Quillblade

by Ben Chandler

  A peal of laughter interrupted his thoughts and he looked across the deck to see Ignis and Atrum playing with Namei. Somehow the two Bestia had gotten hold of Namei’s scarf, and she was trying to snatch it back while they fought over it. Lenis smiled as he went over to help, though he was more interested in watching their game than in returning Namei’s scarf. The cabin girl was trying to look stern and scold the pair of Bestia, but she was laughing so hard it spoiled the effect. Lenis wondered if she’d spent much time with Bestia. He had to remind himself it was not just airships that were relatively new here. Until the Puritans had come, the people of Shinzô had never thought to harness Bestia power, which had been discovered in Heiligland after Shinzô had sealed its borders.

  ‘Namei!’ Hiroshi’s bellow startled the Bestia into dropping the thick strip of fabric. They climbed up the side of one of the holds and disappeared from sight. ‘Come and help me with these pots!’

  As the girl retied her scarf the cook hefted an armload of iron pots and pans onto the deck. Namei made a face at Lenis and disappeared below. She returned a moment later with a large tub of water. Lenis helped her carry it across to the rapidly growing pile of dirty dishes.

  Namei leant over and whispered, ‘You’d better disappear before –’

  ‘Give us a hand, lad,’ Hiroshi called. ‘It’s a few less pots Namei has to deal with!’

  Lenis made a face. ‘Too late.’

  Namei giggled as Lenis called Ignis over to heat the water. When it was hot enough the two of them began scrubbing.

  Hiroshi settled back on the deck. ‘I’ll just take a quick breath or two before I make a start. Those pots were heavy.’ He pulled a pipe out of his robes and jabbed some tobacco into it before lighting it and holding it to his lips. The cook breathed in deeply and then let out a long puff of smoke. ‘Ah, that’s better. Now, I was going to tell you about the time I was somebody’s master, wasn’t I?’

  Lenis looked up from his work. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Hiroshi smiled around his pipe. ‘In my youth I was known throughout Shinzô as a great shugyosha, or what you would call a wandering warrior, or something like that. I was a master of the Tantô no Subayai-ryû, the agile dagger style. Now, this was at the beginning of the Divine Restoration, and both the Warlord’s court at Itsû and the Emperor’s divine court at Nochi were in need of heroes.’

  ‘And on whose side did you fight?’ the captain asked him from his perch on the bridge’s steps. ‘To support or to overthrow the Warlord?’

  Hiroshi harrumphed, spewing smoke in all directions. ‘Things were very confusing in those days, Captain. This was before your time, of course.’ He clenched his pipe between his teeth, took out a roll of knives and a sharpening stone and spread them on the deck before him. As he puffed smoke out of the side of his mouth he began sharpening his implements. ‘They were exciting days, I tell you! Battles lit by nothing more than a half-moon, if we were fortunate enough to get that, and nothing to eat but the grass under your feet. And there was none of this sailing around through the sky or getting about in an automated palanquin, let me tell you! You only went where your own two feet could carry you.

  ‘Of course, it wasn’t all deprivation and misery. There were splendid feasts and many festivals, and everywhere I went I was known as Lord Hiroshi, or Master Hiroshi, or the Great Hiroshi, Master of the Tantô no Subayai-ryû and the strongest warrior in the Chô clan! And the serving wenches, I tell you, boy, the wenches! Not that you’d know what to do with any of them, eh?’ He rocked back on his heels and laughed as Lenis’s cheeks reddened.

  ‘I should hope not,’ Captain Shishi called across the deck.

  Kenji the navigator was sitting a few steps below him, rolling a pair of dice around in one hand. ‘Come on, old man. Get on with it. What happened to you that you ended up an old cook?’

  Hiroshi coughed. ‘Not so much of the old, Mister Jackson, if you don’t mind. I’ll tell you just what happened. I was travelling through Hoshi domain when I came across a little village, smaller than that one there,’ he nodded over the railing, ‘called Ohitsujiza. It was the time of the Summer Festival. Now, the Demons chose that particular evening to raid over their borders, and raving mad they all were, too, I can tell you! The defenders fought bravely enough, but soon they all fell to the fangs and claws of the horrible beasts. That’s when I entered the fight.’

  Hiroshi leapt to his feet, wielding two of his kitchen knives. ‘And there I was, surrounded by a dozen of them, just me and one other man, all that was left of the defenders of Ohitsujiza. The Demons raged against us, but one by one I slew them.’

  Hiroshi slashed through the air with his knives, parrying remembered claws and stabbing long-dead flesh. His movements were quick and precise. His knives glinted.

  The captain watched him keenly. ‘And what of this other man? Did he not fight?’

  ‘Not at the time, Captain.’ Hiroshi sank back down on the deck. ‘He was gravely wounded, you see. On and on I fought until the last of the beasts lay slaughtered. Ohitsujiza was saved.’

  ‘Surely that was not your last adventure?’ Captain Shishi pressed. ‘Tell us now of this other man.’

  ‘Well, it was to have been my last adventure, for the man I fought beside was none other than Lord Hajimari, ruler of Hoshi domain. He wanted to appoint me to an official position in his capital at Ketsû, but naturally I refused.’

  ‘Hang on! You’re saying that the great Chô no Jinsei Hiroshi gave up a life of luxury in the capital of Hoshi domain to remain a wandering, landless warrior?’ Kenji scratched the back of his head.

  ‘Of course!’ Hiroshi called back to him. ‘The life of a shugyosha is not so easily cast aside, eh, Captain?’ The cook eyed the captain carefully.

  The captain stood and moved down the stairs, coming across the deck towards them. ‘The Hajimari had recently formed an alliance with the Yûgure clan to fight against the Warlord, had they not?’

  ‘Well, eh – I’ve never found politics particularly interesting, Captain.’

  Lenis could sense Hiroshi’s discomfort. Had the old cook fought against the Warlord in the past? Had he refused the official position with the Hajimari because he didn’t want to fight the Warlord? Suddenly Lenis found him a lot more interesting.

  The captain pressed on. ‘I cannot imagine that Lord Hajimari was pleased with your refusal.’

  ‘Well, no.’ Hiroshi went back to sharpening his knives. ‘He claimed I had dishonoured his name and set myself above the Hajimari clan for not accepting his reward. To avoid war with the Hajimari, the Chô clan took my swords and banished me from the domain. That was years ago, of course, and I’ve found a new use for my daggers, as you see!’

  Lenis remembered the ‘peasant weapon’ Hiroshi had hanging on his wall, the one he had used against the Shôgo when they boarded the Hiryû. ‘Is that why you learnt how to use a kusuregami?’

  ‘ Kusarigama, boy,’ Hiroshi corrected. ‘Yes. I was wandering through another little village – I forget the name of it – and came across a peasant using one. He taught me the way of it and I’ve had Murasaki with me ever since.’

  ‘Hiroshi?’

  ‘What is it, lad?’

  Like the captain, Lenis was curious to know which side Hiroshi was on. ‘Why didn’t you want your reward? After all those years of travelling, didn’t you want to settle down to a quiet life with the Hajimari clan?’

  Hiroshi looked at him for a long moment and Lenis thought he might have pushed him a little too far, but then the cook exploded into laughter. ‘Demon’s blood, boy, why would I want to do that? Adventure, I tell you, a life of glory! That’s why, lad!’ He laughed again. ‘And just think, if I hadn’t kept travelling I never would have learnt how to cook, and I never would have ended up on board the Hiryû, and then where would you be, I ask you, without my guidance? Take the fight back there near Tani. Burning up airships is all well and good, but burning up flesh is much more effective. You listen to me and I’ll turn you
into a great warrior!’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Lenis continued scrubbing his pot, not daring to glance at the captain. He kept his eyes on his job but he could feel the cabin girl staring at him. He blushed again.

  Missy made one final check of her new clothes. They really were too big for her, she had to admit, and she had no way of altering them. Perhaps she could ask Namei the cabin girl for needles or thread. Or maybe she would grow into them. She plucked at the front of the shirt and tilted her head to one side to admire the effect. Then she smoothed the shirt down and looked out into the corridor to see if anyone had seen her.

  After a few steadying breaths, she hurried to the deck. Arthur was speaking with the captain on the bridge.

  The first officer waved her over. ‘Are you ready to go?’

  Missy bowed. ‘Yes, Lord Knyght. May I ask who will be coming with us?’

  ‘Gôshi Yami,’ Arthur said, and Missy read disapproval in his stern visage, ‘and the doctor. Long Liu wishes to pick up some things in the village.’

  ‘The village doesn’t seem big enough to have a market.’ Missy’s excitement dipped. The doctor was the last person she wanted to share this adventure with.

  The first officer shrugged, a slight lifting of his shoulders that was barely enough to jiggle the golden buttons on his uniform. ‘The captain tells me you speak fluent Shinzôn?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ And Kystian, Ostian, Tien Tese, Ellian and Lahmonian, too. Communicators only really needed to know how to talk to Bestia, who thought purely in images, but Missy had learnt early on that she had a talent for human languages. A couple of the airship crewmen she’d flown with had been foreigners, and she’d learnt a lot from listening to them talk in their native tongues. As they spoke, their words called mental images to the forefront of their minds, and Missy could use these to piece together an understanding of their language.

  Missy fell into step behind the three men as they made their way to the gangplank and then onto the airdock. An old woman greeted them. She had white hair and a rust-coloured shawl pulled tightly around her faded robes. Her face was so etched with wrinkles that she looked as if she had been poorly carved from wood. The effect was stronger when she scrunched up her face to smile at them. ‘Welcome to Gesshoku, strangers. I am Dango. Though this village is not large enough to warrant a leader, I am the eldest and so have been chosen to meet the airships that dock here. May I ask your business in our humble village? We do not normally see airships unless the Demons attack.’

  Arthur stepped forward and bowed. ‘Greetings, Dango of Gesshoku village.’ Missy was impressed by his grasp of the Shinzôn language. ‘I am Arthur Knyght, First Officer of the Hiryû. I assure you we are only stopping here briefly, and will not occupy your airspace for very long. We offer this as a gift.’ He nodded and Missy handed the woman a small parcel of foodstuffs wrapped in green cloth. ‘We hope the Hiryû will be welcome at Gesshoku airdock.’

  The old woman accepted the parcel and bowed in return. ‘Be welcome, crew of the Hiryû. What hospitality we have to offer is yours.’

  Dango turned and led them down to the ground. At eight levels high it was an oversized airdock for a village this small, but Missy supposed that it had to be, since it was primarily a military structure. From her position high on the tower the haphazardness of the place was apparent. The houses were more like shabby huts without foundations or proper supports. Their walls and roofs were made of what looked like discarded sheets of metal, or scraps of canvas, or a rough thatching of sticks and moss. The strangeness of them bothered Missy, and it wasn’t until she had almost reached the base of the airdock that she realised what was wrong with Gesshoku.

  This was the most un-Shinzôn place she had seen since she and her brother had come to Shinzô. True, they hadn’t seen much of the country, but they had flown over plenty of villages and towns on their way to Itsû, and Missy had never seen a Shinzôn settlement look so dilapidated. There were no proper buildings, except for the stone wall that surrounded the place, no roads, no squares, no meeting places at all that she could see. It was as though the people of Gesshoku had stumbled across an empty, muddy, well-fortified field and decided to set up a semi-permanent tent-city within.

  Missy stepped off the airdock and her foot plunged into the mud. At the base of the tower a small group of villagers, looking no more elegant than their homes, had gathered with baskets over their shoulders. Missy was commandeered by the doctor to act as a translator. She looked longingly after Arthur, but Long Liu had a firm grip on her arm.

  To make matters worse, Yami had decided to stay by her side. The swordsman still gave her the creeps. No one on the crew had bothered to tell her exactly how he was cursed, and Missy didn’t know if it would be rude to ask, but it couldn’t have been a good thing. Why did he always seem to be lurking around her?

  Missy tried her best to ignore Yami and focused instead on the doctor. Long Liu was delighting the villagers with his comical speech, which fluctuated frequently between poorly pronounced Shinzôn, broken common tongue, and a fluent and highly articulate Tien Tese, and because he was willing to pay the most absurd prices for the most ridiculous items. At first, Missy had a hard time keeping up with her translation of his garbled speech but, as both he and the villagers seemed happy with every exchange, she continued as best she could. The doctor traded some gold from his pouch for the coloured beads a girl with pigtails offered him. A delicate-looking crystal vial he pulled from the inside of his robe went for the crushed needles of a pine. He handed over an ornate book wrapped in silk ribbons in exchange for a sack in which a woman was carrying her wares. The contents of the bag didn’t interest Long Liu in the slightest, and he returned them with a flip of his hand.

  When he was finished he spread his purchases out on the grass and began picking through them, even going so far as to discard half the beads and a few pinches of the crushed needles.

  ‘Are you sure you want to throw that stuff out?’ Missy asked in Tien Tese. ‘You’ve only just bought it.’

  The doctor chuckled. ‘You can only use what you need.’ He picked up the remaining beads. ‘A thousand years from now a pinch of pine nettle one way or the other won’t make much difference. Unless, of course ...’

  He rubbed the beads in some of the crushed needles, rolling them around in his right hand and mumbling to himself in a dialect Missy didn’t recognise. Then he passed them through his left hand, and when they emerged they were tied to a string of leather. ‘Here!’ He grabbed her wrist and tied the string of beads around it.

  ‘Hey!’ Missy snatched her hand back and tried to pull the bracelet off. It was too tight. She looked for a knot in the leather and couldn’t find one. ‘What have you done?’

  Long Liu began singing, and then capered up the airdock. ‘A gift! A gift! A gift for the gift!’

  A gift? Why do all these crazy old men keep giving me presents? Missy looked around helplessly. The villagers were smiling at her. They could not have understood what the two had said to each other, but it was clear they were amused by the doctor’s antics.

  Yami was the only one not smiling. The tight tail of his dark hair, and his thin eyelashes and black eyes, made his face seem constantly severe.

  She held out her wrist to him. ‘Can you cut this off me?’

  ‘Considering what he paid for the beads, do you really want me to?’

  ‘He paid gold for them, didn’t he?’ Yami nodded, and she sighed. ‘I guess I should be flattered.’

  Missy wandered around Gesshoku, Yami following close behind her. His attention made her uncomfortable. As a slave in Pure Land she had been largely ignored, unless she or her brother had done something wrong, and then she didn’t really want any attention. Having someone tagging along behind her made her feel like she had broken some law or made some social misstep – or, worse, like she was constantly about to.

  ‘I’m just looking for Lord Knyght,’ she said aloud, hoping Yami would take the hint and leave her alone. He d
idn’t even acknowledge the fact that she’d said anything. For a moment she considered reading his mind, but the thought of what she might find in there made her shudder. What if his curse had somehow affected his brain? She decided to make an effort to ignore Yami and enjoy herself.

  The few people they came across smiled politely and waved, and Missy found herself smiling and waving in return, wondering as she did so if any of them had ever seen a Puritan before. Was the sight of her, with her light hair, skin and eyes, what caused the people to be so cheerful, or were they this welcoming to all strangers? She had expected that living this close to the Wastelands would make the people sombre.

  Missy also kept her eye out for a bathhouse. She’d gone longer without a wash in the past, but being in the company of so many people from Shinzô, who took their bathing rather more seriously than Puritans in general and airship crews in particular, was making her self-conscious. She wondered how her Shinzôn crewmates were handling the lack of fresh water aboard the Hiryû.

  If Gesshoku had a public bathhouse, though, she couldn’t find it, and her mind returned to the friendliness of the people. Determined to see just how accommodating they were, and hoping to learn something of the Wastelands from someone who lived next door to them, Missy approached a middle-aged man leaning on the fence of a pigsty. He turned as she drew near and squinted through a mop of greying hair at her. His smile was genuine but revealed few teeth.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said in her most respectful Shinzôn. ‘Could I ask you a few questions?’

  ‘Of course, young lady.’ His accent wasn’t very refined, but his words were no less courteous than Missy’s. ‘What is it you wish to ask?’

  ‘I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the Wastelands?’