Chapter Thirty-Six: Pawn To Black King
If it was possible, Erik would make sure that he'd never see another blizzard again.
Sleep didn't come easy during the heights of the storm; with the sound of whipping wind outside and small balls of ice raining upon the tile roof, he couldn't help but wonder if the whole house was going to blow away. Only thing louder than the storm itself was the clicking of his teeth, at least until he collected all the extra furs to bring them to his room. Both Nio and Dakuro found great amusement watching him literally waddle around until he decided to remain in his room, coming out only when food was served and practice was needed – a thing he looked forward to for all the strenuous moving allowed him to warm up considerably until he was stripped down to his hakama, breathing heavily and dripping with sweat. Only to be frozen again moments later.
A week ago, during the turn of the month, the storm had simply...stopped. If it hadn't been for the great snow mounds upon the sides of the house one would think that it never existed to begin with. "It is part of the training," Dakuro had told him when he tossed him a shovel so he could help clear the base of the house and the path as well. He failed to see just how that was possible, but when his muscles began burning, he fully understood that it would help strengthen him, and surprisingly kept him warm as well, despite being in shin deep in snow.
With his plain white hemmed black awase donned as well as a thick jacket, he fingered the straps of his mask. As little as he took it off, he wasn't aware that it had been frayed – perhaps when Kito had yanked it off of his face. Replaced now with a white domino, the same he wore in Russia, he believed it was time for a bit of a change. The black felt fitting during his last weeks within Persia, his mood darkening, enticed by the hashish and opium. But now...he felt differently, regardless of still being slave to the potent drug.
The mask placed to his bedding to be fixed later, he strode to the paneled screen and pressed it open. "Anna? Are you ready?" he called out gently into the house. While the snow hadn't completely melted away, the noon-day sun was warm, and he wanted to take advantage of this break in blistering cold to tend to some errands, and perhaps check on the state of the buildings as well. Even though he knew to work upon them during the winter was unproductive – Dakuro agreed as well – he was still disappointed in himself that he didn't get at least something done besides perfecting the designs.
Spring would soon come, he hoped. His routine was becoming too familiar and he longed for some type of change.
In her small room, Anna was finishing up dressing.
Today she was finally getting out of the house after being confined by the frigid weather for nearly a month now. While the air outside remained cold, it was nowhere near the freezing temperatures of the previous month. Spring was on its way and soon the ground would be soggy with the melted snow and the first growth of tender shoots of grass and native flowers. Spring was a beautiful season in Japan...except for the rain. The rainy reasons were near torrential downpours and it only meant that the majority of her time would be spent on all fours cleaning up muddy messes. But she also found summer to simply be too hot...
Sighing a bit to herself, as she reached to pull the length of gray linen obi off her shoulder to bind about her waist, her eyes drew over to her bed and the small pouch laid there. Her brows drew down in a soft frown. She still could not believe it that Mistress Nio had given her a small allowance for this trip to the markets. She'd said that she felt Anna deserved a bit of her own money from time to time and to make certain she bought herself something nice. What on earth will I buy? In all the fifteen years she'd been under the Kyomi's roof, she'd not been given any kind of money or gift...
Only one present had been given to her and it lay spread upon her bed, the glistening dark fur pelt a comforting warmth that had kept her from chilling too badly this winter. And if she curled into it at night and imagined to herself that it still held a remnant of his warmth...then it was no one's affair but her own.
Shook from her foolish thoughts, she lifted her head at the sound of Erik's gentle call and bent to finish securing the obi. Smoothing the sleeves of the gray awase, she reached for her coat, a simple jacket that fell to her ankles. Slipping her pouch of money into the pocket of the coat, she lifted a hand to press along the tightly bound back bun of her hair, then stepped from the room sliding shut her screen and crossed to his own. Stepping within, she looked up at him and gave him a surprised glance than a warm smile that reached the eyes that matched her clothing perfectly, calm and misty gray this morning.
"I like that new mask, Erik. It suits the dark of your hair nicely." She folded closed the sash of her jacket. "I'm ready to leave whenever you are."
"It is not precisely new," he murmured, shuffling through his pouch to ensure that he had the proper amount of coin. He didn't know how much it would cost, or if he had to pay when he gave the order, bbut was bringing plenty with him for just in case purposes.
"I made this one while I was in Russia." Closing the pouch he tucked it into his jacket and glanced over to her. He looked her over a moment, then nodded as she appeared to be bundled up nicely. Stepping out of his room he made his way to the front door and pulled it to the side with a soft hiss of the sliding screen. Pulling the jacket close to his neck he took in a deep breath – while he might not like the chill of winter, the scents of the surrounding land were refreshing, seemingly heightened by the frigid temperatures.
Tucking his hands into his sleeves he stepped down the stairs and started off down the recently shoveled path. "I do hope you are prepared for a bit of a walk. I would like to check on the buildings either before, or after the trip to the market." Perhaps a short visit to Kaleb needed to be made as well. While Erik had been exposed to cold weather – given, nothing as harsh as this winter – the Persian was far too use to his blistering sands and scorching winds, broken only by a rare case of rain. The man was probably frozen stiff.
"Russia?" she asked, tilting her head up to his, her eyes curious. A soft musing sound came within her throat as she pulled her boots on and secured them mid calf. "You seemed to have been everywhere, Erik. Will you tell me someday about Russia?"
The chill of the afternoon air hit her as soon as the front door was opened, but it was tempered by the warmth of the sun that shone overhead, turning the snow to diamonds and so much sugar about them. Lifting her chin to the warmth, her eyes closed gratefully and a low 'mm' was in her throat.
"I have missed feeling heat so badly! I can only imagine what it must be like for you, coming directly from such a hot place..." Stepping off onto the dirt road, still frozen and hard packed, at least their knees were not buried in the snow that had covered the ground previously; Erik had been to thank for that and she'd been grateful; last year it had been her and the lazy stable lad shoveling.
Looking up to face him again, she gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders, her chin dropping back to the ground. "I have no place in which to mind it to begin with, Erik, but I would not complain even if I did. I've needed to get out of the house and a long walk, hard though it may be, is just what I need."
"It is murder," he grunted, glancing over the grounds that the snow covered. He almost considered taking the horses but wasn't prepared to stand in the cold stable trying to saddle the animals. "I do not recall ever seeing so much snow in my life." Rather enjoying how it crunched beneath his feet, he purposely – but discretely – sought out the thicker mounds of snow, just to feel it compact under his step and bring the gritty sound into the air.
A walk would do them well. Even though he had been practicing every day, this allowed him to warm up his legs by actually going somewhere instead of moving around in a smallish area. Lowering his eyes to the ground he let his thoughts drift to his prior travels, to Russia.
"I cannot say that I had lived within the rich country sides, or towering spires as you might have heard in tales and the like.." Lifting a hand he made an idle gesture as if brushing off the thought of the decrepit city, and tucked his fingers back into the jacket's sleeves, curling around his narrow wrist. "I had preferred to live in rather...disreputable surroundings, making my presence known as a magician. I was the best there, you see. Though, unfortunately, my reign did not last as long as I would have liked."
He shrugged, turning a glance down toward her. "What I did get to see of Russia's landscape could not be compared to that of Japan. The winters were cold, yes. But I tended to remain in doors, tinkering with my inventions; having little desire to linger around the masses unless it was for performance. And even then, afterwards, I returned to my tent."
Just the thought of the tent brought to mind the fragrant oils and incense that used to weigh heavily within the room, one that was shrouded completely in blood red. He recalled the first meeting with the Daroga, and couldn't help but allow a ghost of a wry smile appear upon his lips.
"This has most certainly been one of our hardest winters yet. I don't know if every winter will be quite this bad, but..." she shrugged one snugly wrapped shoulder, tilting her face up to his far above her. "The snow is beautiful in its own way."
Bending as they walked, she scooped up a mound of snow in her bare hands, briefly lamenting that she didn't have a pair of gloves, and began smoothing and patting the sphere between her fingers. A faint blush covered her cheeks and she laughed softly, before nodding gently.
"I admit; what I have heard of Russia was all manner of grand buildings with striped spheres, men in fur hats, czars, and fairytales in the countryside. But I suppose when you are a child, you only hear of such..." Trailing off on the memory of Mama reading storied by her bedside, her small form nearly lost in the covers, listening avidly, she cleared her throat and continued to roll the ball, forming a perfect sphere of crystal white.
A fascinated expression was tilted up to him and she raised her brows with a smile. "A magician?" Would he never cease to amaze her, enthrall her with all that he was? "I have never seen magic performed...And you were the best? I would very much like to see you perform one day..." She looked down at the sphere, her fingertips now frozen through and going scarlet with the cold.
"What did your performances consist of?" Tossing the ball of snow back and forth in her hands, she lifted her gaze to his.
His shoulders lifted in an elegant shrug, and he looked forward again, watching the path they were taking. "Simple illusions," he began, then pulling a hand out from the sleeve, he side glanced toward her, and in mid-toss of the sphere, it vanished in a snatch. He splayed his impossibly long, thin fingers, turned his hands over, then pulled back his sleeves. Anna gave her hands a bewildered look, then stared at his own, even peered into his empty sleeves.
By all appearances, the ball had vanished.
"Slight of hand," he murmured. A soft roll of delighted laughter erupted from her when he turned one fragile wrist and there the sphere was, balanced delicately upon his fingertips. Taking it gently with two careful fingers, she studied it, turning it in her hands and noted the marks of her own touch. He shrugged, tucking his hand away again. "Things of that nature. Sometimes I played...and sang."
'Show us your face, Erik, and let us hear the devil sing!'
Though it had been a few years, the words of the surging crowd were still rang in his ears as if it was but yesterday. He tucked his hand again, clinging to his wrist loosely and hardly noticing at the chill that lingered. Silent, his regard of the path was almost vacant.
"Simple..." she mused, grinning. "Nothing such as that could ever be simple to me. It would take me months to learn such a thing!" Rolling the ball again between her hands, she gave him a curious glance, her brow furrowing slightly.
"I have heard you sing once...long ago. It was your first night here," she said quietly, remembering the fire light of Ryoko's home, the notes of music drifting on the air, and the wordless melody of that incredible, beautiful voice...A soft smile passed her lips.
"You were only humming...but your voice..." Suddenly realizing that her own voice had become soft with the memories, she blushed hotly and turned away. With one last toss of snow ball into the air, she threw it high into the air, then watched it come down with a resounding splatter.
Pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the snowball's death, he glanced down at it as they passed, then rose his eyes to her face. "Enjoyed my voice, did you?" Beneath the white silk a brow lifted, and he forced a wan smile to his lips before looking forward again. Adjusting his jacket he fought down a shiver and released a gust of mist into the air from his nostrils. Why did the winter have to be so bloody cold?
Straying from the slightly worn path that would lead them to the markets, he directed them to where the first of the buildings were located; already he could see one in the distance. "I cannot say I have sang much since then. I have been too preoccupied with our teachings and the buildings." Where it wasn't something he wholly looked forward to before – the designs of these buildings seemed almost tame compared to the work he had done in Persia – he couldn't hardly wait until the seasons turned.
He was growing bored of being idle beyond the renewed training.
Walking beside of him, she let a soft smile come to her face as she studied the way the snow grew softer here, a less taken path by others in the village, and the tiny flurries that drifted up with every step.
"Yes, I enjoyed your voice. I think it would be impossible not to. You...you should sing again, Erik." She shrugged one gray clad shoulder as if it meant nothing to her. "I, at least, would like to hear you." When will you learn to keep your mouth closed?
Frowning disgruntledly, she lifted her eyes to where they were headed, the path here completely untrodden, the snow perfect, rolling away like a field of glistening sugar, the branches of trees above them heavy with the clumping of it. Nearly silent, peace hung heavy in the air here, as if the world waited for something in a breathless hush. Following him, stepping softly as if she was almost afraid to disturb it, her gaze drew up to the building in the distance.
"I don't believe I've ever seen your buildings before. I've seen your designs on occasion..." The house, distant as it was, already looked as if it would be one of the most elaborate in the village or the surrounding areas. It would belong to one of the influential families, no doubt, perhaps even Kito and his future wife...unfortunate woman whoever she may be. Snorting softly, she shook her head softly and tucked her hands within her sleeves to follow him.
"They are not exactly how I desire them, though they will be once the winter breaks. Undoubtedly my ideas for the designs will completely change...a terrible habit, I am afraid." He shrugged his shoulders, turning his eyes up to the sky. "The families will be able to move in soon enough. Perhaps by then even dearest Kito will find himself a woman." Where has that boy been anyway?
Pursing thin lips he dropped his gaze again and began kneading at his wrists within the sleeves of his jacket, warming them as well as his fingers. Perhaps we are lucky and he fell into a drunk sleep outside. Smirking softly he shook his head then dampened his lips. "I am quite disappointed that the weather has stilled all progress. I had a completion date set."
She turned her eyes up to his as they moved down to the building and rolled her eyes slightly.
"He is supposed to marry one of Hoshi's daughters, his eldest. Master Kyomi drew up the marriage contract only a day or two before he disappeared." She frowned lightly, then reached up to rub at her nose, the tip turning a brightened red with the chill of the air. Working her fingers over the curve, she sniffed, a damp, unpleasant sound, then tucked her hand back within her sleeve. She'd woken that morning with a chill, more so than usual, and her brow a little clammy. She usually caught a bad cold every winter, but so far she'd been lucky and hadn't gotten ill. It seemed her luck was running out.
Clearing her throat, she stepped over a snow covered log, then caught back up with him. "I wonder where he's gone...It's unusual for him to risk leaving in this cold of weather." Shaking her head, she looked toward the building.
"Spring will come soon. If I know you...", she chuckled, continuing: "You'll barely show yourself at the table for working till sundown to finish on time."
"Mm, yes. Though I cannot say that my workers have the same stamina as I do. They will wish to go home and be with their families; Kaleb will remain, but even he has to indulge in sleep. While I may be determined to finish at the date I set I am only human. It will not be possible without assistance."
He had to be a comical sight to the natives. While they walked around in their winter clothing – which was only a bit thicker than their summer – he was bundled from head to foot. More than once he had been poked fun of, but he didn't mind too much; he knew he looked ridiculous, but it was better than freezing.
Squinting his eyes closed at a gust of wind that stirred up the fine powder below them, he lifted a hand to wipe the bit of snow from his chin and jaw, then tucked his fingers back within the sleeve just before pausing in front of the first house. Studying it quietly, he frowned behind the mask, then turned his gaze in the direction of Kaleb's house that rested not too far from the lot. "This one will have to be redone," he murmured as he turned back to the house. "It is not coming along as I had initially planned."
She turned and studied the house, but to her untrained eye, she could find not fault in the design or progress, but he knew best, so she kept her mouth closed and merely nodded in agreement. Sighing softly, she studied the house, and a thought occurred to her, one which she'd never really explored...
She'd never have a house of her own...She'd never have a place that was hers. She'd never have a husband to hold her or make love to her, a family to belong to...children to nurture and raise. None in this land would ever want a foreign wife. She'd not be good enough for anyone's son...
The thought brought a sudden wave of grief over her, and she swallowed tightly over the knot in her throat. Closing her eyes, she turned back to him, tilting her chin back to study him. They will wish to go home and be with their families...Was he not in the same situation? A foreigner, no place that was his, no wife...Could he want...her?
Berating herself for even thinking of such a thing, she looked back to the house. "I think it's a beautiful place."
One brow lifted, and though she couldn't see it she could hear it in his voice. "You do? Though it is hardly finished." Lifting a hand he gestured toward the snow covered building with a light fan of thin fingers. "How can you find beauty in something that is incomplete? Imperfect?"
Pressing his fingers back within the sleeve of his jacket, he adjusted the drape of the cloth and fur with a roll of his shoulders, then turned away when he came to realize that the question struck a little too close to home. He knew she accepted him, his face – at least when she didn't have to look at it – but any thing more? The concept was laughable, even if he couldn't bring the emotion to his lips.
Shuffling through the snow dunes, he approached the small hovel and cast a glance upward to see if there was smoke coming from the house due to a lit furnace. Nodding lightly to himself he lifted a hand to knock upon the door without looking back to see if she followed.
She stepped back and looked at the building once more, then slowly lifted her eyes up to his. Her brows drew down, then softened with a sad smile that lifted the corners of her mouth.
Don't you understand, Erik? Hadn't she shown it? Couldn't he see it in her face when he looked at her? But...but maybe he didn't want to see it. Why would he? Yet, she still felt she had to tell him. But...but not today. Maybe not ever. Yet, as she turned away to follow him to the much smaller house of his friend:
"Perhaps it is because I see what it will be when it is finished. Or...or I simply find that that there is beauty within it despite its imperfections, regardless of what others think of it." Turning her eyes to the ground, she waited while he knocked.
He glanced toward her out of the corner of one gold-hued eye in a way that made her feel a bit uncomfortable and she ducked her head to watch her feet shuffle back and forth within the snow. Erik's gaze turned forward again when Kaleb came to the door, also bundled up with a tin cup between his hands, its contents steaming.
A smile curled his mustached lips and he nodded lightly to Erik, speaking within his native tongue. He hadn't quite grasped Japanese yet. "Good morning, Erik. Come, come," he motioned them in and paused, looking down to Anna – who furrowed her brow at the strange, musical language – then to the taller man that swept past him to enter the warm home.
"Should I speak English then, I wouldn't wish to be rude." Trying not to laugh as the architect crouched at the heat and held his hands out toward the metal, he turned to Anna again with a greeting smile at the consenting nod from the suddenly silent man. "Welcome, please, make yourself comfortable." Unclasping the cup with one hand, he motioned to the sparsely furnished room then returned his fingers to the warmth of the drink as he took a sip.
She looked up at him, relieved when he spoke English. "Thank you, sir," she said softly, then moved to a small chair that sat in one corner and perched upon the edge, her hands clasped in her lap. She cast a questioning look over at Erik, wondering why he had suddenly grown so silent. Looking down to study her hands, she wondered if she had simply said...too much.
His hands were nearly frozen through. His nose he could swear was about to fall off. His feet...he no longer felt them at all. The unhappy horse beneath him was trembling with the cold, misty breaths exhaled from the large nostrils.
Yet, Kito felt none of it.
All he felt was a heavy sense of triumph. His eyes narrowed and a smile, one containing no warmth, spread across his face under the muffler of thick wool.
He'd made it...
Far below him on the mountain's side, shielded by trees now dead and stripped of their leaves, but heavy with snow, sat a village, half-hidden by the shadow. This is where I belong...
Mouth turning into an almost feline grin, he started off down the slope.