Beneath an opal moon, p.11

Beneath an Opal Moon, page 11

 part  #4 of  Sunset Warrior Cycle Series

 

Beneath an Opal Moon
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  “Go now,” she said, standing primly back. She shook her hair, copper where the sunlight struck it. “Vejira con Dihos.” And he saw her eyes glowing with the enormous fear she felt for the man Hellsturm. She struggled hard to suppress it, and only because he was so close

  She went with him, back into the room. Kossori watched them silently as they parted and Moichi went quickly down the stairs.

  He looked back just before the floor cut off his line of sight, saw her standing in the center of the room with the new morning’s light spilling all around her, seeming to him a physical manifestation of the invisible aura she possessed. Her eyes met his just before he disappeared down the stairwell but the confluence of emotions he saw there confounded him all the way to his assignation.

  Snatch

  THREE Kegs Pier was quite a distance down the bund from Llowan’s harttin but, once outside, Moichi resigned himself to walking. A ricksha was out of the question though he passed several vacant ones. These were cruising in search of those new to Sha’angh’sei, just off the docking ships, who would not know any beKer. Not only was walking far faster in the early-moming crush of sweating kubaru, hustling sailors, stevedores, knots of passengers, fat bongs and their representatives and bodyguards, and the inevitable giomu, the sidewalk merchants who moved from pier to pier as passengers disembarked; but it was infinitely cheaper since the hiring of a ricksha was based on time, not distance. Time was, quite literally, money for the kubaru.

  It was the beginning of a fine day. The air clear, completely devoid of the haze which enveloped the city, to a greater or lesser extent, each evening. The sky was white where the pale sun burned, still fairly low on the horizon, but, aloft, the curving vault of the heavens was a deep endless blue; traces of white puffy clouds trailed like unfurled sails here and there.

  Deep within the cries and bustling confusion of the bund, as he shouldered his way along, Moichi became engrossed in the seemingly endless riddle into which he had quite unsuspectingly plunged. What had begun as an apparently simple act of reprisal now had become something quite complex and, it was being made clear to him, sinister.

  If Aufeya was right, he had discovered the identity of the murderer. But knowing who he was and running him to ground were two different matters, he knew. The man, Hellsturm, had all of Sha’angh’sei within which to secret himself. But as long as Aufeya was also hidden here, he would not leave. Apparently, Cascaras had but one half of the information Hellsturm wanted. He would stay in Sha’angh’sei until he got it or until Moichi captured him. In this, he knew, Aufeya could be most helpful. In fact, without her he would have no clue as to where to find the man in the black cloak for, he realised now, he had no idea what Hellsturm looked like; he knew only that he was tall hardly enough information to set about finding him in this awesome labyrinth. But Moichi possessed the real trump: Aufeya. For Hellstunn wanted her desperately, if one could judge by the distance he had pursued her.

  He had still been filled with Auteya’s aura as he had come down the stairs into the harttin’s busy commercial area. Briefly

  he filled Llowan in on who was upstairs and why. Then telling the bundsman where he was headed, he stepped outside.

  He was almost within sight of Three Kegs Pier now and he was close enough to see that the Bujun ship had not yet docked. He breathed a sigh of relief. If he hurried, he just might have time to give Aerent some of the more important details of what had transpired this past evening.

  Briefly, his thoughts turned to Aufeya. He would have preferred not to leave her but he knew that even had he been able to take her with him, she would be in more danger out here. Hellsturm, he was quite certain, had not come to Sha’angh’sei on his own. Over and above the fact that the murders in The Screaming Monkey indicated there had been two attackers, he was sure he had seen others moving to Hellsturm’s command just before he had ducked out of the main tent in the Sharida. In this respect, Aufeya had been dead on. Sha’angh’sei was too much of an open place despite the intricate webs of secrecy which inundated it for outlanders. But this could work both ways. While Hellsturm was obliged to work circumspectly to capture Auteya, he could, by the same token, take advantage of the city’s enormously effective spy network to aid him in finding out where she was hiding. No, all things considered the harttin was the safest place for her. And there was Kossori. Moichi would rather have him guarding Aufeya than a score of Ching Pang.

  With that, he cleared his mind of the matter and prepared himself to meet the daughter of the Kunshin.

  The Regent was awaiting him, three quarters of the way out on Three Kegs Pier. The pier itself was clogged with kubaru runners and stevedores preparing for the Bujun ship’s arrival. Because the vessel was not a merchantman, there were no bongs

  of shipping agents about. Which was lucky, Moichi saw now, as he went carefully along the wooden planks: their space and more had been taken up by a military honor guard fully three pilings in length.

  As he passed their glistening, fastidiously pruned ranks, he came upon Aerent, who was gazing out to sea, presumably in the direction of the coming ship. He held his hands behind his back and this pose, combined with the brilliantly shining dress breastplate with its plumed shoulder-guards, caused him to appear once again as the commanding rikkagin of the forces of mankind.

  “Hole, Aerent!” Moichi called.

  The Regent spun around on his ruby legs. The sunlight, lancing through them, made them seem eerily translucent, causing him to cast a crimson shadow.

  Aerent smiled. “Ah, good morn. Good morn.” He unclasped his hands from behind his back, rubbed at the side of his nose. “And how did you find the Sharida? To your taste, perhaps?”

  Moichi laughed. “No, Regent, I think not, when all is said. Still” he cocked his head~“there are some good elements to it.”

  Aerent’s face darkened as he said, “Tell me one, then.”

  “It was at the Sharida that I found out who murdered Omojiru and the man from Kintai.” This was not, strictly speaking, quite true for he had found out about Hellsturm after leaving the Sharida. But he could not pass up the opportunity to consternate Aerent.

  The Regent’s surprise was evident and Moichi began to outline what little Aufeya had told him. At that moment, they heard a sharp cry from the far end of the pier and both turned. A lookout had his hands cupped to his mouth. “Here she comes!” he cried, and, turning, pointed into the sunrise. Sure enough, as they squinted against the light dazzle, the sails and masts and, then, only moments later, the bow of the Tsubasa could be made out as the Bujun ship appeared over the horizon.

  Moichi, staring longer at the vessel than the Regent, drew in his breath involuntarily. “Look at that, Aerent!” he said excitedly. “She fairly flies over the water as if she were a winged creature.” And Aerent, looking again, saw that this was true. The Tsubasa, which had, just before, been at the limit of their vision now had leapt into prominence

  “Where is this Daluzan woman now, Moichi?” the Regent inquired.

  “She is quite safe at the harttin.” He was about to add that Kossori was with her when he remembered that his friend did not know of the musician’s martial prowess.

  “Clearly we must interview her as quickly as possible. ” He rubbed at his beard. “This Bujun arrival has come at an accursedly inconvenient time in light of what you have just told me. Well, there’s nothing for it but to make the best of it. We cannot afford to offend the Kunshin’s daughter, can we? I have been informed that she is carrying a communique from the DaiSan. I daresay you will be interested in that, my friend.”

  There was a contained rustling behind them from the military contingent on loan from several of the city’s ranking rikkagin as the Tsubasa hove to just outside the harbor’s limits. She had cut sail drastically and now seemed to float, majestic upon the water, patiently awaiting a sea lane opening into port.

  She was a most beautiful vessel, Moichi thought. Sleek, somewhat slimmer than the oceangoing schooners common to the Sha’angh’sei area. Her upper hull was painted a glossy black from the sheer-strake to just above the waterline, where a thin gold band separated it from the vermilion of the lower hull. Its bow was high and curving with the figurehead of a cock. This was, he knew, the Bujun symbol for growth and exploration.

  “This woman is Daluzan and the man in the alley was, too,” Aerent mused. “Moichi, did you know that Kintai is on the northwest border of Dalucia?”

  Moichi turned from the Bujun ship, making its painstaking way into the harbor with the aid of a small Sha’angh’sei escort boat, to look at the Regent. “Interesting. It appears as if I should take my leave of this place after all, Aerent.”

  “With the Kunshin’s daughter just about to arrive? Impossible. “

  “Why? You can take care of her, surely.”

  “In any case, it is a moot point, don’t you think? You have no ship.”

  “I do now,” Moichi said. “Aufoya’s lorcha is docked at Fire Line Pier. I mean to sail it north to Dalucia.”

  “And what of this man Hellsturm? I want him.”

  “As do 1, Aerent. And Aufeya is my means to trap him.”

  “Uhm. Risky, that. The woman “

  “The quicker we get him, the safer it will be for her.”

  The Tsubasa was nosing into Three Kegs Pier now and kubaru and stevedores alike rushed to and fro along the length of the wharf, handling the thick hempen ropes thrown down to them by the Bujun crew. They hauled on these ropes, lifting their voices in singsong litany, working in concert, in time to the music, at length securing them to the thick metal stanchions along the wharf. This was one of the many incalculable benefits which made Sha’angh’sei the most important as well as the wealthiest port on the continent of man. Its waters were deep enough quite close in so that large vessels even the four-masted behemoths needed not stand off at a safe distance from shore and ferry their cargo to the mainland. Ships were loaded and offloaded directly at the piers thus saving time and money. At Khiyan, for instance, where Moichi and the DaiSan had embarked aboard the Kioku for their long voyage south, this had not been possible; the ship, standing off, had had to send a longboat in to pick them up.

  The shuddering of the pier brought him out of his thoughts. Timbers creaked and waveless lashed at the wooden pilings beneath them. The Tsubasa had docked.

  Chiisai was an apt name for her.

  She was the only daughter of the Kunshin and she looked like a flower. Moichi had no idea what her name meant but what he thought of the moment he saw her appear on the high poop deck above him was a plum blossom. Dark and vibrant.

  She was small, he saw, as she approached them, coming slowly down the ornamental gangplank, stepping onto the pier to meet them. But that, he soon found, was deceiving for she was no girl but a full-blown woman.

  She had a delicate flower-petal face with long dark-almondshaped eyes and the high cheekbones of the Bujun. Her mouth was wide and sensual, which was unusual. She wore the wooden clogs used for ceremonies and she was garbed in a silk robe reaching down to the tops of her feet. It was pure white, perfectly dazzling in the strong sunlight. Embroidered upon it was a series of leaping flying fish in a pale bluegreen.

  This was all as it should be. But as she came to a halt before them and bowed, they bowing back in turn, Moichi became aware of something odd about her appearance. For a moment, he was quite at a loss to define it. Then, abruptly and with somewhat of a shock, he saw that her hair was bound in the traditional Bujun queue usually reserved for the male warriors.

  Two tall Bujun stood still as statues at either side of the upper end of the gangplank, still on the ship. No one had accompanied her down This, too, seemed odd for this was the Kunshin’s daughter.

  She smiled. “Aerent, Regent of Sha’angh’sei, I bring greetings from my father, the Kunshin, from all the peoples of Amano-mori and from the Dai-San. We wish you well in your new post and offer our congratulations.” From within the folds of her robe she lifted out a small wooden box sealed all around its edges with pitch to keep out the moist salt air. Upon its top was imprinted in platinum the seal of the Kunshin of the Bujun, three plovers in full flight within the circle of the world. “With all our good wishes.” She extended the box toward him.

  Aerent, Moichi saw, had been taken somewhat by surprise. Now, as he took the gift from her, he seemed very moved.

  “Thank you, Chiisai. It is an honor to receive such a token. “

  “Oh, it is but a simple gift, Regent, I assure you,” Chiisai said. Her eyes were still laughing.

  Aerent used the edge of his dirk to slit through the congealed pitch. He pried open the lid of the box and stared inside. He was quite still for several moments. Then he carefully lifted out the platinum ring. It was a setting of exquisite manufacture, the set-piece of Ama-no-mori’s finest precious metalsmith. Within the setting sat a perfect pearl.

  Into the stunned silence, Chiisai said innocently, “My father felt this was a fitting gift for the ruler of the greatest seaport in all the known world.”

  Slipping the ring upon the fourth finger of his right hand his heart finger Aerent lifted his gaze to her face. “I am most delighted, Chiisai. And overwhelmed.” He gave her the present he had selected for her: a Sha’angh’sei quilted jacket of the finest silk and artistry, upon which had been embroidered both a blue heron, the Sha’angh’sei symbol of grace, and a rampant tigress, Bujun symbol of mastery of the land. Now he felt it to be totally inadequate in light of his own gift, but she seemed genuinely delighted with it, donning it immediately.

  Aerent stepped back a pace, about to introduce Moichi, but Chiisai, looking up out of the corner of her eyes, said, “And this must be Moichi AnnaiNin. Ten thousand pardons for my bad manners but I required some little time to acclimate myself.”

  “That is quite all right, lady.”

  She laughed. “Please call me Chiisai. It would be most

  unforgivable of me to continue this formality with you, so great a friend of the Dai-San.” She gazed up at him without a trace of awe but with a respect and affection he found surprising in its intimacy. “He wished for me to give you this when I saw you. “

  Moichi expected her to hand over the communique Aerent said was to be forthcoming but instead she embraced him, her grip firm and warm, as one warrior would another. A link stronger than blood, Moichi thought. My bond brother.

  “The Dai-San misses you greatly, Moichi.”

  “And 1, him.”

  She stepped up beside him, put her arm through his, as carefree as a little girl. “Well, I see you have turned out the honor guard, Aerent.”

  “It is to your liking, Chiisai?” the Regent asked.

  “As to its grandeur and display, most certainly. ” She ducked her head. “Yet I must tell you in all candor that it was quite unnecessary. This is a visit of an unofficial nature. My father wishes, and I wish, to make it quite clear that there should be no official tours, no dinners in my honor, no escort; in short, absolutely no affairs of state.”

  “I see,” Aerent said as they began to walk past the precise gleaming rows of the honor guard, though he most assuredly did not. “May I ask, then, the nature of your visit to Sha’angh’sei?”

  “You may,” she said, laughing. “Regent, you must learn to treat me as a woman and as the daughter of the Kunshin.”

  “Indeed, lady. I shall endeavor to do so.”

  “Good. Now as to my being here. My father feels strongly that I should not spend my entire life on Ama-no-mori; the Dai-San agreed with him. I am here to learn. That is why, you see, official parties and such will do me no good. In fact, I prefer not to have it widely known who I am.”

  Moichi laughed. “You set us quite a formidable task, Chiisai. In Sha’angh’sei, secrets of that nature are difficult indeed to keep from spreading.”

  “How is the Dai-San?” Aerent said.

  “Well and happy. My father is delighted to have him by his side. They are quite inseparable these days. They often ride out from the castle, spending many days in the wilds with only the plovers for company.”

  “I am happy to hear it.”

  “The Dai-san wished me to inquire after your injuries but I

  see that there is no need.” She had no more than glanced at his articulated ruby legs once since stepping ashore.

  They were at the foot of Three Kegs Pier now and about to enter the maelstrom of the bund’s frantic activities. Behind them, stevedores were offloading Chiisai’s baggage, directed by the Bujun sailors. There was no sign of either captain or navigator and this Moichi found strange indeed.

  But there was little time to contemplate such matters, for Chiisai was already leading him into the hive of the bond. Her skin, Moichi observed as she reached back to pull him forward and the wide sleeve of her robe slid back for a moment, was lightly tanned. This, too, was out of the ordinary. Bujun women prided themselves on soft white skin, and wide bamboo parasols, he had been told by the Dai-San, were plentiful in the streets of the cities, rain or shine.

  The jostling of the kubaru, the smell of the spices, the grain dust clouding the air, the shouts, half-songs, were all like stepping out into the surf of an unquiet sea.

  Chiisai seemed to know where she was going for she took them into the throng, heading toward the far side of the bund. There, almost directly across from Three Kegs Pier, was a small blue-and-white tent set up just in front of harttin’s windowless wall.

  They stopped in front of the tent’s opening and she said, “What is this place?”

  “It is the tent of a shindai, lady,” Aerent said.

  “A shindai.” She said it as if tasting a new flavor, testing its sound out on her tongue.

  “Yes, as the local diviners are called.”

 

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