Holes riddled the wooden walls of the abandoned house, and very little of the roof remained. The lower half, the stone portion, was relatively intact, but the chimney had collapsed. This had been built around a stabilizing iron bar of some sort, which was now exposed in the house’s ruin and to which they’d tied Soujirou in a seated position with his arms behind his back.
There were three of them — two men and a woman — and they mostly ignored him, now he was restrained, and kept watch out the windows or other openings in the walls. Apparently they worried someone wouldn’t come alone as they’d demanded.
Sometimes they looked at him, though. Sometimes they even talked to him.
“Always smile,” his mother had told him — regularly, as far back as he could remember. “You want people to like you, and they will if you smile.” Of course her smile didn’t seem to make people like her, but maybe that was because she hadn’t practiced since she’d been his age. People did what she told them, anyway, and Soujirou along with them.
So he smiled. But he had a strange feeling it was that very expression that kept drawing the man back to him.
“You know where we’re from, lil prince?”
He had an accent Soujirou didn’t recognize — and didn’t like — so when, reluctant but knowing he must follow his mother’s constant instructions to answer people’s questions, he drew breath to reply, he guessed the farthest city he could think of under these trying circumstances: “Emorisa?”
The man laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. “I don’ know where the hell tha is, buh no.” He tapped the flat of his knife against Soujirou’s shoulder, as he’d done a few times already, and Soujirou forced himself to smile so he wouldn’t cry. “No, kid, we’re from Rauori — leas two of us are; I think Yaru’s from Corilo.”
“I’m sorry,” Soujirou faltered. “I don’t know where that is.”
“You’re a polie lil shih,” the man grinned, slapping his knife again. “We come from Ayundome! You know where Ayundome is?”
Soujirou scrambled through his memory for the geography lessons his mother insisted were so important, but all he could remember was that Ayundome’s capital was Celoho and it bordered Akomera to the… northwest? Its primary trade, the nature of its people, any detail of its history… it all slipped away from him.
Seeing his smile failing, the man laughed again. “Well, maybe you’re too young! So I’ll tell you this: a lah of people are running away from our country inna yours righ now, to geh away from the war, y’see? And every single one of those people is jus hoping to geh hold of a lil porable gold mine like you. I wouldn’ be surprised if you geh picked up twice a month the whole year.”
At the thought of going through all of this again, Soujirou felt an unconquerable lump rising in his throat. He couldn’t have spoken even if he’d known what to say, so he merely smiled somewhat desperately.
“Shuh the fuck up, would you, Lasuyo, and come watch this side?” The other man was big and every bit as unpleasant as the first, and more in charge. Now, as Lasuyo made a rude noise and did as he was told, the other man, Yaru, came to look down at Soujirou with no particularly friendly expression but at least no specific malice. After a moment he said, “He’s jus trying to scare you, kid. Nobody else is gonna kidnap you, unless you’re really unlucky.”
“I’m not scared,” Soujirou lied, smiling.
The big man stared at him for a moment, until finally a twisted smile appeared on his face as well. “Maybe you’re nah,” he allowed, seeming slightly impressed. “So jus sih quieh.”
The Ayundomeshou continued to move around with nervous energy, restlessly alternating which of the house’s four sides the three of them looked out from, sometimes discussing the ransom they’d demanded from Soujirou’s family and what their plans were once they’d received it, while the sun rose high enough to shine directly down through the broken roof. Soujirou grew very hot and uncomfortable in its glare, feeling as if he sat in the middle of a stone oven and unable to brush away the sweat that periodically ran down his face.
He wondered if his family would send the money these people wanted. His parents liked money — though not as much, he thought, as they liked having other people like them and do what they said — so he couldn’t be sure they would be willing to give up some money just to have him back.
He did do whatever they said, though. He studied his lessons and he practiced talking correctly to the other nobles he met in Elotica and he learned how to use a sword the way a prince should. Maybe they liked that enough. Maybe they would pay.
The woman didn’t say much — not even about where she would go once she had her share of the ransom — only stared out the window and held her bow at the ready. This was, at least, interesting to look at; nobody but hunters used bows that Soujirou knew of, and since you wouldn’t want to be like a low hunter living out in a forest, he’d never been allowed to try one. This woman appeared rough and poor just as he assumed a hunter would; maybe that was what she did — or had done — back in Ayundome. In any case, she now suddenly said, “Someone’s coming.”
“Alone?” Yaru demanded. “No, stay where you are and keep watching; ih could be a diversion.” And he too stayed where he was, looking out his own window.
“Yeh, alone,” the woman replied. “Ih’s one of their devoted — in red.”
“From which lady?” Lasuyo sounded mildly curious, but Soujirou was more so. He hoped it was Kaoru, his favorite. She didn’t have to do what anyone said.
“You know they call them differen names here,” replied the woman impatiently. “I don’ know how their sysem works.”
Yaru cut in just as impatiently. “Does ih look like they’re bringing the money?”
The woman was silent for a moment, still peering out a hole in the wall and gripping her bow. “No,” she finally said. “There should be a wheelbarrow or something…”
“Probably coming to try to negotiae,” Yaru muttered. “Red’s the lowes rank in their church, I think, so they won’ mind losing this fool as much.”
“Wan me to shoo?” The woman stood from her previous crouch, hugging the wall and peering even more intently through the hole as she reached for an arrow.
“Could still be a diversion,” Lasuyo said.
“Any movemen ou your side?” Yaru wondered, holding up a hand in the woman’s direction to stop her for now.
“Nothing.” Lasuyo scrambled over to just beside Soujirou and peered out from the one face of the house currently unguarded. “Nothing here either.”
“Don’ shoo yeh,” Yaru ordered. “We’ll leh them geh close enough to talk. We can raise the price if Gonamei’s being stupid about this.”
The span that followed seemed lengthy due to its tension and silence, but Soujirou didn’t know how many seconds or minutes actually passed. He couldn’t hear the footsteps of the approacher, who must still be too far away, but since the woman had no further comment as yet, the stranger must be continually drawing nearer.
Finally, “They’ve stopped,” she said. “Jus far enough away… I can’ make ou…” She was craning her neck as if that would help her see better.
“Warning shah,” Yaru commanded tersely.
“I only have so many arrows, you know,” the woman grumbled. But she started to nock one anyway.
At that moment, Yaru took such an abrupt step back from where he looked out his side of the house that he almost fell over the stones strewing the floor from the collapsed chimney. “Wa’er!” he gasped.
“Wha?” The other two started, and Lasuyo moved toward Yaru to see what in the world he meant. He didn’t even make it all the way across the room, though, before it became obvious on its own.
Yaru’s latest vantage point faced the river, the sound of which had been a constant, ignorable underscore to the entire scene. Now, somehow, the river seemed to have changed course, for the house suddenly began to flood. With impossible rapidity a huge and seemingly endless mass of clear water was rising over the feet and then up the legs of the shocked Ayundomeshou. Moreover, it didn’t rise evenly: though the floor was soon inches deep, most of the water bubbled up specifically around the adults in the room, enveloping them, its level lifting quickly above their shouting mouths and astonished eyes to form three bulging pillars, each with a person trapped inside.
The woman swept her bow out frantically as if she could pierce the seal over her, then dropped it and began waving her arms instead; Yaru made desperate swimming motions, trying to break free of his airless surroundings; Lasuyo staggered forward a step or two before buoyantly lifting off the ground — and in every case the water swelled out around them and even shifted in its entirety to accommodate their movements and ensure they were continually covered. It reminded Soujirou, watching in helpless horror, of the blue pillars proxy were supposed to have at their backs, but it was like a dreadful, unhappy version of that. Proxy didn’t kill, but this merciless water would. In fact Lasuyo, after releasing a distressingly large bubble from his mouth, had already stopped struggling.
More and more accumulated inside the enclosure of the ruined house’s lower walls, creeping up and joining the existing pillars, and, though it would probably run out under the door and through cracks between the stones, it wasn’t doing so as quickly as it entered. It had risen above Soujirou’s chest, and he could feel it teasing his chin no matter how he tilted his face upward. Below, wet and cold against the iron bar, his bound hands struggled in vain. At least he wasn’t completely coated as the adults were… but he soon would be, at this rate.
Rather than gushing and foaming, the water welled like a spring from somewhere underneath, expanding the three traps from within and remaining thereby smooth enough on its bulbous outer surfaces for the overhead sun to glitter and glare off of it like glass. As Soujirou looked helplessly around, from one deadly pillar to the second and the third, the brilliant spots of reflected sunlight burned his eyes until he could make out no further details; everything was a pandemonium of sparkling whiteness. He knew he should close his eyes, but he couldn’t. Stinging tears spilled over onto his face, further blurring the tableau, but despite his blindness he couldn’t bring himself to shut his lids and shut out the brightness. He didn’t want to die with his eyes closed.
He did squeeze his mouth tight when the water started to run into it, but still he stared — stared at the ascending doom he could barely make out until it covered his face and washed away the salt of sweat and the tears that had arisen in response to the sunlight glare. And still he stared, even when he realized he’d forgotten to take a deep breath while he’d had the chance, even though he distinguished nothing through the water and the bright spots burned into his eyes.
Then a note of red entered the chaos that was his vision, the water swished and churned before him, and he felt an adult’s arms to either side. The rope gave way, freeing him to struggle as he would. Just as he thought he must choke, that he couldn’t retain the breath in his body or keep from trying to draw another — especially with his limbs, prickling from inactivity, flying out every which way trying to propel him through the water that now stood far above his head — he was hauled up and out, into the free air, streaming and gasping and flailing.
He had the vague impression the flood was sinking all around him, that there were no Ayundomeshou left standing in the little ruined building. He knew he was lifted by and pulled against the red-clad stranger that had waded into the room to save him. But he could see nothing except the glare, could make out no details around him. And the stranger did not speak.
“Thank you,” he coughed at last.
“Always be polite,” his mother told him, practically every day. “People will like you better.”
“Thank you,” he managed again, more insistently this time, holding on for dear life around his rescuer’s neck with soaked, shivering arms.
But the devoted, who, though evidently weary in an aphysical way Soujirou could not quite describe and didn’t even know how he recognized, had turned and moved toward the exit just as if there weren’t three dead bodies lying in the fresh mud and scattered stones and draining water around them, just as if a spontaneous lake arising to kill a child’s captors and receding quietly as if on command was all in a day’s work, still said not a word.