Twenty-three
Bane feared that he might be unable to make the final fifty meters to the monastery door. Every muscle and joint in his body cried out, and the cold made each breath through the mask a chore, his lungs burning. The frigid weather’s sting—worsened by the cutting wind—streamed tears from his eyes, instantly chapping the small bit of skin above the mask. The heavy scarf and woolen facemask increased the claustrophobia of the apparatus. The other men in the group trudged just ahead of him—three other apprentices and Xing Lao. Only Lao moved with any sign of energy and endurance; indeed, he walked across the packed snow as effortlessly as he had a week ago when they had first left the monastery, a fact that made Bane both admire and despise him.
At long last, just before he was certain that his joints would finally seize completely, they reached the door. Once inside, sighs of relief from all of the apprentices drew a displeased glance from Lao. Bane wanted to throw the little slave-driving bastard down the mountain. Instead, he focused upon the warmth and relief provided by the anteroom as he used his back and shoulder to close the heavy door behind them. They all swayed upon their feet as if in disbelief that they had made it back, their breathing still labored.
When they started to remove their heavy packs, Lao barked, “No! Carry them to your rooms.”
The thought of lugging the packs even one more step was torture enough, but to contemplate the dead weight accompanying them all the way through the monastery and then up the flights of stairs to their rooms drew groans. Of course, this garnered only another look of disgust from their instructor.
Bane caught sight of a figure just beyond the anteroom, seated among the glowing candles in the meditation room. He blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyes from the blinding white of the outside world to the dim black and orange of the adjoining room. Was his vision playing a cruel trick upon him or was that indeed a familiar shape? He peered closer.
“Jin!”
Whack! Lao’s walking stick slapped against Bane’s gut, its pain mainly absorbed by his parka and his brace, but it kept him from barging into the meditation room. Lao gave Bane a severe shake of his head. Temujin had not moved an inch or opened his eyes. Of course. Bane frowned; he should have known better than to disturb anyone meditating, even his long-lost friend. But it was hard to dismiss nearly three months of worry over the Mongol’s fate.
Lao scowled and gestured for Bane to continue to the dormitory, then followed him close behind as if to keep his student from doubling back.
The climb up to his room was excruciating, but Bane knew Lao was watching from below to make sure he did not attempt to remove his pack. Just as he reached the level of his room, the door to Talia’s room opened, as if she had been expecting him at any moment.
“Bane!” she cried, her face alight with happiness.
“Talia, you are not dismissed!” Sangye called fruitlessly after her, but she was already halfway around the circumference of the catwalk.
Quickly Bane tried to struggle out of the pack before she reached him but succeeded only in freeing one arm before Talia leapt into his awkward embrace. He staggered backward against the frame of his door. If not for that, the cursed pack would have sent them both tumbling.
Talia bestowed rapid-fire kisses to his mask. “I missed you so much! And Jin is back! I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
“I know, I know,” he laughed. “I saw him.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Not yet.”
“I haven’t either. Sangye wouldn’t let me.”
When he saw Talia’s tutor waiting impatiently in the doorway to her room, arms crossed against his barrel-chest, a mild glower showing his displeasure with his errant student, Bane said, “We’ll talk to Jin later. Now go back to your studies before your father sees you out of your room.”
“He’s with Damien.”
Bane tried to hide his distaste at this news; he had grown accustomed to the American’s absence. “When did he get back?”
“Yesterday.”
With a grunt, Bane took up his pack again. “Go on back to Sangye. I will see you at supper.”
Reluctantly Talia obeyed, and he watched her until she returned to her tutor. Before she stepped beyond Sangye, she tossed a final grin back in his direction, warming Bane inside and out. Sangye gave Bane a slight, satisfied nod before following Talia and closing the door. Bane smiled to himself, the pleasure of returning home heightening. Home. He used to think of the pit as his home, but the League and the monastery had successfully assumed that distinction. Once in his room and free of the pack, he felt even better.
Dressed once again in the simple monastic garb of every day, he sprawled on his bed. A fresh supply of opiate crystals surged the drug through the small tubes from the rear canister. He breathed deeply, stared up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes, reflected upon the past week spent in the mountains. Lao had taught them how to climb and how to rappel, though of course Bane had knowledge of both, thanks to his experiences with the prison shaft. But he quickly learned to respect the snow and ice, two elements completely foreign to him and ever changing, not constant like stone. During the week, he—like the other students—suffered his share of slips and falls, saved only by his harness and safety line, moments that sent a surge of terror through him. Yet the fear lasted only a moment, and afterwards he enjoyed the rush of adrenaline that the incidents stirred, and he found himself taking risks that the other students feared to attempt.
Lao had schooled them in survival tactics, from finding fuel for fires on the seemingly barren slopes to keeping extremities free from frostbite. They also honed their skills with a rifle, both on inanimate targets and upon wild game that Lao introduced them to, such as snowcock, tahr, and bharal. Bane learned how to dress and cook what they shot. They killed wolves as well and were taught how to skin them for their thick fur coats; these had been carried back to the monastery with them, along with the extra meat. All would share in the feast tonight, and Bane smiled at the thought of everyone hearing that he had been the best shot among the group. He would tell Akar of how he had thought of the boy and his father when he had killed the first wolf. The more helpless of the creatures, such as tahr, Bane took little pleasure in killing, but when the wolf had come into his sights, he had felt no remorse in pulling the trigger, especially when he thought of Akar spending the rest of his life mutilated.
He was eager to see Temujin, to learn about the Mongol’s quest as well as to tell him about all that he had learned since he had left. Surely Temujin’s return signified a decision to remain with the League. And though Bane had come to respect and appreciate Lao, he preferred Temujin as his instructor.
Exhaustion claimed Bane before he could leave his bed, and by the time he awoke, Talia was at his door, telling him that he was late for supper.
“Did you behave while I was gone?” he asked as he carried her piggyback down the stairs.
“Of course.”
“No doubt only because your father is here,” he teased.
She laughed and reached around to cover his eyes.
He stopped. “Are you trying to kill us both?”
“Walk the rest of the way without looking,” she challenged.
“You know I can. But if your father sees me doing so with you on my back…”
Talia giggled and lifted her hands, then kissed his neck once. “I missed you so much, habibi.”
“And I missed you, little mouse.” He continued on his way, breathing fully and deeply to draw in the welcome scent of warm food, his stomach growling loud enough for Talia to hear.
When they reached the common room, everyone was already at table, including Temujin. When he turned his gaze to Bane, the Mongol smiled, but the happy expression could not mask the fatigue that hung over the small man like a cloak, his face thinner than Bane remembered, with shadowy lines under his eyes, his shoulders slightly rounded. Temujin sat at the end of the table with the more senior members of the League, including Damien Chase who looked no worse for wear after having been gone two months. Bane took his place at the opposite end, and Talia scampered to her usual chair next to her father who sat at the head of the table. Rā’s al Ghūl was not present.
Akar came from the kitchen with freshly baked bread. As he brought the basket to the table, he gave Bane a private smile, obviously pleased to see him. Bane nodded to him.
“Before we begin,” Ducard said, raising his voice to dissipate the conversations that had already sprung up around the table, “I’d like to thank Xing Lao and his hunting party for providing us with this bounty. And I understand he was very pleased with his pupils’ skills during the expedition.”
Lao grumbled something, appearing displeased that Ducard would openly share his satisfaction, no doubt concerned such talk would go to the apprentices’ heads. But Ducard only smiled over Lao’s Mandarin protest.
“Bane shot a wolf for me,” Talia announced. “Jamyang is going to make me a coat from its fur.”
Chase raised his wine glass as if in tribute, though his attention only flicked at Bane. “It will no doubt compliment the scarf I brought back for you.”
“A scarf?” Talia’s expression opened in surprised excitement.
“Yes, I will give it to you after supper.”
“And one last thing before we begin,” Ducard said after enjoying his daughter’s smile, “I want to welcome Temujin back to our ranks after his long absence. And I am pleased to announce that he has decided to rejoin us permanently.”
Comments of approval rose from all around, though Bane noticed that Chase’s smile toward Temujin seemed less than genuine. Talia, of course, was the most effusive.
“Are you going to be Bane’s teacher again?” she pressed.
“Talia,” Ducard mildly scolded. “That has not been discussed, nor is this the place to do so.”
Sheepishly she rolled her lips together and diverted her attention to Bane, who winked appreciatively at her.
“So,” Ducard said, standing with his wine glass in hand. “A toast…to our brother’s return.” He raised his glass. “To Temujin.”
“To Temujin,” Bane said along with the others, all lifting their glasses in the direction of the embarrassed Mongol.
Temujin managed to mutter his thanks before protesting, “All this talk is making the food cold, so…” He gestured over the table.
As the men eagerly began to fill their plates, Bane removed his mask. Though he still felt self-conscious about baring his wounds to others, especially while at table, he had begun to grow accustomed to it. When he had first done so, he had consumed his food as quickly as possible to limit exposure, but over time he had allowed himself to slow down. Now, when he lifted his attention from his plate with its specially prepared fare, he found Talia smiling at him. Then she called to Temujin as discreetly as she could through the conversations, and once she had the Mongol’s attention, she flicked her eyes toward Bane. As Temujin’s focus shifted to him, Bane gave Talia a dissuading shake of his head, his face coloring. Temujin’s small grin of satisfaction did nothing to help Bane’s discomfiture. Yet, truth be told, he appreciated the admiration and satisfaction on Temujin’s face.
After the meal, Bane retreated to his room to irrigate his mouth and don the mask once more. By then Talia was at his door, entering after nothing more than a perfunctory knock as she sometimes did, though he scolded her each time for it.
“Look what Damien gave me!” she cried, hurrying to the bathroom where Bane—bare-chested—was affixing a fresh fentanyl patch to his upper arm. In the doorway she twirled, sending the ends of a scarf wrapped about her neck flying like wings. “Isn’t it beautiful? It reminds me of Mama’s blanket.”
To Bane’s surprise, the colors of the woven scarf did indeed match those of the cherished blanket. Its beauty only served to irritate Bane, especially because he had been crocheting a scarf for her. But he hid his reaction, saying, “Yes, it’s lovely.”
“I’m going to show it to Jin. He came upstairs,” she said excitedly. “Let’s go talk to him.”
“How do you know he wants company? He looks tired. Maybe he could use some peace and quiet.”
“No, he wants to see you.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me earlier when you were sleeping. He wants to hear about your training.”
“Then he will come to find me when he’s ready to talk.”
“No,” she wheedled, hurrying to his bed where she scooped up his shirt then returned with it thrust before her. “Let’s go to his room. He has a present for me.”
Purposefully slow, Bane took the shirt in hand, his smile crooked behind the mask. “Another present, eh?” He tsked and pulled the shirt over his head. “A present from me, a present from Chase, a present from Jin. I think someone’s a bit spoiled.”
She grinned and took his hand, urging him toward the door. “C’mon.”
“Very well. But let me grab my tunic.”
Talia would not let go of his hand until they reached Temujin’s door, then she hurried to knock before Bane could. When the Mongol called out to invite them in, Talia beamed up at him in triumph, then led the way inside.
“Jin!” she shouted as if seeing him for the first time since his return, running to him where he stood from his rumpled bed. Obviously he had been about to retire for the night, but the lassitude left his eyes when he caught the girl up in his arms.
“You have grown three inches since I left.”
Talia giggled. “Have not.”
Temujin set her down and stepped back to study her. “Well then, at least two.” He grinned beneath his freshly trimmed, narrow mustache. “And it looks like our young bull has gained some weight. I am pleased to see it.” He shook Bane’s hand. “And some strength as well, eh?”
“Lao isn’t quite the taskmaster that you are, Jin, but he’s close.”
Temujin laughed. “Don’t flatter me, boy. I know a lie when I hear it.”
He invited them to sit near the wood-burning stove. There were no extra furnishings in the room, so Bane sat on the coarse rug laid before it. Talia nestled close beside him, reminding him of similar nights in their prison cell when they had enough fuel to light their brazier. Temujin dug through a canvas bag beside his bed, then came to settle cross-legged near Talia. He held out a small leather pouch.
“This is for you,” the Mongol said, the light through the stove grate sparking in his dark eyes.
“What is it?” Talia asked as she started to pull the rawhide drawstrings open.
“It used to belong to my mother-in-law. On my way back here, I stopped in the village near where I used to live. I had left a few things there.”
“It’s an elephant!” Talia drew forth a small ivory carving. “It’s beautiful, Jin.”
“It will bring you good luck,” Temujin said. “It is small, so you can easily carry it in a pocket.”
Talia offered the elephant to Bane. The ivory was cool and polished.
“It is also valuable,” Temujin continued. “So don’t let Bane have it.” He winked.
Playfully Talia snatched it back from Bane who laughed. Then she thanked Temujin with another hug and kiss.
“Tell us about your trip, Jin,” she urged. “Did you find the man you were looking for?”
“Yes, little one. I did. Thanks to your father.”
“What did you do when you found him?” Talia asked, sobering.
Temujin glanced at Bane, hesitated. “I did to him what he did to my wife—I killed him.”
Bane saw satisfaction glint in his friend’s eyes, but it did not remain for more than a moment.
“How?” Talia pressed.
“How isn’t important, especially for someone as young as you to hear, little one,” Temujin said. “It is done and over with. Now what is important to me is you two. Tell me all that you’ve done and learned since I left.”
Instantly distracted from Temujin’s revenge, Talia launched into a narrative that covered both her own studies and training as well as Bane’s, allowing Bane little chance to get a word in. He did not mind, however, for he—like Temujin—was feeling the effects of his own recent journey through the mountains, and he knew he would not stay awake long.
“So,” Temujin said at the end of Talia’s tale, “Bane has been behaving himself, it would seem.”
Bane frowned, his fingers twitching in his lap. “I’m sorry about what happened before you left. I didn’t mean to dishonor you. I didn’t realize—”
Temujin grunted. “We all make mistakes, my friend. That is how we learn.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come back because of it.”
“Yes, I feared that you might feel responsible. But, as you can see, I have come back.” Temujin smiled warmly at Talia who still had the ivory elephant in hand, turning it over and over.
“What made you decide to return?” Bane asked.
Temujin’s smile drifted away, and though he still looked at Talia, a distant mist briefly clouded his eyes. “After I accomplished what I needed to do, I went back to my old village, as I told you. I spent two weeks there. I thought perhaps I would want to start over there, maybe reclaim who I once was before those men came down from the mountains and took everything from me.” He gave a quiet sigh, and his gaze cleared. “But I realized that I can never go back. Before, I had family there, friends. But it is not the same and can never be the same. That is the way of things.” His smile returned, though now his fatigue seemed even greater. “Like you, Bane, I realized the League is my family now. It is who and what I am. It is all that I am good at.”
Affected by the man’s somber mood, Talia quietly asked, “Are you going to be Bane’s teacher again?”
“I would never presume to reinsert myself after these months. Bane is no doubt used to Lao’s ways—”
“I would gladly work with you again,” Bane hastened to assure. “I mean, if you would have me. Considering what happened, though, I wouldn’t blame you if you preferred not to.”
“Lao is an excellent teacher. Better than me. He has far more experience.”
Bane frowned. “Experience, yes, but…you…you understand me better.” He hesitated and tried to infuse humor to break Temujin’s resolve, “And you don’t carry a Yantok.”
Temujin could not conceal his amusement, especially when Talia tried to stifle a giggle behind the ivory elephant.
“Sure, it’s funny to you,” Bane teased her. “But you’re not the one with lumps and bruises all over your body.”
“It’s true,” Talia said to Temujin. “Take off your shirt and show him, Bane.”
Temujin held up his hands. “There’s no need for you to disrobe on my account. It just so happens that Lao came to me today. It seems he is weary of trying to beat sense into you and begged me to take you off his hands before he breaks his treasured Yantok.”
Bane stared at him, for a moment fooled by his friend’s serious expression. But then a sly smile spread across Temujin’s face.
“So you made me grovel for nothing,” Bane said.
The Mongol chuckled. “Consider it a lesson in humility, my young bull. The first of many to come.”
Amazing job as always!
