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.
CHAPTER FOUR
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.
