Chapter 6
"Sister Act"
by katyclismic
[standard disclaimers apply
Maybe coming along to the castle was a mistake after all, Shampoo mused as she lay on her cell cot. Breaking the windows definitely was. I don't think they liked that. In fact, there were a whole slew of things that she was coming to regret, now that she had a chance to reflect. Choose your battles wisely, Great-Grandmother always said. Well, it's a nice thought when you're not angry. Ai ya, did I get angry. She grinned at the memory, relishing the bumps and bruises on the warriors, the broken glass and wood. That's what happens when you deny an Amazon her wishes!
They had first tried to lock her in a nicer place – cells for rich and important folk, she guessed - and when her insistence at getting back to Bevier had spurred increasingly loud and expensive crashes, a couple of guards had taken steps to restrain her. It had not gone well for them. Shampoo smirked again, stretching achy limbs. She hadn't dealt anyone a good thumping in far too long. Granted, being stuck in a horrible little dungeon cell after being overwhelmed by a dozen or more soldiers, who were none too gentle with her person, put a distinct downer on her enjoyment of the moment.
The second wave of guards were seriously annoyed, and in full armor to boot. She wasn't used to that sort of protection, which she assured herself was the only reason that they had managed to get a hold of her at all. One Amazon was worth a dozen fighting men, normally. Perhaps I am a teensy bit out of practice. She estimated that three would have cracked ribs, and there were plenty of concussions to go round. Shampoo herself wasn't that badly off, considering. She would have plenty of bruises, but no damage that would affect her ability to defend herself.
The remaining soldiers had managed to hog-tie her and toss her in this far smellier cell, which she was definitely beginning to regret. Having rattled the window bars and cell door to no effect, she had tried simply smashing her way through the wall. This technique was always pretty effective back in Japan, but the walls here were two feet thick and stone. Shampoo flexed her throbbing hand, grimacing. Making only a slight dent in the wall had scraped her hand bloody, and she wasn't about to try that again. Why, why did I never learn the Breaking Point technique? AGH. …Because you didn't want to get all bruised and ugly, she reminded herself. And you thought you'd always have your bonbori, remember?Hah. Oops.
Adding to the general grottiness of the dungeon, the guards had come across the brilliant idea of taunting her from a distance, after the first two had their noses broken for getting too close. She didn't know if the idiots realized that she couldn't understand them, but the tone was unmistakable. She relaxed as much as she could on the narrow cot, ignoring them –until a chunk of brown glop splattered against the stone just above her face. Shampoo jerked away in disgust. Slowly, she turned to look at the grinning guards. Someone is going to pay for this, she thought grimly.
She turned the cot up on its side and huddled behind it for what minimal protection it gave from being pelted with rancid orange peels and worse. They continued to land against the canvas with sick thwucking sounds, and worst of all, it was erratic. If there was any sort of rhythm, Shampoo probably could have concentrated enough of her fighting chi to do some damage, either to the walls or to her captors. But the long pauses and sudden peltings of debris continually broke her concentration. A better warrior wouldn't care, she thought glumly. I am out of practice. She also had doubts about revealing the extent of her power, but it seemed like less and less of a reason as the assault continued over the next hour.
Relief finally came from an unexpected source. Shampoo had vague hopes of Bevier charging in to save her, or possibly some civil servant to come and apologize for the mix-up, but instead she got a woman in a black gown. The lady swept into the hallway holding her skirts high off the grimy floor, snapping orders to the suddenly sheepish guards. Shampoo poked her head out from the behind the canvas cautiously and eyed this possible savior. She was probably in her fifties, covered from the neck down in an excessively severe black dress with an equally severe black head scarf that covered any wisp of hair and trailed to the waist. The effect was unfortunate, because the woman's pale features looked washed out, and her ears stuck out in front of the scarf like twin seashells.
The guard was telling her something with exaggerated sweeps of his arms, but she did not appear to be listening. The woman turned to look at Shampoo, her pale eyes boring into Shampoo's own. Shampoo squeaked and retreated behind the cot. There was an irrational, burning hatred there that she hadn't seen in a long time, not since the challenges had tapered off in Nerima. Pink and Link had that sort of look, and Pantyhose Taro. Creepy.
There was a jangling of keys at the cell door, and Shampoo realized that she was going to have to face the woman. Brushing off her skirts as best she could, Shampoo stood with one hand on the upturned cot leg. The woman was still in the corridor, waiting, and though the hatred in her eyes was gone, her gaze was imperious and cold. One of the guards stood warily next to the open cell door, giving Shampoo a clear path to leave.
Shampoo's steps slowed as she passed close to the first guard. Would it be better, she wondered, to take his spleen now? Or would the woman lock me back up? Maybe later, she decided as she took a good, long look at the man's stony face. "I'll remember you," she warned him, and stepped through. The other guard was less stoic, and as she stepped closer he flinched visibly. "You, too, swine," Shampoo hissed, poking him in the breastplate.
There was a sharp word from the woman, and Shampoo felt a vise-like pinch take a hold of her ear. "Ow!" she yelped, ruining her threatening stance. "Ow ow ow ow." The guards' eyes were wide as they watched the woman haul Shampoo down the corridor, the girl still protesting, "I wasn't doing anything!"
The woman's grip fell away as they reached the stairs, and Shampoo hurried after her. Maybe she's the Elder; she obviously has some sort of authority. She certainly has a grip like Great-Grandmother. Shampoo grimaced and rubbed her ear, then dropped her hand hurriedly when the older woman turned to look at her. She said something in Elene which Shampoo assumed was something like "Hurry up, girl." Shampoo crossed her eyes at the woman's back but followed obediently.
After several flights of stairs and a bewildering journey through echoing halls, the woman finally slowed next to a set of ornate wooden doors. She looked Shampoo up and down doubtfully. Do I really look that bad? Shampoo double-checked herself, running her uninjured hand through her hair and immediately finding something gooey. "Oh, ick," she grimaced, flinging it off her hand. The other woman's eyes froze on the goop that splattered against the stone, then rose to stare at Shampoo. Shampoo started to blush. Wipe it on your skirts next time, she noted to herself.
The woman pushed the doors open to reveal an extremely feminine sitting room. Elegant wingback chairs sat in front of large cross-stitch hoops; pink puffy cushions were covered with lacy doilies; dried flowers adorned every possible surface. The resulting musty pollen overload made Shampoo sneeze twice. This, too, seemed to displease the matron, whose eyes were still cold as a Tibetan mountaintop and twice as flinty.
The woman gestured toward herself and said clearly, "My name is Lady Dorsai." Shampoo couldn't understand the next few words, but the phrase "stay here" was clear enough. Shampoo began to bow and introduce herself in return, but the Elder turned and exited the room before she could utter the first syllable. The door shut behind her with a silent rush of air.
Floored by this discourtesy, Shampoo stared after her for another minute before deciding that she had been left alone for the time being. The girl stood for a moment, listening for other movement, but there was nothing. She blew her bangs out of her eyes – it had been months since they had been near a pair of scissors - tapped her toes impatiently, then decided it couldn't harm anything to take a look around.
She turned to look at the room, examining the numerous displays of delicate glasswork and pottery on the shelves. One of the curio cabinets held a pair of portraits depicting a young man with golden hair and an older gentlemen with a great deal of medals on his chest. There were also a few books hidden amid the bric-a-brac. She picked up the one nearest to her, a thin volume tucked between a vase of dried purple flowers and a timepiece, and cracked it open. The spidery writing inside looked a lot like Bevier's, although none of the words were recognizable. She set the volume aside and ran a finger over the neat rows of embroidery in front of the chair. "Someone with more patience than me," she muttered to herself.
The wooden wall paneling was wonderfully carved around the edges of the room. Stepping closer, she leaned in to see the details and, after a second, let out a snort. There were minuscule soldiers marching on a tiny city, everything from flags to horses painstakingly defined in oak. Knights exchanging blows, pikemen holding the flank, war machines flinging stones at battlements; all marched their way down the wooden edging in a bizarre mix of genteel and militaristic décor. How long would take to so something like this? she wondered. Curious, she traced a finger down the line of pikes and felt her finger catch.
Looking closer, she saw that one of the pikes, perhaps half as wide as a toothpick, was not a continuous part of the carving; it was set in a socket. Shampoo pulled at it with one finger and winced as it snapped into a horizontal position. I hope that's fixable. A sudden chill wind make her flinch, thinking that Lady Dorsai had returned.. Shampoo turned, sheepish, but it was not the hallway door that had opened.
Instead, a section of the wall had swung open so silently that she had not heard it. Eyebrows raised, Shampoo leaned over and tried to see into the darkness beyond it, her skin prickling with goosebumps. She stepped around a chair and leaned over a table to lean into the opening, but she still couldn't see anything. The lamplight from the room showed perhaps ten feet of the stone walkway beyond. She stood for a moment, considering whether to take the chance.
Footsteps from the outside hall made Shampoo jerk to attention. Decision time! Stay or go? She wavered for a split second, thinking of her chances of getting taken back to Bevier versus finding him herself – and possibly getting lost – then leaped back to the carving and clicked the pike back into place. The section of wall swung silently back until it was flush, and Shampoo let out a breath as the footsteps neared the door.
But they continued onward, past the room, and Shampoo relaxed. False alarm. Her curiosity peaked, Shampoo squinted at the carving, scanning for the same socketed pike, but before she found it another figure caught her eye. Just above her head, a knight rode a horse whose leg had the thinnest of hairline fractures separating it from the main carving. She lifted it up with one fingernail and stepped back immediately, watching as the wall on the other side of the room swung inward.
This one had light spilling from the entrance, and Shampoo approached with more caution than before. A few small noises caught her ear: wood squeaking, fabric rustling, an oddly monotone humming. Leaning slowly into the doorway, she saw that the walls were covered with tapestries of knights and damsels, and the thick carpets on the floor were strewn with little wooden figurines and blocks. She leaned in further and saw a young man happily galloping two wooden horses along together, humming to himself. He was middling tall and slightly chubby, dressed in extremely fine clothes with a heavy gold medallion weighing down his neck.
Then she blinked and stepped closer to the doorway. The boy was older than she had first supposed; there was an innocence in his face, a slight looseness of lip and clearness of eye, which fooled her into thinking he was fourteen or fifteen when he was probably closer to twenty. Her appearance in the doorway made the boy look up, startled. Shampoo's eyes widened, for this boy closely resembled the miniature portrait in the other room, though the artist had obviously done the boy a favor.
He clambered to his feet, saying something in a serious tone of voice. When Shampoo didn't answer immediately, he crossed his arms protectively over his chest and repeated himself, this time with a shrill edge. Hastily she backed up and bowed to the lad, saying, "Excuse me, please, I didn't know." He went wide-eyed and retreated a step. Shampoo bit her lip. Use Elene, he's already frightened! "Sorry, sorry." She swiftly retreated back out of sight and flipped the horse's leg back into its recess. The wall swung shut again, the wood panels merging once more.
She stood for a moment, letting her heart rate settle. There was no more noise from the other side of the wall, though with the size of the stone walls she doubted there would be any even if the guy was shouting. The thought made her skin crawl, and she almost reached back up to open the door again. But no, someone has to know he's there. He had to have got in, after all.
At that moment, more footsteps rang outside the hall. Shampoo stepped quickly in the center of the room, trying to seem inconspicuous, as the Lady Dosai let herself in. She looked at Shampoo sharply, and the girl spent a second wondering if the lady had seen her in the corner before deciding, no, I think her face is always pinched like that.
Lady Dorsai made an exaggerated gesture to follow her, sour expression never changing, so Shampoo fell in beside her. They meandered in silence through several passages and floors at an excruciatingly slow pace. Shampoo caught herself several times from tripping on the lady's skirt, since her natural walking pace was considerably faster and it wasn't that constrained by her new skirts. Maybe there's something wrong with her feet, she mused. It took them a good twenty minutes to arrive at the courtyard - where, unaware of events transpiring in the dungeon, Bevier had passed through not an hour before, vowing to remove her from the castle.
Yet there was no way for Shampoo to know this, and she peered into the shadows of the walls in vain, looking for a familiar face. Lady Dorsay urged her onward, annoyed at the hesitation, toward the plain black carriage standing ready for them. At the last moment, Shampoo realized what this meant and balked. "Where Bevier?" she asked, scanning the courtyard again. "I go Bevier."
"No," Lady Dorsai sharply. The rest of what she had to say was gibberish to Shampoo, though, apart from castle and wait.
"No Bevier?" Shampoo pouted. She knew she wasn't likely to get a better answer without the translating skills of her knight-rescuer. The lady took a hold of Shampoo's arm with an attempt at a tight grip; the women's arm was trembling with the effort of it, anyway. Shampoo felt a little sorry for her; what good is authority without the strength to back it up? But she was still an Elder, so it was probably best to follow her lead for now. She wanted Shampoo to get in the carriage, so the girl gave a sigh, took one last look around the courtyard, and stepped inside.
There were heavy curtains covering the windows, but Shampoo's hand was slapped away when she tried to pull them aside. She gave the older lady a reproachful look, which was returned in kind. Then there was a jolt, and the carriage started off.
Shampoo sat for several minutes before starting to drum her fingers, frustrated at the inactivity. A quelling look from Lady Dorsai quieted her for a moment, but routine obedience soon wore off from other irritations. The close quarters quickly grew stuffy and full of what Shampoo could only think of as "old lady smell." The sensation of moving through traffic – without any power over the process – also drove her to distraction. She didn't like boats for the same reason, although they certainly smelled better. Every time she made the journey from China to Japan, she spent most of the trip gritting her teeth and resisting the urge to grab the dinghy and set out under her own oar-power.
Finally, they seemed to pass out of the city and start on an open road, for the pace picked up and there were fewer turns. She raised a hand to the curtain again, watching Lady Dorsai for approval. At her nod, Shampoo twitched the cloth aside and peered out at the crawling landscape.
They were going southeast, she noted, and the land was pretty well cultivated. The occasional farmer paused as they passed, but there were no greetings as there was when Bevier passed. Weird… but we aren't out on horseback anymore, I guess.
Curious, she popped her head out of the square little window – no glass for these people – and craned her neck upwards to check out the driver. He was obscured by the girth of the vehicle, but more interestingly, someone was behind them on the road. A group of riders in matching uniforms trailed them at a distance, weapons flashing in the sun. Shampoo wondered, A guard? They didn't seem to be in any hurry to catch up to them, so she assumed so.
She pulled her head back into the carriage, thinking, I wonder who would attack us. Shampoo realized that Lady Dorsai was now back on the edge of the seat, her expression thunderous. Though her voice was even, whatever she was saying to Shampoo had an underlying quiver of anger. It went on for quite some time, and Shampoo attended politely, though only bits of words came through – don't do that and stay chief among them. Don't leave the carriage, right, Shampoo thought glumly. Naturally all the fun must be stopped as soon as possible. She sighed loudly and slouched against the side of the carriage. This wasn't particularly comfortable with the swaying and occasional bump, however, so she sat back up. Another farm passed in view of the window, dreary and brown.
Shampoo was not built to be passive passenger. She fidgeted with her bodice. She combed her hair out with her fingers, examining individual locks for split ends. She drummed her heels on the baseboards, looking out the window. Lady Dorsai resolutely ignored her traveling companion's twitches, apparently deciding that they were beneath scolding. Shampoo realized that she wasn't making the best impression, but she couldn't seem to help herself. It was just so boring. The women wasn't even making an effort to communicate, and Shampoo found herself thinking wistfully back on her last few days with Bevier. Nicer on the eyes, to boot, she mused caustically, glancing sideways at the sallow, pinch-faced old woman. Well, plenty of her type in the home village. The thought was oddly comforting, despite her the strange betrayal of her Great-Grandmother.
Another dreary fifteen minutes passed before the carriage came to a halt inside a stone courtyard. Shampoo sighed in relief, making Lady Dorsai glance at her in what might have been sympathy. What the older woman didn't know was that Shampoo was just at the limit of her tether with that obnoxious pearl box. The unnatural pull at her heart had increased to the point where she was seriously considering jumping out of the carriage and refusing to go any farther. Just don't go any further east, Bevier-san, or I'll have to chase after you and I don't think they'll like that.
Black skirts held high, Lady Dorsai stepped out of the carriage and away into the courtyard. Shampoo peered out, uncertain if she was supposed to follow, and was startled to see that she was in some sort of commune. Four women in head-to-toe cover-ups worked in a small garden, hoeing and digging for weeds, and several others simply sat on benches in the dying afternoon light, talking quietly. She could spot other women wandering through the hallways of the low building, too. Nearly all were past their prime, some old enough to be her grandmother.
A safe house for women? Shampoo wondered, stepping out of the carriage. Heads turned, examining their strange visitor, but quickly returned to their various meditations. A politer bunch than most, anyway, she admitted grudgingly. Lady Dorsai turned to look at Shampoo over her shoulder, just inside the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, and said, "Follow me, girl."
Shampoo brightened. I know that one! Although she could have said 'please.' Casting a final glance over the crowd of women in the courtyard, Shampoo hurried to follow. A rough wooden door led into a whitewashed interior hallway, devoid of decoration or furniture; Lady Dorsai disappeared almost immediately into one of the inner rooms, and Shampoo was taken in hand a pair of blank-eyed brood hens who clucked over her strange appearance, fussed with her clothes, and herded her gently to a spartan bedroom on the second floor. She let them fuss with good grace, not having much of a chance to enjoy it recently, but then they bolted the door without so much as an apologetic look. She gave it a good thump, calling "Hello?" but not really expecting an answer.
She sat on the cot for a minute, waiting, but no one came back. Hurry up and wait, Shampoo groused to herself. Apparently it's a universal. What is it with people leaving me to sit in rooms? She rose and opened the shutters, carefully prying them free from the nails holding them shut, and took a look outside. Women below her were just finishing with their routines, gathering tools and beads up to head inside. A red-gold sliver of sun was still lurking reluctantly at horizon's edge, and it had gotten noticeably chillier. The fields surrounding them were hazy in the dying light, and quite far off in the distance Shampoo could just make out the shadow of Coombe's walls. She sighed, wondering what was going on back there. Was Bevier panicked that he had lost his charge, or relieved to have her off his hands? Either way, this sucks, she decided, turning away from the view. There wasn't much to occupy her attention within the room – a basin, a bed, some sort of embroidered homily on the wall – and she soon resorted to pacing and listening for activity in the hall.
No one came while the sun set; none one came as the stars began appearing in their unfamiliar constellations. Her stomach started growling, not having been attended to since lunch in the market, but an exploratory call through the door went unnoticed. She contemplated kicking the door down – this one was wooden, happily – but she didn't want to antagonize a possible ally. Giving up, she stretched on the cot and drummed her feet on the wall. "I hope this annoys you beyond measure," she told her invisible neighbor. No answer. The sight of her own legs sticking up out of the skirt seemed unusual, and she realized she hadn't seen them in several days. Weird. She ran her hands up them appreciatively, finishing the motion as a stretch.
Finally, Shampoo ceased her fidgeting and reminded herself that she could use the extra quiet time to her advantage. She hadn't done much training in the past few months, and the disgusting little episode in the dungeon made it obvious that she needed to work on her concentration. She pushed herself back upright into a more formal lotus position, spine relaxed but straight. The cot had a wobble that nearly made her lose her pose, but she held it determinedly.
She sat quite still, accepting the slight sway of unbalance, and then turned her attention inward. This was harder than she remembered, if not entirely unexpected. The pull connecting her to the pearl box was an ever-present annoyance, as impossible to ignore as an overstretched muscle. She also hadn't meditated since – well, since her last week in Nerima. Her travels since then had been maddening and frightening – farther from home than she had ever been, lost from her closest friends, possibly betrayed by her own blood, and stuck in a world with no way to talk to anyone… all these fears were tied up with confusion about the people who took such an interest in her, Bevier and Lady Dorsai for starters, and an all-too-familiar pang of nervousness at the thought of her knight-rescuer…
Shampoo stopped herself. The point was to push away all your worries, not start hashing them over. She started a standard exercise, breathing out her worries in dark smoke, breathing in clean air. When she felt considerably lighter, she tried visualizing a kata in her mind. This didn't work as well as it might have, since the shadowy sparring partner quickly morphed into one of her guards, in full armor, which slid into a memory of how much punching steel had hurt.
She let out a frustrated breath and started over. Focusing on her breathing and the flow of blood from her heart to her limbs helped clear her mind; she then methodically loosened every muscle starting from the backs of her ears to the top of her feet. That physical awareness of self made the pull at her heart seem less insistent, allowing Shampoo to accept it as the current state of being and move on into a deeper meditation. She floated for a moment in a center of being, both intimately aware of the room and very distant from it, and then began pulling strength into her chi.
Then, ever so subtly, someone was there with her, in the private confines of her self.
Shampoo gasped, her eyes flying open. That's never happened before! No one was in the room with her. "Hello?" she called, making sure. She glanced out the window, equally unhelpful, and sat for a moment, flustered. Should I try it again? It didn't feel threatening. She bit her lip. It felt curious, more than anything.
Her thoughts kept turning back around to this bizarre intrusion and what it could possibly mean, but she spent another five minutes of staring out of the window before giving in to her curiosity. If nothing else, she mused, it won't be as boring as sitting here with nothing to do. Shampoo settled herself again, letting her anxieties flow out with each exhalation. Letting her curiosity go was much harder, though – trying to ignore the elephant in order to see it properly, so to speak.
Ten minutes passed, then another. Her mind began to wander a bit, now uncertain whether she had really felt anything. The city she left behind, the forest before that… finally having clean clothes, if bulky ones… the likelihood of sparring with someone, or rather unlikelihood… sore muscles and bruised fists, really do need to train more often… throbbing in said muscles, heart beating, the healing rush of blood –
A gossamer touch of something slipped into her awareness, not quite startling Shampoo out of her meditative state. It stopped just short of being intrusive, a fixed pebble of otherness that sat in her sand garden of awareness, reflecting tiny waves. The visualization seemed to help her focus on it, because the pebble seemed to grow more real, though no bigger or pushier.
Shampoo stayed that way for a moment longer, then poked it gently with a tendril of concentration. What are you?
To her surprise, it responded. A friend. If you like.
Do I ever!- Shampoo reigned in the thought, hoping it hadn't reached this other consciousness. Yeah, reveal your weaknesses to an unknown, idiot. She tried to keep the thought private; impossible to know whether it made a difference in this strange, more-than-personal connection. Why do you want to be my friend?
You're going to need one now that you're in Agata's clutches. And I trust Bevier's judgment.
"What?" This unexpected comment shocked Shampoo into speaking aloud, breaking her concentration – as well as the connection. Her eyes flew open, searching instinctively for her mysterious visitor, but all was the same as before. Shampoo smoothed her skirts, confused. The presence – she? It did seem sort of girlish – knew and trusted Bevier, but was suspicious of Lady Dorsai. So if we agree on Bevier, does that mean I should be wary of Lady Dorsai? The whole trip took a sinister tinge the more she thought about it. She glanced back in dismay at the pinpricks of light identifying Coombe. Maybe the reason Bevier hadn't come was because of deliberate mischief rather than communication problems, as she had assumed.
But that was also assuming that she could trust Bevier. Shampoo dearly wanted to trust him, and her heart insisted that he was A Good Guy, but did she really know? She didn't like Lady Dorsai, but she didn't much like her Great-Grandmother, either, when it came down to it, and the Lady had rescued her from the cells. As for mysterious telepathic visitors – Shampoo didn't know what to think. The unaccustomed uncertainty felt like a knot lodged in her chest.
Why couldn't someone just try to kill her, instead of all these mysterious sojourns to various places? At least back home she knew who to fight, and how to beat them. The comparison made it weigh even more heavily on her heart. "I don't want to have to figure this stuff out, I just want to go home," she wailed, eyes filling with tears of frustration and homesickness. "I hate this." There was no answer from her strange visitor, nor any response from her keepers.
She stared at the blank white walls, letting herself mope for a minute before sitting upright. I'm all alone, and I need to take care of myself, Shampoo reminded herself. Whichever is friend or foe, I am an Amazon, and they will rejoice or regret it when they choose their allegiance. There, that had a nicely martial ring to it. She grinned fiercely and wiped her eyes free of tears.
Warily, she began meditating again, but the other presence did not make itself known. Shampoo was grateful for the respite in confusing new developments, and she was able to focus her chi well enough in the renewed quiet. The women of the compound certainly didn't bother to interrupt, and Shampoo eventually slipped from meditation to sleep still waiting for them to appear.
Next time: more from Bevier! I was going to make this another dual-perspective chapter, but it was getting a bit long and I didn't want to make people wait even more. Let me know what you think!
I don't know if there's anyone who wouldn't know this, but "Sister Act" was a movie from the early nineties. My nuns aren't quite as much fun, unfortunately for Shampoo.