The spiel: italics are Chinese but don't take my 'real' Chinese seriously; thanks to reviewers; characters and worlds belong to their respective authors, David Eddings and Rumiko Takahashi, used with their gracious (albiet tacit) approval. Be warned: this chapter's a long one. Onward!
Chapter 4: "What We Have Here Is a Failure to Communicate"
Too early the next morning, a hand shook Shampoo awake. Automatically she immobilized it, but then, blinking sleepily at a wide-eyed Delric, released it with an apology. Rubbing her eyes, she threw back the covers and immediately regretted it. The chill in the air seemed to be even more pronounced than yesterday, if only because she had finally gotten warm. Controlling her shivers, she shook out the top blanket and wrapped it around herself, hoping that her body heat still lingered. The rest she folded neatly, as Delric was doing, and handed them to him. He bowed silently in thanks, though he still watched her impassively. She wondered if she had broken some sort of social code, then shrugged it off. It never hurt to appease the help.
Bevier was already dressed and armored. He was in the middle of dousing the campfire. Noticing her new, crude attire, he nodded and said something too fast for her catch. He shook his head at her blank look and said in Chinese, "Good sleep? Cold." She nodded; despite the cold she had slept better than she since she had been dropped in the woods months ago. She felt ready to move, to confront whatever it was that she faced this time.
As it turned out, it was pretty similar to the previous day. Shampoo and Bevier continued their mutual language lessons as they traveled through the countryside. She was heartened by his skill and enthusiasm for learning Mandarin, eager for someone to talk to. It was tough going for her, though, which was no surprise but a definite problem. Though she hoped it wouldn't be necessary, if she stayed very long in this world she would need to learn Elenic before she could function independently of Bevier. She could sense his frustration with lack of language skills, and his frustration fed her own. They were also both having trouble with the nuances of each other's languages, and by lunchtime were reduced to making exaggerated consonants and watching each others' mouths with squinty-eyed concentration. The mostly silent Delric seemed amused by their efforts, although several times Shampoo caught him mouthing words along with Bevier.
The other problem they had was that Shampoo had a tendency to drop Japanese words in the mix, confusing Bevier even more. Her last five years in Nerima had given her plenty of practice in Japanese, and once Mousse and Great-Grandma had straggled off back to the tribe, she had few chances to speak in her native tongue. But she decided pretty quickly that while the Japanese words were easier for him to pronounce the Chinese, it was confusing enough as it was without dropping extra languages in.
It would be so nice to have a conversation with a friend, she thought wistfully. Even if it was just for a while, until I can get my hands on that box. She was a little disturbed by her own lack of initiative in getting the box from Bevier, actually. Her time in this world had not been so charming that she really wanted to prolong the stay. Yet once she began her pseudo-conversations with Bevier, she found herself not even thinking about getting home for great chunks of time. She was actually enjoying herself.
Not to mention, now that she wasn't in immediate danger of starvation and exposure, she found in herself a sudden curiosity about this new world. There were a lot of strange things that happened to the Nerima crew, and they had met some pretty strange people, but never had she been in or met someone from an entirely different planet. At first she had even thought that she had merely been sent back in time, until she had spied one of the stranger species of forest insect.
Apart from getting the chance to hang out with Mr. Gorgeous, Shampoo found herself wanting to improve her language skills enough to start asking serious questions about the land and people of Elenia. She had a momentary flash of her reception back home, if she came back this very night: "Wow, Shampoo, you were in another world? What was it like?" "Dirty, violent, medieval. Shampoo not see much of it." "Oh. Well, glad to see you then. Can I have a ramen?" Ugh, how depressing. This new determination fueled the lessons over lunch, and for once she paid more attention to Bevier's instruction than the food.
While she appreciated the regular meals, the unending offering of dried meat, bread and potato broth was already getting a little tiring. As they mounted and continued down the road, Shampoo eyed the saddlebags and wondered what kind of herbs and spices they might be packing. They might not have any, or they might just not care enough to use them. In the last few months she had found a couple of herbs in the forest similar to those of Earth, and she was willing to bet that she could find more along their route. If there was one thing she could use to win her companions over, it would be cooking.
She stretched and sighed happily in her saddle. This was going far better than she had expected.
.o.
Things were not going as well as Bevier had hoped. Certainly his tutelage in Putonghuan was progressing apace, but the aptitude was not reciprocal in his study partner. He knew, on an intellectual level, that some people simply did not have an ear for languages – Kalten being a pointed example – but actually trying to teach such a person made him feel like beating his head against a handy tree. Shanpu was happy, even eager, to listen to his instruction, and then forgot everything she learned as soon as something distracted her – which was often. He almost had the uncharitable feeling that she was doing it on purpose.
They also wasted most of the morning wrangling a conversation in mime, poor Putonghuan, and poorer Elene that, in essence, amounted to "Do you have any rosemary?" The result of this was also that their progress was stopped again, literally this time, while Delric and Shanpu sniffed and ahhhed over the box of dried herbs Delric had hidden somewhere in the packs. Shanpu tapped the box closed and said in Elene, "Shanpu cook please?" Delric hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
Bevier was so astonished that she had actually put together a sentence that he didn't really think about the underlying danger. Delric, warier of Shanpu's intentions, trotted up next to him after they had started moving again. "Do you think it'll be all right, letting her control our food?" he asked quietly. Bevier looked over at Shanpu, who was looking out over the fields. Her eyes bright and interested, a far cry from the sadness he had seen in them last night.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Bevier responded, equally quietly. "You gave her your own spices, and we know that they're edible. I doubt that she's hiding poison anywhere in that dress." His tone was light, but Delric's eyebrows went up anyway.
"No, not much room, is there?" he said slyly. Bevier looked back at him, polite and expressionless. Delric shrugged and moved back behind the two, smirking anyway. Bevier frowned, moving his stallion forward into a trot. He was going to have a talk with his servant before too much longer. It was hard enough maintaining a polite level of disinterest without leering comments that he was far too inclined to agree with.
For Bevier was, in fact, fully aware of how much he was attracted to the girl. There were a number of reasons for it, he knew. She was exotically beautiful, but Bevier had met any number of beautiful foreign women in the last year, and none of them elicited nearly the same attraction that he felt now. Her dress was revealing, but he had seen more skin on the women of Tamul. Being from another world made her that much more foreign, of course, particularly because of her hair color, but that also implied that she would return and would be thus unavailable. Perhaps that's not so much of a deterrent as a perk, he mused. Do I allow myself to be attracted to this woman – girl, really – because I have no hope with her? This was a bit of perversity he had never noticed in himself before, and the possibility bothered him. Bevier was not one for needless self-punishment.
Her close proximity in their travels did not help; as a member of the Church Bevier's exposure to women was usually limited, both in town and on the road. If nothing else, he usually favored the company of men in a mixed party, and it was an unusual necessity to keep a woman so close to him for so long. Also, though Shanpu seemed to be able to take care of herself, he recognized that in taking her along and feeding her, both of them were likely to confuse that relationship for something more serious.
He had noticed that Shanpu was attracted to him, but Bevier was used to that. Over a decade in the service of the Church had given him plenty of practice in ignoring much more subtle feminine advances, and having yet another starry-eyed, breathless ingénue hanging on his arm was not extraordinary. Bevier had become less and less inclined to brush her off, however, and when Shanpu's attentions slacked off that morning his relief was intense. Bevier was not used to caring much one way or the other and found the whole experience disquieting.
The intellectual puzzle that she posed was another lure. Bevier was regularly disappointed with the level of intelligence found in the women he encountered, and more intelligent woman always seemed to be unavailable for various reasons. (As a youth, he had scandalously espoused that the universities should allow ladies entry, if only so that conversations with them would not be so boring.) Though she could not yet offer intelligent discourse – and Bevier had no idea if she would, even were she completely fluent in Elenic – the very fact of her existence easily made her more interesting than every woman he had ever met. The problem with this lay in the fact that once that puzzle was 'solved', however that might be, he had no idea whether she would be as interesting to him. There was no sense in tying emotions to fleeting intellectual interest.
These attractions Bevier recognized, and understood. His religion and schooling had trained him to have a logical turn of mind, and dissecting the elements of attraction as he had just done was usually enough to keep him disengaged from any serious attachment. His life's mission lay with the Church, and he was perfectly fulfilled with that charge; attraction for women paled in the light of his love for God.
And yet, this attraction lingered. It defied logic, mocked his attempts at reason, thumbed its nose at his dedication to the Church. It made Bevier struggle, for the first time in years, to keep his friendly façade when she stretched in the morning, or performed one of her crazy stunts that showed the tiny red pantloons she was wearing under her tunic-dress. And there was another reason: Shanpu was far too young for him. Granted, not as bad as some of the other matches he had heard tale of, or even Sparhawk and Ehlana, but it disturbed Bevier that she was probably younger than his own beloved little sister.
He was still mulling over the situation by the time they stopped for the evening, once again camping in an untilled field. Shanpu practically leapt of the horse in her eagerness to be on the ground, and stood stretching while Bevier and Delric were still unpacking. She mutely insisted on taking the cooking utensils and foodstuffs away from Delric, and by the time they had finished getting enough wood for the evening, there was a decent fire, three coneys on a spit, and potatoes roasting in the coals. Bevier exchanged a surprised glance with Delric, both of them carrying an armload of wood.
"You didn't pack any rabbits, did you?" the knight said doubtfully, eyeing the sizzling meat.
"Nay, M'Lord. I didn't even see her move from the campfire, and we weren't that far away."
"Far enough, it seems... the simplest answer would come from just asking her, in truth," Bevier shrugged, trying to be casual. He could tell the manservant was a little wild-eyed.
"Shanpu, where rabbit?" He spoke in simplified Elene and pointed, hoping she would get the gist. She looked up at the two of them and grinned.
"Food, field," she told Bevier in her own language, using words he knew. She pointed out to the grass growing around them, made a snatching movement with one hand, then twisted an imaginary head with another. Then in accented Elene, "Whererabbit. Mmmm."
Bevier shrugged at Delric's skeptical expression. "I don't think she can get much more specific than that. It seems she has a knack for catching rabbits." With her hands, Bevier finished silently, the prickling of his scalp betraying his unease.
Delric snorted, but said nothing further. By the time the meat was done, both men were willing to put aside their concerns for a taste of the amazingly fragrant meal. Bevier didn't know what she did with the box of spices, but it turned the browned meat into a delicacy fit for lords, and the roasted potatoes were a welcome change from grainy broth. Their noises of enjoyment made Shanpu bounce and clap her hands, and she kept repeating, "Is good? Is good?"
"Is very good," Bevier said with a mouth stuffed with tuber. He swallowed and grinned at her, enjoying her enthusiasm. She flushed becomingly pink at his praise, and bounced back to the pile of supplies next to the tethered horses, chattering in Putonghua. There were cries of glee as she rummaged around in the bags, perhaps planning for the morning.
Bevier smirked at Delric, whose dour predictions of dinner had fallen so flat. The servant shrugged and said, "Beats my cooking, that's for sure. I don't mind being sent to the corner of the kitchen, believe me." He glanced back over at the horses and froze. Alarmed, Bevier followed his line of sight and was startled to see Shanpu gone. Dropping his plate, Bevier rose and scanned the clearing, worried. The girl was nowhere to be seen.
"Where-" Bevier began, and Delric started cursing under his breath.
"Should I saddle your horse, M'Lord?" Delric asked, interrupting his profane litany. "I don't know if we could catch her."
Bevier gritted his teeth. "And follow her where, exactly? Did you see where she went?"
"Nay, she was just gone, M'Lord."
Bevier growled in frustration and indecision, eyes scanning the copse of trees to the east. "Maybe she went to get more rabbits," he said, not really believing it. Bevier crouched next to his horse, scanning the ground for tracks, and Delric reluctantly began saddling the horses for the search that must follow.
"Food!" came a sudden cheery call from behind them. Bevier would have leapt in fright had he not been wearing a six stone weight of armor, though Delric more than made up for it. Both men whirled to see Shanpu skidding to a halt next to them, tilled earth pillowing up in front of her foot as if stopping a great force. She held a handful of apples, and was slightly out of breath.
The looks on their faces made Shanpu's happy smile falter. "Eehto, bad food?" she asked uncertainly, holding out the apples.
Bevier just looked at her for a moment, speechless. Delric strode toward her and gripped her arm angrily, shaking her hard enough that an apple slipped out of her grip. "You stay with us, understand? You" - he poked her - "stay" - he pointed to the ground - "with us" - and gestured toward himself with a thumb.
While it was exactly the sort of thing Bevier had been tempted to do, the idea did not seem as wise once he caught sight of Shanpu's expression. One eyebrow arched over flat and angry violet eyes, her mouth thin. She glared first at the hand gripping her arm, then slowly lifted her eyes up to meet Delric's, snarling in a clear, icy tone, "Ni. Fang." Despite his anger Delric dropped her arm and stood back a pace.
Haughty now, she continued to chatter sharply as she picked up the apple and made her way to the supplies. Bevier could catch none of it, but she pulled out a honeycomb and gestured with it and the apples toward the fire. "Ne?"
"Dessert," Bevier said flatly. "She went to get dessert." Both relief and the ridiculousness of it made him grin suddenly, although neither of his companions seemed to appreciate the humor. Delric and Shanpu stood glaring at each other for a moment longer, until Bevier pointedly turned his back and sat back down.
The other two settled more gingerly around the fire, Delric watching her with distrustful eyes. At her exasperated question, "Good food, yes?" Bevier finally told her that it was, in fact, good to eat. Nodding, she set the honeycomb down on a clean rock, grabbed an apple and, gripping it firmly between both hands, ripped it apart like there was an invisible seam. Astonished, Bevier took a half of the apple and examined it as she did the same with the other two. Delric's gaze narrowed further.
Trying to keep things normal, Bevier started pointing and naming things as she cooked, and her good humor seemed to restore itself as she cooked and talked. First she drizzled honey in the center of the split apples, then bound them back together with a piece of twine. Using a stick, she dug three holes in the ashes, and sat back finally with a pleased look. "Honey apples," she made Bevier say in Putonghua. Then she repeated it back in Elene at Bevier's urging.
No more words were exchanged about her sudden disappearance, but Shanpu and Delric watched each other mistrustfully for the rest of the evening, even as they polished off the apples. (Bevier did not fail to notice that she deliberately saved Delric the bruised one.) The knight was somehow left out of the hostilities, to his relief, and her reactions were at least instructive. She did not allow forcible handling of her person, that much was clear. Her speed in arriving, seemingly out of nowhere, bordered on the eerie, but to his relief Bevier's senses told him that there little magical influence in it. Is this another property of being from her world? he wondered. It does not bode well for her acceptance in this one.
To further complicate things, it also looked like she was one to hold a grudge. The atmosphere the next morning was chilly in both temperature and mood. Fortunately, between Delric's duties and the language lessons, Shanpu did not have much time to interact with him. Relations were strained, but functional. Delric kept an eye on her throughout the day, which she ignored, and Shampoo glared when he got too close, which he disregarded in turn. Delric did not reclaim his cooking duties, though, which Bevier noted with muted amusement.
Their routine continued unchanged for another three days, though the attitude between Delric and Shanpu gradually thawed when neither made any overtly hostile movements. She did disappear several more times, but she came back so consistently, with food in hand, that eventually Delric accepted that she was not trying to run away. Moreover, it altered Bevier's vision of their relationship with the girl, since her demonstrated ability to disappear at will put a damper on the perception of the men as captors. It was hard to imagine catching a girl that could cover a hundred feet in a heartbeat or two.
Even after a few days, Bevier wasn't quite sure what to make of Shanpu. It was too easy to think of her as a brainless adolescent, until he remembered that her presence here was unexplained and undoubtedly significant. Was Shanpu truly what she seemed, or was there some dark machination hidden beneath an innocent façade? The longer he rode beside her, the more he thought it was unlikely. Her giggling happiness was periodically interrupted with bouts of quiet homesickness, which he didn't think could be faked. Bevier thought himself a good judge of character, generally, and his gut inclined to trust her despite her strange abilities.
They passed two inns during that time, but both days Bevier elected to continue until nightfall, since the time that they lost by meandering along during the day could be partially made up by making the days longer. Finally, an inn appeared just before evening fell on the fourth night: a well-kept hostel with full stable and a boisterous main room. Relieved to have proper housing at last, but wary of trouble, Bevier sent Delric around with the horses and escorted Shampoo to the front entrance. A drunken trio staggered out, slurring and laughing raucously. The girl seemed to shrink into the Bevier's shadow as they passed, and only one of them noticed her past Bevier's blinding white surcoat. The hairy drunk merely blinked stupidly at her unusual appearance and moved on, used to hallucinations.
The common room was little more observant, but a few conversations still died when the Church Knight came in with the strange young woman. Bevier ushered Shanpu over to the bar, noting her stiff posture. If she was a cat, her tail would be lashing furiously, he thought, somewhat amused by his own visualization.
"Excuse me, good innkeeper," he called. A weedy old man popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. He slowed at the sight of Shanpu, eyes widening, but responded, "What kin I do fer ya, Sir Knight? We're a bit full at the moment, I'm afraid."
"You don't have any rooms left? Or a hayloft, even?" Bevier tone was still hopeful.
"I wouldn't dream of putting a Knight of the Church in a hayloft," the man told Bevier, scandalized. The innkeeper's sharp gaze slid to Shampoo again, and the knight realized belatedly that he shouldn't even have suggested a hayloft with a lady in attendance. Too much time spent on the road, and not enough observing the proprieties. "If none of the guests can be convinced, my wife and I'd be happy to give our rooms to you and- er…"
"An orphan we found on the road," Bevier improvised hastily. "My man should be in shortly, too."
"Good, good," the innkeeper burbled, seeming to be relieved by this news. Bevier could understand why, but he found himself bristling at the reaction anyway. He did not like the sidelong looks that the man was giving Shanpu. "Well, we can clear a private room for you to eat, if you like."
"We would," responded Bevier distantly, watching his charge. Shanpu's open curiosity for her surroundings was competing with her irritation at the innkeeper's stares. Bevier could only assume that it would get worse if the rest of the room finally took notice of her.
.o.
As it turned out, there was no need to take the owner's rooms. One of the guests heard mention of a Church Knight and offered his room while they were still eating. Delric excused himself to inspect them, and arrived several minutes later with an odd expression. Bevier looked up at him with some surprise.
"You might want to inspect the quarters for yourself, M'Lord. Our sleeping arrangements may get a little complicated."
Bevier's eyebrows rose, but he excused himself absently. Bevier caught a glimpse of Shanpu's face as he left the room, watching him go with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. He found himself hoping that it was because she was frustrated by the mysterious events around her and not that she was somehow hideously offended by some cultural taboo about getting up from dinner. It was not just that he wanted to keep the situation running smoothly; he had to admit to himself, the thought of being on the receiving end of her displeasure bothered him on a deep, instinctual level.
Bevier tried to brush the idea aside as he mounted the staircase to the upper apartments. The room that had been offered was second from the end, the door slightly ajar. Bevier pushed it open and peered into the dark shadows of the room, badly lit by a single candle near the door. As his sight adjusted, Bevier observed with a sinking heart the single bed and table occupying the tiny room. The logistics of bedding were indeed going to be difficult.
He doubted that any of the other rooms would be any better, and Bevier was reluctant to insist on the adjoining room. The innkeeper would be insulted if Bevier was to sleep in the barn with Delric and Bevier felt distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of leaving a young girl to sleep so far removed from her companions. Yet neither it was feasible for the girl to quarter with one of the two men without a chaperone. It would be questionable enough as it was, with the three of them together, but that was the only solution that Bevier could see. It was going to be a cramped evening.
There was a creak behind him, and he turned to see Shanpu trying to peer around him into the room. She asked curiously, "Sleep here?" Bevier was pleased that he understood her perfectly, and nodded.
Shanpu pushed past him insistently, going straight to the window and throwing open the shutters. She leaned so far out the window she had to balance on one leg, looking around intently, and Bevier was treated to another view of her little red pantaloons. Directing his gaze elsewhere, he told her, "It'll be cramped, but we have a roof over our heads. They even have a decent bath, I hear."
She made a happy-sounding comment and swung back inside, examining the room more closely. She blinked at the single bed, and turned back to Bevier with her arms crossed and her expression a little too level. Language barrier or not, it was an expression Bevier had seen before, usually when a woman is deciding whether she needs to be miffed or outright furious.
He held up his hands in a placating gesture, his own expression apologetic. "Don't worry, Miss Shanpu, it's not quite finished. You get the bed, I'll have one over there, and Delric will be at the foot." He hoped that the accompanying hand gestures were clear enough. She seemed to understand him, for her eyes and mouth relaxed and she surveyed the room a second time. Standing so close to her in the small room, mysterious in half-shadows, abruptly reminded Bevier that their presence together in the room was wildly inappropriate. What happened to Delric?
Unconcerned with his preoccupation, Shanpu brushed by him to leave. Bevier was very aware of her closeness, but it was somewhat offset by the wild animal smell that traveled in her wake. A thought flashed through his mind to not inform her of the baths available, but common sense overruled the personal temptation to ward himself from attraction. She presumably hadn't bathed since her arrival, and a good impression might give her an advantage when they arrived in Coombe. She would be under enough suspicion as it was; there was no need to present her as a barbarian.
Delric met them at the head of the stairs, the look of worry on his face quickly replaced with relief. "She is with you. I'm dreadfully sorry, M'Lord, I only stepped out for a moment-"
"Miss Shanpu has a tendency to do her own reconnaissance, it seems." Bevier gave the man a mildly reproving glance, and continued past him down the stairs. "We'll fit, if only just. If you'll take her back to finish her meal, I'll have a talk with the innkeeper."
The innkeeper had only one extra cot to put in the room, so Bevier arranged for a straw pad to be placed on the floor for Delric. The old man did have some good news, though: the bathhouse was ready for whoever wanted it. The innkeeper's wife also had some clean extra clothes she was happily overpaid for, and Bevier thought that with some tucking, they might come close to fitting Shanpu. He shed his plate armor in their room, leaving on only his ring mail and sword, and headed back downstairs with the bulky bundle of woman's clothing.
Finding Shanpu finished with her meal, he told Delric to finish getting the rooms ready and gave Shanpu a hand up from the table. She looked at him blankly, waiting for some sort of explanation, but Bevier only grinned and pushed her gently out of the room, then took the lead down the hallway to the bathing room. She followed him expectantly down the narrow hall, booted feet padding so silently over the creaky floors that several times he turned around the check that she was still there.
Their path ended just past the kitchen at a plain wooden door. Bevier opened it for her with a bow, smiling at her cry of delight at the gigantic tub inside, partially warmed by the backside of the kitchen hearth. Shanpu bounced into the steaming room and peered into the tub, flicking experimentally at the steaming hot water. "Furo!" She looked over and grinned at him, using one of her well-remembered phrases: "Thank you, Bevier-san!" Bevier quashed the loopy grin that threatened to break out on his face, and substituted a more modest smile.
Bevier dropped the dress and chemise on the bench with the towels and soap, and made sure that she saw them. Shanpu nodded impatiently, already scrambling to unlace the clunky shoes from her delicate feet, the cleaner part of her calves demarcated clearly by the top of the boot. She tossed the pair contemptuously aside and grabbed the bottom of her dress. The hem had cleared her waist before Bevier realized he was staring like a schoolboy, and that she wasn't going to wait for him to leave. He whirled and hastily shut the door after himself, thinking with a blush, Praise be for those little red pantaloons. She's almost as uninhibited as Elysoun. The Tamuli Empress had made the well-traveled Church Knights uneasy with her mode of dress – or lack thereof – and Bevier could only imagine what the reactions would be like here among his insulated countrymen. I'll have to warn her, he decided, looking around for a place to stand guard. That sort of behavior will land her in a great of trouble, which would really hurt her case with – well, with whatever authority will determine her situation here-
When did she become a maiden to be saved, instead of an alien to be investigated? The thought caught him up short. Bevier thought back, but no single moment sprang to mind. The mystery of the pearl boxhad yet to be solved, but it seemed separate, remote even, from the job of making Shanpu welcome in his world. Except she doesn't want to be here, came a grudging thought. She wanted the box, to go home. His safekeeping of it was the only thing that kept her here, probably. Who knows what evil might be unleashed in her place, or what might happen to her? I can't let anything happen to it until we know that it's safe. Reasonable or not, this logic did not quite eliminate the pricking fingers of guilt at holding her captive so. Sighing, Bevier closed his eyes, clearing his mind of doubts. A quiet thump behind the door brought his attention back to what he had meant to do: stand guard.
Conveniently, there was a chair down the hall, so Bevier pulled it up next to the door and settled in for a wait. The innkeeper had confirmed that there was no entry from the bathing room besides the one he guarded now, so he did not have to worry about intruders, or for that matter escapees. He could even hear Shanpu through the door as she bustled around the bathing room. At least this way everyone was accounted for, even if he had to ignore the impropriety of listening to a woman bathe.
Shanpu still hadn't gotten in while he was ruminating by the door, but Bevier did hear her moving the water bucket around. It made him wonder for the first time how different her culture really was. Does she know how to bathe as we do? A splash of water hit the floorboards, and after a moment she started humming a strange tune. What is she doing in there? Anothersplash. Bevier hoped that the innkeeper had installed good drainage.
Finally, there was a quiet, liquid slosh as Shanpu got in the tub, and then a moan came from behind the door that set all of his skin a-tingle. He took a strangled breath, listening – but, realizing what he was doing, blew it out again in a huff of exasperation. He forced himself to relax in his seat, trying to ignore the bathing noises, his ears highly attuned despite himself. One finger began tapping against his knee.
Maybe he knew exactly where Shanpu was, but listening to her bathe was exquisite torture. Mysterious splashes and happy murmurings set his curiosity aflame, and there were numerous giggles and gasps that made him swallow uncomfortably. One customer came by to use the tub, but he told him in no uncertain terms that it was unavailable, his tone made harsh by his nervousness. After the man went back up the corridor, Bevier gave up, and began to pray. It did not help as much as he wished it to.
After what seemed both an eon and far too soon, there was water dripping on wooden floors and what he presumed was vigorous toweling. Then there was nearly ten minutes of fabric shuffling and muttered irritations, which blessedly gave Bevier enough time to compose himself. After a while, the door cracked open, and Shanpu peeked out of the hallway. Her mouth made a little O of surprise when she saw Bevier standing across the hall, but then the girl grinned at him and bounded out of the room. In seconds she had him in a fierce hug, her eyes twinkling up at him. "Bevier-san! Shanpu so happy, this very good! Thank you!"
Arrested, he stared down at her, feeling the strength of her grip through the chainmail and hearing his heart beating far too loudly beneath it. Belatedly, he remembered to smile at her, and then removed her gently from his person, patting her shoulders gently. "I'm glad you liked it, Miss Shanpu. It feels good to be clean, I know." Her people must also be more physically affectionate than was Arcian custom. He'd have to warn her not to do that in public; people would get entirely the wrong idea.
"Clean," Shanpu agreed, nodding. "Good tunic!" she burbled, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. She made a moue when Bevier corrected her, but repeated skirt gamely. Turning, Shanpu disappeared back in the room for a moment to pick up her dress and boots from the bench, the damp red silk a tiny bundle compared to traditional female garb Bevier had carried in. I wonder if she's still wearing her underthings under there, Bevier thought. After a second's reflection his inappropriate curiosity so dismayed him that he was glad the girl was turned in the opposite direction.
With the layer of dirt removed it was now more obvious how underfed she was. Noticing his regard, Shanpu girlishly pirouetted in front of him and Bevier gave an approving nod. The dress was too large by half, and he rather thought that she had the chemise on backwards, but it would do for now. He could get some of the serving girls to help her before they set out in the morning. With her hair down and the color dampened to a deep violet-black, it made her look more like a Tamul than anything alien. He noted the phenomenon for future circumstances.
Shanpu's face fell ever so slightly at this bland reaction, but as Bevier solemnly offered his arm her face expression lightened. She slipped her hand through the crook in his arm and they made their way back upstairs, the hallways still mostly empty. A lone serving girl scarcely gave Shanpu a second look.
Safely ensconced in their quarters, Bevier watched the girl surreptitiously as he and Delric clarified the plans for the next day. Shanpu pulled her knees up close and leaned against the wall, her temple resting on the grooved wood panels. He guessed she was once again dreaming of home, as her eyes focused on something far beyond the borders of the room, her expression pensive. Flashes of emotion crossed her face occasionally, showing something of her inner thoughts: sadness, irritation, wistfulness, a kind of sardonic humor. Delric eventually ended the stilted conversation with an exasperated look at Bevier's inattention, and the knight picked his way over their gear to Shanpu's side.
Those startling eyes shifted to Bevier as he sat down on the cot across from her. "Tomorrow go very big town," he said quietly in Putonghua.
"Cheng shi," Shanpu offered. "Very big town is 'city'."
He couldn't help smiling at her efforts. She seemed to brighten in turn, sad looks discarded for the moment, and Bevier felt a brief flush of guilt for how much this warmed his heart. There's no reason to feel guilty about making someone happy, he scolded himself. You can enjoy that much safely, fool.
She sat up more attentively, clearly expecting some instruction, so Bevier started naming things in the room – bed, cot, table, chair, lamp, wall – with her reciprocating in her own language. After a while they halted again for lack of concrete objects. Then inspiration struck. "Delric," Bevier probed, leaning over to the bedroll on the floor. There was a sleepy grunt. "Did you ever pick up any ink and paper?"
"'N th' bag, M'lud."
"Oh, excellent." Very much pleased, Bevier stooped over the bags and dug for only a moment before finding some poor-quality rag paper, quill, and a little bottle of ink. He held them up like a trophy to Shanpu, who clapped her hands delightedly.
Pulling the table closer to the bed, he sat a proper distance away from Shanpu and laid out the writing materials. Shanpu watched him closely as he pulled out the ink stopper, dipped the quill and wrote "My name is Bevier" in flowing cursive. He held a finger under the line and read it aloud to her. Understanding sparked in her eyes, and she impatiently reached for the quill. Bevier handed it over.
With part of her tongue poking out of pursed lips, Shanpu scratched the quill experimentally. When only a thin trickle came out, she turned to Bevier, puzzled. "No good?"
"You are not familiar with a quill? But-" Bevier bit down on the questions that she couldn't answer. But she wrote in the sand well enough. What else could you use besides a quill? Pushingit aside for the moment, he showed her how to turn it so that the sharp edge was foremost, and inked it again. This time her lines were blobby and hesitant, but apparent.
"Huh," Shanpu said doubtfully. Then, under Bevier's increasingly astonished gaze, she scripted a vertical line of beautifully complex (though still blobby) runes, ones he was absolutely certain came from the same alphabet as the runes on the little pearl box. She imitated his pointing, saying, "My name is Shanpu." Bevier didn't answer for a moment, mind still chewing on this unexpected, though not entirely surprising, revelation.
Shanpu looked a little uncertain, watching his reaction. Pushing away this new information for future contemplation, Bevier nodded encouragingly. "Maybe pictures would be more constructive right now," he said, more to himself than anything. Reclaiming the pen, he outlined a small family tree, with his name on the bottom. "Me… mother, father, grandfather…" Realizing that this wouldn't be sufficient, he sketched a small figure with a skirt for his mother, a more broad-shouldered figures for the male line and told her, "Man, woman." She nodded obediently. He continued through the names of his parents and extended family, though he halted at second cousins.
After she successfully mastered his list of family names, Shanpu held a hand out demandingly. Bevier obligingly gave her a sheet of paper. Eyes screwed up in concentration, she drew a little be-skirted stick person for herself, and then traced her mother, father, aunts, grandmother, great-aunts, great-grandmother… Bevier frowned, watching her draw. She understood my meaning, surely. So why is she only showing the women? And none of the women on the father's side, either.
"Great-grandmother Kuron," she said, pointing to a woman on the chart. Her eyes met Bevier's, and he was surprised to see a deep anger in them. She said something in Putonghuan, her tone more bitter than anything he had heard her yet say. But then, seeing Bevier's incomprehension, Shanpu made a moue and sketched a rough square – a box, with symbols. Understanding dawned on Bevier, and it was confirmed as she tapped the figure representing Kuron, then the box, and held out her hands in offering. A memory resurfaced of her initial, playacted explanation back on the roads – a hobbled old women, giving Shanpu something that spun her into his world. Her own grandmother? Surely there has to be another explanation. If there was one, he didn't think that Shanpu knew of it. Her anger was too deep.
Then Bevier's eyebrows rose, and he blurted, "Great-grandmother? You mean she's still alive? That is impressive." Muttering at her look of bafflement, he pointed to the figure of Kuron, then to the box. "Your great-grandmother handed you the box?" Shampoo nodded, still slightly bewildered by his question. Curious now, he hunched over the paper and started scribbling furiously. Four trees: one budding, sun overhead another, one losing leaves, one snow-covered. Under them, a tick mark. "One year," Bevier said, holding up a finger. He tapped his chest, then held up two handfuls of ten, then eight fingers. "I have twenty-eight years. Your great-grandmother, Kuron?"
"Oohhh," she breathed at last, her gaze flicking back down to the seasons in sudden recognition. Shanpu held up ten fingers, then closed and opened them three times in quick succession. Bevier blinked. Forty years? I can't have seen that properly. Unless they have children when they're nine or ten... what a disturbing idea. He frowned and handed her the quill instead. "Could you write it for me?"
Shanpu gave Bevier a quizzical look, quill tip hesitating over the parchment. He nodded encouragingly, so she shrugged and started ticking off years underneath his drawing. A row of ten, then two more. Thirty? thought Bevier. That's even more unlikely.
But Shanpu wasn't finished. She sketched a square around the first box and repeated the boxes rather than the actual tick marks, as she had before in the sand. Ten more, to be exact, with an additional seventeen tick marks to top it off. Three hundred and seventeen. Bevier sat for a moment, staring. She meant that hand sign to be multiplication, the logical part of his mind informed him. Three tens by ten. "That's impossible," he said, belatedly realizing it was aloud.
Something turned slightly cold in Bevier's stomach, and he finally looked up at Shanpu. She was fidgiting impatiently with the quill, watching him with the eager innocence of a child. Almost not wanting to hear it, he asked her, "And you, Shanpu? How many years?"
She tapped her nose, silently asking for conformation. Bevier nodded, watching her hands closely as her fingers flashed twenty and one. Relief warred with amazement. Sixteen at most, he had thought. Only the most pampered of nobles could possibly have skin like that at twenty-one. But of course most of them wouldn't live until three hundred, either. Three hundred. Good Lord preserve us.
Mind thoroughly boggled, Bevier focused almost reflexively on the oddity of such a feminine family tree. He took back the quill and made a 'marriage line' directly next to the grandmother and each of the aunts. He asked, "Uncle? Grandfather?" and pointed to the men in his own chart.
Shampoo shrugged, and said, "Not know. Ah-" She brightened and pointed next to one aunt. "Uncle Jeru."
She doesn't even know most of their names. A society almost completely segregated by gender? But she doesn't seem uncomfortable around men. Perhaps a matrilineal people? The prospect intrigued Bevier. He had read of such historical curiosities back at the university but had never hoped to actually meet a member of one. He looked down, belatedly realizing that she was drawing again: a 'marriage line' next to her own figure, joined to a man. "Ai ren," she told him. Bevier stared at it, his breath catching. Married? Surely not! Though it's not like she's too young-
Then she drew another female on the opposite side of the man, and two more above and below, so that the male was attached to four females. Bevier's denial faded quickly into confusion. Dipping for fresh ink, Shanpu crossed dark, angry lines over the top and bottom connection, then reluctantly through the one between the Shanpu-figure and the man. The last connection stayed. So – a man married to multiple women, then annulled? Or merely engaged? Or, he reluctantly realized, some sort of liaison? He didn't know what the norm was for her culture, if people partnered the same way. Shanpu's face was pinched, her lips thin with anger or spite. "Ai ren- Ranma, bao nu hai- Akane, Ukyo, Shanpu, Kodachi," she said, pointing to each of the centrally connected figures.
1Propping her head on one fist, she added curlicues, horns, and a ludicrous moustache on the male, Ranma, then gave the still-attached female a pair of crossed eyes. Bevier bit his lip to keep from smiling, for she was obviously very annoyed. It has all the makings of a dreadful theatrical farce. She's been unlucky in love, it seems. The tightness in his chest released a little, making him feel guilty for such relief at another's misfortune.
After a moment, Shanpu sighed and stopped mutilating her competitor. She sketched out a few more figures, not attached by familial lines but with joined hands, and all of them smiling. "Peng you," she told him, holding up the page.
"Friends," he told her in return, nodding. Shanpu repeated it quietly, her fingers not quite brushing over the smiling figures. Her eyes were sad again, reminiscent of what she had lost. She looks like she misses them fiercely, Bevier thought. Even more than her family. He could sympathize with that himself – he regretting leaving his companions after their last quest, far more so than he had ever felt leaving his mother and even his siblings. Familial ties were all well and good, but the bonds of friendship were not easily made and even harder to break.
Feeling somewhat depressed at this unexpected train of thought, Bevier rose and gently pushed the table back against the wall. When he turned again, Shanpu was already curled up on her side away from him, holding her drawing close. Silently, Bevier tamped down the wick and sat on the narrow cot the innkeeper had provided. The canvas bowed under his weight quite a lot, foretelling an uncomfortable night. He sat for a moment longer and studied Shanpu's prone form, wanting to say something heartening but muzzled by his limited vocabulary. Some sort of physical condolence - a pat on the shoulder or the like? But everything he could think of seemed either inappropriate or condescending. He lay back finally, at a loss.
A few minutes passed, and Bevier heard her sniff quietly into the pillow. There was a shaky exhalation, and shortly afterward he saw her reach down and pull the covers up over her shoulders. Another sniff came a minute later, and then she was silent for good. Bevier watched her for a long time through the shadows, but her breathing was even and slow. Not crying, then. Or at least not much. Bevier didn't know many women who wouldn't be in tears, if not hysterics, at finding themselves in an unknown and unfriendly place. Her strength of will was impressive.
…It helps that her curves are impressive, too, Bevier found himself thinking, probably because he was staring at that arc from waist to hip that is so pronounced when women recline. He shut his eyes, but his cursed imagination reviewed it for him, at length. What kind of person am I, to think of such things when she's in pain? he remonstrated himself, scrubbing his face with one hand as if to physically rub the thought out. Divine One, show me Thy true path, Bevier pleaded silently. Lead me from temptation, secure my heart so that my hand may serve Thee the better. He stared at the dark shadows of the trees undulating slightly on the moon-gray ceiling, trying to compose his mind for sleep and failing. It made little sense, but even knowing that she would not stay in this world, even if she could, did not quiet his roiling thoughts. This is not an issue, he told himself firmly. There will be no conflict between interests, even if there could be given other circumstances. It's not even a choice.
So why could he not sleep?
Depressed as she was, Shampoo kept in mind the advice of her mother: for a woman, there are many sorts of weapons. Feel sorry for me? Then you give me my freakin' box!
...o...
A/N: Cologne in 100ish in the manga, but I used to the anime counting instead mostly for the shock effect on Bevier. Besides, Shampoo's hair varies wildly between the (colored) anime and the (B&W) manga, so I'm taking a few liberties here anyway. Hope y'all can forgive me.
"What we have here is a failure to communicate," is a line from Cool Hand Luke.