Gloria Oliver

by In Service Of Samurai

  Toshi moved to the entrance and then stopped. Goose bumps sprung on his shoulders and legs, his eyes still unable to distinguish anything of what lay within. Taking a deep breath, knowing he really had no other choice, he closed his eyes, mumbled a quick prayer and stepped inside.

  The temperature dropped as he crossed the threshold. He shivered, his goose bumps multiplying, the prickling on his neck rising to a fever pitch. He opened his eyes, expecting to be enveloped by darkness.

  He blinked several times as his mind balked at the inconsistency he found around him.

  The room was not enshrouded by darkness as he’d expected, but contained only by a few weak shadows. Bright shafts of sunlight poured into the room from holes in the walls and ceiling, as well as from the entry. As he gawked about in disbelief, the goose bumps spread throughout his body. Seeing that the outside looked as he had left it, he decided perhaps it would be best if he didn’t think about what had just happened for a while. If he did, he might not have the courage to stay until he’d found what he was looking for.

  The room he was in was large and held a broad platform close to the far wall. Though he knew it would normally hold a statue of the main spirit worshipped here or a cabinet with sacred relics, it was empty. All the small statues and paintings honoring the other local kamis were missing as well.

  Only a small table sitting before the platform looked untouched. The walls were scarred and so was the floor. The dark writing he had seen outside was here as well. The yellowed, lightning-shaped paper poked out of every possible nook and cranny, accentuating the writing on the walls.

  He stepped closer to the wall on his right to get a better look at the writing. The rough, timeworn strokes spoke of demons and evil spirits. They proclaimed the place had been harboring the vilest of horrors. The writings told of how the grounds had been purified and the evil ones destroyed.

  He shivered. Skirmishes between religious orders were not unheard-of, but the evidence around him spoke more of persecution than a theological disagreement. How could the priests here have merited such destruction? Could the things those writings said be in any way true? Was this a place of vile horrors? And, if so, why would Asaka be sent here to retrieve a kettle?

  He stepped away from the wall, his heart uneasy. Could those writings have anything to do with the reason the samurai couldn’t come in here? Or was it perhaps that the spirits of the area were so angry at what had happened they would let no other spirits near?

  He glanced nervously about him, knowing he was destined to remain in this place for an unknown period of time. The teakettle he’d been told to find could be hidden anywhere in the compound. His search could take days. He had absolutely no desire to remain in the domain of angry spirits for a few minutes, let alone for that long.

  His gaze fell again to the small table before the platform. Impulsively, he walked toward it and placed a small part of his lunch on it as an offering. He bowed his head and clapped his hands together in supplication. Hoping the spirits were listening and willing to help, he asked that his search for the missing kettle be concluded quickly.

  “May I help you?”

  Toshi twirled around to see who had spoken, his hand instinctively falling to the hilt of his wooden sword. He’d half-pulled it out of his sash when his feet tangled together and he fell to the floor.

  His side stung as it smacked the hard floor, but he froze as his gaze landed on the man who had spoken.

  He wore the black-brown-and-white robes of a priest. A chain of white beads hung from his neck, and he held a tall walking stick with three bronze circlets looped about a ring at its top.

  He scanned the firm yet lightly lined face before him. Unlike most priests he had seen in his short life, this one didn’t have a shaved head but instead had silver-white hair that flowed halfway down his broad back.

  Toshi bowed as he stood back up, nervous as he came to realize the priest was standing between him and the way out. He tried to say something as the priest took a step toward him, but nothing came out.

  “Are you all right, son? I hadn’t meant to startle you.” The voice was kind.

  He found his vocal cords still didn’t want to cooperate, so he nodded yes.

  A hint of a smirk touched the priest’s face. Feeling foolish, Toshi slipped his boken back into his sash

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” the priest asked.

  Toshi looked up at him. “Yes, I am. Thank you. I guess I’ve been a little jumpy today. I’m fine, really.”

  “You’re not from the village, are you?”

  From the way he said it, Toshi was sure the priest had no doubt as to the answer.

  “No, sir, I’m not. I’m from Toyama.” He closed his mouth hard, realizing that, by telling where he came from, he’d opened himself to a number of unwanted questions.

  “That’s quite a ways from here, isn’t it?” the priest said. “You must have grave business to have let it carry you to such a desolate place as this.”

  Toshi forced himself to stay silent.

  The priest’s deep-brown eyes pierced him where he stood. “Silence can at times be taken as an indication of admission.”

  Toshi tore his eyes from that intense stare and looked away.

  “You’re searching for something.”

  Toshi’s gaze snapped back to him in surprise. He couldn’t help but notice the priest’s faint smile still clung to his face.

  “I am, sir, but please don’t ask me about it. You shouldn’t get involved. It could be dangerous.” He shut his mouth again, realizing he’d been about to say too much once more.

  The priest’s hard stare seemed to soften. “Might you be looking for a kettle?”

  “You know of it?” He instantly cursed himself for a fool. He knew he’d just given himself away.

  The priest’s smile broadened, but it no longer held a trace of humor. After a moment, he turned and walked away. “Yes, I know of it. Many have come searching for it over the years. None have ever found it.”

  Toshi waited to see if the priest would say more, but he didn’t. He took a step back, his hand falling on the hilt of his boken as a sobering idea occurred to him.

  “Are you also looking for it?”

  The priest laughed. “There are a number of others that will give better tea than that kettle. I have no need of it, or its mysteries.”

  “So, you know why it’s so important?” he asked.

  The priest turned to face him, an odd look in his eyes. “Don’t you?”

  He started to lie, but changed his mind right before he spoke. “No.”

  “Then why do you seek it?”

  He hesitated, knowing he couldn’t give an answer.

  The priest suddenly took a menacing step toward him. “Tell me.”

  He blinked, ignoring the command, startled by the fact he thought he’d seen a flash of light in the priest’s eyes. He kept his eyes on the man, trying to see if it would happen again, but it didn’t. Had he imagined it?

  The priest took another step forward. Toshi took one back.

  “Tell me.” The priest’s tone was more insistent.

  “I’m doing it because the others can’t,” he answered. “Because they’ve been looking for it for a very long time and deserve to find it. Because…” He paused. “Because without it, I’ll never be allowed to go home.”

  He didn’t know why he’d inserted the last. He felt trapped by the priest’s stare and had only meant to say enough to satisfy him and yet give nothing away. He knew he was failing miserably.

  The priest released Toshi from his gaze and stepped to the small table containing Toshi’s offering. His staff made a jingling noise as he walked, though it had never made a sound before.

  The prickling started up again on the back of Toshi’s neck. Something wasn’t right. He doubted this man was what he seemed.

  “Finding the kettle carries a price,” the priest said.

  Toshi was intrigued by the words despite his
fear. “A price? What kind of price?”

  The priest glared at him for a moment, not answering. “Are you willing to pay the price?”

  Toshi took a step away from him. The prickling on his neck got worse.

  “What kind of price?” He held even more tightly to his boken.

  The priest stepped toward him.

  “Will you pay it?” His voice was soft but very insistent.

  Toshi glanced at the entry, and the freedom awaiting him beyond it. Then he looked back at the priest, who seemed to be promising a greater freedom if only he was willing to pay some undisclosed price. He wasn’t sure if he should believe him. The longer he hesitated, though, the more convinced he became that, for some reason, this would be his one and only chance to find that which he sought.

  He fought to stand straight and took his hand off the boken.

  “All right. I’ll pay your price.” He almost quivered at the cold grin growing on the priest’s face.

  “So be it.” The priest closed in on him.

  Toshi tore his eyes from that cold grin even as the room abruptly turned chilly. He felt a wave of dread flow through him. He’d felt that cold before.

  He looked up, sure he’d been tricked, just as the priest loomed over him. He gasped as he stared into the priest’s eyes and saw two pink lights emanating from within them.

  He tried to back away but found he couldn’t make his limbs respond. His eyes grew round as the man before him lost his solidity until Toshi could see through him. With a scream trying to form on his lips, he felt a burning sensation cut into him as the priest’s hand disappeared into his chest. The priest stepped forward, merging with Toshi’s body. He was swallowed by darkness.

  Chapter 15

  Toshi worked. There was nothing for him but the work. So much had been left undone for so long. And there was so little time! He had to hurry, hurry. The prize would be his if he could do it all. The past would be erased and everything would be all right again. Balance would be restored. The spirits would be at peace.

  He toiled, thinking of nothing but the work, the priest always with him, in him.

  The sun hung over him as he swept the paths and cleaned the walls. The statues watched him, giving him strength, bidding him go faster. When the sun disappeared, he worked inside. Old tools found him, and he put them to use. The red words were washed away, driving back the stains that normal eyes couldn’t see. The floorboards were pried up and burned, new ones cut to take their place. There was only the price and the prize, the price and the prize. And he had to hurry.

  Chapter 16

  “Toshi.”

  A small groan echoed in the room, mingling with the faint remnants of the call. After a small while, he realized he’d been the source of the former.

  Someone had called his name.

  He blinked his eyes open, but it was several minutes before his mind acknowledged what they were seeing. Something gold and blazing sat before him. He groaned again, this time louder, his brow furrowing with aimless concentration.

  Someone called his name again.

  He stared at the bright thing before him, and by degrees he tried to make out what it was. Eventually, his fogged mind argued with itself that what was before him was and wasn’t the sun. Overwhelmed by the seeming incongruity, he closed his eyes and then opened them again. As he looked once more at the blazing sun, he noticed the deep darkness surrounding it. Something sparked in the back of his mind. He was now sure what was before him wasn’t the sun.

  The faint voice called his name again.

  Allowing his gaze to roam past the object, he realized the field of darkness was finite and curved at the ends. His brow furrowed again as he stared at what he could see, his mind nagging him that what was before him was somehow important to him.

  He tried to focus his thoughts to try and remember why the thing was important. Gingerly, he let himself fall back. He discovered he was staring at the ceiling. It occurred to him to wonder where he was.

  Turning his head, he looked around the room. The place looked familiar, but something about it was different from before.

  “Toshi…”

  Rolling back onto his side, he struggled to get up onto his hands and knees. Getting there, he then tried to sit. After a long interval he was successful. Yet he’d spent so long on the one task that he had a hard time remembering why he’d done it.

  His name was whispered into the room again.

  He studied his surroundings more carefully, and noted the new wooden planks lying on part of the floor.

  Looking up at the walls, he noticed they’d been repaired as well. There were things missing, too, and after a moment he remembered what they were. All the warding paper was gone, and so was all the writing on the walls.

  The broken furniture had been taken away, except for the small table by the platform. He sat very still as he stared at the familiar table. His breath quickened in recognition of what he saw there—a long walking staff with bronze rings hanging at one end.

  His memories snapped back into clarity as abruptly as a summer typhoon rushing past the coast.

  Forgetting the staff, he swung his gaze to the object that had been left beside him. The black kettle with its embossed sun stared back.

  “Toshi…”

  For the first time since he’d awakened, he understood his name was being called from outside. Unable to take his eyes from the beautifully decorated but otherwise common kettle, he waited breathlessly for the call to be repeated. When it was, he listened to it, trying to make sure he wasn’t mistaking it for something it wasn’t. He violently shook his head from side to side and then waited for the call again. He was sure he had to have heard it wrong. What he’d heard wasn’t possible.

  The call was an almost unrecognizable shadow of a voice, and it whispered to him again through the bright daylight. He understood what it said, and his mind insisted he knew the caller. But it just wasn’t possible.

  Could it be some sort of trick? Yet the only person he knew that might be after him would be unable to call him during the day.

  He tried to get up but fell back on the floor. Trying once more, but more carefully this time, he was able to stand. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a little woozy. After taking a few deep breaths, he was able to get his vision to steady. He glanced outside.

  The courtyard seemed very much like he remembered, except it looked cleaner, neater than it had before. No one was there. He scanned as far as he could see, but saw no sign of who was calling to him.

  He decided to do something about it.

  The voice called him again.

  With his mind made up, he turned around and checked himself. As far as he could tell, he had no injuries to speak of, though he did feel strangely tired and drained.

  Next to the kettle, he found his few possessions lined up in a row. Sitting back down, he checked them.

  His bamboo canteen was over half-empty and became even more so after he took a long draught from it.

  A small part of his lunch remained; and he ate ravenously, though he had no memory of ever having eaten any of it.

  He felt better after he was through, so he stood up. He bent to pick up his boken and slipped it through his sash. He reached for the kettle’s handle, not sure what to expect. There had been no sign of the priest since he’d awakened, other than the staff sitting on the table. Had the priest already exacted his price?

  He pushed aside the question as his name rang once more on his ears.

  He picked up the kettle. The priest didn’t appear. He felt no prickling on the back of his neck. He assumed it was all right for him to take it.

  Sending one last glance around the cleaned room, he still saw no trace of the dead priest. He bowed deeply in the direction of the empty platform and thanked the spirits for their help. Turning his back on all of it, he made his way out into the waiting sunlight.

  He felt no temperature change as he stepped outside, like he had on his way in. He gla
nced behind him and found he could easily see into the temple’s interior. He was suddenly sure the priest was gone.

  Whatever had held him there was over.

  As he stepped down the new flight of stairs attached to the porch, he found he no longer had any fear of the place. Oddly enough, he felt at peace within it. Grateful for the feeling, he decided not to question it.

  Heading toward the broken gates, he was amazed at the amount of work that seemed to have gone on around him. All the leaves had been raked away. The weeds had been pulled from the garden. Rocks had been replaced in the meandering path. The ivy and the dark writing had been cleared away from the inside of the outer walls. Had the priest done all this using his body? Was this what the price had been?

  He hesitated at the threshold of the gate. Asaka’s final command whispered through his mind. With suddenly wary eyes, he stared at the area surrounding the outside of the compound.

  He’d been told to wait within the temple grounds until the samurai came for him. Yet he had no real idea how long he’d been unconscious. If he was responsible for all the work he saw had been done around him, there was no way he could have done it in a day.

  He heard his name called again.

  The voice was more distinct here than it had been within the temple. Never in his life had he heard such despair. How long had it been calling for him, and why?

  If the things Miko had told him before were to be believed, he should be safe from the ninja during the daytime. Though Asaka had told him to wait, he felt a great need to find out who was calling him. If somehow the ninja had found a human accomplice, it would be better to find out now.

  With one hand on the hilt of his boken and the other on the prize they’d all come so far to claim, he left the temple grounds.

  The sun dipped to the west as he waited for the voice to call again so he might try to follow the sound back to its source. It did so.

  He advanced to the right, sure that was the direction the voice was coming from. He kept his gaze sharp as he stared into the shadowed trees. His heart beat a little faster as he followed the right wall of the temple grounds into the forest.