Chapter 27. Enlisting the Soul Render

The mandrake concoction wore off at dawn and he awakened in Teleri’s arms to a stabbing pain in his gut and thigh.  Some time in the night he had rolled onto his damaged right side and she was currently spooning him.  He smiled through his pain as he thought of her as a warm ranger cloak draped around his back.  The bulge of her belly was pressed deliciously against the small of his back and to distract himself from the growing throb of his wounds, he sent his mind there, drawing comfort from the tiny swirl of contentment growing in her mother’s womb.

“I love you, little one,” he thought and a radiant glow of delight seeped into his mind, freeing him for a time from his anguish.

“Good morning, Pen,” said Lemony softly as she stumped into the room looking disheveled, her eyes still puffy from sleeping.

“Hello,” he croaked, smiling as her small hands moved gently over his face.  She checked his eyes and the color of his gums.  She was all business for a few moments as she laid two fingers over his throat to feel his pulse.

“Is the pain getting any less?” she asked as she drew back the blankets to examine his dressings.

“It’s getting better, but I don’t want to move.”

“Understandable,” she murmured, then immediately began her prayers, wrapping him in three enchantments and suffusing his body with warm healing energies that drove away the pain.  He relaxed, not realizing until that moment how he had tensed around it.

“Thank you.”

Lemony smiled sweetly at him and bowed.

“Sleep a while longer,” she said, drawing the blankets back over him, “Resting is what is healing you now.  I’ll wake you in a few hours and see about removing those bandages.”

Some time before noon, Lemony returned to draw him from sleep.  Teleri was gone and he cast around for her.  The curtains had been drawn and low autumn sunlight bathed the chamber.  He was comfortable and warm and could have continued to sleep if the little monk had not drawn back the blankets and exposed his flesh to the relative coolness of the room.

“Come on, slugabed,” Lemony said cheerfully, “Time to get up.”

Pendaran sat up with some help from her, his dead right leg annoyingly uncooperative.  The monk examined it closely once it was draped over the side of the bed, checking reflexes and working her way down to his toes.

“Where does sensation stop?” she asked.

“Above the knee,” he replied, placing his hand about mid-thigh, “Here.”

She rose then and retrieved his favorite black cane, placing it in his right hand.

“Get up.”

Pendaran hesitated, then levered himself to his left leg, afraid to put weight on the right.  Pressing down on the handle of the cane, he stood, wobbling slightly as Lemony looked on, her fingers clasping her chin thoughtfully.  She then drew a white silk robe around his shoulders to protect him from the chill

“Walk.  Put some weight on it.”

Gingerly he limped away from the bed, relieved when the pain he expected did not rise up to trouble him.  Perhaps it was her enchantments, but he was cheered by this and made a slow circuit around the room, growing accustomed to using the cane for its most basic purpose.  He found it strangely ironic that his most favored weapon was now a necessary crutch.

Sweat beaded his brow by the time he was back beside the bed.  Lemony helped him turn around so that she could see his posture as he stood before her.  It was then he saw Zhou standing in the doorway watching.

“Good morning, Master.”

The man and proffered a nod, his visage unreadable.

“Will he be ready?”

“If I am with him,” Lemony said, “The enchantments are helping and in two days time he may well be able to walk there.  No kneeling or sitting on the ground, though.”

“Ready for what?” Pendaran asked, mildly alarmed that he had been left out of their discussion about him.

“The imperial guild census.”

“Oh.”

“You are a legally considered a guild member since you have no other affiliation and you dwell here.  I have to present you to the emperor along with the other listed members.”

“The emperor?”

Zhou shrugged.

“It is an annual event.  Generally the guilds present their rosters, file in, take an oath, receive the emperor’s blessing, our charters are extended for another year, then there is a feast, some fireworks and we all go home promising to behave.”

“Let’s have those bandages off,” Lemony announced, apparently deciding Zhou was little more than an annoyance.  She retrieved a pair of shears from the bedside table and began snipping the linens that were wrapped tightly around his waist and hips, apologizing when she had to pull aside his breeches.  Pendaran was now numb to the indignities of being injured and paid her no mind as she drew the last of the bandages away and revealed the scarred wreckage of the wounds.  She ran her hands over them carefully but he could feel nothing more than pressure.

“They’re clean,” she said with a satisfied sigh and Pendaran noticed a smile turned the corner of Zhou’s dour lips, “That means you’re going to improve from here on out.”

“Will I still be crippled?”

Lemony frowned and rose, gazing up at him for the top of her head was barely even with his shoulder.

“Those nerves were severed and they are not likely to grow back now.”

“Well, I’m alive at least.”

Lemony smiled sweetly at him and squeezed his arm apologetically. 

“Can he join us?” Zhou asked and Pendaran had to stifle his smile to think of the illustrious guild leader having to ask Lemony’s permission to take her patient away.

“Yes, if he wants to.  He can nap if he needs to?”

“Of course.  Will you come dine with us, Pendaran?”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Lemony helped him don a loose burgundy caftan and insisted upon making him wear stockings to keep his feet warm.  Afterwards, Zhou encouraged him to drape an arm around his shoulder and the three of them walked the short distance to the small dining room that overlooked the garden.  It was a familiar and comforting place for Pendaran had fond memories of the time he, Zhou and Teleri had spent here over the summer.  As he entered it now his gathered friends rose to their feet and applauded his arrival.

Beaming at them, he was guided to an enormous rattan chair cluttered with pillows and blankets which Lemony fussed over, making him comfortable and covering him up so that he was soon warm and drowsy again as she propped up his legs and his seat was pushed closer to the table.  Teleri clasped his hand beneath the blankets, smiling brightly at him.  It cheered him to find the cloud of grief that had been clinging to her greatly diminished.

Once he was settled, talk turned to the events of the summer.  He caught snatches of Uriel and Lemony’s trials and tribulations as they described the paperwork and bizarre riddles that they must solve to make even the least headway toward building the academy of magic.  Mabane sat across from him, his earnest blue eyes occasionally gazing upon Pendaran to receive a reassuring smile.  It was amusing to note that the boy would not go near Zhou and appeared to regard the man with a mixture of awe and fear.  And Zhou, for his part, did little to engage the boy but gave him room to decide what if any relationship they might have.

Shikai, however, adored Mabane and sat between the boy and her husband.  Pendaran wondered if they had ever had children of their own.  Zhou never talked of his life with Shikai, but he was also an intensely private and reserved man. More so now that he was the leader of a powerful and famous Canthan guild.

Pendaran was nestled between Teleri and Lemony, basking now under the monk’s enchantments.  Kantele sat beside Lemony while Brigit sat across from her picking at her food as Xiang Yi, Kazuma and Mashiro chattered quietly nearby 

He was just about to nod off under the influence of a warm belly full of tea and soup when the shadows around Zhou’s form shifted, evoking an intense jolt of fear in Pendaran.  He cried out involuntarily and nearly fell out of the chair as his body responded by failing to rise and flee.  Cold sweat erupted from his flesh as Feng Ming Xei emerged from the darkness to stand at the guild leader’s side.  Her watchful eyes hardened as she met Pendaran’s terrified gaze and then softened when Zhou asked her to back away.

Kantele was already beside him, her hands pressed gently over his breast as she suffused him with calming energies.  He melted under her touch, the fear falling away as she mended wounds Lemony’s prayers could never touch.  His eyes followed the graceful movements of her hands until his heart stopped hammering in his chest and he felt safe once more.

“He was attacked by assassins,” she murmured as she returned to her seat, “They came at him from the shadows.”

“My apologies,” Ming said quietly, “I came to deliver a message.  There are three strangers wishing entrance to the compound.  One claims he is welcome here, a monk named Brother Nandao.  The others I do not know.  Do you wish me to send them away?”

“Nandao!” Lemony cried in delight and Pendaran joined the laughter of the others.  She beamed at them.

“Invite them within.  I’ll ask the servants to prepare places for them at the table.”

“As you wish, Master,” Ming said sharply, bowing, then gazing upon Pendaran with a respectful nod before turning and walking away.

“She would protect you fiercely should anyone dare to strike you,” Zhou said into his mind, “Do not fear Ming.”

Before Pendaran could respond, however, the room burst into chatter as Nandao, travel worn and shame faced, emerged from the doorway to be instantly pounced upon by Lemony’s giddy embrace.  The burly man and the small graceful woman who were with him seemed a little overwhelmed and merely smiled curtly and bowed in greeting as Lemony fussed over Nandao and dragged him by the arm to the table while announcing to him and any present how glad she was to see him again.  He would not look at Pendaran or Zhou.

“I am Orick Vox of the Blade and Rose, a guild of lore masters and truth seekers,” the man said awkwardly, “I am at your service.”

“Brekke Wilder,” the woman said and Pendaran detected a hint of fear in her voice and a strange shimmer of energies cleaved to her being, “Very pleased to meet you.”

Zhou rose to accept their formalities.

“I am Bei Zhou An, Guild Leader of the Order of the Crystal Palm.  Be welcome as a guest.  Please, dine with us.”

Surprise rippled across Orick’s honest features, but he said nothing as he was seated with Brekke beside Nandao and Lemony.

“Do not fear my wrath, Brother Nandao,” Zhou said when he was sitting at the head of the table once more, “If there is blame to be placed, then it is upon my shoulders, not yours.”

“I should have translated it… I’m so sorry, Pen.  It was horrible.”

“No need to apologize, my friend.  You saved my life.  How can I resent you for that?”

“Your life might not have needed saving if I had not been such an idiot,” Nandao announced bluntly, pushing his grief aside with anger.

“We will never know that for sure,” Zhou replied, “but it is done.  Please, let us not sour this meal with bitter feelings.  We are together now.”

“You are all too kind,” Nandao replied humbly.

“I can be mean to you later if that will make you feel better,” Lemony laughed amid the chuckles of her friends.  Nandao blushed scarlet and hugged her against his side, kissing her lightly upon her temple.  The servants arrived with more bowls of soup and fresh pots of tea and soon the comfortable ambiance of the room was restored.

“Tell me, Loremaster Vox, what brings you to my guild’s door?” Zhou asked.

“It is not for me that I have come, but for Brekke.  However, if you would indulge me, I do have a question for you, Sir.”

“Ask it.”

“Were you once called Soul Render Bei, the Canthan Dragon of Orr?”

Pendaran woke up with a start, for he was beginning to nod off again.  He glanced at Zhou and saw his fists were clenched upon his lap and his face was taut.  The name was familiar, Pendaran was certain he had heard it before somewhere.

“I follow that path no longer.”

“Whatever compelled you to leave Cantha and fight in the Guild War for Orr?  I must say, I have read a great deal about your exploits,” Orick continued airily and it was clear the man did have a great love of lore for his eyes gleamed with excitement, “Were you actually taught by a dragon?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Zhou replied awkwardly, clearly not liking where the conversation was leading.  Orick, however, failed to notice his host’s discomfiture and forged on.

“So is it true that at the Battle of Nine Mirrors you slew…”

“Please, this is not appropriate talk for this table,” Zhou snapped, “You may ask for an audience with me to satisfy your curiosity, but I will not discuss this here.”

Nandao now dared to look upon Zhou and his face was grim.

“I fought against Orr,” Nandao murmured, “You’re right, it is you who should be ashamed.  I should have realized it was you, but then again, no one ever saw the face behind that blood soaked mask.  We always called you the Butcher of Orr.”

“I am not that man, now,” Zhou said coldly and Pendaran felt rage and despair emanating from his master’s form.  Shikai clasped his balled fist, her kohl-rimmed eyes wide with sadness and alarm, “If you have come here on business, please state it and trouble me no more.”

“I apologize,” Orick said, looking genuinely alarmed, “I was inconsiderate.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nandao growled, “Something that stinks that bad deserves a little airing.”

“You are a guest in my guild,” Zhou reminded him, “and I asked you not to discuss this matter.  You may say whatever you wish to me when we are finished here, but not now and not in this room.”

“And not in front of Pen,” Nandao said harshly, “I’m sure that is what really worries you.”

“Get out,” Zhou said quietly, “You may stay as a guest in the lodgings I provide or you may leave the compound, but I will not sit by and listen to you speak to me this way.”

Nandao rose stiffly and strode past them, his face scarlet with rage.

Lemony rose a moment later and trotted after him, her face strained with worry.  No one stirred as Zhou silently fumed.  Pendaran felt their eyes shifting between he and the guild leader.  What had Nandao meant by his words?  And why did he feel troubled by his master’s old name?

Orick cleared his throat and apologized again.

“In truth, Nandao came here at our behest.  My traveling companion, Brekke, needs help and this seemed a good place to seek it.  If it is not, please could you direct us to a more appropriate person?”

Zhou nodded, his composure restored.

“You speak of the entity that cleaves to Brekke,” Zhou said quietly, “Yes, I am able to assist with that.”

“Thank you,” Brekke said, emerging from her stunned silence to speak for herself at last, “I do not care what Nandao or the lore books say of you, Master Zhou, but I do know you are a good man now.”

If Zhou took comfort in her words, he did not show it. He rose stiffly from his seat.

“I must make preparations.  Please, do not cease your meal on my account.  I will send a servant for you when I am ready.”

Shikai rose silently, padding after him and clasping his hand as he strode from the chamber.

“What was that about?” murmured Brigit, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Zhou that angry before.”

“I’m not that surprised.  Mesmers are demons in pretty clothes for the most part.  Why should he be any different?” Uriel quipped casually, “And don’t give me that look, Pendaran.  I saw you for what you were from the start.”

Kantele and Brekke glared at Uriel but she paid them no heed as she finished her tea.

“Still, I’d like to hear the story some time.  If you’ll excuse me, I have more paperwork to do.”

Uriel rose and strode nonchalantly from the room.  It was then that Pendaran remembered.