Chapter One: You Seem To Attract Strays (In which we meet our young protagonist.)
In the early morning light, Kathmandu woke up. Vendors prepared their carts, each one filed with local delicacies and flimsy trinkets meant to fool tourists. Workers ran to and from shops, avoiding the unsavoury alleyways. Street rats crept out from their nighttime haunts, prepared to pilfer anything of value from unsuspecting citizens.
Rising with the rest of its city, a large monastery sat between countless restaurants, begging circles, and one place of worship it dwarfed beyond comparison. This was Kamar-Taj.
Avoided by many, the locals thought it to be a place of great mystery and terrible power. Rumours, for once, that held their truths—though they had their fair share if non-believers.
Meditating in her private quarters, the Ancient One could sense that young Karl Mordo waited outside. Though having been here for over a year, his presence still teemed a certain... anger.
She called for him to enter. He did so, unsure of whether or not to close the door behind him.
To greet him properly, the Ancient One rose to her feet and inclined her head. He seemed surprised by that. He thought she bowed to no one—especially not an acolyte as new as he.
He returned the gesture; in his case, it was a complete bow.
"Mordo, is it?" He nodded. "We haven't spoken in some time." Another nod, this time accompanied by a quirk of the mouth. When she paused, he spoke.
"Not since the day I arrived, actually."
The Ancient One resisted the urge to smile. So it has been that long. Understandably, many people were affronted by her lack of immediate favouritism. She greeted them on their admission, and rarely spoke afterwards until they passed their second year.
Unless they were of special interest to her. She had to admit, that Mordo, with his surges of anger, would soon need her interest.
"Of course. Walk with me?" She held out her hand.
She closed the door behind them, hand already reaching into her robes to withdraw the light, wooden fan. He watched as she fiddled, turning it over and over in her palm.
They walked in peaceful silence through the old, panelled halls and out to underneath an overhang. Until they were perched on the steps above a courtyard, the Ancient One did not speak.
"I presume you need to tell me something?" she prompted.
He stepped forward and faced her, back stiff with the rehearsal only a soldier would know.
"Yes. I was sent to find you because..." She looked at him. He continued, "Because we found something. Some... one."
Stationed on the edge of a cliffside, the garden overlooked a small valley within Kathmandu.
It was tended with the utmost care by varying shifts of trainees. Most found the weeding and planting difficult work in the hot sun, but all preferred it to the scullery duty often doled out as a punishment. Some occasionally put in extra hours—usually if they were trying to get on Wong's good side.
If they were lucky, they wouldn't end up trampling his prized persimmons.
As Mordo and the Ancient One neared the gardens, she observed the positively sour look on the man's face.
"Wong," she said, placing her hands behind her back. "Mordo has just informed me of what you found. How are you faring?"
"Well enough, Ancient One," he grumbled. "Though I'd be better off if it weren't for our little visitor."
Until he stepped aside, one wouldn't have been able to see the child. And even as he did, she held onto his leg, whining incessantly.
Mordo and the Ancient One stared. One in prolonged bemusement, the other in curiosity.
Wong shook his leg, attempting to break the girl's grip. A difficult feat at best, with his hands still at his sides.
"As you can see-" he gave her another shake, "-she is rather persistent!"
The girl let out a small wail, fingers forever clutched to his leg.
While Mordo stared in silent confusion, the Ancient One stepped forward. She knelt down on one knee, reaching out for the girl.
"Come now, Wong: stop that. Can't you see she's upset?"
She didn't know why he was acting so grumpy. Although that was his usual state of mind, it seemed ever more obtrusive this morning.
"Here, come to me!" A kind expression on her face, the Ancient One motioned for the girl to walk to her.
Intrigued by this woman in her sunny, yellow robes, the girl let go of Wong's leg. He sighed in relief.
As she stumbled forward on her bare feet, the Ancient One assessed the age and appearance of their, as Wong had put it, 'little visitor.'
She was small, with plump knees that barely seemed to carry her. Wide-eyed and silent but for her cries, her age could be guessed at around three.
By the look of her hair and tattered clothes she belonged in a street—but her healthy complexion and weight negated that thought. Furthermore, street orphans—or anyone for that matter—couldn't just stumble into Kamar-Taj. They had to be invited.
"Ah! There we go." A stubby brown hand clamped onto the Ancient One's fingers as the girl fell into her embrace.
She helped her stand again, and once the girl was firmly situated, the Ancient One let go of her tiny fingers.
"There, you see, Wong? All that's required is some-" The girl made quick work of hugging her leg, happy with the new friend she'd discovered.
Wong's face held an unimpressed look that said, See?
Eyes closed, the girl pushed her face into the Ancient One's leg.
"We—I—found her in the apple tree," Wong said. "She had nearly eaten an entire bushel before we were able to safely manoeuvre her down."
The Ancient One suspected he wished some sort of payment for the unsanctioned loss of the fruit. But as they were not monsters, another form of retribution would have to be decided upon regarding his apples.
"Well, I'm sure she didn't mean to," the Ancient One consoled.
Wong bowed his head, knowing her words to be true.
"Perhaps we could bring the child inside," Mordo suggested. "She can be fed a proper meal and we can discuss the possibilities of how she was let in."
"Possibilities, yes!" The Ancient One turned with some difficulty, then extracted the child from her leg. The chance of someone letting her in and not triggering one of their alarms seemed very unlikely.
The Ancient One watched, interested and amused, as the girl skipped underneath the arch to the inside. She barely contained a laugh as Wong, at first resistant, but then with a resigned sigh, let her hold his hand as he and Mordo took her to the kitchens.
The idea of Wong quickly forgiving her for pillaging his garden seemed unlikely. But the Ancient One knew he had a kind heart. However, the possibility that she got into Kamar Taj (and past all of their mystical defences) of her own will seemed just as befuddling.
Weapons at the ready, the two men took their beginning stances.
Mordo, tall and muscled, shifted comfortably on top of the cobblestones. Imbued with a spell of momentary levitation, the Vaulting Boots of Valtorr gave him the high ground on any terrain. He faced the cliffside, therefore forced to squint to his opponent's left. A disadvantage on today, the hottest of the summer. Already he was sweating to soak his sparring clothes.
Wong stayed completely still, sturdy and heavily-built, his knees bent in preparation for Mordo's swing. His weapon of choice—the Wand of Watoomb—fit snugly in his right hand. His left remained empty until he would conjure a shield. The sun was at his back—for the moment, as Mordo would likely try to turn their positions. Wong leaned to his left, ridding Mordo of any shade he might have hoped to gain. He knew Mordo would strike first. As was his nature, inspired by a fiery upbringing.
Ten feet from their sparring circle, a child sat on the monastery steps. Her brown face was shielded from the sun by a red headscarf, her eyes fixed on the open book laid across her lap.
As Mordo lunged towards Wong (he always went first, like Wong always chose scissors), Jan looked up from the text. Maxim's Primer—presented in the original Sanskrit—was giving her a headache. She much preferred to watch them spar, as she was seldom let into the ring herself.
Following Mordo's lunge, Wong jumped away to his right. He was agile, despite his girth. Mordo swung outwards, immediately blocked by Wong. Their staffs clanged, and the courtyard hummed with the clashing of mystic energy. Jan grinned in excitement.
Their fight evolved into a series of spontaneous strikes and blocks, the bearer of each changing with every turn. Jan watched with interest. Though she knew it was unlikely for them to get hurt (it was only a sparring match), each time their weapons collided, her heart lurched.
Wong created a shield of green energy, holding it above his head as Mordo made use of his boots. Jan didn't let herself get distracted by the swirling patterns of the magic: years ago they had taught her to avoid being sucked in by the beauty and instead focus on its many uses.
Years ago... and she was still only eight, anxiously awaiting the day when the Ancient One would allow her to join the ranks of the other students.
Wong had been so secretive regarding her eighth birthday... Jan had been sure they were going to announce it then. But that was two months ago, and still, she had nothing but secluded, private lessons.
Sparks flew as Mordo's staff connected with Wong's shield. The later grunted as his magic dissolved into formless energy, out of his grasp to manipulate. Before he could wield his own weapon, Mordo's was at his throat. Both of them panted heavily.
"You've been spending too much time in the garden," Mordo said, grinning.
Wong sighed and yielded with a wave of his hand. He planned on retorting in some clever way, but paused at the sound of applause.
Jan clapped, her infectious smile fixed in place.
Staying in the sun for a few moments more, Mordo and Wong each gave their spectator a small bow.
"So cool!" she squealed.
They retrieved some water and then sat down on either side of her. Mordo flopped onto his back, closing his eyes. Wong chose to look over the text she was reading.
"Maxim's Primer?" he questioned. Jan's head bobbed up and down eagerly. "And how is that going for you?"
Her face fell. "It's going okay. I mean, the translating is easy enough—Sanskrit isn't all dead! But I'm having difficulty with the writer's prose..."
Wong raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to rest an elbow on his knee. "His prose?"
"How he writes," Jan elaborated. "It's just so... boring. -And I know its necessary!" she added, seeing the look on his face. "But all I've done is read, and study, and read." Jan gestured weakly. "Am I ever going to do any of this stuff?"
Mordo barked out a hearty laugh. "The child wants to know when she'll start astral projection!" He continued to laugh when Jan hit his chest.
"Quiet, both of you," Wong whispered. Their eyes followed to where he was looking.
Jan's heart leapt in excitement. "Tao!" She moved to go to the Ancient One, but stopped. Now was not the time. Her back was to them, arm extended, showing someone the courtyard. The entirety of her attention seemed fixated on the person she toured around Kamar Taj.
Jan sat back down between Mordo and Wong, huffing dejectedly. "She was away for weeks, and now..."
Wong patted her arm. "She'll only be occupied for a little time, songbird." His glance to Mordo said otherwise. "The man she speaks to came from far away for his healing, but I know she'll require the assistance of others during his induction."
Mordo took the hint and leapt to his feet. Brushing his hands off, he gave Jan's head an affectionate tussle.
Readjusting her headscarf, she pouted up at him, peeved, though not truly angry.
When Mordo trotted over to the Ancient One, the visitor reached out his hand. Jan furrowed her brow at the foreign gesture of acquaintance. She considered bowing much more appropriate.
The visitor was dressed in tattered civilian clothes, his dark hair tied back in a knot. His shoulders slanted in a way that suggested a great personal defeat. Jan wondered what he had come out of to end up in Kamar-Taj.
Wong noticed her gradual lack of interest in Maxim's Primer. He too got to his feet and waited for Jan to stop staring.
"What's his name?" she asked.
Wong shook his head. "I do not know."
Jan tucked the heavy book under one arm and got up from the step. "I think I'm done with this—for today." She wanted to learn as much about the soul as she could.
Wong held out his hand. She took it, her tiny fingers linking perfectly within his own.
"All right, songbird, let's put it back before Masego finds out its missing."
As he led her back inside, Wong couldn't help but look at the stranger and wonder: what would he contribute during his time in Kamar Taj?