Chapter 38. The Meeting of the Guilds

riel woke soon after dawn to the stirrings of the compound.  The shadows of people flitting outside of the paper screen and the low murmurs of rushing servants indicated something was afoot.  She draped a light cotton robe emblazoned with cranes and blossoms over her shoulders and edged toward the doorway, cracking the screen open.  A new guard stood outside now, perched upon the steps that led down into the perfectly manicured courtyard.  The place was undergoing a massive cleaning and decorating as red festival lanterns were hung from the low branches of the old trees and rafters.

The guard glanced back at her when she opened the screen wider and thrust her head outside, gazing upon the stream of guild members striding past in their polished armor and bright red cloaks emblazoned with an elaborate flower and dagger motif.  Many of the members she had never seen before and she was surprised how many were of Tyrian blood.  She was about to go back inside when a servant approached the door with a tray of tea and some variation on rice gruel.  Despite Uriel’s efforts, the woman would not yield the tray until it was laid on the low ornamental table against the far wall.

“What is happening?” Uriel asked before the woman departed.

“Guild meeting,” she said simply, “Crystal Palm comes at noon.”

Then she was gone, leaving Uriel to ponder the meaning of her words.  Why was Dojin Matabe’s illustrious guild coming here?  For what purpose?  She thought back on Zhou and the kindly old man, recalling that they had detected her fear and offered to help her.  Could they be coming on her behalf?

She paced restlessly, noticing that Lemony had hardly moved from where she had lain when Uriel had guided her to bed and drawn the blankets over her.  In sleep she was at peace but her features were no longer rounded and childlike.  She was gaunt and frail looking.  Uriel frowned and sat beside the table, eating her breakfast before it grew cold.  With any luck, the guild would be tied up with their business for a time, allowing her friend to sleep for another hour or two.

Kiku had provided her with paper, calligraphy brushes and ink tablets to amuse herself during the long hours she was idle.  Pouring a cup of tea for herself, she spread out a sheet of creamy paper and made awkward splatters and doodles with the fine brushes, amused when one of them bled and blossomed into the shape of a crude tree.  Losing herself in the play of water and ink, she did not notice Lemony rising to stand beside her and appraise her crude artwork.

“That looks like a cat,” the monk said thoughtfully, “Which end is its head?”

“Good morning, Lem,” Uriel laughed, startled, “I’ll send for some fresh food for you.”

“Thank you,” Lemony said, sinking to the floor beside her as Uriel took to her feet and slid the door aside, seeking for a servant and finding only the guard.  Outside their little room the air was thick with the toothsome odors of roasting meat.  A feast was being prepared. 

“Could I get some breakfast for my friend?” Uriel asked and the guard looked foolishly at her, clearly not understanding a word she said.  Sighing, Uriel opened the door wider, letting fresh light and air into their room since both of them were fully clad in their brightly colored robes.  Lemony was currently devouring the cold rice gruel with one hand while she doodled animatedly with a sloppy brush full of ink.  It cheered Uriel to see her friend partially restored.  She sat down beside the little monk and shrugged.

“I don’t speak Canthan and our guard doesn’t speak Tyrian, so I don’t think there’s any food in the offing.”

“This is good enough,” Lemony replied, tilting her head back to finish her meal so that she could give her full attention to playing with the ink, “Fun, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Where did you put Pendaran’s things?”

Uriel rose and went to Lemony’s bedside, pulling the dirty purple lump of cloth from under the monk’s mattress.  She sat down and laid it beside her hand.

“Open it, it’s interesting what he kept in his pockets.”

Uriel gingerly released the crude knot in the kerchief, realizing the mesmer had probably blown his nose with it at some point.  Monks tended not to be very squeamish about such things, particularly not Lemony.  Disgusted, she let the cloth fall aside and gazed upon its contents.

“What do you suppose that key opens?” Lemony asked, “It’s an odd shape.”

Uriel fingered it, noting that it was shaped faintly like a dolphin’s tail, forged of brass and patterned with knot work.  Instead of teeth at its narrow tubular end it was hollow.  She racked her brain, knowing she had seen one before somewhere.

“Harp key,” she muttered, “It’s not to anything.”

Lemony frowned, her open face betraying her disappointment.  She was not overly materialistic but she did take delight in opening chests even if the contents disappointed her.

“This looks like a signet ring, although I’m not sure what kind.  I am only passingly familiar with a mesmer’s art.”

“Hex eater,” Lemony said, “I used it on the way back here, but I had to take it off.  I think Twisted Lu was onto me.  Pen must have big fingers, it kept dropping off.”

Lemony seized the coin and flipped it cheerfully.

“He IS going to teach me how to make it knuckle walk.”

Uriel smirked, realizing how much she had missed Lemony’s unflappable optimism.  The little monk then gathered up her little treasure trove and tied it up inside the kerchief before tucking back under her bed.

“I think they’re going to pretty us up before Crystal Palm shows up,” Lemony said, rinsing off the brush in the remainder of the tea in the pot, “They’re scared of them.  At least Twisted Lu and Mai Ling were.”

“They are very wealthy and well regarded,” Uriel replied, “Their leader was a dear friend of Master Tasos.  I never realized he had such powerful connections in Cantha.”

“The truly talented and powerful have no need to boast,” Lemony replied, “Tasos was a great man in his day.  And who knows how much he traveled in his youth and who he might have known?”

“Well, of course.  I was always in awe of him,” Uriel replied, realizing with sadness that she was beginning to think of the kind old man in the past tense.  He had retired to Serenity Temple when his health had taken a turn for the worse.  It was quite possible he was already dead.  She suspected the Searing had finished him off for he could not hide his grief at the destruction of Nolani.

“He told me he thought of you as the daughter he’d never had,” Lemony said sweetly, “After that incident in Orr he was beside himself with guilt and grief.”

“Why do people tell you these things?  He always seemed so mysterious and tight-lipped around me.  I had no idea he was babbling on about me behind my back.  He always had my nose pointed toward a musty old book.”

“Probably he wanted to preserve you from the follies of pride,” Lemony replied, shrugging, “and I guess I just listen.  He knew about you and Morisedd, too.”

Uriel blushed.

“I think it amused him that you two thought you were being so clever hiding it from him.”

They fell silent as the footfalls of approaching servants entered their chamber.  Rising in silence, they were led away, as Lemony had correctly guessed, to be cleansed and attired for the arrival of guests.  Uriel’s ebon tresses were combed, braided and arranged in a spray of gold and mother of pearl, her winsome form bedecked in a rich robe of watered silk patterned with flowers that glowed against her dusky complexion.  Lemony was attired in shin-length pantaloons and a loose jacket of unbleached linen patterned with mysterious sigils, humble as befit her status as a monk.  Lastly, each of them was graced with a crimson cape bearing the intricate lotus of the guild.

When they were transformed to the satisfaction of the servants, they were guided to the greatest of the compound’s many halls, a stunning court that gleamed with gold and red, its tiled floor polished to a high sheen so that it reflected the shimmering light of the lanterns and mosaics that graced the walls.  Dragons and phoenix curled and entwined upon the walls, each scale and feather the brilliant hues of the ceramic tiles that formed them.  Draped over each wall was an enormous depiction of the guild’s emblem upon flowing gonfalons of crimson silk.

Long tables stood ready for a mighty feast in three rows with a higher table arrayed at the back of the hall upon a dais.  Two elaborately carved chairs gleaming with gilt-work were at its center so that those who sat there could look down upon the lower tables. Two lesser chairs were placed at either side, no doubt for two members of each guild leader’s retinue.  Lining the walls were a score of guards in sparkling black brigandine tied with shimmering red silk, their faces concealed behind sneering faceplates of gold, their long swords tied with elaborate gold cords so that they could not be drawn in haste as a sign of peace and honor to their guests.  Everything was perfectly set to portray the overwhelming might of the Red Lotus Clan for each member of the guild was clad in their finest armor, their warriors carrying one prized weapon openly but tied with an elaborate ceremonial knot.

Uriel was seated at the head of the center table, aware that Kiku gazed down upon her from her perch at the upper table.  The assassin was a vision of gleaming purple and gold silk, her lustrous black hair gathered into a sleek spray of gold and ivory.  Her pale flesh gleamed, emphasizing her red pursed lips and the lovely curve of her dark eyes.  Tonight she was not an assassin, she was a queen and this was her court.  At her left stood a tall mesmer in a long blue frock coat ornamented with gold brocade and seed pearls.  He was a Tyrian by birth, his flesh dusky and his neatly cropped hair the luster of raven feathers.  Occasionally he bent to whisper in Kiku’s ear or listen as she spoke quietly to him while her eyes scanned the wide chamber in anticipation of their guests.  Beside him stood an assassin in full armor, masked and menacing, the only openly armed and prepared member of the court.

Uriel’s heart leaped into her throat and Lemony startled as drums were beaten and the long shimmering knell of a gong broke the tense silence.  In haste, those who had been variously milling about and conferring quietly took up their places at the table, standing behind the floor pillows that marked their seats.  Following their example, she and Lemony rose, standing in the same attentive pose facing the wide entrance as the procession of the Crystal Palm drew into view.

She was stunned by the shimmering white banners with their iridescent patterns so like the crystals that graced Glint’s magnificent cave. An open palm was depicted at the center of the field of white and it danced with rainbow hues as each tall gonfalon was born along the sides of the procession, twelve in all.  Five score fighting members of the guild walked calmly at the center of the procession, their weapons, staves and wands tied or kept against their backs to indicate restrained puissance.  A row of warriors in shimmering silver armor entered behind Master Dojin Matabe.  The old man was clad in a flowing white gown decorated with entwined dragons depicted in shimmering gold thread.  In one hand he clutched a fiery staff, his arthritic hands knotted over its embroidered wrapping while Zhou stood at his left, bearing the old man’s weight upon his shoulder without complaint, his expression hidden behind his ornate mask.  At Dojin’s right strode a masked assassin, her strides graceful and rippling with the controlled strength of a hunting cat.  Her black hair was drawn back in a gold entwined plait and her silvery armor was embellished with pearlescent dragons.  And, similar to Kiku’s personal guard, her weapons were not restrained but arrayed boldly over her form.

Walking in perfect step, the procession unfolded, finding their places at the low tables as Dojin and his private retinue went to the dais. Kiku stood beside him before her chair.  Silence fell over the hall as the standard bearers took up their places around the edges of the room, their pale gonfalons alternating with the bloody emblems of the Red Lotus Clan.

“I think the Crystal Palm would win,” Lemony whispered, eying the warriors that were now standing opposite them in their richly engraved armor.  Uriel shushed her, aware that the men were staring at the monk and one of them had the faintest hint of a bemused grin tickling the corner of his otherwise solemn visage.  Lemony, however, was renowned for stating the obvious.  The Red Lotus Clan, while mighty, was still outnumbered and had not the balance of fighting men and women to swell its ranks.  No doubt they would take a few of the Crystal Palm with them should a fight occur, but ultimately they would be defeated.

Kiku spoke in Canthan, her voice sweet and melodic as she began the formalities.  When she was done speaking, the mesmer behind her translated, his voice equally pleasant.

“Most illustrious and honored guests, Guild Leader Kiku Hidetori of the Red Lotus Clan welcomes you to our humble hall in peace and fellowship.  Let all bitterness be laid aside to celebrate the greatness of our combined guilds.”

Dojin spoke then, and despite his advanced age, his voice was strong, filling the great chamber.  He addressed the assembly in Canthan, also, then fell silent as Zhou stepped forward to translate.

“Guild Leader Dojin Matabe of the Order of the Crystal Palm is honored to receive your generous offer and humbly accepts.  Let there be no ill words nor acts of deception this night as our combined guilds celebrate as one.”

The tension in the room visibly diminished as the two guild leaders took their seats, their assassins sitting attentively at each end of the table and their mesmers beside them.  Uriel blushed as she met Zhou’s gaze and felt him tasting her emotions as effortlessly as breathing.

“Give us one reason and we will take you away from here,” he said into her mind.  Lemony’s cheeks were also rosy with emotion and clearly he had reached out to her as well.  She wondered if the monk’s training in the arts of a mesmer enabled her to respond.  Later she would ask.  For now, she was distracted as she took her seat and servants approached to pour them rice wine and deliver small plates of elaborate food.  Lemony smiled happily, seeming to recognize the morsel that had been laid before her.

“Squid!” she chuckled, “I haven’t had this since I was a girl.”

Uriel looked dismayed as she gazed upon the lump of rice with far too many legs.  Fortunately, Lemony needed no encouragement to take it from her.  On the whole, however, the food was amazing and she quickly learned not to ask what it was before partaking of it.

At the upper table, Kiku and Dojin were deep in conversation and it was impossible to read their expressions.  At some point a familiar ledger was placed before the old man and he read it over, his inscrutable face momentarily revealing his disappointment.

“Everything runs by paperwork here,” Lemony said, following Uriel’s gaze, “Those contracts we signed were binding.”

“What did you read?”

“We are members of this guild of our own free will and indebted to perform services as such time as that debt is paid off.  Each band must be removed when the value of services rendered is estimated to equal twenty platinum bars or the Guild Leader or the officers of the guild may establish a rate not to exceed 20 bars of platinum. If at any time this contract is violated, it is deemed null and void, the debt repaid or the below signed removed from the guild.”

No wonder Kiku had been furious with Nitaje.  He had cheated the contract by under representing the value of Uriel’s services.  She touched the bangles upon her arms, knowing that Kiku’s actions and discretion had preserved the deal for she had been generous in rewarding Uriel before the contract could be brought into debate.

“So there is no reason for the Crystal Palm to challenge our fate?”

“None.  Short of murder.  But the problem is I doubt they kept a record of Pendaran.  No record or body, no crime.  We could tell them, I suppose, but this may not be the time.”

Uriel noticed that Lemony only spoke when she was certain she would not be overheard.  She was afraid.

“Can’t you tell Zhou?”

“It takes a very powerful mesmer to reach into the minds of others and I’m just a dabbler.  If I try sending a message to him, the other mesmer could easily pick it up.  If we are too obvious, it’ll alert Kiku’s people and we’ll never find Pendaran.  Zhou is busy, too.”

Uriel gazed up at him.  He appeared attentive and relaxed, his hands folded behind his back as he stood at Dojin’s left shoulder in his shimmering red attire.

“He doesn’t look busy.”

“Never underestimate a mesmer, especially when they haven’t taken the time to eat or drink at a party,” Lemony said mysteriously, “If the Red Lotus Clan is planning anything deceitful, he’ll know about it long before anyone draws a weapon to strike his master.”

“Is that what the mesmer at Kiku’s shoulder is for?”

Lemony shrugged.

“She’s taunting the old man by imitating his retinue.  Everyone around here knows Bei Zhou An is someone you don’t cross.”

Uriel blinked at her friend, shocked.

“How do you know that?”

“Everyone is muttering about it, particularly the Red Lotus.  In Canthan of course.  And the Crystal Palm are annoyed that the Lotus are mocking Bei and Feng by putting an assassin and mesmer of such low regard at the same table.  I’m amazed Kiku is being so bold given how quickly the Crystal Palm could dismantle their guild.”

“She must feel confident they have no reason to attack.”

“None at all.  We signed those contracts and unless someone can show they were unjustly forced upon us, they’re legitimate.”

“But they were forced upon us.”

“The signatures are ours.  No one forged them.”

Uriel’s jaw dropped.

“But we were coerced.”

“Prove it.  We weren’t brought here in chains from the boat, we came here freely.  Putting a bag over someone’s head to hide the location of your guild hall doesn’t count, either.  Around here where guilds see each other as part of a food chain, it’s just common sense.”

“But it’s a lie,” Uriel moaned and she looked up, feeling Zhou’s eyes upon her.

“We have no reason to strike.  You are on your own now.”

“But there is a reason!” she thought angrily, hoping he could hear her.  If he did, he made no sign of it and only continued to scan the chamber with an air of casual disinterest.

“It’s a bit of a stale mate,” Lemony observed, still whispering between careful glances at the people at their table, “Kiku knows that if we are released, we’ll talk about Pendaran, but if she doesn’t keep the contract, we’ll be released.  And if we let on we know about Pendaran, she’ll make sure he’s never found.  I doubt Twisted Lu and Mai Ling will admit they blabbed about it to me, though.  She’d probably snap their necks.”

“What do you think she’ll do, then?”

Lemony shrugged.

“If I were her, keep us comfortable and confined.  If we can’t work off our debt, we won’t be freed.  I guess it could be worse.  The bath is nice, too.”

Uriel sighed, rolling her eyes at Lemony.