Ryojin- the Bonded Blade

by Noah Ward

  He craned his head forward expectantly, waiting for clarification Shay couldn’t provide. The woman beside him joined in, shortly followed by Kaz, so that three sets of eyes were fixed on her. She felt as tall as blade of freshly cut grass at that moment. All this way, overcoming every obstacle, only to be undone because she failed to pull a name out of her arse. Not to mention she’d be letting down Kaz. The fact that getting past the gate would only have delayed the latter did not afford her any comfort.

  Shay cleared her throat. “Well, if I can remember correctly.” She licked her lips and stared at the people beyond the gate. Could she survive running for it? Probably not. And Kaz would be screwed. “It’s, ahem, just by the inn.”

  “Which one?” the guard folded his arms. “There are many.”

  “The one by the crossroads…”

  “Which. One?” he said again, leaning closer to her.

  People were poking their heads around shoulders behind her. Some were shouting for them to hurry up.

  Oh shogens. She should just admit it.

  “I--” she began.

  “Let them through,” another guard called over.

  Shay’s stomach nearly fell out of her arse in relief. Releasing the breath she’d been holding, she did her best not to collapse to the mud. She couldn’t bear to look at Kaz, because the woman would surely know she had been lying, so she focused her attention on her savoir.

  By the finer, cleaner quality of his leather armour and crimson symbol on his chest, he occupied a higher station. In his gloved hand he held a rolled up scroll. Shay had no clue what it said or who had written it, but it had liberated her from a prison of lies.

  The two guards who had detained them shrugged at each other and parted. The one in finer dress behind them beckoned them to enter. She didn’t look behind her, but the footsteps padding in the mud told her Kaz was still in tow.

  “This way,” said the guard with a tilt of his head. “See to their keval,” he instructed another guard. He led them off to the right, to a squat two-storey building. It connected to a wall curving around Akimaru, so must have been some kind of guard station. Was who she’d been searching for this time been a guard to begin with? Maybe her capture somehow made sense now.

  Her heart started racing again, even more than before. She restrained herself from dashing ahead of the guard and bursting through the door. It was over. Finally over. Thank the shogens.

  The voices all melted away. She didn’t even care about the lies she’d spun for Kaz. It’d all be okay.

  The guard opened the door to an office. There was a desk with another one of Retsudan’s soldiers sat behind it, weapons in racks against the bare wooden walls, and shelves stuffed with scrolls.

  The man swung right and opened another door. He held out his hand for them to enter. The two complied. He closed the door.

  Hope turned to dread in an instant. What was going on?

  “There you are!” said a brittle voice.

  The room was small with only a table and some kind of hoop affixed to the floor. Beyond was a cell. It looked like it was for interrogation. The owner of the voice was sat on the floor, wearing cape and hood that covered a thin frame.

  Shay didn’t respond. Instead she frowned, glanced at Kaz for the first time since the gate, who appeared equally bewildered.

  The man on the floor rose and grinned at her. He was not what she would call attractive. His back was hunched, she could count the teeth missing in his mouth. With his shaved head and shallow features, Shay was unable to guess how many summers he had endured.

  Was this...him? No, it couldn’t be. The way her mother had spoke of him. It just didn’t fit; she backed off instinctively.

  “It has been years, my dear,” the man said. “The master has been praying for your safe return.”

  Oh, thank the shogens this wasn’t him. Well, people had said she looked more like her mother regardless.

  “Oh...I’m glad to hear it,” said Shay.

  He shuffled over to her and, before she could snatch her hand away, he took it in his palms. It felt like sandwiching her skin between two clammy fish.

  “I am Denjuro,” he said with a smile. “I have served the master for many summers. You probably do not remember my face.”

  Shogens, a face like that one could not forget. She couldn’t place him, however. Not wanting to be rude, she smiled and nodded. “I think I may.”

  Denjuro turned to Kaz. He did not reach for her hand, but she kept both arms behind her back, perhaps anticipating him.

  “I am Kaz. I brought Shay here. She hired me on the journey to provide safe passage,” Kaz offered.

  Denjuro nodded along. “Thank the shogens. The roads are dangerous despite Retsudan’s presence. Please, both of you follow us to the master’s house and I will see you are rewarded justly.”

  Kaz shifted her gaze to Shay, who offered her a weak smile.

  “Lead the way,” said Kaz, not betraying any hint of emotion.

  Denjuro offered another view of his ruinous mouth before shuffling out of the door and into Akimaru’s streets.

  The sun was well out and Shay felt the heat more keenly than she had outside the city’s walls. The mass of bodies, livestock, and buildings had a habit of cranking up the warmth regardless of the time of year. After being on the often lonesome roads and forests of Zenitia, it was a little overwhelming plunging into a place so swelled with life. While daunting, she did her best to keep pace with Denjuro as he expertly wove through the crowds.

  “You’ll be fine,” said Kaz from behind her, placing a hand in her back to shove past some bickering merchants.

  Shay had to remind herself not to linger too long on the stalls or the women behind barred windows beckoning men or the homeless and broken begging in the gutters or strange animals being led across her path or--

  “This way,” said Denjuro, veering off to the right.

  Shay kept pace with the hunched man and was surprised that, despite his impediment, he was quite nimble in movement. Funnily enough, he did veer off towards the docks. The shops and dwellings here were more tightly packed than the other thoroughfares they had passed, and, if she had to be honest, a lot dirtier. When she cast her mind back to this day, she hadn’t accounted for someone shitting in the street so close to it…

  “Just here,” Denjuro said as he looked over his shoulder and came to a stop at a street corner.

  The area itself was unassuming. There were two- and three-storey buildings constructed from rotting wood and shattered shale on each side of the road. People wandered around, there were decaying crates piled atop each other. Denjuro kept shuffling along to the door of a house that looked a hair nicer than the others--in that it did not look like it would immediately collapse when the next breeze came.

  The frail man wandered up the small steps to the house and slid open the door. It was poorly lit inside. He turned out of sight. Shay looked over her shoulder to Kaz. The woman glanced at the door, hand on the hilt of her blade, and nodded for her to enter, keeping just a couple of paces behind.

  The house smelt of must and age. It was colder than outside. It didn’t exude somewhere that was lived in. The room they entered had a small fireplace off to the side, with a table and a few cabinets. There were sliding doors in front, beyond which she could not see, and a set of stairs leading up to her left.

  “Please,” said Denjuro with a slight bow, beckoning them further inside.

  Shay complied with tentative steps towards the centre of the room.

  “I am sorry for the house,” he said. “The master is not home often and has no family, so it is mostly I.”

  “He’s...he’s not here?” Shay said.

  “No,” said Denjuro. “He is conducting business but will return shortly. He knows you are here.”

  A thrill of anticipation clutched at her stomach.

  The frail man looked to Kaz. “Now, I am assuming you require some recompense for your efforts?”

&nbs
p; “Yes,” Shay said. “He--she was very helpful.” She turned to Kaz. “I wouldn’t have made it without her.”

  “Aians will do,” said Kaz.

  Denjuro nodded, as if it were obvious. “I hope what we have as payment will be acceptable. If not, the master will be happy to negotiate with something else.”

  “There was another part of our transaction.” Kaz dipped into her robes and pulled the necklace out from underneath her armour. She held it out for him to see.

  “That is...krystallis,” said Denjuro. His eyes drank in the onyx jewel.

  “The girl promised me information on it.”

  “That would be the master’s domain,” he said. “I would ask that you give him some time.” His hand extended to indicate Shay was the object hindering her answers.

  “Of course,” said Kaz.

  “But in the meantime, allow me to give you what you are owed.” He smiled again and shuffled off up the stairs.

  Kaz folded her arms and stared down her nose at Shay, making her feel like a child. “Your uncle?”

  “Not, er, him, but he’ll be here...later,” she said, staring anywhere else but the woman.

  “And your uncle will tell me what I need to know, will he?”

  “I believe so.” While her original claim had not been a total lie--he had originally obtained it--Denjuro had inferred he was involved in the business of krystallis. In fact, if she were being honest with herself, everything had seemed to work out rather well. “Though, I can’t speak for what he knows, as I said.”

  “You said he knew about it.”

  Shay backed away a little and Kaz’s glare immediately softened.

  “It’s...been a long day…”

  “I wasn’t sure if we’d even make it when I was by myself,” Shay said. “But, something told me I could if you were there.”

  Kaz sighed and shook her head. “Don’t sell yourself short, Shay. Few people could have made that journey. But you’re here now.”

  “Will you stay here, in Akimaru? Will I, er, see you again? Maybe you could teach me more of the sword?”

  “I don’t know.” The woman walked forwards and placed a hand on Shay’s shoulder. “Deal with what is in front of you for now.”

  Shay knew what that meant…

  “I know I’d like a bath,” she said, feigning a smile.

  “You’re not the only one.”

  The stairs creaked and Denjuro appeared a few seconds later. He held a small chest in his brittle arms. The weight of it looked like it would snap his limbs.

  “I hope...you will find this...satisfactory,” Denjuro huffed. His brow was misted with sweat. Kaz took the small chest from him. “Please, feel free to check its contents.”

  She flipped the latch and opened the chest. A shallow pool of gold aians lay in its open mouth. A small fortune.

  “My thanks,” said Kaz, nodding. It didn’t seem to faze her in the least. She tucked the chest under her arm.

  Shay felt like she should say something more, but her mind was a muddle. Drained, apprehensive, thankful, it was all a morass of emotion should couldn’t make sense of.

  “Thank you,” Shay managed, with a slight bow.

  “You’re welcome,” said Kaz, and began walking towards the door. She stopped. “I will be at The Resting Swallow, an inn on the second level. Send word when you have time.”

  Shay smiled and this time it was genuine. “I will.”

  And with that she was gone, leaving Shay in a strange house, with a strange man, waiting for a stranger to return.

  30

  Down

  Saito had arrived in Akimaru earlier that morning, having ridden his keval into the ground to reach the city by daybreak. The guards, thankfully, did not recognise him. Those posted on duty were all too young to have had an active role in the war, most likely too green to enlist. Their superior officers may have distinguished him, but at that time in the day, they were still lying on their mats. Most knew the higher-ups in Retsudan’s army by deeds alone, rather than appearance. When the guard had checked his paperwork, he waved him through like just another dignitary he had claimed to be.

  The biggest issue was the cage-headed figure who had ridden with him during his night flight. The thing always looked on the precipice of death, with its sallow, liver-spotted skin, but it had remained silent. Before heading into Akimaru, he had purchased a large wicker hat and hood for it. The old thing looked ridiculous but those allowing him entry were in no position to refuse him passage.

  He eschewed his keval upon entry. It was less conspicuous travelling on foot. At this hour, the chill was pronounced and Akimaru’s slums were still bustling. Its proximity to the docks and border of warehouses saw workers passing through, usually in groups, for a more circuitous if less safe route to dock work.

  The stench had him fastening a kerchief around his jaw, leaving his eyes and ponytail of white hair visible. Saito usually wore it long, only tying it up for battle, but he’d take any edge at staying anonymous. Plus, if he were being honest, he didn’t like the thought of shearing it off. She’d always liked it long…

  He knew locating the one Ichiro had called Bozu would be a slow task while events around him moved fast. Contacting Asami and soliciting her help had crossed his mind, but he had her working on something equally important. This was his task. While Mei was planning to meet him later, he wanted something concrete to bring her, and Suzaku and his sister were still a day from the city. One member of Retsudan’s sworn could get by unnoticed; any more and they were asking to be spotted. Saito was not so foolish that other daimyos had their informants and kamen in Akimaru.

  He didn’t fancy explaining the mess at the bandit encampment and the inn. Saito knew people saw him as a villain, a murder, Retsudan’s lapdog, but he had insulated himself from it for winters. That guilt was an open wound; it made him doubt himself, his path. The next piece would wash that self-doubt away. He was sure of it.

  Saito curled the creature’s chain leash around his forearm and stood close to him, so to anyone caring to observe it appeared like he was escorting a humpbacked elderly person along the streets. And it was a good job he had not foregone the leash; upon crossing the threshold into the slums, the old thing cocked its head up, suddenly alert.

  After casting about to make sure no one was paying much attention to the odd couple, he said, “You can sense it, can’t you?”

  The thing grunted. Whether that was affirmation or confusion, Saito hadn’t a clue. When it shuffled off, threatening to take his arm with it, it turned out to be the former. Heart starting to race, he followed.

  Despite its diminutive size and apparent frailty, the thing set off at quite a clip. It danced through groggy and intoxicated residents, dodged groups of sailors, and wove through grimy, cluttered back alleys until finally coming to a stop, huffing, across the road from a decrepit building.

  By the unnatural tang of something chemical caught in the breeze, he knew that they had arrived at the yakura den. The three-storey building’s windows were shuttered, though several holes marked the rotten wood. A few passed out, middle-aged men were hunched in the dirt outside. Saito didn’t know if they breathed, and they had accumulated a light dusting of snow.

  He took a breath and steeled himself. The door to the den slid open when he applied enough force. A blast of acrid air hit him in the face. Sweat, the burning of the yakura powder, something rotten, and human misery created a heady concoction. He thanked the shogens he hadn’t removed the kerchief.

  Inside, darkness pervaded. The broken slats of wood across the windows invited lances of light to skewer the darkness, highlighting bodies sprawled on mats, glinting off the glass tubes and leather hoses affixed to them which people used to inhale the yakura. Muttering voices reached his ears, but they were nonsensical and not aimed at him. Surveying the space, none in the wide open areas to his left or right had paid any attention to his arrival. They continued smoking, bringing with it the bubbling of water. So
meone had their hands out in front of them, continually passing it through a shaft of light.

  Saito sighed and slid the door shut behind him. He approached the nearest person to the entrance, a woman--a girl--of fewer than twenty winters if he had to guess. The sight brought on a sudden wave of apprehension. But before he had chance to interrogate her, the creature pulled on its leash.

  Following its lead, it headed the for central hallway but did not take the stairs. Instead, it moved towards the rear of the house. The rotten floorboards suddenly relented to a black hole. Upon closer inspection, he spotted the ladders descending into darkness.

  Most houses in Zenitia had basements; the cold climate made it ideal for storing produce in cities where leaving it in small lodgings opened oneself up for theft. From the looks of it, this had been here upon the house’s inception, though that did not inspire confidence.

  “He’s down there?” Saito asked it.

  It responded with excited grunts and what he thought was a nod.

  “Wait. Here,” he said. “Do not move until I return.”

  Another whine. Saito untangled himself from the chain and then descended.

  The air was not cleaner down there, but it was colder. Where at once he thought there was no light, it turned out to be false. Lamps were lit and positioned on various old crates or on the dusty floor, but their flames were so weak light failed to reach the small corridor housing the ladder.

  The space had once had walls made of wood, but they had mostly been torn away. A few pallets adorned the floor, along with the rugs, and more of the long, glass tubes where water bubbled and the acrid scent of yakura hung thick in the air.

  Saito surveyed the basement’s occupants. The room was, perhaps, wide enough for five strides, wall to wall. An old woman was curled up on one of the pallets. Not her. A man of middling winters was on another. Too young. Two elderly men sat on opposite sides of the room. No one acknowledged him.

  “Bozu,” Saito said. No one looked up. The woman muttered to herself. He decided to speak in a more universally understood language and withdrew the pouch from his robes. Jingling its contents garnered him some attention. “Bozu.”