TWO
After a long, thoughtful pause, Jack turned around. He walked back, pulled up a stool, and sat down. "I'm listening. How did you find this thing?"
"Four--no, now it's closer to five--months ago I was attacked by Kurando. You know Kurando?"
"No."
"He is--was--one of Aku's more highly placed minions. Had an idea he knew how to use a tachi sword." Mad Jack smiled. "Had a further idea he'd hunt you down and kill you with something akin to your own weapon. He mistook me for you." Mad Jack must have seen Samurai Jack's annoyance at that idea, for his wicked smile broadened. "It happens quite often. In a way, I owe you half my kills.
"Kurando attacked me in the night, I wounded him. He fled. At daylight I followed the blood trail to what at first glance appeared to be the door of a natural cavern. Even your limited intelligence may perceive how surprised I was when the trail led back down into the Pit. After I killed Kurando and left, I stayed in the area for a few days, resting up from a wound." Mad Jack lowered his blanket long enough to display a recent scar across his middle, slightly above the waistline. "It was a shallow cut, but you know how it is when you're cut there. Nearly every time you move it'll come open."
Jack did indeed know, and for a brief moment, warrior to warrior, their understanding met.
"So I waited, and I noticed that that door was taking an unusually long time to vanish. Normally Aku moves them around very frequently."
How well Jack knew.
"So I did not move on. I stayed in the general area, and checked on the door every two, three days. In three months, it never moved. I am as certain as I can be, without watching it for years, that it never moves. I am certain enough that I want to go back there. I think it's the quickest way to catch Aku and settle accounts."
"Can you describe the terrain?"
"Get me something to draw with."
Jack borrowed paper and ink, brush and bed tray, from the monks. Mad Jack eased his arm out of the sling. "Support my elbow." He dipped the brush in the ink with his left hand, transferred it to his right, and began to sketch. "I keep a bearing on this place wherever I go. It is one hundred ten miles southeast of here. The people in the area call those mountains the Blue Mountains. There is a village here... here... here..." The brush flew. "Overall, it's sparsely populated, but there's a fairly large town twenty-nine miles north-northwest of the mountains. Akuville. I've been there before. There are wanted posters of you all over town. When I'm in the mood to kill many warriors, I go there and wait to be mistaken for you. It rarely takes long. If we were on business, though, you and I would have to pass through discreetly, probably disguised.
"Terrain is relatively easy and level until you are about sixteen miles from the door. From there, the elevation increases; you're climbing steadily. It's tricky in the autumn, which is when I was there, but not beyond a samurai." Mad Jack's red eyes gleamed. "Are you with me?"
"Hardly. I do not trust you. If you have been in the Pit, why did you not kill Aku while you were there?"
"I have tried. He resides deep within the Pit, surrounded by layers of guards. Even I could not fight my way through them; I was forced to retreat. Through one of the movable doors, that's how I came to this area. I saw no point in returning to the Pit alone, and there's a shortage of warriors willing to chase Aku into its depths. Or there was until now."
Jack waited.
"Don't you see? Even you must see! Alone, I almost did it. Together, we could do it." The red eyes held his. "I believe we could even get back out."
"Guards at the stationary door?"
"Plenty. I killed twenty-eight before I became too busy to continue to count."
"How might we find Aku once we got in? How big is the Pit? The longer we must search the greater our chance of being stopped."
"The Pit is a big place, but it's also quite busy. If you go in discreetly--"
"Discreetly as in killing twenty-eight guards?"
"I didn't say I killed them loudly!" Mad Jack said, annoyed. "I was very quiet. Now, as I was trying to say before you interrupted me, Aku resides somewhere near the center of the Pit. I don't know exactly where, I have never got that far in. But if we keep heading towards the center, we'll find him."
"No, I don't think so. I believe I'll continue to search for the gate of time that has been seen in this area," Jack said, and waited to see what reaction he'd get.
Mad Jack laughed. "Don't tell me that even you would fall for that story! Do you know how many places that thing has been 'spotted?' Most people wouldn't know the thing if they fell into it! Aerocars, weather satellites...even the full moon has been mistaken for that thing. You might as well let somebody tell you how to get to the end of a rainbow."
"You have made your point. And I have in fact seen nothing that resembles it."
"Nor are you likely to."
Jack had an unpleasant feeling that the doppelganger was speaking the truth. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If the gate cannot be found around here, yours is the best lead I have...but it comes from you, and I do not trust you."
"You've as much reason to trust me as I have to trust you. You wanted to kill me too, remember? And you thought you had succeeded.--Look," Mad Jack said impatiently. "I am not proposing that we start treating each other as long-lost brothers. The very idea disgusts me. I am proposing that we suspend hostilities long enough to destroy our common enemy. I still don't think either of us can defeat the other, but if you want to try I will be quite happy to fight you the moment Aku's head has fallen."
Jack thought it over a long time. "If this door exists, I know I'll need someone to show me where it is. One could wander around those mountains for a lifetime... All right," he said after more thought. "I accept your proposal. With the proviso that still I do not trust you, and if I even suspect that you are trying to betray me or ambush me, I shall indeed kill you, and this time I won't make the mistake of trying to think you away. This time I will chop you into the smallest pieces possible."
Mad Jack looked amused.
"If you are still amenable to a temporary truce under those conditions, we may begin whenever you like."
"Begin now."
Jack went back out and told the monks that his "brother" did not want him to leave him.
Four days later they departed the monastery. Although Mad Jack had seemed to be making some minimal effort to behave himself, perhaps to show his sincerity about the joint undertaking, his brush with death had not improved his overall disposition in the slightest, and the good monks had trouble concealing their delight that they were going to be rid of him. Jack didn't blame them. As he straightened up from his final farewell bow, Brother Adrian clapped him on the shoulder and murmured, "We'll pray for you."
Still convalescing, Mad Jack was not yet up to a normal day's march, but that was all right. There was no hurry; they could not enter the Pit until he was able to fight. They went perhaps eight miles southeast, then made camp for the night, dining off the food the kind monks had sent along, and began planning their campaign. Their first step was to take inventory of their weapons. Between them, they had two swords, two fully automatic pistols each holding twenty-two .218 explosive rounds in double clips, two hundred fourteen rounds of ammunition, six throwing stars, one dagger, and one hunting knife.
"Where did you get all this?" Jack asked.
"The hunting knife I took from a dead minion," Mad Jack replied. "I won the rest."
He must be exceedingly lucky in contests. "What about your sword? Has it any magic in it that can be used against Aku?"
"I believe so. He would have no other reason to fear me."
"But you aren't sure."
"No."
"Then we should assume it has no magic, unless, until, we see hard evidence otherwise." Jack smiled faintly. "That way any surprises we get will be pleasant ones. For now, I think we should plan that the best use for your sword will be to get my enchanted sword close enough to Aku that I can use it."
"Agreed." Mad Jack regarded the weapons spread out on the grass before him. "What do you want?"
He could have done nothing more likely to convince his suspicious partner of his sincerity... then again, he was bright enough to think of that... Jack shook his head faintly, frustrated; how hard it was to, in effect, second-guess yourself.
Mad Jack caught the gesture. "You want none of them?"
"Excuse me, please. I was thinking. You keep the guns. I have had little practice with guns." Jack hefted the dagger. It was a good weapon, well-balanced, comfortable in his hand. "I can use this." He sheathed it and tucked it into his belt.
"You might as well take the hunting knife too. I won't be skinning anything for a while."
Jack took the hunting knife. Mad Jack tucked one gun into his gi, then used the other to teach Jack how to load it, unload it, break it down, and clean it. When they finished, Jack put it back together, and Mad Jack put it in his left pocket. He stuffed the boxes of ammunition into his underwear; a sensible move, since the guns wouldn't be much use if the ammunition were lost, but likely to be most uncomfortable. No wonder he was so cranky. Jack put the stars into his right pocket for him. If he couldn't reach those in an emergency, it wouldn't matter much; throwing stars were little more than a backup weapon, not nearly as uncannily accurate as most people thought. Jack himself rarely bothered with them.
Their discussion moved on to other types of gear. Both men had been in the higher elevations of the Blue Mountains in late autumn, both had come unpleasantly close to freezing to death there, so on one matter, if on no other, they were in hearty agreement: this time they wanted some cold-weather gear. Since they couldn't count upon happening on, killing, and plundering a bounty hunter or minion who would have either the gear or the money to buy it, they agreed to keep an eye out for other ways to earn money.
The next morning, nineteen miles southeast of the monastery, they came upon an apple orchard at whose front gate there was a sign advertising that help was needed with the harvest. The pay was only two plix per barrel, but it was a start, and the fringe benefits were attractive to itinerant ronin: mat space indoors at night, breakfast in the morning, and all the apples you cared to eat throughout the day. They signed up.
Mad Jack picked neatly and quickly for an hour and then fainted; he was not yet well enough for such work. Jack managed to bring him around sufficiently to get him behind some bushes, out of sight, before the overseer came through.
Mad Jack sat up on his elbow, shaking his head. "We'll have to try something else during the day."
"This area isn't exactly a hotbed of activity," Jack pointed out. "Look, you keep out of sight and I'll pick for both of us until you're able. That will allow you to sleep indoors so you'll mend faster. I want you ready for combat as soon as possible."
"All right," Mad Jack said after a moment's thought. "And I'll see what I can do today."
Jack didn't quite understand that last remark, but since he was now working for two, he didn't take time to ask for an explanation, but returned to his picking. Even though he had to go much faster than he had been, he still enjoyed the day; the weather was sunny, still, and cool, and apple-picking was the kind of mindless task in which one could become caught up, resting the mind from worries and frustrations. Jack fell into the Zenlike rhythm of it, and by the time the overseer called a halt for the day, he had filled nineteen baskets. He watched the overseer moving through the orchard, accompanied by a robot drone that collected baskets.
"Nineteen!" the overseer said, impressed.
"Nine. My brother picked the other ten. I don't pick quite as fast as he."
The overseer looked around. "Where is he?"
"He had to excuse himself suddenly."
"People get carried away with those free apples. I guess I can trust you to pay him, you're his brother." The overseer handed over three decaplix notes and eight singles, and moved on. Jack went to clean up, and then to stake out a double spot in the long, barracks-like building where he was to spend the night, though there would probably be plenty of room. Half the pickers who had started that morning had not finished the day. Jack prowled the length of the room, looking for a spot where one could see all possible avenues of incoming attack.
The door opened and six naked men walked in.
"This is not the bath house," Jack advised. "So far as I know, there is none. I had to make do with a pump in the yard."
The naked men all looked unhappy. Finally one of them said, "Sir? Can you please get your brother to let us have our clothes back?"
"What?" Jack said.
The man sighed. "We got tired of picking so we sneaked in here to rest for a while. Your brother was in here, toying with some dice, and... well..."
Mad Jack walked in balancing two bento boxes in the crook of his left arm. He leaned close so Jack could take one, saying "Eat. You can't stay in fighting condition living on apples."
"Do you have their clothes?" Jack asked.
"No." Mad Jack sat down on the floor against the wall and opened his bento. Appetizing smells drifted out. "Eat."
"You must be mistaken," Jack said to the men, although he didn't see how they could be; surely there couldn't be two red-eyed samurai around here.
"He did win our clothes!" the man protested.
Jack looked at Mad Jack.
"I did," Mad Jack agreed, and continued to eat.
"Where are they?"
"In the village half a mile southwest there's a second-hand store. I cashed in the clothes there."
Looking even more unhappy, the men hurried out. That seemed to be that. Jack sat down and started to eat.
"Did you make any money?" Mad Jack asked.
"Thirty-eight plix."
"So together, we made two hundred sixteen."
Jack paused with a clump of rice halfway to his mouth. "You made one hundred and seventy-eight plix gambling?"
"Do I look as if I'm in a condition to pick eighty-nine baskets of apples?" Mad Jack shook his head in annoyance at Jack's obtuseness. "Look here, most simple of samurai. In addition to the used-clothing store, that town also has a small licensed quarter: taverns, houses of ill repute, a geisha house, a gambling den. I think we should spend the night here. I can do little more here; those men will spread the word."
There were one hundred seventy-eight very good reasons for Jack to accept the proposed change of plan. "Lead on. And you should teach me the game. Two can make more money than one."
"Tomorrow," Mad Jack agreed. "I cannot teach and play for money at the same time; both require concentration. Tonight, sit quietly and observe."
In the gambling den, Jack dutifully observed the dice game. Since time was money, especially to those losing, the game went very fast, too fast for a non-player to understand what was happening without some explanation, and after a while, becoming more and more confused, he gave up on understanding it, at least for tonight. He couldn't leave, in case his unwanted partner needed his help with something, so he alternately girl-watched and chatted with persons awaiting their turn at the table. As the night wore on, he grew more and more sleepy and paid less and less attention to the game; it was all he could do to keep alert for developing trouble. He was glad when Mad Jack finally stood up and they could return to their little rented room. He assembled Mad Jack's bed, then his own, brushed his teeth with his finger, and was asleep as soon as he lay down.
When he woke, the sun was high in the sky. He had slept much later than he usually did. Mad Jack was still asleep. Jack wondered how much, if any, money they had made last night. At the time he had stopped paying attention, Mad Jack had been slightly behind.
As usual, Jack checked all directions for possible attack. Then he went down the hall to the bathroom, returned to the room, got dressed, put his bed away, got dressed, and went out and bought some noodles for breakfast. It was now rising towards noon, but then again, Mad Jack had, so to speak, stood the night watch. Deciding it would be fair to give him another hour, Jack settled down to wait, leaving the other bowl of noodles on the table.
Somebody scratched at the door. Jack got back up, drew his sword, and waited. Another scratch. A female voice called, "O-samurai? Are you in there?"
Jack hadn't conversed with any Japanese-speaking women last night. Keeping his eyes on the door, he backed up and lightly kicked Mad Jack's hip. "Wake up!"
The red eyes opened. "Hai?"
"There's a woman asking for you."
"That's nothing unusual." Yawning, Mad Jack sat up.
"At the door!"
"Oh. It's probably the maiko I won last night." Mad Jack raised his voice. "Come on in!"
The door opened and a tiny apprentice geisha in a pink kimono decorated with white cranes walked in. She also wore the full, white-faced makeup and a towering wig. Closing the door, she set down the furoshiki bundle she carried and bowed to the floor. "Ohayo gozaimashita, o-samurai!"
"Ohayo gozaimasu," Mad Jack said with a perfunctory bow.
"Ohayo gozaimasu." Jack bowed. "Who are you?"
"I am Kiku. Please, o-samurai, what are your names?"
"Jack," they said together, and then glared at each other.
The maiko sat back on her heels, puzzled, glancing from one to the other. "You are both called 'Jack?' Two brothers with the same name? How can that be?"
"Our mother was drunk at the time," Mad Jack said irritably.
Kiku hastily lowered her forehead to the floor. Cautiously looking up, she said, "I mean no offense--but how are you to tell to whom I am speaking if I call your mutual name? May I call you Jack," she said to Samurai Jack, "and you Kuro-Jack?" she said to Mad Jack.
"That's fine," he said impatiently. "Look here, woman, I didn't acquire you with the idea that you'd do nothing but talk all day." Once again, she bowed to the floor. "I acquired you with the idea that you'd be of some use. To start with, when I get back from the toilet, I need my bandage changed." He got up and walked out.
Thoroughly embarrassed that people thought this rude, uncouth man was his brother, Jack pointed silently to the roll of bandaging on the table. Kiku smiled at him. He busied himself putting away the remaining bedding.
When Mad Jack returned, he sat down on the floor and Kiku immediately set to work. "That looks serious, sir."
"It was. It almost killed me."
"Almost," Jack said regretfully. "Look, about winning people in games--"
"My ancestors were with me last night!" Kiku interrupted happily. "I had become desperate enough to try to fight my way out of the geisha house; most likely I'd have been killed, but that would have been better than one more day as a maiko. It's terrible. They hit you all the time and never give you enough to eat. But then my ancestors sent Kuro-Jack-san and his dice. How can I ever thank you, sir?"
"We'll find a way," Mad Jack said.
She glanced at Jack. "I am sorry, Jack-san. I did not mean to interrupt you. I am so filled with happiness at escaping that place alive that my joy bursts forth at inopportune times. What had you started to say?"
"Never mind," he said. If Kiku thought being won as a prize left her better off, it was hardly his place to object. "Kuro-Jack-san, how much money did you win?"
"Five hundred sixty-two plix. And change."
Jack was definitely going to have to learn that game.
Kiku was gently wiggling Mad Jack's upper arm. "Sir, if I may suggest--you had better let me put that joint through its range of motion several times a day, if you want to regain the full use of your arm."
"I've been doing that for him," Jack told her. "Please, take over."
Kiku immediately seized Mad Jack's right elbow and forced his arm straight out to the side. Caught by surprise, he let out a startled yell of pain. She shoved the arm straight up. He blanched and sweat popped out on his forehead. "Hmmm, yes, very stiff," she said. "I will get you some hot towels." She bowed and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
"She's almost as strong as a man!" Mad Jack said, surprised. He stood up, looking towards his clothes. Jack repressed a sigh. The worst time of the day was here; knowing that Mad Jack also probably wasn't looking forward to what was coming was small consolation.
Mad Jack fended for himself as best he could, but there were some things that a person who had virtually no mobility in one arm simply could not do without help. One of those things was getting dressed. Normally Jack had no objection whatever to aiding an injured person in any way necessary, but Mad Jack was a little different. His mere existence made Jack uncomfortable. Touching him gave Jack the crawls, so having to help him dress would have been bad enough if he'd been of an agreeable nature. He was not, so Jack had to put up with being snarled at all through the distasteful task. Mad Jack was particularly testy about his underwear. If Jack wasn't wrapping it too tight, he was wrapping it too loose; if he wasn't (supposedly) giving Mad Jack a wedgie, he was "letting it hang down to my knees, you fool!" Some days there would be three or four rewraps; one day there had been five, and might have been more if Jack hadn't put his foot down, and every single day he had to fight the urge to rip the fundoshi from between Mad Jack's legs and wrap it tightly around his fool neck. As far as Jack was concerned, if Kiku did nothing besides take over the fundoshi fittings, she would be a welcome addition to the expedition. Jack repressed another sigh. Mad Jack wasn't likely to be combat ready for weeks. The depressing prospect of a month, maybe even two, in the creature's company stretched before Jack like a desert he must cross.
Mad Jack was making tiny sawing motions with his right arm. It was evident that it hurt. "When I catch Aku," he said, "I will tear out his liver and shove it down his throat."
"Does he treat all his minions as badly as he treated you?" Jack wondered.
Mad Jack's red eyes blazed. "If you ever call me a minion of his again I'll do my best to tear out your liver. If I would not even submit to you, who at least had the courage to face me in open battle, do you think I'd submit to a coward like Aku?"
"That's a valid point." Jack bowed slightly. "One I had not considered. I meant no insult."
"All right." Mad Jack resumed exercising his arm. He had let the matter drop. Jack was exceedingly surprised.
Kiku returned with the towels, which she applied while Mad Jack continued his range-of-motion exercises. "Kuro-Jack-san," she said. "You are a very fortunate man. If the arrow--"
"Spear."
"--had gone a little one way or the other, it would have killed you."
"Kiku-san," Jack asked, "were you once a doctor?"
"No, sir. There was a samurai..." Her eyes filled with tears. She controlled herself with a visible effort. "He taught me many of the arts of war, including something of the knowledge of anatomy."
"Why'd he sell you?" Mad Jack asked.
"He didn't. Two years ago some of Aku's minions shot him in the back. It was they who sold me."
Mad Jack spoke words that brightened Samurai Jack's day tremendously. "Kiku-san, help me get dressed."
She got the fundoshi placed to Mad Jack's satisfaction on her second try. It was almost as if he were mellowing slightly; if he continued on like this, Samurai Jack thought, he would be marginally tolerable in...oh, no more than ten years.
Kiku went to the window and looked out. "O-samurai," she said, and at the sudden change in her voice Mad Jack reached into his gi and Jack put his hand on his sword. "O-samurai, I would not presume to ask either of you for his sword, but could one of you loan me some sort of weapon? I will not go back there, and I want to die fighting them."
"Welshers," Mad Jack said, annoyed.
Jack angled over to the window and peeked out. An assortment of unsavory types were milling around on the wood sidewalk before the inn. "Fifteen."
"Fifteen people to chop and I can't wield a sword!" Mad Jack said regretfully.
"I thank you anyway, Kuro-Jack-san." Kiku bowed to him and then to Jack. "Jack-san, since you knew nothing about my joining you, I don't think it would be fair to ask you to intervene against such odds."
"No, it probably wouldn't." He smiled. "So I will volunteer."
Moved, Kiku bowed low. "Jack-senpai, truly you exemplify the spirit of bushido."
He blushed. "It is a great privilege for a samurai to defend a fine person such as yourself."
"Please forgive me for interrupting the meeting of the mutual admiration society," Mad Jack said, "so sorry, but might we plan our attack now?"
"Seems obvious," Jack said. "The stairs. The stairs are the only way for them to come in, since they don't seem inclined to climb the wall. We hold the stairs and when they assemble on the stairs..."
Mad Jack pulled his gi away from his chest. "Kiku-san, take my extra gun." She reached in and withdrew it. "Do you know how to operate it?"
"No, sorry. Kozuke preferred his sword so I never got familiar with guns."
"It's very simple. That little switch is the safety. Flip it up when you are ready to fire. You need not aim. Just hold the trigger down and, well, spray lead." Mad Jack pantomimed. "Understand?"
"I understand," Kiku said.
"You will stay to my right, that will put you between two guns. I want my property in the safest place possible."
Jack checked on the enemy again. "They're starting to come in."
With his left hand in his pocket, his right arm in a sling, and a savage grin on his face, Mad Jack stepped out onto the landing to meet the enemy.
After a long, thoughtful pause, Jack turned around. He walked back, pulled up a stool, and sat down. "I'm listening. How did you find this thing?"
"Four--no, now it's closer to five--months ago I was attacked by Kurando. You know Kurando?"
"No."
"He is--was--one of Aku's more highly placed minions. Had an idea he knew how to use a tachi sword." Mad Jack smiled. "Had a further idea he'd hunt you down and kill you with something akin to your own weapon. He mistook me for you." Mad Jack must have seen Samurai Jack's annoyance at that idea, for his wicked smile broadened. "It happens quite often. In a way, I owe you half my kills.
"Kurando attacked me in the night, I wounded him. He fled. At daylight I followed the blood trail to what at first glance appeared to be the door of a natural cavern. Even your limited intelligence may perceive how surprised I was when the trail led back down into the Pit. After I killed Kurando and left, I stayed in the area for a few days, resting up from a wound." Mad Jack lowered his blanket long enough to display a recent scar across his middle, slightly above the waistline. "It was a shallow cut, but you know how it is when you're cut there. Nearly every time you move it'll come open."
Jack did indeed know, and for a brief moment, warrior to warrior, their understanding met.
"So I waited, and I noticed that that door was taking an unusually long time to vanish. Normally Aku moves them around very frequently."
How well Jack knew.
"So I did not move on. I stayed in the general area, and checked on the door every two, three days. In three months, it never moved. I am as certain as I can be, without watching it for years, that it never moves. I am certain enough that I want to go back there. I think it's the quickest way to catch Aku and settle accounts."
"Can you describe the terrain?"
"Get me something to draw with."
Jack borrowed paper and ink, brush and bed tray, from the monks. Mad Jack eased his arm out of the sling. "Support my elbow." He dipped the brush in the ink with his left hand, transferred it to his right, and began to sketch. "I keep a bearing on this place wherever I go. It is one hundred ten miles southeast of here. The people in the area call those mountains the Blue Mountains. There is a village here... here... here..." The brush flew. "Overall, it's sparsely populated, but there's a fairly large town twenty-nine miles north-northwest of the mountains. Akuville. I've been there before. There are wanted posters of you all over town. When I'm in the mood to kill many warriors, I go there and wait to be mistaken for you. It rarely takes long. If we were on business, though, you and I would have to pass through discreetly, probably disguised.
"Terrain is relatively easy and level until you are about sixteen miles from the door. From there, the elevation increases; you're climbing steadily. It's tricky in the autumn, which is when I was there, but not beyond a samurai." Mad Jack's red eyes gleamed. "Are you with me?"
"Hardly. I do not trust you. If you have been in the Pit, why did you not kill Aku while you were there?"
"I have tried. He resides deep within the Pit, surrounded by layers of guards. Even I could not fight my way through them; I was forced to retreat. Through one of the movable doors, that's how I came to this area. I saw no point in returning to the Pit alone, and there's a shortage of warriors willing to chase Aku into its depths. Or there was until now."
Jack waited.
"Don't you see? Even you must see! Alone, I almost did it. Together, we could do it." The red eyes held his. "I believe we could even get back out."
"Guards at the stationary door?"
"Plenty. I killed twenty-eight before I became too busy to continue to count."
"How might we find Aku once we got in? How big is the Pit? The longer we must search the greater our chance of being stopped."
"The Pit is a big place, but it's also quite busy. If you go in discreetly--"
"Discreetly as in killing twenty-eight guards?"
"I didn't say I killed them loudly!" Mad Jack said, annoyed. "I was very quiet. Now, as I was trying to say before you interrupted me, Aku resides somewhere near the center of the Pit. I don't know exactly where, I have never got that far in. But if we keep heading towards the center, we'll find him."
"No, I don't think so. I believe I'll continue to search for the gate of time that has been seen in this area," Jack said, and waited to see what reaction he'd get.
Mad Jack laughed. "Don't tell me that even you would fall for that story! Do you know how many places that thing has been 'spotted?' Most people wouldn't know the thing if they fell into it! Aerocars, weather satellites...even the full moon has been mistaken for that thing. You might as well let somebody tell you how to get to the end of a rainbow."
"You have made your point. And I have in fact seen nothing that resembles it."
"Nor are you likely to."
Jack had an unpleasant feeling that the doppelganger was speaking the truth. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If the gate cannot be found around here, yours is the best lead I have...but it comes from you, and I do not trust you."
"You've as much reason to trust me as I have to trust you. You wanted to kill me too, remember? And you thought you had succeeded.--Look," Mad Jack said impatiently. "I am not proposing that we start treating each other as long-lost brothers. The very idea disgusts me. I am proposing that we suspend hostilities long enough to destroy our common enemy. I still don't think either of us can defeat the other, but if you want to try I will be quite happy to fight you the moment Aku's head has fallen."
Jack thought it over a long time. "If this door exists, I know I'll need someone to show me where it is. One could wander around those mountains for a lifetime... All right," he said after more thought. "I accept your proposal. With the proviso that still I do not trust you, and if I even suspect that you are trying to betray me or ambush me, I shall indeed kill you, and this time I won't make the mistake of trying to think you away. This time I will chop you into the smallest pieces possible."
Mad Jack looked amused.
"If you are still amenable to a temporary truce under those conditions, we may begin whenever you like."
"Begin now."
Jack went back out and told the monks that his "brother" did not want him to leave him.
Four days later they departed the monastery. Although Mad Jack had seemed to be making some minimal effort to behave himself, perhaps to show his sincerity about the joint undertaking, his brush with death had not improved his overall disposition in the slightest, and the good monks had trouble concealing their delight that they were going to be rid of him. Jack didn't blame them. As he straightened up from his final farewell bow, Brother Adrian clapped him on the shoulder and murmured, "We'll pray for you."
Still convalescing, Mad Jack was not yet up to a normal day's march, but that was all right. There was no hurry; they could not enter the Pit until he was able to fight. They went perhaps eight miles southeast, then made camp for the night, dining off the food the kind monks had sent along, and began planning their campaign. Their first step was to take inventory of their weapons. Between them, they had two swords, two fully automatic pistols each holding twenty-two .218 explosive rounds in double clips, two hundred fourteen rounds of ammunition, six throwing stars, one dagger, and one hunting knife.
"Where did you get all this?" Jack asked.
"The hunting knife I took from a dead minion," Mad Jack replied. "I won the rest."
He must be exceedingly lucky in contests. "What about your sword? Has it any magic in it that can be used against Aku?"
"I believe so. He would have no other reason to fear me."
"But you aren't sure."
"No."
"Then we should assume it has no magic, unless, until, we see hard evidence otherwise." Jack smiled faintly. "That way any surprises we get will be pleasant ones. For now, I think we should plan that the best use for your sword will be to get my enchanted sword close enough to Aku that I can use it."
"Agreed." Mad Jack regarded the weapons spread out on the grass before him. "What do you want?"
He could have done nothing more likely to convince his suspicious partner of his sincerity... then again, he was bright enough to think of that... Jack shook his head faintly, frustrated; how hard it was to, in effect, second-guess yourself.
Mad Jack caught the gesture. "You want none of them?"
"Excuse me, please. I was thinking. You keep the guns. I have had little practice with guns." Jack hefted the dagger. It was a good weapon, well-balanced, comfortable in his hand. "I can use this." He sheathed it and tucked it into his belt.
"You might as well take the hunting knife too. I won't be skinning anything for a while."
Jack took the hunting knife. Mad Jack tucked one gun into his gi, then used the other to teach Jack how to load it, unload it, break it down, and clean it. When they finished, Jack put it back together, and Mad Jack put it in his left pocket. He stuffed the boxes of ammunition into his underwear; a sensible move, since the guns wouldn't be much use if the ammunition were lost, but likely to be most uncomfortable. No wonder he was so cranky. Jack put the stars into his right pocket for him. If he couldn't reach those in an emergency, it wouldn't matter much; throwing stars were little more than a backup weapon, not nearly as uncannily accurate as most people thought. Jack himself rarely bothered with them.
Their discussion moved on to other types of gear. Both men had been in the higher elevations of the Blue Mountains in late autumn, both had come unpleasantly close to freezing to death there, so on one matter, if on no other, they were in hearty agreement: this time they wanted some cold-weather gear. Since they couldn't count upon happening on, killing, and plundering a bounty hunter or minion who would have either the gear or the money to buy it, they agreed to keep an eye out for other ways to earn money.
The next morning, nineteen miles southeast of the monastery, they came upon an apple orchard at whose front gate there was a sign advertising that help was needed with the harvest. The pay was only two plix per barrel, but it was a start, and the fringe benefits were attractive to itinerant ronin: mat space indoors at night, breakfast in the morning, and all the apples you cared to eat throughout the day. They signed up.
Mad Jack picked neatly and quickly for an hour and then fainted; he was not yet well enough for such work. Jack managed to bring him around sufficiently to get him behind some bushes, out of sight, before the overseer came through.
Mad Jack sat up on his elbow, shaking his head. "We'll have to try something else during the day."
"This area isn't exactly a hotbed of activity," Jack pointed out. "Look, you keep out of sight and I'll pick for both of us until you're able. That will allow you to sleep indoors so you'll mend faster. I want you ready for combat as soon as possible."
"All right," Mad Jack said after a moment's thought. "And I'll see what I can do today."
Jack didn't quite understand that last remark, but since he was now working for two, he didn't take time to ask for an explanation, but returned to his picking. Even though he had to go much faster than he had been, he still enjoyed the day; the weather was sunny, still, and cool, and apple-picking was the kind of mindless task in which one could become caught up, resting the mind from worries and frustrations. Jack fell into the Zenlike rhythm of it, and by the time the overseer called a halt for the day, he had filled nineteen baskets. He watched the overseer moving through the orchard, accompanied by a robot drone that collected baskets.
"Nineteen!" the overseer said, impressed.
"Nine. My brother picked the other ten. I don't pick quite as fast as he."
The overseer looked around. "Where is he?"
"He had to excuse himself suddenly."
"People get carried away with those free apples. I guess I can trust you to pay him, you're his brother." The overseer handed over three decaplix notes and eight singles, and moved on. Jack went to clean up, and then to stake out a double spot in the long, barracks-like building where he was to spend the night, though there would probably be plenty of room. Half the pickers who had started that morning had not finished the day. Jack prowled the length of the room, looking for a spot where one could see all possible avenues of incoming attack.
The door opened and six naked men walked in.
"This is not the bath house," Jack advised. "So far as I know, there is none. I had to make do with a pump in the yard."
The naked men all looked unhappy. Finally one of them said, "Sir? Can you please get your brother to let us have our clothes back?"
"What?" Jack said.
The man sighed. "We got tired of picking so we sneaked in here to rest for a while. Your brother was in here, toying with some dice, and... well..."
Mad Jack walked in balancing two bento boxes in the crook of his left arm. He leaned close so Jack could take one, saying "Eat. You can't stay in fighting condition living on apples."
"Do you have their clothes?" Jack asked.
"No." Mad Jack sat down on the floor against the wall and opened his bento. Appetizing smells drifted out. "Eat."
"You must be mistaken," Jack said to the men, although he didn't see how they could be; surely there couldn't be two red-eyed samurai around here.
"He did win our clothes!" the man protested.
Jack looked at Mad Jack.
"I did," Mad Jack agreed, and continued to eat.
"Where are they?"
"In the village half a mile southwest there's a second-hand store. I cashed in the clothes there."
Looking even more unhappy, the men hurried out. That seemed to be that. Jack sat down and started to eat.
"Did you make any money?" Mad Jack asked.
"Thirty-eight plix."
"So together, we made two hundred sixteen."
Jack paused with a clump of rice halfway to his mouth. "You made one hundred and seventy-eight plix gambling?"
"Do I look as if I'm in a condition to pick eighty-nine baskets of apples?" Mad Jack shook his head in annoyance at Jack's obtuseness. "Look here, most simple of samurai. In addition to the used-clothing store, that town also has a small licensed quarter: taverns, houses of ill repute, a geisha house, a gambling den. I think we should spend the night here. I can do little more here; those men will spread the word."
There were one hundred seventy-eight very good reasons for Jack to accept the proposed change of plan. "Lead on. And you should teach me the game. Two can make more money than one."
"Tomorrow," Mad Jack agreed. "I cannot teach and play for money at the same time; both require concentration. Tonight, sit quietly and observe."
In the gambling den, Jack dutifully observed the dice game. Since time was money, especially to those losing, the game went very fast, too fast for a non-player to understand what was happening without some explanation, and after a while, becoming more and more confused, he gave up on understanding it, at least for tonight. He couldn't leave, in case his unwanted partner needed his help with something, so he alternately girl-watched and chatted with persons awaiting their turn at the table. As the night wore on, he grew more and more sleepy and paid less and less attention to the game; it was all he could do to keep alert for developing trouble. He was glad when Mad Jack finally stood up and they could return to their little rented room. He assembled Mad Jack's bed, then his own, brushed his teeth with his finger, and was asleep as soon as he lay down.
When he woke, the sun was high in the sky. He had slept much later than he usually did. Mad Jack was still asleep. Jack wondered how much, if any, money they had made last night. At the time he had stopped paying attention, Mad Jack had been slightly behind.
As usual, Jack checked all directions for possible attack. Then he went down the hall to the bathroom, returned to the room, got dressed, put his bed away, got dressed, and went out and bought some noodles for breakfast. It was now rising towards noon, but then again, Mad Jack had, so to speak, stood the night watch. Deciding it would be fair to give him another hour, Jack settled down to wait, leaving the other bowl of noodles on the table.
Somebody scratched at the door. Jack got back up, drew his sword, and waited. Another scratch. A female voice called, "O-samurai? Are you in there?"
Jack hadn't conversed with any Japanese-speaking women last night. Keeping his eyes on the door, he backed up and lightly kicked Mad Jack's hip. "Wake up!"
The red eyes opened. "Hai?"
"There's a woman asking for you."
"That's nothing unusual." Yawning, Mad Jack sat up.
"At the door!"
"Oh. It's probably the maiko I won last night." Mad Jack raised his voice. "Come on in!"
The door opened and a tiny apprentice geisha in a pink kimono decorated with white cranes walked in. She also wore the full, white-faced makeup and a towering wig. Closing the door, she set down the furoshiki bundle she carried and bowed to the floor. "Ohayo gozaimashita, o-samurai!"
"Ohayo gozaimasu," Mad Jack said with a perfunctory bow.
"Ohayo gozaimasu." Jack bowed. "Who are you?"
"I am Kiku. Please, o-samurai, what are your names?"
"Jack," they said together, and then glared at each other.
The maiko sat back on her heels, puzzled, glancing from one to the other. "You are both called 'Jack?' Two brothers with the same name? How can that be?"
"Our mother was drunk at the time," Mad Jack said irritably.
Kiku hastily lowered her forehead to the floor. Cautiously looking up, she said, "I mean no offense--but how are you to tell to whom I am speaking if I call your mutual name? May I call you Jack," she said to Samurai Jack, "and you Kuro-Jack?" she said to Mad Jack.
"That's fine," he said impatiently. "Look here, woman, I didn't acquire you with the idea that you'd do nothing but talk all day." Once again, she bowed to the floor. "I acquired you with the idea that you'd be of some use. To start with, when I get back from the toilet, I need my bandage changed." He got up and walked out.
Thoroughly embarrassed that people thought this rude, uncouth man was his brother, Jack pointed silently to the roll of bandaging on the table. Kiku smiled at him. He busied himself putting away the remaining bedding.
When Mad Jack returned, he sat down on the floor and Kiku immediately set to work. "That looks serious, sir."
"It was. It almost killed me."
"Almost," Jack said regretfully. "Look, about winning people in games--"
"My ancestors were with me last night!" Kiku interrupted happily. "I had become desperate enough to try to fight my way out of the geisha house; most likely I'd have been killed, but that would have been better than one more day as a maiko. It's terrible. They hit you all the time and never give you enough to eat. But then my ancestors sent Kuro-Jack-san and his dice. How can I ever thank you, sir?"
"We'll find a way," Mad Jack said.
She glanced at Jack. "I am sorry, Jack-san. I did not mean to interrupt you. I am so filled with happiness at escaping that place alive that my joy bursts forth at inopportune times. What had you started to say?"
"Never mind," he said. If Kiku thought being won as a prize left her better off, it was hardly his place to object. "Kuro-Jack-san, how much money did you win?"
"Five hundred sixty-two plix. And change."
Jack was definitely going to have to learn that game.
Kiku was gently wiggling Mad Jack's upper arm. "Sir, if I may suggest--you had better let me put that joint through its range of motion several times a day, if you want to regain the full use of your arm."
"I've been doing that for him," Jack told her. "Please, take over."
Kiku immediately seized Mad Jack's right elbow and forced his arm straight out to the side. Caught by surprise, he let out a startled yell of pain. She shoved the arm straight up. He blanched and sweat popped out on his forehead. "Hmmm, yes, very stiff," she said. "I will get you some hot towels." She bowed and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
"She's almost as strong as a man!" Mad Jack said, surprised. He stood up, looking towards his clothes. Jack repressed a sigh. The worst time of the day was here; knowing that Mad Jack also probably wasn't looking forward to what was coming was small consolation.
Mad Jack fended for himself as best he could, but there were some things that a person who had virtually no mobility in one arm simply could not do without help. One of those things was getting dressed. Normally Jack had no objection whatever to aiding an injured person in any way necessary, but Mad Jack was a little different. His mere existence made Jack uncomfortable. Touching him gave Jack the crawls, so having to help him dress would have been bad enough if he'd been of an agreeable nature. He was not, so Jack had to put up with being snarled at all through the distasteful task. Mad Jack was particularly testy about his underwear. If Jack wasn't wrapping it too tight, he was wrapping it too loose; if he wasn't (supposedly) giving Mad Jack a wedgie, he was "letting it hang down to my knees, you fool!" Some days there would be three or four rewraps; one day there had been five, and might have been more if Jack hadn't put his foot down, and every single day he had to fight the urge to rip the fundoshi from between Mad Jack's legs and wrap it tightly around his fool neck. As far as Jack was concerned, if Kiku did nothing besides take over the fundoshi fittings, she would be a welcome addition to the expedition. Jack repressed another sigh. Mad Jack wasn't likely to be combat ready for weeks. The depressing prospect of a month, maybe even two, in the creature's company stretched before Jack like a desert he must cross.
Mad Jack was making tiny sawing motions with his right arm. It was evident that it hurt. "When I catch Aku," he said, "I will tear out his liver and shove it down his throat."
"Does he treat all his minions as badly as he treated you?" Jack wondered.
Mad Jack's red eyes blazed. "If you ever call me a minion of his again I'll do my best to tear out your liver. If I would not even submit to you, who at least had the courage to face me in open battle, do you think I'd submit to a coward like Aku?"
"That's a valid point." Jack bowed slightly. "One I had not considered. I meant no insult."
"All right." Mad Jack resumed exercising his arm. He had let the matter drop. Jack was exceedingly surprised.
Kiku returned with the towels, which she applied while Mad Jack continued his range-of-motion exercises. "Kuro-Jack-san," she said. "You are a very fortunate man. If the arrow--"
"Spear."
"--had gone a little one way or the other, it would have killed you."
"Kiku-san," Jack asked, "were you once a doctor?"
"No, sir. There was a samurai..." Her eyes filled with tears. She controlled herself with a visible effort. "He taught me many of the arts of war, including something of the knowledge of anatomy."
"Why'd he sell you?" Mad Jack asked.
"He didn't. Two years ago some of Aku's minions shot him in the back. It was they who sold me."
Mad Jack spoke words that brightened Samurai Jack's day tremendously. "Kiku-san, help me get dressed."
She got the fundoshi placed to Mad Jack's satisfaction on her second try. It was almost as if he were mellowing slightly; if he continued on like this, Samurai Jack thought, he would be marginally tolerable in...oh, no more than ten years.
Kiku went to the window and looked out. "O-samurai," she said, and at the sudden change in her voice Mad Jack reached into his gi and Jack put his hand on his sword. "O-samurai, I would not presume to ask either of you for his sword, but could one of you loan me some sort of weapon? I will not go back there, and I want to die fighting them."
"Welshers," Mad Jack said, annoyed.
Jack angled over to the window and peeked out. An assortment of unsavory types were milling around on the wood sidewalk before the inn. "Fifteen."
"Fifteen people to chop and I can't wield a sword!" Mad Jack said regretfully.
"I thank you anyway, Kuro-Jack-san." Kiku bowed to him and then to Jack. "Jack-san, since you knew nothing about my joining you, I don't think it would be fair to ask you to intervene against such odds."
"No, it probably wouldn't." He smiled. "So I will volunteer."
Moved, Kiku bowed low. "Jack-senpai, truly you exemplify the spirit of bushido."
He blushed. "It is a great privilege for a samurai to defend a fine person such as yourself."
"Please forgive me for interrupting the meeting of the mutual admiration society," Mad Jack said, "so sorry, but might we plan our attack now?"
"Seems obvious," Jack said. "The stairs. The stairs are the only way for them to come in, since they don't seem inclined to climb the wall. We hold the stairs and when they assemble on the stairs..."
Mad Jack pulled his gi away from his chest. "Kiku-san, take my extra gun." She reached in and withdrew it. "Do you know how to operate it?"
"No, sorry. Kozuke preferred his sword so I never got familiar with guns."
"It's very simple. That little switch is the safety. Flip it up when you are ready to fire. You need not aim. Just hold the trigger down and, well, spray lead." Mad Jack pantomimed. "Understand?"
"I understand," Kiku said.
"You will stay to my right, that will put you between two guns. I want my property in the safest place possible."
Jack checked on the enemy again. "They're starting to come in."
With his left hand in his pocket, his right arm in a sling, and a savage grin on his face, Mad Jack stepped out onto the landing to meet the enemy.