by Peter David
As he described it, memories flooded back to me. “I… I remember that night,” I said slowly. “That day and that night. It seemed endless. Are you… are you saying that you were somehow responsible for that…?”
“Responsible for the storms themselves? No. Responsible for stopping them, though. You see, a dark magic user employed ancient tomes to—” He stopped and smirked once more. “I forgot. You don’t care about such things.”
“Not when there are other things to care about. You said you didn’t all make it.” I could barely form the words. “Does… does that mean… Sharee…?”
He clearly didn’t realize what I was asking at first, but then realization dawned. “Oh! Sharee, dead? No, no. More lives than a cat, that one. No, she and Rex made it through, as did I. Not that I bonded in the same way with Rex as Sharee did, I’m rather relieved to say. He would probably be relieved as well…”
“What are you going on about now?” I demanded. “What ‘bonded’? What are—”
“Well… Apropos…” He stopped and clung to a tree trunk, wrapping himself around it and actually looking slightly chagrined.
“Ohhhh. Do you not comprehend, then? About Rex and Sharee..?”
“I have no idea what you’re…” Then my voice trailed off, and it registered upon me at last. “They’re… together. Is what you’re saying.”
His triangular faced bobbed. “That is what I’m saying, yes.”
“How together?”
For a moment, Mordant obviously was seeking a way to inform me gently, but ultimately discarded it for the straightforward approach. “They are wedded, Apropos. I was there for the ceremony.”
I felt a slow numbness spreading through me, but fortunately I was on horseback and so it was less apparent. Outwardly my demeanor did not change at all, or at least I was trying to make sure it stayed that way. “I see. Wedded. Well…” I paused, taking it in, making sure my pose upon the horse was firm and steady, and then continued, “…that is… probably for the best.”
“Apropos… are you quite all right?” inquired Mordant. He was being far more solicitous than usual. I found it off-putting.
“Yes, I’m fine. This is not unexpected, Mordant,” I assured him, even as I felt my heart crumbling. Foolish, foolish heart. As if I’d ever had a chance with her. As if I’d ever let her know I had the slightest interest in her. “It is most usual for people who share remarkably dangerous adventures to form strong, even unassailable bonds. Their marriage is simply a natural outgrowth of that bonding.”
“You and Sharee shared remarkably dangerous adventures,” Mordant pointed out. “Are you saying that you two—?”
“Obviously not,” I said. “Let us keep in mind, the adventures we shared, neither of us entered willingly. I was dragooned into them, and she wanted to kill me much of the time. Hardly any sort of foundation upon which to build a long-term relationship. Besides, you should know by now that I am not exactly like other men. What serves the purposes of other, lesser mortals cannot hope to stand up to my requirements.”
He didn’t appear to have the faintest idea what I was talking about. That was quite all right. I shared the same sense of quandary. Shaking it off, I immediately said, “But how did you happen to come here? And wind up in a cage in that… that traveling circus?”
“The circumstances were… curious,” said Mordant, and he glanced at Mitsu. Perhaps he thought I didn’t notice the look, but it’s difficult to hide body language when one’s head is designed to unconsciously have one’s tongue flick in the direction one is contemplating. Then, in a slightly posturing tone, he added, “And none of your business, really. Frankly, given your repeated disdain for hearing other people’s tales, I’m almost surprised you’d even ask.”
“I’m a surprising individual,” I said archly. Then I gestured toward Mitsu. “What about him? Can he be trusted?”
“Him? Oh…” and Mordant seemed to smile, as much as he was able given the construction of his face. “Yes. He can be annoying at times, but he is on the whole trustworthy.”
“Is that the case?” I reined up and turned to look at Mitsu, who had been following us in that sullen manner that only young boys can possess.
“Do you not trust Mordant?” asked Mitsu icily.
“When you get to know me better, you will come to understand that I don’t trust anyone,” I said.
“I have no interest in getting to know you better.”
“Really.” I smirked at him. “Perhaps you haven’t been paying attention, but if it weren’t for me, those circus folk would have torn you apart. I’m the one who released the animals to distract them. I’m the one who got Mordant out of his cell. Considering all of that, I’d show a bit more gratitude if I were you.”
He looked about to reply, but then exchanged a silent look with Mordant. Then he drew himself up stiffly, slapped his hands to either side of his legs, and bowed deeply at the waist. “I am in your debt. You shall not find me stinting in my endeavors to acknowledge and honor that debt.”
I inclined my head slightly in acknowledgment. “Thank you. That means a great deal.”
“Does it?” asked Mordant.
“Of course not.” I snapped the reins and brought the horse back around. “Now then… let’s be on our way.”
There were many more things I could have asked Mordant. Press him on the question of how he’d wound up in Chinpan, or attracted the attention of this Mitsu person. But asking about Sharee and discovering the direction her life had gone somehow left me with little interest, or even less interest than I would usually have in such matters.
I realized I just hadn’t been prepared for that aspect of my life to be ended so completely. Sharee had come into my life when I was quite young, when my childhood friend Tacit and I had rescued her from some angry villagers intent on burning her to cinders. Since then, even when she had not been with me physically, she had been in my dreams, in the periphery of my existence in some way, shape, or form.
But she hadn’t been in my dreams lately. Indeed, not for quite some time. And now I was understanding why. It was because she was, for good and all, a thing of my past. And I apparently wasn’t quite ready for that. Nevertheless, it had happened whether I was ready or not.
“Why are you going to Taikyo?” asked Mordant abruptly, flapping along next to me. “You never said.”
“There was a man I knew. A good man. He was killed. I go to seek justice for him,” I said.
“Really. Have you ever sought justice for someone before?”
“Once,” I said. “For my mother. It didn’t work out particularly well, and underscored for me the futility of such endeavors.”
“And yet you do it anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because,” I said, “there is no idea that exists that is so foolish that it can’t be embarked upon twice. Sharee…”
“What?” His head snapped around and he looked at me curiously. “Did you just say…?”
“I was just wondering if she is… happy. In your opinion.”
“Yes,” said Mordant. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an individual quite as happy as she was.”
“Ah. Happy then.”
“Very much so.”
I considered that and then said, “I wonder what that’s like. Being happy.”
Mordant become silent once more.
BOOK TWO
Caveat Imperior
Chapter 1
Bright Lies, Big City
I‘ll say this for Taikyo: It wasn’t made of bamboo.
It was easily the largest city I had ever been in, bigger than anything I might have imagined. Here I had thought that I had encountered some sort of primitive culture, and instead the construction of the city indicated a civilization far older than any I had known.
For starters, all the roads were paved. All of them. Every city I’d ever been to had some, if not most or even all, of the roads made from nothing more than di
rt and—more frequently—mud. Such was not the case here. The roads through Taikyo were hardened, made from some sort of… of black tarred substance or pitch, near as I could tell, rather than the cobblestone with which I was familiar. I was accustomed to seeing such things used for bathing some miscreant in and attaching feathers, or perhaps dumping in large flaming quantities upon attacking enemies. But walking upon it? It was a bizarre sensation.
Many of the buildings, however, were raised above the ground on platforms of rammed earth, brick, or dirt. According to Mitsu—who was obviously familiar with the city, but reluctant to discuss it in detail—it was from a time before the roads were paved, in order to keep the buildings above the mud and dirt.
I marveled at the architecture, with many ornately curved roofs on the larger buildings, supported by structures of wooden beams… to provide bracing in the event of an earthquake, I was told. That was a bit of news I could have done without.
Taikyo was also divided in terms of economic strata. The domiciles of the richer, more elite citizens were all clustered in one section, and had the aforementioned remarkably lavish style of design. But as we moved through the city, we found other sections that were far less so. The fish market, for example. It was easily the busiest and most thriving area of the city, understandably since the majority of the populace reputedly subsisted almost entirely on a diet of fish.
The fish market was situated on either side of a massive river that carved straight through the middle of the city. Large curved bridges traversed the river, and they were quite crowded with people coming and going from the market. This made the bridges no different from the rest of the city, which seemed to be packed from one end to the other with humanity. There were more people there than I’d ever seen in one place in my life, and that included the royal jousts back in Isteria.
Fortunately enough, everyone seemed far too caught up in their own interests to pay much attention to us. That was something of a feat, considering the odd little group we were. Drabits were still not exactly commonplace creatures to see, and certainly my features marked me as something completely out of the ordinary. I still had my cloak, though, and I had pulled it out of my bundle before we’d entered the city. I draped it around my shoulders and brought my hood up, deftly serving to obscure my face. Mordant then took up position beneath the cloak, clinging onto my bag and flattening himself so that, at the most, I looked as if I had a small humpback. Humpbacks were also not common, but I suspected one saw them more frequently than tiny dragons or men with round eyes in these parts.
By this point I had dismounted and was simply walking through the streets, holding the horse firmly by the reins and guiding it through the crowds. At least people got out of our way, which was a plus, although many of them gave us slightly annoyed looks at having to step aside. I wasn’t certain what alternative I could present. It wasn’t as if I could fold the horse up lengthwise and slip it into my pack.
In the marketplace, I found a fellow who was selling sword belts, the kind that had the latches that would support the sword that Ali had wielded. I was getting uncomfortable with the notion of keeping it attached to the horse. So I purchased a belt, lashed it around me, pulled the sword out of its place on the horse, and attached it.
It was the first time that Mitsu had seen the weapon, and his eyes widened upon spying it. “That is… an impressive-looking weapon,” he said. It was the closest thing to a compliment he’d ever tossed in my direction.
“Thank you,” I replied. “It’s an heirloom.” I pulled my walking staff from its place on the other side of the horse. Despite the fact that it was a necessary device to compensate for my lameness, by that point in my life I actually found that I derived a measure of comfort, even security from it. Thus outfitted, we continued on our way.
The domiciles in the fishing district, as opposed to the richer sections of town, were packed in almost one atop the other. Mitsu informed me that conditions were so crowded that Taikyo families lived as many as seven or eight in a single room. I found this appalling, and couldn’t help but wonder at the conditions of the city which required so many people to live so close together.
But then I began to understand. For as we glided through the fish market, I saw in the distance the single largest structure in the entirety of Taikyo. Hell, for all I knew, it was the single largest structure in the entirety of the world.
It was a sprawling castle sitting atop what I could only describe as a small mountain. Great stone pillars rose up, supporting the sprawling curved roof composed of overlapping tiles and, ironically, a series of twisting, sinewy statues of dragons that bore a passing resemblance to the creature hitching a ride on my back. The palace was separated from the rest of the city by a series of moats. It loomed there, sending out a sense of majesty and superiority.
“That,” I said, “I take to be the residence of the Imperior?”
No answer. I turned to discover that Mitsu was gone.
“Now what the hell…?”
“Problem?” came Mordant’s muffled voice from beneath my cloak.
“Your fool friend is gone. Mitsu!” I called, cupping my hands to my mouth.
“Odd. That’s not like… him, to wander off.”
“Well, he did it anyway. Mitsu!”
“Yes,” came Mitsu’s voice, practically at my elbow. I turned to find him standing there, looking quite calm.
“Where did you get off to?”
“Nowhere. You’re the one who wandered away from me.”
I started to protest that I had wandered nowhere, but quickly decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “That castle,” I said, pointing in the direction of the looming fortress. “That is where the Imperior resides?”
Mitsu nodded, not appearing too forthcoming with details.
We had come to a halt in the midst of the fish market and no doubt looked like a couple of tourists as we stared at the palace in the distance. Anxious to get off the street, I noticed what appeared to be a small eatery. We headed over and within minutes were seated at a small table near the ground. To be specific, there were no chairs. We simply knelt on either side of the table with small pillows under our rumps to provide minimal support. There were not many other people around at that moment, which was something of a blessing. I had no idea how much the tea that was served to us was, but I dropped one of the coins I’d taken off the dead men into the hand of the serving wench, and she seemed perfectly satisfied with the amount.
We sipped tea from simple cups and did not speak for some moments.
“All right, then,” I said finally. “I’ll just have to present myself to the Imperior and we’ll see what I can learn from…”
“Wait,” Mitsu said, looking at me in amused contempt. “Do you seriously think you’re going to be able to just walk up to the Imperior? It’s impossible.”
“Why impossible?”
Mitsu placed his cup down. “To begin with,” he said, keeping his voice low as if concerned we might be overheard, “the Imperior only sees the public two days a year.”
“Two days?” And here I had thought that King Runcible was out of touch owing to lack of frequent interaction with the residents of Isteria. Compared to this Imperior fellow, Runcible was virtually a man of the people. “And what two days would those be?”
“The New Year, and his birthday. Neither of which is anytime soon,” he added, obviously anticipating my next question.
“All right,” I said thoughtfully. “That may well be how he treats his citizens. But I’m not a citizen. I will be presenting myself as a representative of a far-off, unknown land.”
“Are you?” He looked amused.
“Prove that I am not.”
He shrugged his slim shoulders. “It does not matter. All that your ‘status’ would guarantee you is a quick death.”
I felt the blood draining from my face. “A quick death? Why?”
“You don’t understand,” he told me. “The Imperior is not simply a mortal ma
n.”
“He’s not?”
“Well, he thinks he’s not. The Imperior is designated by the gods. He is divine. He is holy. He is all-knowing. And I am quite, quite sure that your race and the land from which you come is completely unknown to him.”
“So?” I still wasn’t following.
“So?” It was Mordant’s voice, speaking softly from beneath my cloak. Anyone nearby would have thought themselves mad with voices apparently wafting out of thin air. “Are you not paying attention? One cannot be all-knowing and be faced with the unknown both at the same time.”
“Ah,” I said slowly.
“Now you understand?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “If there is physical proof of someone or something that the Imperior doesn’t know about, then his divine, all-knowing status is challenged. He cannot tolerate any such challenge. So what he would be obliged to do is eliminate that which is challenging him. But,” and I shook my head, “wouldn’t he be interested in finding out about that which is new to him?”
“Of course not. Because, by definition—”
“He already knows about it,” I sighed. “And if he doesn’t know about it, then it must not exist. So if it does exist, it behooves him to make certain it stops existing.”
“Precisely,” said Mitsu. He looked at me with curiosity. “Why was it so necessary for you to speak directly with the Imperior, anyway?”
“Because I want to help find a way to destroy the Forked Tong.”
“Ahhh. The Forked Tong,” Mitsu said, nodding. “You are familiar with them, are you?”
“Not really,” I admitted. I could feel Mordant on my back, settling himself back down to rest. “But I know enough.”
“And what do you know?”
“That they are some sort of criminal organization. And they work in tandem with a group calling itself the Anaïs Ninjas. The group that was responsible for killing my teacher.”
