Wrath of the Blue Lady by Mel Odom

dark maroon brocaded robes hugged his bony frame. Dark hair framed a withered face scarred by the pox. His nose was prominent between his close-set sunken eyes. He carried a staff with a purple stone at the tip.
    “You’re good, thief, but you didn’t find all my alarms.”
    Shang-Li forced himself to remain calm. He felt like he’d locked gazes with a viper. Kouldar’s stare was cold and impersonal. He imagined the room in his mind, estimating the strides it would take to span the distances, the moves he’d have to make, and the cover he could seek. His chances of completing that were so small he didn’t even count them.
    Boldly, Kouldar strode toward him. The purple stone at the top of his staff glittered as it caught the light hovering in the air.
    Shang-Li said nothing. He took a firmer grip on the book and rolled the pendant chain between his fingers to take up slack.
    Kouldar took another step forward and smiled knowingly. “The scribe that was here. He was one of you meddling monks, wasn’t he?”
    Instead of answering, Shang-Li drew in his breath and charged his lungs. Breathing is always a part of readiness. The monks at the Standing Tree Monastery had taught him that as far back as he could remember. No matter what you do, no matter the challenges you face, breathing should always be your first concern.
    Kouldar trailed fingers along the spines of the books nearest him. “I thought the scribe showed too much interest in some of the books I had him copy. I baited him, but he was very well trained. For a spy.”
    “He wasn’t a spy.” Shang-Li shifted slightly, falling into rhythm with the wizard’s movements, prepared to leap in an instant. “He was merely a scribe.”
    “But he felt he owed you an allegiance.” Kouldar trailed a covetous hand along a panther-headed statue of a winged woman. “I have studied that book you have in your hand.”
    Unconsciously, Shang-Li tightened his grip on the book. No matter what, he wasn’t going to leave the journal behind.
    “I suspected there was more to that journal than I perceived.” Kouldar shrugged. “I was hoping to coerce the scribe to tell me all he knew. Without having to kill him or tip my hand that I had knowledge about that book.” He scowled. “Evidently the man’s sense of self-preservation was far stronger than his nerve. If I had known that he belonged to the Standing Tree Monastery as you do, I would have acted differently.”
    “I haven’t ever heard of that monastery.”
    “Liar.” The wizard raised a hand and spoke a single word.
    Heat seared Shang-Li’s forearms. He struggled to keep them at his sides. A moment later, the tattoos on his
    forearms glowed bright green and showed through his shirt sleeves. Both forearms held images of mighty oak trees with widespread branches and gnarled roots. Carp swam in a pool beneath the one on the left and a dragon lay curled around the one on the right. The symbols of the Standing Tree Monastery.
    “You’re one of those cursed monks. Always so secretive and stingy with your knowledge.” Kouldar paused. “What is in that book that you find so important?”
    Shang-Li didn’t bother to lie. The wizard wouldn’t have believed him. Cautiously, Shang-Li slid the fingers of the hand that held the necklace inside the folds of his blouse. The sharp points of the throwing stars held there grazed his fingertips.
    “Your insolence doesn’t matter. Neither does your naive resolve.” Kouldar smiled again and the expression held only cruelty. “You will talk before I’m through with you. Every secret you know, every hidden thing you think you know, will be mine for the taking.”
    With effort, Shang-Li took a deep breath and throttled the fear threatening to break loose inside him. The naked threat of the wizard’s power hung in the air. He deposited the necklace into the loose folds of his blouse, and slid a half dozen throwing stars into his callused hand. The blouse masked his movements but