Beneath an opal moon, p.15
Beneath an Opal Moon, page 15
part #4 of Sunset Warrior Cycle Series
“No doubt,” Moichi said with a wry twist of his lips. “But not, I trust, in ours.”
The buildings around the Plaza de la Pesquisa were a good deal larger and more ornate than most they had seen on their way through the city and this oversize effect gave to the plaza a rather austere grandeur that was singular in Corruna.
There were benches of scrolled wrought iron scattered at different points around the copse. On one, two old men, small
and with sun-dried skin like leather, sat smoking pipes and chatting idly in the shade. They were both dressed in pure white linen suits, as elegant and neat as if they were on parade. This color, Moichi knew, was reserved here for the elderly.
“Perdoname, senhores. Don’ estd la casa de la Senhora Seguillas y Oriwara?”
They both looked up, ceasing their low chatter, staring at him from head to foot. They gazed at Chiisai for a time before returning their attention to him. One of the men pointed a bony finger at Moichi, said something to his companion in Daluzan dialect so rapidly that Moichi failed to understand it. The other man laughed shortly, not unkindly, cocked his head, his seablue eyes on Moichi.
The old man who still pointed at Moichi said, “You are not Daluzan. Not of the blood.” He tapped the side of his nose with a finger. “I can tell.” He smiled enigmatically. His square teeth were stained yellow by smoke. “But you could pass, I warrant, in a pinch. I’ll just bet you could, yes.” He stretched backward, pointed over his shoulder. “There lies the house you seek. On the far side of the plaza.” He smiled again. “Is it not always so, in life?” His companion nodded sagely at his side, though he had been addressing Moichi. “Good day to you, senhor. Senhora. Good luck.”
Moichi nodded, murmuring his farewells, and, with Chiisai went out from the edge of the copse, across the sunsplashed plaza, past the rustling olive trees, the buzzing cicadas, the small black-winged birds flitting from tree to tree, leaving the figure of the fountain behind.
Moichi wore a seagreen silk shirt with wide sleeves and tight cobalt-blue trousers which he had tucked into his high brown sea boots. His sword hung, scabbarded, at his side and the twin copper-hilled dirks were thrust casually into his wide leather belt.
Chiisai still wore her armor breastplate but had changed into tight pants the color of palest sea foam, also tucked into her high boots. Over her armor she wore her Sha’angh’sei quilted jacket. Her twin scabbarded swords were clearly visible.
The Seguillas y Oriwara house was an enormous whitefacaded twostory structure on the north side of the plaza. Its left side abutted another building but, on its right, a street led off the plaza. Lush trees lined this thoroughfare and what portions of the house Moichi could make out behind this verdant
screen were covered in ivy, reaching around along the upper story on the front of the house.
One was obliged to approach the copper-and-hardwood staircase facing left, for it curved out and around as gracefully as a swan’s neck as it ascended toward the high double doors at the front of the dwelling. These were wood-paneled, banded with bronze strips which, Moichi was certain, had at one time found service on an oceangoing schooner, for time and the minerals of the sea had combined to give them a greenish patina.
They went up the staircase and Moichi knocked on the doors. The small wrought-iron balconies projecting from the upper floor windows in front contrived to put them in an obliquely banded light.
The doors swung ponderously inward.
Two short, dark-haired Daluzans in black cotton one-piece suits held the doors but the man who confronted them was not Daluzan at all. He was tall, towering even over Moichi, dwarfing Chiisai. He was too thin for his height; this was one’s immediate impression. His gaunt face was hairless except for a thin black mustache which drooped forlornly on either side of his mouth. His dark eyes were almondshaped and his skin had a yellow cast. The vault of his domed head soared upward above his narrow-bridged nose.
This man is from Sha’angh’sei, Moichi thought.
“Yes?” the man said in perfect Daluzan. “What is it you wish?”
Not the most cordial of welcomes, Moichi thought. The man wore a Daluzan suit in light yellow which consisted of highwaisted trousers and loose-fitting shirt tied about the waist with a narrow braided cord sash. If he was anned, he concealed it well.
“We wish to speak to the Senhora Seguillas y Oriwara,” Moichi said.
“I am afraid that will be quite impossible, senhor. The Senhora is entertaining no visitors. “
“Nevertheless, I believe the Senhora will wish to see us. We have come to Corona aboard one of her own lorchas and bring news of her daughter.”
Something glittered far back in the man’s eyes and he inclined his head. “Follow me, please, I will inform the Senhora.”
The doors were closed behind them as they went down a
short vestibule and, passing through an arch of stained glass, entered into the main hall of the house. This was two stories high and was domed, almost cathedral-like, paneled in pecan wood and hung at regular intervals with small tapestries depicting scenes of the sea and its denizens; sea lions, porpoises, whales sounding. At the end of the hallway a most singular stairway wound upward. It appeared at this distance to be carved out of an enormous ship’s figurehead, a maiden of the sea, long tangled hair blown back by the wind.
On either side of the hallway, rolling doors stood closed. As they passed the first one on the right, Moichi saw it slide open for just a moment and glimpsed within the shadows beyond dark flashing eyes in a young female face.
The man with the drooping mustache led them through a rolling door further along on the left and into a drawing room. Then, bidding them wait, he left them.
Here the plaster walls were painted green, as dark as the depths of the ocean, and were hung with paintings whose subject matter was invariably religious in nature.
“The Daluzans must have a very different feeling about religion, ” Chiisai said, pacing from painting to painting. “How depressing. Is there no happiness associated with their gods?”
“They believe in the One God, Chiisai,” Moichi said. “As do my folk.”
“As yet, the kami are unknown to these people.”
“Kami.”
“Um-hum. The minor gods whose task it is to guide the souls of the dead back into their new lives.”
Moichi realized he knew very little of Bujun religious thought.
“We see existence as an enormous wheel; life is merely one part of it.” She was at the last painting now and she paused. “Death, we believe, brings an end to the corporeal only. The spirit lives on and is returned to life guided by the kami and the individual’s karma. That is most important.”
She was interrupted by the sound of the door sliding back. They both turned. Framed in the doorway was the figure of a statuesque woman. Her hair was long, framing her oval face, and it was, startlingly, of the color and luster of silver. She had the kind of face which would shine through all around her no matter the circumstances. Moichi could feel her intense aura all the way across the room and was reminded piercingly of
Aufeya. She wore a silk suit of deep green which perfectly matched her large, inquisitive eyes.
“I am the Senhora Seguillas y Oriwara,” she said in a voice like an ice floe. “May I know why you have come here?”
Somehow Moichi was not surprised by this abrupt and decidedly inhospitable greeting. The Daluzans were quite schizophrenic in this regard. They were fiercely polite, even to the point of exasperation. But on the other hand they could as easily be disconcertingly blunt when they so chose.
“My apologies for disturbing you, senhora,” Moichi said, inclining his head slightly. He used the polite grammatical construction. “I am Moichi AnnaiNin of Iskael and my companion is Chiisai of Ama-no-mori.” He paused, hoping for a reaction. He got one.
The Senhora’s eyes widened a fraction and she stepped into the room. The mustachioed man stood just outside the room’s threshold as still as a statue.
“An Iskamen and a Bujun,” the Senhora said. With some of the chill gone from her voice, Moichi could hear its true melodiousness. ”An odd pair, to say the least.” She indicated the man behind her. “Chimmoku tells me you claim to have sailed here aboard one of my lorchas. Which one?”
“The Chocante,” Moichi said. “Armazon is the bostun.”
“I see.” The Senhora glanced back at Chimmoku for a moment, her hands clasped against her long thighs. “I did not even know that particular craft had left Corruna.”
“Senhora, your daughter commandeered the Chocante.”
“Indeed.” The eyes flashed briefly. “And where was she headed, Moichi AnnaiNin?”
“That I do not know. I came across her in Sha’angh’sei.” No point in telling her about the Sharida. “She told me she had been blown off course by a storm. That she had not meant to come to Sha’angh’sei.” He took a deep breath. Now for the difficult part. “She also told me that she was being pursued by a man.” He paused again, expecting an outburst. But the Senhora stood calmly before him, her expression unchanged.
“Tell me, Moichi AnnaiNin,” the Senhora said slowly, “why have you come here?”
“Your daughter has been abducted,” Moichi said.
The Senhora turned and glanced at Chimmoku again before addressing Moichi. “I am afraid dhere has been some mistake.”
“Pardon me for saying so, senhora, but no mistake has been made. A man named Hellsturm “
“Yes, you know him then?”
“What? No. No, I know no such person. The name seemed odd to me, that is all.”
“This man Hellsturm snatched Aufeya “
The Senhora drew herself up, her eyes imperiously cold. “What is it you want from me, senhor. Money? Ships? You have made a grave error. You will get nothing from me. Now if you will “
“Senhora!” He felt as if reality were slipping through his fingers, dreamlike. “Perhaps my knowledge of Daluzan is inadequate. Shall I repeat myself? Your “
“Yes, I know. My daughter has been abducted by a man with an odd name. Quite a fanciful story a mer-man’s tale, in Daluzan idiom.”
“My friend was murdered by this man Hellsturm. He gave his life to protect Aufeya.”
“I am sorry about your friend, Moichi AnnaiNin. Truly I am. But, you see, this has no interest for me.” The Senhora nodded in dismissal. “I have no daughter.” At last her hands unclasped. “Now good day to you both. Chimmoku will see you out.” With that, she turned and left them there.
Outside, they stood at the edge of the plaza for a moment. The Seguillas y Oriwara house towered over them, mute and mysterious.
They went toward the copse of olive trees, sat down on a bench near the fountain. The old men were gone but the blackbirds had not abandoned their arboreal world. Oblique light found its way into the plaza between the gaps of the surrounding buildings and the tops of the trees were aflame with the light of sunset.
“Were you able to understand what was said in there?” Moichi said.
Chiisai nodded. “Pretty much. I’m excellent in linguistics.” She changed into Daluzan to illustrate. “Why do you think the Senhora was Iying to us?”
Moichi raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Well, I see you are a fast learner.”
She laughed. “I had Rohia teach me in the evening when he was off watch.”
“Very clever of you.” His smile faded as he recalled the
recent scene inside the Seguillas y Oriwara house. “Something is very amiss.”
“I’ll say. The Senhora’s daughter leaves Corruna secretly, is threatened by a strange man, is finally captured by him, and the Senhora’s only reaction is to deny Aufeya’s existence. It makes no sense.”
“Not yet it doesn’t. But at least we have a starting point.”
“You mean the Senhora?”
“That is exactly what I mean.”
“But she will tell us nothing.”
“Then we shall just have to find a way of making her talk, won’t we?”
“On the other hand, if Rohja successfully finds out about where that other ship docked, we might not need the Senhora’s help at all,” Chiisai pointed out.
Moichi was about to tell her that life never seemed to be that simple when he heard a hissing sound from within the shadows of the dense foliage and he turned, one hand on the hilt of his sword. lust above and to one side of the fountain, he saw the vague outline of a human head. He and Chiisai rose and went closer, standing beside the fountain. He saw the face clearly then and recognised those eyes as the ones regarding him from behind the sliding door in the Seguillas y Oriwara house.
“Senhor,” she breathed, and he nodded. “I could not help but overhear what you told Chimmoku. Do you know what has happened to Auteya?”
“As I told the Senhora,” Moichi said. “She has been am ducted.”
“Oh, Dihos!” The young woman’s cry was choked off as she brought her hands across her mouth.
“What do you know of this?” Moichi demanded. The woman seemed to shrink back into the shadows, murmuring.
“Let me try,” Chiisai whispered to him and then, to the woman, “What is your name, senhora?”
“Tola, senhora. I am Aufeya’s doncella.”
Chiisai turned her head. “Maid,” Moichi whispered.
“I am Chiisai,” she said. “And this is Moichi. We are friends of Aufeya.” She pointed for emphasis. “Moichi saved her life in Sha’angh’sei.”
Tola stared from Chiisai to Moichi. “Is this so?”
Moichi nodded.
“How how does she look?” Tola asked.
Both Chiisai and Moichi looked bewildered. “She was fine,” Moichi said. “But you must have seen her before she left.”
“Yes.” Now it was Tola’s turn to look puzzled. ”But that was many seasons ago. No one here has seen her since she she left with the Tudescan.”
“Who was that?” Chiisai asked. “What was his name?”
“Why, Hellsturm, of course.” She wrung her hands. ”Oh, I knew that was an illomened day.”
Chiisai leaned forward, touched the doncella. “Are you certain, Tola? Aufeya left Corruna with this man Hellsturrn.”
“Ay, yes, senhora. How could I forget? That day the Senhora told all of us, ‘As far as this house is concemed, my daughter is dead.’ “
“What do you mean?” Chiisai asked.
“Dihos! I have been gone too long. Perdoname, I must go.”
“Wait!” Chiisai cried. But Tola was gone, darting into the trees and out the other side, using the shadows of the building to reach the far side of the plaza.
They found a smoky taverna of white adobe and blackened wood in between a barber shop and a building that was obviously a communal medical clinic; there was a long queue passing through the wide-open doors and out into the street. Inside, they could make out the shapes of several prone figures and smell the scent of various herbal-based medicaments.
The taverna was not as crowded as those in Sha’angh’sei. It was painted a brilliant white, its low ceiling banded by thick beams. One wall was taken up by an enormous stone hearth whose function was obviously ornamental, for the kitchen could be seen behind a wooden copper-topped counter.
They found an empty table. The only people near them were a pair of cures Daluzan priests garbed in the traditional black dresses and stiff square hats. One was quite young with rosy cheeks and a thick bulbous nose. The other, obviously older, with salt-and-pepper hair and a spade-shaped beard, was a cure of no little rank, Moichi observed, for around his neck swung the gold chain and heavy double-cross pendant, symbol of the Daluzan church
As they sat down, a stunning waitress brought them a pot of compana, the very fine local wine, golden in colon Moichi ordered for them while the woman poured the wine.
“Is it not interesting,” Chiisai said, after she had sipped at
the cup, “that now the matter of Auteya has been somewhat clarified and also made more complex?”
“Yes. We now know why the Senhora disavowed her to
us.”
“At least it was not a lie.”
“In that sense, no. But, on the other hand, she made no attempt to aid us and I find that curious. After all, Auteya is her daughter. Would she really prefer to see her dead rather than lift a hand to aid her?”
Chiisai shrugged. “We could debate that point all night and not reach a satisfactory conclusion.”
Moichi grinned at her as the food arrived. “You have a way of cutting right to the heart of the matter, Chiisai. I like that. Now this is what I propose. When we leave here, I will return to the Seguillas y Oriwara to find out what I can. As for you, there is yet another avenue that needs exploration. Cascaras the Daluzan Hellsturm tortured, is from here also. Aufeya told me that he was once a trader of sorts. I would like you to follow that up.”
“But where shall I begin? I hardly know enough of Corrufia yet. “
“There is a place in the centerof the city, the mercado. It is a meeting place for the merchants and traders, not only of Corrufia but of all Dalucia. I would suggest you start there. Perhaps someone knows where in Kintai he journeyed.”
“Hmph,” Chiisai exclaimed with mock hurt. “You just don’t want me around when you interview the Senhora.”
“Whatever gave you such an extraordinary idea?”
“I saw the way you looked at her.”
“I didn’t look at her in any special way,” he lied.
“I was joking, actually.” She smiled archly. “But now I wonder you’ve protested so vehemently.”
“On another subject,” Moichi said pointedly, “I want both of us there when we rendezvous with Robja. So meet me at the top of Calle Cordel just before midnight.”
She nodded and began to eat.
As their conversation sputtered to a halt, Moichi was able to pick up some of what transpired between the two cures at the next table.
” the money goes, Don Gode?” said the cure with the spade-shaped beard. “The entire western facade of the iglesia must be dismantled so that it can be enlarged. Do you suppose
