Chapter Ten
Another cold morning on the mountain.
Arina pulled the thick, woollen cloak more tightly around her body, leaning up against the wall of the small Meihi dwelling with a heavy sigh. It was two days since the trip to Touran, and in that time she had barely seen more than a vague glimpse of Kishayi as he went about his daily tasks. Though Bakaru and Kaeli had both explained to her that, as physician Mikoyi's most diligent apprentice, he had many duties to take care of, she could not help but think that he was somehow avoiding her company.
She sighed again, clenching and unclenching her fists as she remembered his expression when he had left her.
"Even though we can't actually speak, it's like he doesn't want to come near me. As though he's afraid of me, now, because of that stupid book of Suzuno-san's," she muttered, kicking idly at a stone and watching it roll across the hard, cold ground with little enthusiasm. "Oh, damn that diary! It's done nothing but get me into a heap of trouble. And I did hope that maybe we were going to be friends - but I guess that's that, now."
Another chill wind whipped through her hair at that moment and she shivered involuntarily, glancing up at the sky as if she expected snow to descend on her from the heavens at any moment. Even in the few days she had been among the Meihi people, she had learnt that blizzards could spring out of nowhere, but today there were few clouds and none of them had the ominous grey sheen that told of hidden frozen loads.
Part of the problem was that, no matter how kind they were to her, she was not a part of this world. Though some of them spoke her language, few of the Meihi had the same fluency as Kaeli or Bakaru, and though none of them had treated her like an outsider, she knew that was blatantly what she was. Everywhere she looked she saw people pale enough to be snow themselves, silver hair glinting in the feeble sunlight, and vivid amethyst eyes glimmering with light. In those short few days, Arina had stopped thinking of them as being unusual. In fact, aside from the trip to Touran, she had not seen a single person with dark hair or dark eyes except for her own reflection, and little by little she was coming to the wry conclusion that it was she who was the unusual one.
"Outsider," she murmured, turning on her heel and pushing back the heavy wooden door, stepping into the chamber beyond. The fire still smouldered in the grate, carefully built around with stone so as to prevent stray embers from shooting out and setting light to any of the elaborate fabrics that covered every vestige of the Meihi living space. Though the world outside was frozen, bleak and cold, Arina mused to herself, the inside of their homes could not be more different. Across every surface were the indications of the indiginous skills the Meihi people possessed, from the deftly woven wool of rugs, clothing and floor coverings to the elaborate dyes and carvings that decorated the doors and windowframes in characters and imagery that Arina did not understand. Even the fire itself had not escaped this expression of life and nature, for engraved in each of the stones that gave it support were the distinctive curls and weaves of ebony flames.
For a moment she stared at it, both envying and admiring the skill that had put the patterns in place. Then she sighed, shaking her head as if to clear it.
Stepping through to her own small chamber, she sank down on her bed, her gaze falling on her bag which had been carelessly pushed on one side since the conversation with Kishayi two afternoons earlier. As she settled herself more comfortably on the brightly patterned bed cover, she reached across to grab the strap, pulling it towards her and unzipping it as she carefully tipped out her meagre belongings.
It wasn't much, she reflected mournfully, touching the curled edges of the crumpled magazine with a flicker of regret. The last vestiges of her world, compacted into a tiny holding space and flung with her through time and space to a place that she did not understand.
Was she feeling homesick, at last?
The irony of this thought brought a faint smile to her face, and slowly she shook her head. If it was homesickness, it wasn't for the empty home or the latchkey lifestyle she had led for almost as long as she could remember. This world was the world in which her closest friend currently stayed, and somehow she knew that Hikari was a more important person to her than either of her distant, preoccupied parents. If they had noticed her absence, it would be a miracle in itself, she reflected bitterly. And if they were worried about her, well, so be it.
But this place was not her world, and no matter how little hold she thought Tokyo had on her, she knew that deep inside of her something ached for even the faintest snippet of familiarity.
"I'm like an alien, dropped onto some completely unknown planet," she muttered, scooping up her cigarettes and her lighter and getting to her feet as she put one to her lips, lighting it carefully and tossing the lighter back down onto the bed. "I don't belong here. I have no idea how Hikari managed to adjust to this - if the place she's gone is anything like Koku-zan. People are friendly - they couldn't be more friendly. But how can I do anything if I don't understand the first thing about this world? I can't even speak the language of those around me."
She let out a slow exhale of smoke, sinking back down onto the bed as a wave of self-pity began to wash over her. In Tokyo, she had always been used to being the centre of attention where her friends were concerned, and she had never liked things flying out of her control. Yet this world was entirely out of her hands, and she wasn't sure whether she liked it.
She glanced at the cigarette ruefully. It was the first time, she realised, since she had woken up in the Meihi village that she had been lured by the call of the nicotine. Back home, she knew, she would have gone through a packet or more by this time. But in the rush of everything that had happened, it had not even occured to her to indulge in her usual comfort. Now, however, with her doubts and insecurities creeping up over her, she had felt the cravings slipping back and, without thinking she had done what she had so often done before - hidden her woes behind a cigarette.
"And who knows if they even have cigarettes in this world," she murmured, putting the stick to her lips once more. "Probably not. I wish I'd looked that up before I decided to go crazy about this legend. I haven't many left, and if I don't know how to get back, I'm going to be going crazy in a few days from now."
"Arina?"
A voice at the door startled her and she jerked around, dropping the cigarette in her surprise. As the warm tip touched the fabric of the rug, it began to smoulder, and she let out an exclamation, scrambling to put it out before it could take hold and cause serious damage. Impulsively she flung her hands down on the smoking fabric, oblivious of the danger as she extinguished the flame.
"What are you doing?"
Bakaru's calm, curious tones made her look up in embarrassment, scooping up the now extinguished cigarette.
"You made me jump," she said sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do any damage."
"Damage?" Bakaru stepped forward, peering down at the faintly singed rug edge, then frowning. He held out his hand to her, and Arina bit her lip, swallowing hard as slowly she relinquished her prize to her host.
"It's something from my world," she explained hastily. "I wasn't trying to do any harm, I just..."
"I see." Bakaru eyed the cigarette for a moment, putting it to his nose and sniffing it cautiously. Then his eyes narrowed, and he set it on one side, reaching out to take Arina's hands in his. Gently he turned them over, uncurling her fingers to reveal the red marks that had begun to blister across her palms.
"You should not put your bare skin to fire, Arina. Surely you're old enough to have learnt that rule?"
The words were soft, and only faintly chiding, yet Arina flushed red, wishing she could be swallowed up by the rug itself as she nodded her head.
"I...I just..."
"If you are old enough to know how to light a fire, you should surely know how to put it out, child," Bakaru offered her a smile. "I don't know what these things are from your world, but I think it would be better if you didn't try and use them until you've learnt that lesson. This time you're lucky - the burning is minor, but it will sting."
"I didn't even think," Arina confessed. "I'm sorry, Bakaru-san. I just didn't want to burn the rug, and well, I didn't expect you..."
She faltered, and Bakaru pulled her gently to her feet.
"I think Mikoyi should see them, to ensure they don't become worse than they are," he said frankly. "Kishayi is helping him, so it will be a chance for the two of you to speak."
"That's easier said than done." Arina grimaced. "I'm sorry, Bakaru-san. I think I really scared him the other day. He...won't even meet my gaze for long. And..."
She paused, glancing across at the cigarettes.
"I think I was feeling a bit lonely and homesick," she admitted. "I haven't touched those things since I came here, till now. I feel like a real foreigner here, that's the truth."
"Are people unkind to you?" Bakaru looked startled, as he led the way through the house and out into the cold winter air outside. Arina shook her head.
"Not at all," she assured him. "But I'm not from here. I don't look like you, or speak like you, or understand the things you do. This place is totally different from anything I've ever known, and I feel a bit stranded. That's all."
"I suppose that's natural," Bakaru's face cleared, "and I understand the feeling. We have all felt it at times, those of us who have spent time in the outside world."
"I...I suppose so." Arina pursed her lips. "I suppose when you're a slave, it must feel like that a lot."
"Yes," Bakaru agreed. "This place is not what you might consider a normal settlement because of it. Whereas in the past, Meihi would live in undisturbed clusters for generations, with entire families passing skills and trades from parent to child, this place is different. We are all Meihi, true enough, but some are from the Eastern lands and some of us born in the North. We come from far and wide, and have little to bequeath our children except what we have built up in the fifteen years or so since we came here. For that reason, there is still too much wariness to expect many of the young Meihi to want to learn about the outside world. For you to come to us from there would no doubt be strange enough, but to come from a different world completely..."
"Exactly." Arina nodded her head. "It would help if I could speak more Meihi, I think, but I suppose that's impossible. I never heard it before I came here, . I don't think it exists in my world."
"Probably not," Bakaru reflected, "but don't be downcast. My message will reach Lilaihi in due course, and he will no doubt respond with equal speed, knowing the man that he is. If we can get you to Shunhou, somehow, I know he will find a way to help you. And the language spoken in Kutou is not dissimilar to your own - a matter of accent, perhaps, but not much more. You'll no doubt feel that fitting in is easier, there."
"I don't want you to think that I don't like you people, or that I'm ungrateful," Arina pinkened. "I sound like a spoiled brat, moaning when you saved my life and everything. Just..."
"Your friend is in the South, correct?" Bakaru's eyes twinkled. "I understand. So will Lilaihi. , it took twenty five years for him to be reuinited with his blood sister Lirayi. He knows what it is like to seek someone dear who is far away."
He pushed open the door of Mikoyi's workroom, ushering her inside.
"For the time being, let Mikoyi see your hand," he advised. "Just in case it needs treating."
Arina stepped into the small room, the smell of herbs assailing her as she glanced around her. This was a very different kind of chamber, she realised, for though it was as full of carvings and imagery as the house, it was clearly a place of work. Row upon row of dried herbs lined one wall, with vials and boxes stacked neatly beneath, each of them having been carefully labelled in the Meihi's scrawling script by some kind of blade. A fire blazed in the hearth, over which was hung a tar-coated rack tied in place by thick thongs of what looked like leather but, on closer inspection proved to be more of the Meihi's distinctive weaving, dipped in the same black substance to protect it from the flames below. On the rack sat two or three ceramic bowls, and liquids of differing shades bubbled within each.
On the other side of the room was a low-slung bed, and beside it, a desk on which were piled a series of scrolls tied with coloured wool. In the centre of the chamber, robed in what could only be described as a work apron and carefully counting seeds into a bowl was the village's physician, Mikoyi, a tall, lean man in his middle years with his thick silver hair cropped to his shoulders and pulled back from his face in a short, workmanlike tail. At the sight of him, Bakaru hurried forward, saying something in his soft, smooth Meihi dialect. At his words, Mikoyi nodded his head, casting Arina a smile as he gestured for her to show him.
Automatically Arina did as she was bidden, vaguely aware for the first time of the stinging pain of the cigarette burn against her skin. She really had been stupid, she mused ruefully, inwardly thanking her lucky stars that none of her school-friends had seen her so hopelessly lacking in composure.
"Is burnt, not bad." Mikoyi was speaking now, in his broken, clipped rendition of her language. "Wait. Will medicine."
Arina nodded, and Mikoyi hurried across the chamber, calling something to someone beyond as he did so. A cloth screen was hurriedly pulled back, and Arina's eyes opened wide as she met the startled gaze of her rescuer across the herb-smoked chamber.
"Kishayi," she whispered, and at the sound of his name, Kishayi started, looking at first uncomfortable, then apologetic as he bowed his head towards her. He passed something to the physician, who took it, shaking it against his ear, then nodding his head. He murmured something to Kishayi, who reddened, then cast Arina another glance. Then, with another jerky bow, he disappeared back into the other room.
Despite herself, Arina felt deflated, and Bakaru sighed.
"I will speak to him," he said resignedly. "Arina, stay and let Mikoyi tend your hand. His ointment will make it throb a little tonight, but it will be mostly healed over by the morning so try and bear with it, all right? And if you need me, please, just call my name. I'll come."
"You don't have to..." Arina began, but Bakaru smiled, shaking his head.
"If I don't, noone else can," he chided gently. "Even you can't communicate properly with the boy, can you? I understand how you feel and how he does, so I'm the obvious person to play intermediary. Don't worry about it, Arina. The Meihi have undertaken to care for you till you can be transferred to where your friend is. And we take that promise seriously - it's all part of the same thing."
He winked, resting his hand briefly on her shoulder, and then he was gone.
Arina bit her lip.
"I wish I could talk to Kishayi myself," she muttered. "I've never been the kind of girl who's liked having go-betweens."
"Hold still. Will sting," Mikoyi instructed her at that moment, and Arina forced her attention back to the present as the capable physician began to dab his yellowish ointment onto her hand with a fine-tipped brush. At the sudden twinging sensation she winced, biting her lip, and Mikoyi smiled.
"Not long," he assured her. "Still, please."
Arina nodded her head, resisting the urge to pull her hand back, but her gaze strayed to the room at the back of the workshop.
No matter what Bakaru said, she reflected sadly, she couldn't take back the book's strange magical aura. As things stood, she might find herself leaving the village without ever spending more time with Kishayi.
Somehow she knew that she disliked this thought, even if as yet she didn't know more than a few words of his language.
"He saved my life," she reflected. "And if I can avoid it, I really don't want us to part like this!"
"And that's the safest route from the palace here into Kutou?"
Kinka glanced up from the map that was spread across one of the large oak tables, casting Aoiketsu a questioning look as she did so. "You're quite sure about it, Kaiga-dono? There's nothing we might have overlooked? Ouba-hime's safety is of prime importance, , and..."
"I'm quite sure." Aoiketsu nodded his head, frustration glittering in his seiran eyes. "I've gone over and over this with a fine tooth comb and it's the only route we can realistically take if we have a hope of getting to Shunhou without problems. I'm a native of Kutou, let's not forget. I know my way across this terrain with my eyes shut. You could do me the favour of trusting my judgement a little bit when it comes to plotting routes."
"You're still as much a stranger to me as anyone at this court is," Kinka said pragmatically. "I swore in blood to my Prince that I'd protect his sister with my life. I'll do it, if I have to, but I'd rather not be in the position where it's necessary. The journey from Arudo to Shunhou is long and dangerous enough as it is. It's no slight to you, Kaiga-dono, but I find it hard to put all my trust in a foreigner's judgement. Ouba-hime is nothing more to you than a commodity in transit. To me she's something more, and I have to be sure."
Aoiketsu's eyes narrowed, and slowly he shook his head.
"You're wrong," he said frankly. "This journey isn't as much of a duty for me as you might think. Remember, Princess Ouba is not the only treasure we'll be protecting. Against my advice Hikari's sought the Emperor's permission to join the party, and I can't overrule Reizeitei-sama's consent. But if you think I'd do anything to put that girl in danger, you should think again. We both have things to protect on this journey, and you can rest assured that for that reason I've plotted the safest route that I can think of from here to the East."
Kinka sighed, rubbing her temples.
"I'm sorry," she said contritely. "I suppose perhaps I'm being too forceful about this. I'm just worried, that's all. I don't know why Lady Hikari decided she'd join us, but like you, I'm not inclined to object to it when Ouba-hime seems to be in favour of her company on the journey East. But I know that no matter how peaceful a country is, there's always dangers. Even in Sairou, the same is true. Rogues still operate under the radar in many quarters, and that at least is familiar territory to me. This is not. And I dislike things being out of my control."
"Your comrade Sayo is less concerned about leaving it to me," Aoiketsu reflected, leaning up against one of the immense red-stained columns and folding his arms across his chest. "Why is it that you're so much more troubled by it, Kinka-dono? That it's your mistress's safety at stake, I understand. Believe me, I wholeheartedly understand. But even so, we're on the same side. This is my Emperor's wish as well as yours. I'm bound by blood and honour to do his bidding as much as you are your Prince's. And this match means a good deal to Kutou, just as it will to Sairou. It's in noone's interests to let anything befall the Princess. Believe me."
"I suppose I know that," Kinka admitted, crossing the chamber and resting her hands on the stone sill as she gazed out across the peaceful palace grounds. In the distance, sconced in the royal gardens she could just about make out the outline of her Princess and the former Seiryuu no Miko, and she sighed, shaking her head.
"I worry far too much," she murmured. "I know better than anyone that treason can strike very close to the throne."
"And you think that someone will betray you, before you reach Shunhou?" Aoiketsu raised an eyebrow. "Or is it that you think Kutou will do the betraying, Kinka-dono? That there is some elaborate dark scheme at work beneath the facade of cooperation?"
"Is there?" Kinka turned to glance at him, and Aoiketsu offered her a wry smile, shaking his head.
"Of all nations, Kutou is probably the most experienced at such covert scheming," he acknowledged. "That was the province of the former Priest of Seiryuu's shrine and those who followed him. This Kutou is not the Kutou of Shoukitei, or that of predecessors who marched roughshod over other people's livelihoods to gain power and influence. My Emperor is a different kind of King. He is a soldier, but he is not a violent man. He fought to survive, and to bring peace to his land, once and for all. Marrying Princess Ouba is the last piece in that puzzle. If he can sire an heir of good enough blood to succeed him, then Kutou can look to the future with hope. So you have nothing to fear. In truth, I think that Sairou are a stronger political force than Kutou are at the minute. It would be a foolish act indeed to goad them into attacking Shunhou. And my Emperor is not a foolish man."
"So I have heard many times," Kinka admitted, "by many different people."
"Yet you don't believe it?"
"I can't afford to believe it entirely." Kinka glanced at her hands. "I want to, badly, but to believe it would be to let down my guard. And I mustn't do that - no matter what."
"You are an unusual type of noblewoman, Kei Kinka-dono." Aoiketsu eyed her thoughtfully. "You carry yourself as though you are of high-born blood, yet you speak, sometimes, like you've trained as a soldier and are primed for battle. Which is it? What kind of lady companion are you, truly, where the Princess is concerned?"
"To be born of noble blood and to be noble are two things," Kinka said simply. "Noone can say that all they are is what they were born. We all move forwards, depending on the situation we find ourselves in. In my case, I am an orphan who owes her life and her current favour to the kindness of the royal house. So I repay that kindness with my loyalty - since there is nothing else I have to give."
"It's like that, is it?" Aoiketsu looked pensive. "Then perhaps we have something in common, Kinka-dono."
"In common?" Kinka looked startled. "With you?"
"You needn't sound so repulsed by the idea," Aoiketsu snorted. "Even if I am from the East, I thought I'd already told you that you've no reason to consider me an enemy."
"I'm sorry," Kinka looked rueful. "I have a bad tendency to bluntness on occasion...forgive me. I didn't mean to cast that implication on it - I was just confused as to how we could be alike. You are from Kutou, and trained there under the care of your Emperor from a very early age, . You must have heard the name Kei Engai in that time, surely? You could not have been oblivious to his existence within your land."
"Kei Engai?" Aoiketsu's eyes narrowed, and he nodded.
"I remember," he agreed. "At least, I remember the conflict and the stories that went around the barracks at the time. He was a rebel - an exile from some distant land who joined with the Emperor's enemies and caused a fair bit of trouble for us, one way or another. There was a tremendous battle, during which the Emperor was badly injured. After that, I know, several of the rebels were hunted down on Hyoushin-sama's orders, and brought to trial. All of those found guilty of collaboration were put to death for treason, and others who had fled to outside of Kutou's jurisdiction died in mysterious circumstances. It was a ruthless, sweeping gesture of justice in the Emperor's name, and I remember it well because I remember how firmly Hyoushin-sama dealt with it all. Of all of the rebels apprehended, only one wasn't executed. That was Kei Engai. But other than that...I don't know what happened next, or why he was spared."
"He wasn't spared," Kinka said frankly, turning her gaze back to the horizon. "He was simply returned to his homeland, where he was called to face charges of treason against his own Emperor."
"His own...?"
"Kei Engai was my father," Kinka continued, without turning around. "The Emperor that put him to death was Ouba-hime's father, Heiboutei-heika of the West."
"Your father?" Aoiketsu's eyes widened, and Kinka nodded.
"As the child of a man like that, I had no prospects or future in Sairou," she said quietly. "By Western law, I was debarred from inheriting my father's lands, which were seized in full by the crown. I could have been killed, too, but I was fortunate. My mother's cousin Rouhei took me in, and protected me from any backlash. He was the one who suggested that I enter Ouba-hime's service, and the Empress Rie took pity on my situation, so she persuaded the Emperor to agree. Since then, I have owed them everything I have. And I would sooner die than betray them in the way my father did."
"I see," Aoiketsu pursed his lips. "So it means so much to you to protect Ouba-hime because you feel like, in some way, you're clearing the stains on your family's reputation? That somehow, by doing this, you can put right the wrongs your father committed and prove that not all of your kin are of traitor's blood?"
"Something like that, though I am genuinely fond of the Princess, too," Kinka grinned, nodding her head.
"Then we are even more alike than I realised," Aoiketsu observed.
"How so?" Kinka raised an eyebrow, and Aoiketsu offered her a wry smile.
"My father was not Kaiga Gin, but Nakago, the former Shougun of Kutou," he said frankly. "I am Kaiga Aoiketsu for form's sake only, not because it is true. My mother took a gamble and chose to betray her husband in the hope that it would help to bring about a better Kutou. She died when I was born, and for a long time, I didn't know anything about it - I only knew that I had been raised according to her dying wishes, to fight for the East in everything I did. But when I discovered it - that my birth father was the man who had caused so many people so much suffering - I felt I had a debt to repay. And I submitted my sword after the last battle because I don't want to follow in his footsteps. I am my Emperor's man, just as you are loyal to Princess Ouba. Like you, I owe him my life. And nothing would ever compel me to betray him."
"Nakago's son?" Kinka stared. "Are you telling me the truth? You are the son of a Stellar Warrior?"
"Yes," Aoiketsu nodded. "Just like Reizeitei-sama and Hikari both are."
"I see," Kinka's brows knitted together. "Well, then that explains your Western eyes. Your Nakago was a Hin, wasn't he? A tribe from Sairou, originally. You have Western blood - in which case, maybe I can trust you."
"Where someone comes from doesn't decide whether or not you can trust them," Aoiketsu reflected. "Now you've decided that, maybe you'll trust my map-reading skills? The truth is that there are no safe paths. As you said, rogues operate everywhere and some parts of Kusou-ken are still very poor, with pockets of desperate thieves lurking in the shadows waiting to rob unsuspecting passers by. The Emperor cannot reach everywhere at once - even Reizeitei-sama can't guarantee food in the mouths of every person, no matter how hard he tries to improve the standard of living across Kounan. Kusou-ken suffered the worst in the past conflicts between Kutou and Kounan, and it's some distance from Eiyou, which means that it's harder to convince the people there that they can trust in anything coming over the Eastern border. Plus, we'll have to cross into Seisen, which has a turbulent history with Kutou and with my Father in particular. But even despite those things, it's the best route to take. And besides, I know the military officials stationed in the Southern region of Kutou. If we pass into that area, we can get a message to court quickly and know that it will be delivered exactly as it should be. Hyoushin-sama is the one who gave me the order to accompany you, so he will be waiting for that communication and it will make things much smoother."
"Hyoushin," Kinka murmured. "You said that name before, didn't you? The name...of Kintsusei-sama's current Shougun, correct?"
"Yes," Aoiketsu agreed.
"The Meihi?"
"That's right."
"I see." Kinka's eyes narrowed as she digested this. "A powerful man indeed, then."
"Without doubt," Aoiketsu nodded. "He'll make sure that, once we're in the Eastern lands, we have all the protection we need on the trip to the capital."
He smiled.
"I was trained in swordsmanship by Hyoushin-sama, and in some ways he's the closest thing I've ever had to a father figure," he added. "I trust him, and you should, too."
"I will be interested to meet him," Kinka admitted. "I've heard so many stories about this Meihi Shougun and his close rapport with the Emperor of Kutou."
She sighed.
"I wish this journey was already over," she added. "I don't feel that Ouba-hime is in any danger here, at Reizeitei-sama's court. Everything in Kounan is as Nefuru-oujisama anticipated it would be, . Reizeitei-sama is truly Heiboutei-heika's close political ally and as shrewd a man as his reputation suggests. But once we leave...once we leave..."
"You have a premonition of bad fortune?" Aoiketsu asked softly, and Kinka shrugged.
"I'm not given to those things," she owned. "Although the man who I now call guardian is Sairou's court astrologer, so I have some vague knowledge of star patterns and how to read their movements in the sky. Not enough to draw any kind of convincing forecast, however. I was never good enough to do that. It's just..."
She trailed off, shaking her head as if to clear it.
"I suppose that the sooner we reach Shunhou the better," she said finally. "That's all."
"I share that sentiment," Aoiketsu admitted. "I'm not a fan of predictions of any nature - believe me, past experience has taught me that it's better not to know what fate has in store for you, because the chance of you changing it is slim indeed. I've seen enough people struggle to try and change their future yet without success - all knowing about it does is bring you suffering. At least, so long as you're a person from this world."
His gaze darted out across the gardens, to where Ouba and Hikari were deep in conversation about something.
"Maybe the laws of fate bind even her, now," he added. "Now she's part of our world for good, perhaps she's tied into the same rules as everyone else. But Hikari's the only person I've ever known to have the power to change destinies."
"I don't think anyone can see exactly what their future holds," Kinka shook her head. "Stars can be wrong, and even if they're right, it's up to the person interpreting them to know what it means. Besides, individuals have choices, too. Even if something is written in the skies, it doesn't mean it has to come true. If a person chooses to do something, or not to do it, then that's up to them. My father chose to be a traitor and pursue his own ambitions. I choose to be loyal and protect my Princess from harm. Those are judgements we made as people. They weren't forced into us by some greater power. We're all responsible for our own actions - successes and failures alike."
"When we get to Kutou, you'll have to discuss that with Myoume," Aoiketsu's lips twitched into a wry smile. " I think she might just disagree."
"Who or what is Myoume?" Kinka frowned. "Why would she care?"
"Myoume is Hyoushin-sama's wife," Aoiketsu responded. "But more importantly, she's a Westerner, like you. She's the friend that Hikari is so keen to go and visit - and more than that, she carries the mark of Byakko on her finger. She's Toroki - the prophet of the West."
Kinka paled, staring at him in alarm.
"Byakko's..." she whispered, and Aoiketsu frowned, concern crossing his expression at her sudden reaction.
"Kinka-dono? Are you all right? You've gone white."
"Did you say...Byakko's Toroki?" Kinka demanded. "A person at the Eastern court who is marked with one of the Tiger's stellar symbols?"
"Yes," Aoiketsu agreed. "She was guardian of his Shinzahou until Hikari came to this world - and now her duty is over, she's settled in Kutou. In fact, I think that Kintsusei-sama hopes she'll be some comfort for Ouba-hime when she first arrives - as compatriots, if nothing else."
Kinka muttered a curse, spreading her hands out in front of her as she struggled to get her whirling thoughts into order.
"Byakko's Toroki," she muttered. "But...does that mean...all this time...?"
"All this time?" Aoiketsu's brows knitted together. "Kinka-dono, what are you talking about? What's wrong with Myoume being Byakko's? Like I said, her duty ended when Byakko took his Shinzahou back and re-concealed it somewhere beyond this world's grasp. She's not dangerous. And I don't think she's seen the future since then - it's not like she goes around telling people things that are going to happen to them all the time. At least, not now, she doesn't."
Kinka slowly lowered her hands, clasping them together to stop them from trembling.
"Byakko's legend is supposed to be over," she said softly. "Kaiga-dono, please, give me your word that you won't mention this person to Ouba-hime? At least, not in terms of her stellar power. At the moment...it's something that Ouba-hime doesn't need to know. Especially with all the things already facing her - if she was to think that Byakko's people were reappearing all over the landscape..."
"I don't understand why you're so upset." Aoiketsu eyed her keenly. "I never met any of Seiryuu's Seishi, though I'd have liked to. I have met two of Suzaku's surviving ones, and I'd trust them both with my life - in fact, probably I have done, at some point or other. There's nothing to be afraid of. They're not enemies - far from it. They're born to save this world from destruction, so if the God calls them..."
"If the God calls them, it means danger is in the air," Kinka cut across him, her tones cold. "And if Ouba-hime thought that that was the case, she'd fret about the people she's left behind in Arudo. I can't let that happen, Kaiga-dono. I have my orders, from both Nefuru-oujisama and my guardian to see to it that the Princess reaches her destination safely. There is no question of us turning back, and I won't have her left to fret."
"I think you're taking things a little seriously, but if that's how you feel, I'll not interfere." Aoiketsu shrugged. "It's not my business. You'll soon see for yourself that Myoume's not someone you need to be afraid of. Although I suppose, if you've not met any Seishi before, I can understand why you'd be a little apprehensive. It's been a hundred years since Byakko's legend panned out, hasn't it? this time, I guess people in Sairou aren't used to the idea - whereas here and in the East, there are people who remember the battles with clarity."
"Sairou has peace, so there's no need for Byakko's people to be called," Kinka said flatly. "As you said, it's been a hundred years, and Sairou has flourished in that time. As far as I'm concerned, that piece of Western history is long since over - and no good can come from trying to resurrect it."
"In which case, let's turn our attention back to the map, and focus on something more pressing," Aoiketsu suggested. "Then, at the very least, we can report to people later tonight exactly what path we plan on taking when we leave Eiyou in a couple of days."
"Agreed," Kinka nodded, relief flickering in her eyes. "Let's do that. I want to have it memorised, in any case - I don't want us to carry a map with us, in case of trouble. It's harder to extract information about someone's destination if there's nothing written down, ."
"Then we have work to do, if you're totally unfamiliar with this terrain," Aoiketsu said frankly. "And we shouldn't waste any more time talking about unimportant things. I doubt either of us are going to rest easy until we're safely riding through the gates of the Kutou Royal Palace - so we should put our heads together again and work on making that a smooth and swift reality."
"So, what exactly do you plan to do now, Kishayi?"
As Bakaru pushed back the curtain, stepping into the small back room, Kishayi swung around, staring at the tribe's elder with a guilty look on his pale features. He bit his lip, uncertain what to say, but from his companion's expression, he soon realised that it was obvious what the unspoken subject matter was.
Arina.
For a moment there was silence, then Bakaru sighed, shaking his head.
"You've disappointed me, you know," he said softly, and the gentle reproach in his words made Kishayi flinch, setting down the herbs he had been stripping.
"It's not my fault," he murmured. "I don't know how to talk to someone...from outside."
"No, you're too afraid to try," Bakaru admonished him. "Poor Arina now thinks that you've taken a hate at her, because you can't overcome your fears and prejudices."
"I don't know how to speak her language!" Kishayi protested. "I don't understand what she says, Bakaru. How can I try and talk to her when that's the case?"
"I thought she tried to teach you?"
"Yes...but..."
"But then something happened that you didn't understand, and you did what you so often do." Bakaru did not raise his voice, but Kishayi winced at the meaning in his elder's tones. "You backed off, and fled for safer ground."
He tut-tutted, shaking his head.
"I had hoped that I wouldn't have to talk to you about this, but I think it's got to a point where I have no choice," he said heavily. "I hoped you would realise it on your own, and step forward without needing me to nudge you - but perhaps I hoped for too much. Still, you're seventeen now. You're too old to be treated as a child any longer...and I won't have you acting like one, either. Not in my village."
"Bakaru...?" Kishayi's eyes widened with alarm, and Bakaru nodded.
"You are afraid of the world outside - we both know that," he continued simply. "You have reason to be, in some respects. I know your mother's story better than you, because I remember the tearful way in which she told it to me, with you clutched tightly in her arms as if she was afraid you'd be torn away. I remember how you struggled and fought for life despite the terrible time you'd both had and the odds against you ever taking a breath in the world. And I know the fate of your father and, probably, your brothers, too. It's the same fate as befell my brother, and the family of many other people here. Given those tales, I understand why you've grown up with the fears you have. I think it would be hard for most children to ignore them."
"Exactly," Kishayi leant back against the wall, meeting his elder's gaze with an earnest one of his own. "And it's not like I have never been outside of the village. I went to Touran with Mother and Arina. I'm not as much of a coward as you think I am, you know."
"Aren't you?" Bakaru raised an eyebrow, and Kishayi felt his brief sense of defiance fading into nothing at the older man's piercing gaze. "I don't think you understand. You've taken nothing but fear from your mother's stories, haven't you, my boy? You heard the tales of your father's death and your brothers' being taken and you've immediately assumed that means people from outside are dangerous to get involved in. And even though you saved Arina's life, in the end, those fears still drive you. Yet you don't understand the other message in Kaeli's experiences. My experiences. The pasts of all who fled here for sanctuary in the first place."
"What do you mean?" Kishayi's brows knitted together. "What message?"
Bakaru reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder, offering him a smile.
"The damage that prejudiced minds can cause, my boy," he said softly. "That's all."
Kishayi stared at him, stricken, and Bakaru nodded.
"By running frightened from all outside people, you taint them all with the same brush," he continued gently. "You assume that each and every person who is not Meihi must be a potential demon, waiting to enslave and torture you. But the world out there is not that world, and not everyone is that way. Have you forgotten the people in Sairou who saved your mother's life, helped deliver you safely into this world and gave you shelter when you had nowhere else to turn? What about all the people who assisted you on your journey to Koku-zan? I know you don't remember anything about that part of your life, but you have heard those stories as sure as you've heard the others. Not everyone who lives outside this place is evil. But there is no difference between the prejudices some of them hold against Meihi and the ones you are harbouring against them. Do you not realise, my boy, that what you are fostering inside your heart is the first seed of something that will grow and fester into suspicion, and eventually, hate?"
"Bakaru..." Kishayi could not look more dismayed. "I didn't...it's not...I don't hate them! I don't hate anyone, it's not like that! I just...I don't know how to communicate with people outside! I don't understand them! Yes, I'm scared of them - call me a coward if you like, because maybe it's what I am. But please, don't compare me to the people who killed my father and stole my brothers! I'm not like them! I'd never be like them!"
"They were all children once, the same as you," Bakaru responded gravely, his grip on the boy's shoulder's tightening as he looked him directly in the eyes. "Innocent mewling babes in arms, just as you were when you were first born. What they learnt from their parents probably dictated how they came to grow and act. You have learnt from being here the dangers of the outside world. I don't believe you're an evil person, my boy. I've never thought that. But you don't have to be an evil person to think evil thoughts or do evil things. We are Meihi, yes. We do not fight, no matter what the provocation might be. But just because we are born Meihi does not mean we're not susceptible to the same emotions and drives as people who are not. We are not different from the people outside except in our appearances. And if you persist in dividing us in your mind, eventually it will reach a point from which you cannot return."
He smiled.
"You have had several opportunities to go to Touran, or to learn the language spoken there, but you have always refused," he added. "We've had people here before - rescued from the mountain - but you've always kept well out of their way. But this time, it's different. This time, you were the one to bring the stranded here. Weren't you?"
"Yes...but I couldn't leave her there! She'd have died, if I did!"
"Which is why we're having this conversation now, Kishayi," Bakaru told him firmly. "Even though you haven't said it, I'm sure that, for a brief moment, your heart wavered. For an instant you wondered whether it would be safer to leave the Outsider alone to die on the mountain, so she couldn't hurt your safe life here?"
Ice pierced through Kishayi's heart at this, and at the look in his eyes, Bakaru nodded his head.
"You see," he said softly. "You do not have to be evil to think of evil things."
Kishayi buried his head in his hands, and Bakaru patted him gently on the back.
"But you did save her, so it is not too late to break through that prejudice and stem your fear," he continued. "I hoped that Arina would be the one to do it, when you showed such attention to her when she first arrived. And I know that her magic book scared you - but it did not harm you, and you've had no reason to think that it would. Arina is not an enemy. She has no weapons, and she's not even from this world, let alone the places that enslaved your mother. She's a true stray - a world away from her family and everything she knows. She has many more reasons to be afraid than you - don't you think?"
Kishayi ran his fingers through his thick silver hair.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked at length. "It's not like I can go up to her and just have a conversation. I can say I'm sorry, but she won't understand me. And I can't understand her, either, so how am I supposed to even try?"
"I'm not going to tell you to do anything," Bakaru told him soberly. "It's not my job to order you to look after her, or befriend her in any way. It's for your sake that I want you to find your own resolve in this matter. This is your chance to prove you are a man now, not a child. And that you are not polluted by a past you don't even remember. Noone has ever hurt you, Kishayi. Noone has ever beaten or whipped you or chained you in irons. You should not act as though they have."
Kishayi was silent for a moment, digesting this. Then he nodded his head.
"I am scared," he admitted. "Arina is not like us. And I did think it...on the mountain. That maybe I shouldn't help her. But I knew I had to. I knew I could never hold my head up as a Meihi if I didn't, even though noone would ever have known about it. You're right. I hadn't thought about it like that, but if I had let her die there, because of my fears, I would've been doing something as bad as the people who hate us because we're Meihi. Wouldn't I?"
"I'm glad you can see that," Bakaru agreed. "And as I said, it isn't too late for you to change your perspective."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Arina is upset that you're upset and avoiding her," he added. "She's lonely and she admitted earlier that she's feeling homesick. She almost set herself on fire because of it, too - the reason she's here with burns on her hand is partly because she's been neglected and she feels left out. Even though you don't speak the same language, Kishayi, she was happier when you were spending time with her. And I thought you were happy about it, too."
"It was that book," Kishayi owned. "The magic book. It glowed when I made to touch it, and I didn't understand why."
"I don't understand it, either," Bakaru acknowledged. "Not entirely, although I have been thinking about it very carefully since. The only thing I'm sure of at the moment is that Arina is stranded in this world and you were the one that rescued her. I don't think things like that happen by coincidence. Its a sign that it's time to face your fears and look after that girl. Let her teach you about her world and her language, and you teach her about ours. When you get stuck, your mother and I are there to translate or advise. But it has to come from you, Kishayi. You have to decide for yourself. Arina will leave here in a week or two, . You have to find your own resolve about what to do."
Kishayi frowned, digesting this carefully. Then he nodded.
"I asked her to come with me to my copse, the other day," he said at length. "I should keep my promise, that's what Meihi do."
"Good boy," Bakaru chuckled, nodding his head. "Do you want me to convey the message, or can you do it yourself?"
"I'll try," Kishayi glanced back at the table of half-stripped herbs, scooping a couple of them up in his hands. "If Mikoyi-sensei will let me leave here early, I'll try now. I don't want to be a coward, Bakaru. And I don't want to be in a situation where I'm thinking things as horrible as that. Arina isn't anything to do with slaves."
"And nor are you, Kishayi. Nor are you," Bakaru reminded him. "Let those scars die with the generation before, all right? Don't let them shackle you too."
"I'll try not to." Despite himself, Kishayi returned the smile with a rueful grin of his own. "Thank you, Bakaru-san. I think...you've said things I need to think about. A lot. And I intend to do that. I promise."
"Then I've no longer anything to disappoint me," Bakaru winked at him, and Kishayi felt his resolve strengthen inside of him. Clasping the herbs more tightly in his hands, he pushed back the fabric divide, stepping into the workshop once more.
Arina was about to leave as he entered, but at the sight of him she paused, eying him uncertainly.
"Kishayi-kun?"
Kishayi faltered for a moment, meeting Mikoyi's gaze, and the physician smiled, gesturing to him to go ahead. Kishayi nodded, then stepped forward, holding out the herbs as he did so.
"Will you come with me, to my copse?" he asked slowly, as she stared at him in clear confusion. "I promised to take you and I want to keep my word."
Arina frowned, and Kishayi stretched out his arm to touch her unburned hand, placing the herb stems gently across her palm. He eyed her for a moment, then pointed to her, back to himself, and then to the herbs. He smiled, gesturing to the door beyond, and Arina's eyes widened in sudden comprehension. She said something, glancing at the stems in her hand, and then clutching them firmly as she nodded her head. At the glimmer of hope in her expression, Kishayi felt something clench inside of him and inwardly he berated himself for having been so blind. It was as Bakaru had said, he realised. The girl had felt his avoidance more deeply than he'd seen, and he chastised himself firmly for forgetting that behind her different appearance beat the same kind of heart as pounded now inside his own chest.
It had been that which had compelled him to save her, he remembered. Her pulse, beating gently against his touch.
He brushed his finger against the herbs.
"Herahisa." he said clearly, and Arina glanced up.
"Hera...hisa?" she repeated softly, and Kishayi nodded. Carefully and self-consciously he slipped his hand around her wrist, leading her out into the cold village beyond. All the time he was aware that his mentor and the village elder were both watching them, and so, he imagined, were many of the other village residents as he took their unusual guest along the frozen trackway towards the boundary that led to the forestland beyond. Yet somehow the unsettled feeling he had had for the past two days had begun to fade now he was once more alongside her. In some way, he reflected, it was as though being in Arina's company made him less afraid of the outside world and all the dangers that lurked there. Arina was not Meihi, but she was also not an enemy. And maybe, even if they could only speak through gestures and pictures, he could try to call her friend.
It was not till they reached the edges of the woodland that Arina spoke again, resting her hand briefly on the trunk of a tree as she glanced at him questioningly. For a moment Kishayi frowned, then, as he registered her question, light dawned in his beautiful amethyst eyes.
"Shahi," he said softly, running his finger up and down the tree's raggedy bark as if to emphasise his meaning. Arina frowned, as if committing it to memory.
"Sha...hi," she murmured, her pronunciation making the word sound strangely foreign to his ears. Then, "Tree."
She patted the trunk hard.
"Tree."
"T..ree?" Kishayi echoed, and Arina nodded, a grin touching her lips. Despite himself, Kishayi found he was returning her enthusiasm, as he realised they had begun once again the show and tell language lesson they had so abruptly abandoned two days earlier.
True, it was only the most basic form of communication. But it was communication of a sort at the very least. And suddenly Kishayi realised that he truly wanted to communicate with her - that more than anything he wanted to understand the things this strange waif had to say.
As this thought crossed his mind, he felt a warmth buzz through him and he faltered, uncertain as to how to interpret the sudden sensation of security and belonging that had begun to penetrate his senses. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he glanced at her, squeezing her wrist gently as he realised she was the source of that sensation.
They could not speak the same language, and yet somehow, out here in the snow, they had formed a bond.
He gestured up ahead, running his fingers along the branches of the trees as he pushed each one back out of the way to create a pathway through.
"Be careful." He instructed, and though Arina could not understand his words, she seemed to read his meaning, for she ducked beneath the branch, following his footsteps exactly as they headed deeper and deeper into the greenery. As they did so, the sky above them began to disappear in a mottled covering of green-flecked branches and, as they arrived at the core, Arina let out an exclamation, bending down to touch the petals of a bravely blooming flower.
Kishayi smiled, nodding his head.
"Lihna," he said softly, squatting down on the ground and indicating the flower. "Lihna."
"Lihna?" Arina grinned, then, "Flower. Flower, Kishayi-kun."
"Flo..wer," Kishayi repeated the unfamiliar word, committing it to memory. Then he ran his fingers underneath the half-opening blossom, coaxing the petals gently into a full and vivid bloom. Arina gasped, staring in disbelief as, slowly but surely the flower opened, raising its head to greet the tiny slivers of light that gleamed through overhead.
The Meihi word was not dissimilar to her name, Kishayi realised, as deftly and cleanly he severed the flower from the main body of the plant, holding it out to his companion. Carefully she took it, then, with a self-conscious smile, she reached up to tuck it into the dark waves of her hair. The contrast of the vivid mountain blue against the ebony of her curls reminded Kishayi of the brief months when lower slopes of Koku-zan thawed and revealed the true colour of the rock beneath. At these more summery times, the blue mountain blossoms could be found dotted here, there and everywhere, and the image made him smile.
Slowly he bowed his head towards her.
"I'm sorry that I've made you feel left out," he said sincerely. "I'm a coward, and I didn't mean to upset you. But I won't do it any more. I promise. So long as you're here, Arina, I'll look after you, however I can, and even if it's hard for us to talk to one another. I'm not going to be afraid of you...I know you're not here to hurt me. Even if there are things about you I don't understand - I think I'd like to learn. And even though, right now, you don't understand me...maybe somehow I'll find a way to explain this to you without having to do it through someone else. Because I'd like to tell you, face to face. And I'd like you to tell me too, about your world."
At the sudden stream of soft, gentle Meihi, Arina looked startled, then she reached out to rest her hand on his shoulder. She said something, then got to her feet, moving across to explore the rest of the small copse.
Her response had been brief, Kishayi realised, but somehow he knew that he had been forgiven.
"I'm glad I saved her," he decided, as he watched her examine each unfamiliar plant with the curiosity of a small child. "Bakaru was right. If I hadn't, I would have been a poor excuse for a human being, let alone a Meihi. It is time I faced this fear, and I haven't liked being at odds with her these past two days. I don't understand it, yet, but I feel like I was meant to save her. That it was because she was there that I was drawn here at that time even though there was a blizzard drawing in. I was meant to save Arina, and maybe, I was meant to learn from her. So I will. If I can, I will."
He glanced up at the heavy tree branches, squinting through at the brief snatches of sky overhead.
"If that's what you want for me, Bali-sama, then that's what I intend to do."