Find me, p.2
Find Me, page 2
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to carry a sword,” she said.
“You think this doesn’t give it away?” He tapped the hilt. “I’ll find you a decent saya in Sunlit City, remind me.” He inspected the blade for a breath more, then slid it into the staff like sheath. “It doesn’t frost. Interesting,” he said.
“It’s been by the fire for a while,” Ayame insisted.
“I suppose,” he said, handing her back her staff and beginning to collect and put away his sword cleaning utensils.
Then he scanned the room with a sigh, frowning at his men. She took a gander at why he might be displeased and sought out his eyes—when they locked with hers, he wrinkled his nose. He acted like a youth sometimes, which made her smile. They hadn’t been together since they left Moonlight and it wasn’t only his patience that had depleted. Ayame pouted in return, got a crooked smile from her lord, and sighed as well. Curse the Ryu and their imperial summons. The weather was perfect to be indoors at Moonlight, alone with her lord at his quarters as the braziers burned in the corner and they shared the same breath back and forth.
“Your clan is stupid,” Ayame snapped when Sora tried sitting next to her with his bowl of soup. Then, she felt bad when his innocent eyes blinked, confused, and offered him mooncake from her satchel.
“Sister Misaki makes them the best,” Sora said, accepting the food.
Puff animated at the mention of cakes, and Ayame gave him one as well. Someone ordered wine and that brought Master Grey, his cup already at hand.
“Sparrow, Robin, first watch,” Wraith said and the respective bujins got up.
“I need Sparrow fresh. Sora, you go with Robin,” Lord Kyuzo said without looking at either. His attention was on thanking the old woman bringing them bottles of wine. “Don’t put my archers on shift when there’s nothing to see, Wraith. It strains their eyes.”
With Goodnight left at Moonlight, Sparrow was the next sharpest shooter, and gloating in the compliment from his lord, the scrawny bujin smugly sat back down.
Sora hesitated, shooting a look at Master Grey, who just shrugged.
“Come on, boy.” Robin tossed Sora’s gear at him, and the young lord grudgingly got up, putting on his many layers of robes as he followed Robin out of the barn.
After the duo stepped out into the howling wind and the door closed, Lord Kyuzo said to Wraith, “Don’t coddle him. He’s a man.”
“The weather is harsh, my lord,” Wraith said, settling across the fire from his lord and just now getting something to eat.
“I know,” was all Lord Kyuzo said.
They let Master Grey drink alone for some time, and seeing that he wasn’t poisoned, the rest joined, Jester pouring a cup for his lord. With Ring, Hare, Hiro, and Jay in separate barns manning the mounts, and with Sora and Robin on the thatched roof, or wherever bujins kept watch, it was Ayame, Master Grey, Lord Kyuzo, Wraith, Jester, Lightning, Sparrow, Badger, Sunny, Monarch, and Keelback in the barn. The merchants as well, but they’d grown as quiet as shadows.
After Goodnight, Jester was Ayame’s favorite bujin. He told foolish jokes, rubbing his bald head and smiling. He also hadn’t arrested Ayame when he found her at the Ishii shrine whilst Yohei was lord. She trusted him.
Lightning was named for his quick draw. He was the sword champion among the Ishii bujin and apparently a lightweight as well because he began slurring his words not too long after they started a drinking contest—a game of composing lines of poetry and passing the cup along, one trying to be wittier than the others.
Sparrow used to squabble with Goodnight about whose archery was better—it was Goodnight’s, hands down. But that wasn’t a great shame because Goodnight was extraordinary. Sparrow didn’t drink or play and shoved the wine cup when Monarch passed it to him.
“Why the sour mood, Sparrow-san?” Monarch spoke as if he was complaining, his tone nasal. He was the only bujin to keep his hair down all the time. Whereas everyone else tied it behind the head in a knot or a loop, Monarch simply tucked it behind the ears, even when the wind blew it about. Coincidentally, he had the most luxurious locks that flowed like a black silk scarf.
Sunny was a grumpy man who mostly grunted, and Ayame thought his name was her lord’s humor.
Badger had big round eyes, a small forehead, and round ears—he looked like a badger. Also, he was a tracker.
Keelback, however, didn’t resemble the snake, and Ayame assumed the name had to do with his sword art, which she was yet to see.
Wraith didn’t drink either, and he generally wasn’t a jolly fellow. If someone should be named after a serpent, it should be Wraith—he hissed and was venomous.
Sometime around midnight, the men’s wit deteriorated enough to be purchasing nonsensical rocks from Master Grey. Neither Ayame nor Lord Kyuzo had been drinking, and when he rose she looked up at him.
“Better go check on the others,” he said. “Would you like to accompany me?”
“Of course, my lord.” Ayame held out her hand, and he pulled her up.
No one minded their lord stepping out except for Wraith, and he came out after them, putting on his cloak and adjusting his sword through his sash.
As soon as they stepped out the wind screamed in the starless, moonless, dark void. There was no way of telling which way was what, and Ayame clung onto her lord, looping her arm through his.
“Go check on Sora,” Lord Kyuzo said, probably speaking to Wraith, whom Ayame couldn’t see.
She didn’t even hear his footsteps leaving, and had to yell, “Is he gone?” There was no chance of being heard over the wind past a couple of feet.
“Thank the deities, yes,” Lord Kyuzo spoke into her ear, his breath warm on her skin.
Squinting against the snow lashing horizontally, Ayame followed her lord blindly. Earlier the snow had been ankle deep, but it was now shin deep. Ayame was wondering how they were to ride through this weather when her lord turned, picked her up and pressed her back against a thing which she assumed was a thick tree.
His mouth was on the side of her neck, kissing as if he meant to consume her. He immediately went to the front of her robe, digging through the many layers and finding her legs bare underneath. The weather being so loud, Ayame’s voice didn’t carry as he entered her, and she cried out. His hand cupped the back of her neck as he rammed her against the tree, over and over. Her legs wrapped around his waist and it was no longer cold just then, and the snowflakes hissed into steam as they landed on her skin.
They went back to the barn to find Sora turned to a pile of quilts shivering by the fire. Wraith was gone, supposedly to take Sora’s shift, and the rest were drunk, mostly passed out and snoring on their mats except for Sparrow, who shot Ayame a look, then went back to minding his business and sharpening some arrowheads.
The old woman who’d been serving the guests had disappeared, probably to sleep, and Lord Kyuzo moved about getting water from the indoor well in the corner, putting a pot over the fire, and renewing the firewood. Ayame picked up Puff and moved away from the flames because he’d fallen asleep too close to it and was about to get his fur singed.
Lord Kyuzo gave Sora some dried fish from his saddlebag. He took out rations of pre-soaked rice that needed only to be dropped into some hot water and prepared a bowl of soup for Sora.
“Eat something hot and get some rest,” Lord Kyuzo said. “The wine may be gone, though.” He handed Ayame a bowl as well. “You too. Eat something.”
She was rather hungry, and seeing as how it had no seaweed, she gladly accepted it. Lord Kyuzo was strange like this. She noticed he cooked when he was on the road. Probably something he did regularly as the bujin weren’t astonished.
“Thank you, Honorable Father,” Sora said, receiving a pat on the head from his lord for braving it out in the weather for a few hours. If he was coddled, it wasn’t entirely his fault. Lord Kyuzo might tell his boy to ‘be a man’ but kept treating him as a child.
The bujin weren’t the only ones who had been drinking; the merchants had as well, and one of them boldly came up to Lord Kyuzo with his empty bowl. Kyuzo-dono spared him a ladle of soup, and the drunk didn’t understand the lord was being kind. Rather, he took it as that he must be someone low-ranking. The wine didn’t help either, and the toasty merchant decided he could speak to Kyuzo-dono.
“Where are you from?” the merchant asked.
Sparrow shot him a look and Sora frowned, but neither said anything.
“Go back to your friends. You’re drunk,” Lord Kyuzo said. He’d tasked himself with cleaning some bowls and stacking them, which further lowered him in the eyes of the merchant. For one, he was squatted while the merchant towered over him.
“Say, Priestess, do you travel with men often?”
Lord Kyuzo rose, and the man took a step back.
“Just asking.” He smiled. “Not looking for a fight.”
“There won’t be a fight. Go back to your friends.” The lord casually rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Leaning forward, as if he meant to share a secret with the drunk, he said, “Piss off.”
Instead of the drunk leaving, his friends, a group of six, came over. The others stayed in the corner, spectating as if at the theater.
The bujin, who had been drunk and snoring a moment ago, all rose at once. In a single beat, everyone except for Master Grey and Ayame were on their feet, even Sora. That made the friends disappear, and the merchant was left alone.
Jester walked around the man and came up behind him, draping his arm around him. “Say, what did a death god say to a merchant?”
They all glared at the poor man, waiting for him to actually answer. He visibly withered, and tried to slither away, but Jester’s grip locked on his nape and he shook him as he asked again, “What did a death god say to a merchant?”
“I, I,” stuttered the man. “I don’t know, good Sir.”
“Bargain for your afterlife,” said Jester, and the color drained from the merchant’s face.
“See, Merchant-san? Now you’re all sober. What a waste of good wine that was,” Monarch tutted.
“I’m sorry,” the merchant said, and he was. When Jester let go of his neck, he dropped to his knees and bowed with his forehead to the ground.
He left his bowl of soup, ran away, and disappeared into the dark corner. Turned out, that was a waste of everyone’s wine as the bujin were sober as well, but that didn’t last long. Keelback produced a waterskin from his saddlebag, which turned out to be wine. Then the others followed suit, bringing out their smuggled sake. From their estimation, if the weather cleared they were no more than ten days’ ride from Sunlit City, which apparently had a famous teahouse district that served women and wine, but rarely any tea.
As dawn broke the shifts changed, and the drinking continued as it was clear the weather wouldn’t improve, but by then the old woman reappeared to sell her homebrewed sake. A smile on her face, a few teeth missing, she became far more giving as the bujin settled their last night’s tally, and precious items such as bean curds floated freely in their morning soup.
The men chattered. Ayame fell asleep with her head on her lord’s lap. It wasn’t a great secret that she cared for him.
three
Loss of Three
Two days after they arrived at the guest house, the weather had calmed enough for them to be saddling up. It was early morning and the sun reflecting off the snow made the earth blinding white.
No wind, not even a gentle breeze, and Ayame cupped her hand over her eyes and squinted up at the cloudless sky. It was going to be straining for the eyes to ride through the glittering terrain. There were some trees to the north, one of which the lord had slammed Ayame against, but in the direction they were headed, southwest, it looked as bald as Jester’s head. Such hills didn’t exist in the north. It was a testament to how they’d crossed over not only imaginary lines drawn by warlords, but also nature’s borders.
A sharp whistle from Sparrow drew all attention. He nodded to the west, and after a moment a dark patch came up on the snow—a group of riders.
They weren’t done loading their horses, and they weren’t running from a small group of men either, so Lord Kyuzo continued as he was, saddling Ayame’s horse after his. Ayame picked up Puff and put him in her saddle basket. He yawned, then began dozing off. He didn’t care about the riders either, but Sparrow and a few others had climbed the rooftops with their bows in their hands.
The riders were bujin, clan unknown for they didn’t carry a banner, but probably Hashimoto seeing as how these were their lands. Wraith and Sora mounted to ride up to them. Because of the serene weather, their voices could be clearly heard.
Wraith introduced them as Ishii and explained how they were on their way to Sunlit City on imperial summons.
“Ah, yeah, heard the lords are gathering there,” said one of the bujin, his eyes on the archers on the rooftops. “You’re Lord Sora?” he asked, reading the imperial scroll Wraith handed him. “Do you know your way, or do you need an escort?” He returned the scroll and bowed to Sora.
Sora nodded in return.
“We can manage,” Wraith said.
The Ishii bujin wouldn’t mount because Lord Kyuzo was still on his feet as they couldn’t be higher than him, but everyone tensed as one of the Hashimoto riders broke from the group and rode toward the Ishii.
He circled around, his eyes wandering across men’s faces. Ayame saw him take a double look at Lord Kyuzo. He knows, she thought. It was her lord’s eyes. They were as bright as orange quartz against all the white. One didn’t need to have seen the lord to identify him. They only needed to know of his unusual eyes, which she wagered were as famous as his red armor.
The Hashimoto saw them off, bidding a friendly “Journey safe,” but Ayame suspected they were waiting to question the merchants as soon as the Ishii left.
Over the hill, Ayame caught up to Wraith, who was riding alongside Sora. “They must know Kyuzo-dono is with us,” she said.
“Clearly,” was Wraith’s answer.
“Is that a problem?” she asked.
“We shall see.”
Ayame didn’t know why she’d bothered. Wraith was always like this. But if push came to shove, she trusted him with her lord’s life. He was the most capable. Even Goodnight used to say that Wraith was better than him. There was one problem though—Sora. His lover or his lord, Ayame didn’t know who Wraith would prioritize should they come under attack.
She fell back to ride with Master Grey. Now that the weather had cleared, it was rude for her to ride alongside the lord.
Master Grey was humming some song he probably made up, and flashed a smile as Ayame came up next to him. The snow crunched under the horses’ hooves, and metal on the riding gear jingled. She could even taste it in the air. No sound louder than the horses' breathing, it was as if they were riding through dead lands.
“Tell me about Sunlit City,” she said.
“No idea. We shall discover it together, my young apprentice.” He called her that as if he taught her anything.
“Why did you come along, anyway?” she asked.
“Who? Me?” Master Grey twisted on his saddle, looking around like a fool. “For the teahouse alley, of course.”
Although Ayame wouldn’t put it past him, she didn’t think that was wholly true. “You’re concerned about Sora’s fate, aren’t you?” She narrowed her eyes at the old master.
“Mayhaps.” He stroked his long white beard. “I had a dream that my Sora became the emperor. That is his fate, should no one interfere. This old fool has quite the clairvoyance, from time to time.”
“From time to time,” Ayame repeated. “Meaning, you’re wrong half the time?”
“Yes, and correct the other half.”
Ayame shook her head, nearly rolling her eyes at her master. “What happens to Blue Dragon that makes Sora the emperor?”
“He dies, of course.”
“What about the other princes? Aren’t there three of them, including the infamous Hissing Blade?”
“That’s the interference, you see?” Master Grey tapped his temple.
You’re a fool, Ayame thought, but she couldn’t shake off the bad feeling. Yohei and Naomi had been planning on setting up Sora to have his pardon revoked by the Imperial Court. Had their treacherous letter reached the capital? Was Sora being summoned to his trial? She hadn’t voiced her concern to her lord because if the journey became more perilous than it already was, he might send her back. But he had to know, didn’t he?
Maybe not…
Ayame rode back up to Wraith and whispered her concern to him instead.
“I know,” he said.
“Does Lord Kyuzo?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“He’s not worried? You’re not worried?” Ayame demanded.
“It’s not that, Ayame.” Wraith sighed, exasperated. “If Sora’s pardon was being brought up, the emperor would have let my lord know. Their relationship is cordial, and the emperor needs the Ishii. We are his war house, after all. So as long as Lord Kyuzo lives, Blue Dragon won’t ruffle unnecessary feathers over the fate of a single man.”
“You’ve been to Sunlit City?” Ayame asked.
“So I have.”
“You’ve met the emperor?”
“So I have. I journeyed with my lord the last time when he went to collect Sora.” He shot a look at Sora with that, and Sora avoided his eyes. “And when my lord went to demand for Lady Tamaki.”
“Kyuzo-dono’s sister?” Ayame frowned. “How old are you?”
Sora would have been eight at the time, and Wraith not eight. Oh, there would be more to Kyuzo-dono disapproving the nature of their relationship should he find out. He was the only one who didn’t know. Perhaps he thought Wraith was mentoring Sora. Ayame cleared her throat.
“None of your business, Priestess,” Wraith said.
“Did you know Lady Tamaki?” Ayame asked and Wraith gave her a death glare. That would make him a grown man before Sora was born.
“I’m not that old.”
