Gloria Oliver (11 page)

“Is something wrong?” Miko asked. The image dissipated.

He felt a frown smooth out as she stopped playing. He wasn’t sure how to answer her question, especially as she continued studying him with her intense blue stare.

“I was just thinking about how—how beautiful you must have been before—” He stared at the floor, embarrassed by his admission.

“I thought you said you were only fifteen?”

He looked up at her question, not completely understanding it until he realized what kind of thoughts she had assumed had been his. Guiltily, though he’d done no such thing, he looked away, his cheeks growing hot.

Miko’s laughter filled the room, the sound of cascading silver bells adding to her ringing merriment. “You have thought of those types of things before, haven’t you, Toshi-kun?”

He stared at her, shocked she was asking him this. Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth to reply and found it had turned unusually dry. “I—”

Miko’s laughter filled the room again. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s only natural for strong, growing boys to have such thoughts. I’m sure you’ve even been the subject of such thoughts for many developing girls.”

“Miko-san!” The geisha’s mood had definitely improved from the day before, but he wasn’t sure he would survive it. With growing panic, he decided to change the subject. He brought up the first thing that popped into his mind. “Could I see you without the mask, Miko-san?”

Miko’s laughter dissipated. She stared at him with subdued amusement. “I would prefer not to do that, if you don’t mind,” she answered. “Are you finished with your meal?”

“But why not?” he pressed. “I’m used to you now. I know what to expect.”

She said nothing for a few moments. She rose from the floor and gathered his dishes. “I’ll be honest with you. While it’s true at first I wore this mask to ease your fears, I no longer wish to do without it. I realize it’s pure vanity, but I just can’t bring myself to destroy the illusion I’ve created for you. You aren’t like the rest of us here. You’re different. Unless you insist, I’d prefer for things to remain as they have been.”

He sighed, disgusted with himself. He would have done better if he’d been born without a tongue.

“I’m sorry, Miko-san. I didn’t mean—I just seem to do it all the time.” He looked away. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said brightly. “I don’t want you to change. It brings me great pleasure to know you feel comfortable enough with me to say or ask whatever is on your mind.”

“I—”

Miko reached over and placed two of her fingers across his lips.

“It’s all right!” She stared into his brown eyes until he nodded. “Why don’t you get dressed while I get rid of these dishes? You wouldn’t want to tempt a woman for too long with all that manly flesh.”

Against his will, he felt himself blushing. He knew she couldn’t see any part of him through the pile of blankets except for his hands and face. As soon as she left, though, he rushed to get dressed.

When she returned, Miko went back to playing the koto. She played for a time, on occasion adding her clear voice to the plucked tunes. He was more than happy to just sit and listen. His stomach was full, his body warm; and it fascinated his mind to watch her fleshless fingers move over the koto’s strings.

“Toshi-kun, have you ever played Go?” Miko asked.

“I’ve played it a couple of times.” He didn’t add he’d not been good at it. Master Shun had always taken great delight in trouncing him and then pointing out his lack of skill.

Miko left with the koto and returned carrying a wooden block measuring half an arm in length and height. Thin, black lines crisscrossed its lacquered surface, breaking it up into small squares. The geisha set the block in front of him and sat down on the other side. She pulled open a small drawer on the block’s side and removed two silk bags from inside it.

“Would you prefer black or white?” she asked.

“Whichever.”

Miko handed him a bag filled with shiny black pebbles. It wasn’t long after they’d started to play that he knew he didn’t have a chance of beating her. She was even better at the game than Master Shun.

“How long will it be before we reach the islands, Toshi-kun?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, we should get there late tonight or early tomorrow morning, I think.” Since she’d brought the topic up, his curiosity egged him on. “Miko-san, why does Asaka-sama want to go there?”

Miko’s gaze rose to meet his, the game momentarily forgotten. “Long ago, our lord was given a very sensitive and vital mission. An object thought lost had been found, and it was his task to retrieve it and bring it back to its rightful owner.”

“What was it that was lost?”

Miko turned her head away from him. “That I can’t tell you.”

Ignoring his confused look, she made her next move on the board. Her white pebbles had surrounded a group of his and she took them off the board. He didn’t press her, but stared instead at the Asaka family crest painted on the side of the board. Again he had the feeling he’d heard the name and seen their crest somewhere before. “Miko-san, where are the Asaka clan’s lands?”

“They’re located in a beautiful area in northern Tsuyoi.” The light in her eyes flashed.

“Tsuyoi?” He felt his eyes grow wide as vague recollections finally came to light.

“Yes.”

He looked away, his heart beating fast as he remembered where he’d seen the crest before. His gaze lingered again on the three moons inside their circle.

“Master Shun came from a fishing village in southern Tsuyoi,” he said quietly. “He used to like to remind me how hard life had been when he was a child. How I had it so much better than he had by living in the city and being an apprentice. How I would never have to face the violence and injustice that at times went on in the far provinces.”

He sighed. “On days when the sun had been hidden by clouds and rain and he’d drunk too much, he would whisper to me about one of the lords in Tsuyoi. He’d almost be crying as he told me of the great misfortune that had befallen the entire clan and any who’d been closely associated with it, just as fortune had started smiling on them. The whole clan was slaughtered, brutally. They’d been treated as common criminals, not even given the option of committing
seppuku
, ritual suicide. He—he’d sometimes draw something on paper over and over again. It looked just like that.” He pointed to the crest on the game.

His voice faded to a whisper, as he remembered the fear he had seen in his master’s eyes whenever he’d spoken of that particular time.

“Asaka-sama felt the clan pass on, Toshi-kun,” Miko said quietly. “I saw it. I think with us already dead, it had forged in him a spiritual connection to his family. The experience almost destroyed him, and with him, our hopes for redemption.” Miko stared at her empty hands. “At his command, we returned home.

We knew it was too late, but we went anyway.”

He held his breath, wanting, yet not wanting her to go on.

“Asaka allowed none of us to go with him to shore. He shut us all from his heart.” Her past pain was almost palpable. “We feared for him throughout the night he spent there. We weren’t sure what he would do. We weren’t sure what would happen to us if he were gone. Ours was a remote clan, and just the fact we’d been given this task had brought us so much honor. But now….

“Our lord returned to us just before dawn. And with a dead voice I pray never to hear again, he told us of the clan’s murder, of our loss of honor. He then showed us a copy of the proclamation naming us all traitors of the realm. It told how the Asaka clan had been plotting to assassinate one of the great lords.

And such a crime carried the direst of penalties. It meant the death of every man, woman, and child with the name Asaka.”

He paled, realizing that all this time, Master Shun had been telling him the truth and not some fabricated tale to pass the time. The penalty for treason was a dishonorable and painful death. Those given the command to carry out the sentence would scour the land until they were sure the traitorous bloodline had been stomped into extinction.

“The proclamation blamed our lord for the plot,” she said. “The cited crimes against him were pure lies, yet we could do nothing. We were no longer alive, and the destruction of the clan had already occurred.”

Miko sighed. “We have lingered this long because of Ietsugu … and
for
him as well. To complete our mission is our only means to try to clear the Asaka family name and restore its stolen honor. Our lord is the only person of his clan still on this plane. Only through him has the family a chance of reclaiming what’s been lost.”

Silence hung between them. It was thick and filled with emotion. His importance in their quest lay heavily on him, more so than it ever had before. He glanced up at Miko, but averted his gaze when it met hers.

He stared at the board again, sure she would leave but knowing of no way to make her stay. Without much hope, he reached up to the board and made a move that captured three of her pieces. He looked up and almost grinned as he saw her hand shift to make a move of her own.

Each time Toshi was awakened up on deck that evening, it got harder for him to fall back asleep. Every reading showed them to be that much closer to the islands and the samurai’s goal. He found a spark of excitement kindling inside him. Soon they would reach the end of the quest. Soon, this would all be over.

“Sir!”

He sat up at the shout, its eager tone undeniable. He spotted one of the crew standing at the front of the ship, pointing out into the darkness. The samurai stood, his gaze riveted in the direction the skeleton was pointing. Toshi’s spark of excitement grew, though he himself could see nothing in the darkness that consumed everything beyond the immediate area of the glowing ship.

A low murmur swept through the men rowing below. Their oars came to a stop as all their heads turned to stare at Asaka. A palpable current of excited tension permeated the ship. Asaka finally spoke.

“Kenshiro-san, stay as lookout. Kojiro-san, proceed as you will.”

Having been given control, the steersman barked out several commands to the men below. As the rowing began anew, Kojiro called for Toshi to bring him the map. After retrieving it from his basket, he unrolled it as he rushed over. His hands shook as he held the map up for the steersman to see.

“Would you like me to take another set of readings?”

The steersman’s yellow-lit eyes looked down into his young eager face. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

Nodding, he continued holding the map up for him. The steersman stared at the paper for a minute and then looked up into the darkness beyond. “You’ve actually brought us here.” There was a strange tone in the steersman’s voice. “Perhaps it wasn’t all luck after all.”

Toshi glanced up into the skeleton’s face, surprised. He realized this was as close to an apology as the man would ever give. He bowed, trying to hide the small, pleased smile growing on his lips.

Rolling up the map, he returned to his blankets. Without comment he gave the map to Mitsuo and then sat down. He gazed past the front of the ship, waiting for them to reach the first of the Shakuti Islands.

In less than a half-hour, the steersman called for the rowers to slow down. A deep shadow amidst the night’s darkness outlined an island for his expectant gaze.

As the island loomed ever closer, the ship slowed even more. Sand scraped the bottom of the ship as the steersman brought the craft to a halt not far from the beach.

An unusual silence settled over the ship. He hardly dared breathe, waiting to see what would happen next. The splashing of lapping waves on shore sounded loud to his ears.

“We have a few precious hours before dawn,” Asaka said. “This is but the first of the Shakuti chain.

There is no guarantee what we seek will be here. But we won’t be sure unless we are thorough. We have waited a lifetime for this moment. Let us prove we are worthy of our trust!”

As one, the entire crew bowed to their lord. Not sure how he fit into all this, Toshi hurried to do the same. He was startled as he watched Asaka return the crew’s bow with one as deep as their own.

The deck then filled with a flurry of activity. Ten men disappeared into the ship. Within moments, some of them returned carrying ropes, which they secured to the left side of the ship. The rest of the men returned soon after with the skiff that had been used to bring him aboard. As they carried it over to the rope-rigged side, he wondered how in the world they’d gotten the thing below and back up again.

The small boat was lowered into the water.

At a nod from the samurai, four of the men climbed over the side of the ship into the skiff. Within moments, they had disengaged it from the ship and rowed toward shore. The rest of the crew, except for three eager souls, lined up against the rail, waiting for their turn to be taken to this island. Those last three jumped overboard and swam to shore instead.

After four trips, the skiff, manned by one of the crew, returned to settle with a soft clunk against the side of the ship. Asaka, who had sat still through all the previous commotion, stood. Toshi found the samurai’s green-lit gaze aimed in his direction.

“Boy, Mitsuo will remain here with you. You will stay in your quarters while we’re gone,” he commanded. “Under no circumstances are you to attempt to go ashore. Is this understood?”

“Hai, Asaka-sama.” He bowed, overwhelmed by disappointment. Now that he had been forbidden to go, he found the island calling to him. It told him he should leave this place of strangeness and death and join it—a place of the living.

His gaze jealously following Asaka, he folded his blankets. As he watched the samurai and the others row away, though, it occurred to him his job for Asaka was almost over. As soon as they found what they were looking for, he would navigate them back to the city and he would be free. Suddenly lightheaded, he sent out a long prayer for the quick recovery of the item they’d all come such a long way to find. He then followed Mitsuo below.

The old samurai opened the door to his room for him and, after taking a quick look inside, let him rush in. Mitsuo closed the door behind him. Toshi ran to his waiting futon, dropping the folded blankets on top of it. As he twisted for a moment to put his basket on the floor, he heard something whoosh past his ear and hit the planking not far away from him. A slim, wobbling knife protruded from a glowing board.