Way Walkers: Tangled Paths (The Tazu Saga)

by Leigh, J.

  Shaking away the half dream, he sat up.

  “Can’t sleep?” Ass’shiri asked.

  “Seems to be a recent habit of mine,” Jathen muttered. “I just can’t stop thinking about Hatori and his past.”

  “I know. It’s horrible.”

  “But it’s not just that…” Thunder crackled angrily outside, as if the collision of his thoughts had unsettled even the heavens. “It’s the lying, the artifacts, the weird looks…”

  “You aren’t back on that again, are you?”

  “I know, I know. It’s just a feeling, a ghost in the dark I can’t put my finger on. It makes me wonder how much of this trip and how many of his actions have been to keep his secrets.”

  “He’s had good reasons, but I don’t think he’s playing some dark subversion game, Jath. He’s just not that type of Clansman.”

  “I know. But should we do anything about it?”

  Ass’shiri shrugged. “What’s there to do?” Lightning flashed, illuminating his face as he shifted on his couch. “Clan keep secrets. It’s what we tend to do, especially as we get older. The ones Hatori’s kept are monstrous because monstrous things were done to him. There’s got to be a lot of guilt and sorrow mixed up in there. Personally, I think we should let the man be.”

  “But I’m missing something, Ass’shiri.” The fragments of disjointed dreams and suppositions drifted through his mind like the tinted glass from the Montage temple back home, visible but ultimately unobtainable: Hatori turning away customers, only to let Jathen in; Hatori avoiding other Clansmen on the road, only to take on Setsuken; Hatori ranting about time, only to glare strangely at Jathen after Charmed Wind blew up. “I can almost make sense of it, but then... it’s lost, like this design for wings I tried to make once.”

  “Well, everything Nosalia said certainly clears up a lot.” Ass’shiri sucked air through his teeth, eyeing Jathen with a worried expression. More thunder crashed, making the house shudder. “I guess I’m just confused as to what’s still bothering you so much.”

  “It’s these dreams… these rumors about artifacts… then the lying… I just can’t make sense of it…” Mikkal sprang to mind, the odd voice of the dream, and the real memory of his caramel eyes glimmering as he asked, “Hatori Chann, was it?” He must have guessed Hatori’s secret. “Do you know any Way Walkers who are capable of dream interpretation? Maybe I can sort it out if I can figure out the dreams.”

  “Well, if you’re certain they aren’t precognitive, then your best bet would be a phine, but I don’t know about getting fully psychoanalyzed.” Another lightning flash lit up his dubious expression quite vividly. “Some of them might take one look at you and your angst-driven moot issues and just have too much of a field day.”

  “Actually, Ishane trained as a phine. She might be a good bet.”

  Ass’shiri sighed. “Just be careful. And take it all with a grain of salt.”

  “I will,” Jathen said, rolling over to the sound of more rolling thunder.

  Chapter 32

  Dawn came.

  Yuta dragged an obviously hungover Hatori down the stairs.

  When they reached the bottom, Hatori leveled red-rimmed eyes at Jathen and said, “Sorry to have put you out, Jath.”

  “Pah, to the boy you apologize, but to me, whom you just threw an antique bedpan at, you say nothing.” Yuta snorted. “No wonder Jephue’s in a tizzy.”

  “Shut up,” Hatori growled.

  “Well,” Yuta said, “if you want that ride to Nosalia’s, you best get moving, or you aren’t likely to sort any of this today. Hmm?”

  “Fine, fine.” Hatori looked at Ass’shiri. “Can you get home on the train? No use the pair of you waiting around for us, since I have no idea how long this sorting is going to take.”

  Ass’shiri nodded. “I think we can manage.”

  “Good.” Hatori smiled thinly back, an edge of determination to his voice. “Because I’m not coming home without him.”

  “Yes, yes, but you need to go see him first,” Yuta said. “And other people have schedules to keep too, you know.”

  Hatori glared at him, but he followed Yuta out the door with only minimal cursing under his breath. A few minutes later, Jathen and Ass’shiri left and headed for the train station. The streets were abnormally packed for the early hour. They wove their way through the crowd as best they could, but the going was slow.

  Checking his watch, Jathen said, “We’re going to miss the first train at this rate.”

  Ass’shiri stretched in an attempt to see over the heads of the people in front of them. “What the hell is with this crowd anyway?”

  Next to them, a Lu’shun with gray scales and gossip-eager eyes said, “Haven’t you heard? There was a mage fight last night.”

  Jathen was uncertain if he’d translated the Lu’shun correctly. “Mage fight?”

  The guy nodded. “Two energy manipulative Talents tore up all of Cierge Street and half of Manteau and Poignard. The whole place is cordoned off.”

  Ass’shiri whistled. “Spirit in Heaven. We were just on Poignard yesterday, on the way to the Zirconia. Anyone know what the fight was about?”

  A human on their other side answered, “All we know is it wasn’t any sanctioned Walker.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t a Walker?” Jathen asked.

  “Tar’citadel sent a team to assist in cleanup and to investigate,” the Lu’shun responded. “That’s the reason for the blockade. If it was a Way Walker, they’d have known it.”

  Jathen stared at him. “So two random Talents got into an argument and tore up a major intersection, and no one has any ideas as to why?”

  The Lu’shun leaned closer. “There are plenty of rumors going around. A lot of people claim to have seen Red magic flashing about in the chaos.”

  The human snorted. “Anytime some self-righteous Talents get too drunk and think to settle their stupid crap without regard to the rest of us, everyone claims to see Red magic. Just ruddy discourtesy is what this is. I hope the Walkers find them and box their damn ears.”

  As the line of people began to move again, Ass’shiri added softly to Jathen, “You can’t really discern Red magic from any other magic anyway, as spells aren’t specific to a Way. One fireball and everyone’s screaming, ‘Red Mage,’ but I know of plenty Rosin Walkers who can hurl those.”

  “It couldn’t have been that bad, anyway,” Jathen said. “Even with the thunder and lightning, we’d have heard something, even if it was halfway across the city.”

  When they turned the corner, Jathen let out a gasp, which was echoed by Ass’shiri.

  Cierge Street was in shambles. It looked as if some mad drunk had tried to till the street with a plow. All the cobblestones were torn up and scattered, leaving bare earth showing like open wounds. The elegant wrought-iron lampposts were bent and twisted, and every street-facing window had been shattered. Scorch marks covered everything, the beautiful marble and stone facades blackened and marred with ash.

  The scene reminded Jathen of some of his more pitiful drawings, all irrational lines and unnecessary shadows. “Spirit, how was anyone not killed?”

  “We don’t know anyone wasn’t,” Ass’shiri said grimly. “I hesitate to believe it, Jath, but some pretty high-level Ability would have had to be in play to cause this.”

  The unspoken word hung ominously between them—Red. Jathen shivered. Something very bad happened here. He clutched the strap of his pack and ignored the light buzzing of his watch. Not just some Talents in a bar fight.

  After a slight popping sound, a Walker wearing violet robes with black embroidery suddenly appeared in in the midst of the crowd, not far away from where Jathen and Ass’shiri stood. He began pushing through the people. When he got within a few steps, he stopped and looked around int
ently. His hard expression was replaced by one of bafflement.

  “Need help with something?” Ass’shiri asked in Tar’cil.

  The Walker turned to face them. His gaze went to the crossbow on Ass’shiri’s back. “No, Kasior. I thought I sensed… but no…” He shook his head. “It was nothing.”

  “Well, I’m not official,” Ass’shiri said, “but I’m staying down at one of the boarding houses in Ca’june if there’s a need for a bowman.”

  “Not official? A kasior?” The Walker’s intense blue eyes narrowed. “Would you mind terribly if I asked where you were last night?”

  Ass’shiri laughed. “Aw, I ain’t enough of a Talent to have made this mess, but I appreciate the consideration.” He grinned and nodded at Jathen. “My friend and I are travelling with a charm master. Last night, we stayed with an acquaintance of his, Yuta. You can put in a word with Lady Nosalia if you need us.”

  The Walker said, “I don’t foresee it, but thank you.” Then, with another abrupt pop, he teleported away.

  “That was rude,” Jathen mumbled.

  Ass’shiri chuckled. “Typical Rosinic. Truth be told, he wasn’t too bad.” He raised an eyebrow. “You really haven’t been around too many high-level Talents, have you?”

  “No, not really,” Jathen said. “Why does that surprise you?”

  Ass’shiri shrugged. “I would think a Monortith would have grown up with all sorts of Talents and Walkers buzzing about in service to the crown.”

  The crowd finally began to loosen a bit, so they finally started making some headway.

  “Chalk that one up to good old Kyanith’s odd sensibilities.” Kicking at a pebble, Jathen sighed. “Kyanith had this thing about not becoming too reliant on Talents. Petalith said it was a leftover prejudice from the fact that not a single Walker predicted the quake, and they were almost no help during the cleanup. So he decreed we would best learn from doing without them. I always just figured he was stubborn and stupid.”

  “Tar’citadel didn’t send anyone to help after a natural disaster? That’s absurd.”

  Jathen shrugged. “That’s politics. Tar’citadel has voted in a new council since then, but at the time, the ruling body was really conservative.”

  “Is that why you never went to Tar’citadel to train? Because Kyanith was prejudiced about such things?”

  “Ass, I didn’t go to Tar’citadel because I’m a ‘Talentless blunder’ and because I’m not good at anything. That had nothing to do with Kyanith’s prejudices.” Jathen rolled his eyes. “For once.”

  Ass’shiri glared at him. “Tar’citadel isn’t all Talents and Ability, Jath. You aren’t that much more numb than I am. You’re not any physically weaker than any other human I’ve known, and you are more than smart enough.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I say you are. Not that I’m an expert in such things… but still.” Ass’shiri shook his head. “You go on and on about Hatori, but in the end, you’re the one who doesn’t add up. It just seems strange to me. If your uncle wanted to get rid of you so badly, what easier way than to pack you off to Tar’citadel?”

  Jathen thought about that. “That is what they’ve done in the past with moots who were part of the more highly ranked noble families.”

  “I figured as much. So why not you? Like I said, you are smart enough. In Tar’citadel, you could have found a million things to focus on. Hell, I know of people who went into the university library and just never left, dedicated their lives to research. It just doesn’t make sense they wouldn’t have sent you.”

  Jathen was quiet a moment. “Maybe my mother said something, pushed for me to stay so I’d not lose my claim to the throne or something.”

  “Maybe.” Ass’shiri then added, “Seems thin, though.”

  “So do a lot of things lately, Ass.” Jathen sighed. “So do a lot of things.”

  Jathen and Ass’shiri were settling in for dinner when Hatori returned… alone. He entered the boarding house with no bluster or fanfare, so Jathen felt safe in asking, “Where’s Jephue?”

  “Putting a deposit on a property. He and Nosalia are going decoration shopping, and I thought I’d spare myself the high-pitched squealing they tend to do when finding pretty curtains.” Sitting at the table, he looked tired but contented. “He’ll be back here later tonight.”

  “So you two are sorted, then?” Ass’shiri blurted.

  “For the most part. For reasons I still don’t quite fathom, Jeph seems to have thought that the only reason I suggested a certain proposal was out of a desire to hold title on an actual property rather than a rental. Ruddy legal hogwash, but it was enough to set him off.”

  “So the wedding’s back on then?” Ass’shiri asked with a grin.

  “No, actually,” Hatori said. “At least not in the foreseeable future.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jathen said.

  Hatori waved a hand. “Entirely my fault. Nosalia was right. I’ve taken too much for granted over the years, and sadly, I must pay the fines for them now.” He poured some tea. “But there’s a certain emotional rationale to Jeph at times, and this is one of them. He wants to hold onto a formal shred of independence after being beholden to me for all these years. Who am I to deny him?”

  Jathen and Ass’shiri told Hatori about the ruckus in town and the rumors of a mage fight.

  Hatori stood. “I’m apt to leave the conjecturing of such things to Nosalia when I am in her city. Do yourselves a favor and keep your noses out of it as well.” He turned and left the room.

  The next day, Jathen visited Ishane. She led him to one of the mei bedrooms, where he laid his head in her lap and told her all of his worries. She was quiet through most of it, only asking a quick clarifying question or two.

  When he finished, she said, “It seems to me that there is a good chance your Hatori Chann was born a Rheadani.”

  Jathen rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain if he felt vilified or vindicated that she had come to the same conclusion so easily. The Rheadani were of the Clan Lands imperial bloodline, whose purest direct descendants had been thinned to but a handful in recent years. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. I think Ass’shiri suspects as well, but he won’t say so.”

  “Must either of you say anything?”

  “Not necessarily, but… it was just all so horrible—what happened to him, to his family—if we are correct about this.”

  “All the more reason to let the man be, don’t you think?”

  “But why has he never told me?” Jathen asked. “All this time, he might be royalty, cousin to an emperor who was a Walking Avatar, able to offer me so much knowledge on how to rule, and yet… nothing.”

  “I seem to remember you telling me not too long ago about how he ‘moans on and on about covert dealings’ and is always prodding you ‘to look, to think, to consider the world as a king would, not just a moot.’ Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it seems to me your makeshift father has been teaching you in his own way.” She gazed down at him, her blue eyes serious even as her pale azure bangs tickled his nose. “If you need a title and a bloodline in order to pay attention, then that is your failing, not his.”

  “I suppose.” He reached up and slipped a lock of her hair back into place behind her ear. “It doesn’t explain the nightmares, though.” He described the repetitive imagery and the overall unsettled feeling they gave him.

  She nodded. “I agree with you. They don’t sound precognitive. It sounds to me more like your subconscious is trying to tell you something that it’s overlooked.”

  The old one of smoke and fire with an unseen voice calling his name blinked through his mind, and he shivered. “Yes, but what?” He recalled the image of Mikkal speaking in that strange voice: You’re missing something, and you’re going
to die if you don’t guess what it is.

  “I’m afraid that’s not something I can tell you, my prince.” She kissed his forehead. “You’re going to have to try and sort out the images into proper meanings yourself.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Finding her hand, he entwined their fingers together. “I just wish I could shake this dire feeling.”

  “I bet I can help,” Ishane murmured in her husky bedroom tone.

  And indeed, for a time, she did. His anxiety and worry faded, and he recalled other feelings that had begun to stir in his mind—a melancholy want, a need to see something through. Afterward, they lay in the tangled silk sheets, and he traced the line of her spine with one finger.

  “Is there any way I can see you outside of here, maybe during the day?”

  Her eyes flickered, then she sighed. “It’s not really done, Jath. People will talk.”

  “Oh, people will talk no matter what you do. I’m going to be leaving Ca’june in a few days, moving up to Fauve. I’d really like to continue to see you… if you want to see me.”

  “Oh, Jathen.” Rolling onto her side, she regarded him with an expression somewhere between perplexed and vexed. “Mei aren’t meant to carry on anything beyond the moment.”

  “Did free will get lost to you when you entered the order?” He laughed. “I’m not asking you to leave the ruddy Way or anything. I’m just asking for a chance to see where this goes. Unless, of course, there’s nothing more here, and I’ve just been a besotted fool this whole time, failing Ass’shiri completely in my ability to maintain objectivity.”

  She sat up. “You aren’t a besotted fool, Jathen.”