Chapter 44. Zhou's Dilemma

hou was quick to bring order to the ensuing chaos that had followed the attack on the Crystal Palm compound.  Soon after his return, he had gathered up his officers, guild members, and willing servants to obtain the necessary tools, materials and manpower to shore up the gate and begin repairs on the damaged house and hall.  By dawn, the rainy silence was punctuated by the busy sounds of repairs.

Kantele had insisted upon sharing a temporary room with Lemony, Teleri and Mabane since none of them wanted to be alone and their own rooms were damaged and damp.  Their quarters were dim but cozy with a small fireplace and a pair of large feather beds.  The little monk had cried herself to sleep during the night wrapped in Kantele’s arms while Mabane had curled beside his mother.  The three of them were still asleep and Kantele had no intention of waking them.  It was the best medicine for them now.

Her morning ablutions complete, she donned a loose sky blue caftan embroidered with pale pink peonies and ran an ornate ivory comb through her auburn hair.  The round mirror above the battered washstand reflected a tired face with heavy shadows haunting her blue eyes.  She sighed, having no desire to powder or rouge some life into her face.  The borrowed clothes did not suit her narrow frame, but they were comfortable at least.  She was just about to relax and meditate when there was a soft rap on the door.  A mixture of curiosity and dread rose within her for she had been looking forward to some quiet time alone to center and cleanse herself of psychic strain.  Nevertheless, she smiled broadly upon the boy who greeted her when she cracked open the door. It occurred to her that all the adults were no doubt engaged in repairs or attending to those in need.

“What is your name, lad?” she asked, trying to put the boy at ease.  He bowed, then quirked a narrow brow.  He did not understand Tyrian.  Tugging awkwardly on his long gray jacket, he gestured and indicated that she was to follow him.  She nodded and slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.  He moved quickly, leading her across the ruins of the entry hall and up the sodden staircase to the study that had sheltered them the night before.  The door was open and the resinous odor of burning incense flowed out into the hallway.

Zhou was there, alone and haggard as he poured sand in an intricate pattern upon the floor.  He scarcely glanced up and fired off a command in Canthan that caused the boy to bow deeply and scamper away. 

“Good morning, Miss Marella,” he said, “I apologize for summoning you here at this hour.”

“I was awake and dressed.  It was no trouble, Master Bei.”

He hesitated for a moment, listening as he clutched the plain lacquered box that held the shimmering sand.  She was an empath but Zhou had been closed to her for the entirety of her visit, something that was refreshing if a little unnerving.  His emotions did not join the cacophony of feelings that normally beat upon her psyche, but it also added to her opinion of him as a mysterious and reserved man.  That façade, however, was growing thin.  That morning she could sense grief and dismay.  He had not slept and his body was quivering with exhaustion.

“Is there anything I can do to help you, Master Bei?”

“Do you recognize the pattern I am making, Miss Marella?”

She gazed upon the circle with its eight mysterious spokes and glyphs. 

“No, I am afraid I do not.  I was not trained in such arts.”

“Few are,” he replied, “It was passed down to me by my master and I will pass it down to my student.  And I expect him to pass it down to those he chooses to teach.  It is a weary path and I do not think my adept realizes what he has agreed to do in serving me.”

“If I may be so bold, Master Bei, what is this art you practice?  What is its purpose?”

“You know I have a dark past,” he said quietly, his hands trembling as he finished another glyph.  He chanted softly and the symbol flared violet, startling Kantele.

“Yes.”

“My art is a penance and my master gave it to me in that spirit.  I am sworn to rid the world of demons.  I may not refuse and I may not receive compensation.  Any who come to my door possessed or imperiled I must assist.”

Kantele felt his weariness as if it were her own.  He paused in his work and met her gaze, his dark eyes dull and red.

“Ashekoroth is a demon,” Zhou sighed, “You have no doubt surmised that much.”

“Yes.”

She wondered why he was telling her these things.  He had seemed so closed to her and the others.  Zhou fell silent as he moved carefully out of the circle and set the box aside.  Clad in a long flowing black gown, he presented a grim figure, his flesh waxen and pale in the faded gray light that seeped through the windows. 

“Water is the most powerful element,” he said quietly, “I have destroyed many demons, but this one may well be a match for me.  It hungers for my knowledge, for that is how it gained power and consciousness.  If it were to learn what I know, I fear what it might do with such lore.  I am in a bind, Miss Marella.  My adept is captured and his fear and pain will soon be used against me.   Minor demons I can withstand alone, but I dare not face Ashekoroth.”

“You want me to help you defeat Ashekoroth?”

Zhou shook his head sadly.

“This is a banishment circle,” he sighed, “Alas, even were you willing, you have not the training nor do I have time to impart that knowledge.  It takes many years to learn this art.  No, I need your help in another way.”

“Ask it, Master Bei, I am willing.”

“You may refuse me, of course,” he replied, his eyes cast down and she felt the burn of his anger and grief, “I must sever myself emotionally from Pendaran.  When Ashekoroth chooses to use our bond against me, I must be warded against that.”

“I would be honored to help you, Master Bei.”

“You understand what this means?”

Kantele tried to meet his gaze but he looked away from her.

“No, but you are ashamed.”

“I must now accept that Pendaran is dead.  It will profit no one if both of us die and allowing Ashekoroth to take my knowledge is irresponsible.  That is the way of things in this profession.  He chose to surrender and I honor his desire.  He has not asked me to come for him and so I am not bound to do so.”

“Surely someone else…”

“No,” Zhou said quietly, “No one else need die.  That is my decision.”

Kantele bit her lip imagining Pendaran weak and alone and in the grasp of that terrible demon.  Zhou was studying her, his emotions contained once more but his eyes shadowed with weariness.

“I chose you to help me because of your empathetic gift.  I sensed it when you first arrived but now I have seen you at work,” he said kindly, “There is one other reason.  You are close to those who most love Pendaran.  I fear I lack the delicacy to explain the situation to them.  I know it is asking a great deal, Miss Marella, but if you could explain to Lemony and Teleri in such a way that they do not seek to help him…”

Zhou staggered, holding his belly as pain wracked his body.  Tears poured down his cheeks and he sobbed once.  Reflexively, Kantele rushed to his side and held him as he trembled.

“It has started,” he moaned, “Please, you must help me.”

Kantele guided him wordlessly to the center of the circle and helped him sit.  His pale flesh blossomed with cold sweat and he shuddered like a leaf in a chill winter wind.  Poor man, poor dear man.  Where was Shikai?  How was this possible?

“Oh Pendaran,” Zhou moaned, “I’m so sorry, my friend.  I’m so sorry.”

“What must I do, Master Bei?”

“Book on lectern… opened to start of ritual.  Not much time.  Please do as it says.  Gem here,” he sobbed, opening his hand to reveal a perfectly round ruby in his palm like a drop of fresh blood, “I’m sorry.”

Kantele bowed and nodded, closing the door and throwing the latch.  Zhou was a proud man and would not want others to see him reduced to such a weakened state.  Already he was moving inward, the gem held out to her but his eyes hooded and his breathing controlled.  Calm descended upon him, but his body was rigid and occasionally a choking sound issued from his throat.  She hated to imagine what he was going through.  What Pendaran was going through.

Few of her kind dared to make such bonds with one another and now she understood why.  What he asked of her was no less than psychic amputation.  She had a moment of doubt as she scanned the text and the full realization of what was required of her became clear.  Zhou’s dark eyes fell upon her now, desolate and anguished.

“Please.”

Kantele was not certain she could do it.  Her hand trembled as she lit the ring of candles that edged the great circle and took up the ritual sword and the silver goblet already filled with a nacreous black substance.  The bitter draught, it was called in the text, and he would drink it to dull the pain of her working.

Uttering a prayer to Lyssa, Kantele set to work.