Mel Odom - Wrath of the Blue Lady

Pirate Isle

Sea of Fallen Stars

Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

I told you they were Nine Golden Swords warriors.” Kwan Shang-Li gazed at the group of rough looking men standing in the gloom gathering in the alley behind Ottard’s Alehouse. The night truly hadn’t gotten off to a good start and it looked like things were going to get worse.

“Feh,” his father grunted. “Those thugs could be anyone’s.”

The Nine Golden Swords was a criminal organization that operated out of Westgate. They robbed, raided, and sold protection to businesses. According to his father, they were far too coarse to have any interest in Shang-Li and his father’s plans, and were nothing to worry about.

However, there was no mistaking the identity of the warriors. To anyone that would know, the tattoos on the arms and necks branded them as Nine Golden Swords warriors. Shang-Li discreetly pointed these out.

“Evidently they like the alley as a staging point for burglary as much as we do.” Shang-Li glanced up the tall, crooked tower not far from the alley.

“If this book wasn’t as important as it is, I’d say leave them to it. Let them deal with the wizard. He will kill them all.”

“Do you think Kouldar’s defenses are that good?” A slight trickle of fear ran through Shang-Li, but he felt excitement as well. His father had always considered that mixed feeling as a failing. Shang-Li lived for the rush of adventure. That was one of the first things that had led him out of the Standing Tree Monastery and out into the world.

“He’s supposed to be one of the best wizards on the isle.” His father shrugged. “I do not believe the Nine Golden Swords would have anyone skilled enough to defeat his defenses.”

“You know I’ve got to break into that tower tonight.”

His father clapped him on the arm. “Perhaps you will be lucky.”

“Thanks.”

“We’ll find out later.” His father nodded toward the Nine Golden Swords warriors. “In the meantime, it would be better if they didn’t get brave enough to attempt to break into Kouldar’s tower tonight. Maybe if we reasoned with them.”

Shang-Li stared at his father. “We’re going to reason with the Nine Golden Swords? For all we know, they’re after the books too.”

Kwan Yung was a slightly built man with gray hair and a forked beard. He stood only as tall as Shang-Li’s shoulder. Kwan Yung was full-blood Shou but he had married an elven ranger in spite of his family’s traditions, and had only one son: Shang-Li.

At twenty-four, Shang-Li was barely considered an adult by his father. His father had contributed his dark, buttery complexion and the black hair Shang-Li wore close-cropped. His pointed ears and turquoise eyes came from his mother, and from somewhere between the two he had ended up with a lean, compact build. He wore leather sandals and a black server’s uniform that fit him loosely. The small leather pack over his shoulder showed years of hard use and had accompanied him through his travels for the last twelve years.

His father grunted in disappointment. “Perhaps reasoning with them is too much to ask.”

“Knowing the Nine Golden Swords are here is going to alter our plan.”

His father shot him a look. “Our plans altered the moment you broke the last jar of hot sweet-and-sour sauce and angered the most dangerous pirate on these isles.”

“It was an accident.” Shang-Li hated the way the lie sounded so false in his ears.

“An accident that got you fired and earned you a death threat from Captain Trolag. As I recall, that wasn’t part of the plan.”

It wasn’t, and Shang-Li was embarrassed he’d jeopardized the plan. Not only that, now that his father knew about the incident, Shang-Li knew his father would never let him live it down. Once they returned home, Shang-Li trusted everyone at the monastery would hear the tale. Years of woe stretched out before him.

And then there was Captain Trolag’s death threat. Captain Trolag had brandished his displeasure and menace around like weapons. Few on the Pirate Isle would stand against him, and Captain Trolag stayed away from those men. Instead, he enjoyed stringing up men too helpless to defend themselves. The corpses of three that had angered the captain that morning danced from gibbets at the harbor entrance. Shang-Li had seen the dead men from the kitchen window where he worked at the Blinding Onion.

Had worked . Shang-Li’s dismissal from the tavern had come suddenly and without any chance of misinterpretation. He’d been surprised at how much getting fired from the tavern had stung. The job had merely been a cover, but he had worked hard to do his job well for as long as he had need of it.

Except for the mishandling of the spice tureen. That was truly unfortu-

“I’m not convinced that the sweet-and-sour sauce was mishandled by accident,” his father said, interrupting Shang-Li’s thoughts.

“Maybe we could deal with our friends here now, and talk later?”

“If you must.”

Shang-Li walked out of the shadows and approached the Nine Golden Swords warriors standing in the alley. He kept his hands open, showing no weapons. His server’s uniform from the Blinding Onion offered no clue as to who he was.

“What do you want?” A large man stepped forward and put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Shang-Li stood his ground and expanded his senses, reaching for Moonwhisper, the horned owl that he’d taken as his animal companion. After three years, the effort of connecting with the predatory bird was as natural as breathing.

Moonwhisper sat in the shadows of a window high on one of the nearby buildings. He had already started to fidget restlessly when the men closed on Shang-Li. The owl watched the seamen closely, and through the bond that they shared, Shang-Li got a better look at the scene.

Through the owl’s eyes, everything was rendered in black and white. But Moonwhisper’s vision was sharp. Shang-Li felt the owl shift his weight and unfurl his wings as he leaped from the window. He took to the air soundlessly, earning the name Shang-Li had given him when he’d been little more than a struggling hatchling.

“Can you spare a few copper pieces?” Shang-Li waved at his father. “My father is sick and I need to get him to a healer.”

Kwan Yung coughed theatrically and walked over as well.

“Go away.” The big man waved a threatening hand. Like all the others, he was Shou, golden-skinned and black-haired, covered in tattoos. “I’ll kill your diseased old father before he comes close enough to get me sick.”

His father stopped. “Have things changed so much in the world, Shang-Li, that an old man in the streets can’t rely on the kindness of strangers?”

Shang-Li seized the big man’s outstretched hand, pinched the nerves deep in his palm, then round kicked him in the face. “The kindness of strangers is something you find in a book. Did you really expect to find it here in the Pirate Isles?”

Another warrior lunged with a spear, intending to skewer Kwan Yung. The old man side-stepped the spear thrust, then swayed effortlessly forward and chopped the man in the throat with the edge of his hand. The warrior dropped to his knees, abandoning his weapon and holding his bruised throat as he tried to force his breath in and out. “The kindness of strangers must be a lot like good service in taverns,” his father said. “It can’t be found anymore.”

Shang-Li didn’t reply. His father had always been good at ferreting out his lies.

His father persisted. “Did you spill the tureen on purpose?” His father caught a man’s sword lunge, redirected it, and then slammed his elbow into the man’s temple. The Nine Golden Swords warrior dropped like a rock.