by Anna Frost
They began to travel. Or so Jien assumed when the world became blurry and he could no longer pick out anything at all from the mass of swirling energy around them. Around, but not against; there seemed to be an invisible barrier deflecting everything away from them.
It was equally as possible mere moments had passed or entire days had passed before they stopped and, brutally, re-entered the real world. It was both like surfacing after spending too long underwater and like a punch in the face, half a relief and half a painful surprise.
Collapsing to the ground, he was noisily sick as his stomach expelled tea and rice.
“It’s hard on the senses, isn’t it?” Domi said, looking ill himself. It was alarming; what if the man had an attack now?
Jien cleaned his mouth with snow before staggering upright. “Are you well? Perhaps you should rest.”
“Don’t look so stricken. I never have two attacks this close to one another. Marin wouldn’t have left me if she thought I was at risk. It’s merely the effect of crossing.”
“I see.”
He silently vowed to keep an eye on the hermit, just in case... It wouldn’t do to let Domi fall and split his head open; Marin might consider him responsible. A quick glance at their new surroundings indicated they were still in the forest and the sun had hardly moved in the sky.
“Are you certain we traveled? This isn’t Nara.”
“I couldn’t come too close,” Domi explained, beginning to trudge away. “I wouldn’t want people to see us appear out of nowhere. We shouldn’t be far.”
They made it in town in time for the evening meal, hours ahead of Marin and Aito, both of whom would be quite angry when they discovered the ruse.
Jien’s stomach growled, empty and unhappy about it. He made a beeline for the nearest street food seller, Domi trailing him. They made a meal of it, wandering from stall to stall to eat, successively, roasted sweet potatoes, rice balls, and noodles.
Regular monks often had to beg for their food, but sohei of the Great Temples received a monetary allocation to keep them healthy and ready to handle danger, regardless of the possibility of payment afterward. There were stories of greedy monks who charged ridiculous prices to help those in need, but such persons had better take care not to be caught at it by their purer-hearted brothers.
“Since we’re early, let’s visit the temple,” Jien said, carelessly wiping his fingers on his sleeve. “I’ll introduce you to old Toshishiro.”
Crazy Toshi, as Jien had heard him called during his years of training, was either less crazy than people thought or exactly as crazy as people thought, but still able to be sensible when the situation demanded it. Or perhaps he faked insanity for his own entertainment.
Whatever the truth, Toshishiro proved sensible when the situation was laid at his feet. “So the lady took the sword, eh? I caution you against asking for the temple’s help to recover it. We have recently received a message from the Imperial Palace in Kyoto. They request a certain sword be sent to them, for unspecified and supposedly urgent reasons.”
“They asked for the Soul Eater?” Jien mulled that over. “What do they expect to receive? The original one or a fake one?”
“Isn’t that an interesting question? Do they believe we still possess the original sword and want it? Or are they aware of the copy you previously brought here, and want that one? Does this request mean they’re involved?” He coughed and shifted. “I should add we suspect someone highly placed was involved in the initial theft. A dying shinobi made the claim and a messenger brought me the news.”
“A messenger” must refer to Sanae, Jien guessed. Why hadn’t she come to tell him what had passed at the shinobi stronghold? Possibly for the same reason Toshishiro had refrained from naming her; they couldn’t trust an outsider like Domi with the entire truth.
“Teacher,” Jien said, “do you know what the temple means to do about the request? Will they send the copy we have?”
The old man’s eyes sparkled. “What sword? The Soul Eater was stolen years ago, alas, and we never saw it again. That is what the temple regretfully told the Imperial Palace.”
“So you haven’t let them find out about it? That’s good. Unless they find out and gut us for it.”
Sanae popped in as she always did, without warning. The boys are on their way but it’ll be weeks before they arrive.
“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Jien sighed. “We’ll have to investigate alone for now.”
“Perhaps it can be helped,” Domi said. “This is a matter of importance you’re investigating. If speed is of the essence, I may be able to help.”
“You’re willing to use your trick to fetch them? How generous of you.”
“I’m sure I will not regret it.” The words were polite but they meant “you will owe me and therefore leave Marin alone.”
“Of course not. We treat our allies well.”
Sanae made an irritated noise. Is anyone going to explain to me what’s going on?
Domi turned to her. “Please come with me and show me the way to your friends.”
Ah? I’m sorry, I don’t quite underst— What! How did he do that?
Sanae stared at the spot where Domi had previously been. He’d disappeared, gone to the other side.
“Go help him, Sanae. He probably can’t find people the way you do.” Could Domi even move two people or would it take two trips?
“Life hasn’t been this interesting in years,” Toshishiro said with a near-toothless smile. “Right, Nomi?” He nodded, as if in response to something his familiar said. ”Indeed, indeed.”
Jien inquired, “How is the trainee Saji? Has he been visited again?”
“He’s clean. I was given to understand the demon most likely to have been responsible for the earlier visitations died at your friends’ hands.”
“I see.” He needed Sanae to tell him the news directly, and soon. There was evidently a great deal of it.
They drank tea while they waited, emptying the entire pot before Jien began to feel worried. Shouldn’t they be back by now? It had seemed almost instantaneous when he’d come with Domi… Oh, right. They’d appeared outside the city, away from people. Domi might not be able to reappear directly here, in the middle of a building.
This, Jien explained to Toshishiro, who nodded as if a human being able to move people through the spiritual realm was perfectly normal. “What a useful ability.”
The old man went back to staring vacantly into thin air, occasionally laughing. Crazy Toshi, indeed.
“Maybe I should go and try to locate them,” Jien said.
Popping in, Sanae yelled, Get dragon drinks to the north gate! Domi’s collapsed and his heart is hardly beating! He’s had an overdose of spiritual energy! Be quick!
Dragon drinks were tonic potions strengthened with dragon eggshell, the kind of drink given to people who were weak from illness or other injury and needed help to recover. If an illness couldn’t be identified, people who could afford its price usually defaulted to dragon drink.
The Great Temples had large supplies of the drinks, which were made with the eggshells of dragons born on the premises. Having many monks with dragons living together ensured eggs were laid every spring, and thus their supply renewed itself.
Jien burst in the storage room. “I need dragon drinks now!”
The frail monk on duty pulled two bottles from a shelf in a swift, practiced motion. Brush poised above paper to record the answer, he asked, “Who for?”
“Old Toshishiro’s heart is misbehaving,” Jien said, the lie coming easy.
The old monk blinked. “Toshi? He’s never been ill in his entire life. He must finally be getting old. Hurry and get it to him. Heart troubles can’t wait.”
Grabbing the bottles, Jien spun on his heels and set off as if a bear were ch
asing him. Which, incidentally, was something that had happened to him once.
The north gate was close to the Great Eastern Temple, but there was a great deal of traffic in between. He had to shove a few slow people aside on the way—and stop to yell at a samurai standing in the middle of the street.
“Health emergency, you bastard! Can’t recognize dragon drinks when you see them? If you want to get beaten up, meet me at the Eastern Temple tonight!”
Using his spear as a pole, he vaulted over spilled goods blocking the street while the owner engaged in a shouting match with persons he apparently held responsible for the spill.
“Coming through,” Jien barked at them. “Move!”
He arrived before his pumping lungs exploded, finding a pale Domi propped up between Akakiba and Yuki. City guards stood by with looks of concern on their faces, as if worried they’d be blamed if a death occurred on their watch.
“Dragon drink,” Jien gasped, handing over the first bottle.
Akakiba seized it, shook it, and poured it down Domi’s throat.
“Don’t drown me,” the hermit said, pushing the bottle away. “I’m well.”
“Oh, yes,” Jien snapped when he had the breath to do so. “Your bloodless face, feverish eyes, and inability to stand on your own legs make you look ‘well’ indeed! What were you thinking? You didn’t have to bring them all the way if it was too hard on you!”
A faint smile played on Domi’s lips. “I know my limits, I assure you. I only pushed as hard as was needed. If you look down the road, what do you see?”
“A rider, so?” Shielding his eyes from the dazzling sunshine with a hand, he squinted at the figure. “Wait… Is that Marin? You have impressive timing.”
“Thank you. Now, if everyone could please play along…”
They listened intently as Domi outlined what he wanted.
“It’s ridiculous,” Akakiba said.
Yuki gave him a look. “We owe this man for his help.”
“I’m aware. I’ll try.”
Jien sighed. “So my role is to not be here. Very well, I’ll be hiding over there.”
From his hidden position inside the nearest building—the seller stared but didn’t ask why a monk was hiding in his shop—Jien watched the ensuing show.
Marin gaped. “Domi? How?”
It’s your fault, Sanae snarled from her mist-form. This idiot used spirit energy to get here before you. The strain damaged his heart.
“You fool!” Marin threw herself down to press her ear to Domi’s chest. “Why couldn’t you let me do as I wished?”
“I happen to agree this sword needs to be kept away from the general public, Marin. My health is nothing compared to the well being of thousands.”
“I happen to disagree,” she shot back, face flushed. Her hands fluttered above Domi’s body. “What do you need? What can I do?”
“This would help,” Akakiba said in a stilted voice, displaying the second bottle Jien had brought. “Dragon drink, heavily spiked with dragon egg shell. These days, their price is counted in gold. We can trade.” His gaze flicked to the sword on Marin’s back.
“I can find my own, bully!”
“Oh? You have gold to buy it? Or do you think you have time to sell the sword and buy this before his heart gives out? It’s weak at the moment. It might stop beating without warning.”
Marin’s fingers twitched against her sash, under which weapons were likely hidden.
Go ahead and try us, Sanae said. We’ll call you possessed and your death will bother no one here. Then who’ll take care of him?
Domi coughed and wheezed, clutching his chest.
Marin quivered. The sword landed at Akakiba’s feet, thrown violently. “Give it to me!”
Akakiba tossed it into her hands. “Shake it. The powder tends to gather at the bottom. Half should be taken now, the rest later tonight.”
Afterwards, Marin slid under Domi’s arm and helped him away. “We’ll find you a nice inn to rest.”
“Samurai business is weird,” one of the city guards said.
“Better than kabuki,” the other answered.
“That was an interestingly short trip,” Yuki said, stopping by Jien’s hiding place. “Are you coming?”
“I have to wait for Aito. He was chasing Marin on horseback. He’ll be angry when he gets here and I’m the lucky man who has to handle it.” He blinked as he noticed the big pack on Yuki’s back. “Hey, where are your horses?”
“Turned them free because Domi couldn’t bring them. Akakiba swears they’ll be fine.”
Jien peered closer at the younger boy, wondering why he looked so drawn. “Where’s your dragon? He couldn’t come either?”
Yuki looked away. “He stayed behind. We’re not bonded anymore.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Human-dragon bonds were strong, everybody knew that. Humans never took it well when they lost their bond companion. “Will you be all right?”
Yuki sighed and walked away without answering.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Akakiba
The road from Nara to Kyoto was short, travel time counted in hours rather than days or weeks. Here, winter weather meant seeing an occasional dusting of snow on the ground, not life-threatening temperatures like in the mountains.
They were four, five if Sanae was to be counted. They’d left Domi and Marin behind in an inn where they would be made comfortable until such time as Domi chose to stop playing the critically ill man and decided to head home.
Among their supplies was the copy sword Jien and Aito had recovered, because it was the copy the miscreants had been hired to bring to Kyoto. The other copy and the original sword were left in the hands of Toshishiro, who’d keep them hidden until they decided what to do with them. Freeing the energy trapped within the original sword and its copies would be good, but how could it be done safely? Nobody wanted to inadvertently worsen the situation or cause an explosion that might flatten the temple.
They found shelter at an inn, one of several on this well-traveled road, where there were hot baths to fight the chill and a varied menu to entice even the most depressed appetite.
The company was unusually quiet. Jien’s attempts at conversation fell flat for lack of anyone willing to engage and Sanae’s ears dropped every time she glanced at Yuki.
Akakiba had a feeling nothing he could say to Yuki about his dragon would be welcome. He tried to breach the subject with Sanae, drawing her in a quiet corner.
“Can’t you cheer him? He likes you.”
Brother, I’ll remind you it’s my fault he’s lost the bond with Drac. He’s had a part of him torn out. Time will mend the wound, not empty words.
“A distraction would help.”
Very well. Sanae made a show of bounding down the hallway, which was thankfully empty of clueless humans at the moment. Hey, Yuki! Done bathing yet? I have a funny story. Come over!
Once they’d gathered round the low table, Sanae perched on it and gathered her multiple tails around her. I heard this one in a drinking house. It’s almost accurate! Listen…
A long time ago, when monstrous demons roamed the land and a fox spirit’s strength was known by the number of its tails, there lived a man of great standing and power who made dangerous enemies.
One enemy hired shinobi, masters of disguise and assassination, to poison the man’s wife. The man remarried, for he only had one son, but the shinobi came again on his wedding night. The man woke to the smell of blood and found his new wife lying in his arms with her throat cut.
When this became known, none would offer the man a daughter in marriage, for surely she too would meet an unfortunate end.
Afraid for his sole son and his legacy, angry with his shadowy and dishonorable enemies, the man turned
to the strongest clan of the province: the Fox clan, home to fearless demon hunters. “I have heard your daughters are strong and fierce,” he wrote. “That they will face bandits and demons without fear and slay both without hesitation. I beg you to grant me a daughter of your clan, for no other can survive the assassins.”
Knowing this to be true, the Fox clan agreed. They sent a young woman of great skills with weapons.
“Let them come and try me,” she said on their wedding night, and her eyes were filled with anticipation.
The man could hardly sleep, holding his new bride close. His bravest warriors were guarding the room; his best watchers were on the walls. He battled sleep all night long, falling prey to it near dawn.
When he woke, he found his fox wife brushing her long hair not far from the fallen body of a man clad in dark clothing. The would-be assassin lay with a hairpin stuck deep in his eye.
“My wife,” he cried in astonishment, “you did this?”
“Fool be he who dares to raise a hand against a daughter of the Fox clan.”
They hung the assassin’s corpse on the gate, so all would know he had failed. No more shinobi came.
In those times, the world often saw war and devastation. When humans did not fight terrible demons or the occasional dragon gone mad, they fought one another mercilessly for land and power. The powerful man was no exception. He fought many a battle, his son at his side so he might learn to lead.
After a terrible and bloody battle, the man returned home with great anguish, bearing his badly wounded son. The son’s spine was broken and no human could heal him. They carried him to healing springs where good spirits were known to dwell, but the spirits shied away from the scent of battle and blood and none would help.
Before long, everyone had abandoned the son, thinking of him as a dead man. Only the fox wife, his stepmother, cared for him. She bathed his broken body, brought his meals, and read to him.
