War priest the complete.., p.73
War Priest: The Complete Series, page 73
“You have returned,” said the itako, who had been standing in a corner of the room grinding something out in a stone bowl. She stopped what she was doing and glided over to a wooden block in the center of the room. Next to the block was a cushion with a headpiece on it, one with small antlers attached. The itako swept her hair back, revealing a face that had been painted white with red lines, and put the antlered headpiece on. “Remove your weapons and set them on the ground over there,” she said, pointing a finger with several rings on it at a space near the door. “Cover them with the red carpet. They have no place here.”
Arik reached under his robes to retrieve the Whispering Sword, which meant he also had to deal with the sanjaku cloth that had tied the scabbard to his pant leg. He set it on the ground, and figuring that the itako could probably sense it, he set the Mask of the Fallen next to it.
“Good,” the itako said as Tayaura retrieved the small red carpet leaning against the wall. She unrolled it and covered their weapons.
“Kunai as well,” said the itako.
Tayaura placed her throwing knives on the ground, including the crystal kunai that her father had given her. Arik removed his pouch of caltrops and put them under the carpet as well. He returned to the itako and took a seat in front of her, Tayaura next to him.
“Kami,” the woman said.
“Meosa is the name.”
“Where is the master illusionist?” The young woman’s face twitched as a sense of sadness came over her. Her eyes rolled back and then settled. “He left for the province, didn’t he?”
“The province?” Arik asked.
“Where all illusionists go when they leave this world,” she said. “At least the good ones.” Arik could have sworn Tayaura was about to say something under her breath when the itako continued: “And you are his blood relative, his child. You were not with him last time.”
“No, I wasn’t,” said Tayaura.
“Very well. I suppose we should address why you came here. State the purpose of your visit.”
“I believe that my father may have left an imprint. I don’t normally…” Tayaura lowered her head. “I don’t normally seek the guidance of an itako. I want you to know that.”
“I understand.”
“But the disciple here seems to think that you may know where my father’s imprint is, or if he left one in the first place.”
The itako grew serious as she looked down at her hands. She traced a finger along her right palm as she considered what Tayaura had said. “A Chimauric imprint is no easy task. Do you have something of his, something that belonged to him?”
Arik touched the back of his shoulder. “I have his hat.”
“We have some of his weapons over there,” Tayaura added.
“We also have his body,” Meosa told the shamanic woman. “Not with us, of course, but back where we are staying.”
She turned to the kami with a hint of surprise. “His body is here in Moonagwa?”
Arik nodded.
“And how many days has he been gone from his human shell?”
“Human shell?” Meosa grumbled.
“Just a few,” Tayaura told her. “We had to travel with it from Iga. There were complications.”
“And you intend to do what with it here?”
Arik answered: “We plan to honor Hojo by putting his body in the empty tomb where we found the Whispering Sword.”
“I see.” The itako was quiet for a spell as she continued to run her finger over her palm. Finally, she looked up at the pair of them and spoke: “And you think this is an appropriate place for the master illusionist?”
“The tomb was empty, aside from the Whispering Sword.”
“And how do you know that the sword doesn’t belong there?”
“Because it belongs with me,” Arik said. “For now, anyway.”
The itako moved on. “You are fond of the master illusionist, that is clear. As for the item I need, yes, his hat will do. Best we not invite weapons to this ritual. I will take the hat now.”
“Just give me a moment.” Arik removed his haori cape and the conical hat that he was using to create a hump. He handed the hat to the itako, who placed it on her knee.
“Better. I suppose we can begin. What did you bring me as an offering? It is best to be blunt about these things.”
“What is it you would like? We have money.” Arik still had quite a bit of Jadean sen from his exploits alongside Meosa in Iga, while they had been waiting for Tayaura and her father to infiltrate the encampment.
“Have you been to Mount Osore?”
“I have.”
This was where Arik had obtained the Mask of the Fallen, which was an experience that he still couldn’t quite explain that involved astral projection of his body. It was during this experience that he had first seen the signs of Hojo cracking, the weight of Chimaura doing a number on the Hidden Warrior.
“Then you understand the surroundings there. Good to know.” The itako produced a thin knife, shaped almost like a feather. She was just about to cut herself when Arik stopped her.
“What is this in exchange for?” he asked. “You never answered me.”
“We can tally that up when we finish. Now, if you don’t mind, disciple, I will draw blood. If you want to be of use, fetch me the white saucer on the desk I was standing at earlier, the one made of kayno bone. And do not worry, you can heal me after. It is quite an interesting feeling, you know, your Revivaura. It is like placing an injured hand into a pool of water, yet your skin is never wet, and the hand is suddenly healed when you remove it.”
Arik didn’t acknowledge this as he moved over to the desk she had been standing at earlier. He found the saucer, which indeed was made of bone, its surface brittle. He brought it to the itako and took his seat again. Tayaura now had her head bowed forward. He still got the sense that she didn’t trust the itako, yet the itako had already proven that she knew more than she was letting on.
After saying a few words under her breath, the itako drew blood. The woman held her wrist over the bone saucer. Her blood dripped slowly, Arik having to fight the urge to do something about it. Even with everything that had changed about his perspective, and how much he had grown, seeing blood still triggered something instinctual in him. Yet he suppressed the urge to do anything as he remained seated.
As the itako ran a finger along the brim of Hojo’s conical hat, she dripped more of the blood onto the saucer. This time, instead of giving in to the tension that he felt, Arik focused on the space around the woman. There had been a subtle change. He couldn’t quite make it out, yet if he stared beyond her, just over the antlers that she wore, there was a hint of something, a spectral energy that Arik was never able to grasp. Every time he tried to focus on it the energy fizzled out. Yet if he simply relaxed, and took in everything without trying too hard, he noticed it. It wasn’t like the watery texture of Revivaura, nor the misty nature of Chimaura. It certainly wasn’t Thunderaura, the chi electrically charged.
It was Yokaura, Arik was certain.
The itako bent forward, close enough to the saucer that her nose nearly touched the surface of the blood. Her antlers shifted forward, yet they never fell off her head as she gazed into her own eyes and the blood’s dark reflection.
The itako finally sat up. “Minami… Ocean retreat… Dusk.” She blinked a few times, and as she did she tilted her chin to Tayaura. “Lighthouse. Dusk lighthouse. Does that mean something to you?” she asked, her voice suddenly weak. The woman continued to run a finger along the brim of Hojo’s conical hat. “Minami, ocean retreat, dusk, lighthouse.”
Arik looked at Tayaura just in time to catch a tear running down her cheek. It stayed there as she gradually nodded her head. “I understand.”
“Good. Disciple, please heal me. Then we can discuss my payment and the master illusionist’s burial.”
****
After she was healed and her shamanic equipment was cleaned and put away, the itako brewed a tea made of pungent herbs and roots. It had the aftertaste of cinnamon, the liquid giving Arik a funny feeling in his stomach as soon as he finished his cup. He relaxed even further onto the cushion that he was seated on, the disciple’s shoulder slouching.
“Good, isn’t it?” the woman asked.
Tayaura, who had barely drunk any of her tea, spoke to Arik under her breath. “Don’t drink any more.”
“It isn’t poison, illusionist. What good would it do me if the two of you were poisoned?” asked the itako. “I would still be stuck with a vengeful kami, and by the time the two of you woke, two trained combatants.”
Meosa laughed. “Who said I was vengeful?”
“If I did something to your companions, you would be vengeful, would you not?”
“I suppose.”
The itako turned to Tayaura. “I saw you place a unique kunai under the weapon rug, one made of crystal. Will you tell me about that object?”
“My father gave it to me. I’m not able to trade it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not asking that.”
Meosa chimed in: “The kunai was made by Sukitoma, yes, the same kami that resides in the Crystal Castle. He is a very good friend of mine.”
“Is he now?” asked the itako.
“He sure is. We go way back, hundreds of years, in fact. He’s a good fellow, Sukitoma.”
The itako set her cup of tea down. “You asked about payment, and I am ready to tally up your bill. For payment, I would like you to visit Sukitoma and have him make something for another itako I know, one that practices near Mount Osore. I believe you may have already encountered her, disciple,” she told Arik.
A memory flashed across Arik’s mind, one of an itako who had helped him acquire the Mask of the Fallen. “I don’t know her name. Older woman, right?”
“Right, one who lives there full-time unlike many of the itako who visit during the ritual season. And you wouldn’t know her name. We itako give up our names when we take this role. Mount Osore is, after all, on the way to Minami, if you take the Runesung Passage near the Onyx border. If you were perhaps traveling south afterward, it would also be on the way to Avarga.” The itako’s eyes dropped to the penknife she had used to draw blood. “This is what I would like to have made for her.”
Meosa let out a sigh of relief. “For a moment there, I thought you were referring to the teacup.”
“Yes, she would like that as well. Have your dear kami friend make a tea set for her and a knife like this. Would you like to take one of my penknives to use as an example? I have a few old ones that I no longer use.”
“Wait. You seriously expect us to travel across the Runesung Passage with a crystal tea set? Bah! We have enough baggage to deal with,” Meosa said, Arik sensing that he was arguing just for argument’s sake. There was no telling what the itako would have requested had it not been for his mention of Sukitoma, a point that Meosa surely sensed as he continued: “And Sukitoma doesn’t just sit around making objects out of crystal—”
“It was fairly easy for him to make the kunai, if I recall,” Arik said.
Meosa’s water form flared up as if he were about to scold the disciple.
“—We can get the penknife for your teacher, as well as the tea set,” Tayaura said, “as payment for helping us.”
“Sukitoma may be busy.”
“How would he be busy?” Arik asked Meosa. “He sits in his castle all day getting annoyed at people coming to stare at his home.”
“He does other things too, you know.”
“Like what?”
“Like what? Like…” Meosa disappeared into a vapor, an indication that he was done with this conversation. “We will just have to see what he says. I shouldn’t speak for him.”
Tayaura didn’t seem too concerned about the cantankerous kami as she shifted her focus to the itako. “You mentioned something about my father’s burial. What about it? Why does this concern you?”
“There were no last rites performed for him as is custom with the former instructors of the School of Illusion, especially one that is a Hidden Warrior.” The itako bowed her head in reverence. “It is the right thing to do. I will consult some of my sisters, and have an answer for you later.”
“You have siblings?” Arik wondered for a moment if he should ask her something about his own sister, if the itako would be able to advise him in some regard.
“No, I do not, not blood-related, anyway. One way we itako better understand our world and its limitations is through ritual conversation with itako of the past, our sisters. The language they speak is sometimes different from ours, and some require a medium to translate it for them.” Her eyes drifted up to the talisman hanging from the rafters. “Yet I was introduced to one when I took this place. I am assuming that you will want to do this at night considering you are traveling with a dead body.”
“That would probably be for the best,” Arik told her.
“In that case, meet me here at dusk. I will handle the ritual, and you can leave for the Crystal Lake afterward, Minami and Mount Osore from there.”
Arik exchanged glances with Tayaura, the disciple making certain that this was what she wanted.
“We will be here at that time,” the illusionist told the itako.
.Chapter Six.
“Water can quench your thirst as easily as it can drown you.”
–Master Nongrat Eldegai in his book A Healing Mind, Third Edition, Ezochi Revivaura Books, Year 1336, Page 116.
Over the course of the day, Tayaura was able to use her illusionist manipulations to get a cart that was long enough to entirely contain Hojo’s body. There would be no floating the Hidden Warrior out of Moonagwa while disguising themselves as onryo this time. To make sure that it didn’t appear as if they were simply carting a body out, the pair used some of the money that Arik had won back in Iga to purchase a bale of straw to cover the body, Tayaura assuring the disciple several times it would work.
By the time they checked out of the basement room at the tavern and returned to the itako, the sun was beginning to set, the day’s heat starting to wane. Two men stood outside the itako’s place, which initially filled Arik with concern. They were both large, the pair in dusty gray tunics with patches on their knees. Their hair, which was long on the top and shaved on the sides, was done in a similar way that made them look like they could be brothers.
“Are you here for the itako?” the man on the left asked, not at all fazed to see Arik pushing a long, rectangular cart of hay.
Cautious as ever, Tayaura merely nodded.
“Wait here.” The man knocked on the door, and it wasn’t long before the itako stepped out, now draped in a white shroud with jewels stitched onto it. She wore a veil, and before her bare feet could touch the ground, one of the men lifted the itako into his arms.
“We were trying not to draw attention to ourselves,” Tayaura told the shaman. The illusionist wore Hirokuni’s black conical hat, just a sliver of her face visible. Arik was dressed in a similar manner, and had it not been for other people he’d seen on their walk over, merchants in conical hats carting their wares, he would have felt a little out of place. In the Onyx Realm, people didn’t wear hats like this. If Arik and Tayaura were dressed like this up north, it would have immediately drawn attention to them. But here in the Jade Realm, it was par for the course. No one seemed to notice the pair, nor did anyone bat an eye as the large man carrying the itako in his arms toward the front gate.
“May I ask why you can’t walk?”
“In honor of your father,” the itako told Tayaura. “You shouldn’t be walking either. When we are journeying to bury the dead, it is customary for our feet to remain off the ground so that we can stand clear of that which is below. Emorlio here can carry you, if you would like.”
“Absolutely not. He can push the cart.”
“Suit yourself,” she told Tayaura as they continued on. “Emorlio, the cart, please.”
After the man took the handles of the cart from Arik, Meosa spoke privately to the disciple: “Would you like me to carry you, disciple?”
“Funny,” Arik told him.
“Really, though. You have to wonder sometimes. I certainly do. What have we gotten ourselves into? Why do I feel like things are only going to get stranger from here on out?”
Because you’re probably right, Arik thought, the disciple not saying anything as Meosa continued to ponder what was set to happen.
Tayaura had decided earlier that after the funeral they would move on to the north, and find a place to camp that night. There was no sense in sticking around Moonagwa, and if Saiyo had people in the city, it was best to find a more remote location. It only dawned on Arik after they had left the itako earlier how much traveling they were about to do. He recalled that it had taken some time to reach the Crystal Lake in the northwest portion of the Jade Realm. And to then cross the entire continent from there? Even if there was a passage, one that had been used by merchants for centuries, the nature of what they were doing would mean that they needed to stay off the main road on the way to Minami. Arik assumed this would only complicate their travels.
Minami, Arik thought as they approached the city guards. I remember studying about that place.
The coastal city had once been part of the Onyx Realm, Arik’s home country, until the Crimson-Onyx Shroud War over four hundred years ago. The transfer of Minami to the Jade Realm had been part of the treaty that ended the war. According to what he’d read, there were still people who identified as Onyxians living in the city, and much of the architecture was designed like it was up north.
