He glanced back through the door. Ash was still out there, calm and complacent, waiting patiently for him. Eyebrows drawing down, he scanned the rest of the clearing out front. The scene hadn’t changed, moonlit flowers, porch and water well. The child, though, was gone.
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine.” The comment was obviously meant to be a reassurance, but it didn’t feel that way. Theron started at the gravelly voice, sounding rusty with disuse and grating in his ears. He turned around.
An old woman stood not three feet away from him, behind one of the worn wooden chairs, a gnarled cane in one hand. She was stooped with age, wizened eyes looking him over with a disturbing sharpness. He stepped forward, up to one of the chairs scattered like leaves around the room. Resting his hands on the back of it and bowing slightly, he said, “Hello, madam elder. I hope I am not intruding.” He smiled slightly. “The child outside said I should come to meet her grandmother.”
The old woman’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t respond, watching him with a stark and steady gaze. The lamp in the room was at just the right angle. Her eyes were a washed out blue, like the sky before a storm. Unusual. He tried again. “Someone I respect said I should seek counsel –” There was movement in the far corner of the room, a flash of white on a chair in the dim light. “– here.” With only a lamp to aid the moonlight streaming in the windows it was difficult to see that area of the room. It seemed to be a small animal. It looked like a cat, until it stood and leapt for the ledge of the nearest window.
Wrong, Theron. That is definitely not a cat. The fox was white as snow and its eyes flitted briefly to him before it jumped outside. Who were these people, that a wild animal felt comfortable in their presence?
Well, he’d thought it once already. Witch. Or witches. The child and this elder were beyond odd and into strange. Had Kino known that when he sent him here? “I was sent here to seek advice from Kitsune-sama.” Maybe that was good. Maybe it meant Kitsune had a better chance of knowing how he could stop what was about to happen. Or better still, she could refute it all, and tell him the rumor was baseless.
But the old lady didn’t answer and as the moments passed, the silence stretched. Theron felt his frustration mounting. Was she challenging him? He was wrong to be here. He should leave. He started to say so, when inexplicably, the lamp light brightened. He saw that what he’d taken for challenge in her eyes was more like anticipation. Her face was marked more with laughter than anger, but it was the bit of craziness there that tumbled together with every rumor he’d ever heard whispered about her. It confirmed who he was speaking with.
“Madam Kitsune.”
One side of her mouth turned up. He’d amused her, it seemed.
“Ah yes. That rascal Kino used to call me that.” She sighed, shaking her head, gray hair falling loose of her bun, wispy and floating in the night air. “Only the gods know how, but the name stuck.”
“He sent me to see you. He thought you could help me.”
“Of course he did.”
He didn’t question that odd statement, because something else she’d said made him curious. “Should I call you by another name?”
She gave him that half smile again, waggling a finger at him. “Unh-unh, young one. You’ll not be tricking me into giving that up. I’m happy here and wish to remain so. Kitsune works well enough.”
He frowned, not understanding. In the end it didn’t matter, if she could give him the answers he needed. So instead of pushing it further he nodded, bowing his head to her. “The little one said you were expecting me. Did Kino give you news that I would be coming to see you?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Kino?” She laughed, the sound like brittle paper. “I haven’t seen that handsome man for many years.” Her eyes narrowed, glittering. “No, no. Mother knew you would be coming to see us.”
Unease made its way back into his mind, and Theron decided he’d better stop trying to understand how it was she knew he would be here, now. He shifted uneasily. He couldn’t be away from the palace for too long. He didn’t have unlimited time with the wise woman. Kino may have sent him here, but he hadn’t given him much to go on. Theron wasn’t sure what to expect, wasn’t sure if, or how, she could help.
What advice could she give about a situation she likely had no idea about? But Kino knew everyone in the area. He knew who had power and who only thought they did. If his adopted father thought she could help, Theron would be a fool not to seek out her assistance. He ran over what little Hilma had told him again. The reason he’d come to see her grew heavier on his chest, so he let out he breath he’d been holding and started talking. “I protect the Emerald Lady. I have watched over her for nearly six years.” He paused. “In two weeks, she is to be wed to the Emperor. I’ve heard that it’s lie. The wedding and the life with the Emperor that she has been promised.”
Unconsciously, he looked around the room. It was still just the two of them. The old woman’s gaze didn’t waver. The light humor had left her eyes, but the keen attention had not. She stood quietly, listening. Oddly, he was comforted enough by that to continue. “I fear for her safety, but after she is wed, my duty will be ended. If what I’ve heard is true, I will not be able to protect her.” He found himself blinking quickly through burning eyes, his hands tightening painfully on the top of the wooden chair he stood behind.
He stopped for a few seconds, unable to speak past the knot in his throat, until he continued quietly, “I’m not even sure of what I’ve heard.” His eyes dropped to the ground briefly, then lifted again to look at her. “I don’t know what I need to ask, but I was hoping you might be able to –” The woman stepped forward, laying one dry hand over his where they gripped the frame of the chair.
“I know what you are asking, but,” her gaze fell and her gravelly voice quieted, “the present is too fluid. That type of sight is not my gift. I only knew with certainty that you would be here today because Mother saw all paths leading you here.”
What? What had Kino been thinking, sending him here, and what had he been thinking, to listen? “I don’t understand.”
She nodded. “I expect you do not. Though I’d wanted to be the one to show you the future, I see now that’s not why you’ve come.” She chuckled warmly, but there was a bit of sadness in it. “You didn’t come here to see me, child. You need to speak with my daughter.”
Chapter 4
Theron frowned. “But, Kino sent me to see you. You, not your daughter.”
The old woman smiled again, nodding. “I’m sure he did.”
This wasn’t getting him anywhere. He stepped back, reaching up to scrub roughly over tired eyes. “This was a mistake.”
“It depends on what truly led you here,” said a voice, smooth, gentle and rich. Theron’s eyes snapped open. He’d been absolutely certain he and the old woman were alone. Expecting to see Madam Kitsune, he flinched back. The older woman was gone, and instead, a younger woman stood in front of him. Glossy black hair hung low over her shoulders, down to her waist. The curves of youth graced her figure, a stark contrast to the near-gaunt appearance of the matron who’d spoken to him moments before.
The woman looked as innocent as anyone he’d ever seen, but he found himself struggling to stay calm. This was beginning to feel like a dream. A nightmare.
He should be back at the palace, looking to see if what Hilma had told him was true. The woman watched him quietly, unaffected and patient, as those thoughts spun through his head. She looked remarkably like her elder, with the same unusual eyes, the color of the sky. Despite the similarity, they were different too. Untouched by the ravages of time, her eyes were a deeper and more startling blue.
“Who are you?”
She tilted her head. “I’m who you’ve come to see.”
“I came to see Kitsune. And I thought I’d already met her.” He could hear the irritation in his voice and took a deep breath against it. “But she said I should speak with her daughter. You?” At her quiet nod, he bowed
slightly, asking, “May I know your name?”
“Kitsune will do,” and here she paused, his reaction to that request having made an impact on her. “Or, if you prefer, you may simply refer to me as ‘Mother’.”
She is only a few years older than I. Forehead creasing, he exhaled, not willing to spend any more time on it. He needed her help. But in the face of this strangeness, should he trust it?
He may not be as gifted as some, but years at court watching over the lady had taught him to judge others carefully. It helped to keep Lynea safe if he knew people’s intent. Focusing his intent on this woman served him poorly here. When their eyes met, Theron felt the room spin. He was yanked from the spot, thrown into darkness. An image lit up the void, and in it were the cruel eyes of a friend. Who? And a blade held up, glinting yellow, reflecting flames. Heart hammering, he took a stumbling step back. What was that? Feeling for the back of the chair, he gripped it like a lifeline. She’d done that. He tore his gaze from hers, shaking his head to clear it. As the room came back into focus around him, he focused on her hand instead, where slender fingers wrapped around a wooden staff.
It was topped with a carved gem. The brilliant rose-colored stone top was in the twined embrace of what looked like vines, almost as if it had grown there. He heard her inhale quietly before she spoke. “There may be something that you can do,” she made a sound, dismayed. “Even if you do, I fear you may not be able to save her.”
Of course she knew why he was here. He found he didn’t really care anymore, how she knew. “This marriage is not blessed by the gods. It is not even favored by the gods.” His voice sounded hesitant in his own ears. He looked at the woman standing next to him, her blue eyes compassionate and steady. “Is it.” When she remained silent he found he couldn’t stop the anger, simmering since that morning, from boiling over. “Is it?!” Hearing his voice echo in the small space, he snapped his mouth shut.
Losing his temper wasn’t wise, especially around someone known as a witch and crazy. But when he caught her eyes again, she hadn’t reacted to his outburst. Absurdly, he had the sudden feeling that she was only waiting for him to ask the right question.
Glancing down, he clenched and unclenched his hands before looking up at her again. “The Emperor has taken more than one wife.” He stopped, listening to the sound of the breeze through the trees outside. “The last Empress died almost thirty-five years ago.” She didn’t comment, and he continued, “Did he kill her?”
Finally, she said, “It is the cycle, it has not changed for centuries,” as though she spoke of the turn of the sun in the sky, or the movement of the stars. “It will end and be renewed on the solstice, at that moment when the sun stops.”
That was ridiculous; the sun always tracked its way across the sky. Regardless, it was clear she meant the Emperor had killed his previous wife. More horrifying, considering how long Emperor Tatsuo had reigned, it seemed likely he’d killed his previous wives. “Cycle? How many times has this happened and how do you know? I mean,” the questions were tumbling out and he knew he wasn’t giving her any time to answer. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to. But she had closed her eyes and her expression twisted when his last question fell, “Do you have proof of any of it?” When her eyes opened again, there was heartbreak in them. The palm of her free hand was pressed against the front of her kimono, even as her eyes brushed over the stone gracing the top of the staff she held. It may have been the lamp, but the stone seemed to glow, for a moment.
She didn’t answer any of his questions, saying instead, “The Emperor is not truly evil.”
Theron couldn’t believe she really felt that way. “How many have died, Kitsune?” Unconsciously, he was shaking his head, pulling away from her. “How can you say he is not evil, when he commits evil?”
“He has no control over the path he follows.” She tipped her chin down, her gaze dropping. “You, more than any, know that there are times we can do nothing else.”
His eyes narrowed. “There is always choice, good or bad.”
One side of her mouth turned up. “And that is why it must be you. That is why you are here, now.”
“Speak plainly, please. I need to know what to do. That is why I am here.”
“His choice is already made, ‘good or bad,’ as you say.”
Did she mean there was nothing he could do? “This makes no sense!” he said roughly. He yanked his gaze away, looking up at the ceiling and closing his eyes, just to stop himself from breaking something. “What do you mean?”
“How you face the choice that the Emperor makes, that is what will be the difference.” She paused, considering him a moment, before saying, “Grandmother has seen it.”
“You know more than you are saying,” he said, and he couldn’t keep the accusation from his voice.
Impatience crept into hers. “I am doing more than I should. This gift of knowing,” and she said it with such bitterness it startled him, “is limited. I am rarely shown everything that will be,” her lips twisted, “and worse, when I am, I am helpless to affect it.”
“What do I need to do to save her?”
“I don’t know,” she snapped, her calm finally shattering. Then she closed her eyes, sighing. “I’m not even sure that you can. I can only see so much.”
Something in the way she spoke, told of a pain that went deeper than this moment. Mouth turning down, he nodded. She wouldn’t be pushed any further. Exhaling, his forehead creasing, he said, “If you can’t see what will happen and you can’t tell me what I need to do, then, what can I do?”
She smiled, but it was sad. “You are a part of a puzzle, Mamoru, with pieces missing. If it is assembled now, the picture will be chaos,” mirroring her elder’s earlier movement, she laid a hand on his. “That much, I can see. It will be devastating and not just for her. A nightmare. One that you don’t even know that you fear.” Her head tilted and her eyes took on a far-away look. “But if you can gather the pieces together, all of them, you will see what to do.”
A hard lump formed in his stomach, growing colder by the moment. Devastating? He pulled his hand away. He was only human. He hadn’t lived lifetimes, as the Emperor had. Nothing he did could have that great an impact. All he could hope to do was protect Lynea. But Kitsune was continuing, almost to herself, “If you glimpse more of the past, perhaps you can unravel the future.”
He frowned. More of the past?
Seeming to make a decision, she nodded. “I have to make arrangements for this. It is not something to do lightly.”
“I don’t have much time.”
She nodded, distracted. “I understand. I have to –” finally, she seemed to focus on him again. “Before the sun has set in two days’ time, you will have a destination. A goal.”
Looking first at him and then at the front of the house, it seemed clear she was ending their exchange. It left him uneasy, not having a plan of action. No one knew of his trip here, however. No one but Hilma and Kino knew what he suspected and the wedding was not for two weeks. If fortune was with him, he would still have time to stop this.
And yet, all he wanted to do was take Lynea and leave. As Kitsune had said herself, there was no guarantee in anything she said. He couldn’t be sure the Emperor would wait until the end of the “cycle,” and that his plans were for the solstice. If they left now, she couldn’t be killed. The Emperor could not know that Theron had heard anything. Better to be far away before anyone suspected.
He knew Lynea wouldn’t understand.
She wouldn’t understand why he’d ask her to forget the life she’d been preparing for six long years, since the moment she’d been chosen by the Emperor. She would have to believe him. He would go back, bring Lynea past the guards and take her somewhere safe. There were only a few sentries posted at this hour. It was their best chance.
It was a plan. It would bring the Imperial Guard down on them. It was as dangerous as letting her wed the Emperor. And he had another thought, one that hurt to consider. W
hat if she didn’t believe him, if she refused to leave?
The woman next to him watched him, still and silent. Then she sighed, blinking eyes that were suddenly brighter. “I have faith in you. As do Grandmother and Child.” She grinned, looking years younger. For a moment he could see her resemblance to the child he’d spoken with earlier. “Here.” She raised her hand over the stone on the end of her staff. He heard her murmur, her eyes focused intently on the stone. He felt a bloom of heat across his face and instinctively he blinked, trying not to flinch from the unexpected burn of it.
A single crystal tone rang in the air and when he opened his eyes, a part of the stone had sheared off. The new, smaller piece was perfect, as though it had formed that way. There were no ragged edges, nor shattering whatsoever. As he wondered at that bit of magic, the vines that held the stone to her staff came to life, sprouting new growth, twining, reaching and wrapping around the orphaned gem. The ropes of green stretched, the new bits thinning to separate from the rest of the staff. It all would have fallen, but the witch reached up casually, allowing the translucent piece to land gently in her palm, watching calmly as the vines writhed around it with a disturbing life of their own. When one speared the stone and threaded it through the base, he was no longer surprised, but he could barely quell the urge to pull away from the witch that was so near.
Finally the vines stopped moving. She held in her hand what looked to be a leather band, layer upon layer wrapped and braided. The rich rose hue of the stone had changed too, now a deep blue and affixed to the band. Its rectangular shape almost seemed to glow faintly. Regardless of what he had seen earlier, it didn’t look threaded or held in place in any way. Theron looked more closely. He could still see the vines there, the fibers woven together with the barest hint of thorns amongst the bands.
Glancing up at the woman in front of him, he saw she was also looking at her handiwork, the sapphire color of her eyes nearly washed away with weariness. She closed them for a moment, taking a deep breath, as though gathering her strength. Then she opened her eyes again, smiling tiredly at him. It was obvious the amount of energy she’d expended. It made him hesitate to take what she was offering to him. Her smile turned wry. “I’m afraid this is the best I can do. Years ago, I could have wrought you something truly wonderful.”
Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1) Page 6
