Chapter Three
The two men stared at each other. The silence in the room hovered somewhere between total embarrassment and the threat of violence.
Finally Kougaiji broke it. "If this is an attempt to asssassinate me, I've seen better." He kept his voice flat and uninflected, not wanting to give away precisely how annoyed by this whole situation he was becoming. He disliked being the butt of the universe's sense of humour. Nii Jieni had to be behind this somehow.
"It is not a fucking attempt to assassinate you," Gojyo gritted between clenched teeth. He finally gave in, and scratched under his corset, hand going down the bodice of his dress.
"Well, no. I didn't really think so. Your style is a little more -- well, blatant. Not so demure."
Gojyo bristled. "Look, cut it with the damn comments. I was trying to save that girl's life. I'm sure you don't care about that sort of . . ." Suddenly a note of understanding broke in, as he saw the abrupt stillness of Kougaiji's face, and he broke off mid-sentence, then started again. "Okay. Okay, I get it." He sighed. "You thought I really was a girl, right? And you figured that if you pulled me as your maid then I'd be safe from the youkai here? Right." He chewed his lip for a moment. "Sorry. Guess I got that one wrong."
Kougaiji let his total stillness slide away a little. "You aren't as perceptive as Doku." And what a comfort it would be to have his retainer next to him, ready to guard his back, here in this nest of spiders.
Gojyo turned away, and reached behind him to undo the fastenings of his dress. "At least I can take this damn thing off now. Screw it. I don't know how women cope."
"I wouldn't if I were you." Kougaiji considered. "Actually, I hope you won't in any case."
"Hey, you may be getting a kick out of seeing me like this . . ."
"It's not that." Kougaiji wandered across the room and sat down on one of the high-backed chairs, his skin pale against its black silk upholstery. A lock of his hair lay across his shoulder, a soft rich chestnut. "You are aware that no men are allowed in here, I suppose? And that they're probably going to kill any man who's found in here on sight? Are you really planning to slaughter your way out?"
Gojyo slouched after him, and leaned against the back of the chair, his own hair falling round his face. "And what about you, Red Boy? You look pretty damn masculine to me."
Kougaiji shrugged. "Diplomatic mission. I suspect I'm an honorary woman for the duration."
The room was silent for a few minutes.
Kougaiji simply sat there, eyes half closed, considering his alternatives. Handing the brash half-youkai over to the spider-women was unthinkable. For once, the necessary procurement of the sutra didn't figure in matters, and it was simply a question of his own judgment. Oddly liberating. "I won't ask any questions about where the others are for the moment," he said. "Will that make matters easier?"
Gojyo propped his chin on his folded arms. "It helps, yeah." And it also helped that the other man was cool, self-possessed, calm and unhurried in something of the same way that Hakkai was; an autumn day's stillness, rich colours against a clear sky. There wasn't the sense of confrontation that he always had with Sanzou. It made it easier to think matters through, to come to a conclusion without feeling pressured or needing to defend his point of view violently. "So -- what's the diplomatic mission? Standard shit?"
The youkai prince didn't bother to look up at him. "A standard enough thing, yes. However, having a man found in my quarters won't help my position." He considered. "Perhaps if I send you off on my dragon, and have it drop you safely out of the district . . ."
Gojyo weighed this as a plan. "Might work," he decided. After all, he could double back and catch up with the others -- assuming, and please dear Buddha whom Sanzou said he'd shoot on sight, let them not be trying something like breaking in to rescue him, that the others were still waiting outside for him. Of course, it still left the problem of stopping the youkai exacting tribute from the local villagers, but now that it was over for another year, perhaps the villagers could be persuaded to stand up for themselves.
"It should do." Kougaiji half closed his eyes thoughtfully. "This whole fortress is actually quite peaceful. They don't seem to have had the violently aggressive reaction to nearby humans that other youkai had during the Zero Wave." And who was responsible for that, mm? You're still serving them.
"So where are all the men?" Gojyo demanded, pushing off the back of the chair again and starting to pace.
"There are none. Some sort of local custom. I don't know all the details."
"You have got to be fucking joking. What about kids? What happens when this place runs out of kids?"
Kougaiji closed his eyes. "An interesting problem," he murmured, "but not mine."
Gojyo circled round to face him. "Is that why you got sent here?"
The prince didn't even bother to react to that suggestion. "Nonsense."
And this was the prince whom Jien had sworn to, after all. This was the youkai who held his half-brother's loyalty. This was someone whom Jien trusted totally. This foreign prince, as beautiful in his way as Sanzou, as quiet as Hakkai, and yet a total stranger and a sworn enemy. Does Jien kiss him, he wondered. Does Jien run his hands through that sweet chestnut hair and bury his face in it and then kiss along the curve of the ear and down the line of the neck and across the shoulder and does he smell of cinnamon and . . . An unexpected flash of concern made him ask, "You sure you'll be okay, here on your own? When I'm out of here?"
Kougaiji opened his eyelids a fraction, showing a thin slit of dark pupil and iris. "I am Kougaiji prince of Tenchiku son of the emperor Gyuumaoh. I should have no problems."
A knock on the door. "Come in," Kougaiji called, straightening imperceptibly as he began to rise from the chair.
The idea was like a thunderflash inside Gojyo's head. I need to be able to get out of here. I need to have them think I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. And fuck it, I want to do this. He slipped one hand under Kougaiji's elbow, and as the prince began to turn to him, he hooked his foot round the other's ankle and tugged. Kougaiji tripped, off-balance, and fell into the curve of Gojyo's left arm.
"What . . ." Kougaiji started to say, and then Gojyo had him locked in a kiss, lips against lips, bending him backwards so that Kougaiji had to either lean against him or struggle like an idiot, the other hand tangled in that long chestnut hair to hold him still.
Kougaiji did taste like cinnamon, and like copper, and like other spices which he couldn't name.
There was the sound of the door starting to swing open, and then a cough -- a cough which he could recognise from having heard it so often in the past, the cough of oh-dear-sorry-to-disturb-you-back-in-a-moment, a tone of voice somewhere between amusement and embarassment. The door clicked as it was drawn shut again.
---
Kougaiji hadn't expected something so raw and brash, so shockingly forward. That was the excuse running through his mind as he brought his hands up against Gojyo's shoulders to push the other man away. It was a good excuse. He couldn't have expected anything like this. He struggled to bring a knee up between the other man's legs, and serve him right, when he caught the fraction of movement by the door, and realized that they were being watched by a wide-eyed guard.
But there was something terribly enticing about being so much on his own, so much away from his usual responsibilities and duties. And Gojou couldn't be one of Nii Jieni's schemes. That was a little too ridiculous to be possible. Freedom was like wine in his mouth, like fire in his body. It was stupid. It was impossible. It was inconceivable that he should raise his mouth to Gojyo and put his hands round the back of the other man's neck and pull him down further into a hard bruising kiss. And all these things were more intoxicating than should have been possible. And it was only to convince the youkai at the door that Gojyo was being a suitable bodyservant and acting in a way proper to a humble village girl.
The door closed with an audible click.
Kougaiji broke the kiss, and put real force behind the shove this time. "Off. Now," he hissed.
Gojyo let go lazily, the devil dancing in his eyes. "Now they'll be convinced that you're pleased with me," he murmured.
"I'm more inclined to let them send you to work in the kitchens," Kougaiji snapped from between clenched teeth. His insides were a tight knot of tension and anger and hunger, and the anger was more at himself than at this fool of a youth who'd kissed him with such careless enthusiasm. He shouldn't have thought that he was like Doku. There was a difference which went down to the bones. Doku didn't have this fire. And Kougaiji himself would never have the freedom to be irresponsible.
"Work in the kitchens? Don't you mean be served up for supper in the kitchens?" Gojyo spat.
"No." Kougaiji concentrated on the knots of heat that ran through his body, loosening them one by one, letting tension drain away with desire, and could finally tilt his head to look Gojyo in the eyes coolly. Anger was ice now, rather than fuel to the fire. "Besides -- if for no other reason -- I imagine that you'd taste foul. Now I need to go and eat a formal dinner. You can wait for me. Try to keep yourself occupied." He walked smoothly to the door.
"Bastard," Gojyo muttered, collapsing into the armchair that Kougaiji had been occuping a few minutes earlier.
Kougaiji blandly ignored him, back turned proudly, as he left the room.
---
The kitchens lacked guards, and it had been easy for Hakkai to gain entrance by explaining that they were just bringing up an extra load of turnips and religious consolation. Sanzou had refused to carry turnips, but Goku had been willing enough to play porter after being promised a snack. Hakuryuu had travelled in comfort, perched atop the sacks.
The dozen women working in the kitchen ranged from early twenties to late middle-age, but were all attractive. They also all displayed a strange calm at the prospect of being in a castle filled with carnivorous youkai. Their concern seemed more directed at the three newcomers, who were instructed to stay in the area by the door, and not to come in another step, if they valued their lives.
"But we're here to rescue you!" Goku protested. "Oh, and our friend too. The erokappa's upstairs somewhere."
The oldest woman present pulled up a chair and sat down in it with a sigh of relief. "Damn laundry . . . so who are you lot, anyhow? Is he," and she pointed at Sanzou, "really a priest?"
Sanzou fixed her with a deathly glare, and lit a cigarette.
"Sumimasen," Hakkai apologised. "We'd been told that the youkai here regularly demanded a tribute of young women. One of our friends impersonated the latest one, so that she wouldn't have to sacrifice herself. He may be in grave danger."
"He probably is, given he's a man," the woman commented bitterly. She lit up a battered clay pipe, and blew a smoke ring. "Okay, boys. Time for a lesson in the realities of life."
Sanzou folded his arms disdainfully and leaned against the wall. "I told you this was a waste of time," he remarked to Hakkai, not even bothering to lower his voice.
"Well, yes and no," the woman replied. "I take it you're travellers?"
Hakkai nodded. "We are, yes."
"Right." She took the pipe out of her mouth and gestured with it. "The name's Bie Liao. I've been running this kitchen for the last twenty years or so. Thing is, the ladies here -- that is, the youkai ladies -- they're not aggressive. But the local human forces are. If they got the idea that the ladies weren't the bloodthirsty sort, they'd be marching on the place and trying to take it over before you could say shit-where-did-I-put-the-banners. This means that the ladies here are expected to take local girls as tribute, and if they stopped, the local warlords would think it was a sign of weakness. I blame the fathers."
"I blame the mothers," called across a younger-looking woman, who seemed to be in her mid-thirties. "Look at mine. All oh yes dear, you're doing this for your family, be noble and give yourself up and make me proud of you, I'd do it myself if I was younger. And now I hear she's gone and married again. Bitch."
"Leaving that aside," Bie Liao went on, "it's not a bad life. We're servants, yes, but it's no worse than most wives get in their own home. We get decent clothing, good food, and after a girl's been working here for a few years, the ladies are usually willing to send her off somewhere else, as long as she won't go and spill the beans back home. Okay, so we don't get to see home again, but it's better than being eaten alive."
"This is weird," commented Goku from around a plate of meat buns.
Sanzou brooded. Going back to shoot the whole village seemed like such an excellent thought.
Hakkai said, a little desperately, "And that's all?"
Bie Liao glanced around the kitchen. There were general shrugs. "Yes," said the woman who'd complained about her mother. "Pretty much. I mean, it's a pity about not being allowed any men here . . ."
"Why not?" Hakkai asked sharply. Gojyo might be in far more danger than he'd expected.
"Something to do with the old Queen." Bie Liao gestured with her pipe again. "About a decade back, she went into seclusion in the cellars, and since then no men have been allowed in. The Princess is in charge, but she has to go down to get Mother's opinion on everything. Now, let's get frank here. I don't want to see you lot all get killed because you're trespassing. How about one of my girls goes to find your friend and brings her down here, and you all walk out nice and quietly?"
"It sounds simplest," Sanzou muttered, "if we can trust the dumbass to pay attention."
"Are you sure he's a priest?" Bie Liao asked Hakkai.
"Oh, definitely . . ." Hakkai ran a hand through his hair. This was developing into a full-blown mess. He had no wish to cause the destruction of a relatively peaceful group of youkai. Not again, never again, not again, never again . . . Smuggling Gojyo out of here quickly and quietly seemed like the easiest solution.
A deep-toned bell began ringing somewhere in the heights of the fortress.
"Well, shit," said Bie Liao. "Haven't heard that in a while. That's the fortress alarm. They'll have closed up the back gate by now. Looks like you're not going anywhere after all."
---
The two men stared at each other. The silence in the room hovered somewhere between total embarrassment and the threat of violence.
Finally Kougaiji broke it. "If this is an attempt to asssassinate me, I've seen better." He kept his voice flat and uninflected, not wanting to give away precisely how annoyed by this whole situation he was becoming. He disliked being the butt of the universe's sense of humour. Nii Jieni had to be behind this somehow.
"It is not a fucking attempt to assassinate you," Gojyo gritted between clenched teeth. He finally gave in, and scratched under his corset, hand going down the bodice of his dress.
"Well, no. I didn't really think so. Your style is a little more -- well, blatant. Not so demure."
Gojyo bristled. "Look, cut it with the damn comments. I was trying to save that girl's life. I'm sure you don't care about that sort of . . ." Suddenly a note of understanding broke in, as he saw the abrupt stillness of Kougaiji's face, and he broke off mid-sentence, then started again. "Okay. Okay, I get it." He sighed. "You thought I really was a girl, right? And you figured that if you pulled me as your maid then I'd be safe from the youkai here? Right." He chewed his lip for a moment. "Sorry. Guess I got that one wrong."
Kougaiji let his total stillness slide away a little. "You aren't as perceptive as Doku." And what a comfort it would be to have his retainer next to him, ready to guard his back, here in this nest of spiders.
Gojyo turned away, and reached behind him to undo the fastenings of his dress. "At least I can take this damn thing off now. Screw it. I don't know how women cope."
"I wouldn't if I were you." Kougaiji considered. "Actually, I hope you won't in any case."
"Hey, you may be getting a kick out of seeing me like this . . ."
"It's not that." Kougaiji wandered across the room and sat down on one of the high-backed chairs, his skin pale against its black silk upholstery. A lock of his hair lay across his shoulder, a soft rich chestnut. "You are aware that no men are allowed in here, I suppose? And that they're probably going to kill any man who's found in here on sight? Are you really planning to slaughter your way out?"
Gojyo slouched after him, and leaned against the back of the chair, his own hair falling round his face. "And what about you, Red Boy? You look pretty damn masculine to me."
Kougaiji shrugged. "Diplomatic mission. I suspect I'm an honorary woman for the duration."
The room was silent for a few minutes.
Kougaiji simply sat there, eyes half closed, considering his alternatives. Handing the brash half-youkai over to the spider-women was unthinkable. For once, the necessary procurement of the sutra didn't figure in matters, and it was simply a question of his own judgment. Oddly liberating. "I won't ask any questions about where the others are for the moment," he said. "Will that make matters easier?"
Gojyo propped his chin on his folded arms. "It helps, yeah." And it also helped that the other man was cool, self-possessed, calm and unhurried in something of the same way that Hakkai was; an autumn day's stillness, rich colours against a clear sky. There wasn't the sense of confrontation that he always had with Sanzou. It made it easier to think matters through, to come to a conclusion without feeling pressured or needing to defend his point of view violently. "So -- what's the diplomatic mission? Standard shit?"
The youkai prince didn't bother to look up at him. "A standard enough thing, yes. However, having a man found in my quarters won't help my position." He considered. "Perhaps if I send you off on my dragon, and have it drop you safely out of the district . . ."
Gojyo weighed this as a plan. "Might work," he decided. After all, he could double back and catch up with the others -- assuming, and please dear Buddha whom Sanzou said he'd shoot on sight, let them not be trying something like breaking in to rescue him, that the others were still waiting outside for him. Of course, it still left the problem of stopping the youkai exacting tribute from the local villagers, but now that it was over for another year, perhaps the villagers could be persuaded to stand up for themselves.
"It should do." Kougaiji half closed his eyes thoughtfully. "This whole fortress is actually quite peaceful. They don't seem to have had the violently aggressive reaction to nearby humans that other youkai had during the Zero Wave." And who was responsible for that, mm? You're still serving them.
"So where are all the men?" Gojyo demanded, pushing off the back of the chair again and starting to pace.
"There are none. Some sort of local custom. I don't know all the details."
"You have got to be fucking joking. What about kids? What happens when this place runs out of kids?"
Kougaiji closed his eyes. "An interesting problem," he murmured, "but not mine."
Gojyo circled round to face him. "Is that why you got sent here?"
The prince didn't even bother to react to that suggestion. "Nonsense."
And this was the prince whom Jien had sworn to, after all. This was the youkai who held his half-brother's loyalty. This was someone whom Jien trusted totally. This foreign prince, as beautiful in his way as Sanzou, as quiet as Hakkai, and yet a total stranger and a sworn enemy. Does Jien kiss him, he wondered. Does Jien run his hands through that sweet chestnut hair and bury his face in it and then kiss along the curve of the ear and down the line of the neck and across the shoulder and does he smell of cinnamon and . . . An unexpected flash of concern made him ask, "You sure you'll be okay, here on your own? When I'm out of here?"
Kougaiji opened his eyelids a fraction, showing a thin slit of dark pupil and iris. "I am Kougaiji prince of Tenchiku son of the emperor Gyuumaoh. I should have no problems."
A knock on the door. "Come in," Kougaiji called, straightening imperceptibly as he began to rise from the chair.
The idea was like a thunderflash inside Gojyo's head. I need to be able to get out of here. I need to have them think I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. And fuck it, I want to do this. He slipped one hand under Kougaiji's elbow, and as the prince began to turn to him, he hooked his foot round the other's ankle and tugged. Kougaiji tripped, off-balance, and fell into the curve of Gojyo's left arm.
"What . . ." Kougaiji started to say, and then Gojyo had him locked in a kiss, lips against lips, bending him backwards so that Kougaiji had to either lean against him or struggle like an idiot, the other hand tangled in that long chestnut hair to hold him still.
Kougaiji did taste like cinnamon, and like copper, and like other spices which he couldn't name.
There was the sound of the door starting to swing open, and then a cough -- a cough which he could recognise from having heard it so often in the past, the cough of oh-dear-sorry-to-disturb-you-back-in-a-moment, a tone of voice somewhere between amusement and embarassment. The door clicked as it was drawn shut again.
---
Kougaiji hadn't expected something so raw and brash, so shockingly forward. That was the excuse running through his mind as he brought his hands up against Gojyo's shoulders to push the other man away. It was a good excuse. He couldn't have expected anything like this. He struggled to bring a knee up between the other man's legs, and serve him right, when he caught the fraction of movement by the door, and realized that they were being watched by a wide-eyed guard.
But there was something terribly enticing about being so much on his own, so much away from his usual responsibilities and duties. And Gojou couldn't be one of Nii Jieni's schemes. That was a little too ridiculous to be possible. Freedom was like wine in his mouth, like fire in his body. It was stupid. It was impossible. It was inconceivable that he should raise his mouth to Gojyo and put his hands round the back of the other man's neck and pull him down further into a hard bruising kiss. And all these things were more intoxicating than should have been possible. And it was only to convince the youkai at the door that Gojyo was being a suitable bodyservant and acting in a way proper to a humble village girl.
The door closed with an audible click.
Kougaiji broke the kiss, and put real force behind the shove this time. "Off. Now," he hissed.
Gojyo let go lazily, the devil dancing in his eyes. "Now they'll be convinced that you're pleased with me," he murmured.
"I'm more inclined to let them send you to work in the kitchens," Kougaiji snapped from between clenched teeth. His insides were a tight knot of tension and anger and hunger, and the anger was more at himself than at this fool of a youth who'd kissed him with such careless enthusiasm. He shouldn't have thought that he was like Doku. There was a difference which went down to the bones. Doku didn't have this fire. And Kougaiji himself would never have the freedom to be irresponsible.
"Work in the kitchens? Don't you mean be served up for supper in the kitchens?" Gojyo spat.
"No." Kougaiji concentrated on the knots of heat that ran through his body, loosening them one by one, letting tension drain away with desire, and could finally tilt his head to look Gojyo in the eyes coolly. Anger was ice now, rather than fuel to the fire. "Besides -- if for no other reason -- I imagine that you'd taste foul. Now I need to go and eat a formal dinner. You can wait for me. Try to keep yourself occupied." He walked smoothly to the door.
"Bastard," Gojyo muttered, collapsing into the armchair that Kougaiji had been occuping a few minutes earlier.
Kougaiji blandly ignored him, back turned proudly, as he left the room.
---
The kitchens lacked guards, and it had been easy for Hakkai to gain entrance by explaining that they were just bringing up an extra load of turnips and religious consolation. Sanzou had refused to carry turnips, but Goku had been willing enough to play porter after being promised a snack. Hakuryuu had travelled in comfort, perched atop the sacks.
The dozen women working in the kitchen ranged from early twenties to late middle-age, but were all attractive. They also all displayed a strange calm at the prospect of being in a castle filled with carnivorous youkai. Their concern seemed more directed at the three newcomers, who were instructed to stay in the area by the door, and not to come in another step, if they valued their lives.
"But we're here to rescue you!" Goku protested. "Oh, and our friend too. The erokappa's upstairs somewhere."
The oldest woman present pulled up a chair and sat down in it with a sigh of relief. "Damn laundry . . . so who are you lot, anyhow? Is he," and she pointed at Sanzou, "really a priest?"
Sanzou fixed her with a deathly glare, and lit a cigarette.
"Sumimasen," Hakkai apologised. "We'd been told that the youkai here regularly demanded a tribute of young women. One of our friends impersonated the latest one, so that she wouldn't have to sacrifice herself. He may be in grave danger."
"He probably is, given he's a man," the woman commented bitterly. She lit up a battered clay pipe, and blew a smoke ring. "Okay, boys. Time for a lesson in the realities of life."
Sanzou folded his arms disdainfully and leaned against the wall. "I told you this was a waste of time," he remarked to Hakkai, not even bothering to lower his voice.
"Well, yes and no," the woman replied. "I take it you're travellers?"
Hakkai nodded. "We are, yes."
"Right." She took the pipe out of her mouth and gestured with it. "The name's Bie Liao. I've been running this kitchen for the last twenty years or so. Thing is, the ladies here -- that is, the youkai ladies -- they're not aggressive. But the local human forces are. If they got the idea that the ladies weren't the bloodthirsty sort, they'd be marching on the place and trying to take it over before you could say shit-where-did-I-put-the-banners. This means that the ladies here are expected to take local girls as tribute, and if they stopped, the local warlords would think it was a sign of weakness. I blame the fathers."
"I blame the mothers," called across a younger-looking woman, who seemed to be in her mid-thirties. "Look at mine. All oh yes dear, you're doing this for your family, be noble and give yourself up and make me proud of you, I'd do it myself if I was younger. And now I hear she's gone and married again. Bitch."
"Leaving that aside," Bie Liao went on, "it's not a bad life. We're servants, yes, but it's no worse than most wives get in their own home. We get decent clothing, good food, and after a girl's been working here for a few years, the ladies are usually willing to send her off somewhere else, as long as she won't go and spill the beans back home. Okay, so we don't get to see home again, but it's better than being eaten alive."
"This is weird," commented Goku from around a plate of meat buns.
Sanzou brooded. Going back to shoot the whole village seemed like such an excellent thought.
Hakkai said, a little desperately, "And that's all?"
Bie Liao glanced around the kitchen. There were general shrugs. "Yes," said the woman who'd complained about her mother. "Pretty much. I mean, it's a pity about not being allowed any men here . . ."
"Why not?" Hakkai asked sharply. Gojyo might be in far more danger than he'd expected.
"Something to do with the old Queen." Bie Liao gestured with her pipe again. "About a decade back, she went into seclusion in the cellars, and since then no men have been allowed in. The Princess is in charge, but she has to go down to get Mother's opinion on everything. Now, let's get frank here. I don't want to see you lot all get killed because you're trespassing. How about one of my girls goes to find your friend and brings her down here, and you all walk out nice and quietly?"
"It sounds simplest," Sanzou muttered, "if we can trust the dumbass to pay attention."
"Are you sure he's a priest?" Bie Liao asked Hakkai.
"Oh, definitely . . ." Hakkai ran a hand through his hair. This was developing into a full-blown mess. He had no wish to cause the destruction of a relatively peaceful group of youkai. Not again, never again, not again, never again . . . Smuggling Gojyo out of here quickly and quietly seemed like the easiest solution.
A deep-toned bell began ringing somewhere in the heights of the fortress.
"Well, shit," said Bie Liao. "Haven't heard that in a while. That's the fortress alarm. They'll have closed up the back gate by now. Looks like you're not going anywhere after all."
---
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