Svaha, page 28
Lisa chose that moment to come into the office. "Look who's back," she said.
Nanabozho stood by her legs. The Ragman looked at the coyote.
"Where the hell did he come from?" he asked.
"He just walked into the room where I was sitting with Hirose," Lisa said. "Are you ready to listen to Gahzee's teachings now?"
"Can you get him to magic us outta here?" the Ragman asked Gahzee.
The medé shrugged. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"
The Ragman gave him a glare, but at this point he was obviously ready to try anything. "What do you say, Jack?" he asked Nanabozho. "You gonna give us a helping…ah, paw?"
The coyote merely looked at him, head cocked.
"Aw, shit." The Ragman looked disgusted.
"Can you call up that map again?" Gahzee asked. When the Ragman did, he pointed out the coordinates that he'd sent to the Enclave. "We have to be there by tomorrow evening."
"Good luck, Jack."
"Why didn't you go back to your original plan?" Gahzee asked.
"Which original plan?"
"Call in the Plex's security force."
"I tell you, Jack. They gotta be tied in to the yaks."
"Considering our present situation," Gahzee said, "what have we got to lose?"
"Guess you got a point there, Jack." The Ragman pulled out his biomask and gloves. "Guess it's time for Desmond Jones to make another appearance. Drones'll listen to him a hell of a lot quicker than they will the Ragman."
He started to fit the mask on, then paused.
"Hey, lookit this," he said, pointing to the computer monitor which was still displaying the map he'd called up. One by one, the red dots signifying the yak camps were blinking off. He looked at Gahzee, a question in his eyes.
"It's the Enclave's doing," Gahzee said.
The Ragman grinned. "All of a sudden I'm starting to feel lucky again, Jack."
TWENTY-ONE
1
As soon as the security officer taking Jones-san's call realized the import of what he was hearing, he had a co-worker put in an immediate call to Takahata-san's private line. In his apato, Takahata was transferred to the incoming call at headquarters.
"Gomenasai, Jones-san," he said. "I am Takahata Tomiji, the—"
"The honour is mine, Takahata-san," Jones broke in. "You are a most respected man of our community."
Takahata's momentary anger at being interrupted gave way under Jones's flattery. He studied the face on his screen. What was this man? Chinese? Korean? No matter. He was a citizen, an important man, president of Denshin Systems. And if what he said was true…
"My officer tells me that you are reporting the death of Shigehero Goro?"
"Hai. His men kidnapped me and some of my guests at a party I was giving. It appears he had a highly secret computer chip he wished me to decode for him and chose this most disagreeable manner in which to enlist my aid."
Kidnapped? Takahata thought. Better and better. He listened to Jones tell his story. Kidnapped by yakuza, he and his guests threatened with death if Jones himself did not cooperate. The timely intervention of Goro's lawyer, Fumiko Hirose, who, when she saw that her employer was determined to follow through on his criminal course, aided the victims. The subsequent battle in the penthouse that included the death of Goro and his guards, and the unfortunate destruction of the chip Goro had wished him to decode. How they were now trapped on the penthouse floor, merely a few of them left alive against Goro's enraged kobun.
"What you tell me, Jones-san, dismays me to no end. We have long sought the end of this criminal, but the legal process is very slow, neh? Rest assured that I will have a full contingent of officers on hand to rescue you and your companions from this unfortunate situation."
"Domo, Takahata-san. I am feeling most desperate."
"My men are already on their way."
Cutting the connection, Takahata sat back and rubbed his hands together.
"Domo, domo," he said aloud. "Domo arigato."
The monster was dead, his grip on the Megaplex broken.
2
Kishi Tano, oyabun no oyabun, sat in his Toronto office staring numbly at the display console of his computer. One by one, the camps of Goro and Eisai's kobun surrounding the stricken Manikwai Enclave were being destroyed by the Clavers. Goro himself was dead. All they had worked for was in ruins. And all they had to show for their efforts was a small handful of assassins trapped in the upper floor of the Goro Clan's headquarters.
Yonosuke Tahara, one of his lieutenants, stepped up to his desk and respectfully waited for his attention.
"Hai?"
"Gomenasai, Tano-san, but Ho Anzen Securities have marshalled their men for an attack upon Goro-san's headquarters."
Tano sighed. The taste of ashes was bitter in his throat. He was unused to failure. But it must be accepted.
"Send word to the clans—no kobun are to be dispatched to Trenton."
"Hai."
As Tahara returned to his seat to fill his orders, Tano called up the Goro Clan's headquarters. The face of Yamamoto Ishimine, Goro's second-in-command, appeared on his screen. A weak man, Tano thought and shook his head. That was Goro's failing. He was too strong. Rather than delegating to his lieutenants, to allow them to grow in strength with him, he took too much on himself. That was why he had failed.
Ishimine waited for Tano to speak, sweat glistening on his upper lip.
"Ho Anzen mounts an attack," Tano told him finally. "You will withdraw from your headquarters and scatter the clan's kobun. On no account will you engage in further battle. We have lost enough."
Ishimine swallowed. "Gomenasai, Tano-san, but what of Goro's assassins? They are still alive on the top floor…."
"You would kill them for your oyabun's honour?" Tano asked.
"Hai."
"Tonde mo nai." I forbid it.
"Hai." Ishimine had trouble getting the word out.
Tano sighed. He took pity on the man. "Ishimine-san," he said quietly. "A wise man knows when to retreat so that he may fight again. We are not samurai. We do not follow the Bushido Code. We are yakuza. I need you alive, Ishimine-san, you and those that remain of your kobun. You are the new oyabun of Trenton. Shall I lose you as well?"
Ishimine straightened with pride. There is strength in him, Tano thought. Hidden, perhaps, but he will learn to use it.
"You honour me, Tano-san," Ishimine said.
"Hai. Now, please, do as I say. Sa, it is not merely Ho Anzen we have to deal with this night, but the Clavers as well. This battle is already lost to us, so we need spend no more lives, neh? But we are yakuza. We will live to fight again. Now go. Contact me once matters have settled down."
"Hai, Tano-san. Ja mata."
"Mata," Tano said.
He broke off the com-link and stared at the dark screen for a long moment. Then he bowed his head.
I will miss you, Shigehero, he thought, most loyal of men. I will burn incense for you, for you belonged to one of the last of the old yakuza families, but I will not lose more than we have already lost in your name. Perhaps the future will allow us to avenge your death. Perhaps our descendants will. In the end, we will prevail. One day we will have it all.
One day.
Sayonara, Shigehero. Your journey is done.
3
"They are leaving," Gahzee said, an hour or so after the Ragman had made his call to the head of the Ho Anzen Securities.
"Who's leaving?"
"The yaks."
The Ragman gave him a long hard look. "How do you know that, Jack?"
"It concerns Wheels," Gahzee said. "Are you sure you want to hear about it?"
"You said you'd listen," Lisa said.
"Yeah, yeah. I know." The Ragman turned away and called up his men that were still watching the building from outside. When he got their report, he said, "Okay. Get outta there, girls. You done good." He looked back at Gahzee. "I don't know about this shit, Jack."
"We can talk about it later. I have to leave now as well, before the security officers arrive. I don't exist in the Plex, remember?"
"You've been like a ghost all night. I like you better without your whiteface."
"Remember those coordinates I showed you earlier?"
"What about 'em?"
"Be there tomorrow evening. I think you will find it to be worth your while."
"I'll think about it, Jack."
Gahzee turned to Lisa. "Will you come with me?"
The Ragman laughed. "You kidding? She thought you'd never ask. Now get outta here."
They left by the stairwell, hand in hand, Nanabozho trailing at their heels. The Ragman looked at the coyote and slowly shook his head. Wheels, huh? Spirits talking. Mysteries.
Yeah, I'll be there, Jack. You can count on it.
REALTIME
Somewhere behind the thick cloud covering, the sun was setting. Light leaked from the sky. Shadows grew long. Gahzee and Lisa shared a meal by a fire lit in the doorway of a long-abandoned warehouse. After the long ride north from the Plex, they'd spent most of the afternoon inside the warehouse, lying on their bedding—sleeping, making love, sleeping again. Now, with the night coming on, they were waiting.
"Do you think they'll come?" Lisa asked.
"Who? The Ragman?"
"No. Your people. The elders."
"Someone will come."
Thunder rumbled in the sky, distant still.
"Animiki," Lisa said.
Gahzee smiled and nodded. "Bodreudang."
"What's that mean?"
"Bodreudang is the approaching thunder—the People have names for all the grandfather thunders. We even have a name for that moment between seeing the lightning and hearing its thunder."
"What's that?"
"Svaha. A waiting for promises to be fulfilled."
"Like hope."
Gahzee nodded. He fed more wood to the fire. Outside the door, Nanabozho lay, his mismatched eyes gazing out into the gathering dark.
"I've spent my whole life in svaha," Lisa said. "Waiting for something better to come along. Hoping. It keeps you going in the squats, pretending things'll get better. But now…"
Her voice trailed off. Gahzee waited a moment, then asked, "And now?"
Lisa gave him a smile. "Things got better. It's weird. There's been so much going on these past few days, everything happening so fast, I feel like it's been a lifetime. I feel like I've known you forever."
"That's what happens when you walk in the Dreamtime with another—after that there comes a true closeness between you. It makes it hard to tell lies to each other."
"Quaheystamaha," Lisa said, obviously enjoying the taste of the word and what it meant.
Gahzee nodded. He sensed movement in the night then and reached for his weapons. Nanabozho's ears pricked up, but he didn't move otherwise. Gahzee let his hand relax.
"Yo, the fire!"
The Ragman's voice was unmistakable. There was room in the doorway for him to ride his three-wheeler through. He was followed in by a number of other machines, driven by the survivors of last night's attack on the Goro Clan and some other faces that Gahzee didn't recognize.
Gahzee looked for and found the pale face of Fumiko Hirose amongst them. There was little expression in her features. She had suffered a great loss, he realized. He had only to imagine Stalking Death taking Lisa from him to understand how she felt. But she was strong of spirit. Gahzee hoped she would allow him to teach her of the Wheels. They would not replace her loss, but they could help her live with it.
"Well, we're here, Jack," the Ragman said, stepping up the fire. He took off the gloves he was wearing and knelt down, holding his hands out to the flames, though the night air wasn't cold. "So what's the deal? Kinda a long ways out to be throwing a party."
Gahzee glanced to where Nanabozho lay. The coyote had lifted his head to look skyward, then he rose to his feet and melted away into the darkness. Gahzee rose from the fire, hearing the hum in the air. The silver shape of a large Enclave flyer slowly descended from the sky and landed in front of the warehouse. The lights on its roof threw a pale glow all around the ship, scattering shadows.
"Not so much a party," Gahzee said. "More a council."
"Holy fuck," one of the Ragman's companions muttered.
Gahzee led them all outside where they stood in a rough half-circle facing the flyer as its doors hissed open. A ramp emerged from below the door and lowered to the ground. Using it, a number of figures in white, armoured, decam suits descended. A half-dozen of them carrying laser-rifles immediately took up positions on either side of the ship, facing Gahzee and his companions. The remaining four walked to where the medé stood.
Gahzee recognized each face that showed behind the glass covering of their decam suits' helmets. His mentor, Manitouwaub—Sees Like A Spirit. The Enclave Chief, Zhawano-Geezhig—Blue Sky. And two elders. Kitchi-Zaudee—Great Poplar. And Mino-Nodiniquae—Gentle Wind Woman.
"Thank you for coming," Gahzee said.
"You may thank Manitouwaub," Zhawano-Geezhig said. "It was he that convinced us that if you requested our presence, it was important enough for us to come."
"What is it that you wish of us?" Kitchi-Zaudee asked. "You have done the People a great service, but surely you do not expect to be allowed to return to the Enclave?"
Gahzee shook his head. He spoke instead of the Kachina-hey and what they had bid him to do in the Dreamtime. He told of the Outlanders he had met, of the strength he saw in them, of the possibilities they held to help the People return Mother Earth to how she was when she was young.
"We wish you luck," Mino-Nodiniquae said. "It is a difficult Walk that you are undertaking."
Zhawano-Geezhig nodded. "Yet why did this require our presence? Could you not have sent your intentions to us in broadcast?"
Gahzee took a breath, slowly let it out. He straightened his back and regarded the elders square in the eye.
"Maniwaki Enclave lies empty," he said. "I claim it for my new tribe."
"Impossible!" Kitchi-Zaudee cried.
Manitouwaub touched the elder's arm with his glove. "Let him speak."
"I mean to go among the Outlanders," Gahzee said, "and teach them the path with heart, but I must have some hope to offer them—hope for themselves, not merely for the coming generations. The Enclave will become a place of learning and rest, a home that we may return to while we travel the Outlands.
"This is what I believe the Kachina-hey have been instructing me to do."
Kitchi-Zaudee shook his head. "You merely want to regain what you yourself have lost. But you knew the sacrifice you would have to make before you left."
"Gahzee," Chief Zhawano-Geezhig said softly. "Perhaps your time amongst the Outlanders has blinded you. Yes, they are people, like us, but unlike us they left the world the way you see it now. Shall we give them the opportunity to do worse? To destroy the safety we have created for the tribes?"
"It is we who have left the world the way it is now," Gahzee said. "Others caused the destruction, but it is we who have turned our backs upon it. It is time for us to rejoin the world."
"It cannot be done," Mino-Nodiniquae said.
"And certainly we could not agree to it alone," Chief Zhawano-Geezhig added. "It would require a council of all the Chiefs and elders of all the tribes—and I can tell you now, Gahzee, that they will never agree."
"What a load a' crap," the Ragman said. Gahzee had been speaking in patois, so the elders, perforce, had been speaking it as well.
Kitchi-Zaudee turned to him. "Be still, Outlander."
"Why should he?" Lisa demanded. "We got a right to speak."
"But we are not required to listen," the elder told her.
"It's not our fault things're the way they are!" Lisa cried. "We had nothing to do with it. Our ancestors fucked up—but all we've ever done is tried to survive in the mess they left us. Why the hell shouldn't we get a chance?"
"Because it is in your genes to repeat the same mistakes," Kitchi-Zaudee said, "over and over again. We monitor your broadcasts—your news reports. We watch from our satellites and see how you do nothing but squabble amongst yourselves in your slums."
"So it's all a lie then, huh?" Lisa said. "All that crap the Kachina-hey told me in the Dreamtime about how things could get better? You're just gonna sit around and wait for Coyote to come back and not lift a hand to help anybody but yourselves? Well, fuck you. Who needs your help."
"You tell 'em, darling," the Ragman said. "They're just a bunch a' shitters. I figure our Jack Gahzee here's the exception, not the rule."
But the elders stood suddenly silent, staring at Lisa.
"You…have been to the Dreamtime?" Manitouwaub asked.
Lisa just looked at him. "What's it to you?"
"It's a lie," Kitchi-Zaudee said. "The Kachina-hey would never converse to Outlanders. It's unthinkable."
"She has been there twice," Gahzee said. He turned to Manitouwaub. "Can't you sense the heartglow of her Walk, Grandfather? Her strength?"
Manitouwaub slowly nodded his head.
"It's a lie!" Kitchi-Zaudee insisted.
"No," Mino-Nodiniquae said. She took a step closer to Lisa. "It is the truth—an astonishing revelation and one that we will have to study upon. But unfortunately, Gahzee, it changes nothing. Shall we spoil Maniwaki Enclave? You and all those who live here are contaminated by the Outlands. Shall we allow that creeping death into an Enclave? Shall we allow our knowledge to fall into the hands of those who know only war in their hearts?
"We see now that the Outlanders can learn the Wheels and Walk the path with heart, but it will take generations for them to learn the ways well. And the contamination will always be a part of them—locked into their genes.
"So we should merely turn our backs on them?"
"No. We must study new ways to help them. But the Enclave must belong to the People—untouched by the creeping death. This knowledge you have brought can change the way we perceive the Outlanders—it gives us hope that one day the earth shall regain her former glory—but it cannot change our decision."
