Gloria Oliver (8 page)

A slight chill coursed through him. He heard Miko move as she stood up, but didn’t look after her. She set out the food he had missed seeing her bring in earlier to the small table. She then poured him a cup of hot tea.

“I’ll come wake you when the time is near,” she said.

He barely nodded; still too embarrassed to say much of anything. He was almost afraid to wonder what kind of idiot she must think him to be.

“Toshi-san, I’m grateful for the honor you’ve shown me by your actions today,” she said softly. “I’m not worthy of them.”

He yearned to look at her, but forced himself not to. He wasn’t sure the sincerity he thought he heard in her voice wouldn’t be dispelled if he looked at her and found her hand lightly covering her mouth. He’d rather not do more injury to his already ruined pride.

He almost jumped as a soft, warm hand caressed his cheek. He looked up, but Miko’s back was to him as she started back to the door.

“Might I take the copy of the map you made?” she asked. “I’d like to attempt to finish mine while you sleep. I thought I would also show Asaka-sama the excellent job you’d done.”

He stared at Miko’s back when she didn’t turn around for his answer. “Yes, if you like. I’ll get it for you.” He scrambled to his feet, trying not to trip over his blankets.

Gathering his new copy of the map and her unfinished one, he clumsily handed them to her with a bow.

He felt her staring at him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“Toshiro, please try not to misunderstand what I am about to say.” She hesitated for a moment. “I realize being here isn’t what you want, and that it’s been quite difficult for you to accept. But, I am still very glad it was you our Lord chose to come with us on this journey.”

Leaving his startled countenance behind, Miko left the room.

Toshi shook his head as he turned away from the door. Not sure what to make of all that had been said, he carefully rolled up the main map and placed it in the basket with his other tools.

Pondering her words, he drank the tea Miko had poured for him and ate.

Toshi-kun! You must wake up. You’re going to be late.”

“Huh?” The word had barely left his mouth before his eyes were closing again. He hardly felt his body shift as Miko grabbed him on the side and shook him hard. Her urgent words meant nothing to him as his mind lay enshrouded in a deep, cold fog.

“Toshi!”

The sound of bells filled the room as Miko leaned down to look into his face and found it wrapped in sleep. Roughly, she pulled away his covers, exposing him to the eerily cold air. Pulling up one of the sleeves of her green-and-gold kimono, she slapped him on the shoulder. His eyes never opened, he just pulled up his legs and made himself into a ball.

“All right, Chizuson Toshiro, you asked for this!”

Kneeling close, Miko undid his sash and opened his shirt. Sneaking her hands over his bare skin, she began to lightly roam the area around his sides.

An odd sensation coursed through him and it poked small holes in the fog about his mind. As the sensation persisted, he became more and more aware of it. The closer he came to awakening, the more annoying the sensation became. He moaned, trying to get away from the bothersome feeling, but couldn’t get rid of it.

“Go away,” he mumbled.

When it didn’t, he curled up tighter. His discomfort grew as the sensation didn’t cease, and he also started to feel the cold seeping into his exposed skin. The fog around his mind dissipated. He opened his eyes in surprise, as unwanted laughter bubbled from his lips.

“Stop it!”

Miko didn’t stop. No matter what direction he tried to roll to get away from her, he found Miko’s hands always following him, mercilessly tickling the sensitive flesh on his sides.

“All bad boys have to pay the price,” she chortled. “You should learn to get up sooner.”

To his chagrin, the geisha suddenly doubled her efforts. “Please stop. Miko-san. I’m awake now!”

The geisha didn’t stop. He felt he might just die. His sides ached horribly, and he could barely breathe.

Laughter continued to issue involuntarily from his mouth. “Miko-san, please!”

She stopped. He instantly quit squirming and went thankfully limp. He closed his eyes, concentrating only on taking great lungfulls of air.

“There’s no time for that,” she snapped. “You must get up, Toshi-kun, and you must hurry. You’ve only got a few minutes before we surface. Lord Asaka will be waiting for you.”

At the mention of the samurai’s name, his eyes popped open. His body tensed as he fought to sit up.

Without any more prompting, he stood and took off his clothes, rushing toward his waiting bath water.

Shivering as he tried to dry off as fast as possible, he found Miko at his side holding out his clean clothes. He forgot to be embarrassed by her closeness, having at the moment only thoughts for what might happen to him if he were late. He never noticed the garment she held open for him as he slipped into it.

When Miko pressed a cup of hot tea into his hands, he drank it down, cursing himself for having forgotten to put on his sandals before moving over the cold floor to bathe. He rushed back to his futon and the warmth he would find there.

Miko took away his emptied cup as he rubbed his cold numbed feet with one of his blankets. The geisha took over the task after handing him a fresh rice cake.

As soon as he’d gobbled the first one down, Miko gave him another with a new cup of tea. He felt his insides warming up, as well as his abused feet. As he chewed on his new rice cake, Miko uncovered his feet and put warm socks on them. It was only as he watched her that he realized Miko had not given him his normal clothes. Surprised, he stared down at the brown kimono, realizing it fit him perfectly. Miko had just finished putting on his sandals when he thought of trying to protest. He had no business wearing these fine clothes. He was a peasant.

Miko took away his cup and the rest of his rice cake as he opened up his mouth to say just that.

“Hurry, Toshi-kun, get your things. We’re out of time!” Miko reached for his arm.

All his protests disappeared as his worries returned. Moving awkwardly in his newly fitted clothes, he rose to his feet while simultaneously trying to fix his mussed hair. He grabbed his basket and rushed for the door. Miko held out a bite of fish to him as he walked past. He stumbled out into the empty hallway.

Cool night air swept over him as he stepped out on deck. The ship’s sail was raised high, catching all the wind had to give. In haste, he sent a sweeping glance over the men rowing despite the wind, and headed for the ladder that would take him to his post.

Reaching the higher deck, he bowed to Asaka, who sat regally on a folding stool, his lacquered armor glinting with the ship’s permeating glow. The frowning demon mask turned toward him, two green flames filling up its eyes. Asaka said nothing to him, but gave him a slight acknowledging nod.

Toshi set his basket down and took out the coil of measuring rope. His eyes lit guiltily on the stolen cross-staff, and again he wondered if there was any way Captain Valez might return home without it. He had learned just recently how badly someone could miss a place once he was no longer allowed to return to it. He knew exactly how the Spanish captain and his crew would feel. He hoped never to inflict that on anyone, however long he might have to live.

One by one he took his readings and had already started doing his calculations as he stepped back to the basket to retrieve the map. He stopped in mid-step as he suddenly realized it wasn’t there.

Frantically, he sifted through his memories of the past few minutes, trying to recall where the map had been the last time he’d seen it.

“Is something wrong, boy?”

His neck prickled with fear as the samurai’s deep voice rose up behind him. “I seem to have left the map back in my room, sir.” He swallowed hard, his eyes rooted to the glowing floor, dreading the possible reaction to what he had just said. “Might I be allowed to go retrieve it, sir?” He held his breath, not sure of what might come. He felt himself shiver as the samurai spoke again.

“Mitsuo-san, please go to the boy’s room and retrieve the map,” Asaka commanded.

With a touch of surprise, Toshi watched the bent skeleton as he bowed deeply and then proceeded to the ladder. Asaka remained seated, staring outwards, his demon mask impassive.

That he was being ignored gave him a measure of calm he’d not been able to achieve moments before. If something was to be done to him for so foolishly forgetting the map in his charge, it didn’t look like it would be immediate.

Hoping Mitsuo would return quickly, he folded his legs beneath him and sat down. Glancing behind him, he couldn’t help but notice the steersman’s dim yellow eyes boring into him. His never-changing, fleshless grin seemed to be trying to promise something. With a small shudder, Toshi turned away from the awful stare.

Time trickled along and Mitsuo didn’t return. He began to fidget, a feeling of doom tightening his chest.

The feeling was only made worse when Mitsuo finally did reappear, and he noticed the obvious hesitation of his pace.

Rising slowly onto the deck, Mitsuo walked to stand before Asaka and bowed almost to the floor. The voice that flowed from the bent frame was slow and soft, tinged with an almost palpable sadness.

“Asaka-sama, I searched the entire room, yet there was no map to be found there.”

It took Toshi a long stunned moment to realize what had just been said. With large eyes, he stared at the metal demon mask as it turned toward him.

“Boy, explain.”

He had no idea where the map was. He had no explanation to give. Forced to say something, he found his tongue lay like lead inside his mouth. “I can’t explain it, Lord.” He despaired and would have fallen if he weren’t already seated, knowing that by his admission he had just damned himself.

“What is there to explain, Asaka-sama? Isn’t it obvious the whelp destroyed the map to cover up his actual lack of skill?” The steersman grinned toward him.

“That’s a lie,” Toshi exclaimed with some heat. “I didn’t destroy the map. That would have been stupid!”

He closed his mouth, realizing with horror he was the one who had spoken. His heart lurched in his breast. He cursed his loose tongue for making things worse and forced himself to stay still.

“Explain,” Asaka demanded.

He didn’t realize the command had been aimed at him until he heard no one else answer. Knowing he had nothing to lose, since he was already doomed, he clenched his hands and spoke. “I would have had nothing to gain by destroying the map. I don’t want to be here, but doing as you ask is the fastest way to leave. If I had destroyed it, it would have been like committing suicide. I want to go home, not die, especially not here.” He had gone too far again. Of that he was sure. He stared at the floor, shaking with despair.

“Likely excuse, Lord Asaka.” It was the steersman again. “This boy is nothing but trouble. Now that he has done the deed and realized its foolishness, he’s trying his best to find some way to save himself.”

A curt gesture from the samurai kept the steersman from saying more.

Silence followed—a silence too deep for Toshi’s taste. In it, he could hear the ocean waves as they split whitely against the sides of the ship. He could hear the crewmen’s oars as they rose and dipped into the dark water. He waited for his doom to fall, hoping against hope Asaka wouldn’t make him into one of them.

Time stretched to agonizing minutes. He stared at the deck, his thoughts turning to the missing map. He hadn’t taken the map. Everyone else had been a part of the ship for the past eight years. None of them would do it. None of them would risk being stuck there forever. It made no sense. If only Asaka had brought more than one map. If only there were another copy…

His eyes widened as he realized his stupidity. There was a copy of the map. It hadn’t been in his room, so there might be a chance it hadn’t been taken. He bowed to the floor on his hands and knees as he tried to get the samurai’s attention.

“Asaka-sama, Miko-san has a partial copy of the map. I had about finished it when she took it with her yesterday.” Nervously, he risked a glance in Asaka’s direction. Despite his fear, he could feel hope welling in his heart.

“Mitsuo-san, would you verify this?” Asaka asked.

Toshi saw the older samurai start on his way. He prayed, hoping fate would decide to be on his side. His hands became numb as he waited, but he didn’t dare move. Instead, he tried concentrating on the warm, comfortable feel of the silk lying against his skin.

He glanced to the side as he caught the faint sound of bells. His heart beat faster, hoping for redemption.

The sound of bells, however, came no closer.

He glanced to the side again as he heard the ladder creak from someone’s weight. Sending another prayer to all the gods and spirits he could think of, he held his breath waiting to hear of his salvation or doom.

“Here’s what was found, Lord.” The confident edge to Mitsuo’s voice brought him much needed hope.

He heard paper rustling and then nothing.

For what seemed like forever, he waited for Asaka to speak.

“Boy, get back to work.”

Though he had dared to expect those words, his impromptu release from death nevertheless made his vision swim. He swayed from relief. Bowing until his forehead came into contact with the cold floor, he then tried to rise to his feet. His knees protested immediately. The cold had locked them in place. He compelled them to work, ignoring the pain in his legs as he hobbled the rest of the way, having no wish to test Asaka’s patience any further.

To his relief, he found that Asaka was paying him no attention, but was instead staring out into the dark sea. He sighed once but then tensed again as he found Mitsuo standing before him. The old, bent figure bowed slightly and offered him the copy of the map. He returned the gesture.

Forcing his numb hands to move, he reached for the map only to find his fingers wouldn’t close around it.

In embarrassment and shock, he could only watch as the map fell from his unresponsive hand.