Sword and Sorceress XXVII (16 page)

She saw a mass of treasure, piled
haphazardly about. As caravan guards they had seen valuable goods, but never
before in such quantity. Piled to the rafters were stacked rolls of silk, gold
and silver scroll rollers, ornaments, and bullion, and boxes of exotic
hardwoods inset with jade, pearls, and coral. Wrapped bundles and leather sacks
hinted at even greater treasures.

“What I would give to be in on the
sacking of this place,” Biao Mei breathed. A sheepish look appeared on his face.
“If it were not so holy,” he added.

“Your piety is reassuring,” she
muttered. She searched the room, looking for any scrolls that might have
belonged to Kalsang Rampa. She had learned to read some of the cursive writing
used in the mountains but the labels on the scrolls were mostly in metaphors.
Without a deeper understanding of the theology of the mountains they were
meaningless. She mouthed a phrase totally inappropriate to the sanctity of the
place and looked about. At a far wall the two cats were nosing about at the
base of a screen. Puzzled she went over.

Behind the screen a small tapestry
covered the wall. As she examined the scene, apparently depicting a battle with
demons, it ruffled, as if by some breeze. She pulled it aside to reveal a dark entrance.
Biao Mei had come to stand by her.

“That is interesting,” he said.

“It is,” she said, wondering if they
should explore it. But before she could decide the two cats leaped past her and
into the darkness. Muttering another colorful metaphor she followed.

Just inside they found a basket of dry
wood staves suitable for torches. They lit two from the butter lamp and
followed the cats down the narrow defile, apparently a crack in the rock of the
mountainside. Ahead they could see the passage widen. As they stepped out into
the open space they stopped, Lin Mei gasping.

If the treasure in the Norbu Pema had
been a surprise, this was a shock. The cavern was large enough to hold the main
temple building. And piled high within were stacks of treasure that made those
in the Norbu Pema pale by comparison. Not even the treasure room of the Son of
Heaven could compare. Their practiced eyes catalogued their find. Wealth from
all the lands they knew about was piled high around them, and much they did not
recognize.

“What is this place?” Biao Mei breathed.

“No mere monastery,” Lin Mei replied in
a whisper. Her mind tried to make sense of it all. Before them was wealth
accumulated over centuries from the richest kingdoms of the earth, donations
from the devout as well as profits of astute trading. Her earlier realization
that the monks were the true rulers of these lands came back to her. Here was
wealth to hire armies, bribe rulers, and upset the balance of trade across the
world. All held and managed by monks who spent their days in prayer and
meditation in cells bare of any comfort but a small mat to sit on. She wondered
how many other monasteries held such wealth.

And power, she reminded herself. Wealth
and power always went together. She wondered if the rulers of the lands knew of
this, the khans, kings, Iskanderi, and assorted other lords of the temporal
world. She doubted it. Not even the most devout piety would stay their greed if
they knew.

With a chill she realized the
implications. If the Emperor, and his advisors, learned of this, the Empire’s
armies would march west, under whatever pretext. The Tifun Khans would march
north to defend their lands and seize the treasures of the monasteries. And the
nomad khans would lead their hordes south to defend their faith and enrich
themselves as well. The lands of the far west, their home and their world,
would be wracked by war for generations.

A hint of danger crossed her mind. The
cats, indifferent to the wealth about them, were eyeing the dark entry way
behind them. Lin Mei reached out with her mind and melded her senses with
theirs. She heard the sounds of men moving about, and scented the smell of
unwashed bodies and rice wine.

“Nomads,” she whispered. She heard a
click as Biao Mei loosened his sword in the scabbard. She looked about. The
cavern was large, but the stacks of goods piled high about made narrow
passageways that could be defended by two swords. Even so, if they had to fight
the nomad’s greater numbers would be decisive. But maybe they would not find
the entrance to the cavern.

That was not to be. Lin Mei’s face
hardened as she heard shouts, and the sound of men coming down. She looked at
her brother. He nodded and they drew their blades. Suddenly they saw a torch-bearing
swordsman before them. More followed. Grins split the nomad’s faces as they saw
they had only Lin Mei and her brother to deal with. Lin and Biao backed toward
a narrow space between stacked bales of silk where they might sell their lives
more dearly. With their faces lit by the torch bearer in the lead the nomad’s
looked demonic as they advanced. To add to the moment the cats were hissing and
spitting in agitation. Suddenly she grinned. A silent command sent them to the
top of the silk bales.

“Our torches,” she said. “Toss them!” As
an example she sent hers over the heads of the nomads to fall on the sand
behind them. In sudden comprehension Biao did also. They were now in
semi-darkness. Lin Mei’s mind reached out once more, pleased as she sensed that
Biao had caught her intention.

She was caught in a wave of dizziness as
she adjusted to what she was seeing. Part of her was still seeing their
attackers as they advanced in darkness, but she was also seeing them from
above, in that eerie yellowish light that accompanied the cat’s sight whenever she
joined with them. Then the dizziness passed, and she was clear headed once
more.

“Yah!” Biao Mei yelled, advancing and
thrusting with his sword into the throat of the torch-bearing nomad before
them. He fell, tripping one of his companions. Lin Mei thrust her own sword at
the back of his neck as he fell forward.

And suddenly they were in a savage,
frenzied fight, as they fought with cat sight melded with human sight against
foes fighting in darkness. In the space between the stacked bales there was
little room for the nomad fighters to swing their short curved swords and axes,
but Lin Mei and her brother were able to use their swords to thrust and parry.
Bodies fell before them.

But more came, and Lin Mei and her
brother were slowly being pushed back. Still they fought on with grim
determination, but it was only a matter of time. Already they could see other
nomads clambering up on the bales to try and get above and behind them. Lin Mei
paused for a moment to wipe sweat from her eyes, breathing heavily. Above she
saw a swarthy face leering down at them. Others joined him atop the bales.

Then a snarling roar split the darkness.
Stunned, everyone stopped fighting. Above her she saw the nomads’ mouths gape
open in surprise.

A dark form jumped over then to land
atop the bales. A swipe of a paw sent the nomads tumbling down onto their
fellows, red spurting from gaping wounds. A massive head tilted down to look at
Lin Mei for a moment, and then the tiger leaped forward to land among the
nomads. Claws ripped men open and jaws crushed their skulls as the giant cat
tore through the horde. More than faith defended Taktsang Palphug.

#

They were once more in the room where
they had first met Narrayam Dorjhe, once more sitting before him. He took a sip
of tea from his cup. Cups of tea were on trays before them, untouched. If he
was offended by their lack of manners he gave no sign. Lin Mei eyed him
carefully. They had been allowed to keep their weapons, but that gave no
comfort. They were in danger, and no number of blades would help.

They knew too much. They had seen the
power and wealth of the monasteries. The world would rock with war if that
knowledge were to be let loose.

“Kalsang Rampa and Kunchen Lobsan served
two masters,” Narrayam Dorjhe said softly. “That is a bad position to be in.”

“The Tifun Empire was the other one?”
Lin Mei asked quietly.

“That and the Bon faith,” the lama
replied. “The Bon clergy resent that the teachings of Enlightenment have come
into lands they once held to their own faith, and the khans distrust our ties
to lands beyond their grasp.”

“So he and Kunchen Lobsan were the ones
who reached out the nomad khans, with promise of wealth to lure them here,” Lin
Mei ventured. The lama smiled thinly.

“They are together once more.” Lin Mei
did not ask what that meant.

“Tenzin was working for me, helping set
a trap,” he went on. “The sacred scrolls Kalsang Rampa and Kunchen Lobsan sent
to Chuluun Battar contained a message informing him of the wealth to be found
here. Chuulun Battar brought a small party disguised as an honor guard for
Tenzin Yonten. He apparently felt he needed no more. To reach Taktsang Palphug
they crossed the Ang-Xi Corridor. Once they learned of what they could gain by
sacking the monasteries, nothing, not even their faith, would have stopped
other nomad bands from coming. The Tifun Khans believe they can stop any
invaders once they reach the mountains, and maybe they can, but the Son of
Heaven’s ties to the west would have been cut. Tifun would have what it has
long desired.” He tilted his head slightly to look at her. With a shock she
recognized the look. She had seen it the night before looking down at her. He
chuckled.

“There are some of us, here and in other
places,” he said.

“We have heard stories,” she whispered.

“People always tell stories. Sometimes
they are true.”

“Tiger-men,” Biao Mei said in a low
voice.

“Some are wolves, among other forms,”
the lama said, stopping to take another sip of tea. “But I wish to discuss you.
In particular, what you will report. Do not dissemble. I am aware of your true
calling in the service of the Emperor.”

Lin Mei looked sideways at her brother.
He gave a look she knew. They had long ridden together in dangerous lands and
understood each other. He would follow her lead.

“We came to meet Kalsang Rampa,” she
said carefully. “We met briefly when we arrived, but he was killed by a tiger
before a proper meeting could take place. After investigation of the situation
here we conclude that an alliance between Tifun and the nomad tribes is
unlikely.” The lama smiled.

“It is,” he agreed. He took another sip
of tea. “We keep the balance among the powers,” he went on. “Carefully measured
gifts appease the greed of the rulers, our wealth maintains the balance of
trade, lessening want, and our teachings of peace assuage the adventuresome
spirit of the young warriors. There are occasional small wars, but that is all.
But tell me, what of you?”

“We are servants of the Empire,” she
said, carefully measuring every word. “Our reports serve the interests of the
Son of Heaven, and the Empire. Peace is in the interests of the Empire.” The
lama nodded approvingly. He had no fear they would say too much. The
monasteries had a long reach.

And with that a grim peace settled into
her. They had lived most of their lives beyond the Empire’s borders, holding to
a belief that they would someday return to claim what had been unjustly taken
from them. That had been a childish fantasy. Too much time had passed and what
had happened in their childhood had been forgotten as new political realities
hardened, and those in power strengthened their grip. More, they had lived too
long in the western lands. Their thoughts, customs, and habits were no longer
what they had been as children.

Ro Min was a loyal servant of the Son of
Heaven. She would report fully what they told her—even if it meant war, the
loss of the Western lands, and her own eventual death. But Lin Mei and Biao Mei
had left the empire. The western lands were now their home. They might continue
to undertake missions for the Empire, but it would be as hired swords.

“I will not keep you,” Narrayam Dorjhe
said. “And it is time for my meditation.” Lin and Biao Mei bowed low and left.

Outside their horse waited, saddled and
ready, along with two more pack horses with heavy bundles. The cats rode atop
the packs with the ease of long experience. The monks holding the reins
explained they were gifts from the abbot, in appreciation for their aid.
And
for our silence
, Lin Mei thought. She thanked them and they mounted and
rode out.

Outside on the road leading down she
spoke to her brother. “I will make the report to Ro Min,” she said. He nodded.

“You usually do,” he said. “You
understand matters of intrigue better than I do.” She looked at him.

“I would not say that,” she said. They
had reached the bottom. Ahead lay paths leading east and west. “Let us go home
brother,” she said. They turned west and rode.

****

Author’s Note:

I’ve been a big fan of
the Modesty Blaise books since high school, and had read all the books, as well
as the short stories, but I had never read the comic strips since they were
printed in the U.K. When I found there were compilations of the strips at the
local library I checked them out and began to read them. One was
The Black Pearl
.

Like my story, it
takes place at the Taktsang Palphug Monastary. For the purposes of my story I
invented a cave that runs deep into the mountain. The Black Pearl also has a
cave that runs deep into the mountain. For the purposes of my story I included
a were-tiger. In Peter O’Donnell’s story the Black Pearl is a Himalayan Black
Bear. I was surprised as anything when I finished the story, which I know I had
never read before. While I would never compare myself with Peter O’Donnell, I
was struck by the similarities. By the way, in
The Black Pearl
, the bear
takes a liking to Willie Garvin, Modesty’s right-hand man, which is only
natural since he usually gets the girls.