“Sooner or later, whoever’s behind the usurpation will have to make some kind of ‘divine’ display affirming his claim to the throne… Having my own source of miracles will even the playing field somewhat.”
Orchard-hand Sano is pulled from his small-town life to assist royal knight Hajime in restoring the usurped throne to Kenshin, the rightful king, and the two of them may find a connection beyond only this quest.
This story was last updated on July 29, 2018
Chapter 1 - Heretics
Chapter 2 - Purpose and Awareness
Chapter 3 - Another Homeward Encounter
Chapter 4 - Not Stable
Chapter 5 - Warrior's Coma
Chapter 6 - The Defense of Eloma
Chapter 7 - Alleged Miracles
Chapter 8 - Departure
Chapter 9 - Egato 8ni Kasun
Chapter 10 - Torosa Forest Road
Chapter 11 - Proxy's Son
Chapter 12 - Yahiko's Burden
Chapter 13 - Enca Inn North
Chapter 14 - First Report: Kaoru, Tomoe
Chapter 15 - First Report: Megumi, Misao, Yumi
Chapter 16 - Nine Years Later
Chapter 17 - Second Report
Chapter 18 - The K
Chapter 19 - Tangles
Chapter 20 - Thirteen Years Ago
Chapter 21 - Third Report: Purple Sky
Chapter 22 - Third Report: Wishes That May Be Prayers
Chapter 23 - Wanted
Chapter 24 - Playing Thieves Guild
Chapter 25 - A Small Gathering of Malcontents
Chapter 26 - The Visitant
Chapter 27 - At the Sanctum Doors
Chapter 28 - Twitch
Chapter 29 - As-Yet-Unknown Powers
Chapter 30 - Unoppressed Light
Chapter 31 - Final Report
Chapter 32 - Known Powers
Chapter 12 – Yahiko’s Burden
“So what’s your excuse?” This question, addressed by Yahiko to Hajime, was the next thing anyone said, and that several minutes later.
Sano still walked behind the other two, but not at a bad angle to see the quizzical look Hajime gave in return.
“We heard Sano’s,” Yahiko explained. “What’s yours?”
Into the silence that followed Sano finally stammered, “Heard my… wait…” As he worked out what Yahiko probably meant, he felt shock creeping over him as slowly and gradually as if he’d just witnessed something so incredible that his brain was struggling to catch up and even believe it had happened. “His excuse??”
“It’s interesting that you can tell,” said Hajime at last, in a thoughtful tone that gave no indication how he really felt about the question.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Sano still couldn’t entirely grasp what he was hearing, and was almost afraid to demand clarification in case he’d misinterpreted. Almost. “You’re a heretic too?”
“Yes,” Hajime replied simply.
Sano could not but protest this vehemently. “You could damn well have said something!” Part of his interest in the subject, he knew perfectly well, was relief that he was no longer the one under scrutiny, but he was also quite honestly annoyed that he and Hajime had this in common and the knight hadn’t bothered to mention it.
“Some of us don’t feel the need to walk around with it written on our chests,” said Hajime dryly.
“And here I was feeling outnumbered,” Sano grumbled. His hand went immediately, almost unconsciously, to the front of his shiiya, where there currently rode no heretically empty white teardrop symbol. He hadn’t really thought about it since he’d traded garments, but that was only because he’d encountered relatively few other people during that time. If he’d been in a town or if they had met a greater number of travelers on the road, he would undoubtedly have been more bothered by its absence.
“Don’t worry,” said the knight. “You’re still outnumbered in many ways.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Sano demanded.
At the same moment, however, Yahiko continued with his train of thought, and he seemed to be the one to whom Hajime gave his attention. “There’s a feeling about people… I can tell when…” the kid began, then trailed off with a shrug as if the idea wasn’t worth completing. “So why don’t you believe?”
“Do I need a reason not to believe?” replied Hajime mildly. “It seems the burden of proof rests on those who do.”
“Hear, hear,” Sano wanted to say, but did not. He found himself quite interested in Hajime’s opinion on belief, and didn’t want to interrupt again at the moment; besides, he’d probably been belligerent enough to Yahiko for one day.
“To me,” the kid replied slowly, “I can’t understand how anyone could not believe.” He looked up at Hajime with a serious expression. “So, yeah, you need a reason.”
Hajime gave a brief, faintly amused laugh. “Pretentious child,” he said. “Well, then,” he went on in the tone of one delivering a much-practiced speech. “It’s impossible for me to believe in an organization as corrupt as the church of the divine ladies.”
Immediately Yahiko pointed out, “That’s just the human side of things, though…”
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” said Hajime, less casually now but still with the ease of much repetition, “we live on the human side of things. The highest officials who serve your ladies and preach their word are rapists, addicts, power-hungry politicians, and worse. If you’d seen what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t be surprised the idea of following people like that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
Sano would never have told him, but Hajime made these points sound even more convincing than their innate logic could — much more convincing than Sano ever could, certainly. He couldn’t help admiring Hajime for it, and wondering at the incorrectness of the impressions he’d had about the man. In fact, he felt he had to say something. “And here I’ve been thinking all along you were another one of those self-righteous bastards who make other people’s lives hell and your own easier by quoting writ at just the right moment.”
Hajime threw Sano a skeptical look over his shoulder. “Have you heard me quoting any writ?”
“Well… no…” Sano admitted. “But I had you pegged as a loyal Kaoru man.”
“If I had to choose,” said Hajime, shrugging, “it would be Tomoe.”
“Oh, really?” Sano wondered in some interest.
But Hajime did not elaborate on why the lady of death would have been his choice, for Yahiko chose that moment to interject, “You don’t have to follow the church to follow the ladies,” at which Sano was surprised. He was accustomed to myriad responses to a revelation of heresy, but this was perhaps the least common. To most believers, to have faith in the ladies was to have faith in the church, and speaking out against the administration was heresy just as much as was speaking out against the divine.
Hajime too seemed surprised at Yahiko’s words. “You’re sounding almost heretical yourself now.”
“Hey, I like the church,” Yahiko assured them quickly. “I really do. But it isn’t what’s really important. So if that’s what bothers you, just ignore it.”
“It’s not that easy,” said Hajime.
“No, I guess not,” Yahiko sighed.
“Especially when we may have to deal with the church a lot in the next little while to figure out what’s going on in Elotica,” Sano put in.
He hadn’t really said it with any particular aim beyond expressing the concept, but it seemed to gratify both of his companions, as the conversation could then shift to the arrangement of the divine houses in the capital as far as Hajime knew. This turned out to be a good deal more interesting than Sano had expected — mostly because ‘as far as Hajime knew’ was primarily gossip. Like any villager, Sano had a healthy appreciation for gossip, and hearing the rumors about the various high-ranking religious officials in Elotica was very entertaining.
“So it sounds like the divine houses really are pretty important to what goes on in the royal ones,” Sano was musing.
“You’re just now convinced of this?” said Hajime dryly.
“Yeah, well, forgive me for not caring much what goes on halfway across the kingdom.” Sano realized even as he said this that it left him open for some insulting comment about his ignorant country ways, and tensed in readiness for it.
Hajime, however, evidently decided it wasn’t worth it, for all he said was, “Even if it turns out one or more of the divine houses didn’t put Soujirou up to this in the first place, they could be serious opposition; we’ll need to find out what they think of him and how much support they’re offering.”
“Well, we can use Yahiko for that,” Sano shrugged. “That’s right up his alley.”
After a pensive noise that seemed to express some agreement, Hajime went silent for a while. Finally he said, “There are a number of groups we’ll need to research, to find out whose side they’re on and what they plan on doing about it, if anything — but I’m convinced the divine houses are the most important.” He almost seemed to be speaking to himself, quietly, thoughtfully, as he went on, “We’ll have to find some way to get a reasonable amount of accurate information from all of them without arousing suspicion… without knowing, on the way in, which ones may be on our side, and who among them is trustworthy… And they’re all so exclusive in their corners of the city…”
“Sounds like a pain in the ass,” Sano admitted. He’d heard vaguely of the divine houses having their own private plazas in Elotica, and realized as Hajime spoke that it probably would be rather difficult to pick up detailed information from any of them. He had to shrug again, though, as he added, “But as long as we have Lady-Chatter here–” But that was as far as he got.
For Yahiko interrupted pointedly, “I’m trying to decide which one of you is the bigger jerk.”
“What?!” Sano yelped, turning to face Yahiko in shock. “How could that even be in question? What are you talking about?”
Yahiko had stopped moving, and looked upset again. He began speaking very quietly. “Every time I save someone’s town from guards or heal someone from a coma, people start talking about the amazing prophet boy, and the devoted hear about it, and one of them decides that he just has to have the amazing prophet boy at his shrine, but never bothers to ask the amazing prophet boy how he feels about it, because he’s a little orphan kid who obviously can’t make his own choices for his own life.”
He turned his angry eyes specifically upon Sano and demanded more loudly, “Why do you think those devoted were really following me that day? You think they chased me that far just because I stole something?”
Sano opened his mouth to answer, but nothing emerged. He was too surprised.
“No,” Yahiko went on, more loudly still, “they wanted to put me in a floor-length shiiya on a giant chair in a boiling room with a million candles to talk to the divine ladies all day and all night every day for the rest of my life!” By now he was almost shouting. “And somehow I thought you’d be better because you don’t even believe in any of it, but you’re just as bad as any of them!” His gaze took in Hajime as well, but this seemed primarily aimed at Sano. “All you care about is using me for whatever it is you want to do, just like all the rest of them!”
Somewhat dumbfounded, Sano continued to stand and stare, still unable to say a thing. At the beginning of this little tirade, it had felt like something out of nowhere — but he realized, as he looked back, it had probably been building up ever since he’d dragged Yahiko to Seijuurou’s house, and the conversation just now had simply been the final straw. The unpleasantness earlier probably hadn’t helped. And it had never occurred to Sano that Yahiko might feel this way. Of course the kid had a point, but Sano wasn’t… he wouldn’t…
“If you’re finished,” said Hajime coolly, “let’s keep moving.”
Now it was Yahiko’s turn to appear somewhat dumbfounded.
In fact his shock at Hajime’s cold words was evidently so great it seemed to compel the knight to explain. “I was sent to bring back the great keonmaster Seijuurou,” he said flatly, “to assist in a large-scale political struggle, and instead I’ve got two worthless kids to babysit. But at least two is better than one. You’re coming with us and you’re going to do your part to restore Kenshin’s throne.”
Sano was momentarily distracted from the real issue. “‘Worthless kids?'” he demanded irately.
Yahiko, on the other hand, turned abruptly, his face set, and began walking away from them back up the road. Without thinking, Sano took a step after him, reached out, and put a restraining hand on his arm. Immediately Yahiko tried to pull away, and Sano tightened his grip.
“Let go!” Yahiko commanded, struggling, and Sano looked around helplessly at Hajime. They couldn’t force Yahiko to stay with them if he didn’t want to, could they? Hajime’s expression was dark, and it looked as if he was about to speak, but the next moment they both heard Yahiko murmuring fiercely, “Kaoru, lady of strength, please give me the power to escape from these two bastards.”
Sano let go of him abruptly and stepped back, almost as much out of shock that his actions had made Yahiko feel the need to pray for ‘power to escape’ as out of interest in what would happen. He hadn’t meant to make Yahiko feel trapped; he hadn’t meant to be one of those people Yahiko had described that just wanted to use the kid for their own ends. He got the feeling he’d really fucked things up.
Not that Hajime had helped.
Yahiko’s eyes were closed, his fists clenched. For a moment he stood utterly still. Then in quick succession his face went pale and then red, and he seemed to tremble as if trying to control some violent emotion. At last he relaxed in a wilting sort of gesture, his hand uncurled, and he opened sorely disappointed eyes to stare sullenly at the ground.
“Finished?” Hajime wondered mildly. Sano had the urge to punch him.
“She said I run away too much!” Yahiko burst out. “She’d support me if…” But looking up into their faces caused his to twist into a bitter, miserable expression of helpless anger. “Fuck you both,” he muttered as he turned his eyes back toward the road again.
When it was apparent Yahiko would continue walking with them at least for now, they moved on. Nobody said a word, however, and the atmosphere was tense and unhappy. The kid’s steps seemed extremely reluctant, and he continued to stare at the ground.
He didn’t say one single thing to either of them for the rest of the day, and, the moment they stopped to make camp for the night, extracted his blanket from Sano’s backpack and curled up underneath it a few yards away with his back to them. When Sano tentatively asked if he wanted something to eat, he pulled the blanket over his head.
The two men ate their own supper in silence, looking from time to time over at Yahiko, who eventually relaxed, apparently in sleep. At that point Hajime moved to start building a fire, a task Sano impatiently took over. “You didn’t have to be such a jerk to him,” he said accusingly as he worked.
Hajime raised a brow. “Neither did you.”
“I didn’t call him a ‘worthless kid,'” said Sano.
“No, you said he wasn’t even human.”
Sano flushed. “I… I was pissed! I wasn’t thinking straight! And I apologized. He knows I didn’t mean it. You just say shit all calmly like you mean every word of it.”
“Of course I mean every word of it,” Hajime snapped. “Those of us who can control ourselves like reasonable adults have a tendency to do that.”
Brows drawing together, Sano stared at him. “Then you’re doing exactly what he said!” he protested. “You’re just using him!”
“I thought that was the understanding from the beginning,” said Hajime curtly. “I believe I told him I’d be taking him with me because his power could be useful against our enemies.”
Sano didn’t know what to say, so he only scowled.
“It is… unfortunate…” Hajime went on, seeming to force the words out, “that he feels the way he does about it. But there’s nothing I can say to change that, or the situation.”
“You could…” But Sano really had nothing to suggest, and to admit Hajime was probably right.
“Besides…” Hajime fixed Sano with a very pointed look, and continued in an easier tone, “I plan on using you too, and I don’t see you throwing a temper tantrum.”
“I… what?” Sano had been ready to say something, but was put a bit off balance by Hajime’s statement — not least because the phrase ‘I plan on using you too’ was so rife with meaning.
Hajime smirked faintly. “What you both apparently need to realize is that there are some causes worth being ‘used’ for. You’d think his beloved ladies would have told him that,” he added with a touch of sarcasm, “in their infinite wisdom.”
“Yeah, funny how your wisdom beats the ladies’,” Sano said, though he wasn’t sure whether he intended this as an insult directed at Hajime or a derisive comment on the supposedly all-knowing nature of the divine. He was annoyed, partly with himself and partly with the knight; he didn’t know what he thought of what Hajime had said, nor how he felt about the situation with Yahiko; and he didn’t really want to keep discussing it right now.
So he pulled out the remaining blanket, since it was his turn tonight, and stretched out on a side of the fire where he could put his back to both of his companions. He didn’t want to think about either of them. Of course he would think about both of them, but that didn’t mean he had to look at them.
Eventually he fell asleep, and had a string of hazy, uncomfortable dreams that were full of guilt and pity and irritation, and yet drenched in a sense of inevitability, which was in itself annoying. Needless to say, Yahiko and Hajime featured prominently in these visions, though Sano, upon awakening, could remember very little of what had happened in any of them. Though that might have been because what he found in the morning worked quickly to drive all thoughts of the night’s sleep from his mind.
Yahiko was gone.
For a moment Sano was surprised, not because Yahiko had chosen to leave at all but because he’d been quiet enough not to rouse either Sano or Hajime in doing so — but after that moment even that surprise faded. It wasn’t the first time Yahiko had done something that seemed completely impossible right before Sano’s eyes; anyone that could take out ten armed men in half a minute could sneak away from two others. Even if they’d seen this coming — which Sano supposed he really had, at least subconsciously; he had no doubt Hajime had — there was little they could have done about it.
Yahiko had folded his blanket and left it lying on top of Sano’s backpack, the same as he’d done to the bedding he’d used in Sano’s house that first night, and looking at it brought an unexpected pain to Sano’s heart. He hadn’t known him long, and didn’t know him very well, but he’d felt genuine interest in Yahiko’s situation as a solitary orphan. He definitely thought there must be something wrong with the kid that he believed what he did, but at the same time he regretted a lot of what he’d said to him, and the way he’d said a lot more of it.
And then there was still the fact that Yahiko was about the same age Outa would have been; and certain similarities of temperament Sano thought he detected between Yahiko and himself made the kid seem all the more like a sort of surrogate brother. But now he was gone and, like Outa, Sano would probably never see him again in this world. What was worse, he was gone thinking badly of Sano, and at least part of it was certainly Sano’s fault.
Today Hajime had awakened before Sano, and had been sitting silently beside the cold fire pit eating an apple while these thoughts went through Sano’s head. He was stripping the thing down with vicious teeth, Sano noticed abstractedly, tearing at it with all the method and thoroughness he might have used to pull flesh from bone on a roast chicken leg, leaving as little of the core behind as he could. Sano, finding he had no appetite of his own at the moment, began packing up. He saw out of the corner of his eye Hajime rising and apparently throwing that sliver of a core out into the trees. Sano braced himself for some comment he would rather not hear.
All Hajime actually said was, “Wouldn’t it be better to fold that other blanket too?”
Sano snorted. Hajime undoubtedly had no idea he was echoing Yahiko, but it was interesting he’d managed to bring up the same concern. As he had then, “Why?” Sano wondered. “We’ll just unfold them again later anyway.”
Whether something in Sano’s voice or face gave him pause, whether Hajime really did have some sense of empathy somewhere inside him, or whether he simply had nothing to say on the matter, the knight made no comment whatsoever about a third of their party having disappeared during the night; he merely joined Sano in walking away from the little area they’d used for their camp and back onto the road, and together they moved on wordlessly toward Elotica.
Chapter 13 – Enca Inn North
If Sano remembered correctly (and it was not at all unlikely he didn’t), Elotica (whose name meant ‘beautiful shrine city’) had been built by a pious king (so pious he’d actually earned himself the title ‘the Pious’) for the express purpose of having a bunch of enormous shrines to the divine ladies sitting in the corners of a huge walled enclosure surrounding the new royal palace (which would then, presumably, be all the more holy).
And this was the real reason Sano had never found his way to the capital. Its being the seat of government did not bother him, but, as the seat of the church and having been designed and commissioned by someone with a name like ‘Rionura the Pious,’ it just seemed far too religious a place for a heretic to be comfortable in. Thus it was that even the draw of an arms tournament had not been enough to tempt Sano that far south, and that when he and Hajime caught sight of the city down in the hazy distance after rounding one of the mountainous spurs of Lotisa that had previously hidden it from view, it was Sano’s first sight of the place.
Having spent the initial decade of his life (still, technically, the greater part of his life) in a city — the former capital, in fact — Sano had thought he knew what to expect. But while his childhood home of Encoutia sprawled lazily along a stretch of Akomera’s western coast, expanding haphazardly in whatever direction suited the fancy of its inhabitants, Elotica appeared almost like a fortress behind its high walls, and whatever growth might have taken place since the time of its building had occurred inside. From here it looked very neat and self-contained, almost intimidating.
Much more familiar and pleasant to observe was the smaller city of Enca, which Hajime identified when Sano inquired about it. From a mid-sized shrine town at the time of Elotica’s building, it had grown until its southeastern border was less than an hour’s walk from the great walls, and it fit much better Sano’s idea of what towns and cities were like than the looming capital.
“We’ll stop at an inn there,” Hajime said as they continued down the road after the long pause spent looking out at their destinations. “It’s still a little too close to Elotica for comfort, but better than being actually inside the city.”
“So you can keep your head down, and I can go in and find out whatever it is you want to know,” Sano finished.
“Yes.” Hajime didn’t sound terribly pleased at the prospect.
“You know,” Sano said in some annoyance, “you don’t always have to make it seem like I’m imposing on you or something.
“Do you think you’re doing me a favor?” It wasn’t exactly a sneer, but neither was it very far from.
Sano threw him an irritated look. “A little, yeah. You said yourself you can’t just walk in there because people will recognize you. I’d like to know who else you think’s gonna do it for you.”
“And you as good as said you’re doing this as much for yourself as for me, as revenge against Soujirou for your banishment from your hometown.”
“Well, that’s definitely part of it.” Sano’s hands clenched into fists at his side. Even if they were successful in this venture, managed to overthrow the usurper and restore Kenshin’s throne, the mindset of the people in Eloma was such that Sano was unlikely to be welcomed back. And while he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to go back to the life he’d had there — he’d never been entirely sure he’d wanted it in the first place — he would prefer it to be his choice, not that of some paranoid old man whose opinion he didn’t really care about. But that didn’t make Hajime less of an ungrateful jerk. “But not all of it!”
Hajime gave a disinterested noise and kept walking. Sano didn’t feel like letting it go, though, and demanded to know why the knight seemed so determined Sano wouldn’t be any good to him. It turned out to be the wrong wording entirely, as Hajime then began to enumerate Sano’s apparent flaws and why they might prevent him from properly completing the task at hand. Then of course Sano had to defend himself and attempt to return the insults, though how well he did either in the midst of his wrath was anyone’s guess. And in this amicable fashion they passed the last two hours or so before reaching Enca.
This more populated area provided an increasing amount of traffic on the road. Hajime’s voice grew quieter and quieter, and his face was turned more and more frequently toward the ground, with every fresh proof that they were penetrating a danger zone. He became visibly tense, too, as if ready for combat or flight at the slightest provocation, and, any and all prior arguments notwithstanding, Sano was a little sorry for him.
He tried to imagine what it must feel like to be a fugitive in your own town, to have to approach home with your face hidden. Probably very much like his own current circumstances compounded. Nobody, however, appeared to take any particular notice of the knight or give either him or Sano any odd or lengthy scrutiny, so Sano judged they were still safe, even once they’d properly entered Enca.
“I believe there’s an inn near this end,” Hajime murmured as Sano began looking around with interest at the buildings that flanked the street in relatively orderly patterns and the city folk going about their business. “Keep your eyes open.”
It was a while since Sano had visited a town this big, but to his understanding there was an inn at every end where travelers might be snagged; it shouldn’t be difficult to find. This indeed turned out to be the case, less than half a street along; and as there was sure to be a yard in back, they agreed (or, rather, Hajime ordered and Sano did not object) that the knight would wait there and Sano would come find him once he’d arranged things.
Most inns were constructed along similar lines, whether they had just two guest rooms like the one in Eloma or three storeys’ worth and a couple of wings like this one, and there were always two entrances: one that led through the common room, for those socially inclined, and one that led through the innkeeper’s office, for those looking solely or first for a place to sleep or store their luggage.
Sano didn’t remember ever having seen an inn this massive. He was sure he had, back when he’d lived in Encoutia as a child, but he didn’t remember it. Still, it was easy to tell which door was the one he wanted: the one that wasn’t constantly swinging open at some cheerful person’s heels and admitting a tantalizing impression of activity, friendly sounds, and the smell of food. With something of a sigh, he headed for the quieter door.
A strict-looking woman sat behind a desk in the chamber he entered; she set down the book she’d been reading and asked in a polite but rather rigid tone, “What can I do for you, master?” And in just those few words Sano heard the Elotica accent even stronger than he ever did from Hajime.
“Got a room for two?” he asked. The woman threw a glance around as if to ask, rather pointedly he thought, where the second person was. Sano didn’t like that, but told himself not to be paranoid; it was highly improbable for anyone to know yet that he had the displaced king’s chief knight with him, and impossible for anyone to know who he was at all. So he just explained as easily as he could, “My friend’ll be around in a while.”
This seemed to satisfy her. “Sure,” she said. “How long?”
“Dunno yet. What’s the rate?”
“Seven and a half azu a day includes a hot meal and bath.”
Sano managed not to wince, but it was a near thing. It wasn’t by any means an unreasonable rate, and, if he’d thought about it beforehand, no more than he would have expected — but also not something they could afford indefinitely. “How much without the meal?” he asked. Innkeepers hated being asked that, but he needed to know.
“Six.” As expected, her tone went a little cold as she said this.
A meal for two at an azu and a half was not a bad price (though that did rather depend on the quantity and quality of the food), so Sano placated the woman immediately with, “We’ll take the whole deal.”
Immediately she thawed, giving him a professional smile and shutting her book.
Sano dropped to one knee the better to set down and rummage through his backpack. The wadded blankets blocked his access to what he was after, which, he supposed, was a point in favor of folding them, and eventually he had to pull them both out onto the floor. He threw a somewhat embarrassed glance up at the innkeeper as he did so, and found her watching him in bemusement. After a sheepish grin he returned to his pursuit, and now was able to locate and extract the money he sought. After stuffing the blankets away again he stood, resumed the backpack on his shoulders, and moved toward the woman’s desk.
A moment’s hesitation accompanied his beginning to count out the cost for the night as he realized he had no idea how long he and Hajime would be here — specifically, how long they would both be here — and therefore how long they would need a room for two. In the end he decided on giving the innkeeper only enough for tonight; he could hash out the details with Hajime, and pay the woman more as necessary, later.
The innkeeper pocketed the money with the same polite smile as before. “Thank you,” she said, her chair creaking as she rose. She turned to open a large cupboard mounted on the wall behind her and full of jingling keys on little hooks. Withdrawing a couple of these, “I’ll show you up,” she said.
The room was on the second floor in the east wing, and Sano was glad to see, on the way there, another set of stairs leading from the rear yard that offered a greater amount of privacy than the main flight they’d taken. As her brisk innkeeper’s tone enumerated the amenities, confirmed with him that they would want their supper brought up, and gave instructions on how to summon available services, he examined the room with an eye to how it would fit the current situation.
A window looked out, as far as Sano could tell at a glance, over the rear yard and the property next door. Beneath this window, against the wall, stood a small table that seemed like a cramped seat for two but had a pair of stools tucked beneath it. On this side of the room, beside the door, was a stand with a basin (currently empty) and a row of drawers down its front. All of the furniture was old and solid, not particularly decorative but well maintained. And the beds, against the walls to the right and left, looked neat and comfortable.
Sano wasn’t entirely sure why it struck him just at that moment that if Yahiko hadn’t left, someone would have had to share a bed with someone in here unless they felt like paying for three, which expenditure he doubted Hajime would have been pleased with.
“And there’s hot water service at dawn,” the innkeeper finished up. She handed Sano the room keys. “Please return these or pay for another night by ten in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Sano nodded, his eyes for some reason still focused on the beds until long after she left.
Finally he shook himself, set down his backpack, locked the door, and went looking for Hajime. It took some work to time things correctly so as few people as possible would see the knight’s face, since there was the usual coming and going of patrons about the inn, and once they were both safely inside the room Sano breathed a sigh of relief.
Hajime, as Sano had rather expected, moved immediately to the window and started taking in their surroundings. “How much was this?” he asked.
“Seven and a half,” Sano replied. “And they’ll bring us up supper.”
“And how much do we have?”
Sano grinned wryly. “I don’t know how much ‘we‘ have, but with what Seijuurou gave me, I have a couple hundred azu.”
“That is essentially ‘we,'” said Hajime regretfully, “since I only have what I had on me at the time when Soujirou made his move. There’s not much reason for a royal knight to carry money around the palace; it’s a miracle I had anything at all.”
“A miracle, huh?”
Hajime turned from the window with a faint smirk. “Lucky,” he corrected himself. He hooked a foot around a leg of one of the stools, drew it out from beneath the table, and sat down.
“How much do royal knights make, anyway?”
“The other four earn a hundred fifty a week,” was Hajime’s easy reply. “As the chief, I get a hundred seventy-five.”
“Old week or new week?” Sano had taken a seat on one of the beds, and was already judging its comfort level favorably — though of course anything would be more comfortable than sleeping on the ground as he had been for the last several days.
“Shit,” muttered Sano. “And here I thought I was doing well with twelve azu a day.”
“And we live at the palace.” Hajime was clearly rubbing it in. “So that’s room and board too.”
Sano hmphed, but his slight annoyance didn’t mean he wasn’t interested. To someone that had grown up the way he had — first in a reasonably comfortable but never opulent household and then in a one-room home that hadn’t even, for several years, belonged to him — the amount of money Hajime had mentioned seemed, for a single person, insanely luxurious. And yet Hajime hadn’t struck him as the type to wallow in riches, which prompted him to ask, “Was that much of a change for you?”
“I was always careful with my money.” The very slight emphasis Hajime put on ‘I’ conveyed clearly the otherwise unspoken sentiment, “As I’m sure you aren’t,” but he continued before Sano could protest. “A higher wage just means I have more saved; I’m not given to extravagant purchases.”
“No, I bet you aren’t. But the palace has gotta be better than wherever you lived before. I mean, the rooms I saw in that memory you showed me and Seijuurou…”
“The palace does have some needlessly fine rooms, but my quarters, at least, are perfectly reasonable.”
Sano grinned and shook his head. “Of course they are.”
“In general, though,” Hajime conceded at last, “life at the palace is on a different level than what I had before.”
“And what was that? What’d you do before this whole knight thing?” Before Hajime could even begin to answer, Sano added, “I mean, not that I can’t picture you having been a royal knight since you were about two years old, but still…”
Though he smirked faintly at the tease, Hajime answered straightforwardly enough. “I came from Emairi when I was twenty-seven, near the end of the Refugee Issue.”
“East coast, huh? No wonder you don’t sound much like an Eloticaji. What’d you do in Emairi?”
“I was in the guard for almost nine years.”
“So you really have always been doing the same kind of work. As long as you’ve been working, anyway… this kind of watching-out-for-crime sort of job. Only now it’s political.”
Hajime nodded with a slight smile. “Something like that, yes. My parents are both in the Emairi guard to this day.”
“Really? But if you were twenty-seven eight or nine years ago… your parents have got to be almost sixty or something!”
“While I commend your grasp of basic mathematics, I fail to see your point.”
“Well, it’s just that…” Really, it was just that Sano’s father had married late, and had always seemed like an old man to him — especially through the distorted perspective of childhood, which was all the chance he’d had to form an impression — and thus he found it a little difficult to imagine the parents of someone even older than himself, people nearing the ends of their lives, still pursuing such an active career as guard-work. Of course, if Hajime was their son, they were probably made of stone themselves, so it shouldn’t have been all that surprising. He shook his head. “Never mind.”
Though he evidently agreed that never minding was the wisest choice, Hajime also appeared, perhaps, a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t get a chance to make fun of Sano for whatever erroneous opinion he’d been about to put forward.
Hoping to eradicate that chance completely, Sano pressed hastily on. “Men or women? Your parents, I mean.”
Hajime raised a brow, but there was no particularly heavy scorn in his tone as he asked, “Why this sudden interest in my family?”
Sano shrugged, feeling abruptly a little awkward. “Just curious,” he replied honestly. “Must’ve been nice to grow up with a family,” he added at a mumble.
“I don’t know that the presence of parents growing up would have saved you from becoming much what you are now.” Though it seemed like an insult, Hajime’s tone was more solemn than mocking, and Sano wasn’t sure how to take the statement.
Eventually he decided to act as he would have if it had been a more straightforward gibe. “That’s probably true, since it’s obvious your parents couldn’t save you.”
Hajime just smirked.
So they alternately argued, mostly about nothing terribly substantial, and talked rationally, mostly about heredity and genealogy, until interrupted by the arrival of supper. This consisted of spiced pork over rice, seaweed cakes, a tiny sweetbun for each of them, and water to drink, and was tasty and filling enough to make it worth what they’d paid for it — to Sano, at least; ladies knew how the rich knight saw the matter. Hajime gave his sweetbun to Sano, which wasn’t a terribly good sign, but he also didn’t complain or make faces about the fare, which probably was.
This reminded Sano of the questions he’d been pondering earlier, so, after their dishes had been collected by the inn staff, he asked whether Hajime thought they should continue in this room or switch him to a smaller one tomorrow. There was no escaping the circumstance of Hajime’s face being seen occasionally by the employees here if he was to remain while Sano was in town, regardless of what room he occupied, and keeping the innkeeper happy and less inclined to pursue the matter seemed optimal; so Hajime judged, at any rate, and decided therefore to retain the larger room, at least for now, despite the cost.
Sano couldn’t help noticing a certain amount of tension in his thoughts dissipate at the announcement of this decision; was that because if they were to take a smaller room, it most likely would have necessitated, eventually, at some point, Sano sharing a bed with Hajime? And where, he wondered in agitated annoyance, struggling to brush these reflections aside, was this bed fixation coming from today?
This led very naturally to a discussion of the mission on which Sano would be embarking the next day: the layout of Elotica and various localities within it where he might be able to obtain information, what and whom he needed to avoid if he could, and of course, most importantly of all, what he was looking for.
“Try to find out,” Hajime lectured, “which major members of the royal families are in Elotica right now, what their attitudes are, and where their loyalties lie. Find out the same thing about the divine houses.” At first he counted points off on his fingers, but eventually stopped, Sano thought because his points were a little too multiform to be numbered by a single standard. “Keep an eye open for signs of any sort of resistance forming, as well as for a good place to meet in secret within the city. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to find out where Kenshin is being held, but, again, keep your eyes open. And listen for any news of what’s happened to the other royal knights.”
“Got it,” Sano nodded.
Though Sano did sigh, it was a little less angry and a little more hopeless than it might have been a few days ago, or perhaps even just this morning. He was getting used to Hajime consistently underestimating him. “You think I can’t remember all that?”
“Well, can you?”
Imitating the knight, Sano raised his hands and began counting on his fingers. “Find out what the royal families and the divine houses think of Soujirou. Look for signs of a resistance forming and a meeting place for that. See if I can figure out where Kenshin and the other knights are. Not that hard.”
“Fine.” Hajime appeared grudgingly satisfied, but that didn’t mean he had no further instructions. “Don’t stand out; don’t act suspicious. Try not to ask too many direct questions at this point; just listen as much as you can.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Sano waved away this obvious advice in some irritation.
“This is too serious,” said Hajime in a tone to match, “for you to take lightly.” And as Sano looked at him, he realized in some surprise that the knight was actually trying not to show how worried he was. Worried about the situation in general? Or about trusting Sano with so many important tasks? And in the latter case, did Hajime’s attempt to hide his concern mean he was deliberately attempting to be less of an asshole? Or was it because he didn’t want to admit even to himself that he had no other options?
In any case, Sano thought, at least at the moment, he deserved a perfectly level answer. “No, I’m taking this totally seriously,” he said. “Seriously. I won’t screw it up, I promise.”
Hajime’s thin lips pursed briefly before he said a little stiffly, “Thank you.”
Sano grinned. “You know I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me?”
“It’s the first time you’ve done anything to deserve it.”
“Oh,” Sano retorted, half amused and half annoyed, “so saying something in a serious voice is worth more than picking up your unconscious body off the road and taking care of your wounds and getting you to safety, is it?”
“You should go to bed,” was Hajime’s only reply. “Get a good night’s rest before you leave.”
Sano made a sound that conveyed the same combination of amusement and annoyance as before, and stood up. “First I’m gonna go see what kind of baths they have here; might as well take advantage of it while it’s paid for.”
Hajime just nodded; Sano found himself not only surprised but, oddly, a little disappointed that the knight had no teasing remark to make concerning his hygiene or something. He thought about making one himself in response to the lack of a similar declared intention on Hajime’s part, but decided against it. Instead, without comment, he just went to do as planned. And when he returned from his ablutionary pursuits, Hajime was asleep, or at least motionless in bed and facing the wall.
Chapter 14 – First Report: Kaoru, Tomoe
Just under two weeks later (five-day weeks; being in the capital had resolved him on thinking in modern terms as much as possible, at least until this whole affair ended), Sano returned from Elotica. All things considered, he was in quite a cheerful mood, and even sang a little as he walked the wide road between the two cities — only a little, though, since the road was fairly busy and he didn’t want to attract too much attention.
Not far inside Enca, on the main market street, his eye caught on a stand of fine-looking fruits in bright pyramids. Mouth beginning to water, he grinned ruefully at the thought that though he’d left the orchards, the orchards apparently never left him… a nice big shiny apple would be perfect right about now, regardless of how many times in the past, sweating in the hot sun, arms aching from the tenth bushel he’d hauled in the last couple of hours, he’d cursed the very existence of apples and sworn never to eat one again.
In order to preserve his dwindling funds (having left much of the money he possessed behind for Hajime to continue paying the inn bill with), he’d limited himself, in the city, to as little food as he could possibly get by on, so he hadn’t had breakfast any time recently. It was getting to be nearer lunch time now — another meal he would probably end up skipping today — and an apple seemed all the more appetizing in the face of this. Well, he would just have a look at their prices.
The latter were so reasonable, and the fruit up close so appealing, he simply couldn’t resist. And the semi-guilty determination on this extravagance led to another brief internal debate: buy one apple and finish it before he reached the inn so Hajime would never know, or buy two apples and hope the gift would justify the expenditure in the knight’s eyes? After not a great deal of thought, he went with the second option.
He was more eager than he would have expected, he’d discovered since rising today, to get back. Not only had he found out some interesting and probably useful things, which would undoubtedly surprise the skeptical and exacting Hajime, there was also some anxiety that would not be banished about the safety of said Hajime, hiding as he was at a public inn practically on the doorstep of the city he’d fled not too long before. Sano comforted himself with the knowledge that there would surely have been a stir both here and in Elotica if Hajime had been captured, but he also restrained himself from eating his apple until he found out for sure.
The inn looked as it had two weeks ago, with no more or less bustle, no ominous Elotica city guards or Gontamei knights hanging around, or anything else that might have indicated sinister goings-on in his absence. He took the back stairs up to the east-wing second-floor corridor, and then paused for an embarrassed moment when he realized he didn’t remember which room he needed. Looking at the line of doors reminded him the next moment, however (even more embarrassed), that his key had the number painted on its flat bow. With both apples clumsily in one hand, he sought out the key, checked the number, moved to the appropriate door, and began to unlock it. Softly through the expanding aperture as he opened it he called, “It’s me.”
Hajime had pushed the table away from the window, and now sat on one of the stools in a position where he could look out the open shutter and, presumably, take some minimal entertainment from whatever went on in the yard and the properties visible nearby. At the moment, it appeared the interest and wariness with which he’d directed his eyes toward the door was the greatest instance of those emotions he’d felt any time in the last eight days; he looked as bored as anyone Sano had ever seen, and there was, for half a second, visible pleasure in his face at the sight of Sano entering.
“Hey,” Sano greeted him, tossing down his backpack onto the bed on the left and stretching. “I’m back.”
“So I see.” Hajime’s voice gave no hint he was glad to see his companion, and by this time his expression had also adjusted to indifference, which was a little annoying but simultaneously unsurprising.
“Everything all right here?”
“Yes,” Hajime replied impatiently. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Oh, I dunno… because you’re a fugitive from the conquering regime, maybe?” Sano was a little stung by the implication that he wasn’t allowed to express concern for Hajime and his situation here, but it didn’t bother him as much as it would have if it hadn’t been clearly obvious Hajime was bored out of his mind and far more eager to hear what Sano had learned than to discuss the last eight days of sitting around looking out the window.
Hajime relented a little at having it pointed out that Sano had a legitimate reason to ask. “It’s been fine. The inn staff are polite and don’t ask questions. I’ve avoided everyone else.”
“Good, good.” Sano sat down on the bed. “All right, what do you want to hear first?”
“That depends on which of our points you managed to find out anything about.”
“All of them, thank you very much!”
“Even where the king is being held?”
“Oh, no, not that. Sorry. I forgot about that.”
“How could you forget about that??” Hajime sounded almost horrified.
“I mean I forgot about it just now,” Sano assured him hastily, “not while I was in town.” He tried not to sound affronted at the idea he might forget something so important, but couldn’t help feeling it a little.
Irritably Hajime commanded, “Tell me about the royal houses.”
“Fine.” Sano let out an annoyed, huffing breath, wondering why their every conversation seemed to go this way. He’d even been glad to see the knight at first — gladder than he’d expected — and yet it had taken Hajime less than five minutes to get under his skin again. But he drew the breath back in deeply, forcing calm upon himself before he began.
“So it was strange. From what I heard, there’s hardly anybody from either royal family in town, and the ones that are are staying way the hell out of this. In fact, supposedly some Gontamei princess packed up and left the moment Soujirou did his thing. Of course that was just the gossip I overheard, since I didn’t want to come right out and ask anyone, but it still seemed really strange even to me who doesn’t know a damn thing about the royal houses.”
Hajime was nodding slowly. “It’s a hint that the main push for the usurpation came from somewhere else; the royalty want to make it clear they’ve had nothing to do with this and aren’t taking sides. I thought that might be the case.”
Throwing up a frustrated hand Sano demanded, “Then why’d you ask me to find out about the royal families?” He thought of how long he’d spent hanging around big rich houses pretending to be browsing for work as household staff so he could gossip with the existing household staff, and wondered whether it had all been a waste of time.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Hajime dismissively. “Of course we’re not going to ignore them even if it seems like the divine houses need more of our attention.”
Well, he did have a point. Again Sano forced himself to remain calm. Seeking something to do with his hands and reminded by his gesture a moment ago of the apples he held, he now began to juggle them as he continued speaking. “Everyone’s wondering what’s gonna be the reaction from people like Fumio and Shinorutei and Hokichi. I didn’t hear any real news about any of them, just a lot of guessing.”
And it had damn well taken him long enough to figure out, without actually asking and thereby making himself look like an idiot, that Fumio was Kenshin’s grandfather and a former dantaoji, and Hokichi his great-uncle and prince of Encoutia (which latter fact Sano, having been born in Encoutia, really should already have known). Of course Shinorutei was Kenshin’s mother dantaoji, who had acted as regent after his mother the queen had died and before he’d been old enough to rule on his own; Sano knew that much. He was sure Hajime knew all of it, though. Stupid politics.
“That will be interesting to see,” said Hajime in pensive agreement. “None of them will have any material power in this issue, but they all could have considerable influence. They could be in considerable danger as well, since Soujirou and his people will also be aware of that influence… I hope, whatever they do, they do it carefully. I wonder how Houji will react, too.”
“That was another name I heard a lot,” Sano nodded. “Most people I heard mention him feel like he’s got more right to be offended by Soujirou than even anyone from Barenor’mei.” After all, if any Gontameiji had a right to the throne, it would be Houji, the senior prince; Soujirou was something like eighth in line. “No real news about him, though, or any of the others. Not much real news about anything, actually. Everyone’s talking, but not actually saying much of anything.”
Sighing, he caught one apple in each hand, flopped onto his back on the bed, and directed his words now toward the ceiling. “You were right about the people… They’re like wandering little kids, but not know-it-all kids like Yahiko. They don’t know what to think, and they’re all looking for someone to tell them. If any resistance is gonna happen, I couldn’t figure out where… there was plenty of arguing going on in the inn I stayed at, but it never seemed like it was gonna go anywhere.”
“Typical. What did you find out about the divine houses?”
“Well, I knocked a Kaoru devoted over the head and took his shiiya–”
“You have an interesting idea of lying low,” murmured Hajime.
“–and wandered into Kaoru’s neighborhood pretending to be some new devoted who just came from a small-town shrine. I played stupid at the first gullible-looking person I met, and the guy showed me around everywhere and answered all my questions.”
Tone unaltered, Hajime remarked, “‘…played stupid…'”
“Yeah, shut up. So Kaoru’s white’s this girl Ayame, and I guess her gold sister is always with her and they pretty much run the house together. They support Kenshin, and everyone knows it.” Hajime had mentioned something like this during their walk to Enca, when he’d been reporting on what gossip he was familiar with about the divine houses, but Sano was determined to be thorough so Hajime could find no fault with his report.
“Yes…” Hajime sounded as if this was exactly in keeping with what he knew. “Kaoru is Kenshin’s lady, and her house has been the highest-favored in Elotica for years.”
“Those girls are interesting, though,” Sano mused. “While I was in their plaza they came out and did this thing…”
Kaoru’s center of worship in Elotica was tiled in red and hung with red and painted red. It didn’t look bad, necessarily, but Sano couldn’t help thinking that anyone living here must, in response, be angry quite a lot of the time. He wondered whether the Kaoru devoted considered themselves closer to the hypothetical lady of righteous wrath whenever they were feeling her emotion. Pissed off though he himself often was, he didn’t think he could stand to spend much time here.
The devoted at his side, wearing, as Sano was, a red shiiya marked with a white teardrop shape containing Kaoru’s erupting volcano symbol, chattered away about the plaza they’d just entered. He knew far too much of its history — primarily the names of what Sano supposed were notable followers of Kaoru and the precise years in which they had done what Sano supposed were notable things here in this very place — and it was all Sano could manage pretending to be interested. Fortunately, he got the feeling the devoted was trying to impress him — probably hoping Sano could be enticed into bed later — and therefore was hypersensitive to encouragement.
The plaza decorating, Sano had to admit, could be considered somewhat attractive if you liked austere red. It was remarkable how many rocks of that color, great and small, they’d managed to find to fill the plots between the building’s walls and the tiled ground. Sano, who hadn’t thought rocks could be arranged to nearly such good effect, was impressed at the layout. He couldn’t help wondering, though, to what extent weeds poked up among the artistically-arranged stones, and how much service for the populace — usually an essential function of red devoted — was being neglected in favor of the maintenance of Kaoru’s rock gardens.
The temple, like most religious establishments, was a five-sided structure surrounding a central space that could be accessed through an opening in the pentagon’s base. In this case, the building was so massive that the inside space was the plaza, big enough to hold special fundraising markets and holiday gatherings. A twelve-sided stone platform in the center, two steps above the tiles (undoubtedly intended for preaching from, ritual prayers, and Kaoru knew what else), was at the moment covered with lounging devoted — mostly reds and first-wash — enjoying an outside lunch in the pleasant autumn air. With the high walls of the temple all around, midday was probably about their only opportunity for sunlight in here.
The chatty devoted at his side had started talking about a statue that had previously stood on the platform and the circumstances that had removed it, when he cut off suddenly with, “Oh, look.” Following the direction of his gaze, Sano observed, approximately opposite across the plaza, a couple of woman whose attire marked them as the highest officials of this house.
It gave Sano an odd feeling seeing their shiiyao, one having been washed in a bleaching solution four times until it was off-white and the other only three so it remained a yellowish gold. He hadn’t really moved among devoted since his childhood when his father had been alive, didn’t believe in anything they did, and had been observing all of this thus far with a detachment half fascinated and half disgusted — but there was yet something interesting, even exciting, about being so close to the white devoted of any house, if only because he or she was someone most citizens would probably never meet.
This white devoted was a young woman, no older than Sano himself, carrying a staff the way all whites supposedly did and looking ready to use it cheerfully on anyone that annoyed her — though the keonblade she wore at her side in a red sheath would probably be more effective. Even from a distance, Sano liked the way she carried herself: determined, one step away from aggressive, and yet, oddly enough, relatively friendly. The third-wash woman beside her, perhaps just a little younger, had the same brown hair, and features similar enough, at least from this far off, to mark the two as close relations.
Sano considered asking what their names were, whether they were sisters or what, and why they were both so young in positions he generally associated with greybeards, but thought better of it. This was all information he probably should have known if he’d really been a devoted of Kaoru, and he didn’t want to make his guide suspicious. He would undoubtedly be able to pick it up along the way.
“Come on, let’s get closer,” the red at his side said. Wondering why they, along with several others on the plaza, were now suddenly mobbing their superiors, Sano followed at his gesture.
“Friends!” the pretty white cried as soon as she was a good distance from the door she’d come out of. She tossed her staff aside without even looking where she threw it, and it was caught so readily by someone nearby that Sano deemed this a regular occurrence. Then she drew her keonblade, letting the energy flash out into a sword-like shape perhaps just a touch longer than was typical, and began swinging it carelessly through the air. “Who will challenge us?” she cried, grinning around at the various approaching devoted.
The gold, drawing a sword that seemed to be a match to the one the white carried, expanded on her superior’s offer. “Any weapons! Any techniques! Bring them all!” And without another word, she and her sister (as Sano, drawing closer, had decided to assume the other must be) fell into a defensive position, back-to-back, just slightly offset so the right hand of each had plenty of room to swing its bright weapon.
The rasp of swords leaving sheaths suddenly sounded from one end of the plaza to another, and the glow of spiritual energy on keonblades actually seemed to be making a visible difference to the level of light even under the bright sun. It wasn’t just keonblades, though: there were standard swords, daggers, staves, a few brass knuckles, and even a couple of weapons Sano didn’t recognize offhand. The devoted specifically accompanying Sano had a pair of long knives.
Those that weren’t interested in challenging the white and the gold were moving outward toward the edges of the plaza and the temple walls, some of them grumbling a little but none of them concerned or appearing to think this anything out of the ordinary; and the atmosphere had changed abruptly from business as usual, if perhaps a little more tense than elsewhere in the city, to a jovial combative hum. It was like nothing Sano had ever seen before.
“Yes,” Hajime commented, “they do that fairly regularly, I’ve heard.” Once again he sounded as if none of this was in any way news.
“Misao’s lockpicks!” Sano swore in protest. “If you already know everything I found out, why bother me going in to find it?”
Hajime gave a sarcastic monosyllabic laugh, unexpectedly did not point out that the combative habits of Kaoru’s higher-wash wasn’t what Sano had gone into town to find out about, and said, “Just go on.”
“Anyway, when I attacked them–”
This time the knight broke in emphatically enough to force Sano to stop speaking. “Why did you attack them? I told you not to stand out.”
Sano sat up and threw one of the apples he held at Hajime’s face. The knight caught the missile only just in time, his expression a mirror of Sano’s annoyed glare. “I wasn’t standing out!” Sano said. “Plenty of people were attacking them! And if they do that all the time, and people challenge them all the time, wouldn’t it look weirder if some guy wearing a fucking sword didn’t attack them?”
After a moment, Hajime’s brows loosened their constriction over his eyes, and he said, “Fine,” and left it at that.
“It was amazing.” The interest of the memory overrode Sano’s irritation, and he continued in a tone of wonder. “Nobody could touch them! They just stayed back-to-back and moved like they were one person, and kept everyone back.” He himself had found, and not for the first time on this journey, that he could maintain his energy blade with little trouble for some reason, despite not being angry just then… but his attack had been thrown off with nearly the same level of ease and unconcern as Seijuurou had often shown while sparring with him — and that was saying something. “I don’t know what kind of technique it was, but they were… amazing.”
“I’m sure they were,” said Hajime, a little patronizingly. With supercilious eyes he was examining the apple he held.
“Have you ever tried fighting them?” Sano demanded. “I bet you couldn’t touch them either.”
“I’m not a devoted, idiot. They only do it on their own plaza.”
“Riiight.” Sano mimicked Hajime’s raised brow, but with his version of the expression tried to convey skepticism at this obvious excuse. It didn’t much matter, though, since Hajime was looking at the apple and not at him, and presently just ordered him to go on.
Sano obeyed. “So I hung around there until I found out about Ayame and Suzume and whose side they’re on. Seems like nobody was even surprised when they told everyone officially they didn’t approve of this stealing-the-throne business; actually I think people’d have been surprised if they hadn’t.
“But they’re not doing anything about it. At least not openly, not yet. I got the feeling someone there might try something eventually, but they’re waiting for something. Waiting for it to feel safe, maybe. And meanwhile all the Kaoru devoted are just going on like they always did, which I think is sending a message to the city people that they should just keep going like they always have.”
Hajime nodded, frowning, still regarding the apple as if it were positively riveting, though Sano didn’t think he was really looking at it anymore. “And there’s no way to tell whether Kaoru’s response is the usual hypocrisy about the divine houses staying out of politics,” he murmured, “or a circumspect way of supporting Soujirou while claiming to support Kenshin.”
Sano, to whom this had occurred (not entirely without external prompting), mimicked his nod. After a moment of pensive silence he shook himself and said, “Anyway, so then I went to see about Tomoe.”
“You knocked out another devoted to steal another shiiya, I assume?” Hajime’s tone was a little weary as he asked.
Sano had to admit he didn’t feel at all good about having done that — and not just because it wasn’t nearly as subtle as both he and Hajime would have preferred him to be on this venture. But all he said in reply was, “Hey, the bright side is that, now I have the lady-damned things, I won’t have to do it again.”
Hajime rolled his eyes.
Ignoring this, Sano went on. “So I did the same thing that worked at Kaoru, and it worked there too…”
Around each of the five temples in Elotica was a neighborhood containing everything related to the running of the religious branch that didn’t fit into the temple itself: housing for the devoted and their families — since only the most highly ranked lived inside the temple — storage facilities, offices, and Sano knew not what else. The temples nestled in corners of the main city walls, and the associated area had to be traversed to reach each one; fortunately for Sano, who’d already gotten lost more than once in this complex city, the temples themselves were so big that, once you were in their general vicinity, they were impossible to miss.
Fanatical dedication to lady-specific coloring was apparent the very instant Sano stepped onto the first street of any of these neighborhoods. But whereas Kaoru’s color agitated and overwhelmed, Tomoe’s dejected him unexpectedly. He didn’t know whether brighter purples were more expensive or difficult to come by, or whether the followers of the lady of death thought a hue closer to black was more appropriate to display their zeal, but the entire place was dark and dreary from top to bottom. Among all this gloomy deep purple, Sano’s eyes were singularly grateful for the sight of all the red and orange shiiyao of the lower-ranking devoted that comprised most of the traffic in this area.
His face must have been showing the increasing dismay these surroundings induced, for, as he walked past what was pretty clearly one of the quarters or barracks or whatever they called them, one red devoted broke away from a small group of her fellows talking by the door and came toward him.
“Good morning!” she said, and there was kindness in her tone, undoubtedly in response to his morbid demeanor.
“Morning,” Sano replied, looking her over. She was slender almost to the point of frailty, with big, liquidy eyes that drooped so far they must surely slide off her face one of these days and gave her a perpetually sad expression — or perhaps that effect was achieved by all the dark purple. The droopy eyes were that same color; he reflected disrespectfully that this was probably the primary reason she’d become a follower of Tomoe.
“You must be new,” she smiled. “Are you lost?”
He took interested note of the fact that she recognized him as a newcomer on sight; he’d thought there must be too many devoted for any one of them to be that familiar with the group. But, he reminded himself, his hair was fairly distinctive: he rarely combed it, and it probably couldn’t have been more obvious even at a casual glance that he would have hacked it short in an instant if anyone in this narrow-minded society would be willing to do business with him under those shockingly deviant circumstances.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I just got into town today,” he answered her assumption. To the question he replied with a forced grin, “I’ve already gotten lost a couple of times–” which of course was true– “but right now I’m just looking around this neighborhood.” He threw a slightly helpless glance at the buildings that, like shadows themselves in their depressing hues, cast morning shadows over the both of them.
She smiled again. It was a sad-looking little smile to match her sad-looking eyes. “Well, I could show you around, if you’d like; I have nothing to do until second bell.”
The regular sound of bells ringing out the hours from the palace in the center of town was something Sano hadn’t yet become accustomed to and wasn’t entirely sure he liked… but he grudgingly had to admit its usefulness for citywide punctuality. He might even remark upon it at some point, since his cover story was still that he’d just been transferred here from a rural shrine. But at the moment he only said, “Thanks!” in legitimate gratitude and satisfaction. “That’d be great!”
Droop-eyes turned out to be every bit as knowledgeable about the neighborhood and plaza, and the goings-on therein, as the Kaoru guy that had given Sano a similar tour over the last couple of days; Sano figured there was probably a helpful know-it-all type ready to escort newcomers around in every corner of town. But whereas that Kaoru guy (whose name Sano had already forgotten) had, to all appearances, been motivated primarily by lechery, this woman (whose name he eventually learned was Toki) seemed to be acting out of genuine kindness. Sano wasn’t sure whether, under the circumstances, he preferred an interest he didn’t at all return or a kindness he felt a little guilty about taking advantage of.
His excuse at Kaoru’s plaza for why he wouldn’t be staying with the other devoted in their quarters had been insubstantial in the extreme, and he’d actually been a little surprised that his amorous guide hadn’t pursued the matter, but today he had a much better answer to give to the polite questions Toki asked in her quest to help him out as much as possible.
Yesterday he’d overheard a Kaoru devoted — an actual newly arrived red from a country village — grumbling about how quickly upon arrival she’d been assigned to assist the city guards in a sentry job at the other end of town and how she would have to stay there, rather than in Kaoru’s neighborhood, for several days. It was easy to regurgitate this, right down to the slightly disgruntled tone of one that would much rather be rooming with fellow devoted during the first nights in a new city. And Toki, glancing at the sword he wore, seemed to think this story perfectly plausible.
Armaments among the Tomoe devoted were much more scarce than among Kaoru’s followers. There, nearly everyone had borne a weapon of some sort, and Sano had observed more than a few relatively good-natured spars break out over practically nothing during the last couple of days in the red neighborhood… but here it was almost the complete opposite. Tomoe devoted seemed to strive, rather, to outdo each other in accommodation. Their no, after you mentality was somewhat amusing, but Sano didn’t think he could stomach it for very long.
On the way to the plaza, Toki listed the functions of the buildings they passed, as well as some trivia about the plaza itself once they entered it. Completely disinterested in most of this, Sano made a few futile attempts at getting her to talk about house politics and the higher-wash, but she didn’t seem to take the hint. Finally, when she’d just finished up a relatively enthusiastic (considering her placid tone) description of their ritual prayer traditions here, Sano applied a blunter force.
The temple and the plaza were built to precisely the same design as Kaoru’s, though with actual gardens of various purple flowers in place of rock gardens, and Sano had his eyes fixed on the door from whose red correspondent at Kaoru’s temple he’d seen the white Ayame and the gold Suzume emerge. “Do you think I’m likely ever to meet the fourth-wash?” he asked. “It’s not something you ever expect back in Esabanca–” this was the totally made-up town whence he supposedly came– “but now that I’m here…” He trailed off as if he didn’t want to be putting himself forward or soliciting false hope.
Toki gave him that wan smile of hers again. “I don’t see why not… if you’re around here long enough, you’re sure to meet him eventually. It probably won’t be today, though, since the Devoted Council meets on Yum’hyou and I believe Enishi spends the rest of the day taking care of any other business he has at the palace or in that part of town.”
Sano had never heard of a Devoted Council and didn’t know what part of town she meant, but, since a devoted probably should have heard and should know, he didn’t ask. Instead he just nodded.
Obviously Hajime too had never heard of a Devoted Council, but just as obviously had a guess. He broke into Sano’s account at this point to demand in a tone of curiosity tinged with something darker, like suspicion or even horror, “Devoted Council?”
“I’ll get to that,” Sano assured him; “hang on.”
Hajime took one last bite of the apple he’d mostly finished, then set the core down on the table and chewed with a thoughtful frown as Sano continued his account.
Regretting the necessity for such directness but seeing no other way, Sano asked, “Has he had anything to say about the new king?”
Fortunately, Toki’s expression didn’t change; whatever her personal views on the subject, she didn’t seem to regard his question as suspicious. “He’s issued house-wide instructions that we’re to carry on as usual. There’s no reason for any of us to concern ourselves with who’s king… it doesn’t change anything here.” She sounded placid enough as she delivered the words, and it seemed a good bet to Sano that she agreed with them.
Actually, now he thought about it, Tomoe was (among all the other silly things she stood for) the lady of acceptance, wasn’t she? Tomoe’s followers probably had no choice but to accept Soujirou if they didn’t want to look like even bigger hypocrites than all devoted already were. Even if this Enishi didn’t approve of the change in government, there was nothing he could do about it openly, not even express disapprobation… and if he wanted to do anything about it covertly, this random red off the street undoubtedly wouldn’t know.
Even as Sano related these last few thoughts, it struck him suddenly that the official response of the house of Tomoe to the new regime had been the entire point of this part of his story, and it had taken many fewer words to tell than the far-less-necessary rest of it. And before, in his account of his experience in Kaoru’s neighborhood, he’d gotten caught up in describing things as he’d seen them and relating his impressions on all manner of only peripherally related aspects of the experience.
And yet Hajime hadn’t stopped him or given any signs of impatience (with Sano’s storytelling methods, at least). He’d even nodded subtle agreement at Sano’s assessment of the ladies’ colors and their probable effect on the moods of their followers, and laughed a little at the description of a woman whose eyes seemed ready to slide off her face at any moment. Perhaps he was humoring Sano; he must realize this was not only Sano’s first visit to the capital but his first close contact with the central branches of a religion on which he’d turned his back and by which he’d always felt persecuted. Of course Sano would get a little carried away in describing what he’d seen and heard over the last several days, and perhaps Hajime understood.
Unsure if he could ascribe to the knight such a generous impulse toward himself, Sano recollected by way of additional explanation that Hajime had been sitting in a small, undecorated room with nothing to do and no one to talk to for almost two weeks, extremely bored in addition to the concern he’d already been feeling for the king and the country’s situation. It was no real surprise if he didn’t mind a bit of unnecessary elaboration.
Still, whatever Hajime’s reasons for not protesting, Sano didn’t want to give the impression that he’d lost track even a little of his real mission in favor of sight-seeing. He didn’t want to provide Hajime with any excuse to denounce his efforts. So he resolved to tighten up his narrative, be a little more professional, for the rest of his report. He was going to impress Hajime one of these days if it killed him.
Chapter 15 – First Report: Megumi, Misao, Yumi
Megumi’s yellow gave him a headache. He supposed it was a cheerful color, especially as compared to Tomoe’s, but they’d so often used a harsh, eye-straining yellow rather than the soft pastel in which he usually saw the lady herself portrayed in paintings and the like… how could anyone live in these religious neighborhoods?
Today’s know-it-all was actually two know-it-alls, and Sano had quickly decided this was the best way to go about things. The old man, a doctor as were not a few followers of the lady of life, and his daughter of a more researching (if still medical) bent, were both reds and both extremely chatty; Sano could throw out a subject and get them talking, sit back and listen until the information he wanted came up, then insinuate another idea in order to send the conversation in a new direction.
He didn’t make it onto the plaza until late afternoon. The cheerful father-daughter combination took charge of his morning and lunch — which they insisted he eat with them and several others in a dining room in one of the devoted quarters — and didn’t get around to giving him much of a tour until they’d thoroughly worn out his ears with all sorts of information, useful and otherwise.
The woman — little more than a girl, really, even younger than Sano — explained enthusiastically about the work she was doing and the things she was learning and the results she and her mentor strove for in their research. If Sano was any judge, ‘mentor’ would not for very long describe what the other researcher was to her; and the father didn’t even seem upset at the idea of his daughter leaving the family at the age of seventeen.
As interesting as were the marital prospects of this complete stranger — and Sano really was interested (or at least more interested in that than in the largely incomprehensible medical-research talk) — it wasn’t what he was here for. Throughout the day and the various topics that had been discussed in his presence — not a few of them introduced by himself with a subtlety that rather pleased him — he’d gotten a pretty strong impression of what the general attitude was around here toward the kingdom’s new leadership, and he thought he could guess what the official stance was… but he wasn’t about to take a guess back to Hajime.
An afternoon bell had just rung, and Sano and his guides had been standing in silence on the plaza listening with varying degrees of respect to an elderly second-wash reciting a ritual prayer in the shadow of the great statue of Megumi that stood in the center of the pentagonal area. Sano was glad when the tedious kuumaruaya was finished, but, though he didn’t much like having to give the ritual response at the end as a good devoted must, he couldn’t say he regretted listening: the woman had said something in her prayer about ‘guidance toward the good of the kingdom,’ and Sano doubted any better opening for what he wanted to talk about was likely present itself.
“So…” He turned thoughtfully to his companions as if suddenly struck. “What is the official word from the bosses on ‘the good of the kingdom?’ On the new king, I mean?” He still didn’t much like having to ask directly, but at least this time he had some excuse.
At first, though, he feared he’d been too direct, when the young woman and her father exchanged a look he didn’t understand. But when the girl said, “Of course you wouldn’t have heard,” Sano decided he was probably fine.
“The official word is that it’s none of our business, and to carry on as usual,” the man told Sano in a low tone.
“But it’s hard to believe that’s really what they mean,” the girl added.
“Of course we do what they’ve officially told us to do,” said the father hastily.
“Of course,” agreed the girl. “But we’re still curious what’s their real opinion.”
“Why?” Sano broke in, knowing from the day’s prior experience that they might go on talking about this nonstop without providing that crucial detail.
“Shougo and Sayo,” the father answered, still in that hushed, gossipy tone. “The last I heard, nobody’s seen them this time for over a week.”
The girl said, “I heard it was going on two.”
Sano had picked up the mentioned names a few times that day, and was fairly certain he remembered correctly that Shougo and Sayo were brother and sister, and both golds; he didn’t dare ask for confirmation, though.
“Ever since the government change–” this was the polite term for ‘usurpation’ the wary had adopted– “they’ve been acting strange.”
“It started just then. We can’t believe it’s a coincidence.”
“They disappear for half a day, or even days at a time, and when they are around they’re distant and worried about something.”
“None of us–” it was clear from the accompanying gesture that this meant ‘none of us at the red and first-wash level’– “know what’s going on, but we’re all curious.”
“And worried! What if they’re trying to take part in some resistance or something right under Gensai’s nose?”
Sano couldn’t help asking, “Do you think they would?”
“I have no idea! To read the journals, you’d get the impression the whole house is pretty evenly divided, and there are some good points on both sides… but who knows what Shougo and Sayo think?”
“There was one journal — by Hanabi from Lotsu, I think — that made a very good point about the myths people commonly believe about heredity…”
“And that’s one thing,” Sano told Hajime, “that I had no idea Megumi people did: they write these journals. All of them are always writing journals, I guess, and then they tack them up in the buildings, and they all read them and talk about them. It’s weird.”
He’d managed to relay not quite so much unnecessary detail this time, and was disappointed to note that Hajime seemed less invested in the story. Was that because Sano’s sparser narrative had been less interesting, or in appropriate professional response to Sano’s appropriate professional terseness? There were still a lot of things about Hajime Sano just couldn’t figure out.
“Anyway,” he went on, “except for that thing about Shougo and Sayo, it felt just the same as all those people sitting around debating at the inn I was staying at: a lot of talk that’s never gonna go anywhere. It’s like they feel like they’ve done everything they need to as soon as they’ve written a journal about it, and then they can go back to whatever they were doing before.”
“Did you try to contact those two golds?” asked Hajime in a frowning tone.
“I thought about it…” By this time Sano had lain back down and was looking at the ceiling again. “But I thought, if they are part of some resistance or something, they’re doing a really shitty job keeping it secret, and I should probably stay away from them unless I have no other choice.”
A long moment of silence tempted Sano to sit up and see what expression might be on Hajime’s face, but he forced himself to remain as he was. He’d made a specific decision for reasons he thought were perfectly rational, and was ready to argue his point if Hajime wanted to condemn him. But eventually Hajime said, “We’ll keep them in mind, though.”
“Yeah.” Sano was more pleased than he could express at this unspoken approval, and his next statement, incongruously, came out sounding quite cheerful: “So word from Misao was pretty much the same…”
This was positively unbelievable. Sano had been assaulted with any number of new sights and experiences over the last few days, but this was by far the most astonishing of all of them. He could barely even begin to give credence to what he saw, and had to work to keep himself from shaking his head at regular intervals trying to get at the truth rather than this impossibility his eyes seemed to be presenting him.
Misao’s neighborhood looked nice.
It wasn’t just that they obviously didn’t mind using other colors as accents against that of their lady; it wasn’t just that, instead of slapping up any and every hue indiscriminately as paint availability allowed, as the devoted in the other religious districts seemed to have done, they had instead carefully combined variations on the color to the best possible effect; it wasn’t just that they avoided too much eye-straining use of the brighter, glowing end of that variability, keeping rather to more restful pastels and well-blended gradients for larger spaces and saving the more intense shades for drawing attention to details; it wasn’t just that they’d even occasionally allowed the building materials — usually stone, but sometimes a nicely-treated wood — to retain their natural hues instead of slathering paint all over every available surface to blare out their devotion to their lady…
It was all of this, and in addition the fact that they seemed to be better at it than anyone from Kaoru, Tomoe, or Megumi. Everything here had been done more adroitly, with a better eye to its effect and greater care for both its individual appearance and its coordination with other structures nearby. Sano would never have been able to believe it of orange; he’d been expecting this area of town to be the absolute worst. It was only after examining and admiring everything around him for more time than his overwrought brain could keep track of that he remembered Misao’s status as lady of the visual arts.
That she was also the lady of thievery he was reminded by being the victim of three pseudo-robberies before he even managed to have one real conversation with anyone.
The first pickpocket, a red about Sano’s age, got his attention by dropping a few coins into his hand with the statement, in a tone of greeting, “You’re a little too easy.” This remark (and its various possible interpretations) was so unexpected and strange, especially given that the speaker had essentially said it in passing, and when combined with the apparent gift of money out of nowhere so utterly bizarre, that Sano was more or less stunned for a few moments. It took several moments longer for him to realize the coins were his, and this, at least, prodded him out of his stupor. The pickpocket had returned exactly as much as he’d taken, Sano determined with a quick count, but how he’d gotten at Sano’s belt pouch without alerting him even in the slightest, Sano didn’t know.
What the second had to say was, “You’re making yourself a target, you know,” as she offered him his very own sword with a cheeky grin. Having thought he’d used all his capacity for astonishment today, what he felt at discovering someone had managed to unsheathe the weapon he wore without his beginning to notice overwhelmed him such that he was unable to say a word in reply. He just took the keonblade and stared as the first-wash winked at him and continued on her way.
“You must be new around here,” was the friendly, sympathetic comment of the third, a man perhaps ten years his senior, as he held up Sano’s entire belt-pouch in a gesture similar to what he might have used to return something Sano had accidentally dropped rather than something he’d somehow deliberately taken from him.
Trying not to gape at the man and probably failing, Sano accepted his belonging and struggled for words. Finally he managed, “Yes! And nobody did this back home!”
The red devoted laughed and clapped Sano on the back, disrupting for a moment the process of re-fastening the pouch at his waist. “You’d better get used to it; it’s tradition around here!” And thence he proceeded to make it obvious that he would be today’s know-it-all.
So interested was Sano in this bizarre tradition, and the nimbleness of finger that allowed the followers of Misao to carry it out, he didn’t feel the tiniest bit guilty about pursuing the topic with his new companion before he even started thinking about maneuvering the guy around to talking about Nenji, Misao’s white devoted, and what he and the other higher-wash might have had to say about Soujirou.
As fascinating as this had been to Sano, at the moment he decided Hajime didn’t need to hear about it, and restrained himself with great force of will from recounting it. All he said was, “They don’t officially care, and if they care underneath they’re pretending not to. But at Yumi I totally got lucky.”
Green was by far the most soothing of the five lady colors, and as such Yumi’s part of town looked better than anyone else’s except Misao’s. Which was not to say it looked good, just that there was a certain automatic benefit offered to the decor by the combination of coolness and relative brightness of the color. The devoted shiiyao, though, in their spectrum of red bleached to orange and warm yellow, did look rather jarring against it; still, he had to wear one.
To come across a red devoted in the proper state of solitude and apparent likelihood to recover well from a knock on the head had taken most of the day, so Sano hadn’t found his way into the green corner of the city until the sun had already sunk past the great walls and thrown everything into shadow; perhaps that skewed his opinion of the colors, but objective assessment of the decorating skills of the devoted was not what he was here for.
Knowing Yumi for the lady of love, Sano had somewhat expected to find her followers an unusually romantic lot, but just walking through her neighborhood didn’t give him any sign of this; there weren’t even any couples kissing in doorways or anything. But he did find that the unforeseen amount of music floating from down alleys, out of doorways, and off balconies, giving the entire walk a pleasant, cheerful feeling and reminding him that Yumi was also the lady of the performing arts, made up for this vague and not terribly important disappointment.
This neighborhood broke the trend by not supplying a know-it-all, but that might have been because Sano had wandered into it so late in the day… or perhaps merely because he ended up spending so little time there and not needing one at all. For as he was about to enter the plaza to see what kind of flower beds and statuary they had (and whether they might not, perhaps, have couples kissing in there), he happened to have his eye and ear caught by movement and conversation out around the side of the temple.
So, instead of going through the opening into the space surrounded by the great building, he followed the path that led to the left. He moved quietly at first, just in case this area was off-limits to reds or something, but soon saw it could not be: a wagon full of crates and packages of various shapes and sizes, which had been brought around to a side or back door of the temple, was being unloaded by a few legitimate reds while none other than the white devoted and one of her golds looked on.
Not yet having been in the capital very long, and having spent the entirety of his adult life in an orchard town some distance from the kingdom’s cultural hotspots, Sano had only a vague idea of what might or might not be in fashion at any given moment; he was pretty sure, in fact, that Eloma had always been at least five years behind the times when it came to shiiya cuts and sleeves and hoods. But even he could see that Yumi’s fourth-wash was about as fashionable as someone limited to a preselected religious outfit could be. From the ornament in her artfully-face-framing burgundy hair to the pointed bareness of her shapely legs to the interesting metallic spiral pattern on the otherwise black staff she held carelessly in one manicured hand, the word ‘chic’ seemed apropos — and that wasn’t a description Sano frequently employed. ‘Attractive,’ even — and he wasn’t generally attracted to women.
Busy in conversation, she didn’t even glance at Sano; but her third-wash companion, a short, bald, yellow-toothed man much less worth examining than his superior and a much less likely-looking follower of the lady of beauty, took immediate notice of him. Gesturing to the wagon he ordered, “Come on; give them a hand with this.”
Obeying, Sano at first had to stifle his annoyance at the apparent assumption on the old man’s part that he was either here for this purpose or at least had nothing else pressing to do; but this annoyance quickly faded as he realized he was suddenly in a uniquely advantageous position to eavesdrop on the white devoted’s relatively private discourse and hopefully find out what he needed to know without bothering about the type of circumspection he’d been wearying himself with in all the other divine neighborhoods.
So he quickly discovered where the items were being deposited, and thereafter dawdled as much as possible in retrieving new ones off the wagon in order to hear what he could of what the white had to say. The first partial statement he managed to catch was, “…have more important things to do than make sure all the little people are behaving themselves.”
“And you think I don’t?” The ugly man sounded rather grumpy about this.
Next was, “…need to be staying out of anything even a little bit political, all right?” Her somewhat low and gravelly voice had a pouty, almost teasing-sounding tone that it was no wonder her subordinate didn’t seem to be taking entirely seriously. “It’s none of our business.”
And the third statement, apparently in response to something perhaps somewhat rude from the gold, was, “…just the same thing from another angle! We won’t be making a commotion on either side of the issue, so of course I’ll do what…”
When Sano next emerged, it was to the sound of the gold’s surly complaint, “…at the palace as much as possible so you can socialize.”
“I think you’re jealous,” the white replied pertly; evidently taking direct criticism from her lower-wash didn’t bother her much. “And anyway that has nothing to do with it. Usurper or not, the Devoted Council was a fabulous idea.”
At that moment her eyes lighted on the package wrapped in paper and string that Sano had just extracted from the wagon. “Ah, there it is!” she cried in delight, and ran forward to take it from him; obviously she’d only been waiting around out here for this, and the conversation had probably been intended merely to pass the time until what she wanted from the delivery was unearthed.
As the object was quite heavy for its size, Sano warned, “You’re gonna need two hands for this.”
She gave him a smile that managed to be both condescending and flirtatious at once, and said, “You must be new.” Then she took the parcel lightly in her free hand, spun it deftly a couple of times on two fingers, winked at the now-gaping Sano, and turned with swaying hips to walk away.
Sano didn’t actually narrate quite to the end of this scene, since that last bit had been a little embarrassing and definitely not important. And anyway, Hajime broke in, this time sounding somewhat frustrated, when Sano reached the last item of interest Yumi’s gold had mentioned: “What is this ‘Devoted Council?'”
“Almost there,” Sano said in reply. “I saved the best for last. Well, it happened last, too. Since I pretty much had exactly what I wanted to know just from that, I went back to the inn instead of wandering Yumi’s neighborhood. And while I was sitting there eating supper…”
The low, tense chatter filling the common room was growing downright frustrating. After six nights of keeping his ears pricked for any signs of actual resistance against the usurper and hearing only a lot of directionless and often very ill-informed back-and-forth, Sano was sick of listening. He would be glad to leave Elotica in the morning, even if the part of his report regarding the types of things being discussed in the common room of a large inn would be obnoxiously disappointing.
The one thing that could be said for the ongoing intense discussion was that it allowed a stranger disinterested in interaction at this venue to sit at the bar in solitude and eat his supper without being accosted by anyone for whatever reason. Or, at least, it had up until now. A hand on his shoulder was the first indication anyone here was paying attention to him, and it came almost in conjunction with the quiet statement from behind him, “I knew I’d be running into you pretty soon here.”
Startled, very worried about who could possibly have recognized him in the capital so far from home, Sano turned swiftly to see whose hand might soon need to be broken if it didn’t immediately vacate his shoulder. Hopefully they’d mistaken him for a friend and could be quickly turned away. But his growling reply died in his throat when he saw who it was, and no other sound replaced it there for a long moment.
This, the second palace mural I drew, obviously depicts divine lady Misao and some of the animals she loves. Her hair looks really weird, though. Her hand is worse, but at least the bunnies are cute.