Chapter 24. Terms of Servitude

Uriel awakened from a troubled dream to Lemony’s tuneless humming.  The little monk hugged herself with her back pressed against the paneled wall rocking slowly for reassurance.  Her gentle face was pinched with grief and fear.  Light filtered gently through the paper walls on one side of their dim room. The silhouettes of a pair of guards reminded Uriel that they were still regarded as captives until the finalization of the terms of indentured servitude.

“Are you alright, Lem?”

“I heard Pendaran screaming,” Lemony whispered, “It stopped at midnight.”

Uriel was not surprised by her words.  It was not a question of liking Pendaran, Lemony simply felt responsible for those around her.  It probably did not help matters that the monk had barely slept or eaten since they left Tyria.  She looked gaunt, and though the guild had been diligent about providing them with food and fresh water during the day, she had remained withdrawn and Uriel had not once witnessed her partaking of it.

“Get some sleep, my friend,” Uriel suggested, “You have had a very trying journey.”

“But they were hurting him,” she said wearily, her strained visage marked with grief.

Uriel rose and went to Lemony’s side, observing that the monk had done nothing to unroll the long cushion and down quilt that had been provided for her bed.  She had only seen her friend in such a wretched state once before.  She laid out the cushion and the square bolster that served as a pillow, then patted it demonstratively.

“Lay down,” she said with a faint tone of command.

“Can’t sleep, not now,” Lemony protested sadly, yet her body obeyed and she lay on her back beside Uriel, shivering.  Uriel slipped off Lemony’s course sandals, noting that her feet were cold, as were her hands.  How long had she been sitting there like that?  Frowning, she drew each blanket in place, reserving the plump down comforter for last.  Lemony gazed up at her through tears.

“He suffered so much,” she whispered.

“I know, Lem, but and there’s nothing you could have done about it.”

Uriel clasped the monk’s hand under the blankets and was gratified when Lemony squeezed her fingers and visibly relaxed.  The shivering stopped.

“Sleep now, you’ll feel better.  Tomorrow we’ll get some food in you, too.”

“I’ve missed you,” Lemony replied, her heavy eyes fluttering closed, “I’m glad the curse is gone.”

Lemony grew silent and her tense visage softened until a little of her childlike appearance returned in sleep.  Uriel swept a maternal hand over her brow, feeling the downy growth of hair where the monk had once been fastidiously shaved bald.  She stayed beside her friend until the guard changed and the small busy sounds that presaged the arrival of morning filtered through the thin walls of their little shared room. 

Uriel was startled awake for she had dozed off with her chin nodding toward her chest.  The paper wall was pushed aside and a tray bearing two steaming bowls of milky rice and a round stout pot of tea with who small cups was pushed across the floor toward her.  She was tempted to let Lemony continue sleeping but decided the little monk needed sustenance and they were seldom given more than an hour to finish whatever appeared on the tray.  She untangled herself from Lemony’s now limp grasp and retrieved the tray, setting it down beside the monk’s head.  Pouring tea, she hoped the sweet smelling rice gruel would draw Lemony awake.  Uriel tasted it cautiously and decided it was bland if nothing else, perfect for someone in Lemony’s state.

“Lem,” she said softly, careful to rock Lemony’s shoulder until her eyes fluttered open and she gazed blearily up at Uriel., “Breakfast is here.”

“Not hungry,” Lemony moaned and rolled over, showing Uriel her back.

“I don’t care, you’re eating it.”

“No,” Lemony moaned in protest.

Uriel felt suddenly angry at the monk’s stubbornness.

“Please don’t make yourself sick, Lem, I need you now.  I have no one else left to call my friend and if I end up here alone I shall go mad.”

“I’m sorry, Uriel,” Lemony replied, rolling back over to face her, “My stomach is tied in knots. I’m not sure I can hold any food down.”

“Try for me?”

Lemony sat up and took several small swallows of the tea and rice gruel.  They ate in silence, watching the door.  Uriel was grateful when Lemony set down an empty bowl and took more tea.  Already she looked much restored.

“Thank you for staying beside me while I slept,” Lemony said, “I do feel better.  You were right.”

“Having you with me makes this waking hell bearable,” Uriel said with a sardonic grin.

They both fell silent as the door was pushed aside and the guards entered.  It was time to discover their fate at the hands of Kiku.  Rising stiffly, they walked on ahead of the guards, guided deeper into the complex across blossoming courtyards and long galleries.  The might and wealth of the Red Lotus Clan was abundantly obvious for the place was well guarded and lavishly appointed.  At last they were ushered into a small stark room.  Its wooden floor gleamed as if freshly polished and a single thin mat lay at its center where Kiku and a strange tattooed figure knelt.  There was a brass brazier sitting between them, its squat three-legged shape entwined with dragons and a fragrant smoke rose from their upturned snouts. Behind them was a large cedar chest, its purpose and contents unknown.

The tattooed figure was clad in black and wore a strange head wrap adorned with cascades of gleaming metal beads and charms that concealed half of his face.  His lower jaw was set at a grim angle, and as she and Lemony approached to kneel before them, Uriel’s skin pricked with a sensation of otherworldly scrutiny as the blinded figure raised his chin toward her. 

No longer in her wedding dress, Kiku was clad in form-fitting attire, black and dour for one so pretty and graceful.  She had a ledger book scrawled with foreign glyphs open before her.  A small stone palette lay beside it, a cake of ink already damp and a calligraphy brush upon it.  She picked up the brush and loaded it with ink, then turned the book toward Uriel.

“Sign the terms of your servitude,” the woman commanded.

“But how long is it?” Uriel asked, “I don’t know how to read these glyphs.”

“You are in no position to bargain.  Sign now.”

Uriel swallowed and awkwardly signed her name with the unfamiliar brush. She then passed it to Lemony and the monk lightly swept a strange symbol at the bottom of a row of figures, her eyes scanning the document in a way that suggested she knew full well what it said.  Kiku turned the book around and looked upon the signatures, then set it aside to dry.

“And now you shall be given your bonds.  As you fulfill the terms of your contract, they shall be removed.  When all of them are gone, you are free.  Until then, they will mark you as servants of this household and the penalty for attempting to flee will be harsh.  Further, Lu is capable of using them to track you and summon you back to me.  In short, there is no point in trying to avoid your obligations, do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” Uriel replied and Lemony nodded.

“Hold out your left hand so that Lu can begin.”

Uriel did so and felt a strange jolt of cold as the ritualist took her hand and drew her arm toward him.  His fingers and wrists were darkened with a whorl of tattoos and his grasp was like a vise, firm and unyielding.  His lips moved and he began an invocation, the air growing cold around them as he chanted.  She tugged away involuntarily as a ghostly shape emerged from the smoking brazier, thin and twisted as it pulsed toward her exposed arm and begin to entwine itself around her wrist.  The ritualist guided it with a sparkling amber wand, never releasing her as he made small circular motions, each twist adding another ring of seething smoke.

As each ring wrapped around her wrist it solidified and became a thin golden bangle etched with red cloisonné that bore more of the strange glyphs, no doubt a mark of the Red Lotus Clan.  Uriel looked on in mute horror as the number of glistening bands increased, creeping inexorably up her arm until there were fifty and their weight pressed over her now obscured flesh.  Lu paused in his slow work and gestured for her other arm which received an equal amount.  One hundred of them now clinked and rustled softly around her wrists.

Kiku gestured her to sit aside so that Lemony could be similarly bonded.  Tears flowed silently down the monk’s gentle visage as she watched the process, but she never breathed a word of protest or remorse.  Uriel knew then that Lemony had been able to read the contract and was grieving the loss of her future.

When at last it was over, the two of them knelt before Kiku as the assassin rose and opened the chest.  One at a time she returned the items stripped away at the time of their capture in the mountains. Uriel donned her fiery diadem and clutched her elementalist robes to her breast.  A leather satchel marked with the emblem of the now destroyed Nolani Academy was placed before her knees.

“That delivery shall be your first order of business. You will take it to Dojin Matabe of the Crystal Palm as you promised your master and return with the reward as the first installment toward your freedom.  From now on, you will answer to Nitaje for I have assigned you to him.  As for you,” she turned her dark gaze upon Lemony, “Since you speak Canthan, you will serve Lu and go where he directs you.”

Kiku rose, gesturing for Uriel to follow while the ritualist barked foreign words at Lemony and the monk put her possessions aside and went forth to bow before Lu, her forehead pressed to the floor before his knees.