Demon of the Black Gate

Rovinkar left the Vale of the Houri well before first light. The Emerald Road crossed the Assai Desert at this thin neck: dry, flat red dirt, pebble and sand with a few withered shrubs clinging to the starving crust. He suffered through the heat of the day, and rode far into the night before reaching the fertile foothills of the Sultan Sea. The pace to Jikara would be quicker, with the trade route dotted with inns and accommodations. He stopped at few, more often keeping to the easy thoroughfare through the night.

He reached Abyssin just before they closed the gates at midnight. He knew the gate commander would notify Chenli of his passing, nor did he care. He was tired and even his horse had a weary droop. He hoped he would have some chance to rest before his inevitable meeting with the Chancellor.

The summons came at first light, a small folded parchment written in a ladies hand.

Rovinkar opened it. A short three-line poem, popular in court.

“Look to flowers ... hours and airs ... in morning prayers” was the entirety of the gilt verse.

‘Flowers’ referred to the House of Heavenly Petals in the Garden District. ‘Morning prayers’ to the traditional chanting of the Aramite priests at the 10th Bell. He had been through this before with the secretive chancellor. The Aramites were a religious sect that he knew Chenli strongly supported because of their militancy. They view themselves as warriors for their warlike god.

‘A vengeful god suits Chenli well’, thought Rovinkar.

He didn’t have much time. He dressed in a non-descript robe of beige linen, and the guhta, a rectagular head scarf favored by the traders and caravaners, for they would be plentiful in the Gardens. His passage should be made without remark.

The Garden District was nearby his own compound. He had but to pass through the Wharf Market to reach it. He joined the flow of people as they surged toward the square that was covered with tented shops that often changed daily. The trading extended into the streets and narrow alleyways beyond where the shops were piled one on another, wares sometimes dripping from the balconies above.

Just beyond the Market, the better Houses pushed against the shores of the Strait with elaborate patios and balconies for the more affluent guests. The House of Heavenly Petals abutted the narrow doors and labyrinthine nature of the market Although the first such house of one entering the district, it was many times overlooked for more exotic fare that called at the vibrant center. Its location abutting the waterfront and market made it perfect for the more discreet clientele.

He entered, the portico fashioned in layered woods and drapes. A tall, exotic woman met him immediately. Her eyes were the almond colored orbs of the east, though her skin was ebony as one from the jungle kingdoms or southern fringes of the empire. She was draped in a diaphanous caftan, the gray-blue color of ice. Thin gold rings circled her wrists, hung from her ears, and circled her long neck.

Barefoot, she led Rovinkar behind a beaded curtain and into a long corridor with the high arched ceilings that were popular in temples. Dim light danced from the oil sconces and candles and an occasional high chandelier. The woman’s gown furled about her body like night clouds in front of dark moonlight. Black hair fell and floated past her shoulders in long silky waves that invited touch. Such was Rovinkar’s preoccupation, he took scant notice of the alluring figure that preceded him.

She turned from the corridor and led him to a suite up a short flight of stairs, narrow and curving such as the door of the apartment could not be seen from below. She drew a key from the long sleeve of her gown and turned the lock. The bolt slid back.

The woman wisked the key back into the folds of her gown and left Rovinkar with only the jasmine scent of her passing. He pushed open the door. The inside was lit with more candles. A seduction scene, a little dark for his tastes, heavy oaks and wrought iron fastenings and trim. He did not come here expecting a woman in Morachin leathers to tame him, Rovinkar knew who his tormentor would be. He turned to the anteroom. Chenli sat in the nook table.

“I have heard disturbing news about the occupation of the Gate.” said Chenli without preamble, his voice harsh and low.

“There was some loss …”

“Some loss!” Chenli hissed louder. His eyes were cut in cold flint. “Losing a factory is ‘some loss’. You reckless conjurer, losing a wizard is ‘some loss’ that right now I’d be willing to sustain.” Rovinkar did not think he could shout, there was too much venom in his fierce, strangled voice. “I no longer have an army. What do you say?”

“Well, that’s true enough.” said Rovinkar. “The … spell took an unexpected turn.”

He tried to change the subject. “We have a great opportunity now you see, Chancellor. By all accounts, you can raise another army once the population hears of this … this tragic event. It wouldn’t even be difficult to turn this into Standish perfidy. Your armorers will profit, lord, as well as your carters and stocks. Why we can show that you, I mean the great Emperor Jord, was correct in this invasion. We have much to fear from these people I think.”

Chenli turned his burning gaze to Rovinkar. “Save your polemics for others, wizard. It is for our own survival that we take some advantage in this. We have to or else we will either appear like fools or hung as traitors. I can get as much simple-minded spear catchers as necessary, but I lost some valuable officers at that front. They are not easily replaced.”

Chenli peered at him, the dangerous look of a snake ready to strike.

“But what of your ‘demon’? Is it gone? Is it a threat? What for all the buggering hells have you done about it?”

“It’s gone for now. I don’t know where, but not here. It will be brought back under my dominion. However, it has come to my attention that someone else is trying to gain supremacy over it.

“WHAT!” Chenli appeared ready to lunge at him.

“That is impossible of course, it merely makes my task a little more difficult.” Rovinkar took a different tack hoping to divert Chenli’s attention. ”For our purposes, the misfortunes and chaos of this demon can be directly attributed to the Stands. It shall all work in our favor. I just need a little time to prepare.”

“You will have as much time to prepare as I take to assemble another army. I can do that with the snap of my fingers.” Chenli snapped his fingers for emphasis. “There is no shortage of fools. Can you ‘snap your fingers’ on this?”

“I will be ready, excellency.” said Rovinkar, knowing full well it would take a full season before Chenli could muster the battalions he would like.

“See that you are. Now leave. I have another appointment.” Chenli waved him away dismissively.

Rovinkar didn’t reply, just set a curt bow and left the dark chambers. It was not like Chenli to reveal any information at all. He closed the heavy oaken door. No sounds would escape such a door. He could well imagine what Chenli’s next appointment would entail. His god was a vengeful god, and his lust would be a vengeful lust.

The woman who had guided him to the recessed chamber met him as he entered the vaulted corridor. The trial of the interview over, Rovinkar took more interest as he followed her back to the front door. This time the seduction of her swaying hips, caught his eye and he knew what he needed was release from his tensions. He would arrange his own.

He stepped from the shop door and into the street, bright with sunshine and warm breeze. He took his time walking back to his compound. He must not underestimate the Chancellor’s ability to take advantage of the public opinion, and news of the disaster of the Gate was certainly filtering the waterfronts and taverns. The heralds and criers will be pronouncing the official response and so public opinion will be set. After the disaster of the Royal Shaft and yet another defeat at the gate, many could be induced to volunteer so less had to be pressed into service. Rovinkar already knew Chenli had hired mercenaries from the south.

Yes, Chenli could snap his fingers, but Rovinkar could as well. With the demon once again in hand, his power in directing the affairs of the empire would be complete. Even Chenli would defer to his decisions.

It would take nearly a fortnight to be ready for his final calling of the demon. It must be done, and he regretted the momentary lose of command that allowed the demon to escape in the first place. After this last encounter, it was apparent that the demon was not only out of his control, but under the control of another.

The red-haired woman. A witch of great power.

He thought he knew all of the ancient cults and rites. He was unaware of any stronger sorceries than the arts that he and a very select brethren practiced. It was a rare and secretive conclave. He had to regain control, and there would be no one from his brotherhood that could aid him. These practices were beyond them all. Yet was some woman out there who had the demon doing her bidding. He had to match her strength.

He must pull the demon into the void himself.