by Noah Ward
The younger man glanced at the old man across the room. “I’m--” he began, but Saito ignored him and approached the reedy man in the corner. Beneath a veil of long, thin hair, hollow, bloodshot eyes stared back at him. He tensed at Saito.
“I’m not here to harm you,” said Saito. “I just want answers. You can earn yourself some aians if you answer.”
The old man reached out a thin arm and extended twig-like fingers to pluck the pipe from its little resting prongs on top of the tube. He inhaled deeply. White smoke curled out of a mouth with no teeth.
“I know why you are here,” he croaked.
Saito licked his lip. “You’re Bozu.”
“Been in Akimaru for ten winters. No one had cause to call on me. Not until after I sold it.”
“How did you obtain it?”
Bozu’s eyes misted over. “You know, yakura is made from krystallis.” He took another toke, releasing the pungent vapor.
“Mixed with the hanayuki flower. It only grows around the Gashul mountain range,” said Saito.
Bozu looked up at him and smirked. “Mostly.” He studied Saito’s face. “You were in the war.”
He nodded.
“You knew what Zenitia was like before.”
“Dying. Clans feuded. Spilled blood. Fought over what little they all had.”
“Who thought war would unify them, eh?”
Saito shrugged. “They chose poorly. But what does a monk know of war?”
“I know of its effects,” he said through a cloud of smoke. “People suddenly seem to believe in the shogens in times of need and curse them regardless.”
“And how exactly did someone so devout as you find yourself at the bottom of a yakura pipe? The shogens plan for you? Man forges his own destiny.”
Bozu loosed a hacking cough. “Is that what you think? Many just do not see the strings that pull them.”
“Then who pulled your strings, old man?”
Bozu examined the pipe in his wrinkled hand. “It began as a way for Shizanagi’s bosan to cross to the white wastes. That is what they believed.”
“There are no shrines to Shizanagi, not any more,” said Saito. “No one prays to that shogen--”
“To do so is to damn oneself, so they say.” Bozu leant against the wall. “I arrived here after your war, to help rebuild the shrines. I soon found Retsudan’s dogs would rather destroy them than help them flourish. Still, we needed aians. And Retsudan’s people were more than happy to trade aians for hanayuki.” He licked his cracked lips. “But then my brothers and sisters found out. They did not deign to give back the aians I had brought them, however.” Bozu chuckled. “That was all cast to winters gone by. I had to keep it--couldn’t sell it. Until the time was right, however. Until he told me so.”
Saito frowned. The thoughts of an addled mind. Perhaps Saito should have been thanking the shogens that he had found the old man temporarily lucid. However, his tenuous grip on reality seemed to be fading.
“And where did you find it?” sais Saito.
Bozu’s brow furrowed. “At their shrine, of course.”
“Where?” Saito leaned forwards, fists clenched.
The old man leaned his head on the bare wall and let it loll to the side, staring into the black mouth of the corridor.
“The temple of Daikameda. That’s where you will find it.”
A great weight shifted from Saito’s shoulders. He felt like he wanted to collapse right there.
“My thanks,” he breathed and went to hand over the pouch of aians.
Bozu pushed his hand away. “I’ve done my part.” He took another hit of the pipe, then leant against the wall and shut his eyes.
Saito couldn’t shake the gnawing sensation in his gut that tried to anchor him. He had his lead. It had all been worth it. They could all reach Daikameda. Soon, it would be theirs. Soon, everything would be as it should be.
He placed the pouch by the old man’s pallet before heading back up the ladders. The thing was crouched, still as a statue. Saito didn’t even think it had moved in the time he was down there. With a look of curiosity and disdain, he wrapped his arm around its leash and began dragging it back to the outside.
“Soon, it’ll all be over,” he told it. “Then maybe you can find some peace.”
31
Long Time, No See
Kaz slid the door shut behind her, leaving Shay staring at the scratched wood. Without the woman by her side, as it had been for the past several days, unease crept back into her stomach. It had been a stroke of great fortune for this...peculiar man to intervene on their behalf. Now the two of them were alone in this silent, rickety house, the euphoria bled away to leave cold reasoning in its wake.
“How...did you know I was coming to Akimaru?” Shay said, turning to the thin man in his tatty robes.
Denjuro cocked his head to the side, confused. “The master is a man of considerable means. He has known about your arrival for some time.” He looked over his shoulders then leant in. “And, I feared the person who had kidnapped you would not have let you go if they knew who he was.”
Shay took a step back. “Kidnapped me? Kaz? But she…” Her eyes hovered towards the door.
“You were to be escorted to the city by Retsudan’s soldiers when your transport was attacked. Though it took is more time than we would have liked, we sent one of our own to negotiate your release but the one you called Kaz killed him.”
Shay’s knees felt weak. She dragged herself towards the table and seating cushions at one side of the room and let herself sink. None of this was making sense. What Denjuro was saying was a lie, wasn’t it? Retsudan’s soldiers had captured her, chained her up in the back of a krystallis-powered carriage.
But they had never said why, Shay, and you’ve seen how people get around sworn. Maybe they were just being cautious?
“I am sorry if this comes as a shock,” offered Denjuro, but Shay was barely listening.
Kaz had refused to tell her who she had battled with at the shrine and she wanted to keep her away from the village. Could it have been so no one recognised her?
But you wanted--begged-- Kaz to take you to Akimaru.
Did it take the woman time to see her true value?
“We are lucky that you have survived in Zenitia this long,” said Denjuro. “Especially in the company of a ryojin like her.” He shuffled to stand over the table. “But we have you now.”
Her shoulders sunk. “What...will my father say?”
“The master only wishes you to be safe.”
“My mother...never told me his name. Refused to. Will you...tell me?”
Denjuro cocked an eyebrow. “It is Saito Kitagami, the sworn hero of Retsudan’s war of unification. He is a man to be praised.”
Saito Kitagami...a hero of war. Could that really be true. That raised even more questions.
It didn’t make any sense. Her head was a whirl. She needed something to latch onto.
“When will my father be here?” she said, eyes full to bursting to hope.
“Soon,” said Denjuro. “But I think you had best rest a little while. You have had a long journey.”
Shay nodded numbly as Denjuro encircled her forearm with his skeletal fingers and helped her to stand. Mind still retracing every step she’d taken with Kaz, dissecting every conversation she’d had with the woman for signs of manipulation, the thin man led her up the bare, creaking stairs to one of the rooms. She looked up to drink in a stark room, little more than a pallet and roughspun sheet and single window, more a cell than living space. Still, she didn’t care.
“I will be back soon,” Denjuro said behind her.
She barely heard the door’s lock click.
Kaz had said she expected recompense for bringing her to Akimaru. Hadn’t that simply been an exchange of services? She still had the necklace and intended to meet her father. Was that just a lie so Shay didn’t ruin the role of patsy in a game played by adults?
Hadn’t you been lying
from the beginning? Why are you so surprised, Shay?
Shogens, she wanted to scream. She was too worked up to sleep. She went for the door and found it locked. Her hand tensed. A slab of wood didn’t have to be an obstacle…
Tears born of frustration arrived unbidden and Shay didn’t attempt to stop them. Allowing herself to weep at her confusion and doubt, at a time she was supposed to be happy, was somewhat cathartic. A few minutes later, she found she couldn’t be bothered with it any longer and rose from where she had curled up next to the door.
Wiping her tears away with her ratty sleeve, she approached the window and slid it open. The view to the rear of the house was of a thin, cluttered alley. She couldn’t tell if the others houses in this row were inhabited. Shay poked her head out of the window further to survey the area. Would this be where she would live from now on? It wasn’t very...homely. What did her father do, exactly? It did not look like he was wealthy, though he had people in his employ. Denjuro claimed he was a merchant. And if he dealt in krystallis, that meant he could have some serious aians. This could just be one of his houses for when he was in Akimaru and not travelling the country.
Her mind was busy wandering for a few moments until the beating of wings arrested her attention. A large bird--bigger than anything she’d seen circling the docks in the distance--bombed out of the sky to stop in the alley below. She craned her head to get a look, but was obscured by the first floor’s sloping roof.
Straining her ears, blocking out the sounds from the main street behind her, she swore she heard voices. Was that Denjuro? Had her father arrived?
Curiosity got the better of her and she found herself squirming out through the window and onto the roof. The snow was not as heavy in Akimaru as it had been on the road, and her boots offered enough grip so that she did not slip as she inched forwards to take a peek.
The bird, which she now realised was more like a falcon with a strange leather hood on its head, had landed on the outstretched arm of someone talking to Denjuro. Though she couldn’t quite hear what they were whispering, the thin man was busy rolling up a piece of parchment, which he slotted into a hollow tube on the falcon’s leg. Shay, however, was more concerned at the person acting as the impromptu perch. Their face was mostly covered with a kerchief and bandanna, but they had strange, dark circles of glass and wire covering their eyes.
The falcon suddenly beat its wings and gave her a fright. She clasped a hand over her mouth and took a step back so they couldn’t see her. But when she dared look over the lip of the roof again, cold fear settled in.
The glass adorning the woman’s face had been knocked away by the falcon, revealing eyes that had been stitched closed.
It had to be her. But she was dead. Had been dead? Who the fuck knew…
All Shay did know was that this wasn’t right. Not any of it. She felt she could trust no one. Everyone was lying to her. Her father probably wasn’t even coming. He had never been here from the start. She was the pawn in some game and had no desire to discover what it was. It may well end with her dead or worse.
There was only one thing she could do, and that was head to the place she had planned to from the start.
◆◆◆
Well shit, the old man had been on to something there. Gin had just finished listening in to the conversation between Kuma (or Denjuro as he claimed to be called now), some female ryojin, and the girl named Shay--who was possibly Saito’s daughter.
He honestly didn’t know what to make of it all. It provided him a piece of the puzzle. But Asami and Saito were in Zenitia on other business. The massacre at the bandit camp and what followed were part of something bigger. That was what he truly needed to know. However, he was content waiting for that.
Gin wasn’t sure what he expected when he set off from the inn to the slums. While he was not certain of the house’s location, Asami’s helpful directions had proved enough to give him a general area. Then he’d simply bided his time until Kuma had appeared with two people in tow. At the time, he hadn’t envied the prospect of trying to engage them if all other options had run out, all the while constantly battling the fear that the one who had attacked him in the warehouse could reappear. Gin had ensured he was more careful on this occasion, and it had paid off.
When Kuma had locked the girl in the room, Gin had followed him to the alley at the rear of the house. Not fully healed, he was finding it difficult to maintain his immaterial form, and hoped whatever the emaciated man was planning would be swift.
Someone appeared at the other end of the alley and strode towards Kuma. Gin couldn’t tell if they were a man or woman because of the wrappings around their head. Stranger still, they had held out their hand, only for a falcon to land on it moments later.
Feeling himself slipping, Gin bled out of the darkness and instead took up his station just inside the house, in the kitchen area Kuma had exited from, observing through a slit in the sliding paper doors.
Kuma fed a piece of rolled up parchment into a tube attached to the falcon’s foot. When it batted its great wings and burst into the sky, it knocked the glasses from the face of the one who had been holding it.
Shogens…
Gin’s hand instinctively reached for his tanto. That was rather unnatural: the person’s eyes had been sewn shut. It didn’t appear to affect them though and they placed the dark lenses encased in wire back on their eyes.
“You will follow the ryojin and ensure her package is delivered, do you understand?” Kuma said to it, all the while rubbing his skeletal hands. He received a muted response, a simple nod, before they set off down the alley.
What do you think that was all about, Gin? Sounded like a double-cross to him, and he’d been part of a fair few of them…
32
A Friendly Chat
Kaz exited the dilapidated house and felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She was finally free again. At the end of all this madness, she’d ended up coming out with a small fortune in aians and one of the best leads she’d had in some time.
However, she wasn’t so foolish to believe that the strangely thin man and Shay were telling her the truth. The man Shay had travelled to meet was probably not her father, could be some kind of underground krystallis dealer for all she knew. It didn’t matter.
As she set off towards The Resting Swallow, she spared a look back to the house. It was almost strange not having the girl at her heels. Despite her anchor-like qualities, hauling the girl across Zenitia had certainly not been dull. Maybe Kaz saw a spark of herself there, but she told herself it was not so great she’d spend any more time with her than necessary. The very real possibility she was still being hunted hung around her neck. Staying in larger cities did nothing to conceal oneself, and the sooner she was free of Akimaru the better. If luck was with her, she’d be hunting down that chunk of krystallis.
Kaz couldn’t help a small pang of euphoria rising. It had all been worth it. Now she’d earned a bath, some good food, and a stiff drink.
The path through the slums and past the first level’s smithing district did not take her long, and she arrived at The Resting Swallow within the hour.
The inn itself was more upmarket than what an individual in Kaz’s profession might choose. She picked it for a number of reasons: one, she didn’t want to mix with other ryojin, who mostly kept to dingy and cheap accommodation, content to drink, gamble and screw their time away between jobs. Second, this place had excellent food and bathing facilities. It was not the usual heated wooden tubs a lot of places had. There was an actual, krystallis-powered hot spring located under the inn’s very own yuzuu tree. After time on the road, it was the perfect remedy for sore feet and wind-bitten skin.
The innkeeper of around sixty winters, Anzai, raised her eyebrows in recognition. She was a small thing, grey hair tied up in a bun, wearing baggy robes. It was the serving men and girls that did all the work.
“No messages,” Anzai said to her as she approached the desk.
Th
ose who wished to contact Kaz specifically for jobs could send requests to the inn while she was away. While she would count no friends on her hand, she could list several people who would provide her with work. Unfortunately, the one responsible for her last job was now dead at the hand of some human-looking creature leading her to swear off all in-person requests.
Kaz placed several silver hans on the counter that would cover her lodging for a couple of nights. Old lady Anzai offered a curt bow and extended a thin, wooden plaque. Burnt into its lacquered surface was a lark, denoting her room and also allowing her access to the inns other facilities should she need them.
Two serving men approached her. She handed one of them the chest and the other her pack of items she’d taken from the keval. They escorted Kaz up the left set of stairs to the inn’s second floor. Through the back, the main hall led to the dining area and tea house, while an alternate path trailed outside to the hot springs.
Her room was the same as it had been for as long as she had stayed here. Divided into two sections separated by a sliding door, one half contained a padded sleeping pallet and storage space, while the other half was more a lounge area to sit and eat.
Kaz indicated the men leave her belongings in the bedroom and fished into her robes to retrieve a few bronze onos.
“Send a bottle of sarrai to the private spa,” she told them as she dropped the coins into their waiting palms. They bowed and then exited the room in silence.
Kaz kneaded her eye sockets with the heels of her palms and let out a sigh. With her lacquered slat in hand, she made for the spa, feeling a mild celebration was in order.
Approaching the female door to the baths, the girl at the door slid it aside when she saw Kaz’s identification. There was a temporary pause when she saw the blades at the woman’s side, but recognition dawned on her a moment later and she handed Kaz a towel and silk gown.
