Wrath of the Blue Lady

CHAPTER NINE

Shang-Li stood in the ship’s prow and watched Westgate, Old Town and Tidetown, grow steadily closer. When the Sea of Fallen Stars had been full, Westgate had enjoyed a natural deep water port. With the shrinking of the sea, the harbor had fallen away, and the city had needed to rebuild its docks and warehouses closer to the new shore. The new area of the city, the “Tidetown,” had ended up squatting in the shadows of the old city.

Because there was no longer much of a natural shoreline, one had to be created. Or rather, the original had needed to be expanded. Those who had built Tidetown worked at their craft. Docks stabbed out into the water and allowed for the transfer of goods. Businesses-taverns, and inns, and warehouses-lay along the abbreviated shore, part along a network of wooden walkways, and part inside caves.

Shang-Li wondered what it would have been like to have seen old Westgate in all its grandeur.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” Yugi stood attentive and ready beside Shang-Li. “Just to Tidetown? Or have you been all the way to old Westgate?”

“I’ve been to the old city as well. You?”

Yugi shook his head. “Not me. I never got up from Tidetown. The watch doesn’t allow rabble or visitors into old town. Especially lowly sailors. So who invited you?”

“No one. And I left old Westgate faster than I went in.”

Despite the losses of friends and shipmates only a few days ago, the young man smiled at that. “Sounds like a tale begging to be told.”

“For another time.”

“I’ll hold you to that when we put this place behind us.”

“You’re planning on shipping out with us?”

“Of course!”

Shang-Li didn’t know how he felt about that. After seeing the Blue Lady, after the attack by the kuo-toa, he knew they would be heading into danger. It didn’t seem right to bring Yugi along.

As if sensing what the young monk had on his mind, Yugi said, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” He nodded at the city. “You think it would be any safer for me there?”

Thinking of the rough trade that went on in Tidetown, as well as the degenerate tastes that were too often entertained in old Westgate, Shang-Li knew Yugi would be no safer there.

Yugi cleared his throat. “So who are we here to see?”

In spite of the danger that waited ahead of him, Shang-Li smiled at the thought of who he was there to see. “Good friends. True friends. Some of the best friends I’ve ever made.”

And he was going to lead them into a blue hell waiting at the bottom of the Sea of Fallen Stars. The realization didn’t set well with him.

That night, while the ship lay in harbor, Shang-Li dreamed of the Blue Lady again. He returned to that blue world beneath the sea. For a time he wandered through the forest and horrible things darted out to challenge him. He held a sword in his fists, ready to do battle, but none of the creatures closed on him.

“They won’t attack you, manling.”

Shifting smoothly, Shang-Li turned to face the Blue Lady across naked steel. She didn’t appear to be impressed.

“For the moment, you are under my protection.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to come see me.”

“Why would I do that?”

The Blue Lady smiled. “I have that which you seek: The books of Liou Chang.”

Unease swept over Shang-Li as he considered the possibilities that declaration brought with it. He wondered how much she knew about the books and what they contained.

“Enough.” The Blue Lady’s eyes flashed. “And I’m learning more each day.”

“What do you want?”

She arched a brow. “From you?”

He waited, unwilling to play into her game.

Uncaring of the weapon he held, she walked around him, occasionally touching the monstrosities that lounged within the strange, underwater forest. “I want to see you, manling, and get to know you better.”

Shang-Li knew she was lying. She wanted something from him, but he couldn’t imagine what it was. “You won’t get me.”

“Won’t I?” She chuckled. “Your duty requires that you find Liou Chang’s lost books, does it not? Would your father walk away from this task when it is so near to completion?”

“We don’t know that.”

“I have the books you seek.”

“Show them to me.”

“You disbelieve me?”

“I have no reason to trust you, and every reason not to.” Shang-Li moved in tandem with her, shifting constantly to face her without crossing his feet.

“Besides your duty, your curiosity will bring you to me, manling. It is your nature to explore places where no one has gone before.”

Shang-Li’s eyes cut to the skeletons and corpses scattered across the ground. Some of the bodies looked fresh and sea scavengers worked at the soft flesh. “Plenty have gone on before me.”

She smiled sweetly. “But none have returned to carry the true tale, manling.” She paused. “You do not even know who or what I truly am.” She showed him her shield and pointed to the symbol of the falling rain. “Do you know why I chose this as my standard?”

“No.”

“Because the rain is water in transition. It rests in the sea, rises to form clouds that can go anywhere they want to, then falls to earth again to find its way once more to the sea. That will be me, manling. I will rise from this place and create a new empire in this world.” The Blue Lady regarded him. “You get to choose whether we work together-or you die.”

Shang-Li feared her, but he kept quiet.

“Don’t worry, manling. You don’t have to choose now. There is still time.” Then she pushed a hand out at him-

– and Shang-Li woke in the hammock on Swallow. Sweat covered his body and his head felt feverish. He got up and stretched, and wondered how many more of the dreams he would have to endure.

Droust walked through the debris of the latest ship the Blue Lady had pulled from the surface. She had kept some of the crewmen alive this time, given them the ability to breathe underwater as he did, and some of them hid within the broken hull, watching him with fearful eyes.

The burly captain stepped out of hiding and challenged Droust. “Who are you?”

“A cursed man, captain, not your captor. A prisoner just as you are.”

“What is this place?”

“You saw the Blue Lady?”

The captain gave a tight nod. “Aye, before she dragged us under I saw her. I’d heard tales of her, but I’d never believed them.”

A mistake. Droust didn’t allow himself to feel sorry for the man. The captain and the rest of his crew would be hunted and killed by the monsters in the forest. The Blue Lady allowed her pets to play from time to time.

“What are you doing here then?” The captain’s anger fixed on Droust.

“I came to see what goods your ship carried.”

“Like a thief doing inventory?”

Droust shook his head. “Like a prisoner doing what his jailer has ordered.”

Several of the other sailors cursed and stepped forward. All of them were brave now when they faced one man. Droust was certain that hadn’t been the case when the Blue Lady had confronted them.

“I says you’re a thief, no better’n pirates we’ve faced over our journey.” A large man joined the captain and brandished his cutlass. “What’s to stop us from capturing you and using you to gain our own freedom?”

“The Blue Lady doesn’t care if I live or die. You would be wasting your time.”

Before the big man or the captain could speak again, the monsters lurking within the forest attacked. The awful creatures swam, scurried, and slithered toward the doomed crew. Bravely, the men tried to stand their ground, but none of them could face the sheer onslaught of carnivores. The line broke and they tried to flee more deeply back into the sunken ship. In a moment, blood spread throughout the water and drew the attention of the sharks swimming overhead. Like enormous arrows, the sharks sped down and plucked victims from the ranks of the ship’s crew.

Familiar with the carnage and its eventual outcome, Droust sat down to wait until the blood film over the area thinned. He didn’t think he breathed it in, but the possibility appalled him. He hardened his heart against the anguished shouts and cries for help.

“Does their death amuse you?”

Recognizing the voice as belonging to the strangest thing he’d ever seen, Droust turned to face it. Only a short distance away in a canyon that had become a graveyard of ships, a vessel peered at him from the eyes of the figurehead of a beautiful woman on the prow.

“No, Red Orchid. Their deaths only sadden me. They remind me of how trapped I am in this place.”

“Yet you sit there unmoved as they die.”

Droust stared at the figurehead. As near as he’d figured from the coins and other artifact aboard Red Orchid, she had gone down roughly at the same time as the Spellplague had been unleashed upon the world. From his conversations with her, he knew that she hadn’t been sentient until that time. She had no memories of her journeys above the sea, only of her isolation and imprisonment here.

The Blue Lady knew about Red Orchid, and would sometimes go there to taunt the figurehead. Or the ship, Droust wasn’t certain exactly what Red Orchid had become since being exposed to the Spellplague and whatever magic resided in the land that held Caelynna prisoner. The only reason Droust could suppose the Blue Lady hadn’t destroyed the ship was because she regarded her as a curiosity.

Or perhaps the Blue Lady wanted one more thing to hurt and subjugate.

“What about you, Red Orchid? Do their deaths make you feel remorse because you can’t do anything?”

Red Orchid looked at him with cold disdain. “If I were able to move, I would fight the Blue Lady.”

“You can move.”

“Not enough to climb from this cursed hole. And if I could, I would fight.”

“Then you would die.”

The figurehead was quiet for a time and both of them watched the last moments of the rampant slaughter taking place before them. “This is a death too.” Red Orchid’s voice was somber. “Watching her take these ships, we die again and again. Only there is no release.”

Droust said nothing, watching as a leg floated up from the ship. A shark glided down and took the limb in the blink of an eye.

“She lures another here.”

Droust looked at the ship. “How do you know that?”

“I have seen him when she brings him here through his dreams. She taunts him and lures him.”

“You have seen into his dreams?” The wonder of that filled Droust for just a moment and chased all the fear and guilt from him.

“I have.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps because I am tied so closely to her land and to the power she wields. Perhaps that links us.”

“What do you know of him?” Red Orchid fixed Droust with her beautiful eyes.

“He is clever and resourceful. He’s been very successful recovering other lost antiquities.”

“How do you know this?”

“I am in contact with men that work for the Blue Lady on land. They have learned these things and told me.”

“And you have told the Blue Lady.”

Droust dropped his gaze. “It is what I must do if I am to survive.”

The ship growled to show her disrespect. “You only exist, Droust. You don’t live.”

Droust could say nothing in his defense that she hadn’t already heard and discounted.

“Perhaps this one will escape the Blue Lady’s clutches.” Red Orchid shifted slightly on the front of the ship. Veins of blue lightning underscored the figurehead, showing the remnants of the Spellplague’s effects.

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

“He isn’t afraid the way you were. I saw her efforts to claim you in your dreams. You were always frightened. This man isn’t.”

Embarrassed, face burning despite the chill of the sea around him, Droust drew himself up straight. “This man will bend to the Blue Lady or he will die.”

“Can you be so sure?”

“Yes. Already Nine Golden Swords warriors are tracking him in Westgate. They will catch him there and bring him to the Blue Lady to use as she will.”

Red Orchid shook her head. “Go root among the dead like the ghoul that you are, Droust. I pity you.”

“I have no need of your pity.”

“But you do. It must be hard to live so hopelessly.”

Droust turned from her and walked toward the ship while the monsters feasted on the bounty that their mistress had delivered to them. He tried not to think about Red Orchid’s words, but it was hard because he knew they were true.

“Are you sure you need the sword?”

Shang-Li sighed as he walked down the gangplank from Swallow to the docks. Truthfully, he felt a little overdressed with the long sword resting in a sheath over his right shoulder. He also felt tired and irritable from the lack of sleep.

“Yes, I need the sword.”

His father walked beside him and drank in the sights. He was dressed as a proper monk but without the temple insignia. Shang-Li knew most people in Tidetown and old Westgate would assume his father was a beggar. That fact, especially since they weren’t there in disguise, was a little embarrassing. He hadn’t expected that.

He wished more fervently that his father had stayed aboard the ship. But that would have been too easy.

Several sailors and dockworkers watched as he passed. Most of the glances were unfriendly. A few were speculative and he knew the owners of those wondered how much gold he carried with him. And the Nine Golden Swords walked almost with impunity through Westgate’s streets and almost owned the alleys and shadows. The city wasn’t a safe place.

“‘A sword often represents a challenge,’” his father told him.

“Quoting Barsillus?” Shang-Li lifted an eyebrow when he regarded his father.

“Were I a betting man, I would have wagered you wouldn’t have known that quote.”

“Barsillus was an interesting man, and he wrote interesting books. Actually, I’m surprised you know of him.”

His father harrumphed in displeasure. “Barsillus was an important tactician.”

“True, and he practiced his tactics on every kingdom around him. Some historians, rightfully in my opinion, have labeled him a bully.”

“Barsillus single-handedly united most of northern Chessenta.”

“His book puts it that way. Others felt that he enslaved the surrounding lands.”

His father made a rude noise. “History puts it that way.”

“Only because Barsillus would have lined his walls with the heads of every scribe that refused to write history the way he wanted it written.”

“I’ve never read that anywhere.”

“Father,” Shang-Li said, “the man lined his walls with the heads of everyone that displeased him. Though Barsillus didn’t make that particular comment, the math is certainly simple enough to follow.”

“An historian records what is factual and leaves guessing to bards.”

“I know several bards who know more about specific histories than I do.” Too late, Shang-Li saw that he had left himself open for a swift rebuttal. He blamed his lax attention to the conversation on the fact that he was also keeping watch over them, searching doorways and alleys for possible thieves and assassins. Goddess knew, there would be those in Westgate even without their current trouble.

“Personally, I find that no great feat,” his father said. “There are probably fish in these waters that know more about history than you do.”

Shang-Li focused on his stride and tried not to sigh. They wouldn’t get out of Westgate soon enough.

“Admit it,” his father said. “You wore the sword simply to vex me, and to get some petty revenge because I made you work as a server.”

“No, that’s not it. I’m not trying to vex you. This is a dangerous place.”

“All places are dangerous. Were I not looking, I could slip and fall and break my neck.”

Not his neck, Shang-Li thought. But goddess willing, perhaps he could fracture his jaw. Or bite his tongue. Even thinking that made the young monk feel guilty, though.

“Wearing the sword is an open invitation to anyone harboring aggressive tendencies,” his father said. “It’s just as likely there could be some that confront you just to find out if you are worthy of carrying that sword.”

“I am worthy of carrying the sword. Anyone seeking that knowledge will get a quick lesson.” Actually, the sword was the least of it. Shang-Li was a walking arsenal at the moment. At least his father didn’t know about-

“You’re carrying so many weapons that you jingle when you walk.”

Shang-Li barely held back a flurry of curses. “No, I’m not.”

“Petty, vengeful, insecure, obstinate-and deaf. These are not qualities I’d hoped to find in you after your absence, but I can’t be responsible for what you fail to learn or what you forget while you’re away from the monastery.”

“This is my world, Father. I know what I’m doing here.”

Kwan Yung gestured at the people around them. “So do the fishermen and the merchant. They also know what they’re doing. You don’t see them walking around with weapons.”

“That’s because the fishermen has a filleting knife in his boot and the merchant has three guards who carry weapons.” Shang-Li scanned the docks. “Everyone here carries weapons.”

“And what would you do if everyone were to throw themselves from a cliff? Would you too throw yourself from a cliff? To be like the rest of these insecure people?”

Mentally, Shang-Li surrendered. “You know, Father, now that I think about it, this is about making me work as a server.”

“I already knew that,” his father said smugly. “But it is good to hear you admit your pettiness. Perhaps there is hope for you after all.”

“You should have been the server.”

“True, and if I were, I wouldn’t have spilled the sauce.”

Helplessly, Shang-Li ground his teeth and increased his pace. The day could not be over with soon enough.

“Who are these people we’re going to meet?” his father asked.

“Friends.”

“Do your friends have names?”“

“You don’t know them.”

“I could have heard you talk about them.”

“I doubt it.”

“Why?” his father asked. “Do you not talk about these friends? Do you have some reason to be ashamed of them?”

“The only reason I don’t talk about them is because you wouldn’t listen. These are friends and a part of my life that you expressly disapprove of.”

“That is a large part of your life, you know. And it seems to be growing.”

Shang-Li didn’t comment.

The alley twisted back and forth between buildings like a broken-backed snake. Halfway down, a man stood in front of a recessed doorway painted a brilliant red.

The man was young and stout. Ginger colored hair fell to his shoulders. His smile was big but disingenuous. He stepped into the alley before them.

“If I could have your attention for but a moment, good sirs, I would very much appreciate it. I will promise not to take up much of your time and to use well what you can generously spare.”

Shang-Li feinted in one direction, then reversed and went the other way, neatly stepping past the man. His foot sloshed noisily through the mud, which sucked at his boot as he broke contact.

“A minute of your time.” The man pointed at the red door and kept pace with Shang-Li. “Through that door lies Yahlil, the best performer you’ll ever have the good fortune to see. She does the dance of the Thirty-Six Veils.” The man grinned, showing crooked yellow teeth. “And most of those are very small veils.”

“Sorry.” Shang-Li held up a hand in quick apology. “I’ve no time.”

Undeterred, the barker swung on Kwan Yung. “What about you, good sir? I promise you haven’t seen anything like Yahlil in years. She is a woman unlike anything you have ever seen before. Her performance has thrilled nobility near unto-”

From the corner of his eye, Shang-Li watched his father grab the man’s ear, tug it and twist it just so, and the man dropped into an unconscious heap in the alley.

“It will be better if we didn’t draw attention,” Shang-Li said.

His father snorted derisively. “This from the man insisting on wearing a big sword.”

“The sword fits in better than leaving a trail of unconscious men behind. You can’t just leave men lying in the street.”

Ahead, a tavern door opened and two men-one after the other-were tossed out into the alley. Both were obviously very drunk and neither moved after they stopped sliding through the mud. One’s chest moved and the other blew bubbles in the muck.

A large man stood in the door and cursed the unconscious drunks. He glared at Shang-Li, who said nothing. Satisfied, the man turned back inside the tavern and closed the door.

Shang-Li stepped around the abandoned drunks.

“Oh really?” his father said as he walked over one of the unconscious men. “I find that unconscious men serve well as the occasional dry spot in this pigsty where you’ve left me. Maybe someone else will appreciate the providential island I have left.”

With effort, Shang-Li breathed out and remained silent as he kept walking.

Lukkob’s the Edge Tavern occupied a cliff overlooking the harbor. The narrow street dead-ended at the tavern. It was flanked by shops and a couple of inns. Building the tavern there had been risky to begin with, but Lukkob had compounded the risk by choosing to enlarge the square footage inside the building as his business grew more prosperous.

Unable to claim part of the street because it would have restructured access to the shops on either side of him, Lukkob had built the addition over the cliff’s edge. The room’s extension hung out over the harbor a good twenty feet and ran forty feet across. Large tree trunks had been fitted into the cliff below at an angle to provide support. Still, on stormy days, the tavern shook and shivered like a luffing sail.

Kwan Yung spotted the tavern and came to a full stop in the middle of the street. A man attempted to drive his wagon over the old man, but Kwan Yung held his hand out and the horse nuzzled it for a moment before turning aside. The wagon’s wheels rolled up onto the wooden sidewalk, drawing uncouth commentary from sailors who had to jump hurriedly out of the way.

“We’re going into that?” his father asked. “Is it safe?”

“It has been so far.”

The old man shook his head. “Folly. I suppose your friend owns this place?”

“No.”

“Then why else would a man visit an accident waiting to happen like this one?”

“Lukkob’s has got great service. If you know the owner. I happen to know the owner.”

“So he is a friend,” his father said as if that explained everything.

“Yes, but not the friend we’re here to see.” Shang-Li walked toward the tavern again.

One of the front windows suddenly exploded. Glass shards spun and dropped to the shell-covered street, followed by thin latticework and a big sailor with a bloody nose. The big man rolled and grunted in pain, then pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He cursed and felt at his hip, then realized his cutlass lay beside him on the ground.

“Obviously this is a well-mannered establishment,” his father commented.

“You can wait here, if you like.” Shang-Li walked to the swaying sailor and examined him.

The man was a few years older than Shang-Li and corded with muscle from a harsh life aboardship. Blood streamed from the sailor’s nose and split lips.

“What’s going on in Lukkob’s?” Shang-Li asked.

The sailor gestured with his cutlass up, pointing toward the tavern. “Got a pox-blasted dragonborn in there that decided to take exception to the fun we was having with the servin’ wenches.”

Only lately come from a serving background himself, Shang-Li had to pause and not take exception to the “fun” the sailors were having with the poor woman.

“She decided to take us all on,” the sailor continued, “and we would’ve been able to take her if that tiefling hadn’t stuck his horns in.”

“A tiefling and a dragonborn traveling together?” Shang-Li asked.

“Maybe. Don’t know. They was there when we got off ship.”

Shang-Li shook a fighting stick from his sleeve. “Thank you.” He rapped the sailor sharply across the temple and the big man spilled unconscious to the ground.

His father shook his head. “Not to question the honor in such a task, but if you decide to go around defending serving wenches everywhere you go, you’ll never get anything else done.”

“Serving is a task that should be respected. Not just anyone can do it.”

“Obviously the ability to carry a tureen of sauce separates those who can from those who can’t.”

Shang-Li shook his other fighting stick into his hand and continued to the tavern.