Iriya the Berserker (8 page)

Once again the destroyer of tranquility started to hiccup.

“You mean to tell me you still don’t know whether the squirt would be better off with a peaceful life here or continuing on the road with us? You might be used to a life of hardship, but thinking the same holds true for everyone else is about as arrogant as you can get! Besides, there’s gotta be a pretty good reason for a place this size falling out of use. Give some thought to that before you start talking about anyone being lucky. Idiot.”

“
What
did you say?” Iriya snarled, the corners of her eyes rising.

“There’s something odd about this building.”

And saying that, D wheeled his steed around. Iriya asked D what was wrong, but naturally the young man didn’t answer. He turned in silence back to the road that’d brought them there.

The next place they called on was the sheriff’s office, where the group’s questions were answered.

Until seven years earlier, the Saint Golderday Orphanage had truly flourished. And then the children and staff had suddenly vanished. One autumn day, what sounded like an enormous key turning in a lock had echoed through town. It wasn’t until later that people noticed the disappearances, though not a single soul could provide an adequate explanation for the pair of bizarre occurrences. The staff of ten and the thirty-seven children never did return, so the institution was boarded up, and seven years later it still stood there in the red glow of autumn.

“If you wanna put him in a specialized institution, head on over to Asnow,” said the sheriff, who was tottering on the ass end of middle age. Although he kept his eyes averted from D’s face, his voice was dripping with rapture. “If you leave him here in our town, you’d best brace yourselves. Mining towns are rough. There ain’t a man jack around here who’ll cut you any slack on account of being a kid. To be honest, someone could grab him at any time and make him work in the mines for the rest of his life, and there ain’t a thing I could do about it.”

“A hell of a place this is,” Iriya said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her tone wasn’t critical. She knew as well as anyone that this was the Frontier. “But there’s not much we can do about that, right? So, what’ll it be, D?”

“Do as you like. Here’s where we part company.”

“Hold on,” the flustered Iriya said as, out of the corner of her eye, she looked at Meeker sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. “How can you be so cold? We can’t leave the kid here!”

“Look after him, then,” D replied curtly.

“How can you do such an inhuman”—at that point she remembered that D was a dhampir, but regardless, she continued—“thing like leaving him here? He’s been with us all this time! Why not consider letting him stay on?”

“I can’t say which would be easier: traveling with us or staying here. You come up with the answer.”

“But I . . .”

“You have a priest around here?”

D’s sudden query had the sheriff bewildered. “Nope. Oh, but he’ll be one soon.”

“The teacher?”

The sheriff nodded.

In many cases, teachers doubled as religious figures. Since the two vocations had but a few similarities, such ventures often ended in disaster, though the fusion of the hand that scrawled equations on the blackboard and the mouth that extolled the existence of God sounded tempting enough to make many give it a shot.

“Yeah, our teacher-priest might take the kid. Mr. Lazlo’s single, but lucky for you, his sweet old mother lives with him.”

Having said that, the sheriff stopped as if he’d just remembered something, turning his eyes toward a memo pinned to the side of his desk. There was a date scribbled on it.

“Oh, that’s right! Tomorrow’s the wall-raising ceremony for the new school. See, the old one went up in smoke about six months back. Mr. Lazlo’s always out there. Go have yourselves a look-see. It’s on the northern square. His address is . . .”

Beyond the window, blue darkness was already lurching closer.

The trio went straight to Mr. Lazlo’s house. The young teacher had only to answer a pair of questions before the matter of him taking in Meeker was decided.

“It won’t be luxurious, but I should be able to give him an ordinary upbringing. Leave him to me.”

As the teacher showed his pearly teeth, D said nothing, but he extended his right hand.

“At twelve, I have to go to the school for the wall-raising ceremony. If you like, please join us.”

Bidding him farewell, the two Hunters headed for the door. Iriya turned in the doorway. The boy was in a back room, apparently enjoying a game with Lazlo’s mother. His cheerful voice brought a smile to Iriya’s lips.

Saying nothing to the boy, the two Hunters stepped outside, accompanied by Lazlo.

“Pardon my asking,” the teacher said to Iriya, “but it’s my understanding that the two of you have no connection whatsoever to the boy—Meeker. Is that correct?”

Iriya gave a small nod.

The teacher continued, “From what I’ve had the pleasure of seeing, that doesn’t seem to be the case at all. I must apologize, but to be perfectly frank, for a while I had my doubts that you weren’t in fact his older brother and sister trying to get rid of him. If it’s possible, why don’t the two of you stay here and live with him?”

“Live?” Iriya said the word as if she’d just heard it for the first time.

“Yes—if you like, for the rest of your days. If that’s not possible, then at least until he’s old enough for the two of you to go off without hurting him. What do you think of that? I know you must be traveling for some purpose, but . . .”

“Are you so thick you can’t tell just by looking at ’em?”

“Excuse me?”

D squeezed his left hand into a tight fist.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m in a hurry,” he said.

“Is that so? And how about you?”

When the teacher’s quiet eyes gazed at her, Iriya grew agitated.

No. There’s no particular hurry. I’d like to stay here in town and live with Meeker.

Although those words resounded in her heart, Iriya shook her head.

“I’m sorry. I’ve also got important business to attend to.”

“Is that so?” Lazlo said, a smile rising on his lips nonetheless. “In that case, when your business is done, by all means—come back.”

“Come back?”

“We’ll be waiting. No matter what happens, please—come back to us.”

Iriya gazed stupidly at the proffered hand. Something made her take hold of it and give it a shake.

“D?”

The teacher gripped Iriya’s hesitant hand between both of his. “We’ll be waiting here, however long it takes,” he told her. His eyes were focused firmly on Iriya’s face.

“That’s a relief,” Iriya said, finally speaking once they were back on Main Street.

Darkness was falling. All the gates around the town would be shut now.

“Now all he has to do is grow up good.”

“Maybe he’ll be screwed up.”

“What?”

Feeling less like someone had just rained on her parade and more like a horrible sadness had washed over her, Iriya pulled tight on the reins.

When she heard the sharp whistle of the wind, Iriya felt cold steel against the nape of her neck. D’s quick draw. She hadn’t been able to react to it at all.

“Before we went to Lazlo’s house, you would’ve parried that.”

Iriya couldn’t refute what the Hunter said.

“It’s not your fault. But you’ve started thinking about your own future.”

In her heart, Iriya nodded agreement. Lazlo’s calming voice came back to her.
We’ll be waiting. No matter what happens, please come back to us.
It was an incantation for reclaiming what had been lost. She would return to this town and live with Meeker. She’d lead a new life. For Iriya, it was just like the days of old that’d been taken from her in that valley. Something she’d thought forgotten had begun to give off a golden glow. And it was starting to quietly dissolve the iron will that kept Iriya focused on her mission.

She shouldn’t have gone there. The teacher’s house had possessed a glow that was poison to Iriya in her present condition.

“You’re exactly right,” Iriya said, nodding. “I’ve gone soft. Stay your blade. I can’t die here.”

There was the sound of D’s sword rasping into its sheath.

“I’m going.”

Before the Hunter’s icy words had ended, Iriya suggested, “Wait until tomorrow.”

D started off.

“If you’ve got business to settle with those guys, you’re better off sticking with me. I’m convinced they’ve got more in mind than just a preemptive strike against the one hunting them. The fact that Mitterhaus tried to kidnap me instead of killing me is proof of that. Don’t you want to know why? Besides, you’re the one who took me to that house just now! If that’s what’s thrown me out of whack, you should at least help me get back to normal, shouldn’t you?”

D halted.

“Until noon tomorrow. I don’t think it’ll kill you to wait that long,” Iriya called out to his back, which was still turned to her.

Had he turned around, D would’ve found that a hitherto-unseen earnestness clouded the girl’s face in the darkness.

Mining towns, like any community centered around a given occupation, were filled from first light with unique sounds. The tolling of bells, the creak of wagon wheels, the whinnying of horses, shouts, screams, the whine of swords slicing through the air, and gunshots. To these common noises the sounds of boat engines would be added in a fishing village, or the clamor of feeding and training and the cries of supernatural beasts crated up for sale in a town where guard beasts were raised—and in a mining town, the drone of gantry cranes, jackhammers, and backhoes in operation was an irreplaceable part of the environment.

However, today things were a little different. From early in the morning, speakers concealed around town had been playing a hymn that’d been unearthed in the southern Frontier sectors about a century earlier.

We shall not veer from Thy path

The path Thou hast shown us

Even though strangers

May reject Thy guidance

We shall draw them to Thy path . . .

Shortly before noon, the hotel message boy came up to D’s room and handed him a note from Iriya.
Come to the west end of Main Street at 12:00
, it instructed him. Though ash-gray clouds covered the world, a golden glow leaking through them was proof that the sky above was clear.

At ten minutes to twelve, D left the hotel. The eyes of pedestrians were drawn to him as if they were possessed, and on more than a few occasions there was trouble as people or wagons bumped into one another. Prostitutes clad in the scantest possible traces of garishly hued clothing fell over themselves in front of their bordellos, while upstanding women and their daughters reeled, assailed by dizziness and forced to sit and rest in chairs lined up on the front porches of various buildings.

As Main Street fell into a panic, D reached its west end. A woman in a white dress stood there. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, held in place by a hair band ornamented with crystals, and the white veil over her forehead fluttered in the wind. In her left hand she gripped a longsword, both inappropriate and horrifying.

As she came closer, the faint aroma of perfume wafted around her. The girl was Iriya.

“Been to the barber?” D inquired.

Iriya grinned wryly.
What else could I expect from a man like you?
her expression seemed to say. “Oh, you! It’s called a beauty parlor.”

The hoarse voice chortled, but that ended with a pained groan.

“Well, how do you like my outfit?”

Taking hold of her skirt, Iriya spun around in an easy circle for him.

Nothing from D.

“We’d better go to the school for the wall raising. That’s the whole reason I picked this up at the used-clothes shop.”

Oddly enough, mining towns like Clements didn’t have many stores that sold brand-new, ready-made clothes. When there was call for such finery, a person had to wait for the merchant wagons to arrive from the Capital or make a special order. If not for that, life on the Frontier wouldn’t be possible. Inevitably, new clothes would make their way into secondhand shops. And that was where Iriya had made this purchase.

The gloves that came all the way up to her elbows were embroidered with flowers, and the dress itself was also covered with them. Roses.

“Well?” Iriya asked again. She was clearly expecting compliments.

“It looks good on you,” D said in a voice of iron.

“How sweet of you to say that!” Iriya replied, shaking with joy. This wasn’t the callous warrior woman who’d slain her own brother, but an ordinary country girl.

“But—did you know when you bought it?”

“Know what?” Iriya furrowed her brow. With a look on her face like she’d made some terrible mistake, she ventured, “I just picked out the prettiest thing they had in the window . . .”

D immediately gave her the answer. “It’s a wedding dress.”

Iriya was speechless.

“Good thing we’re not going to a groundbreaking for a church, eh? People might get the wrong idea.”

“Oh, no!”

With desperation on her face, Iriya looked down at the outfit she wore.

“I . . . I’d never so much as been to a wedding in the nearby village . . . I must look like an idiot. I’ll go change.”

Just as she was about to run off, a black-gloved hand caught her by the elbow.

“What?”

“It looks good on you,” D told her once more, turning east.

The hymn continued.

Though we may walk

Through the valley of the shadow of Death

We shall fear no harm

For Thou art with us . . .

“Hey!”

Reaching for the longsword that’d been effortlessly snatched away, Iriya looked at the culprit.

“A sword doesn’t suit a bride,” D said.

Sighing, Iriya blurted out something that was hardly appropriate, given the way she was dressed: “You’ve left me completely naked!” Quietly gazing at D, she slipped her hand under his left arm. “As a result—you’ll have to protect me.”