Brave Story (45 page)

“I told you I was innocent. You should’ve listened to me.”

Kutz glared violently at Wataru, and took him back to the office where he had first been brought the day before. Now that he was a little more relaxed, he looked around to see that it was exactly like a sheriff’s office in a Western.

“Go back to the lodge where you were staying,” Kutz ordered him. “The innkeeper says he’s got all your stuff. And he says he’ll treat you to dinner as an apology. If that doesn’t do it for you, you can hit him a few times if you want. But don’t go overboard, or we’ll bring you in again on new charges. That’s all.”

Wataru was walking out the door when Kutz called after him. “You really are a Traveler, aren’t you?”

Wataru turned around.

“That pig-sticker of yours,” said Kutz, referring to Wataru’s Brave’s Sword. “The innkeeper told me he tried to pick it up, but it was too hot to handle. That one’s straight from the Goddess, it is. He was a bit taken aback.”

So the sword is safe.

“He was a little worried, seeing as how Travelers are sent here by the Goddess. He hoped he hadn’t got in your way.”

Kutz walked over to the desk and played with her whip that hung over the back of her chair. “So if you meet the Goddess, tell her I’m sorry, would you? And for the innkeeper, as well.”

“Fine.”

“Still, you’d be well advised to eat quickly and get out of Gasara right away. You’re free of suspicion, but we haven’t caught the killers. Things could get ugly here if you hang around too long.”

Wataru went out without saying anything. The sun was bright in his eyes, and the sky was perfectly clear. He made his way to the lodge, and the innkeeper came running out, apologizing profusely. The little woman herded Wataru into the back kitchen where he saw so much food he couldn’t imagine eating even half of it. As he sat down to gorge himself, the innkeeper brought him his sword, wrapped in a thick cloth.

“We’re sorry, boy,” he said, his shoulders hunched. “Here’s your sword.

Take a look at her. Nary a scratch, I guarantee it. I thought I could slice some of our meat with it, but I gave up that notion right quick.”

Wataru hung the sword at his waist. The innkeeper sat across from Wataru and went to grab a T-bone from the table. The little woman slapped his hand away.

“Still, I have to say I’m impressed,” the man said, rubbing his stinging hand. “Such a small kid like you, coming on over to our world. I guess there’s no age limit on the Porta Nectere, eh?”

“Have you never been to the other world?” Wataru asked.

The man shuddered. “Madness! Never!”

“Do you know anybody who has?”

“No, no. The other world is no place for we who live in Vision to tread lightly. The Goddess would never allow it, and even if we made it over, we’d be as good as the dead.”

The dead. Ghosts?

“It is a scary place, I’ll agree to that,” Wataru admitted.

“I knew it, I knew it!”

“We have burglaries and murders, and worse.”

“Do you now? That is scary. Then again, we’ve got our own bit of worrisome trouble here in Gasara, don’t we? If we don’t catch the criminals soon, I fear for business.”

“But last night—they didn’t actually kill anyone, did they?”

“No, but that poor kitkin’s back was ripped up something fierce.” The innkeeper said with a shudder. “Never should’ve let a girl stay alone in a cheap place like that.”

“A kitkin girl? The cat-girl!”

“Aye. Pretty thing too, with white fur. Poor girl.”

Something clicked inside Wataru. He put down his fork and stood. “Thank you for breakfast. I don’t think I can eat any more.”

“You sure? We really are sorry. If you’re heading out, I’ll make a lunch for you to take.”

“No, I’ll be staying here longer.”

The innkeeper looked flustered. “Eh? But didn’t Kutz tell you to leave?”

“She told me to leave, yes, but I’m waiting for someone. And, I want to know where the girl is, the one who was hurt last night.”

“At the hospital, I should think.”

Wataru thanked the innkeeper for the meal, and immediately took off toward the hospital.

The “hospital,” overflowing with patients, was little more than a shack. A husky doctor with the face of a St. Bernard and a nurse with floppy ears who looked like a terrier were bustling around in white smocks. Wataru spoke to them briefly, and the nurse pointed toward a small ward in the back. “She’s just eaten. I should think she’s still up.”

Wataru thanked her and headed back to the door. He knocked, but there was no answer. Opening it quietly, he found the cat-girl lying bandaged on a simple wooden bed, facing away from the door. Her long tail hung listlessly over the side of the bed.

Even without seeing her face Wataru knew. She was the girl who tried to help him the day before.

“Hello,” Wataru said, and the girl turned, her eyes opened wide. She winced at the pain of moving.

“No, don’t move.” Wataru walked over and squatted by the bed. The kitkin looked at Wataru with trembling gray eyes.

“Why?” he heard her ask in a whisper.

“I came to see you. I heard you were hurt,” Wataru said. Then he added quietly, “You helped me up the other day, on the road. Thank you.”

The girl looked away.

“You said something then. You said ‘sorry.’”

The girl trembled, and her eyes looked frightened. Her tail twitched.
But there’s no one else in the room.

Wataru had another realization. “I’m sorry for intruding. I hope you feel better.” And with that, he left.

Wataru went straight to Kutz’s office. She was sitting at her desk, the whip thrown over her back, writing something in a notepad. “What?” she scowled. “You got your sword back, didn’t you?”

“I did. I want to help you look for the criminals.”

Kutz’s eyes opened wide. “What’s that?”

“Let me help you try to find the lodge killers. I think I can.”

“You?”

“Yes,” Wataru said, looking at Trone and the large ankha sitting at the back of the room. “You don’t mind, do you? I just want to prove my innocence beyond all doubt.”

“You did yesterday, but now there’s no…”

“Yes, but if you haven’t caught the real criminals, there’s no guarantee I won’t come under suspicion again,” Wataru said, flashing as competent a smile as he could muster. “Trone, will you take me to the lodge where the previous two killings took place?”

Trone growled. “What gives you the right?”

“I’m Wataru,” he said, smiling again. “Didn’t you want me to put in a good word with the Goddess?”

The three exchanged glances, and after a tense moment of silence, Kutz sighed. “Fine,
Wataru
. I’ll take you.”

Wataru visited the two lodges. At both places, the staff stumbled over themselves to help Kutz. But when Wataru started asking questions they merely stared at him, unsure of how to respond. They all hopped to attention the minute Kutz announced—with a bark—that he was her assistant.

Both of the rooms were like the one Wataru had stayed in, with woven rush mats for a roof. They were built that way to let in the air, he was told. He took a look above them and found a narrow crawlspace that seemed quite impossible to get through unless you were a child.

After inspecting the two lodges, they headed to the inn where Wataru was staying. When they got there, he calmly announced that he knew who the criminals were. He told Kutz to assemble the innkeepers.

Kutz went red in the face, and Wataru thought he could see steam coming out of her ears. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Before Wataru could respond, the bearded innkeeper cut in, “Now, now, Kutz. That’s no way to talk to our Traveler. He’s special, you know. Chosen by the Goddess. Children, they understand things we can’t see sometimes. I’m sure that’s what’s going on here.”

Kutz’s face grew redder. “Whatever. I saw him crying his eyes out in the cell room just the other day.”

Wataru did his best to look unruffled. “Don’t worry, sir, we’ll catch the criminals tomorrow for sure.”

“Very well,” the innkeeper replied. “I’ll let everyone know, don’t you worry about a thing.”

“Also, if it’s okay, I’d like to spend the night here again. And I need money for my trip. Do you think there’s anything I could do to help out? Also, if anyone wants to ask me anything about what’s happened, please let me know. I’d be happy to talk about it.”

The rumors spread through Gasara like wildfire. While Wataru busied himself around the inn by washing dishes, sweeping floors, and chopping firewood, person after person came by to talk to him.
Have you really found the criminal? Are you really a Traveler? Is the Porta Nectere really open?

Wataru was swamped with both work and questions. Some people even asked him to beg favors of the Goddess—if or when he met her.

Many children dropped by too. One of them Wataru recognized—the boy who taunted him on the street the other day. Wataru slowly began to realize that people respected, and even feared, Travelers. And they were especially curious about the world from which they came. Kee Keema’s warning to not reveal his identity flashed briefly through his mind, but now there didn’t seem much point in trying to hide it. He even enjoyed feeling a bit like a celebrity.

As he sat around talking to a crowd of children, he noticed a pair of young ankha boys standing a short distance away. They stared at him shyly. Their cheeks were sunken, their clothes were covered in dirt, and they slouched. When their eyes met, they either glared at him or looked away.

Wataru made sure to memorize their faces. One of them walked like he was carrying something under his vest.
A knife, I’ll bet.

Wataru waited for night to come.

On his second night in the lodge, Wataru came to realize that the concept of time was similar in Vision as it was in his own world. But it seemed to him that an hour here was slightly longer than an hour in his world. With some guidance from the little woman of the inn, he was able to easily read wall clocks. That night he waited until midnight before heading to the hospital again.

He had been careful to pay attention to the building’s layout during his first visit, so he knew which window led into the room where the kitkin slept. There was a tavern across the street from the hospital, and Wataru spied several large empty casks out front. These, he figured, would make a convenient place for him to hide.

He lurked behind the liquor casks for a while because the lights were still on at the hospital. When they eventually went out, he heard a sound like the hooting of an owl, and darkness descended upon the street. The only source of light now came from the starry sky above.

A whiskey-like smell drifted from the empty casks in front of the tavern. Wataru was afraid that if he stayed there too long, he might get drunk.

Just then, something moved in the shadows outside the hospital. Wataru held his breath.

It was a small, dark shape—two of them. They cut through the darkness, moving nimbly like monkeys, deftly opening the window to the kitkin girl’s room. They darted inside without hesitation.

Wataru quickly counted to ten. Then, walking as quietly as he could, he ran up to the window.

“—didn’t, did you?” he heard a young man’s voice say.

“You’re in trouble too. And you know what will happen if you rat on us, eh?”

“What did you tell that boy? We know he came here today.”

He heard the kitkin respond in a voice choked with tears. She was swearing she hadn’t said anything.

“Liar!”

“Your tail says you’re a liar. Maybe I should cut it off?”

Wataru took a breath, then, drawing his Brave’s Sword, he yanked the window open and jumped inside.

“Stop, y-you…huh?!”

Wataru had intended to land on his feet, but his shoe caught on the window frame, and he tumbled into the room. Landing with a thud on the floor next to the bed, he looked up to see one of the boys holding the girl down, and the other holding a knife to the middle of her tail. The white blade glimmered dangerously in the dim light.

“I kn-know you did it!” Wataru said, lifting his sword and struggling to his feet. His jaw throbbed from where it had hit the floor, and it took some effort to speak clearly.

“Who’re y—hey! It’s that kid!” one of the boys said, pointing at Wataru and holding out his knife. “Let’s get ’im!”

The boy howled and leapt for him, but Wataru managed to move aside in the nick of time. The boy made a wild grab and was able to latch onto the sleeve of his shirt. He swung his knife again.

Uh-oh!

“Huh?”

The Brave’s Sword had deftly blocked the boy’s knife. It was as though his arm—no, the sword itself—had moved of its own accord. Wataru took advantage of the boy’s forward thrust and leapt up on his back.

“Put the sword down, or she gets it!” Wataru heard the other boy shout. He saw him standing with a knife pressed close to the kitkin. “Move a muscle, and I cut her throat!”