Wolf's-own: Koan

by Carole Cummings

  Of course, the fact that most of the other patrons in here kept slipping quick looks at Joori, too, and then at the man, like they were waiting for him to do something, didn't hurt Shig's conclusion that, if the man was not precisely the one they wanted, he was at least going to be a good place to start. She turned to Samin with a smile she hoped was merely pleasant, and not as smug as she thought it might be.

  "He recognizes Joori,” she said happily. “Right now, he's trying to figure out how he got a haircut and a shave so quick.” She looked around at all the bemused faces looking back at her, waited for a beat, then huffed and rolled her eyes when none of the confusion cleared. “Helloooo?” she said impatiently. “He doesn't really recognize Joori, because Joori's never been here. His twin has."

  * * * *

  Goyo shifted his shoulders, though he knew it would do nothing to ease the discomfort. “Everyone seems to have new wards lately,” he muttered as he took a swig from his cup. The beer here was terrible but the wine was probably the best he'd had.

  "Can you blame them?” Seb asked with a shrug. “These are uncertain times."

  "Mm,” Goyo agreed. He tilted his head. “Did you know that at least several of those taken by banpair over the past several years were of the old magic?"

  Seb stilled for just a moment, but that was all. “And...?"

  Goyo sat back in his cushion. “And it would seem to me that it should perhaps interest Rihansei."

  "No more than it should interest you.” Seb stared off at a spot over Goyo's right shoulder. “Maijin, after all, are of the old magic."

  "Maijin were,” Goyo corrected. “And those few who remained from the days when the world was Daichi are now banpair. Ironic, isn't it? To live so many centuries, maijin true to their gods, and then suddenly....” He set his fingertips together then splayed his hand. “Poof. Gone to banpair then gone rogue, and no one can find them. Unless someone knows something even the gods don't."

  Seb snorted. “Even you don't believe the gods to be infallible."

  "No. It's why I even exist, after all.” Goyo took another drink. “You do think there's a connection, or you wouldn't have said even the little you have. You're just as worried about the banpair as Dakimo is."

  "All should be worried,” Seb answered, still staring, but he dragged his eyes back to Goyo's for a moment, somber. “Save your questions for Rihansei. The things you want to know are not things I can tell you."

  Goyo kept in a curse. “I know who he's got down at the Gate, Seb."

  Seb narrowed his eyes and then pointed them once again over Goyo's shoulder. “Then you don't need my answers. And you know why I can't give them to you."

  "Tell me Rihansei is not involved in this."

  Seb gave Goyo a look filled with such disgust that Goyo nearly regretted asking the question. Except it had to be asked.

  "Rihansei is older than you are, maijin,” Seb snapped. “If he'd wanted to challenge The Six, he could have done so long before now."

  Goyo kept his expression set, though his eyebrows wanted to snap up into his hairline. “And is that what you think this is? Some sort of challenge?"

  Seb sighed and set his glance once again over Goyo's shoulder. He was silent for quite a while, just staring, brooding, then he raked his fingers through his wispy white hair. “Even the one we do not name was nothing more than a mortal magician once. As were his children.” He paused with a grimace and took a long drink from his cup. “Rihansei could have surpassed the unnamed's power and ambition long ago, if he had the desire to test Fate and lay waste to the Balance.” He set his glance on Goyo for a long moment, frank, before pulling it away again. “One of Rihansei's greatest strengths is his lack of ambition. And his ability to learn from the mistakes of fools. Old magic is as necessary to the gods as the moons—the fulcrum between the two is the place from which Balance was born. We are the other end of the lever upon which sit The Six."

  "Thank you for the completely unnecessary history lesson,” Goyo growled. “But I've got too many things that are happening now to worry about. And one of them involves speaking to Rihansei and the man he's taken to the Gate, and finding out what any of this has to do with banpair."

  "Everything has to do with everything,” Seb mused, stroking at his white beard, which—now that Goyo noticed—looked like it had been caught on the wrong end of a blind gardener's pruning shears. “Balance will be found, and all of Fate's creatures will play their parts. Even Goyo Snake's-own."

  Goyo'd had just about enough. “Take me down to the Gate, Seb. I need to see Rihansei. I need to see the man he took there."

  "You know I cannot. Once a man has approached the Gate, there is no—"

  "Damn it, Seb, I'm not one of your wide-eyed students. This could very well be life or death for the—” Goyo cut himself off. He'd almost said the Incendiary, and though he was almost certain it would be no surprise to Seb, there was no way to be sure unless Seb said it first. “This could be life or death for the man Rihansei is hiding. Serenai won't be the only one after him, now. And not all respect Rihansei's place in the Balance. He could be in danger too. Is that a risk you're willing to take?"

  "It is not my risk,” Seb answered with a sigh, jerking his chin a bit. “Nor quite yours, I'm thinking."

  Goyo followed the gesture over his shoulder and turned to see a large man with a stone-cut face rising from cushions three tables away, his blue eyes very obviously on Goyo and Seb. Still, that wasn't what arrested Goyo's attention and made him stare. Nor was it the fact that Naro-yi of Owl was sitting at that same table, amiably chatting with its other occupants. What arrested Goyo's attention was that he'd only a little while ago been telling himself that there were so few Jin in Tambalon. And there two sat at a table only paces away from him.

  Goyo met the two sets of down-tilted eyes that stared back at him with narrow interest, then followed the progress of the big man as he approached, all cautious assumption and looming purpose. Goyo sighed.

  * * * *

  Jacin didn't remember passing out. In point of fact, he was pretty sure he hadn't. The thick, muzzy fog seemed more like a hangover, and the nauseating throb in his head rather lent credence to the theory. His tongue felt gritty and his throat was bone-dry, and everything else just plain hurt. Which just might be the result of having been out cold for who knew how long on... well, he wasn't sure. It was stone-hard and just as chilled, so he guessed it was a floor, but he didn't open his eyes yet to find out. The last time he'd woken in similar conditions, he'd had Asai hovering over him, so he took a bit more caution this time. At least it wasn't raining.

  Voices muttered not too far away, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Two of them, one of them female, which brought Leu to mind. Jacin wanted to scowl, but he didn't dare move so much as an eyelash yet, not until he figured out where he was and what kind of circumstance he happened to be in. Considering what Leu had done the last time Jacin had seen her back in Ada, he wasn't expecting much better this time.

  A steady drip-drip-drip sounded beneath the hum of voices, but it seemed distant, like it was maybe miles away and merely echoing back to him. It gave him a sense of vastness and claustrophobia, all at once. He smelled poppy smoke, a lot of it, soft and heavy in his nostrils, and a damp earth scent that brought Asai to mind, which was strange, because Asai had always smelled of jasmine, until Jacin had killed him, and now he smelled of ash. A deep, driving wish for the scent of pine-sage-sex wended through Jacin, nearly choking him, and he let it settle in his chest for a few moments before pushing it away.

  Damn you, Malick. I need you, you promised.

  Jacin took inventory. The pain in his leg was somewhat sharper than usual, but familiar and so not a concern. The pain in his palm was smaller, more of an annoying stinging itch now, so he ignored it. There were sore, overused muscles wanting attention, but nothing felt pulled or misaligned, so those he ignored, as well. The only hurt he couldn't place was a small jabbing twinge at the back of
his neck, just at the start of his shoulder, and since he'd seen what had taken Malick down, he thought he might now understand why he felt like he was coming down from a days-long high.

  Fuckers drugged me.

  It was when he tried to surreptitiously flex his fingers, get some blood flow going, in case he needed to make a quick break for it, that the scrape of metal to stone clued him in on just exactly how trapped he'd allowed himself to become. He slitted open his eyes and followed the length of the thick chains from the solid metal bands around his wrists and up to the heavy bolt that connected them to the stone wall against which he lay crumpled. A tiny, jewel-green lizard blinked lazily back at him from its perch atop the metal links of the chains. Jacin squinted back and thought about how undeniably fucked he was.

  He didn't even have to check to know they'd taken his knives. Even the walking stick, which he last remembered being swung like a cudgel by that Seb.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  "... once Untouchable. No one knew. Kamen was trying to keep it that way."

  That was Leu's voice, followed by a light chuckle in a lilting baritone.

  "Kamen would.” They sounded like they were coming closer, so Jacin shut his eyes. “There is the beauty of the Jin in him. Kamen never could resist a pretty face. Or a challenge."

  "Don't underestimate the... attachment, Rihansei."

  Rihansei. That was the name of the man Leu had demanded just before... whatever had happened that Jacin couldn't remember, which had apparently ended with him getting drugged and chained to a wall. It was also the name the little man at the stall had given Jacin. Just how badly had Jacin pissed him off?

  Jacin hoped he'd managed to at least take a few of them down during whatever had gone on in the small black hole in his memory. Then again, that Leu had apparently not yet bled to death, so he wasn't terribly optimistic that he'd made a decent showing.

  "... if you want to stay on Kamen's good side. He won't be happy about any of this when he gets back.” Soft bootsteps sounded on stone; Jacin hadn't even realized he was lying amidst a sea of the tiny lizards until they stirred into an abrupt swarm around him and scattered, diving into hiding as Leu stepped in. From the sound of it, she stood just behind him, her boots only inches away from Jacin's curled back. “Don't forget—Kamen risked his soul for this one. He risks it again, just by handing over his talisman."

  Jacin almost frowned but controlled it. He'd known, but hadn't really thought of it in such plain terms before. Hadn't even paused to spend a bit of concern on what Malick was risking by handing that ring over to someone who... well, to someone like Jacin.

  Why would Malick do that? Wasn't that how that Skel had met his end? Malick had given Jacin the ring not once but twice—and he really ought to have known better. Jacin wouldn't have trusted himself with something so... critical; what gave Malick the right? And how was Jacin supposed to keep that trust safe when Malick wasn't here to keep Jacin safe?

  Damn you, Malick. What were you trying to prove? Don't you know I'm a fuckup?

  Strange, how it was only now that the greedy notes in Asai's voice when he'd remarked upon “the little Ghost's bauble” were only now registering in Jacin's remembrance.

  "I can't imagine what he was thinking,” Leu said. Jacin could almost hear her shaking her head in dismay. “But this one wears Kamen's faith. I can't risk anyone else finding him, not with that, and not being what—” She cut herself off and went silent.

  Jacin stayed limp and pliant as a hand landed on his shoulder and rolled him to his back. But when that hand settled over his, tugging at Malick's ring, he couldn't stay pliant anymore. He snapped up and reached out at the same time, wrenching himself up into a crouch and snatching at Leu. She jolted back quickly, like she'd expected it, and the short length of the chains prevented Jacin from lunging after her.

  "You see why I thought it best he be restrained,” she said wryly as she dragged herself up. “And disarmed.” Her hazel eyes had never left Jacin's, and he glared back into them with every bit of anger in him. “It isn't what you think, Fen-seyh."

  No? He hadn't been attacked, drugged and chained to a wall?

  "Allow me to apologize for the... accommodations,” said the soft baritone.

  Jacin shifted his glance just enough to take in the man who was slowly—and perhaps somewhat painfully, it seemed—lowering his bulk down to crouch in front of Jacin. White-haired, and big—bigger than Samin. The hair and beard were long and straight and white, as well, like that Seb, and there were tattoos everywhere, but the similarities ended there. This man's skin was nearly as white as his hair beneath the intricate ink, and his eyes.... It was no trick of the light, Jacin decided. The irises of the man's eyes really were red.

  "I am Rihansei. And this....” He gestured around them. “This is my sovereignty."

  Jacin's gaze roved the small, dark space, with its bare stone walls and its guttering lamps set around a small pool steaming in the center of the... room. Cave? Dungeon? It reminded him of the baths in the Girou, which made Jacin think of Malick. His eyes stung, and that just wouldn't do, not now, so he pushed it away.

  More chains hung from the wall opposite, right beside a pile of bright-colored cushions set next to an ornate water pipe, which in turn sat next to what looked like a tea scuttle steaming over a small peat fire. The walking stick was propped to the damp stone wall just beside it. Dozens of the tiny lizards slouched like a spray of emeralds around the edge of the pool. Jacin didn't know what to make of any of it.

  Was he supposed to be impressed? He let his eyebrow rise and his mouth pinch down. Because he really wasn't. What he was was completely fucked.

  You're not anyone's but Fate's until you choose a god and pledge yourself. Until then, you are more or less up for grabs to all of the gods, and any of their Temshiel or maijin who might be sent to persuade you.

  Well, this was one form of persuasion, Jacin supposed. This Rihansei didn't look like either Temshiel or maijin, but Leu was. She was Wolf's, as far as Jacin knew, but she'd worked for Asai.

  Unfortunately, you're also vulnerable to any of them that might decide an Incendiary is too dangerous and try to get rid of you.

  Was Leu still Wolf's? Had Wolf decided the batshit Incendiary wasn't what he wanted after all? Or had Leu lost her god and gone looking for another to take her? She was maijin, so maybe she'd fucked up enough to be exiled to banpair and intended to snuff out the Incendiary for whichever god—or gods—wanted the abomination gone. Which might not be such a horrible thing, but there was also Joori and Morin to consider. Because if Jacin let himself die now, would Imara's promise to Malick to protect them hold? And even if it did, what would happen when Malick got back?

  They're nothing to me but tools to please you with, and if you're not here, I've no reason to keep them around. Everything's a fucking trade, right? Here's mine—you're gone, I'm gone.

  Jacin hadn't been sure if he'd entirely believed it when Malick had made the threat, but even so, was it a chance he had the right to take?

  And anyway, what had happened to all of that freedom bullshit Jacin had talked himself into believing only... probably hours ago? Why, when actually faced with the possibility, did all of his if I never have to know, I'll never have to care reasoning fall apart like shattered glass? He cared a lot. Just the thought of Joori and Morin looking at him with Caidi's dead eyes....

  He should have known he'd been fooling himself. He had known he was fooling himself, but with Asai in his face all the time—pushing him harder than Malick had ever had the ruthlessness to do, seemingly trying very hard to deliberately shove every bit of sanity from Jacin's mind altogether—fooling himself had seemed like a better alternative. It wasn't an alternative here. If he wanted to get out of this—and he did—he'd better start paying very close attention.

  Rihansei was still staring at him with those unnerving red eyes. “Such a busy head,” he murmured, reflective, “for one who so rarely hears his
own voice.” He stroked at the silky white of his beard. “So many lives buried inside you, although... I think not all of the shrouds are of your making."

  "Rihansei,” Leu said, warning, “I brought him here to hide him, not so you could—"

  "And once he stepped through the Gate, he ceased to be your concern.” Rihansei turned a mild look over his shoulder.

  Jacin snorted—he couldn't help it—and scowled between the two of them. “I hardly ‘stepped through'."

  "No?” Thin white eyebrows lifted. “And you remember this, do you?"

  Rihansei smiled a little when Jacin tightened his jaw. Because no, Jacin didn't actually remember. He remembered... hands on him, and... taking a swipe at Leu, and then dark eyes coming at him, and... nothing. He slid his gaze to Leu's arm; her sleeve was cut neatly and stiff with dried blood, but the skin Jacin knew his knife had split was smooth and unmarred.

  "A Temshiel of Raven fell to your knives before my men managed to... calm you down."

  Rihansei shrugged unapologetically when Jacin's hand went to the back of his neck, the chains clinking echoes in the little dungeon. He looked at his hands, at the smears of blood caked into the whorls of palms and fingertips.

  "I killed a Temshiel?” Jacin peered between Leu and Rihansei, trying to fathom why they might lie about something like that, and if they weren't, why the hell couldn't he remember it? He had a vague idea that should terrify him, but he reminded himself that it was quite possible none of this was real, so what was the point of fear? “Was I not supposed to?"