Svaha, page 19
He hoisted the watersack again, pouring more water on the stones. New clouds of steam arose around them.
"The medé of the People," he said, as much to take his mind off of Lisa's closeness and his body's reaction to her as to instruct her, "perform a dance called 'eluding the manitou' for their ritual purifications. Negik, the Otter, was the first patron of the Midewein Society, and the path of the dance that the medé perform twins the route that Negik took to elude the evil manitou who sought to destroy the medicine that he was giving to the Midewein. By performing this dance, we purge the ceremonies of evil.
"But 'eluding the manitou' has symbolic meaning as well. It exposes life as a hard conflict of ethical forces, allowing us to see the path with heart for what it is: a Walk that becomes not only a refuge against evil and defeat, but a Walk that moves against that evil so that Beauty is retained in the world."
"Not a whole lot of beauty left now," Lisa said. Her voice came spectrelike from the steam.
"We spoke of this before," Gahzee said. "Of inner Beauty and quaheystamaha."
"'You dance in my heart,'" Lisa said softly. "You said it can be something you feel for a place, or for a person. You figure a squat rat could get to be like that?"
"How do you feel now?"
The steam was clearing, and again Gahzee could make her out—the bright eyes gleaming, the cloth clinging to her breasts and belly, accentuating her sensuality rather than hiding it.
"I feel…good," she said. "Sorta light-headed, but clean. All-the-way-inside kinda clean."
"Would that not be a manner of Beauty?"
There was a long moment of silence.
"So I guess you're saying I could," she said finally.
"I'm saying you already are—you only have to learn to touch it to find out where it rests inside you, and then keep the channels open."
"That's what I want to learn," Lisa said.
* * *
When they finally left the sweat lodge, it was all unplanned, but they moved as though they had choreographed the moment. Their hands met and joined. They crossed the room and lay down on Gahzee's bedding, neither one nor the other leading, but moving as one. The wet shirt and loincloth were laid aside and they explored each other's bodies with hands and tongues, licking the salty glisten of sweat, following the contours of two such dissimilar shapes that could so comfortably fit together and merge as one.
"I think I like this sweat lodge business," Lisa murmured later, curled up against Gahzee, his arm lying across her back, a comfortable weight.
Gahzee lifted his head so that he could look into her features. Even with her tattooing, she appeared different. Younger. More vulnerable. But stronger, too. The tough edge that was so much a part of her had softened from their lovemaking, but had not disappeared. It still remained in her eyes, in the quiet strength of her body where it lay against him.
"This is, I think," he said as he laid back down, "a case of the teacher learning from the student."
"Is that good or bad?" Lisa asked.
"It's good. Very good."
Sighing contentedly, she snuggled closer. Gahzee looked over her shoulder to where Nanabozho still lay, watching them with what appeared to be a grin. The medé wasn't sure how wise it was for the relationship between teacher and student to have changed as it had, but he found that he didn't care.
We are our own tribe now, he thought to himself. Like Twisted Hairs, we must find our own methods of braiding knowledge.
And already she danced in his heart.
2
When the Ragman returned, Lisa was just painting on the last of the rainbow design she wore on her eyelids. She leaned in close to a little square of mirror propped up on a stone, chewing on her lower lip as she concentrated on getting lines right.
She felt wonderfully languid and at peace with herself. The trauma of the past couple of days felt distant—not quite real somehow. Like it had happened a long time ago. The opposite of present was absent. Present was her new lover. For the time being, all the craziness was absent.
Though she was anything but a virgin, making love with Gahzee had been so different from doing it with previous partners that it was like a first time. Not the awkward gropings she remembered of her real first time—on a beat-up futon in the back of a warehouse with a messenger half again as old as she was herself—but a real first time that left her understanding monogamy and all that vid crap where people did crazy things just because they were in love.
It had never made sense before. But glancing at Gahzee, she knew she just wanted to be with him. Learn about Walks and Wheels and all that shit, sure, but more importantly be with him. All the prop that the Plex vids fed out about Clavers was just washed away now.
But what if he dumped her? Went back to his Enclave, got hooked up with some pureblood Claver girl?
He looked up under her intense scrutiny and smiled.
Nah, she thought. Besides, he couldn't go back.
When they heard a three-wheeler pull up outside, Gahzee rose from where he'd been fletching arrows and melted into the shadows. Bozo was already gone. Lisa didn't move. She recognized the sound of the motor. Drone mechs never bothered too much with serious maintenance. The engine she heard had the same knock in it as when the Ragman drove it away earlier.
She finished the last swath of rainbow on her left eyelid as the Ragman filled the doorway, then put away her paints and mirror.
"You're looking cheerful," the Ragman growled. He glanced at the empty bedding. "Where's the Claver?"
"His name's Gahzee," Lisa said.
The Ragman caught the protective tone in her voice. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"I don't care what his name is—we got business to discuss."
Gahzee appeared suddenly from the shadows and nodded to the Ragman. Lisa smiled as the Ragman started.
"You move like a spook, Jack," he said. "Don't knows as I like that."
"My People are quiet walkers," Gahzee said. He took in the Ragman's bulk, his strange mohawk of dreadlocks. "What is your tribe?"
The Ragman stared at him for a long moment. "The fucked-over tribe, Jack."
"Gahzee."
"There's only two kinds of people in the world besides the Ragman—darlings and Jacks. The darlings like a hug, while the Jacks walk around with their dicks in hand when they ain't got a Steeljack to make 'em feel big. I don't figure you for a darling, Jack."
"Don't mind him, Gaz," Lisa said. "They call him the Ragman 'cause he likes to rag people."
"I got serious problems, darling," the Ragman said, turning to her, "and what I don't got time for is screwing around."
When she saw the pain in his eyes, absent suddenly didn't have any meaning and the past was very real. All the pain came back in a rush. The Ragman had lost friends, too. He was hurting, just like she was.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I was just…just starting to feel a little real again, I guess. I wasn't thinking…."
The Ragman's hard gaze softened. "That's okay, darling. We all got to cope the best way we can. Some people try to put the hurt aside. Me, I ride the pain 'til I can fuck the bastards over." He hunched down by the fire. "Whatcha got to eat?"
"Rabbit."
She and Gahzee joined him by the fire, drinking tea while the Ragman ate and filled them in.
"Everything's gone to shit in the squats," he said. "You think we had it bad before, well, you ain't seen nothing. Drones gathered up their own dead to take 'em back into the Plex and burned everybody else. Fucking stink's enough to make you puke. People are lying real quiet and low—but only on the surface. Chinas and tongs are gearing up for war. Yaks took out Chien Foo this morning—the Jack that had your chip," he explained to Gahzee, "so we got the triads gearing up for shit too.
"Meanwhile, the drones got a sudden hard-on for the yaks—no prize for guessing why after last night—and they want whoever took down Foo or they're gonna dismantle the Goro Clan."
"It'll be a bloodbath," Lisa said.
"Tell me something I don't already know. But we can use all this shit to our advantage." He looked at Gahzee again. "Which is more important to you—the flyer or the chip?"
"The chip."
"Yeah, I figured that. So here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna do you a favour and blow up your flyer—I like the idea of sticking it to Goro like that—but then we're gonna get serious. I'm putting together a strike force of bullyboys and we're gonna start a problem with the yaks—right in the Plex. I figure we can get things going real fine and then the drones'll step in to keep their fucking peace and finish the job for us."
"What about the chip?" Gahzee asked.
"Well now, I figure that's your problem, Jack. I can use the Co-Op's connections to get you and Lisa into the Plex, but after that you're on your own. You can try and face down Ho Fung's boys, but I'll tell you, he ain't got the resources to handle anything like your chip. I'm betting he's already moved it."
"To who?"
The Ragman shrugged. "I'm only guessing, but word has it that Chien Foo's been seen in the IBN building more 'n once in the last little while. Considering that IBN's going down the tubes and it needs all the help it can get, I'm betting they bought that chip. Or they were planning to, but the yaks offed Foo before he had a chance to move the fucking thing.
"So that's your choices. The Ho Fung Triad—I'd put them third. The yaks—they get a big second. My bet's on IBN."
"What makes you so sure?" Gahzee asked.
"Weren't you listening, Jack? I've already laid out a shitload of reasons, but if you want some more, how's this: According to today's market listings, IBN transferred some of its shares to one Ichiro Owada."
"So?" Lisa asked.
"So Owada's a Nip front man for Ho Fung, darling—do I gotta spell it out any clearer? Something big's going down between him and IBN, because it sure as shit'd have to be big for IBN to cough up some shares to a china."
He looked from Lisa to Gahzee. "So if you want that chip back, Jack, you gotta go play Kozo Goh on the headman of IBN."
"Kozo Goh?"
"You know," Lisa said. "The samurai detective who's always busting heads and stuff on the vids—or don't you get them in the Claves?"
Gahzee shook his head. "But I understand the reference now."
"So you're going after IBN?" the Ragman asked.
Gahzee glanced at Lisa, then nodded.
"Okay. Yak gear's out for you, Jack, but I think I can fix you up with the right kind of swash that a swagger girl'd put on her strongarm if she was taking him back into the Plex. You still got your ID, darling?"
Lisa nodded.
"Shouldn't be a whole lot a problem then. I'll lay out your route in—you can figure your own way out. Place is gonna be in such an uproar by that point, there'd be no point in me mapping anything out for you."
"What about you, Ragman?" Lisa asked. "How're you getting in?"
"Oh, I got no problems along that route, darling. I've been in and out of the Plex for years now. Got my Co-Op connections—who the fuck do you think's been running that show?"
"Lisa said there would be a price for your help," Gahzee said.
The Ragman frowned. "Well now, I won't shit you—normally there would be. But I've got my own scores to settle right now. We all get outta this thing in one piece, I'll be coming to you for something then."
"For what kind of something?" Gahzee pressed.
"Fucked if I know, Jack. We'll work something out. Don't you worry. The Ragman's not a greedy man." He glanced at their remaining yak Usaijin. "That thing run?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, darling. Then I'm outta here. Comes on to getting dark, you shake your asses down to the junkwalkers' yard, other side of the Market. I'll have some ID for your boyfriend here, and your route all worked out."
Lisa found herself blushing and shot a quick look to Gahzee, but the medé simply smiled at her. Something quick and warm seemed to reach out from him to touch an answering echo deep inside her. Remembering her earlier worry, she found herself smiling back. No way he was gonna run out on her.
"Okay, Ragman," she said. "We'll be there."
"Thank you," Gahzee said, rising with the Ragman.
"Just fuck 'em over good once you get inside," the Ragman said. "It's time they got a little of their own back." He started for the door, then suddenly caught sight of Bozo lying in the shadows. "What the fuck—"
"His name's Nanabozho," Lisa said with a grin.
"I don't care if his name's Sugar, just keep that sucker away from me, darling. I hate dogs."
"He's not a dog—he's a coyote." She glanced at Gahzee. "A trickster."
"He gives me the fucking creeps with those eyes a' his," the Ragman said. "You figure on bringing him along with you tonight?"
"He goes where he wishes," Gahzee said.
"Well, I ain't got any ID for him—just so's you understand."
"We'll see ya tonight," Lisa told him.
As they stood in the doorway, watching him leave, Gahzee laid his arm around Lisa's shoulders. For the moment, there was only the present again, all else absent, leaving with the Ragman on his stolen Jiszuki. She leaned against Gahzee, happy at the contact.
"Want to help me make up the bed?" she asked.
"Make it up, or mess it up?" Gahzee asked.
Lisa shrugged. "Whatever. Just so long as we're doing it together."
But she was already unbuttoning his shirt.
3
Yip met Miko for lunch in a small kissaten in the Baidai District. She wore a pale rose dress that showed off her long legs, and her mane of black hair hung loose. Watching the hostess lead her to his booth, Yip thought that she didn't appear nearly so formidable as she did on the court vids or when he'd first met her in her office. But he couldn't forget the yakuza tattoo on her back—invisible to the kissaten's other patrons, but very much present for him.
"You never came back last night," she said as she was seated across from him. "I was worried."
"I had to think."
"I see."
The sudden frost in her voice woke a chill up Yip's spine. "Gomen," he said quickly. "Not about you—about us, but…"
How could he tell her that last night he had killed his own section head and subsequently been given Aoki's position. That Aoki had been in Goro's employ and was demanding that Yip fill that position as well? That every time he looked at her, thought about her, her tattoo was there to remind him of the yaks?
"Goro called me last night," he said finally. "He wants me to work for him."
The coldness in Miko's eyes immediately turned to worry. "What did you say?"
"What could I say? I told him I would think about it."
"And his response?"
"I didn't give him time to make one—I simply hung up."
Miko reached across the table and took his hand. "You are playing a dangerous game, Phillip."
Yip thought of Huan. Of the riot in the squats last night.
"It's no game," he said.
"Hai. And it gets worse. Have you heard of the triad lieutenant who was slain in the Jimu District this morning—supposedly a yak assassination?"
Yip nodded. "Chien Foo. We have witnesses who will swear to it that it was yaks who killed him."
"I've spent all morning dealing with Ho Anzen's prosecutors and Goro. They want the man who killed Foo, or they want Goro. But he didn't do it."
"How do you know this?"
"He told me."
"And you believe him?"
Miko sighed. "This will be hard for you to understand, Phillip, but in his own way, Goro is an honourable man. He does not lie—not to his kobun. Not to me."
"Then who killed Foo?"
"Someone who wishes to implicate the Goro Clan. Goro believes it was done by Ho Anzen officers disguised as yaks."
"Impossible!"
"And how do you know that?"
It was Yip's turn to sigh. "I don't."
Miko nodded. "It is because you yourself would not condone such an action that you find it unacceptable that another officer might have."
I would not? Yip thought bleakly. He studied Miko's features. He was more drawn to her today than ever—by the memory of her body, by her clever wit, by everything that made her who she was. Tattoo notwithstanding, how could he do anything but trust her? If she failed that trust, he realized, there was simply no point in going on.
"I killed a man last night," he said.
A puzzled look touched Miko's features.
"Not in the riot—or at least, not a rioter."
He explained, in quick clipped sentences, just what he had done. When he was finished, he waited. Was that disappointment he saw in her features? Had she only cared for him because she saw him as a moral man in a world faded grey?
"Aoki deserved to die," she said softly. "But it must have been hard for you, Phillip."
"I don't know who I am anymore."
"I do. You are a faithful man who believes in justice. You could do no less than what you did. Aoki was yakuza."
"I know."
"With his rank in Ho Anzen as well as the Goro Clan, he would never have paid for all the wrongs he had done." Her fingers tightened around his own. "Oh, what will we do, Phillip? What is to become of us?"
It took Yip a moment to realize exactly what she was saying. Not you. But we. Commitment. He lifted his gaze to meet hers and slowly shook his head.
"I don't know, Miko."
The waitress approached their booth just then and they ordered their lunch. When the waitress left, Miko leaned towards Yip.
"I have other news," she said. "There is something important taking place, but at this point I have not been able to discover just what. All I know is that Kishi Tano is in Trenton doing business with Goro."
"The oyabun of oyabuns?"
"Hai. They were in conference when this business with Foo came up, and he was present at the meeting with Ho Anzen's prosecutors. He was very displeased that his influence was ignored."
Yip thought of the Claver chip that Goro had lost. "I begin to see a pattern in all of this," he said. He explained what he meant.
