Elemental Origins: The Complete Series

by A. L. Knorr

  The island zoomed by underneath me. It was a sharp contrast of rocks and trees, bare slabs of gray rock dotted with green moss. The sounds of voices and boat engines became distinct. The Tai Island fortress appeared as I crested a bluff. If I had been in human form, my jaw might have dropped. The fortress was enormous and striking. Half built upon a rocky promontory jutting out into the sea, the outer walls seemed to rise up into the sky forever. Surrounded by a rectangular courtyard stood the heart of the fortress and the most spectacular tiered structure. The corners of each roof winged up slightly in classic pagoda style. Built by the Imperial Japanese Army, behind the outer walls there would lay a labyrinth of interconnected underground passages and trenches connecting every above ground emplacement and every below ground bunker.

  Some buildings and sections of wall were crumbling and overgrown with vines and moss. Only half of the fortress was lit, the half closest to the ocean and the center fort. Three of the six floors of the interior castle were illuminated.

  I winged over the courtyard and settled in the branches of a tree. Sitting still, with only my head rotating on its axis, I took in the full view of the courtyard, the open gate leading to a dock, and the front steps of the castle. The ground was steep and uneven, leading down to the sea. At the lowest point was an open gate where new arrivals would enter. The sound of a boat could be heard through the open gate and voices on the other side of it.

  A new wave of yakuza poured in through the gate. Men in simple clothing and demure postures appeared from the castle and descended the steep crumbling steps to meet the arrivals. Luggage, both square and strangely-shaped, was ferried into smaller buildings. It was easy to separate the servants from the masters during all this activity.

  Men and women, dressed mostly in business attire, strolled the overgrown and unmanicured gardens in the courtyard. They smoked and talked in small groups. My owl eyes easily picked out many hands with missing fingers.

  As a bird, my sense of time was tied to the movement of the sun and moon, and the changing light throughout the day. It was easy for me to tell how the hours were passing within any one day, but pile day upon day and I easily lost track of time. I sat in that tree until the sky grew black and the human shapes all drifted inside the castle. More lights flickered on and the sound of talk seeping from the windows thickened.

  I flew to the eaves of the first-floor roof and landed, changing into a pigeon. I hopped along the eaves, soundless, my little head darting and listening. I found an open window and dropped onto the sill, peeking inside.

  The interior of this room was dark and heavy with wooden beams and timbers. People sat in small groups, talking. A wall to the rear of the room slid sideways and a woman in full geisha dress entered, carrying a tray of drinks. She floated through the room like a ghost, as though simply standing on an invisible conveyer belt.

  The sound of women's voices talking softly behind me had me flitting back up the eaves and taking the shape of the strix again. At least a dozen women, all petite, slender, and attractive, were being escorted from the gate to a building across the courtyard, separate from the castle fortress. I watched them walk, heads tilted slightly down, glossy black hair reflecting the moonlight, floating along on tiny steps. More geisha, I guessed.

  Women's voices directed my attention back to the gate, these ones louder, and with more laughter. Half a dozen women followed the first group, but these without the mincing steps. All of them were blondes. They went to yet another building.

  I watched as the last of the geisha disappeared into a small castle structure of their own, followed by a couple of older-looking women. My opportunity had presented itself.

  At the sound of another boat engine, I flew over the courtyard and past the outer wall. There, I perched in a tree where I could see the dock. The lights of two more motor boats were drawing close to the dock where men stood waiting to help unload the boats.

  I watched as another dozen women were helped onto the dock. The same older lady I had seen leading the first batch of girls appeared from the fortress entrance and picked her way down the dark steps and to the trees. I could see easily that she was unsure of her footing from the lack of light. The steps were uneven, and probably slick with moisture. She wore a black suit jacket and slacks and had a small clipboard in her hand and a pen between her teeth.

  She finally made it to the water’s edge, stepped up to the dock, and clapped her hands like she was herding schoolchildren, not grown women. The ladies gathered close and I could hear the madam taking a kind of roll call. All of the women carried purses, but only some of the women were carrying larger bags. Costumes, I presumed.

  Satisfied that her girls were accounted for, the madam led them off the dock and up the stone steps.

  Two possibilities raced through my mind. I could change now in the privacy of the bushes and trail behind the last girl, hoping that no one noticed in the dark, or find a way inside the fortress as a bird and change then. I didn't know what awaited me once I was inside, so this opportunity seemed as good as any.

  I flew into the bushes near the walkway, dumped my black silk onto the earth, and phased. Twigs poked and scratched me everywhere as I scrambled to undo the knot in my robe. I pulled on my thin covering and the silk slippers and crawled closer to the stairs where I could see feet taking the steps up and heard the chatter of multiple female voices. My heart hammered in my chest so hard I felt breathless. As the last pair of legs passed, I glanced at the boat dock and saw the dock men chatting with the drivers and paying no attention. Quick as I dared, I slipped out from the bushes and silently fell in line behind the last girl. Fighting to keep control of my breathing, I followed the crew, feeling like any moment a hand was going to clamp down on my shoulder and single me out. But the madam was far ahead, and the girls were so busy chattering that no one seemed to notice the small girl in the black silk robe and slippers.

  Heart pounding, I marched through the courtyard and up the steps of one of the fortress buildings.

  Chapter 14

  "We are falling behind schedule," snapped the madam, clapping her hands sharply together. For a moment, I was reminded of my mother, clapping her hands to move Aimi and me along whenever we dawdled. I found myself ushered down a hallway and into a room full of steam and lined with showerheads. The tile floors tilted toward a drain and soapy water swirled and gurgled as it disappeared into the floor. Robes were hung on pegs just inside the door, and reluctantly, I took off my black silk and hung it up. My body was immediately damp.

  Pale bodies slick with soap and water stood under every showerhead, scrubbing and shampooing. There was some nervous laughter and conversation in low voices. The tension in the room was even thicker than the steam.

  "There," the woman said, hooking a hand under my elbow and pointing to a showerhead which had just become free. The girl who had turned off the water was wrapping herself in a cotton towel. She handed me a slimy bar of soap as we passed.

  "Have you done this before?" I asked the girl beside me, whose head was white with suds.

  She squinted at me with one eye before closing it again and tilting her head back under the spray to rinse. "Nervous?"

  "A little," I replied. In fact my knees felt weak with fear.

  "You're here with me, so you're not a trained maiko, or a geisha. Just mimic them as best you can and you should be fine. Don't say or do anything stupid, and try to go for the ones that smile and laugh a lot."

  "Mimic the geisha? Which ones are the geisha?" I craned my neck at the women around me.

  "They're getting ready in another room. They keep their costumes locked up. Full geisha dress and jewelry is worth well over three million yen." She lowered her voice, and added, "And they don't trust anyone here."

  I blinked at her. "And what are we?"

  She flipped off the water and grabbed a towel from an overhead rack. I did the same.

  "We're the pretenders," she said, surprised. "Your house didn't prepare you very wel
l, did they. Where do you come from?" She grabbed a second towel, blotted her face, and wrapped up her hair.

  "Oh, uh, Kyoto." I dried my skin off.

  "Me too. Which house?" She headed for the door.

  My stomach was spiraling downhill fast, along with the situation. What if this girl found out I was an imposter? I said the first vague thing I could think of. "It's a house in Yamashina Ward."

  She frowned. "I didn't know there was a house in that area." She grabbed a cloth bag from a peg by the door and I snagged my black silk and followed her out into the cool dark hallway.

  She introduced herself as Chiyoko and I gave my name as Yokana.

  "Not enough trained geisha, and no real maiko at all say yes to these events. So they hire us to bolster the numbers," she said under her breath as we wandered along the cold stone floor. "They dress us similar to geisha but with enough differences that the men can tell us apart. That way if we slip up, they are more forgiving."

  "Slip up?" I asked as my teeth began to clack from the cold.

  She pushed her way into another room. A space heater stood in the center and I sighed with pleasure as the heat washed over my freezing and wet skin.

  "Yes, with the geisha way," she said. "Why don't you take the place beside mine? It's free. I know how you feel. It was my first year once too. It's a little nerve-wracking, but you'll be okay.”

  Right.

  I froze when I saw the vanity lights and mirrors lining the wall and realized that every girl here was applying makeup from a personal makeup bag.

  "Think they'll notice if I don't wear any makeup?" I asked with a laugh.

  She gave an authentic belly-laugh until her eyes skimmed me and realized I actually didn't have a makeup bag. She stopped laughing and her eyes grew wide. "You're not joking, are you?"

  I shook my head and bit my lip, giving her my best 'please help me' expression. "I was told the makeup would be provided," I whispered.

  She let out a long breath. "Your house sisters must hate you." She put a hand on my forearm and her eyes darted about the room before settling on me again. "They've played a terrible joke on you, and shame on them for it. If Madam Kameyo knew, you would be taken aside and punished."

  I let my eyes grow round with fear. Little did this girl know that I was up against someone a lot more terrifying than Madam Kameyo.

  "Don't worry," she said quickly. "I'll help you." She shifted her makeup bag over so it sat between us. "We can help each other, in fact. My partner from last year didn't come this year. Something happened to her last time that must have frightened her." She unscrewed the lid from a pot of white paste and picked up a brush with wide flat bristles. She fished in the bag and pulled out a fat hair clip. "Here, tie your hair back."

  "Something frightened her? Like what?" I asked as I twisted my wet locks up and clipped them to the top of my head.

  Chiyoko took my chin in her fingers and lifted my face to the light. "I'm sure you can guess," she said. "What do you think happens at an event where we are not allowed to say 'no'?" She said this so matter-of-factly that I had to wonder for a second if I had heard her correctly. "Well," she rolled her eyes. "You are allowed to say no," she added, "but they advise against it." She said it with emphasis gave me a look full of meaning. "Not something I would really want to test," she said under her breath. She dipped the brush in the paste and began to paint my cheeks with the cool mixture.

  My fingers became ice-cold. I hoped she wasn't talking about what I thought she was talking about. "Say no to... a game of poker?" I raised an eyebrow. "Beer? Making papier-mâché masks?"

  She bit back a smile. "Nice to see you have a sense of humor about it." She frowned and paused in applying my make-up. "I'm sorry your sisters didn't prepare you better. It's not funny to play with someone's career like that."

  I made an appropriately angry face. "Yes, I will have to talk to them when I get back."

  "Shhh," she shushed me as she painted under my nose, across my lips and down my chin. "Be still or I will make a mess." She dipped the brush again and painted my forehead, earlobes, cheekbones and jaw. The brush strokes tickled under my chin and down my neck. "Turn please." Chiyoko's fingers gripped my shoulders and I turned around so my back was to the lights. "Collar," she said.

  Somewhere in the deepest recesses of my memory I recalled some village girls in Furano whispering about how the geisha leave two stripes of clean, makeup-free skin down the back of their neck. I pulled my robe down off my shoulders and held it closed in front of my chest.

  Chiyoko's fingers tilted my head forward. The brush strokes down the back of my neck and across my upper back made me shiver.

  "I know," Chiyoko said. "This part always gives me goosebumps, too." The brush strokes slowed down as she applied the white paste, leaving two inverted triangles down either side of the back of my neck. "Okay, face me again."

  I turned back to Chiyoko's critical gaze as she inspected her work. "What do you think? Good enough?"

  I looked at myself in the mirror and gave a start. The ghost staring back at me looked nothing like me. Even my lips and eyebrows were completely white. My usually light golden eyes looked almost black peering out from the pale geisha mask my face had become.

  "Looks good," I said, hoarsely. I cleared my throat and fought the urge to scratch an itch on my cheek.

  She nodded and handed me the pot and the brush. "Sorry, I only have one brush," she said shrugging. "Beggars can't be choosers." She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the light for me.

  "It's nice of you to share." I dipped the brush in the makeup. As I painted Chiyoko's face in the same way she'd done mine, I found myself thinking that in another time, another place, another circumstance, Chiyoko and I might have been friends.

  Chiyoko became a porcelain doll in front of my eyes. The paint erased all natural skin color and covered every freckle, mole, and scar.

  "So, is this event always on Tai Island?" I asked.

  Without opening her eyes, Chiyoko made a sound of affirmation. "For as long as I've been coming, anyway," she mumbled through stiff lips, trying not to move.

  "I heard," I said casually, "that Mr. Yukimura has quite a collection of samurai artifacts on display here. Do you remember seeing anything like that here last year?" I dipped and painted, dipped and painted, across her jaw, down her neck to her collarbones.

  "Turn?" she asked, eyes still closed. "Feels like you're done the front."

  "Yes."

  She turned her back to me and tilted her face forward. "There were some nice decorations in the great room last year. I don't know if they were actual artifacts or just replicas, but knowing Mr. Yukimura, I wouldn't doubt their authenticity. He has a reputation for being a generous patron to the museums in Kyoto."

  "Oh, really? That's nice of him." I was proud of myself for keeping a straight face. "Is the great room where the party is?"

  "Yes, but there are a lot of other rooms used for more private parties and things." She frowned. "At least I would guess that's what they're for. Don't really know. I've never seen anything aside from the great room and a few of the suites upstairs. The place is a maze, and Madam Kameyo doesn't like it if we wander for no reason."

  "Right." My skin prickled at the thought of what Chiyoko would have been doing with the yakuza in those upstairs suites. "But if I got one of them to show me around? Just a little tour for interest’s sake?"

  Chiyoko shrugged. "If you're with one of them, you can go anywhere." She cocked her head to look at me out the corner of her eye. "You're really curious about this place?"

  "I love history," I said. "Straighten please."

  She put her face forward, straightening her neck for me. "Just make sure you keep the conversation about them and not about you," she added. "These men love to have a woman think they're fascinating and that they know everything."

  This seemed like excellent advice. "Thanks for that," I said, and meant it. I painted the back of her neck and upper back,
leaving her skin blank and making the smooth lines as best I could.

  "The irony is that half of these girls are university students. Med students and law students. Brilliant women playing simpletons for the night." For the first time since I'd met her, I heard bitterness creep into her tone. "Some of them will get tangled up in relationships with men here."

  "I can only imagine," I said, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. “Okay, I think you're good."

  Chiyoko turned to me and put a hand on my forearm. She held my gaze. "Don't get involved," she warned.

  My heart melted at the sincerity for my well-being in her eyes. "Don't worry, Chiyoko. That won't happen."

  "And, don't forget. They made you sign a non-disclosure agreement for a reason. When you leave this place, you don't talk about anything you saw or heard."

  "Of course," I said. They had these girls sign NDAs? A thousand imaginary spiders walked across my skin. What went on in this place?

  Chiyoko squeezed my arm and nodded. She looked in the mirror to examine her makeup. She turned her face this way and that. She pulled out a small hand-mirror and used it to look at the back of her neck in the big mirror. "Good job," she said. "At least your sisters are teaching you to apply makeup correctly."

  I almost laughed. Makeup had never been my strong suit. My collection was limited to an old dried-out tube of mascara, clear lip gloss, and three pots of colored glitter that Saxony had given me as a gift for a birthday a few years ago. I had been turning 'fifteen' and Saxony hadn't known me well enough to realize that I wouldn't use glitter unless at gunpoint. With Saxony, it really was the thought that counted.

  Chiyoko applied my brow and eye makeup, painting the outer corners of my eyes with bright pink. She chattered quietly about the sisters back at her house, how she had an allergic reaction to the first white makeup she tried, and how in the old days, there was lead in the makeup which made the geisha sick.