12th Day of Flocktime, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
Talass rushed out of the inn, gesturing brusquely for Cygnus and Zantac to remain inside as she rushed past.
Her husband hadn't gone far. Elrohir was standing perhaps forty feet from the door, a little off to the east. The ranger was standing quietly, his hand raised to shade his eyes as he looked upwards at the sun climbing towards its apex for the day.
The priestess slowed down to a walk as she approached.
"I'd like to be alone right now, Talass," Elrohir mumbled as she approached, not taking his eyes off the sun.
The cleric folded her arms across her chest. "Not your lucky day then, is it?" she replied.
The ranger now turned to eye his wife; his eyes still squinted from his apparent attempt to burn away some terrible internal vision.
"Explain," Talass said.
"Why?" Elrohir shot back, with more venom in his voice than he would usually dare when speaking with her.
Talass bit off the retort that was already trying to shove his way past her lips, then walked over to her husband and cradled his cheeks in her hands.
"Because keeping secrets won't do you any more good than it did Tojo," she whispered.
Elrohir stared into his wife's light blue eyes for a moment, and then gently removed her hands from his face. He held onto them, though.
"He used to talk about Fate a lot," the ranger said, in a voice that sounded disjointed to Talass. "He would tell these parables about Time, and Destiny, and some kind of 'memory spirits', that…" Elrohir shook his head, looking back towards the inn. "I guess I just didn't have the head to understand that kind of thing," he finished, smiling weakly.
"Who used to talk about that?"
The party leader turned back to eye his wife steadily, letting go of her wrists as he did so.
"Lemontharz."
Talass was silent for a moment. She was about to inquire further when Elrohir started speaking again.
"What if it was Tojo, Talass?"
The cleric looked at him in confusion. "What?'
Elrohir took a deep breath. "What if Tojo was the champion fated to wear Tsugo's armor? You heard him- nothing happened when that other samurai, Wabazetsu, touched it! Haven't we all just been telling Tojo what a noble, courageous, honorable person he is? Well, it's all true, isn't it? Why couldn't he have been the Chosen One?"
Talass stared into her husband's eyes. She realized suddenly he wasn't just asking for her opinion.
He wanted her to prove him wrong. He was begging her to prove him wrong.
Talass tried to think, but she could feel herself getting flustered. "Wouldn't his daimyo have known?" was the best she could come up with.
"Maybe, but what if he never bothered to find out?" Elrohir replied. "What if he was so enraged by the dishonor that Tojo had shown- dishonor that would have stained his reputation, that he didn't listen? That he just cast him out?"
"But," the priestess struggled. Arguments were her forte, and Talass didn't like to lose on principle, but she was unprepared for this. "Tojo did touch the oroyoi against the prohibitions, didn't he? Wasn't that a dishonorable act, if only by samurai standards?"
"Ahh," replied Elrohir raising a finger as if he had anticipated that. Talass found the gesture vaguely annoying.
"Remember what Tojo said about Tsugo's prophecy? That only a worthy descendant may wear the armor. Tojo is Tsugo's descendant, and while he may have acted dishonorably in touching the oroyoi without permission, Tsugo himself never mentioned that no one should touch it- only that his worthy descendant should be the only one to wear it! The added prohibition was added afterwards by the Yanigasawa daimyo, I'm sure."
Talass had by now gathered her mental footing.
"We can't be certain that Wabazetsu saw or felt nothing, Elrohir. His daimyo at the time might have stricken his account, or maybe Tojo is simply mistaken. And besides," she added, "Tojo himself doesn't feel that the vision he had makes him the Chosen One. Why would you assume you know better than him?"
Elrohir paused a moment before replying. Purely for dramatic effect, Talass thought.
"Tojo's account of the Battle of Haka, dearest. Remember the voice that Tsugo heard? The one that aided him?'
Talass stared at her husband for several seconds. Her mouth gaped open.
"Are you saying- that voice was Tojo's?"
The ranger nodded. "I think it might have been," he said quietly.
"That's impossible!" Talass shouted. "No magic could accomplish that!"
"I don't know, Talass! Maybe it could!" Elrohir shouted back. "I would never have dreamed of such a thing, but Lemontharz said once that Time can bleed. Maybe somehow, in some way we can't understand, a samurai in the here and now was able to give succor to his ancestor, two hundred years in the past." He raised an eyebrow. "I'd say that would make Tsugo's oroyoi every bit as powerful as it's reputed to be, don't you think?"
Talass was trying to swallow this concept, but it just wouldn't go down. "The Asgardians tell us that Time is immutable, Elrohir," she replied, shaking her head. "It can't be bent in the fashion you're describing. The thread of our lives is spun at birth by the Norns. Even a god cannot alter that destiny."
"But what if it wasn't bent?" Elrohir persisted. "What if what happened was what was supposed to happen all along? If Tsugo had died at the Battle of Haka, Tojo would never have been born, grown to manhood and been able to touch his ancestor's armor and complete the circle!"
Talass gazed at her husband in wonder, and an unexpected smile lightened her face. "When did you turn into such a philosopher, dearest?" she asked. "I still don't agree with you, but I must say I'm impressed."
Elrohir did not return the smile.
"Pray to our gods I'm wrong."
"Why?"
"Because," Elrohir said, fear creeping slowly into his voice, "the prophecy said that the chosen one was due to don Tsugo's armor in the Yanigasawa's clan greatest hour of need." He gulped. "If I'm right, when that hour came, their Chosen One had already been banished- by their own hand."
Talass couldn't speak.
"Tovag Baragu has sent six hundred years spinning by on Aarde, Talass," Elrohir stated. "I don't think the Yanigasawa clan made it that long."
They stared at each other.
"I've got to go tell Tojo," Talass murmured, turning to leave- and then gasped.
Elrohir had grabbed her wrist again, but this time with an iron grip.
"No," the ranger said simply.
"Elrohir, Tojo deserves to know this!" Talass replied, trying to yank her arm free. "You can't keep something this important from him!"
"Yes I can, dearest," her husband countered sadly but firmly, "and if you love Tojo as I do, you will remain silent, even unto his death."
"Are you insane?" Anger seemed to energize Talass as nothing else did. She sent a cold wave of fury at her husband through her eyes. "If this is true, it would make Tojo's sacrifice meaningless! He'd be killing himself for nothing! He needs this information in order to be able to make a rational decision, and would you kindly let go of my arm?"
Elrohir shook his head. "Not until you swear by Forseti not to breathe a word of this to Tojo."
"Keep dreaming," Talass snarled, and continued to try and pull free. Elrohir dug in and pulled back.
"Listen to me!" he yelled. "Aslan told me that obediance to one's daimyo is the one overriding aspect that rules a samurai's life! Even if he knows his lord is wrong, to question his commands is to show dishonor, a sin that's punishable by death! Besides, six hundred years have passed back on Aarde- Tojo's daimyo is dead whether I'm right or not! You heard him say time and distance don't matter to him!"
"But honor and dignity do matter to him!" Talass retorted, still pulling. "You're trying to spare him additional pain, Elrohir, but it's too late for that! Don't you see? It's keeping secrets like this that's led to this tragedy in the first place! If Tojo had told you what his problem was when he first met you, we could have helped him by now! You know that's true!"
"But that's not the kind of person he is! You can't make people the way you want them to be, Talass, even if it is for their own good!"
"They make themselves the way they are! And my part of that is to show them how honesty and justice can help make their lives better! That's what I do! It's not only my calling, it's my responsibility! Now let me go!"
"No!" her husband yelled. "I won't-"
He stopped dead. His wife had pulled out her holy symbol and was holding it out at him.
"I'll do it, Elrohir," she said. The cleric's firm voice belied the tears in her eyes. "Please don't make me have to."
"This is why I never got married," said a voice from besides them.
Husband and wife both jumped in surprise, Elrohir relinquishing his grip.
Aslan stood nearby, shaking his head sadly at them. Cygnus and Zantac stood on either side, slightly behind the paladin.
"I take it the post-petrification honeymoon is over?" Aslan asked wryly.
Talass stared at him. "How can you be so cavalier about this, Aslan? You of all people should be standing by me on this!"
The paladin sighed, running a hand through his beard. "Justice does demand that we tell Tojo, Talass."
The priestess smiled with satisfaction.
"But compassion demands that we don't," Aslan continued. "And on this day, I choose compassion."
Talass looked around. The two wizards, while not speaking, seemed to be in agreement with the paladin.
Defeated, the cleric's head sank. "And so we all take the burden of our dishonesty to our graves," she said to the ground beneath her feet.
"All of us but one, Talass. The most important one."
She raised her head to look again at her beloved.
"Tojo," the ranger whispered, unable to stop his own tears from starting up again.
Talass put her arms around her husband.
The others watched them cry.
"I don't know, Aslan," Zantac said at length, his own voice hoarse with emotion. "I think I'd rather cry with a spouse than cry alone."
Aslan seemed uncomfortable with the thought. "I suppose," he muttered, then sent his gaze towards the Bigfellow house. "We're lucky Argo didn't hear this. I know him. He'd be charging full-speed to tell Tojo, and I'd be doing everything in my power to stop him."
"I can't believe he didn't hear any of it," Cygnus said. "These two were shouting loud enough."
The paladin's expression was grim. "I daresay Argo has his own tears to contend with at the moment. Caroline's done us a service she never could have imagined."
"I can't do this, dearest," Talass was sobbing into her husband's shoulder. "I can't let him die! I saved him back at the stockade, and now I have to stand there and watch him end his own life! I can't do it!"
Elrohir looked in little condition to offer comfort himself, but he tried.
"It will be easier for Tojo if we're all there for him, dearest. I know it's going to be... hard. It's going to be very hard, but Tojo will finally be happy. You know more about our immortal soul than any of us, Talass. You know that tonight, Tojo will finally be free. He'll be as far away from his sorrows as we are from... from..."
The ranger suddenly twitched as if a small electric shock had hit him. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Talass gazed upwards at him. Her husband's face had on add, distracted air.
"What is it?" Talass asked, but Elrohir didn't look back at her. With a look that his wife knew meant he had an idea, the ranger glanced suddenly over to Aslan.
It was as if the the spark had jumped invisibly from one to the other.
"Aslan," Elrohir whispered. "Do you think- could it be possible?'
The paladin looked as if he were tamping down on an irrational hope. "It'd be a one in a million chance, Elrohir."
Talass looked between the two men. "What?"
Elrohir shrugged. "Everything we do seems to be one in a million, Aslan. What have we got to lose?"
Aslan hesitated a moment, and then abruptly swung around.
"Cygnus!" he barked. "In coin equivalent, how much do we have left of Icar's treasure horde?"
Cygnus told him. Aslan calculated in his head.
"Should be enough. Should be just about enough. Get it, Cygnus. Put all of it in a sack and bring it out here. Fast!"
The tall mage bolted for the inn.
"Would someone mind telling me what's going on?" Talass asked, trying hard to keep her voice below a shout.
"Tell her, Elrohir," Aslan said, as he started to take off his plate mail. "Zantac!" the paladin snapped. "Help me get this off!"
The wizard gave a start and then began helping clumsily. "I could do with a little information myself, Aslan." Zantac tried to keep his voice heard over the sound of various armor fragments hitting the ground. "Anything I should know?"
Aslan turned to him with an almost vicious smile. "Yes, Zantac. I'm teleporting to Willip- and you're coming with me."
The magic-user looked over to Talass frantically, but the cleric was glaring at her husband now, her right hand wrapped around the front of his yukata robe. Her left hand still held her holy symbol.
"Start talking, dearest," she smiled, the promise of a threat in her tone perhaps half-real.
Elrohir smiled down at his wife.
"Lemontharz also talked to me about artifacts," he said. "Especially after that disasterous experience we had with Yagrax's Tome. He said there were two things all artifacts and relics had in common."
"And what was that?" the cleric asked as Cygnus came running back, a large sack in one hand. The tall mage almost tripped in his haste to hand it over to Aslan.
"First," the ranger said, "once you find them, you'll usually wish you hadn't."
Talass considered. She couldn't argue with that. "And the second?"
And for the first time today, Elrohir smiled.
"They get around, dearest. They get around."
The paladin was standing amidst the debris of his armor by now. "Err, Aslan," Zantac began. "How about I go change and get you a-"
"No time, Zantac!" the paladin shouted. "We're going as is! I had to dump my plate to carry both the treasure and you!"
The mage glanced down in panic at his somewhat unflattering yukata robe. "What? You mean I have to go dressed like this?"
Aslan clamped his right hand down hard on the magic-user's shoulder while hanging onto the sack with his left. "I'm in my damn underwear, Zantac! You really think anyone's going to notice you?"
"You know, this wasn't quite the triumphant return I had-"
Elrohir, Talass and Cygnus stared at the spot where Aslan and Zantac had stood moments before. Cygnus turned to their party leader.
"And exactly what type of miracle should we praying for this time, Elrohir?"
Elrohir told them.
The western horizon seemed to glow.
Yellow only minutes before, an orange light now suffused effortlessly into a pale blue and purple sky, a combination only nature could pull off.
Swallows darted around, catching their fill of mosquitoes before retiring for the evening.
A light breeze tickled the strips of fabric dangling from two CLOSED signs.
Soft whickers and whinnies came from a stable.
Five people stood silently outside a front door, each one staring around them at a scene that changed only in the amount of ambient light.
Caroline Bigfellow turned back to her husband, the tears still streaming down her face.
"They should have been back by now, Argo. They should have been back."
Without so much as a whisper, the sun touched gently down upon the rim of the Oerth.
And Yanigasawa Tojo appeared again on the upper landing of the staircase in the Brass Dragon.