Chapter 9. An Urgent Plea

wish I could tumble like that,” Sister Lemony announced out of the blue, drawing Uriel from her awkward conversation with a stranger.  Lemony smiled at the young Canthan as he stood there looking flustered in his fine livery of layered robes stamped with cranes.  She was, of course, referring to a trio of street performers who were currently bounding together as a trio, perfectly matched and graceful as deer.

“I’ve seen you tumble like that,” Uriel muttered, annoyed at the interruption, “Usually right after an Oni shows up.”

“Who’s he?” Lemony asked, gesturing to the man.

“A messenger.  I need you to translate, please.  And focus, this time.  I don’t want to hear any nonsense.”

These days, Uriel was often grumpy.  She was getting the run around with her plans to build an academy.  No one in Tyria was interested and there was no appropriate land in any event.  Cantha, however, seemed open to the idea so long as she was willing to move a mountain of paperwork.  And only after an assortment of fortune tellers and specialists decided it was auspicious.   So far, before Uriel could continue her quest, she had to obtain the willing tears of a sorrowful song.  At least, that is what Lemony had translated in her discussion with the Imperial Augur.

It did not help matters that Murdi refused to stay in the city for more than a week.  He would never admit it, of course, but he became restless as a caged animal while dwelling within the confines of Cantha’s mighty walls.  Uriel missed him terribly, her evenings often filled with chatter about her longings and plans once the soil was broken on her ambitious project.

Lemony tried to be a good friend.  Honestly she did.  She nodded cheerfully at Uriel and turned to the man, clearing her throat.

“Greetings (respectful) man with funny girl dress,” Lemony said, wondering why the Canthan’s dark eyes gleamed with annoyance, “My sister porpoise, Uriel, of flavorful magic, bids me untangle your words.”

“I bear a message from Master Bei Zhou An of the Most Honorable Order of the Crystal Palm,” the man replied stiffly, carefully enunciating each word, “Your presence is urgently requested at the compound in Wajjun Bazaar.”

“Oh, this one is easy,” Lemony said, smiling at Uriel, “Zhou has invited us over for dinner.”

“Are you sure about that?  I doubt Zhou would pay someone to chase us around just to invite us to dinner.”

Lemony waved cheerfully at the messenger as the man stormed off.  How odd of him to stand there holding out his palm.  She had no idea how to tell fortunes that way.

“I think we were supposed to tip him,” Uriel mused, “Is that traditional?”

“I guess I could have tipped him off about that dumpling place.  I wonder if Zhou will feed us squid?  I love squid.”

Uriel rolled her eyes, nudging Lemony gently on the shoulder as she moved toward the southern end of Kaineng City Center. 

“You know, you’re insufferable sometimes.”

“What?”

Uriel sighed and laughed.

“I should learn Canthan just so I can eavesdrop on you.  I wish I knew why that man looked so put out after you talked to him.”

Lemony heard Uriel sigh behind her as she stopped at the stall of a flower seller and bought a bright bouquet of pink peonies and midnight blue delphiniums for Shikai.

“They’ve got a big garden, you know,” Uriel pointed out, irritated by the delays.

“Shikai needs flowers,” Lemony replied, “I like her better when she isn’t wearing that headdress and she’ll take it off to look at them.”

What she did not say was that ever since Twisted Lu she had an unnatural fear of ritualists.  Just thinking about them made her ears hurt.  Not to mention, the contents of his cedar chest were permanently emblazoned upon her mind.  Thank Grenth he was dead and gone.  She only wished she could have been around to kick Kiku’s corpse after Pendaran did her in.

She missed Pendaran.  And Murdi.  And Brigit.  And Teleri.

And Nandao.  She really missed Nandao.  She already had a pack full of little gifts for him.  There was a new set of majong tiles in a tooled leather box which she loved to stack up and listen to as they clacked in her hand.  There was a cricket in a tiny golden cage that she liked to put beside her head at night so it could sing her to sleep.  Her favorite gift, however, was a little set of stacking dolls that she had purchased from a Kurzick toy maker.  One of them reminded her of him, all round and mischievous with bright red tattoos.

“Lemony, where are you going?”

She smiled mildly at Uriel as she realized she had been daydreaming again.  They trotted down the narrow street with its rows of market tables.  Oh what a beautiful kite.  She stopped to stare at the gorgeous thing hanging over the vendor’s table.  It was in a shape of a serpentine dragon, long and splendid, fashioned of scarlet and gold silk.  She imagined Mabane playing with it in the field beyond the encampment.

“I liked it better when you were broke,” Uriel complained, refusing to take the bouquets of flowers from Lemony’s hands and thus preventing her from dipping into her coin pouch, “Honestly, we can’t carry all of Cantha home.  And we’ve got to get to the Crystal Palm compound.  You can buy the kite another day.”

“But it’s so pretty,” Lemony protested, “Don’t you think Teleri’s boy would love that?”

“I’m through with this discussion,” Uriel complained, “Follow, now.”

She trotted after the slender elementalist, admiring the way she had bound her lustrous black hair up into a regal crown.  Uriel never walked when gliding would do, she was the image of grace as she strode forth, her fiery staff in hand.  Lemony allowed Uriel her grumpiness, there was a certain fondness about it and it amused her.  It was good to see some spirit and laughter return to her dear old friend after so many years of sadness.

When at last they reached the rounded gate of the compound, Kazuma was awaiting them.  The necromancer bowed deeply, his scarred visage made less harsh by a faint smile.  Lemony blushed when she realized she was staring at his lone blue eye with its hideous scar.  He looked tired, as well.

“How is Zhou?” Uriel asked, failing to hide her concern.

“This way, please,” Kazuma said quietly, “We have been waiting.”

“We came as soon as we could.  When was the courier sent to look for us?”

“Two days ago.  Did he indicate there was urgency?” Kazuma asked, anger bleeding into his voice.

Lemony blushed.  Well, maybe she had gotten the translation wrong after all.  Zhou had suggested she find a mentor to help improve her Canthan, but between keeping Uriel company and having fun, she just had not gotten around to it.  She felt Uriel’s dark gaze upon her, noting that the woman’s dusky skin had flushed a deeper tone of red.

They wound through a courtyard and then a long arbor that was clothed in yellowing leaves as autumn closed in.  At last they entered the greatest of the buildings near the center of the compound.  Kazuma hurried them up a flight of stairs and then down a warm wood-paneled corridor.  He tapped on a double door and did not open it until a woman’s voice answered him.

They entered a small drawing room festooned with plump burgundy couches and pillows surrounding a low ebon and ivory inlaid table.  The remains of a small meal lay at its center along with a teapot empty of all but its damp clump of leaves.  The walls were decorated with an odd assortment of artwork and tools that Lemony did not recognize but fancied were used by those trained in mystical arts.  The eastern wall was graced with a long bank of windows that gazed down over the garden and the warm light poured through them.

Lemony was just about to take a seat but was instead guided toward a neighboring room, an overwhelming smell of camphor, blood, and resin cloying the air.  Blinking through the smoke, Lemony was shocked to see two figures lying at the center of a sumptuous bed.  Shikai was pressed against the padded headboard while Zhou was cradled in her arms, his gaunt form trembling.

There was a chained spirit at the foot of the bed and it moaned softly as she passed it, the flowers dropping from her arms.  Wordlessly she crawled onto the bed beside them and probed Zhou’s face.  He was bathed in cold sweat, his bare chest barely rising and falling as he drew breath.

“Our own healers can’t reach him,” Shikai said softly, her beaded headdress rustling as she turned her blinded visage toward Lemony, “We thought perhaps if someone who knows Pendaran were here…”

Lemony touched the silver cord that was tied around Zhou’s waist, anchoring him to Shikai.  He was blindfolded.  Instinctively, Lemony touched his cheek.

“Pen?  You there?”

“Don’t want to go back,” Zhou whimpered, “Hurts so bad. Don’t make me go back.”

“Aw, Pen, I’m sorry, my darling.”

“Lemony?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re in Cantha, but you can’t stay here.  Zhou needs his body back.  You’re killing him.”

“Oh.”

“You go back home now,” Lemony said evenly, “I’m sure Teleri is sick with fear by now.  And your body won’t heal if you aren’t in it.”

“It hurts.”

“I know, but pain doesn’t last forever, does it? You go back and heal up.  Let your friends take care of you and tell Nandao I’ll be home soon.”

Zhou shuddered, gasping hoarsely and crying out in pain.  Shikai tightened her grasp, holding him tightly as he thrashed in her grasp, his legs spasming.  And then he grew slack, his head rolling wearily against Shikai’s shoulder until his cheek came to rest against her dusky collar.