Bone Lord 4, стр. 61
It was easy to find some rope to bind Zhenwan’s hands with, and with his sunburned face and haggard looks from his ordeal in the dinghy a week earlier, he certainly looked like a bandit, even if he was far too skinny to look at all threatening. I didn’t have space in the little pocket of my monk’s robes to hide the Dragon Gauntlet, so Zhenwan put it in the satchel he always carried over his shoulder.
The Blind Monks’ meeting spot, Zhenwan had learned, was in a secret chamber beneath an old temple in the heart of Gongxiong. A secret pattern knocked on the rear altar would gain us entry.
The temple was quite different from our Prandish temples. The eaves of the roof were curved, even more so than other on Yengish buildings. The structure was painted in bright tones of yellow and red, and there was a lot of intricate, gleaming bronze and brass artwork everywhere. Tattered tapestries inscribed with ancient scriptures in the Yengish pictographic script hung from the walls. The pillars which held the roof up were carved in the likeness of stylized dragons, as were the plinths scattered across the temple, illuminated by red candles on every flat surface.
The temple was clearly not abandoned or ruined, but it had seen better days, and was empty at this hour. We walked to the rear altar, and I noticed a plain white marble slab on the ground.
“That looks like a secret door to me,” I said, and knocked on the marble slab in the pattern the old servant had described.
After a few seconds, the slab rumbled and gradually slid across the floor, revealing a stairway. Beginning the charade, I grabbed Zhenwan by the back of his neck and manhandled him down the stairs, taking care to not actually hurt him. We entered a narrow passage, lit by burning torches on the walls, then the slab closed above us with a rumble. We turned the corner at the end and found ourselves facing a large chamber, where a group of yellow-robed Blind Monks were sitting in a circle, each man seated in the lotus position.
A monk barked out something in Yengish at me and Zhenwan. My eyes were drawn to a jade necklace on his chest, and I figured this marked him as their leader. Zhenwan replied in a mock-frightened tone, jabbering on and feeding them the story we’d cooked up about him being a spy for the Emperor.
The exchange in Yengish between this monk, who seemed to be the leader of the group, and Zhenwan, continued for a few minutes. It sounded like the monk was interrogating Zenwhan. I began to grow impatient; we’d gained access to the meeting, they weren’t about to throw us out now or run away, so it was time to get down to business and reveal myself.
“What are they saying?” I whispered to Zhenwan, my voice low enough that nobody could possibly have heard it, or so I’d thought.
“Why are you speaking the Prandish tongue to this rogue, brother?” the leader asked me. “Even though we do not have eyes, it is plain to us that this foul spy is as Yengish as any of us—although, to be honest, your Prandish accent sounds remarkably perfect for a Yengishman.”
“And you speak Prandish well too, my friend,” I said to him. “But I’m no Yengishman, and this man here with me is neither a spy nor a rogue.”
The monks sprang to their feet and jumped into combat stances.
“So, two enemies have infiltrated our secret meeting,” the leader said. “We cannot kill you two, of course, but we can make you both regret the moment you chose to engage in this foolishness. Vile imposters, prepare to taste the righteous wrath of the Order of Blind Monks!”
“We’re not enemies,” I said. “We’re allies. I don’t want to have to kick devout men’s asses. Let’s talk this over, before—”
With a shrill cry, the monk nearest to me launched himself through the air in a perfect flying kick. My reflexes were triggered fast enough for me to duck under the kick, but Zhenwan wasn’t quite so quick to respond. Hell, even most trained fighters wouldn’t have been. Before Zhenwan registered what was happening, the flying monk’s foot slammed into his chest and hurled him through the air. He slammed with a crunching thump against the far wall and flopped onto the floor, dazed. The Dragon Gauntlet was trapped in his satchel under his body, so that option of ending this brawl before it started was now out the window.
If these monks wanted a fight, they would get one.
“All right,” I said as the other monks closed in on me. “No more Mr. Nice God. Nobody attacks my friends and gets away with it, blind or not.”
Two more launched themselves into the air with flying kicks. I dived forward, cutting a curving arc between them. They both missed me, one sailing over me and the other going under my dive. I hit the ground and rolled forward. I jumped to my feet and leaped back to avoid a downward-chopping axe kick from the head monk. The impact of his strike smashed a small crater into the stone floor.
“Is that the best you can do?” I asked as I sprang to my feet, fists balled, legs bouncy and ready to jump or kick in a millisecond. I could have drawn my weapons to kill them, but I needed these guys alive.
“Your arrogance will be your undoing, foreign devil!” the head monk yelled. Then he shouted something in Yengish, and all the monks came charging at me at once.
I bobbed and ducked and weaved, narrowly dodging three lighting-fast typhoon kicks aimed at my head by three separate monks. Fists like maces crunched into my ribs from two others though; as fast