'Maybe they don't come down these side alleys at night. How are we doing, Alyss?'
Alyss's face, in the shadow of her cowl, was contorted in a frown of concentration. The side street was even more erratic than the main street had been, twisting and turning and opening onto alleys and side entrances to the buildings. It was difficult to keep track of what was actually a street and what was simply a blind alley.
'Shut up. I'm counting,' she said. Then she pointed to a narrow opening on the right. 'That looks like it.'
They plunged into the alley. There were more people on the street now and they had to jostle their way through the slow-moving crowd as people stopped to read what appeared to be menu boards outside eating houses.
'S'mimasen,' Alyss said repeatedly as they brushed against passers-by.
'What does that mean?' Will asked, as they reached a stretch of street bare of any other pedestrians. He was impressed by Alyss's grasp of the local language.
'It means "pardon me",' Alyss replied, then a shadow of doubt crossed her face. 'At least, I hope it does. Maybe I'm saying "you have the manners of a fat, rancid sow". I'm told a lot of the meaning is in the pronunciation.'
'Still, that could be a useful phrase to know,' Halt said. But he'd noticed people's reactions to Alyss's apologies. They'd simply nodded acknowledgement and gone on their way. He was pretty sure she had the correct word. He, too, was impressed with the way she was coping. Pauline would be proud of her, he thought, and made a mental note to tell his wife about Alyss's language skills.
'There it is,' the girl said suddenly, pointing to a two-storey building on the opposite side of the street. It was more substantial than its neighbours. Its walls were constructed of solid logs, with the space between them filled in with clay or mud. There were several of the waxed-paper windows along the front of the building and four more on the upper floor, facing the street. The door was made of solid wood planks.
Beside the door, projecting over the street, was a signboard bearing a painting of a bird in flight. There were several Nihon-Jan ideograms written vertically down the signboard.
'That looks like a crane, sure enough,' Will said, 'and it's flying.'
Halt studied the board. 'Could be a pelican,' he said critically. 'But let's give it the benefit of the doubt.'
Leading the way, he pushed open the door, to be confronted by a wave of warmth. He paused for a second, studying the room beyond, then led the way inside.
Wet, muddy and exhausted, the Emperor's party finally reached the narrow footbridge.
Horace paused as he looked at it. It was a flimsy structure. There was a narrow, planked footpath, wide enough for only one person to pass at a time. Four heavy rope cables supported it: two on either side of the foot planks and another two, set a metre higher and further apart, that acted as hand rails. Short lengths of lighter rope were tied in a zigzag pattern from the lower cables to the higher, forming a flimsy side barrier to prevent travellers falling through. With the handrail cables set wider apart than the footpath, the bridge formed a truncated, inverted triangle. When he looked at the yawning drop below, and noticed that the bridge was swaying and vibrating gently in the wind, Horace decided it was not a structure that filled him with overwhelming confidence.
Horace didn't like heights. But he gathered himself, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the narrow planks, grasping the side ropes firmly as he did so.
The minute his foot touched it, the bridge seemed to come alive, swaying and dipping as it described a giant circle in the air. Far below him, he heard the river rushing and tumbling over the rocks. Hastily, he stepped back onto solid land, realising that he'd be a handicap to the others. The Kikori, used to this sort of terrain, would move more quickly across the bridge than he could. They would be held up if he went first.
'I'll cross last,' he said and motioned for the nearest Senshi to lead the way.
The warrior stepped onto the bridge. He paused while he absorbed the rhythm of its movement, then strode confidently across. Reito and several other Senshi followed, reaching the far side quickly. Then Shigeru crossed, followed by the first two of the Kikori stretcher bearers. They stepped carefully onto the bridge, moving more slowly, with both men having to adapt to the bridge's plunging, swooping motion. Eiko, who had watched their progress, called a suggestion to the next pair of stretcher bearers. They stopped and set their stretcher down. One of them slung the wounded man over his shoulder and set off across the bridge. Horace could see that he moved faster this way. The second man followed his companion, with the folded stretcher balanced over his shoulder.
That set the pattern for moving the wounded across the gorge. When they were safely over, the remaining Kikori followed. Since they were unhampered, they didn't have to wait for one person to cross before the next followed. Soon a steadily moving line was formed as they stepped lightly across the bridge. Once the Kikori were across, the Senshi warriors began to follow. They didn't manage the task with as much composure as the Kikori, but by moving carefully, they found three or four could negotiate the bridge at one time and the group waiting to cross quickly dwindled.
Horace waited anxiously. He had now watched three hundred people cross the bridge, so any doubts as to its strength were dispelled. Now he spent the remaining minutes in a fever of impatience, watching back down the path for the first sign of Arisaka's men.
'Kurokuma! It's time!'
The last of Shigeru's Senshi plucked at his sleeve, indicating the bridge behind them. Horace nodded.
'Go,' he said. 'I'll be right behind you.'
He waited until the other man was halfway across the bridge and then stepped onto the planks once more. He settled himself, adjusting to the swooping and swaying motion, then shuffled across, moving his feet carefully, placing them as close to the centre of the footplanks as he could. Still the motion was disturbing and he struggled not to look down. A memory suddenly shot into his mind – of Will at Morgarath's huge bridge in Celtica, running light-footed across the narrow beams where the footpath was yet to be laid.
'Wish you were here, Will,' he said quietly, then shuffled onwards.
He was two-thirds of the way across when he heard the cry of alarm from the far side. Stopping, he twisted his upper body to look back over his shoulder. He could see men running along the track at the rim of the gorge. In another five minutes, they'd reach the bridge. He hadn't expected them to catch up so soon and the thought struck him that Arisaka must have sent yet another advance party forward at top speed, unburdened by anything but their weapons.
'Don't stop, Or'ss-san!' It was Reito, shouting to him from the far side of the gorge. 'Keep moving!'
Galvanised into action, he plunged forward, careless now that his motion might set the bridge moving and swinging. He gripped the rope side rails fiercely, almost running to clear the bridge. He could see half a dozen Kikori standing where the handlines and cables that supported the bridge were anchored, axes ready. Behind him, he heard more shouting as Arisaka's men grew closer.
'Get a rope ready!' he yelled. 'A long rope!'
He lurched onto solid ground and turned to see the first of Arisaka's men stepping carefully onto the bridge. They hesitated at the wild movement. Unlike the Kikori, they weren't born and bred in this mountain territory. But they began to advance, slowly.
The Kikori's axes thudded against the cables supporting the bridge. But the thick rope was braided together and heavily tarred, and the tar had hardened to an almost rock-like consistency over the years. It was going to be a close thing whether Arisaka's men would make it across before the axemen could sever all four cables.
Horace saw one of the Kikori standing by with a length of rope and beckoned him forward.
'Round my waist! Quickly!'
The man realised what he wanted and stepped forward, fastening a loop of the rope around Horace's waist, knotting it securely behind him.
'Now pay it out as I go!' Horace said. He shrugged his shield aroun
d, ran his arm through the support straps, and drew his sword. Then he took a deep breath and stepped out onto the bridge again. The Kikori who had tied the rope now paid it out slowly, keeping a little slack between them so that Horace's movement wasn't impeded. He called for help and three of his companions ran to assist him.
This time, Horace moved with a purpose in mind. Any nervousness he might have felt was overborne by the necessity to hold back the advancing Senshi coming to meet him. Horace knew the real danger on such an unsteady platform would come if he let himself tense up. He had to relax and ride the motion of the bridge. He was a superbly co-ordinated athlete and now he hit upon the way to relax the tension in his muscles.
'Think you're on horseback,' he told himself, and instantly, he found he could attune himself to the swirling, plunging movement of the bridge. He advanced five metres and waited. The first of the Senshi stopped a few metres short of him, looking uncertainly at the tall figure who rode the bridge, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet. The Senshi had no such sense of ease. He was tense and nervous, out of his comfort zone. But he came on, swinging a clumsy overhead stroke at Horace.
Horace took the blow with his shield slanted, deflecting it rather than blocking it. As a consequence, his attacker felt no resistance to his blow and stumbled forward, off balance. As he tried to recover, Horace made a quick, darting lunge and took him in the left thigh, through the gap in his armour there.
With a hoarse cry of pain, the warrior dropped his sword as his left leg collapsed under him, sending him lurching into the thin web of side ropes. Horrified as he realised he was about to plunge through and fall to his death, he scrabbled for a handhold. The man behind him was impeded by the awkwardly sprawled, struggling body. As he attempted to step past, Horace advanced suddenly, shuffling quickly forward. The Senshi swung an awkward cut at him but once again the shield stopped the blow. The blade bit into the rim and stuck there for a second. As the Senshi jerked it free, Horace's return side cut hit him in the side.
The Nihon-Jan swords were sharper and harder than Horace's blade. But his sword was longer and heavier and it crumpled the lacquered leather body armour the Senshi wore, crushing the ribs behind it. The man gasped in pain, lurched against the side rail and lost his balance, toppling over to fall into the massive gorge below them.
The next man hesitated as both he and Horace felt a violent tremor run through the bridge and the left side rail sagged downwards. They faced each other, each waiting for the other to make a move. But Horace knew time was on his side now.
On the brink of the gorge, Shigeru spoke quickly to the men holding Horace's lifeline.
'Take a turn round that tree stump there!' he ordered them. 'When Kurokuma falls, slow him down before the rope runs out!'
They grasped his meaning instantly and ran the rope around the stump – which was thick as a man's waist. The axemen were working faster and faster now and the bridge trembled with each blow. Shigeru saw the enemy soldier closest to the far side turn and begin to run back, yelling a warning. His companions followed but they were too late. The bridge suddenly fell clear, spilling Horace and the four remaining Senshi into the drop.
'Let the rope out!' Shigeru ordered. He knew if the rope simply snapped tight, Horace would swing against the cliff face with brutal force. But as the rope came tight, the Kikori let it run, using the loop belayed around the stump to slow it and allowing Horace to drop clear into the gorge, below the overhang where the bridge had been set.
Horace felt the bridge go, felt himself drop into space and his stomach rise into his throat. He waited for the sudden snap of the rope jamming tight, then realised what was happening. The rope was tight but yielding. There was no sudden stop so he let himself go limp and tried to turn to face the cliff face, so he could break the impact with his arms and legs.
The overhang, and the belayed rope, saved him. If the cliff had been sheer, he would have swung into it like a pendulum, at the bottom of its arc, moving too fast to prevent himself being injured. But as he began to swing inwards, he was also still moving vertically, and his momentum was being gradually reduced. He hit the rock wall twenty metres down, with enough force to crack a rib or two and jolt the breath out of his body. He cursed as the impact shocked the sword from his hand and it spun away into the giddy drop below. Then he felt the rope tightening under his armpits as the Kikori began to draw him upwards.
As he drew closer to the rim of the gorge, he could see Shigeru's anxious face among those peering down at him. He used his legs to fend himself off from the overhang as he reached it and was eventually hauled over the edge, sprawling on the muddy ground. He must look like a landed fish, he thought.
Shigeru seized his arm, then instantly released him as Horace's injured ribs flared with pain and he cried out.
'Are you all right, Or'ss-san?' Shigeru asked.
Horace felt his sore ribs under the mail shirt and grimaced.
'No. I've cracked my ribs. And I lost my sword, damn it,' he said.
In contrast to the noisy taverns and restaurants they had passed so far, the interior of the ryokan was an oasis of calm and quiet.
Halt, Will and Alyss found themselves in a large entry room, walls and floor finished in polished timber. The sweet smell of beeswax hung in the air, evidence of constant polishing. It was overlaid by a mixture of incense and scented woodsmoke, the latter from a fireplace set against one side wall, where a log fire sent a warm glow through the room. This subdued lighting was augmented by several hanging lanterns, each consisting of a candle burning inside a paper globe. Opposite the fireplace, and set in symmetry to it, a small raised pond sent reflections of light ribboning across the walls.
The decor of the room was sparse but elegant. A large table faced them, with two beautifully lacquered boxes, one at either end, and a heavy journal in the centre. Writing implements were arranged neatly beside the journal. Behind it was a framed wall painting – not a picture, but a large Nihon-Jan ideogram. To the left, a timber staircase ascended to the next level, and a wooden railed gallery ran round four sides of the open space above them. Halt, glancing round, assumed that access to the guest rooms led off from this gallery.
There was a single step in front of them, so that the main area of the room was slightly higher than the entry. Will went to step onto the raised area and approach the table, but Alyss had noticed several pairs of sandals ranged along the lower part of the floor. She recalled an item from George's background notes on Nihon-Jan customs and stopped him with a hand on his arm.
'Just a moment, Will,' she said. 'Your boots.'
'What about them?' he asked but Halt had noticed the discarded sandals, and a shelf of soft slippers set to one side.
'Take them off,' he said.
'It's a Nihon-Jan custom,' Alyss explained. 'They don't wear boots inside.'
Halt was already stripping off his boots and placing them against the shelf. He looked appreciatively at the polished wood floor, the colour of dark honey in the fire and lantern light.
'With floors like these, I'm not surprised,' he said.
Will and Alyss followed suit. They stepped up onto the raised platform and selected slippers. They all seemed to be the same size, but they were a simple slipover style, with a matting sole and a soft felt band that stretched over the instep of the foot to hold them in place.
'Just as well Horace isn't here,' Will said. The young warrior's big feet would have overhung the compact slippers. The others smiled at the thought. Then, as if he had been waiting for them to don the slippers, a man emerged from a curtained doorway behind the long table. He stopped and bowed. The three of them approached the table and bowed in return. It seemed a lot of bowing went on in this country, Will thought.
'How may I serve you?' the man said. His voice was soft and slightly sibilant. Alyss glanced at Halt. The man had spoken in the common tongue and she assumed that Halt would conduct the conversation with him. He nodded briefly to her.
'We woul
d like rooms,' he said. 'For two nights, possibly three.'
'Of course. That will not be a problem. You are from the foreign ship that entered the harbour today?'
Halt nodded and the man opened the large book on the table. He picked up what Will had assumed to be a pen but now saw was a fine brush. He dipped it in an inkwell made from polished blackwood and made two neat entries in the book – which was obviously the register of rooms available.
'Did you want to dine?' he asked. 'There is a dining room downstairs, or we can serve your meal in one of the rooms.'
'I think in the room upstairs,' Halt said. He indicated Will. 'My assistant and I will take one room and the lady will have the other. You can serve the meal in our room.'
The man bowed slightly. 'As you wish. Is there anything else or shall I show you to your rooms now?'
Halt exchanged a quick glance with Alyss. He wondered if the man already suspected the reason behind their visit. After all, this was where George had spent several nights before he left Iwanai. He came to a decision and leaned forward, lowering his voice a little.
'We were told that we might find a friend here,' he began. 'A man by the name of Atsu. He came -'
He was interrupted by the sound of the door slamming back on its hinges behind them. They all turned as two Senshi strode into the inn, their boots ringing loud on the wooden floor. Contemptuously, they ignored the slippers and stepped, hard-shod, onto the raised inner platform. One, obviously the leader, was a pace ahead of the other. The innkeeper's eyes flickered briefly with annoyance but he quickly recovered and bowed to the newcomers, his hands tucked inside his sleeves.
'Bow,' Halt muttered to his companions. He'd felt a momentary surge of apprehension, wondering whether the innkeeper might inform the Senshi that they were inquiring about Atsu. But it was obvious that the man was no friend to Arisaka's soldiers.
The Senshi made a derisive noise in his throat as they bowed deeply to him. He disdained to return the compliment, then turned and fired off a stream of rapid Nihon-Jan at the innkeeper. Will heard the word 'gaijin' used several times. He glanced at Alyss and saw she was frowning slightly as she tried to keep pace with the conversation. The innkeeper replied courteously, withdrawing a hand from the sleeve of his robe to indicate his guests with a graceful gesture.
The Emperor of Nihon-Ja ra-10 Page 16
