6th Day of Sunsebb, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
The inn had never seemed so quiet to Thorin.
On one hand, the child didn't care. The mere fact that his father had consented to bring him back here, even if only for a few days (courtesy of Uncle Aslan, of course), was cause for celebration. Thorin was overjoyed beyond words to be with his extended family again. While the news of Sequester's death and Gylandir's departure had hit the boy like a gut punch, there were still Perlial and White Lightning to talk to, and Dudraug and Grock to play with.
On the other hand, there was Tojo.
Seeing the samurai like this was so frightening to the child that he had barely been able to mumble, "Hello, Uncle Tojo," to the figure sitting in the padded chair in the Tall Tales Room. Tojo, his face frozen into what seemed like a permanent mask of apathy tinged with sorrow, had responded with a barely visible nod but said nothing.
Thorin wanted to stay with Tojo, to comfort him, just to be there for him, but the feelings of despair rushed up so quickly in the child's stomach that it was all he could do not to sprint from the samurai's presence. Once he had left the Tall Tales Room however, Thorin had made no show of restraint about bolting out of the inn and throwing up outside as surely as if he had swallowed an entire pint of green goop.
But now he was back, sitting next to his father on one of the couches. Argo and Caroline occupied the other one. Thorin had not seen Caroline relinquish her grip on her husband's hand in the entire hour he had been here.
Elrohir was sitting in the other padded chair, while Aslan, Zantac and Nesco stood nearby. Laertes would poke his head in sometimes, but it was early evening; the dinner meal was underway in the common room, and the half-orc was needed as both cook and server.
This was another of the party's "brainstorming" sessions; the first one Thorin had attended since his arrival two days ago. The child had insisted; close to demanded, actually, that he be brought up to speed with what was happening to Tojo. The samurai had not objected- as usual nowadays, he had barely responded- so it had been done, but the child's head still felt full to bursting with even the stripped-down version he had been given.
Thorin had not been told the particulars of Yanigasawa Tojo's dramatic close brush with seppuku this past Flocktime, almost seven months ago, so that had come first. And now, like an unexpected full course served at a meal, a ton of new information was being added onto that.
The boy had voiced optimism at the beginning that at least Tojo was not objecting to these sessions, as he had apparently done so last time so vehemently, so there seemed to be cause for hope. Cygnus had grimly responded that was only because Tojo, as was so readily apparent, just didn't care anymore.
No one had seen the samurai eat or drink anything for days. He'd probably uttered less than a dozen words, and he certainly did not look like he had slept. When he wasn't cloistered in his room upstairs, he was sitting in the same chair he occupied now, staring with unseeing, bloodshot eyes at the floor.
But perhaps the most disturbing thing of all, for Thorin anyway, about looking at Uncle Tojo was not what the boy was seeing. It was about what he was not seeing.
For the first time since he had known Yanigasawa Tojo, the samurai was no longer wearing his daisho- his twin swords.
The mark of a samurai.
Elrohir, Aslan and to a lesser extent Argo, had filled Thorin in on their encounter with Dumovar and what had happened after the rogue's escape. Gryrax's dramatic crime wave had abruptly ceased. It was unknown whether the outcast was lying low or whether he had slipped out of the city to renew his robberies elsewhere, but Elrohir and his friends weren't given the opportunity to find out.
To no one's surprise, the Darkeye clan was furious with the four humans who had, in their judgement, blatantly interfered with their attempt to catch Dumovar. The outcast's ungodly luck notwithstanding, the clan had decided Elrohir and his friends were responsible for their failure to catch the mosgrim. A "council of inquiry" had even been convened to determine if legal charges were to be brought against them, but in the end, they were simply told in no uncertain terms that their services were no longer required in this matter. Now that the culprit behind all these crimes had been positively identified, along with his primary weapon, the entire resources of the city, and not just the Darkeye clan, were being brought to bear on the matter. The dwarves seemed confidant that their quarry would soon be either imprisoned or dead.
Tojo had not made one word of protest when Aslan had teleported them home.
And now, here they were.
Thorin's presence at this session had been permitted only after both Aslan and Cygnus, both looking as stern as Thorin had ever seen them, had extracted a promise from him beforehand that the subject of whether Tojo's daimyo had indeed betrayed him or not was not to broached directly to the samurai no matter what. They could discuss it among themselves; even in front of the samurai, but they were not to ask Tojo anything about this subject at all costs.
"But why not?" Thorin had asked, bewildered beyond measure by this. "If his lord did betray him, wouldn't that release Tojo from any oaths he'd given him?"
"No, Thorin," replied Aslan with a heavy sigh. "It wouldn't."
"But," Thorin stammered. This was impossible for him to grasp. "But-"
"Son," Cygnus said, both hands grasping his son's shoulders firmly now, "the code that Tojo lives under is nothing like anything we know or have seen elsewhere."
"To question his daimyo," the paladin continued, "no matter the nature of that lord's orders or behaviors, is to dishonor him, and to dishonor one's lord is the worst sin a samurai can commit in Nipponese culture."
Equal parts sadness and anger ran through Thorin.
"But that's not fair!" he shouted, his eyes suddenly watering.
"Maybe, but that's the way it is," said his father, tightening his grip just enough for the child to notice. "And if you can't accept that, son, you're not coming into that room with us."
"All right. I promise," Thorin had replied, fearful of not being allowed to participate. "But," the child just couldn't stop himself from using that word, "doesn't Tojo's code grant him any avenue of protest in a situation like this?"
In response, Cygnus withdrew his hands, looking over at Aslan as he did so. The paladin took a step towards Thorin and bent down, so that they were nearly face-to-face.
It seemed to the child that Aslan was making a serious effort to keep the tears out of his own light blue eyes.
"There most certainly is, Thorin," he said softly. "Seppuku. Ritual suicide."
Thorin suddenly lost all the saliva in his mouth.
He had not spoken a word since.
"I'm still not entirely convinced those pearls are cursed," Cygnus was saying now, glancing cautiously at Tojo before settling his gaze over at Elrohir. "I know we're still hazy on some of the chronology, but we know that necklace was in the Dreadwood for several hundred years, at least. How on Oerth could the elves have missed that? Dumovar had that damn thing for just over one year and look what those pearls did to him!"
Elrohir gazed at his hands, folded in front of him, before replying to the tall mage.
"I think motivation and desire are the keys here, Cygnus. Consider: if the pearls are cursed, then the first Dreadwood elf to don the necklace would have quickly realized that fact. However, he or she would have realized almost as quickly that they were suddenly the beneficiary of unceasing good fortune. Now, what would that elf have done with that knowledge?"
The ranger looked around at his friends. Thorin was reminded of the many classes he'd attended at Hidden Jewel. Everyone looked thoughtful, but no one said anything.
Thorin was no elf, but he had lived with them for longer than anyone here except Uncle Elrohir, and he thought he just might know the answer.
Slowly, the boy raised his hand.
Involuntary chuckles broke out around the room (Had even Tojo raised his eyes for a moment? Thorin wasn't sure). The child flushed with anger; he considered himself an equal here and was about to say so when he realized that the laughter wasn't a reaction to his participation in this discussion but rather the schoolboy way in which he had responded. Thorin flushed again, but this time with embarrassment, which wasn't nearly as bad. The momentary smiles he had seen around him even helped to ease the suffocating tension in the room, if only a little.
"Well," Thorin cleared his throat," I don't think the elf would have done much of anything with it, Elrohir." He shrugged. "If you asked most of the elves I know what their greatest desire is, they'd probably ask you what day of the week it was."
He saw Nesco and Zantac looking at him with puzzled expressions.
"Elves in general don't seem to have the burning desires and ambitions that other races do," Thorin explained, trying hard not to sound pompous or condescending. "What they want most changes from day-to-day. Their lifespan is long enough that, sooner or later, they can achieve any long-term goal they might have."
Elrohir smiled. "Exactly, Thorin. Brilliantly put."
The child flushed a third time and tried to look modest.
Cygnus seemed to be wrestling internally with this idea.
"But," he said at length, "this scenario would require our hypothetical, selfless elf to knowingly will a cursed item to their child upon their death- and for that scenario to repeat itself over and over."
"Hell of an inheritance," Argo put in with just the hint of a smile.
"That's not as far-fetched as it sounds, Cygnus," said Elrohir. "After several hundred years, I'd imagine a parent of any race would know their child well enough to determine if they could handle such an item."
"My parents knew I was trouble in less than ten," Nesco deadpanned.
"But the potential for tragedy would still have been tremendous." Zantac now joined the conversation. "I admit I know next to nothing about this kind of thing, but what about all the other Dreadwood elves living with this one family? They didn't care about this dangerous relic being in their midst? Or did they not even know?"
"Couldn't tell you, Zantac," Elrohir replied. "Elves are notoriously private beings by human standards because of their desire for self-reliance. They may not have known and even if they did, it's a sure bet they wouldn't share that knowledge with outsiders."
"Remember," added Aslan, "Elrohir, Cygnus and myself lived in the Dreadwood for a short time after our initial arrival here on Oerth, and none of the elves around us ever mentioned anything about a relic or a string of pearls."
Cygnus fell silent, apparently conceding the point.
"But," Caroline Bigfellow now spoke up, "this brings up what seems to me to be an even more fundamental issue."
The others looked at her.
Caroline hesitated, trying to determine exactly how to phrase her thought while glancing anxiously at Tojo. While the samurai had given them leave to freely talk about this in his presence, no one wanted to mention Tojo in the third person; to talk about him as if he wasn't here.
Lady Bigfellow took a deep breath and began. "If these pearls are cursed, how did that happen in the first place? And why? We were told," Caroline paused for a second before resuming, "that the pearls were a gift to this Hamakahara from a goddess; and not just any goddess, but a goddess of luck!'
Everyone pondered this in silence.
"My love has a point," said Argo, squeezing his wife's hand in a show of support. "I don't know about the rest of you, but to me the phrases good fortune and cursed don't mix all that well."
It was Aslan who broke the silence that followed.
"You're right. They don't," said the paladin. "And if the Pearls of Hamakahara are cursed- and I think the general consensus here is that Dumovar wasn't lying and they indeed are- then that occurred after their creation. We know," Aslan continued, employing the same verbal gymnastics that Caroline had used, "that Sabero tricked Hamakahara somehow into giving him the pearls. To me, that's incontrovertible proof that the necklace wasn't created as a cursed item."
"So now, we're back to who did curse them, and why?" said Zantac.
Something odd happened to Thorin at that moment.
Almost as if he was dropping off to sleep, the child had a sensation that the Tall Tales Room was pulling away from him. All the voices grew indistinct as something seemed to pull at him.
It was like a dream was trying to start in his head.
No; not a dream. Not exactly. A thought. An idea of some kind, but Thorin could only sense its existence. He could sense nothing of what this idea might actually be.
And then it was gone. Thorin was back. His head snapped up as if he had just woken up from dozing off, but no one seemed to have noticed.
Even more curiously, no time seemed to have passed.
"I think," Caroline Bigfellow said cautiously, looking at Tojo out of the corner of her eye as if expecting, or fearing, a reaction, "that it was Sabero himself."
There was no reaction from the samurai, but the other seven people present stared at her.
"Why do you think that, Caroline?" asked Aslan, sounding more curious than skeptical.
Caroline stood up and spread her hands as she spoke, as if trying to give added weight to her idea.
"It makes sense, if you think about it," the young woman said. "If a semi-divine being like an Earth Spirit Emperor couldn't handle the power of the pearls, what chance would a normal human have? There are no elves in Nippon, as I understand," Caroline looked around for confirmation from Elrohir and Aslan and received it, "so Sabero must have known there was no one else he could have entrusted the necklace to. We now know for certain that he took the pearls from Aarde to Oerth so that even someone who knew about the necklace would never be able to track it down, but that still would have left open the possibility of someone evil or unworthy here on Oerth learning about the relic. By cursing the necklace and then donning it himself, Sabero would have ensured that no one could trick him the way he had tricked Hamakahara. They'd have to kill him to get the necklace and when you have unstoppable luck as your ally, I don't think that's likely to happen."
She gave the paladin a sad smile. "I think you've seen that for yourself, Aslan."
"Wouldn't the pearls have corrupted this Sabero then, though?" queried Nesco.
"I'm not sure," admitted Caroline. "Sabero's only overriding desire that we know of was to keep the pearls safe; remember, he exiled himself forever from his homeland to do that, so, just like our Dreadwood elves, there may have been nothing else for the curse to latch onto, so to speak."
Trembling slightly, Lady Bigfellow sat back down.
"Hate to play archdevil's advocate," Zantac spoke up again, "but would this Sabero even have had the ability to place a curse on a powerful relic like that?"
Everyone present involuntarily looked at Tojo, but the samurai made no response or acknowledgement of any kind. He continued to sit hunched over, staring at the floor.
"We don't know," Aslan said at last, his expression frustrated with their ignorance. "Sabero is a legendary figure from deep in Nippon's past. Little of actual historical fact is known about him."
The paladin's face grew thoughtful.
"But if he was powerful enough to travel from one of the Three Worlds to another, then I wouldn't put anything past his abilities. Remember, barriers have been put in place to discourage just such travel. We know that from Lemontharz."
Elrohir and Cygnus nodded in agreement.
Zantac shrugged. "Okay. I've got nothing else."
Argo Bigfellow Junior slowly stood up, the big ranger's expression uncommonly grim.
"Now we tread ever closer to the dark heart of this matter," he announced. "We are agreed that the Pearls of Hamakahara are cursed, and we are agreed that Sabero- a native of Nippon- was the one who did so."
Everyone nodded and eyed him curiously; none without some mixture of puzzlement and apprehension.
"The central question then becomes," Argo continued, looking around him, "did anyone else in Nippon know the pearls had been cursed?"
Tojo's right hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed.
Thorin gasped. He knew exactly what Argo was asking.
Bigfellow may have uttered the words "anyone else," but the child- and everyone else here, he suspected- knew what Argo really meant was Tojo's daimyo.
Thorin opened his mouth and was about to ask a question when it happened again.
The Tall Tales Room vanished, although it wasn't replaced by anything in particular. Vision seemed to become something superfluous to Thorin; something he didn't need any longer.
The idea was more important. Something; something about Tojo's daimyo.
And once again, Thorin was back, unsure if he had ever left at all.
Maybe it was just sleep deprivation. Thorin didn't think he'd slept much more than Tojo had in the past two days. The boy was terrified that his father or someone else might see him nodding off and order him out of the room.
But again, no one seemed to have noticed anything.
"I know this may be a foolish question," Nesco ventured, a faint blush suffusing her cheeks as, like Tojo, she looked down at the floor, "but does it make a difference if they-"
She took a deep breath and looked up.
"- if he knew if they were cursed or not?"
Argo smiled kindly at her.
"It's not a foolish question at all, Lady Cynewine," answered Argo. "The reason it matters is-"
He broke off.
The others waited expectantly as they watched Argo struggle to find the right words.
The safe words.
The big ranger's face went from thoughtful to concentrating to frustrated in a matter of seconds.
"Damn it all!" Argo suddenly shouted and then, before anyone could say or do anything, strode over to stand directly in front of Tojo.
"Yanigasawa Tojo-sama, I address you directly!"
The samurai's face snapped up to look into Argo's auburn eyes. He frowned, and the vacant mask was replaced by a hard glare.
His right fist clenched again but did not relax.
Argo gestured with both hands, palm down as he lowered them in what he hoped was a calming move. He'd seen Aslan use it many times.
" I understand and respect the one request you made of us, Tojo-sama," Bigfellow said. "We will not dishonor you by violating it, but the truth about the Pearls of Hamakahara and the quest you received to retrieve them hinges on this matter, and it is not possible to reference it without referring to you. I hate talking about you like you're not here, but these circumstances leave me no choice!"
Like his wife, Argo was gesturing now, but in his case it was in frustration and not for emphasis.
"My dear friend," Argo continued. His voice was low now and carried a tremor that Thorin could not remember ever hearing in it before.
"I'm not trying to save you from death, Tojo-sama, like we were last time."
And this time Argo's gesture; a hand held out towards Tojo, was all too easy to interpret. The big ranger was referring, not to the samurai they all knew and loved, but to the wretched and apathetic man he had become.
"We're trying to save you from life," Argo finished. "This life. A life no one deserves, and no one less so than the honorable samurai Yanigasawa Tojo."
For a moment, there was no response.
And then Tojo's face resumed its former expression, but perhaps there was a bit more sadness and a bit less apathy now.
He gave Argo a brief nod and then dropped his eyes to the floor again.
Argo Bigfellow Junior walked slowly back to the couch and sat down again.
Only now did Thorin notice the beads of sweat that had broken out on the big ranger's face as Argo took a deep breath and wiped them away.
"So," Bigfellow continued, a weak smile on his face now, "umm, where was I?"
"You were about to tell us why it matters whether Tojo's daimyo knew?" Nesco reminded him.
"Ah, yes." Argo nodded. "Well," he said, having recovered his mental footing now as he looked around the room, "we have to start by remembering that Tojo's daimyo gave him two possible avenues of redemption. Not just one."
"Yes," acknowledged Elrohir. "The other way was to find and defeat another samurai in honorable combat." He frowned. "But Argo, Tojo told us why that was an impossibility. His dastana-"
"Actually," Nesco Cynewine cut in softly, "it didn't matter if Tojo won or lost. All that mattered is that it had to be an honorable fight."
And she remembered Tojo's violet eyes shining into hers just before the samurai dove into combat with the blind Icar.
"No matter what happen, I win."
"Quite correct," Argo confirmed with a nod at his fellow ranger. "But for us to discover the truth, we all need to remember one very important fact."
"Just one?" asked Aslan, with his poor imitation of Argo's pained smile.
Argo gave him the genuine article in return.
"Yes. And that is the fact that Tojo offered to commit seppuku. He offered to kill himself to atone for the sin of touching that sacred armor, and his daimyo refused!"
There was silence again for a while.
"Not sure where you're leading with this, Argo," Zantac eventually offered.
"If Tojo's daimyo felt that Tojo's sin was so great that ritual suicide was not enough to atone for it, as Tojo himself here has told us," Bigfellow elaborated, "then his daimyo had to give him a legitimate means of redemption! Dangerous, difficult, even an epic quest of legend perhaps, but he had to give him that option! The code of bushido would have demanded it and as we've seen, the option of an honorable samurai duel wasn't it!"
Everyone present slowly digested this.
"Then why would Tojo's daimyo even have given him an option that he knew was impossible?" Cygnus asked.
Argo's face fell.
"Don't know, Cygnus," he said, with another glance at the unresponsive Tojo. "Maybe he felt that by giving him one actual path to redemption, as remote as it may have been, he could toss in a fake one under the guise of appearing magnanimous. It may also have been his way of rubbing it in Tojo's face. This Yashimoto fellow must have been really enraged not to accept an offer of seppuku. From what Tojo has told us, that's not a common occurrence at all."
"This Yanigasawa Yashimoto is- was," Elrohir corrected himself, remembering Tovag Baragu, "not just Tojo's daimyo, he was his uncle as well. Adding a direct family bond to the samurai-daimyo relationship…"
The ranger shrugged and fell silent. No one needed him to continue.
Aslan suddenly took a deep breath.
"Now I understand," the paladin said, looking over at Argo. "You're thinking that if Tojo's daimyo knew the pearls were cursed, then that would make that quest impossible as well and therefore invalid."
Aslan shook his head sadly. He seemed about to say more but Elrohir stood up now.
"I'm sorry, Argo," he said softly. "But you're wrong."
Thorin looked around the room, the despair which had been in the process of being displaced by hope suddenly returning like an unexpected storm.
Elrohir, Aslan and Cygnus all seemed to be wearing the same expressions of disappointment.
"It doesn't make a difference," Elrohir continued. "Even if both quests were invalid, that still doesn't let Tojo off the hook."
"For a lesser samurai, maybe," Aslan expounded. "They might renounce their lord and become masterless; ronin, I think Tojo called them. Or he might simply swear fealty to another daimyo."
"But both of those options would technically be a violation of bushido," said Elrohir. "A truly honorable samurai (and here he gestured at Tojo) would never choose such a path.'
"In all honesty," Cygnus spoke up. ""I don't think the fact of those pearls being cursed makes any difference at all. I don't see that as being a hindrance in any way to Tojo's ability to complete that quest. In fact, it would make it easier! By the gods, what other desire has Tojo ever expressed to us other than the one to regain his honor? With that necklace, he'd make a beeline for Nippon once he found a way to get back to Aarde, and no one or nothing could have stopped him!"
The wizard finished with a deep breath by spreading his hands apart in a resigned gesture.
"But I'm with Elrohir and Aslan on this one, Argo. Whether Tojo was betrayed by his daimyo or not, the fact remains that he failed to find and retrieve the Pearls of Hamakahara, so his quest remains unfulfilled."
Bigfellow gritted his teeth. "You're not getting it. Tojo told us that samurai mean only what they say. That means-"
"Argo!" Elrohir shouted as frustration overwhelmed him. "All you're doing is making it easier for Tojo to kill himself!"
This time, Thorin was literally yanked away.
The child seemed to be tumbling through space, although he knew that wasn't accurate, as he had no body to tumble with- and there certainly wasn't any space for him to tumble through.
But there was that idea.
An idea that almost felt like being rubbed up against his skull- something for Thorin to look at, to examine- and to understand
It was about Tojo's daimyo. More specifically, it was about the quest Tojo's daimyo had given him. More specifically, it was something simple about it. Something so simple-
It was…
What is it? Thorin's mind screamed out into the void. What are you trying to say? Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?
The vision, or experience, or projection or whatever one wanted to call it suddenly ended.
But Thorin was not in the Tall Tales Room anymore.
He was standing perhaps fifty yards away from the Brass Dragon.
It was late morning; close to midsun and not evening as it had been moments before. Furthermore, it was a cloudless day in contrast to the thick clouds that covered most of the sky when Thorin had followed Aslan and his father into the inn for this painful and probably futile attempt to save whatever might be left of their samurai friend.
The air was warm, too. Springtime warm, not the cold of Sunsebb, the last month of the year.
Thorin looked around. Uncle Elrohir, Aunt Talass and Barahir; the latter closer to a baby than the toddler he was now, were maybe thirty or forty feet away. Barahir was yanking up handfuls of colorful wild spring flowers and tossing them into the light breeze. The ranger and his wife, both wearing normal clothes instead of armor, were squatting down beside their son, laughing and saying something to him that Thorin couldn't hear.
Shouts of joy and encouragement came from above. Thorin looked up to see Uncle Argo and Aunt Caroline astride Gylandir and Sequester, wheeling around in the sky. It seemed like each pegasi was trying to catch the other's tail, egged on by their respective riders.
A lump caught in Thorin's throat at the sight of the pegasi, but he tore his gaze from them and continued to examine his surroundings.
Aslan's cabin was there, but Nesco and Zantac's new one wasn't. In fact, the Bigfellow cabin wasn't where it was supposed to be, either.
I'm in the past, Thorin realized. A year ago, maybe two. But why?
"Hey, kid wizard!'
Something flew into Thorin's field of view from his left. By pure instinct, he managed to reach out and catch it.
It was a small leather waterskin that had been filled with sand and then tightly sewn up into a ball.
"You forget how to play catch?" the same voice called out.
With both incredible slowness and an amazing rapidity- because both were possible here- Tojo turned his head towards the source of that voice. A voice that he knew so well- that engendered both unspeakable joy and now-an unbearable sadness.
Thorin's best friend in the whole wide world was standing there.
Tadoa Falail smiled at him.
"It's not that complicated, Thorin," he said.
A lightning bolt struck Thorin full in the chest, and he was suddenly back in the Tall Tales Room.
And this time, everyone noticed.
Even as he gasped and tumbled off the couch he had been sitting on, Thorin knew he hadn't actually been hit by a bolt of lightning but by the gods, it sure felt like it.
Pain, numbness and yet somehow, a strange tingling energy seemed to be coursing through the boy. The latter two feelings were fading but the tingling was, if anything, increasing.
Someone abruptly grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard.
"Thorin!" his father was shouting. "Are you all right? What happened?"
It took a few moments for the child to register this. That tingling seemed to be migrating from his body into his brain, where it took up residence there and began to take his thoughts apart.
Thorin looked around. Everyone was standing up and looking at him with concern etched into their faces.
Even Yanigasawa Tojo, although the samurai remained seated.
And at the sight of Uncle Tojo's face, that strange, unexplained energy in Thorin's head began putting his thoughts back together in new ways.
Cygnus' hand grabbed Thorin's jaw and yanked his face around to look back at him. The boy had seen his father in many emotional states before.
But he had never seen this fear.
"Aslan!" Cygnus called out. "We have to go to Willip! He needs a healer! This is some kind of curse-"
"No!" shouted Thorin.
The child removed his father's hand as he stood up. Cygnus remained kneeling, staring up at his son with obvious worry.
Thorin slowly began to back up against the far wall, next to the mounted head of the blue dragon Sandcats. He did this because he wanted to address all of them at once.
They all followed him with anxious eyes, Cygnus slowly rising to his feet with an assist from Nesco.
The tingling faded away, but Thorin's thoughts were clear now. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before.
He'd known it. All the pieces of the puzzle had always been right there in front of them. Why hadn't he seen it? Why hadn't any of them seen it?
"I understand," he said slowly, giving his body, his brain and tongue the time necessary to form the all-important words that were to follow.
"You understand what, son?"
Thorin had no recollection of his brain giving his face that specific command, but suddenly the widest smile the child had ever felt was washing across his face. From ear-to-ear.
He was so happy, his jaw hurt from it.
He spread his arms wide. He addressed them all, but his eyes glanced over to Tojo.
"None of this was necessary. Everything's going to be all right."
Thorin could feel the curiosity in the room start to melt into exasperation.
As he knew it would.
"Listen to me!" the child said, trying hard to keep his voice below a shout. "Uncle Argo had it right- or at least he was on the right track; I'm not sure which."
Argo tilted his head. A rare look on naked confusion was on the big ranger's face.
"Father! Uncle Elrohir!" Thorin pressed on. "You told me that samurai only mean what they say; no more, no less! That's why they don't swear oaths; a samurai's every utterance is an oath! If they say they're going to do something, it's considered good as done!"
Emboldened, the boy took a chance.
"Uncle Tojo! Isn't that right?"
Yanigasawa Tojo's expression held none of the happiness that was currently threatening to burst out of Thorin's every orifice. His initial expression of concern when Thorin had cried out and tumbled off the couch had transformed back into semi-apathy, but now brimmed with the same curiosity as everyone else's.
But in Tojo's case, it was covered by a thick layer of suspicion. A suspicion that, Thorin suspected, might cause him to race upstairs for his katana if he felt he was about to be dishonored further.
And it wouldn't be himself that the samurai would be using the sword on, Thorin knew.
Despite all this, Tojo slowly nodded- but then did more than that.
The samurai's voice was hoarse from thirst and disuse.
"This is so," he said quietly.
The others, amazed that Tojo had spoken, turned their attention back to the boy, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for a few more seconds.
For his part though, Thorin was starting to get frustrated again.
Can't they see it?
"And your daimyo; your lord," Thorin pressed on, still addressing Tojo directly. "He was once a samurai like yourself, right? He'd still be bound by your code of bushido just like you are, right?"
Tojo nodded again. The curiosity on the samurai's face was plainer to see now.
But Thorin still saw no hint of recognition there. Not from Uncle Tojo. Not from any of them.
"Don't you all understand?" cried out Thorin, but even as he did so the joy in his heart came crashing through and overwhelmed all his frustration.
He was now struggling to keep from bursting with laughter; a move that he knew might fatally wound the case he was trying to make.
"Son," Cygnus said firmly, "you're not making any sense, and unless you start right now, we're going to Willip, whether you want to or not."
Thorin knew he was running out of time. The boy took two steps towards Tojo.
"Uncle Tojo!" he yelled. "Tell us the quest your daimyo assigned you; the one about the Pearls of Hamakahara! Tell us the exact words that he used!"
Tojo just stared at him.
Aslan, the child noted out of the corner of his eye, was stroking his beard as he often did when the paladin was deep in thought. His light blue eyes flashed from Thorin to Tojo.
"Uncle Tojo," Thorin pleaded, his hands clasped together now. "Please…"
Tojo cleared his throat. It was bitterly evident this was not a memory he wanted rehashed, but for whatever reason, he acquiesced.
"Yashimoto-sama say," the samurai began, trying to keep the anger and pain out of his voice but not doing very well at either, "that I must go forth and find Pears of Hamakahara."
Tojo glared at Thorin, a scowl on his features now. "That is awe."
Everyone looked back at the child, expecting to see disappointment come crashing down on his face. What Tojo had just related what the same thing he had related to them the last time.
There was nothing new here. What else could there be?
But Thorin's face almost seemed to be glowing with excitement.
He took another step towards Tojo. One more and he'd be right in front of the samurai.
"Are you sure, Uncle Tojo?" he asked. "How certain are you that those are the exact words that he used?"
Argo's eyes flashed over to Aslan. Both of them seemed to be starting down the same path now.
Yanigasawa Tojo bristled. If it wasn't for the overwhelming sorrow that was battling with his anger over being forced to relive the worst moment in his entire life, Thorin was sure the samurai would have risen up and struck him.
I guess sometimes even sadness can be a gift, Thorin thought.
"Remember that day as if it were yesterday," Tojo said harshly. "Wirr arways remember it. Daimyo speak as I have said so."
"And was there a scribe present?" Thorin asked, his whole body trembling in anticipation now. "Were your daimyo's words being recorded?"
Curiosity again rose to the forefront of Tojo's features, although the suspicion remained as strong as ever.
"Of course," he replied after a long moment. "All important cran occasions- good and bad- are arways recorded. These papers stored in cran chapterhouse."
Elrohir's eyes suddenly went wide.
Thorin flung his arms wide, making no attempt now to contain the happiness that washed over him again.
"Than that's it, Uncle Tojo! Don't you see? Don't you all see? How simple it is? How simple it always was?"
"That's it, Thorin," said Cygnus, starting to move towards him. "You're not-"
"HE DID IT, FATHER!" Thorin screamed at Cygnus.
The tall mage halted, taken aback.
"YOU DID IT, UNCLE TOJO!" Thorin continued, now shouting directly at the samurai. "YOU DID IT! YOUR DAIMYO TOLD YOU TO FIND THE PEARLS OF HAMAKAHARA! NOT TO RETRIEVE THEM, NOT TO BRING THEM BACK TO NIPPON, BUT SIMPLY TO FIND THEM, AND YOU DID THAT!"
He finished by pointing directly at the samurai's face.
"YOU DID IT, UNCLE TOJO!" Thorin shrieked. "YOU'RE FREE!"
Time seemed to dissolve at that point, or at least, to function differently for different people.
For Zantac and Nesco, it was time enough to move to the door of the Tall Tales Room that had just opened and try to explain to a very unhappy-looking Laertes that yes, there had been an argument, but it was all over now and he could tell their customers that everyone would keep their voices down from now on.
"They won't lithen to me!" Laertes hissed. The teenager's expression mixed both anger and resignation.
"No one lithens to a half-orc."
"Use the obi," Nesco said suddenly. She knew the half-orc always kept it nearby. "They'll listen to you then."
"What?" Laertes said in surprise, before a scowl appeared on his face. He jerked his face towards Cygnus. "You know he thaid I'm not allowed to-"
"We're giving you permission," Zantac cut in.
His eyes met the ranger, and saw they were of one mind on this.
"We'll vouch for this, Laertes," said Nesco softly.
The half-orc rolled his eyes, muttered "humanth," and closed the door.
Zantac couldn't help but smile, drawing a curious glance from Nesco.
The Willip mage had just remembered the young elf Tadoa saying the exact same thing once before when the sounds of an argument had spilled out to the common room.
For Elrohir, Aslan and Argo, it was time enough for them to move to a private huddle and converse in near-whispers. The general consensus that emerged was cautiously optimistic but, as Aslan felt constrained to point out, the final interpretation of this discovery was going to be up to Yanigasawa Tojo, and no one else.
For Thorin and Tojo, time seemed like one eternal moment.
For the first few seconds, it was Yanigasawa Tojo who now looked like he'd been hit with a lightning bolt, but he had recovered with remarkable speed. A product of a lifetime's training in controlling your emotions, Thorin supposed.
The samurai's face now bore a look of such intense concentration that the child found it unnerving to witness.
It certainly wasn't the giant smile and expression of relief that Thorin had been hoping for, but it wasn't a curt dismissal, either.
The boy felt drained. He'd said his piece. All he could do now was wait.
"Son."
The separate timelines seemed to merge back into one as Thorin turned away from Tojo to confront his father. He saw the others do so, too.
Cygnus looked grim and tight-lipped, although there was obvious sorrow in his voice.
"I understand that this seems to make sense to you," the tall wizard began, shaking his head, "but what you're doing now is no different from what Aslan here tried to do seven months ago, and it didn't work then. Tojo himself said that we were trying to save him through trickery of words. Semantic wordplay won't work here."
"Cygnus."
The mage looked over at the sound of the paladin's voice, but then frowned.
He didn't see the expression of agreement and resigned commiseration that he had expected to see on Aslan's face. Instead, the paladin looked only thoughtful.
"I can't vouch for everything Thorin has said," Aslan continued, "but I can tell you this. He's dead right about what he said about Tojo's daimyo. If he had wanted Tojo to return the pearls to Nippon, he'd have said so. Nipponese; or at least the noble buke class that Tojo belongs to, don't make assumptions like we do."
"How certain are you of that, Aslan?" Cygnus responded coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Enough to risk Tojo's life on it? Are you that much of an expert on Nipponese culture?"
"No," Aslan admitted after a short pause, "but I do know that your word can't be your bond if people can't be sure of your words."
Cygnus did not seem inclined to concede the point, although he looked more pained than ever.
"Then tell me why, Aslan," he stated. "Tell me why Tojo's daimyo would bother assigning him the quest of finding the Pearls of Hamakahara if he had no intention of wanting Tojo to bring them back home. What would be the point?"
"What would be the point?" repeated Argo Bigfellow Junior incredulously, stepping forward. "You been sniffing ink fumes again, Cygnus?" He gestured expansively. "The greatest heroes of Nippon have been searching for those pearls for a thousand years! Just finding them would make up for Tojo's sin a hundred times over!"
"You're so eager to accept what Thorin is saying, but you still haven't answered my question," Cygnus insisted. "What would be the advantage to Tojo's clan if he found the pearls but came back empty-handed? Are you saying there was no other, equally difficult quest that he could have assigned Tojo? One that actually made sense? Like, say, to slay a dragon that had been ravaging the Yanigasawa lands?"
"I think," Caroline Bigfellow said slowly, looking over at Tojo now, "that Tojo would have quickly completed any other task his daimyo could have possible assigned him- and I think his daimyo knew that."
"I'm getting whiplash here," said Zantac with a grimace. "Are you saying that you do believe that Tojo's daimyo did in fact betray him, like that outcast said he did?"
Aslan shook his head. "Dumovar certainly had no first-hand knowledge of this situation," he said with a sigh, "and neither do we. We don't have enough evidence to know one way or the other whether Tojo's daimyo betrayed him or not, and since six hundred years have passed on Nippon," Aslan finished by reminding everyone of that fact, "we'll probably never know."
"Cygnus," added Elrohir, finally reinserting himself into the debate. "Look at it this way. We know the pearls are cursed. Suppose you're right, and Tojo's daimyo actually did intend for Tojo to bring them back to Nippon, and let's say that despite all odds, he did just that."
Elrohir took a deep breath.
"What do you think would have happened when Tojo showed up at his clan stronghold wearing those pearls; a necklace that couldn't be taken off?"
"That question presupposes that his daimyo knew they were cursed in the first place, Elrohir," Cygnus responded. "Even Aslan here has just confessed that we'll never know if that was true or not."
"So that," said Argo, his voice noticeably louder than usual, "brings us right back to Thorin's pronouncement just now."
The room went silent again as all eyes turned to Tojo.
Thorin made one last step to stand directly in front of the samurai, who still seemed unaware of the boy's, or anyone else's, presence.
With trembling hands, the boy reached out and took Tojo's right hand in both of his own.
The violet eyes came up, but they were still unfocussed.
"Uncle Tojo," Thorin said so quietly that the others had to strain to hear him, "no one knows the ways of the samurai, and of your homeland, as you do. I know you have fulfilled the quest your daimyo gave you, and so are free. But only you can accept that freedom."
Tears were now running down the boy's face.
"And I think," he continued, his voice breaking, "that a part of you doesn't want to accept that gift."
Thorin wiped his eyes clear and again looked at Tojo.
Yanigasawa Tojo was back. Those violet eyes were in the here and now, and they were boring directly into Thorin's brown ones.
Waiting.
Speech was becoming more difficult for Thorin by the second, but he went on.
"Because you've spent every day of these past five years blaming yourself, Uncle Tojo. Even though your sin resulted in the saving of Yanigasawa Tsugo and the actual birth of your clan itself…"
Thorin glanced over at Elrohir as he said this, worry coming back into his young face, but the ranger merely smiled and nodded.
Emboldened, Thorin continued.
"And you've carried that shame in your heart to this day. Even though you've saved my family, including my father, time and time again, you still think yourself unworthy. You suffer because you believe you're deserving of nothing else."
The child was crying again, but he didn't bother wiping the tears away.
"I know I'm just a gaijin child, Uncle Tojo, with no real understanding of bushido, but I do know you're one of the worthiest people I've ever had the-"
He gulped.
"- the honor of knowing."
Thorin suddenly let go of Tojo's hand, stepped back and bowed as deeply as he could.
Tojo's eyes left Thorin's face and began to dart around the Tall Tales Room..
"Uncle Tojo," the child continued, his voice almost unrecognizable now from crying, hiccups, and sniffling, "you know your daimyo- your uncle- better than anyone. And if you can accept that he, like all samurai, meant what he said, no more and no less, in giving you the task of finding but not retrieving the Pearls of Hamakahara, then it doesn't matter why he did it. It doesn't even matter if he betrayed you or not. What matters is that you completed the quest he assigned you- and regained your honor."
Tojo's lip began to tremble. It was obvious that an internal struggle, possibly even greater than those his friends had previously witnessed, was underway in the samurai.
"I'll only say one last thing, Uncle Tojo," Thorin said. I know that whatever decision you make will affect your entire life as a samurai, but you can't make it as a samurai."
One eyebrow raised.
Thorin, looking about ready to collapse, put his hands together in prayer right in front of the samurai.
"You were a man before you were a samurai, Tojo," the boy croaked out with the last of his voice. "and you will always be one. Please, make just this one decision- as a man."
Everyone in the room heard Cygnus gasp.
The tall mage seemed to sway on his feet for a moment, and then rushed to the end table by the chair that Elrohir had previously been sitting in. He yanked open the drawer and pulled out a large piece of parchment, wrinkled and festooned with food and drink stains.
All the others recognized it. It was the parchment containing Jinella's transcript of the final sending that Tadoa Falail had given them.
With hands shaking far worse than those of his son, Cygnus scanned the parchment to the passage he was looking for, and then began to read aloud.
"You are the most honorable person, elf or human, that I have ever known, Tojo-sama. I revere Tojo the honorable samurai, but I do not love him. I love Tojo the man. I love Tojo, with that great big, wonderful heart. I know it's there, Tojo. Give me a sign. Let it show."
And now it was Tojo who gasped.
Slowly, unsteadily, grasping the arm of the chair for support, he rose to his feet. Oddly, he looked up at the ceiling of the Tall Tales Room, like he was expecting to see something there.
The other stared at him. No one dared to move a muscle.
The samurai's violet eyes seemed to be travelling through time and space.
Still, no one moved. No one had any idea how much time was passing.
Then, very slowly, Yanigasawa Tojo nodded.
"Samurai," he announced to the room at large as loudly as he could in that cracked and dusty voice, "say what they mean. No more, no ress."
And now tears ran down seven faces as the strong and confidant expression that they had missed so dearly returned to that face.
Yanigasawa Tojo spread his feet apart and placed his hands behind his back, but he wasn't meditating. With each deep breath, the others could almost see the energy Tojo called chi flowing back into the samurai.
"My daimyo assign me task to regain my honor," he said. "Not know why he choose that task, but it not matter. I fufirr task; I find Pears of Hamakahara."
Tojo looked down at Thorin and placed his hand on the child's shaking shoulder.
And he smiled.
"I am free," he said softly.
Thorin nearly screamed as the boy suddenly found himself whirling around the room, and he wondered if that strange experience was happening a fourth time.
But it was only Yanigasawa Tojo, who had grabbed the child in a bear hug and was now swinging him around in sheer joy.
Tojo burst into tears again, but this time they were tears of joy as he clung to the samurai.
"Thank you, Thorin-sama," Tojo whispered in the boy's ear, using that honorific for the first time ever with him. "You have set me free."
The samurai's face was only a blur though his tears. But Thorin still smiled.
"I had help, Uncle Tojo."
Incredibly, Tojo nodded knowingly.
"I know, Thorin-sama," he whispered back. "I know. And I thank him, too."