Chapter Nine
Cut him down was the first thought that went through Yaone's mind. She summoned her spear to her hands, in a gesture as automatic as breathing, and ran towards the central pillar.
The air itself swept her back, in a stream of blows that slapped at her like the cuts of a whip. She tumbled, came to her feet, caught herself, and looked up to see Gyokumen posed above Kougaiji where he hung on the pillar.
"He's mine," Gyokumen said, draping long arms over Kougaiji's shoulders so that her silken sleeves fell over his body and slid across his flesh. One long-nailed hand traced the line of his neck. "He always was my toy, but Nii-hakase just made things a little more -- definite. Didn't you, Nii-hakase?"
"It was my pleasure to serve the Empress," came Nii Jieni's voice from behind Yaone. She turned for a moment to see him standing there, still dressed as a Sanzou, white robes stirring in the cold air.
"Whose side are you on?" Yaone spat over her shoulder, knowing that the words were useless.
"Mnh -- mine, I think?" His glasses hid his eyes. "I give people what they want. Perhaps you should have wanted more."
Gyokumen slithered down the pillar like a lizard or a snake, all bright deep colour and smooth movement, her hair swaying around her face. "I own everything here. I own you too, Yaone. Get on your knees, child."
Yaone presented her spear. "I am in Kougajii-sama's service," she said formally, finding a little solace in the words which she had repeated so often, which were so much a part of her. "I am bound to him. He is Gyumaoh's full son by Ratsetsunyo. You are Gyumaoh's concubine. You own nothing."
Gyokumen's laughter rang in the air like glass bells in a fox-haunted temple. "You are a child. Kougaiji is my son here." Her nails stroked his lower leg, ran along the curve of his foot. "He is my lover. He is my pet. He is my slave. And I am everything in the world to him. You have no place here. Get out." Her words thrust at Yaone, a physical force like hands against her body which pushed her backwards.
Yaone planted the butt of her spear against the ground to balance herself. "I am Kougaiji-sama's sworn servant! Unless he dismisses me himself, unless I hear the words from his mouth, nobody else can bid me go."
And the room was a fraction lighter, a hairsbreadth warmer, an inch more alive.
He hears me. It was an understanding rather than a conscious thought, because the relief, the sheer joy in Yaone's mind, was too great a thing to be given words. I can reach him.
"Tell her to go," Gyokumen commanded Kougaiji. The light flickered on her skin, as smooth and clear as jade, as white as frozen pearls. She wore seduction like one of her silken robes. "Or better yet, tell her to kneel before me and serve me as she should."
It had not been like this before. This was a cold crawling desperation of the flesh, a madness of the blood. It swept through Yaone and left her staggering. It is like this because he perceives it thus -- she is like this because this is how she is to him, how she is now and here, terrible and beautiful and irresistible and unconquerable and he is lost and knows he cannot resist her . . . The words rattled around inside her head, meaningless constructions against the flood of hopeless obedience and need.
I understand, she had told Gyokumen once before. But that had been real and this was a dream, or perhaps that had been the dream, and this was all that was real, here and now.
And there had been another person who she could have gone to, who she had dreamed of, and each time in that dream she had said . . .
"No!" she screamed into the echoing silence. "I am Kougaiji-sama's and without his leave I will not give myself to anyone else!"
"He wouldn't ask that of you," Gyokumen whispered.
"I don't care," Yaone answered, and held to the words like a spar in a storm. A man cannot serve two masters and perhaps I cannot ever be his but I will not be another's. I will not give up what I am just because she asks it of me.
Perhaps there was a momentary brightness to the air. Perhaps not.
"Child, child, silly child." Gyokumen advanced towards her, moving away from where Kougaiji hung helpless and silent. "You cannot possibly win. This is Kougaiji's heart. I am here and I will be here forever. Nobody can drive me out. Nobody can bid me leave. Nobody can take me away from him. I have a right to him and you have none."
Stormwinds swelled out from Gyokumen, shaking the air with their fury, thrashing around Yaone and forcing her inexorably back towards the cavern's entrance. They sang of hopelessness and denial, of refusals, of every step which led to submission and acceptance and laying down her weapons and even a sick pleasure in the knowledge. You have always been nothing. You have never had a place here. See how much easier it is when you admit it?
And the worst of it was that Yaone realised that the power behind Gyokumen's words was founded in truth. Here in Kougaiji's dreams -- his heart, his mind, his soul, call it what she would -- Gyokumen was ensconced like a worm inside a nut, and Kougaiji didn't believe that he could stop her, that Yaone could stop her, that anyone could stop her. She was his pet nightmare, his personal hatred, his very own knowledge of failure and pain. Nobody else was that important to him --
-- wait.
This was the place where what Kougaiji believed became real. The idea bloomed like a lotus, complete within the moment of its conception, and somehow perfect in that completeness.
"His mother has more right to him than you have," Yaone screamed against the wind. "Rasetsunyo-sama! Save your son!" Her spear flew through the air, shearing through ofuda and spell-cords, and slammed into the base of the pillar where Kougajiji's mother stood imprisoned in stone.
Light zigzagged up the stone pillar in a pattern of fractures, shattering the stone behind it, ripping apart the structure of the spell. Kougaiji's bindings loosened, detached, and fell to the ground in a tumble of pale threads like spiderwebs. The figure of the woman reached out and took her son in her arms, head bowed over him in silence, light emanating out from her in heatless waves that made Gyokumen scream and cower and melt like snow at dawn. And Yaone felt tears in her eyes as something stronger than the earlier desire tugged at her, pulling her towards Rasetsunyo -- or the memory of Rasetsunyo, or the dream of Rasetsunyo, or does it matter? -- as she would have run to her own mother.
I will protect you, the presence said. Here there is light. Here there is comfort. Your mother is here. I will not leave you alone again.
Rasetsunyo settled to the ground in a swirling flow of robes, folding down to her knees elegantly. Kougaiji still slept in her arms, but his body lay with a more genuine ease now, unlike the earlier taut hopelessness of his posture. She looked up, and her eyes light all light endless light met Yaone's, and she gestured to Yaone to kneel opposite her.
Yaone knelt with the grace of long practice, setting her spear down beside her. Her right hand was still ungloved.
Rasetsunyo reached out, her long sleeves trailing on the ground, and shifted Kougaiji so that his head lay in Yaone's lap. Take care of him, the light and the silence said . . .
. . . and she was gone.
Kougaiji breathed gently, his chest rising and falling. His hair was as soft as silk against Yaone's hand.
"Anh. I'm impressed. I really am." Nii Jieni's voice was soft and full of dangerous promises. "But now, Yaone-kun, you must argue your case with me."
---
Cut him down was the first thought that went through Yaone's mind. She summoned her spear to her hands, in a gesture as automatic as breathing, and ran towards the central pillar.
The air itself swept her back, in a stream of blows that slapped at her like the cuts of a whip. She tumbled, came to her feet, caught herself, and looked up to see Gyokumen posed above Kougaiji where he hung on the pillar.
"He's mine," Gyokumen said, draping long arms over Kougaiji's shoulders so that her silken sleeves fell over his body and slid across his flesh. One long-nailed hand traced the line of his neck. "He always was my toy, but Nii-hakase just made things a little more -- definite. Didn't you, Nii-hakase?"
"It was my pleasure to serve the Empress," came Nii Jieni's voice from behind Yaone. She turned for a moment to see him standing there, still dressed as a Sanzou, white robes stirring in the cold air.
"Whose side are you on?" Yaone spat over her shoulder, knowing that the words were useless.
"Mnh -- mine, I think?" His glasses hid his eyes. "I give people what they want. Perhaps you should have wanted more."
Gyokumen slithered down the pillar like a lizard or a snake, all bright deep colour and smooth movement, her hair swaying around her face. "I own everything here. I own you too, Yaone. Get on your knees, child."
Yaone presented her spear. "I am in Kougajii-sama's service," she said formally, finding a little solace in the words which she had repeated so often, which were so much a part of her. "I am bound to him. He is Gyumaoh's full son by Ratsetsunyo. You are Gyumaoh's concubine. You own nothing."
Gyokumen's laughter rang in the air like glass bells in a fox-haunted temple. "You are a child. Kougaiji is my son here." Her nails stroked his lower leg, ran along the curve of his foot. "He is my lover. He is my pet. He is my slave. And I am everything in the world to him. You have no place here. Get out." Her words thrust at Yaone, a physical force like hands against her body which pushed her backwards.
Yaone planted the butt of her spear against the ground to balance herself. "I am Kougaiji-sama's sworn servant! Unless he dismisses me himself, unless I hear the words from his mouth, nobody else can bid me go."
And the room was a fraction lighter, a hairsbreadth warmer, an inch more alive.
He hears me. It was an understanding rather than a conscious thought, because the relief, the sheer joy in Yaone's mind, was too great a thing to be given words. I can reach him.
"Tell her to go," Gyokumen commanded Kougaiji. The light flickered on her skin, as smooth and clear as jade, as white as frozen pearls. She wore seduction like one of her silken robes. "Or better yet, tell her to kneel before me and serve me as she should."
It had not been like this before. This was a cold crawling desperation of the flesh, a madness of the blood. It swept through Yaone and left her staggering. It is like this because he perceives it thus -- she is like this because this is how she is to him, how she is now and here, terrible and beautiful and irresistible and unconquerable and he is lost and knows he cannot resist her . . . The words rattled around inside her head, meaningless constructions against the flood of hopeless obedience and need.
I understand, she had told Gyokumen once before. But that had been real and this was a dream, or perhaps that had been the dream, and this was all that was real, here and now.
And there had been another person who she could have gone to, who she had dreamed of, and each time in that dream she had said . . .
"No!" she screamed into the echoing silence. "I am Kougaiji-sama's and without his leave I will not give myself to anyone else!"
"He wouldn't ask that of you," Gyokumen whispered.
"I don't care," Yaone answered, and held to the words like a spar in a storm. A man cannot serve two masters and perhaps I cannot ever be his but I will not be another's. I will not give up what I am just because she asks it of me.
Perhaps there was a momentary brightness to the air. Perhaps not.
"Child, child, silly child." Gyokumen advanced towards her, moving away from where Kougaiji hung helpless and silent. "You cannot possibly win. This is Kougaiji's heart. I am here and I will be here forever. Nobody can drive me out. Nobody can bid me leave. Nobody can take me away from him. I have a right to him and you have none."
Stormwinds swelled out from Gyokumen, shaking the air with their fury, thrashing around Yaone and forcing her inexorably back towards the cavern's entrance. They sang of hopelessness and denial, of refusals, of every step which led to submission and acceptance and laying down her weapons and even a sick pleasure in the knowledge. You have always been nothing. You have never had a place here. See how much easier it is when you admit it?
And the worst of it was that Yaone realised that the power behind Gyokumen's words was founded in truth. Here in Kougaiji's dreams -- his heart, his mind, his soul, call it what she would -- Gyokumen was ensconced like a worm inside a nut, and Kougaiji didn't believe that he could stop her, that Yaone could stop her, that anyone could stop her. She was his pet nightmare, his personal hatred, his very own knowledge of failure and pain. Nobody else was that important to him --
-- wait.
This was the place where what Kougaiji believed became real. The idea bloomed like a lotus, complete within the moment of its conception, and somehow perfect in that completeness.
"His mother has more right to him than you have," Yaone screamed against the wind. "Rasetsunyo-sama! Save your son!" Her spear flew through the air, shearing through ofuda and spell-cords, and slammed into the base of the pillar where Kougajiji's mother stood imprisoned in stone.
Light zigzagged up the stone pillar in a pattern of fractures, shattering the stone behind it, ripping apart the structure of the spell. Kougaiji's bindings loosened, detached, and fell to the ground in a tumble of pale threads like spiderwebs. The figure of the woman reached out and took her son in her arms, head bowed over him in silence, light emanating out from her in heatless waves that made Gyokumen scream and cower and melt like snow at dawn. And Yaone felt tears in her eyes as something stronger than the earlier desire tugged at her, pulling her towards Rasetsunyo -- or the memory of Rasetsunyo, or the dream of Rasetsunyo, or does it matter? -- as she would have run to her own mother.
I will protect you, the presence said. Here there is light. Here there is comfort. Your mother is here. I will not leave you alone again.
Rasetsunyo settled to the ground in a swirling flow of robes, folding down to her knees elegantly. Kougaiji still slept in her arms, but his body lay with a more genuine ease now, unlike the earlier taut hopelessness of his posture. She looked up, and her eyes light all light endless light met Yaone's, and she gestured to Yaone to kneel opposite her.
Yaone knelt with the grace of long practice, setting her spear down beside her. Her right hand was still ungloved.
Rasetsunyo reached out, her long sleeves trailing on the ground, and shifted Kougaiji so that his head lay in Yaone's lap. Take care of him, the light and the silence said . . .
. . . and she was gone.
Kougaiji breathed gently, his chest rising and falling. His hair was as soft as silk against Yaone's hand.
"Anh. I'm impressed. I really am." Nii Jieni's voice was soft and full of dangerous promises. "But now, Yaone-kun, you must argue your case with me."
---
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