Kouldar’s stare was cold and impersonal. He imagined the room in his mind, estimating the strides it would take to span the distances, the moves he’d have to make, and the cover he could seek. His chances of completing that were so small he didn’t even count them.

Boldly, Kouldar strode toward him. The purple stone at the top of his staff glittered as it caught the light hovering in the air.

Shang-Li said nothing. He took a firmer grip on the book and rolled the pendant chain between his fingers to take up slack.

Kouldar took another step forward and smiled knowingly. “The scribe that was here. He was one of you meddling monks, wasn’t he?”

Instead of answering, Shang-Li drew in his breath and charged his lungs. Breathing is always a part of readiness. The monks at the Standing Tree Monastery had taught him that as far back as he could remember. No matter what you do, no matter the challenges you face, breathing should always be your first concern.

Kouldar trailed fingers along the spines of the books nearest him. “I thought the scribe showed too much interest in some of the books I had him copy. I baited him, but he was very well trained. For a spy.”

“He wasn’t a spy.” Shang-Li shifted slightly, falling into rhythm with the wizard’s movements, prepared to leap in an instant. “He was merely a scribe.”

“But he felt he owed you an allegiance.” Kouldar trailed a covetous hand along a panther-headed statue of a winged woman. “I have studied that book you have in your hand.”

Unconsciously, Shang-Li tightened his grip on the book. No matter what, he wasn’t going to leave the journal behind.

“I suspected there was more to that journal than I perceived.” Kouldar shrugged. “I was hoping to coerce the scribe to tell me all he knew. Without having to kill him or tip my hand that I had knowledge about that book.” He scowled. “Evidently the man’s sense of self-preservation was far stronger than his nerve. If I had known that he belonged to the Standing Tree Monastery as you do, I would have acted differently.”

“I haven’t ever heard of that monastery.”

“Liar.” The wizard raised a hand and spoke a single word.

Heat seared Shang-Li’s forearms. He struggled to keep them at his sides. A moment later, the tattoos on his

forearms glowed bright green and showed through his shirt sleeves. Both forearms held images of mighty oak trees with widespread branches and gnarled roots. Carp swam in a pool beneath the one on the left and a dragon lay curled around the one on the right. The symbols of the Standing Tree Monastery.

“You’re one of those cursed monks. Always so secretive and stingy with your knowledge.” Kouldar paused. “What is in that book that you find so important?”

Shang-Li didn’t bother to lie. The wizard wouldn’t have believed him. Cautiously, Shang-Li slid the fingers of the hand that held the necklace inside the folds of his blouse. The sharp points of the throwing stars held there grazed his fingertips.

“Your insolence doesn’t matter. Neither does your naive resolve.” Kouldar smiled again and the expression held only cruelty. “You will talk before I’m through with you. Every secret you know, every hidden thing you think you know, will be mine for the taking.”

With effort, Shang-Li took a deep breath and throttled the fear threatening to break loose inside him. The naked threat of the wizard’s power hung in the air. He deposited the necklace into the loose folds of his blouse, and slid a half dozen throwing stars into his callused hand. The blouse masked his movements but he couldn’t help feeling the wizard knew about each move he made.

“Now.” Kouldar pointed with his staff. “Give me that book.”

Instead, Shang-Li snapped his wrist and flipped the throwing stars at the wizard. Before they struck their target, Shang-Li dived for the opening at the base of the wall.

Shang-Li rolled to his feet and hurtled forward, racing for the window.

Halfway to his escape, thunder cracked behind him. The wall of books exploded outward. A few of them slammed into Shang-Li. Others littered the floor ahead of him and made footing treacherous. He slipped, caught himself on his hand and fist closed around the sticks, and pushed himself back up.

From the corner of his eye, Shang-Li saw Ravel Kouldar stride through the large, ragged opening that had been torn through the wall with his glowing staff in his hand.

A word ripped through the confusion rumbling through the wizard’s den. The power of the spell blew cold air over Shang-Li and filled him with

vibrating fear. He controlled the fear and kept it distant because he knew it didn’t come from inside him. The emotion was a thing created by Kouldar’s spell.

Something jostled on the room’s ceiling, then dropped to the floor. The dark shadow obscured the window and Shang-Li instinctively turned to one side and bumped against a bristly surface that scratched his exposed skin. His foot slipped on the books and he fell, immediately scrambling to get once more upright.

A monstrous spider lurched toward him, its front legs raised as if reaching for Shang-Li. Taller than a man with several black, beady eyes peering out through the bristle of its hair, the spider twitched its fangs, ichor dripping from them as it sprang forward.

Shang-Li threw himself to one side and narrowly avoided the spider’s legs. They thrust against the floor with power enough to cause small tremors. Enough to crush him.

In the moonlight, the spider’s flesh stood revealed, shiny and pale; it was a golem. A masterwork to be certain— whoever the craftsman had been the spider looked lifelike, complete with striations in its coloring and the bristle of hair. But it was made of heavy clay.

The golem-spider reared again and spun with superhuman speed toward Shang-Li. The forward legs streaked for him once more.

Gambling on his opponent’s strength, Shang-Li leaped, put a hand on top of one of the legs, and vaulted upward. He flipped and his back thudded against the golem-spider’s back. Before the creature could reach him or shift, he shoved himself to his feet and leaped through the window. Unfortunately, the golem-spider chose that moment to stand taller and the added movement threw Shang-Li farther than he’d anticipated.

He sailed across the widow’s walk and headed for the long drop to the alley below. Frantically, he managed to catch the railing with one hand. His stopped his fall but

felt his shoulder briefly separate and snap back in place. Pain flooded his senses and he nearly blacked out.

When he blinked his eyes, he realized he dangled from the balcony railing and faced the wizard’s room. He cast his senses for Moonwhisper and found the owl perched on a nearby building. The bird fell forward and his wings unfurled to seize the night.

Shang-Li felt a moment of relief at the promise of help, but his hopes quickly fled. The golem-spider would destroy the owl if it landed a blow. Desperately, feeling the muscles in his arm quivering under the strain of holding his body despite his training, Shang-Li turned his attention to his survival.

The widow’s walk quivered as the ponderous weight of the golem-spider trod upon it. The creature’s legs curled over the railing and felt for prey.

Shang-Li reached into his bag and took out the padded grappling hook. He didn’t trust his ability to make the cast back to the building he’d come from. Instead, he shook out the line and aimed for the gargoyle almost ten feet away.

The cast flew true and Shang-Li hauled the line to take up slack.

One of the spider’s legs brushed against the back of Shang-Li’s hand as he drew the rope tight. Immediately, the widow’s walk shivered as the golem-spider eagerly changed positions. It leaned over the railing to peer down at him.

The golem-spider’s fangs flashed as they worked in anticipation. It leaned over the railing and lunged for him.

Shang-Li released the railing and took up slack on the rope. For a moment, he dropped, then he reached the end of the line and swung like a pendulum under the gargoyle. The stone statue shifted a little with a low grinding sound.

He smashed against the rough surface of the tower wall. Warm blood spilled down his cheek and the burning pain proved too sharp to completely ignore.

The gargoyle shifted again, and this time rock fragments

pelted Shang-Li as he swung under it. He searched for another safe haven and spotted a second gargoyle farther down, sticking out over the meandering river.

Back at the widow’s walk, the golem-spider rose on four legs and propelled itself toward him.

Shang-Li knew there was no chance the gargoyle would withstand the golem-spider’s additional weight. As lithely as the thing moved, the wizard’s guardian was still massive. When Shang-Li swung back under the gargoyle, he arched his body high and threw himself forward.

The golem-spider landed on top of the gargoyle and the structure tore free of the tower. Shang-Li landed atop the next gargoyle and struggled for his balance.

Skittering noises behind him drew his attention. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he glanced down.

The golem-spider crept along the surface of the tower as easily as a true arachnid would, moving swiftly toward Shang-Li.

The distance to the alley floor was somewhere near thirty feet. A fair chance he’d turn an ankle in the fall. With the spider hot on his heels, that wasn’t a plan for a hopeful future.

Desperate, Shang-Li ran his fingers along the stone. He found enough crevices to grab a tenacious hold. His hands sent bright, blazing messages of agony to his brain as his fingertips took his weight. As quickly as he could, he clambered down the side of the tower.

The golem-spider closed on Shang-Li rapidly. He gazed up into the golem-spider’s multitude of eyes and reached into his blouse for more throwing stars. A deft flip of his wrist sent the sharp blades spinning into the creature’s face. All of them bounced from the golem-spider’s hide without doing any damage. It relentlessly continued to gain on him.

“Shang-Li.”

He recognized his father’s voice at once and snapped his head around. His father stood in the middle of a small

transport boat along the river’s edge. He held a pole in his hands.

“Shang-Li. Here” His father waved him toward the boat.

Shang-Li reached inside his blouse and took out the journal. “Meet me at the ship.”

A grimace of displeasure tightened his father’s face, but worry showed there as well.

Quickly, Shang-Li looked up at the widow’s walk. There was no sign of the wizard, but light neared the edge. He held the journal up briefly so his father could see it, then he tossed it down and across the thirty feet of intervening distance. The cords around the journal kept it closed as it sailed. His father plucked the journal from the air.