Mel Odom - Wrath of the Blue Lady

The hall continued for some distance before turning to the right. Droust pointed to a door flanked by four Nine Golden Swords members. They bared their weapons at Shang-Li’s approach but offered no direct threat.

“They don’t like you.” Droust halted in front of the door and waited as one of the Nine Golden Swords members used an ornate key on the lock.

“We share a long and blood-soaked history,” Shang-Li said. “I have never cared much for thieves and murderers. Obviously the feeling is reciprocated.”

The Nine Golden Swords warriors merely grinned and cursed him. One of them spat at Shang-Li, but the effort was wasted under the ocean.

Droust led the way through the doors into a large, ornate library lit by massive glowstones. The sea remained locked outside the doors as though a wall of glass separated the interior of the room from the hallway. One of the Nine Golden Swords warriors stuck his head through the opening and his wet beard dripped onto the floor as he grinned evilly.

“Caelynna understands she has to keep this room dry if I am to work.” Droust walked behind a dressing screen, then pointed to another on the other side of the room. “You’ll find dry robes there. Get out of your wet clothing. You can’t get the books fouled.”

Shang-Li walked behind the other dressing screen and reluctantly took off his leather armor. He didn’t like being left so unprotected and unarmed in the midst of the Nine Golden Swords, but he didn’t want to ruin the books either. Once he was dressed in the simple gown, he joined Droust at a large marble table in the center of the room.

Despair filled Shang-Li as he looked at the empty shelves that lined the walls.

“I know,” Droust said. “I felt the same way. When I was given this room, the shelves were full of books.”

“Where are they now?”

“Molded. Ruined. A long time before my arrival. Caelynna chased the water from this room and set it up for me to work on Liou’s books. I had to throw away the old books. Nothing of them could be saved. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I’ve worried for years about all that was lost of whomever lived here.” The scribe peered around the room. “I’d never thought I’d ever be cloistered away for so very long in one place.” He glanced at Shang-Li. “But you’re probably used to that.”

“No.” Shang-Li had loved the monastery, but he had loved the forests and even the cities more. Mostly he had loved the adventures, the new experiences that came on a nearly daily pace. “Where are the books?”

Droust hesitated. He crossed the floor and took a crystal from a gold chain around his neck. As he pressed the crystal near a blank section in the bookshelves, a keyhole appeared. The scribe thrust the crystal home and twisted.

A moment later, a thick stone door opened on a stone box that suddenly appeared. Droust reached into the box with reverence and took out two books. He turned and carefully brought them back to Shang-Li.

Handling the books delicately, Shang-Li placed them side by side on the table and began flipping them open one at a time. With them juxtaposed, he hoped that he could pick up any redundancies Liou Chang might have used in his code work.

The passages were written in script that Shang-Li didn’t recognize from any of the languages he knew or was familiar with.

“They’re written in artificial languages,” Droust said.

“I know.” Shang-Li carefully turned the neatly lettered pages. “I’ve read some of his other books. My father made me translate much of Liou’s work while I was growing up at the monastery. He’s an authority on Liou Chang.”

“Then why isn’t he here?”

“Because my father is an excellent academician, but I’m better at breaking codes. Besides that, the Blue Lady wanted me here.” Shang-Li looked at Droust. “I’m going to ask you a simple question, and I want you to think about your answer before you give it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to escape the Blue Lady?” Droust’s face pulled tight in consternation. “What are you talking about? That’s foolishness. It can’t be done.”

“But if it could?”

The scribe held his tongue.

“It’s better if you live another seventy years or more in captivity to the Blue Lady?”

Droust lowered his gaze. “No. It’s not better.”

“Then let me secure these books so they won’t be damaged by the sea.” Shang-Li returned to the dressing screen for his bag. “Does the Blue Lady watch over you while you’re here?”

“Sometimes. But she’s going to be deep into the ritual she’s preparing to sacrifice your shipmates.”

Shang-Li thrust the books into the bag and they promptly disappeared. Despite the addition, the bag was still almost weightless. Then he dressed himself in his sodden clothing and armor.

Droust changed as well and stood ready, though frightened.

“Can you use a weapon?” Shang-Li asked.

Droust shook his head. “As I said, I’m only a scribe.”

“Then do your best to stay out of the way.”

Droust looked toward the door where the Nine Golden Swordsmen stood guard. Though the doors were closed, their voices outside were loud as they swapped lies and told of conquests with women and games of chance.

“They will never let us by.”

“That’s our second option.” Shang-Li crossed the room and began examining the walls. “Doesn’t it strike you as strange that in a room this large and-once upon a time-so important would only have one exit? Especially in a building as the size of this one?”

Droust looked thoughtful and scared. “I’ve never thought about it.”

That’s what comes of leading a cloistered life, Shang-Li thought. The edge on your curiosity dulls. He slipped a fighting stick from his sleeve and tapped on the wall.

“You think there’s a secret passageway?”

Shang-Li snorted. “Of course I do. Anyone in a citadel like this would want one in case of attack, or for the household staff to use to stay out of sight. Or perhaps for spying on guests.”

“I’ve never noticed one.”

“Have you ever looked?”

“No.”

“Perhaps that’s why. Now be quiet and let me listen.” Shang-Li worked slowly, taking his time as he went around the room. Finally he located a section he thought was hollow from the sound of his taps.

Slipping his knife from his boot, Shang-Li pried around the edges of the stones. Even after all the years of being at the bottom of the sea and surviving the Spellplague, the mortar remained tight and complete. After a while, he thought he’d been mistaken about the hollow space, that perhaps it had only been a void after all. Time leaked away from him, slid like oil from a clenched fist. He couldn’t bear the thought of his father and friends dying without having a chance to defend themselves or escape.

Then his clever fingers found a release near the juncture of wall and floor. The release only moved a fraction of an inch, and even after all this time it moved smoothly. Locks snicked open.

Droust let out a strangled cry and looked back over his shoulder at the entrance. For a moment Shang-Li thought perhaps the scribe was going to shout a warning. He tightened his grip on the fighting stick and readied himself to ram it into Droust’s throat to silence him.

Visibly shaken, Droust watched the door, then turned back to Shang-Li. “They didn’t hear that.”

“Good.” Shang-Li stood and opened the hidden doorway. It only moved a few inches, blocked by fallen stone. The opening wasn’t large enough to squeeze more than his head through.

“What’s wrong?” Droust pressed in close to him and tried to look for himself.

“The passageway’s partially collapsed.” Shang-Li held out his glowstone. “But the passage continues. What’s in the room next to us?”