Beneath an Opal Moon (25 page)

He smiled his peculiar smile, a devastating gesture, and she realized abruptly how she cherished his friendship and his love. He stood up, towering over her. He took her hand in his, her skin feeling the harsh abrasive hide of the gauntlet.

“Shall we go outside.” The construction was of a question but the inflection was not.

It was just past midday. The heat of the lemon-colored sun struck them, enveloping them in its warmth. Cicadas shrilled and gray plovers shot up from their hiding places in the tall grass.

The horizon was laced with the domed configurations of the cryptomeria and the high sword-edged pines. Far in the distance loomed the purple slopes of Fujiwara, wreathed now in a gentle haze. And before it, she knew, was the newly completed shrine at the site of Haneda Castle, birthplace of the Dai-San, destroyed in the titanic death struggle between dor-Sefrith and The Dolman during the time of his birth.

“Are you happy here?” Though the Dai-San spoke perfect Bujun, the ancient of languages, which only a few Bujun still learned, the configurations of his mouth lent his speech peculiar inflections which took some time to decipher.

Chiisai wondered at his using the old tongue. She, of course, being the Kunshin's daughter, was also fluent. She longed to know what he wanted or, at the very least, what it was she was expected to say.

As if divining her thought, he said, “Tell me the truth, little one. Nothing else is important.”

“All right,” she said, gratefully, feeling as if a great weight had been taken off her. Under his intense gaze, she felt a melting within herself and, with it, a subtle tension which had been holding her ebbing. “No, I'm not.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“You do?” She had not believed that anyone would, which was why she had, until this moment, held this knowledge secret even, in some ways, from herself.

“Oh, yes,” he said, his voice like the rolling of thunder over a vast plain. “I, too, have known the restlessness which now haunts you. There was no reason to hide it, little one.”

“But my father—”

“My darling, your father understands these things. He asked me to speak to you because he knows well the power of Bujun tradition.”

“I could not tell him these things directly.”

“He surmised this.”

“I want to go away,” she said, for the first time truly realizing it herself. “But I don't want him to think that I am abandoning him.”

“I am quite certain that whatever sadness he feels will be dispelled by his thoughts of your happiness.” He looked away from her. “Now that that's settled, where would you like to go?”

“I—why, I don't really know.”

“Would you care to sail to Sha'angh'sei?”

Even recalling it now, hearing his echoey voice again in her mind, she knew he had said it with complete innocence, totally devoid of overtones or hidden meanings.

She had been delighted and had accepted immediately.

He said, “When you arrive, I want you to see a friend of mine, little one. You have heard me speak his name often. My bond-brother.”

“Moichi—”

“Yes. Moichi Annai-Nin. This is very important, little one. I want you to see Moichi Annai-Nin. I want you to give him the gifts I have for him.”

“How long shall I stay in Sha'angh'sei?” she asked.

He turned to her, the sunlight striking the odd planes of his face. Never had he looked more startling nor more beautiful to her. “That is entirely up to you, but I imagine that you may wish to stay there quite some time.”

Now, as she flitted like some human bat across the sloping rooftops of Corruña, Chiisai wondered at that long-ago meeting. She thought that, for once, the Dai-San had been proven wrong for she had surely not stayed in Sha'angh'sei for any length of time. Yet though she might well have felt alone and afraid in this strange city, she felt only a kind of excited warmth stealing over her. Was this truly why she had come to the continent of man? And was it merely a coincidence that she had arrived at Sha'angh'sei? It was, after all, the continent of man's largest port and, not so coincidentally, the closest one to Ama-no-mori.

Still, she could not put out of her mind the fact that the Dai-San had suggested it as her destination. She had never questioned that nor second-guessed herself. Surely it had been she and she alone who had been master of her fate. She had always been free to choose whatever destination she had desired. She had chosen Sha'angh'sei.

Or had she?

Echoes of the Dai-San's last words to her rebounded in her mind now.
I imagine that you may wish to stay there quite some time
. Did he know something that she did not?

She shrugged mentally, putting the puzzle aside for the moment. She had more pressing matters to occupy her attention.

They were now in the far western quarter of Corruña and the Tudescan, despite his twists and turns, was still heading almost due west. At this rate, they would soon leave the city far behind them.

She glanced upward for a moment, checking the position of the moon to gauge the time. It was but a diffuse glow now, sifting through the scudding clouds which had begun to move in more strongly from the northwest. Perhaps a storm, she thought, and fervently hoped that it would hold off until the Tudescan reached his destination.

He was still moving west and she knew that unless she broke off she would never make the rendezvous with Moichi. Sweat broke out along the line of her forehead and on her upper lip but, wiping it away, she remembered Martyne and silently prayed to her gods that the woman had been victorious and would make the rendezvous in her stead. For the moment, she ignored the other problem.

For now the Tudescan was at last slowing, carefully making a final check in all directions. This was it and, waiting until he had completed his survey of the surrounding area, she swung down from the rooftop into the street behind him, grateful, because the diminished light was making long-range surveillance hazardous.

They were in a section of the city densely packed with two-story buildings—only Corruña's iglesias seemed to be taller—windowless, with flat undecorated roofs. Warehouses, she surmised, for it was here that the major overland trade routes to other Daluzan cities, and to the lands beyond Dalucia's borders, converged at Corruña's western outskirts.

Here, for the first time, she saw families of people asleep in the streets, against building walls, in darkened doorways. These were workers who awakened each day just as dawn was about to break in the eastern sky to meet the vast silent caravans arriving from far-off lands and were paid a few coppers to off-load the myriad dry goods, ferrying them on their backs to the nearby warehouses of the merchants.

She went carefully between them as the wounded Tudescan had not wanted to wake them and, at length, in a huge courtyard, she spied a small caravan of perhaps six camels waiting to depart. They were within the shadows of the high western gate of the city.

It was to this group of men, squatting around a small fire, that the Tudescan went. Chiisai dared not get close enough, in the quiet, desolate night, to hear what they were saying but she crept up until she had a decent view. One put a blanket onto the ground for the wounded man, working on him, while another, squatting near the prone man's head, questioned him about what had transpired. There came a quick movement from the squatting man. He shouted something that was quite incoherent to her and hauled the wounded man up onto his feet. He seemed enormously powerful. There came more shouting and, abruptly, she felt movement behind her and whirled, saw two huge eyes staring past her out of a small face. It was a young cambujo girl, one of the many children of the workers' families who lived here without proper housing. She had been awakened by the noise and now craned her neck to see what all the commotion was about.

Chiisai returned her attention to the scene of the argument just in time to see the brief flash of metal as the angered man thrust a knife into the stomach of the wounded man. He threw the corpse from him with the tip of his boot as if it was just so much fetid garbage. Could this be Hellsturm? If so, he had not taken kindly to his henchman's failure.

Now Chiisai could feel the presence of the young girl closer behind her, so near, in fact, that she could discern the other's shivers. She turned her body slightly and opened out her right arm. The girl crawled into the warm space and Chiisai wrapped her in her cloak.

Then, as she watched the caravan camp, she knew that she had run out of time. All the men were standing. One of them kicked desultorily at the fire. Another swung a canvas saddlebag onto the neck of one of the camels. She saw now that the animals had been feeding. They were nearly finished. When that happened, she knew, the caravan would be off.

She looked at the shivering girl crouched beside her, head on her shoulder, then back to the readying caravan. From her sash, she drew out three copper coins, held them out so that the girl could see what they were. Then she pressed them into the small hand, closing the fingers around them.

The girl lifted her head, staring at her wonderingly, and Chiisai put her lips to the girl's ear for long moments. The girl's eyes were wide, black as obsidian.

“Do you know where to go?” Chiisai whispered in Daluzan.

The girl nodded emphatically.

“You must start now,” Chiisai said. “What is my name?”

“Chiisai,” the girl said. She smiled up at the strange face. “Chiisai goes northwest.”

Water's Edge

Calle Córdel was deserted when he arrived.

It was just before midnight, he judged, squinting up at the smudge of moonlight. This, too, was fast disappearing as the cloud cover thickened. He sniffed, could smell it now.

The storm.

He pulled his Daluzan cloak tight about him but the rising wind plucked at its edges, exposing the silken lining.

Had this been one of Milhos Seguillas'? If so, he knew it was a singular honor that the Senhora had given it to him. She was so much a lady—

He looked around him. Shuttered doorways and darkened windows. Only a few flickering night lanterns for company.

Where was Chiisai?

He glanced upward reflexively again but now all traces of moonlight had left the sky. In the distance, he thought he could hear a rolling boom of thunder.

A thin gray dog with a matted coat padded down a side street, stopped, regarded him for a moment, then lifted its leg and urinated against the side of a building. The dog turned and sniffed it before mooching slowly onward, nose to the ground for any trace of something to eat.

The trees whispered their enigmatic sighing song; they bowed slightly.

Past midnight now.

Where was she?

He turned abruptly at a sharp sound. Boots against cobbles. For a moment, they stopped and he turned away. Then they resumed. He turned back.

A woman came into view, tall and long-necked. Her face was in shadow. She stopped when she saw his bulk, tentative now but unafraid.

He saw that she carried a weapon in her left hand, at the ready.

“Who are you?” he said.

She said nothing but continued to stand in the center of the street. There was no one else around. He moved a step closer. The shadows made it impossible for him to tell anything about her. This he did not like.

The knife with the triangular blade was lifted so that he could see its explicit threat.

“Come no closer,” she warned. Her voice floated to him eerily on the night.

He felt the change in atmospheric pressure and the rolling crack of thunder was unmistakable. He stared from the black pool of her face to the knife-blade. With a start, he saw that it was dark and shiny. Blood. This woman had but recently been in some kind of fight.

“Are you in need of help?” he asked.

She stood as immobile and silent as a statue.

“Are you hurt?”

“I am unharmed,” she said after a time. “Will you leave willingly or—” The blade moved a fraction higher.

“I am here to meet someone,” he said. “A friend. I will not move.”

Now she took a step forward, partially into the aureole of light from a nearby lantern, swinging in its cage as the rising wind tossed it. “You are not Daluzan.”

“No.” He saw her face for the first time. Long and narrow and attractive. A strong face, full of character. He wondered who she was. Then it occurred to him that she would be asking herself the same questions. “I am Moichi Annai-Nin of Iskael.”

This statement seemed to quell some of her suspicion and he saw her relax somewhat. He saw her peering at him closely.

“You are not Tudescan.”

He stiffened. “What know you of Tudescans here?”

“Too much,” she said. “My friend and I were attacked by five Tudescans some little time ago. They followed her from the mercado and—”

“Chiisai!”

She stepped up to him, placed the knife-point just under his breastbone.

He made no move, merely stared into her eyes. They were large and glossy and intelligent.

“Quickly now. Tell me,” she snapped. “Are you friend or foe?”

“Chiisai is my friend,” he said evenly, taking no offense at her brusque manner. “She is the only daughter of the Kunshin of the Bujun.”

“She is royalty?” said the other. “She did not tell me.”

“She would hardly wish it known,” he said. He noticed that the knife-point still touched his shirt front. “I set a rendezvous with her earlier to meet me here just before midnight.”

Now the knife disappeared inside the other's cloak. “I am Martyne,” she said. “Chiisai told me to meet her here at midnight if we were separated in the melee. We were.”

“What has happened to her?”

“She is all right. She killed three of the Tudescan warriors and wounded a fourth. Perhaps she did this deliberately, for she allowed him to escape and then went after him.”