Julio came over as Jack sat.
"Usual?"
After two visits to the Ear in one week, Jack had developed a taste for witbier.
"Too bad you don't have any Hoegaarden on tap."
Julio made a face. "That yuppie-hippie-emo piss? You kiddin me, meng?"
Jack sighed. "The usual."
As Julio left, Jack turned to Veilleur and noticed a flyer on the table. He turned it around and recognized a photo of the katana. Naka had wasted no time.
"Where'd you get this?"
Veilleur shrugged. "A man handed it to me on my way over. A very interesting sword."
Jack debated whether to say anything about it, then decided why not.
"Supposedly it's called the Gaijin Masamune."
Veilleur's head snapped up. "The what?"
Jack wondered at his reaction. "You've heard of it?"
"No. But I've heard of Masamune and I know what gaijin means. It's really a Masamune?"
Jack's turn to shrug. "So I've been told. He didn't sign it, so who's to say?"
Veilleur's gaze was fixed on the flyer. "What else do you know about it?"
Jack didn't want to talk about the katana—would rather not even think about it. He was far more interested in learning more about the Taint. But he had to give the guy an answer so he told him the Cliff Notes version of the story as he'd got it from O'Day—from the meeting between Masamune and the gaijin to Hiroshima and the bomb.
In closing he tapped the flyer. "It was stolen from this guy. He asked me to find it for him. I told him flyers were the best way to go."
"Will you know if he succeeds?"
"I promised I'd look into any leads if he wants me to."
Veilleur was staring at the flyer again. "Well, if you come into possession of it, I'd be very interested in seeing it."
He'd be delighted never to see it again, but he said, "Sure. But enough of the katana. Let's talk about the Taint."
"Of course. But first I'd like something to eat. I don't suppose Julio serves food?"
"Serves foodlike substances."
Veilleur frowned. "That doesn't sound very appetizing. Does he have a menu?"
Jack shook his head and pointed to the blackboard over the bar. "Just that."
Glaeken squinted at it. "The writing is very faint."
"That's because it's been there forever. He never changes it."
He looked around. "The place looks too small to have a kitchen."
"Not if you call a freezer and a microwave a kitchen."
Still squinting at the sign, Veilleur started to rise from his chair. "I'll have to move closer—"
Jack grabbed his arm. "I haven't known you long enough to call you a friend, but let me tell you: Friends don't let friends eat at Julio's."
The old man dropped back into his seat. "Thank you. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've eaten in my life, but my stomach's not what it used to be."
"Purely selfish on my part: I don't want you grabbing your gut and running out of here before you've told me a few things."
He laughed. "A practical man, and straightforward about it too. I like that." He sipped his stout. "You want to know more about the Taint."
Jack leaned forward. "Bingo. And maybe throw in a little info about Jonah Stevens while you're at it."
"If we have time."
Julio arrived with a mug of Yuengling for Jack and pointed to Veilleur's stout. "Get you another?"
"I believe so."
"You wanna eat?" When Veilleur glanced at Jack, Julio added, "Don' look at him. He wouldn't know good food if it bit him."
Jack said, "One of your burritos did bite me—right on the stomach lining."
"Don' listen to him. You hungry? You wanna cube steak? We got delicious stuffed cube steak."
Veilleur gave him a wan smile and shook his head. "I'm cutting back on stuffed cube steak."
When he was gone, Veilleur said, "I almost feel obligated to order something, even if I don't eat it."
"The Taint?" Jack said.
"Single-minded, aren't we?"
"So I've been told."
Veilleur leaned back. "To understand the Taint you need to know some of the Secret History of the World."
That phrase again. "When I was a kid, I had a good friend who used to talk about a Secret History of the World."
"The conspiracy crowd believes in a secret history and has countless scenarios for it, mostly wrong. But they're right about one thing: The world has a history known to only a few. It was codified once in a book that I hid away for safekeeping with other so-called forbidden texts, but they've all disappeared."
Jack had a flash. "That wouldn't be the Compendium of Srem, would it?"
Veilleur straightened in his chair. "You've heard of it?"
"Heard of it? It's sitting in my apartment."
"Amazing. Well then, why do you need me to tell you the Secret History when it's at your fingertips?"
Jack drummed those fingertips on the table. "It's not exactly an easy read, what with the pages changing every time you turn around."
Veilleur frowned. "Is that so? I guess Srem wound up with a multivolume work that she had to fit into a single book."
"She?"
"Yes. Srem was an ancient, ancient Cassandra who saw the cataclysm coming and wanted to preserve a record of her times before everything was destroyed."
"Cataclysm?"
"We'll get to that. But—"
"Wait-wait-wait." Something wasn't right here. "You said you owned the book. So how come you didn't know how the text keeps changing?"
Veilleur shrugged. "I owned it but I never opened it. Her history was no secret to me. I didn't need to read about it—I'd lived it."
Okay. Jack could buy that.
"But what good is a book that keeps changing?"
He scratched his beard. "Not much. Something must have gone wrong. That sort of book was designed to have a finite number of sheets but a virtually infinite number of pages."
Jack stared at him. "I will add what you just said to my list of Things That Make Me Go, 'Huh?'"
"It's simple, really. If you have one hundred sheets in a book, you will have two hundred pages, correct?"
"One on each side of a sheet. Right."
"But in this sort of book, when you turn the one-hundredth sheet—notice I didn't say 'last'—you find another waiting for you. And another after that and another after that."
"But then you've got extra sheets."
Veilleur shook his head. "No. Because sheets are disappearing at the beginning of the book. If you flip back, you will find them again, but the sheet count remains constant."
Jack stared at him. He didn't seem to be pulling his leg.
"You're serious?"
"Of course. It's a lost art."
He realized that, after all he'd seen, he shouldn't be surprised by anything anymore, but this seemed straight out of Harry Potter.
"All well and good, but that's not what's happening. Pages are disappearing here and there about the book and being replaced by ones I've never seen that have nothing to do with what precedes or follows them."
"I imagine that would make comprehension very difficult."
"Tell me about it."
"Something must have gone wrong somewhere along the millennia. Too bad. The text would have explained everything."
At least Jack had an explanation of what was going on with that damn book—if you could call that an explanation.
Yeah. Too bad.
"So now the job falls to you."
"So it seems. Very well. To understand, you have to go back to the First Age, when the Adversary and I were born, and the war between the Ally and the Otherness was more out in the open. The laws of physics and chemistry and matter and energy were more pliable back then. Some people could perform what might seem like magic to you."
"Like Srem?"
"Like Srem. Anyway, I'd already defeated the Adversary—I was a mercenary in those
days and did it for money—and it appeared I'd killed him. Because of that, the Ally chose me as one of its paladins."
"One of them?"
"There were a number of us back then, and the Adversary had his fellow plotters as well."
"But now it's just the two of you?"
"We're the only two to survive—for different reasons."
"You said you thought you'd killed him."
"Yes, but he managed a rebirth—"
"Besides the one in sixty-eight?"
A nod. "He's resourceful and resilient. We battled for centuries across surreal landscapes that would now be called dreamlike—or nightmarish. Neither side could gain the advantage. In a desperate move, the Otherness created the q'qr race."
"Cooker? You mean Kicker?"
"No. Kicker is Thompson's mangling of an ancient word." He spelled it for Jack, then pronounced it again.
Jack almost leaped from his seat. "Q'qr! I saw that in the Compendium. It called the Kicker Man 'the sign of the q'qr.' And under that it had some sort of poem about the q'qr."
" 'The Q'qr died yet lived on… the Q'qr is gone yet remains.' Something like that?"
"Yeah. That and more."
" 'The Song of the Q'qr.' A cautionary tale."
"Well, it's hard to be cautioned when you don't know what they're talking about."
Like much of what Jack had read in the Compendium, it assumed the reader shared the same reference base.
"The Otherness took a horde of its followers and inserted something of itself into their DNA."
"Did you even know about DNA back then?"
"We called it something else. Our life sciences were advanced, but the Otherness and the Ally blocked advances in weaponry, leaving us with only points and edges to fight with. Which often were not enough against waves of creatures part human and part Otherness."
"Like a rakosh?"
Veilleur shook his head. "The rakoshi were built from the ground up, so to speak; the q'qr were, in the current parlance, retrofitted. They were savage, vicious, their appearance fearsome—large and hairy, with fanged snouts. But their most terrifying feature was their two extra limbs."
"Four arms—the Kicker Man."
"Yes. But their extra limbs were boneless, tentacular, which made them all the more terrifying. What you call the Kicker Man was their symbol. They would draw it in blood wherever they had slaughtered humans—an almost continuous occurrence. They lived to kill and breed, and were prolific at both."
"How'd you stop them?"
"As I said, First Age weaponry was primitive, but our life sciences were advanced. The adepts began searching for an infection that would kill q'qr and spare humans. They were half successful: They created an agent that turned out to be deadly only to q'qr females."
Jack winced at what he saw coming. "With no females around, the q'qr males must have gone after human women."
"An unforeseen consequence. The males would tear through villages and towns, killing all the men and children and raping the women, hoping for at least some half-breeds to add to their ranks. But only a q'qr female could give birth to q'qr children. The raped women gave birth to human children—at least they looked human. Their mothers' DNA had commingled with the remnants of human DNA in the q'qr, but had quarantined the Otherness-created genes. The children seemed fully human but they carried what came to be known as the Taint. After the q'qr were defeated, the Taints were segregated—given their own land apart from the untainted population."
"But if they were segregated, how did the Taint spread?"
"The cataclysm. When its q'qr strategy failed, the Otherness lashed out at humanity, causing global geological and climatological upheavals that wiped out First Age civilization and most of humanity along with it. The surviving humans—pure-blood and Taint alike—huddled together and interbred, and spread out from there."
Jack shook his head. "This sounds like Velikovsky stuff. I mean, I used to be into anthropology and this goes against all the accepted theories."
Veilleur seemed unperturbed. "I imagine it does. But that's why it's called the Secret History of the World."
"Come on. There's gotta be some trace of the First Age somewhere."
Jack remembered a strange object he'd found in the Pine Barrens as a kid, possibly a leftover from that time. But it had disappeared.
"I'm sure there is, but not much. The upheavals were colossal and extensive. The Adversary and I barely escaped with our lives—all my fellow paladins perished. So whatever little is left is buried deep." He paused. "And yet… not so deep. Every human religion from the Sumerians to the Babylonians to the Jews has a cleansing cataclysm in its mythology—usually a flood. And even the q'qr live on in a way. Look at Hinduism—arguably the oldest established religion. Its pantheon includes gods like Shiva the Destroyer, Indra the god of lightning, Yama the god of the dead, and the most fearsome of all, Kali the blood queen. And what do they have in common?"
Jack didn't know Indra and Yama, but had seen pictures of Shiva, and knew Kali all too well. The answer gave him a chill.
"Four arms."
"Exactly."
They sat in silence for a while. Jack didn't know what Veilleur was thinking, but his own thoughts were awhirl. Finally…
"So we all carry this Taint."
Veilleur shrugged. "I suppose the laws of probability dictate that some people must be Taint free, but you can't tell by looking at them."
"Can you think of any purpose for a super-tainted baby?"
He shook his head. "Not one."
"Then why did Jonah Stevens—" Jack suddenly remembered something. "Wait… the other night… you seemed to recognize his name."
"I do. He was the Preparer of the Way for the Adversary's rebirth. And after he was born, Jonah protected him while his mother raised him."
Jack slapped the table. "Then Ras—I mean the Adversary must be behind the baby."
Another head shake. "I don't think so. I believe the Adversary murdered Jonah not too long after he'd set his plan in motion."
"Murdered? I heard it was an accident."
"Accidents can be arranged. I believe Jonah Stevens had it in his head that his super-tainted offspring could take the Adversary's place. The Adversary found out and eliminated him."
"Then I guess that now that the baby is on its way, he'll want to eliminate it as well."
That meant even more competition in the hunt for Dawn Pickering and her unborn child. First Hank and his crew, and now maybe Rasalom as well.
A teenage girl with no idea what she's carrying, clueless as to all the wheels she's set in motion.
Dawn—Dawn—Dawn… Where the hell are you?
4
"A woman!" cried the Seer. "A woman with child!"
Toru Akechi chewed his upper lip in worry as he watched the legless, half-naked Seer writhing on the futon. His anxiety stemmed from his elimination of Tadasu yesterday. As one of the Order's sensei, he had great latitude with his charges, but that stopped well short of pronouncing a death sentence. He had done what he had done for the good of the Order, but he had not had the approval of the Elders. No member of the Order could be eliminated without that.
He worried that the Seer might learn of it and tell the Elders assembled here. As far as Toru knew, the Sighting potion allowed only visions of the future, but still…
The Seer sat up, swiveling his eyeless face back and forth.
"A woman with child!" he cried again. "I see her face everywhere, staring back at me. She is important only for the child she carries. Her child, her child, her child… it will change the world. Who controls the child controls the future. The Order must control the child. It must!"
He loosed a guttural sound as he went through another bout of writhing and thrashing. And then he stopped, looking once again at nothing.
"The blade! The blade is with the woman! No! It is with her child! I see the child wielding the blade. The blade and child are together now and will be so again in the futu
re. Her child and the katana are linked to the destiny of the world!"
And then he fainted, falling backward. His head hit the floor with a meaty thunk.
A pregnant woman whose face was everywhere. Everywhere… a film star? A cover model?
He and the Elders would divine its meaning and hunt down this woman with child and bring her under the Order's wing.
Who controls the child controls the future.
Toru wanted that child for the Order.
But then the second half of the Seeing: The blade and child are together now and will be so again in the future.
What else could that mean but that the katana was with the pregnant woman? Find one and they would find the other.
Her child and the katana are linked to the destiny of the world.
The future of the Kakureta Kao was linked to the destiny of the world as well.
He would start the hunt immediately.
5
"Takita-san!"
Hideo looked up and saw Kenji rushing into the room, waving a pink sheet of paper.
"Look at this!"
Hideo took the sheet and froze as he recognized the katana in the photo. And then he was out of his seat and in Kenji's face.
"Where did you get this?"
"Taped to the front door. They're all over."
Hideo stared at the sheet. What did it mean?
Acting on his theory that the owner from Hawaii had hired the ronin to find the katana, Hideo had spent all yesterday searching for an urban mercenary. He'd found mercenaries—plenty of them. They advertised in magazines like Soldier of Fortune and on various Web sites, but none of them fit the profile of the man he was looking for.
And now this flyer. Who but the owner from Hawaii would be offering such a reward? If so, it meant he had not yet reclaimed the katana.
He had to speak to this man. He was a living link to the sword—the only one within reach—and Hideo needed to learn what he knew. Perhaps he could provide a direction. He needed something, anything. He was floundering about. He felt as if he was drowning.
He grabbed the receiver from his desk phone and began to punch in the number listed on the sheet.
Halfway through, he stopped.
By the Sword rj-12 Page 22
