Beneath Ceaseless Skies #183

by Richard Parks

  Issue #183, Seventh Anniversary Double-Issue • Oct. 1, 2015

  “The Bride Doll,” by Richard Parks

  “Geometries of Belonging,” by Rose Lemberg

  “The Four Schools,” by Naim Kabir

  “The Sons of Vincente,” by I.L. Heisler

  For more stories and Audio Fiction Podcasts, visit

  http://beneath-ceaseless-skies.com/

  THE BRIDE DOLL

  by Richard Parks

  “You do realize that she’s a demon, don’t you?”

  Kenji, the often inebriated and always disreputable priest, whispered this comment into my ear as we followed behind the attractive young woman who was leading us through the icy mountain pass. At first our meeting with the woman, who claimed to be a wood-cutter’s daughter from Aoi village, seemed an unusual turn of good luck. The mountains this far north were treacherous at best and deadly at worst. A sudden snow squall had caught us all but unprepared, and the promise of warm food and shelter for the night was extremely appealing.

  I sighed and tried to shake some feeling back into my fingers. “No. I thought it was mere happenstance that the air turned suddenly colder and the snow fell harder when she appeared. Are you prepared?”

  “Yes. Pity, though. She is quite winsome.”

  “I’ll thank you to think with your mind and not your loins where our lives are concerned.”

  The woman paused and turned back to look at us. Kenji was right—she was a beauty. Her hair was long and seemed even blacker than obsidian against the backdrop of snow. She had a sweet if rather sharp-featured face. Her eyes were the only real clue, if one could interpret them correctly. They were as black and cold as stone.

  “Forgive my impertinence, but may I ask what you gentlemen are discussing? We get so few visitors up here that sometimes I feel starved for human company.”

  Both the irony and the implication of that statement were not lost on either of us. “We were simply marveling at our good fortune and our rudeness in turn,” I said. “We forgot to ask your name.”

  The woman smiled at us, though she demurely concealed her teeth with her open right hand. “Yuki.”

  Snow. Of course. More a statement of identity than a name, if a little obvious: yuki-onna. Snow woman. I looked beyond her. The pass was sloping downward, which was a good sign, but daylight was fading quickly.

  “It’s a pretty name,” Kenji said.

  “Thank you,” she said. She started to turn, then hesitated. “The snow is getting worse. We might not be able to reach the village by nightfall, but there is a hut nearby that my father built for shelter in just these circumstances. We might be better off to stop there. The path is dangerous at night, even for one who knows the way.”

  “We will yield to your judgment,” I said. “Lead on.”

  My tachi was loose in its scabbard, but I wasn’t inclined to use it on mere suspicion, compelling as that suspicion was. I didn’t have the knack for reattaching a person’s head once I’d cut it off—such actions tended to be irrevocable. Besides, I knew Kenji had a better way.

  Yuki turned onto a side path that led up the mountainside. At first I thought she was leading us to some quiet cave to work her will, but we soon approached a very old but solid and serviceable-looking hut. It was partially sheltered by an ancient pine tree. The snow on the path to the dwelling was undisturbed, and there was no light showing from within. There was a low moan of the wind through the branches of the pine as the snow continued to fall heavily.

  “If you gentlemen will make yourselves as comfortable as possible, I will fetch some wood.”

  “Very kind of you.”

  I pushed the door open and peered cautiously into the gloom, but there was no place for anyone to be hiding. I went inside and Kenji followed, but before he closed the door behind him, I saw him take a small slip of paper tied in a lover’s knot out of his robe and wedge it firmly into the crevice between two planks in the door.

  Inside the hut it was not any warmer, but at least the freezing wind was somewhat dampened. There were no furnishings to speak of, but there was a sand firepit with a small cast-iron kettle suspended above it that could be used for cooking. I took my flint and steel and used the edge of my dagger to take some shavings from a scrap of wood that appeared to have been left there for the purpose. In a short time I had a very small fire going with what scraps I could find, but it would not last long without more wood.

  We heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and then the rattle of the door.

  “Gentlemen,” Yuki said, “why have you barred the door?”

  “We have not done so,” Kenji called out as he held his hands over the flickering little fire. “There is nothing here to bar the door with. Perhaps it is stuck. Let me try pushing it.” Kenji yawned and then called out again. “No, it seems to be stuck. Try pulling harder.”

  “I see that the door is barred, priest,” Yuki said. At least, it sounded a little like Yuki. It sounded more like the howl of the wind. Again the door rattled, but that could have been the wind as well.

  “Please, sirs,” Yuki said, and it sounded like her familiar voice again. “I am cold.”

  “You are,” Kenji agreed. “You are the cold of the mountain itself given a pleasing but misleading form. Go away, demon.”

  “Not until I have fed, priest. Open the door,” and now the voice was the moan of the freezing wind.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t think we will.”

  Now the wind did truly howl, and we heard the lashing of tree limbs as the wind pushed them together, heard the fall of snow as it crashed down on the hut’s roof. Yet whoever—at this point I was certain it was not Yuki’s father—had built the hut had known what he was about, and the roof held even though the fire sputtered out for lack of fuel.

  “I don’t suppose she actually brought any wood with her,” Kenji said.

  The door continued to rattle. “Is that ward secure?” I asked.

  “I blessed it as I set it in place. Let her bluster. Nothing that she can do will remove it.”

  “Even so, she’s going to make things very uncomfortable for us.”

  Kenji and I pulled out our blankets and all the spare clothing we had and wrapped ourselves as best we could. I trusted that the protective ward that Kenji had placed in the door would hold the creature at bay, but her power was going to be felt despite that.

  Kenji shivered. “Lord Yamada, please tell me why we’re in this hellish place. If I’m going to freeze to death tonight, I have a right to know why.”

  “I’m here at Prince Kanemore’s urgent request. You’re here because Prince Kanemore ordered you to accompany me. For some reason he thinks you have utility of some sort.”

  The priest grinned. “Ask the demon outside if I have utility, Lord Yamada. Even so, I have been excluded from any other information which, I trust, you have.”

  I’d been sworn to secrecy while we were in the Capital, but there seemed little point in keeping silent now. “The head of the Tsugaru Clan, Lord Yoshi, is trying to negotiate a treaty with the Emishi.”

  Kenji frowned. “The northern barbarians? Is this possible?”

  “That is uncertain, but since peace will reduce the strain on the Imperial revenues, Prince Kanemore wants these talks to succeed. Though how the barbarians have the energy to wage war in this place when they should be huddled by their fires at home is beyond me.”

  “You’re an investigator, ghost hunter, and demon queller. Not a diplomat,” Kenji said, then added, “Especially not a diplomat.”

  “I know that, and Prince Kanemore knows that. Apparently, nego
tiations have been complicated because someone kidnapped the Emishi chief’s daughter-in-law.”

  “And they want you to find her?”

  “Just so. Prince Kanemore hinted that there was more to the matter but that Lord Yoshi would have to supply the details. Now you know as much as I do. We’ll find out the rest if that charming monster outside lets us live through the night.”

  The demon’s power would diminish in the light of day. All we had to do was survive the night, but as the cold settled in and the last embers of our fire turned to cold ash, I began to wonder if it might not be better to take my sword and my chances with the creature outside. If we weren’t killed immediately, at least then maybe we could find some firewood.

  Kenji was apparently doing his own musing. “Isn’t this always the way?” he said after we’d shivered in silence for a while. “We come across a lovely young woman alone in some remote place, and she always turns out to be an angry ghost or a fox or some sort of demon in disguise.”

  “Perhaps, as a priest, you should take a lesson from this,” I said.

  Kenji looked thoughtful. “Yes, and the lesson is that I should be more careful in the company I choose. Lord Yamada, I’m beginning to think that you attract monsters.”

  I should have been insulted, but for all I knew Kenji was right. Yet as he was a priest who specialized in exorcism and wards of protection and thus profited by such encounters, I didn’t think it fair of Kenji to complain.

  “Try to get some sleep,” I said. “I’ll keep watch for now.”

  Neither of us got much sleep with the wind howling and the hut rattling as if it would collapse on us at any moment. Even so, while the cold remained brutal, it got no worse and the howling finally subsided. When dawn came at last we opened the door cautiously to find deep scratches in the wood as if an animal had clawed at it and Kenji’s ward still in place. The snow had stopped, the sky was clear, and there was no sign of the creature that had called herself Yuki.

  “Clear daylight will hinder a snow demon but only just. Best to be away from here quickly,” I said.

  We rearranged our travel bundles and retraced our steps down the slope until we found the main path again and followed it down and to the east as it wrapped itself around the mountainside. We had gone barely the length of three bowshots when we reached the valley at the base of the mountains and Aoi village came into view.

  “Yuki lied,” Kenji said. “Fancy that. If the settlement hadn’t been around a bend of the mountain, we’d have seen the fires last night.”

  Lord Yoshi’s winter encampment was on the outskirts of the village, though he himself was a guest of the mountain temple nearby. I showed Prince Kanemore’s letter of introduction to the Tsugaru retainer stationed at the base of the pass, and he immediately turned his watch over to another man and escorted us to the temple personally. Our guide was a handsome young man who, at least at first appearance, seemed close to exhaustion. He studied us with some curiosity even as he did his best to hide the fact.

  “I am Lord Yamada, and this is the priest Kenji,” I said finally. “What’s your name?”

  “Tsugaru no Michi, My Lords.”

  “Do you know how the negotiations stand at present?”

  He bowed slightly. “Such matters are above one such as myself,” he said, “though I do not think there has been any negotiation for the past several days. No fighting, either. Yet.”

  “You say that as one expecting trouble,” Kenji said.

  Michi grunted. “One always expects trouble at the borders.”

  I frowned. “Has this village ever been attacked?”

  “Fortunately, no, though we would defend it vigorously. Its position as the gateway to the mountain pass makes it too important to do otherwise.”

  As we walked through the village on our way to the temple, I noticed what I thought might, perhaps, be another reason the settlement had not been attacked: I saw at least three villagers with red hair and more than one man with a thick, bushy beard. “There is trade with the Emishi, I take it?”

  Michi smiled slightly. “More than trade, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Which may be part of the reason the barbarians attack other border outposts but not here. Even so, a full-out conflict would spare no one.”

  “Which I’m sure both Lord Yoshi and Prince Kanemore wish to avoid.”

  “If you’ll pardon my saying so, my Lords, they are not the ones who need to be convinced. Lord Yoshi knows more of this matter than I do, so please forgive my rambling.”

  “No, you’ve been very helpful. I will say as much to Lord Yoshi,” I said.

  Michi looked unhappy. “Thank you, but I am not in Lord Yoshi’s good graces at the moment, and hearing my name might not put him in the best of moods for your councils.”

  “As you wish.”

  The temple at Aoi was like most of the smaller mountain temples: it was unwalled and consisted mainly of a central hall with an open garden to the south of the building and outbuildings added at various times at need over the years. Lord Yoshi was quartered in a spare room of the main hall, and Michi gave us over to a young priest at the doorway who led us through the main hall. The main room was the image hall where a large wooden statue of Kannon the Merciful dominated, but the room had been partially partitioned off to the left to create a separate large space, and in that space, displayed on various altar-like tiers, were dolls.

  Dolls?

  I glanced at Kenji, but if he had noticed the odd sight, he showed no sign. Lord Yoshi was expecting us, and an acolyte had saké already warming on a brazier. We made our introductions and I gave over Prince Kanemore’s letter. Kenji and I both gratefully accepted small bowls of the warm saké while he read it; the chill from the previous night had not entirely left my bones, but the drink went a long way toward restoring the balance.

  Lord Yoshi was a vigorous, blunt-featured man just a little older than myself, perhaps forty or so. He studied Prince Kanemore’s letter intently. He finally grunted. “The Prince’s instructions are clear enough.”

  “Would it be polite to ask what they are? I’m afraid he was rather evasive as to why he felt I could be of service to you.”

  “He said only that I should trust you, as he does. I’m afraid I have little choice. Have you spoken to any of my retinue before now?”

  Kenji and I glanced at each other, but I wasn’t going to start off my service to Lord Yoshi with a lie. “Yes. A young bushi named Michi. Though there was little he could tell me of the situation.”

  Lord Yoshi nodded. “Ah. That one.”

  “While I understand that this is none of my concern, he did seem to feel that he was not in favor.”

  “He’s one of my best soldiers, for one so young,” Lord Yoshi said. “But he’s allowed his heart to interfere with his duties. He’s not the first and won’t be the last. No matter. The reason I asked is because rumors have been flying thick as last night’s snowstorm. I wanted to know what you’ve heard.”

  “Only that the barbarian chief... Akitomo?” Lord Yoshi indicated that I was correct, and I went on. “His son’s wife has been kidnapped. I learned that from Prince Kanemore. All Michi said was that the situation was tense.”

  Lord Yoshi smiled. “And so it is. But at once simpler and far more complicated than Prince Kanemore indicated. Please come with me.” He rose, and after we put our bowls aside for the acolyte to collect, we followed his example. Lord Yoshi led us out into the main hall of the temple toward the alcove of dolls that I had noticed earlier. Upon closer inspection, it was easy to see that the dolls varied greatly in age, skill of construction, and condition. Some were practically crumbling where they stood; others could have been made within the month. All wore some variation of a common wedding kimono.

  “Chief Akitomo’s daughter-in-law was stolen from this very place,” said Lord Yoshi.

  I frowned. “She came here to pray?”

  “She resided here,” Lord Yoshi said. “In this spot.” He pointed to a dus
ty gap on the third tier of dolls.

  I must have looked as baffled as I felt, but Kenji suddenly gasped. “Bride dolls!”

  I just stared at him, but Lord Yoshi smiled. “That is correct, Master Kenji.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, stating the obvious.

  “Lord Yamada, it’s a local custom in some northern provinces,” Kenji said. “When a boy dies before the age of maturity, his family will create a special doll in wedding attire and dedicate it to the local temple. The idea is that the doll, through the prayers of the family and blessings of the priests, will be infused with a benevolent spirit and essentially become the bride the boy never had in life, to provide companionship and comfort to his ghost.” Kenji turned to Lord Yoshi. “But... this means Akitomo’s son is dead.”

  “Yes. The boy was killed in a hunting accident this spring. A tragedy; he was only seven. Yet I think it was Akitomo’s grief over the loss of his son that led him to consider a more formal peace in the first place.”

  Kenji frowned. “May I ask why an Emishi like Akitomo would follow the custom of the bride doll? While I am no expert on their customs, I did not think this was in their tradition.”

  “Strictly speaking, it isn’t. Akitomo’s wife is the daughter of the headman of this very village,” Lord Yoshi said. “And under her influence Akitomo has adopted some of the local customs. Which is another point in favor of more understanding between us. Yet with his wife ‘kidnapped,’ I’m afraid that the dead boy’s spirit has become restless and angry and is often seen in the village, either crying or screaming without sound. Since the theft was from this very temple, Akitomo holds us responsible for this, and if we don’t return the doll to its rightful place soon, all Prince Kanemore’s and my own hard work may come to nothing.”

  “Forgive me, but do you have any reason to suspect that the culprit may be among your own people?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Lord Yamada, unfortunately I have every reason to think so. While you well know there are factions on both sides who do not see peace as being in their best interests, no one from outside other than yourselves has made the trip through that pass in months. And all contact with Akitomo’s people has been very formal and very limited. If anyone else had been within the village, I would know. Yet a thorough search of both my camp and the village has revealed nothing.”