The Broken Knife

Kaz watched through Li’s eyes the entire time he climbed the stairs. He thought this staircase was a little shorter than the one between the mines and the yumi pools, but it could just be that he was so driven by fear that he bounded up them far more quickly. He tried telling Li to wait, but she acted as if she hadn’t even heard him, continuing forward long after she should have stopped.

By the time he reached the door, his fur was damp with sweat, and he was actually out of breath, in spite of the tempering of his body. He paused, hands on his thighs, panting as he stood on the landing, entirely focused on the battle between Lianhua and the tall mosui. When Lianhua collapsed, he let out a sound that was something between a growl and a low whine, and thrust his finger into the hole concealing a chip of blue crystal. A spark of ki jumped, barely visible, and the door swiveled in place, revealing the wide hallway beyond.

Stay there, he thought to Li as his eyes darted around, looking for telltale clouds of mana as much as the physical bodies of anyone who might be nearby. He saw nothing, however, so he bumped the door closed with his shoulder, then turned his attention to the gleaming cord hanging in the air. For the first time since he’d entered the city, it was nearly level, sloping only slightly upward, and Kaz turned to the left and began to run.

He held his knife in his hand, ready to do battle if anyone attempted to stop him, but no one appeared. Once or twice, he heard sounds and saw mana beyond a closed door, but there was no one in the passages themselves. Those passages were nearly identical, but he had three things to guide him: First, his tie to Li, which told him which path to follow to head in her general direction. Second, the dark alcoves Li had left behind. If the situation weren’t so dire, he would have laughed when he saw one of these, a few turns before the tall central chamber where she had paused and debated whether to stay or continue on.

Third was Lianhua’s scent, which he picked up at the same place Li had, though it had had a little longer to fade since the dragon passed through. It was also layered with the smell of a husede and a mosui, and he noted those particular aromas down, vowing to remember them, in case he met the beings to whom they belonged. Yanshu had saved Li and Lianhua, at least temporarily, and he owed her a debt for that, but the pale mosui had also tormented Lianhua via the collar and held Li in the box until Lianhua convinced her the dragon needed food, and that was unforgivable.

Kaz barely spared a glance for the passage that now stank of smoke and fulan far more strongly than it had when Li passed by. He had removed his mask before starting up the stairs, but he didn’t think such a brief exposure would cause a problem. Li needed him, so he simply ran.

He quickly realized why the link between him and the dragon still led upward. Rather than the ceiling sloping down as the passage grew smaller, the floor angled up to meet it. There was also a subtle curvature to the walls, leading him up and around in a spiral. He soon found himself crouching as he ran, and smiled grimly as he saw the next empty alcove, a good ways down the hall. This must be where Li had watched Yanshu and the husede pass by, so he had to be close.

He watched through Li’s eyes as the mosui picked Lianhua up as if she weighed nothing, carrying her to a long, low table to one side of the room. Next to the table were rows of cubbyholes, each one containing a small basket, stone pots, or, rarely, a scroll. After dumping Lianhua onto the table, her limbs spilling awkwardly over its surface, the mosui turned to the cubbyholes and began to open one container after another, peering down at the contents as a high-pitched whistling emerged from his throat. By the time Kaz realized the being was humming, he could hear it with his own ears, as well as through Li’s.

When the slight curve of the walls and floor finally delivered him to Li, he found the dragon standing, eyes whirling with all the colors of her ki as she stared back at him. Not daring to make a sound, Kaz knelt, opening his arms, and the dragon ran to him, limping as she held one swollen paw off the ground. He knew she didn’t like to be picked up, so he waited until she climbed onto his arm, then drew that arm in and curled his body around her protectively.

Silently, the two of them sat, Li tucked close to Kaz’s chest not only by the pressure of his arms, but because her tiny form was leaning into him as if she would never move again. Through her, he heard and felt his own heartbeat, pounding against his chest, and through him she sensed the warmth of her body, the smoothness of her scales, the way she trembled as if she had been slowly freezing. Gently, he stroked her long neck, and she sighed, slim ribs heaving, until, as one, they both turned to look at the partially-open door.

Soft clattering still came from beyond, and Kaz saw, as Li couldn’t, the density of the mana roiling next to Lianhua’s faded ki. He’s strong, Kaz thought, and Li nodded, now able to see it through his eyes. While she could see some ki, mana still eluded her, and she’d had no idea just how much of a monster this creature was.

Kaz’s mind raced. How was he to get Lianhua out before the mosui completed whatever he was doing? He honestly had no idea, unless he got lucky and the thing left the room. There were two other doors, besides the one leading into the hall, so it was possible. Lianhua wasn’t that much larger than Kaz, and he was certain he could carry her away if only he were given a chance.

Creeping forward, Kaz lowered Li to the floor again, reaching out to stroke her back as he did so. He didn’t need to touch her in order to look through her eyes, but they each took comfort from the warmth emanating from that single point of contact. He turned his own gaze back to the hall, watching and listening for the approach of others, while Li’s much less obtrusive nose protruded back through the crack in the door.

The mosui seemed to have decided on a particular box, which now lay open on the table beside Lianhua. He had moved her legs out of the way, so her pose didn’t look so disturbingly unnatural, but it was still obvious that she was unconscious. At least, she was until he pulled out the bejeweled device Kaz had seen through Li and tapped it, none too gently, against her forehead.

Instantly, Lianhua’s eyes snapped open, and tension filled her body as her arm swung out, swinging toward the mosui’s human-like ear. The mosui laughed almost admiringly as he grasped the limb, stopping it without the slightest hint of effort.

Lifting the golden object, he waggled it in front of her eyes, then tapped it to her collar with a soft chiming sound. This was entirely different from the dull click Kaz had heard when anyone tapped the collars the kobolds wore, and he pulled up the memory of Lianhua’s collar, as seen through Li’s eyes when Lianhua fed the dragon earlier.

He had noted at the time that it was carved, rather than being smooth and featureless, like the one he wore. Now, he focused on those designs, and decided that it was at least possible that some of them were runes. More importantly, it had the almost glittering look of mithril, rather than the blackish-gray sheen of old silver. Returning his thoughts to the present, his ears lowered unhappily. He had managed to break his own collar, yes, but this one was obviously different, and he suspected it would be a much greater challenge. That meant he not only had to get Lianhua away, but do it quickly enough that no one had a chance to use the collar against her.

As the white-furred mosui began to speak, Kaz’s ears lifted and swiveled, though he didn’t look away from the empty passage behind them. Li, however, watched Lianhua and the bizarre being intently.

The mosui sighed as he released Lianhua’s arm, apparently satisfied that she understood that attacking him was futile. “I do wish you had a core, little human. My line has grown weak, regressing to their baser forms. The master would be displeased.”

His lip curled, and he shook his head. “Not that it matters what the master would think. Bones are allowed no opinion. Still, it would have been good to make some new mosui, and when I was a man, I would have thought you fair enough.”

His eyes traveled over her, something flashing through them that was vaguely reminiscent of the way Gaoda sometimes watched Lianhua when she wasn’t looking. It was gone again in a moment, however, and he turned his attention to the box, though he looked up when Lianhua spoke.

“You were a man?” she asked softly, edging subtly away from him.

He snorted and nodded. “Not much of one, some would say, but yes. When the master walked among the humans, I was one of his greatest servants. I wouldn’t be surprised if my name lives yet, in fact.”

His nose tilted up, and he smirked. “Though now I lie here, buried beneath earth and stone as surely as if I had died with him. My name has more life than me!” He cackled, far too amused by his poor joke, failing to notice the mingled fear and fascination that lit Lianhua’s eyes as she stared at him.

“What… What was your name?” she asked, even as her hand slid down to grasp the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip.

He smiled almost reverently as he reached into the box. “Before it was Zhangwo? My father named me Pantu. It means ‘traitor’. He meant to name me ‘rebel’, since he hoped I would grow up to lead the people in overthrowing my master. He wasn’t as well-educated as he thought, however, and he used the wrong runes. Still, it was quite appropriate in the end, wasn’t it?”

Lianhua stared at him, brow furrowed. “Pantu? That’s an unusual name. There was a Pantu Yanjiu a hundred years or so ago. He was named after Pantu Lianren, who was one of the Diushi Emperor’s wisest advisors, but other than that-”

Zhangwo’s hand froze in the act of lifting something from the box. Turning astonished eyes on Lianhua, he said, “They really do remember me? I, who in a single day yielded everything I had ever loved in exchange for one more moment of life? And they call me a ‘wise advisor’?”

Dropping whatever he held, he staggered back, Lianhua’s words succeeding where her blows had failed. He ran his hand down his face, pausing on the protruding snout, and fingered the nubs of tentacles. He began to laugh, a high, shrill sound that held more than a hint of madness.

“A wise advisor,” he cackled, throwing back his head. “And look at me now. A monster, father of a race of monsters, little better than a kobold!” Curling forward, he continued to howl, chanting the last words over and over again. “A kobold! A kobold! A kobold!”

Lianhua slithered backwards on the table, not quite daring to try to stand. Her face was pale, and her amethyst eyes blazed within it as she looked around, searching for any way out. She saw the two closed doors, and Li watched as her gaze turned to the only one that was open.

Greatly daring, Kaz turned, extending his hand through the narrow gap about halfway up. He waved once, and Li saw Lianhua’s eyes lock onto the movement. Kaz didn’t know what the human female would make of it. Would she recognize him just from his hand? The thin fur on the back wasn’t even blue at the moment, so it was doubtful.

Then the purple eyes dropped and widened, obviously noticing the glossy tip of Li’s tiny gold-scaled nose. Kaz still didn’t know if Lianhua saw the dragon or a fuergar, but either way, the combination of that nose plus a kobold’s hand, whether blue-furred or gray, had to tell her who was at the door.

With a decisive movement, Lianhua swung her legs from the table, preparing to stand, but stopped when Zhangwo’s head snapped up. His teeth were bared again, and his eyes were wild. He pointed the gold object at Lianhua, who froze, though she didn’t fall down this time. Her eyes darted around wildly, but otherwise she was still except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

“You will stay. I admit, my enjoyment of this has diminished, but the thing has been decided. I must provide results, or Nucai will be displeased. The bones have no opinions, but Nucai does, yes!”

He advanced toward Lianhua again, his momentary break entirely forgotten, but became nearly as immobile as she when the alarm began to blare again. In the cacophonous stillness, Kaz felt the floor beneath his paws tremble.