Gloria Oliver (17 page)

“Toshi.”

A small groan echoed in the room, mingling with the faint remnants of the call. After a small while, he realized he’d been the source of the former.

Someone had called his name.

He blinked his eyes open, but it was several minutes before his mind acknowledged what they were seeing. Something gold and blazing sat before him. He groaned again, this time louder, his brow furrowing with aimless concentration.

Someone called his name again.

He stared at the bright thing before him, and by degrees he tried to make out what it was. Eventually, his fogged mind argued with itself that what was before him was and wasn’t the sun. Overwhelmed by the seeming incongruity, he closed his eyes and then opened them again. As he looked once more at the blazing sun, he noticed the deep darkness surrounding it. Something sparked in the back of his mind. He was now sure what was before him wasn’t the sun.

The faint voice called his name again.

Allowing his gaze to roam past the object, he realized the field of darkness was finite and curved at the ends. His brow furrowed again as he stared at what he could see, his mind nagging him that what was before him was somehow important to him.

He tried to focus his thoughts to try and remember why the thing was important. Gingerly, he let himself fall back. He discovered he was staring at the ceiling. It occurred to him to wonder where he was.

Turning his head, he looked around the room. The place looked familiar, but something about it was different from before.

“Toshi…”

Rolling back onto his side, he struggled to get up onto his hands and knees. Getting there, he then tried to sit. After a long interval he was successful. Yet he’d spent so long on the one task that he had a hard time remembering why he’d done it.

His name was whispered into the room again.

He studied his surroundings more carefully, and noted the new wooden planks lying on part of the floor.

Looking up at the walls, he noticed they’d been repaired as well. There were things missing, too, and after a moment he remembered what they were. All the warding paper was gone, and so was all the writing on the walls.

The broken furniture had been taken away, except for the small table by the platform. He sat very still as he stared at the familiar table. His breath quickened in recognition of what he saw there—a long walking staff with bronze rings hanging at one end.

His memories snapped back into clarity as abruptly as a summer typhoon rushing past the coast.

Forgetting the staff, he swung his gaze to the object that had been left beside him. The black kettle with its embossed sun stared back.

“Toshi…”

For the first time since he’d awakened, he understood his name was being called from outside. Unable to take his eyes from the beautifully decorated but otherwise common kettle, he waited breathlessly for the call to be repeated. When it was, he listened to it, trying to make sure he wasn’t mistaking it for something it wasn’t. He violently shook his head from side to side and then waited for the call again. He was sure he had to have heard it wrong. What he’d heard wasn’t possible.

The call was an almost unrecognizable shadow of a voice, and it whispered to him again through the bright daylight. He understood what it said, and his mind insisted he knew the caller. But it just wasn’t possible.

Could it be some sort of trick? Yet the only person he knew that might be after him would be unable to call him during the day.

He tried to get up but fell back on the floor. Trying once more, but more carefully this time, he was able to stand. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a little woozy. After taking a few deep breaths, he was able to get his vision to steady. He glanced outside.

The courtyard seemed very much like he remembered, except it looked cleaner, neater than it had before. No one was there. He scanned as far as he could see, but saw no sign of who was calling to him.

He decided to do something about it.

The voice called him again.

With his mind made up, he turned around and checked himself. As far as he could tell, he had no injuries to speak of, though he did feel strangely tired and drained.

Next to the kettle, he found his few possessions lined up in a row. Sitting back down, he checked them.

His bamboo canteen was over half-empty and became even more so after he took a long draught from it.

A small part of his lunch remained; and he ate ravenously, though he had no memory of ever having eaten any of it.

He felt better after he was through, so he stood up. He bent to pick up his boken and slipped it through his sash. He reached for the kettle’s handle, not sure what to expect. There had been no sign of the priest since he’d awakened, other than the staff sitting on the table. Had the priest already exacted his price?

He pushed aside the question as his name rang once more on his ears.

He picked up the kettle. The priest didn’t appear. He felt no prickling on the back of his neck. He assumed it was all right for him to take it.

Sending one last glance around the cleaned room, he still saw no trace of the dead priest. He bowed deeply in the direction of the empty platform and thanked the spirits for their help. Turning his back on all of it, he made his way out into the waiting sunlight.

He felt no temperature change as he stepped outside, like he had on his way in. He glanced behind him and found he could easily see into the temple’s interior. He was suddenly sure the priest was gone.

Whatever had held him there was over.

As he stepped down the new flight of stairs attached to the porch, he found he no longer had any fear of the place. Oddly enough, he felt at peace within it. Grateful for the feeling, he decided not to question it.

Heading toward the broken gates, he was amazed at the amount of work that seemed to have gone on around him. All the leaves had been raked away. The weeds had been pulled from the garden. Rocks had been replaced in the meandering path. The ivy and the dark writing had been cleared away from the inside of the outer walls. Had the priest done all this using his body? Was this what the price had been?

He hesitated at the threshold of the gate. Asaka’s final command whispered through his mind. With suddenly wary eyes, he stared at the area surrounding the outside of the compound.

He’d been told to wait within the temple grounds until the samurai came for him. Yet he had no real idea how long he’d been unconscious. If he was responsible for all the work he saw had been done around him, there was no way he could have done it in a day.

He heard his name called again.

The voice was more distinct here than it had been within the temple. Never in his life had he heard such despair. How long had it been calling for him, and why?

If the things Miko had told him before were to be believed, he should be safe from the ninja during the daytime. Though Asaka had told him to wait, he felt a great need to find out who was calling him. If somehow the ninja had found a human accomplice, it would be better to find out now.

With one hand on the hilt of his boken and the other on the prize they’d all come so far to claim, he left the temple grounds.

The sun dipped to the west as he waited for the voice to call again so he might try to follow the sound back to its source. It did so.

He advanced to the right, sure that was the direction the voice was coming from. He kept his gaze sharp as he stared into the shadowed trees. His heart beat a little faster as he followed the right wall of the temple grounds into the forest.

Though he followed the wall, he didn’t touch it, for that side still bore the dark writing that had been cleaned away inside. The trees grew thicker the farther away he walked from the compound’s entrance.

He held his breath as the call drifted past him again. He tried his best to pick out the direction it had come from. He stared long at the tall pines surrounding him for any sign of ambush. Finding none, he left the certainty of the wall and penetrated deeper into the forest.

He could hear the voice getting louder. He must be getting close. Toshi slowed his pace.

Trying to look everywhere at once as he trekked on, he stopped in mid-stride as he spotted something ahead made of faded multiple colors. Creeping closer, he was able to make out the shape of a woman huddling close against the trunk of a large pine, almost hidden by its shadows. Even from where he was hidden, he could see her shoulders shaking softly as she sat crying.

Though he sneaked to different spots and tried, he couldn’t get a look at her face. Not only was she facing the tree but her head was covered by a wide-brimmed hat with a thick veil drooping all around it.

He was still trying to decide if he should try to get closer when she half-turned, raised her head and called out his name.

For the few seconds her face had lifted toward the sky, he had seen what looked like a white Noh mask with the painted features of a smiling woman.

“Miko-san?” The question had left his lips before he could think to stop himself. The masked face didn’t turn toward him. After a moment, he realized she hadn’t heard him. Tears rose to his eyes as he stared at her despairing form.

Sure it was she, though it shouldn’t have been possible, he stood up and stepped closer. “Miko-san?”

The sound of bells momentarily filled the air as she spun around to stare at him. The familiar mask smiled coyly at him even as flashes of blue light filled its eyes.

“Toshi!”

Before he could do anything, the geisha had risen to her feet and closed the short distance between them. She half-shimmered as she ran, seeming only partially corporeal. She enclosed him in her arms and held him tight.

“
Toshi
.”

A part of him felt a little guilty there was a need for her to be so relieved to see him. He was about to return her embrace to let her know he was happy to see her, too, but hesitated. Though her arms were around him, squeezing him against her, he could barely feel her presence. Though he could see she was holding him with all her might, he felt held by air. He began to feel a different type of guilt, one deeply covered with fear.

Miko’s hand felt cold on his neck, but it wasn’t the penetrating cold of the ship. It was different. He could feel where her bones pressed against him; the rest of her no longer having the magical feel of flesh she’d had before. Gingerly, he put his arms around her, to make sure she wouldn’t vaporize before his very eyes. As he hugged her, the teakettle bumped against her side. With a pain-filled hiss, Miko cringed away from him. Her form wavered as he let her go.

The geisha stepped back to her tree, a low moan escaping from beneath her mask.

“Miko-san, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He reached for her as she moved away, but stopped, afraid he might cause her more pain. The geisha collapsed against the tree as she sat down amidst its deep shadows.

“Miko-san?”

“It’s all right, Toshi-kun,” she said. “I’m too excited. I pushed myself too much, that’s all.”

He watched in panic as she appeared to fade a little more before his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said. “Why would Asaka-sama ask you to do this?” He knelt before her, still not daring to touch her as he fanned his sudden anger to forget his fear.

Miko didn’t look at him, but brought up her hand to hide her mouth. “Toshi-chan, you’re a delight to me, even here.”

He shook his head, confused by her amusement. “I don’t find this funny. He should have never left you out here in the day.”

She reached out her hand to touch his. “Toshi-kun, our lord did not send me here. By now he’s figured out what I’ve done and is probably very angry with me.”

“But why be here?” he asked. “You told me yourself the day was dangerous to you. Why did you decide to stay here?”

Miko cradled his hand in hers. He felt a chill of worry flow through him as he noticed a yellowed tint to her bones that had never been there before. Her eyes wouldn’t meet his own.

“You’ve been gone for over three days, Toshi-kun. I was afraid something horrible had happened to you.”

“Three days?” It’d been that long?

Her eyes flared and caught his own. “Yes, three days. Asaka-sama came to retrieve you that first night, but you never appeared at the gate. You didn’t even answer his call, though he could see a light inside the temple. But he couldn’t get into the grounds to find out what was wrong.” She looked away. “I came with our lord and his party last night. I saw how the scent of death was shrouding the place. Yet it was Mitsuo who first noticed the courtyard had changed.

“The light was in the temple, just as it had been before. But we still saw no sign of you. We called and called, but you never answered. You had to be there, we knew you were there. If you had left the temple grounds we would have known it.”

He opened his mouth to try and explain why he hadn’t answered, but held back as she continued on.

“I returned to the ship with the others, but I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t. I knew Asaka-sama would forbid me to come back, so I didn’t ask him. When the boat returned to pick up some of the others, I slipped into the water and returned here on my own. I hoped if I called for you during the day it would make a difference.” Her eyes dimmed. “I just didn’t know what else to try…” Her voice slipped to silence. With a touch of surprise, he realized she was crying.

Taking great care, he placed his other hand on top of hers. Her hands felt like the bones they were as they scraped softly against his skin. As she tried to take them from him, he could make out some barely audible cracking sounds, making it seem as if her bones were frozen and threatening to break with her every movement.

“Miko-san, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I had no idea that much time had gone by. But, I found it. I found that which you and Asaka-sama needed me to find.”

The white, veiled mask rose to look at him. “You have?”

“Yes. This is it, right here.” He reached for the kettle and presented it to her, wanting to do something, anything, to make her feel better. Miko gingerly reached to touch it, as if she weren’t quite willing to believe it was really there. As her fingers got close to caressing its black surface, she suddenly pulled her hand away.