War Priest 3: A Summer's Snow, page 15
Yoshimura Books? Arik thought, recalling that this was who had published the Coro Pache biography.
“All of it?” Tayaura asked, barely able to contain her surprise.
“All of it, everything I know. Things that you do not know, and perhaps, shadow-child, things that you should be wary of. It was my life’s work compiling it, and now, it will be your life’s work deciding whether to reignite these flames of illusion or leave the ashes to the wind. I realize that this is quite a heavy thing to consider.”
“You want me to start a new school?”
“I would like both of you to start a school one day, a joint academy. Once things have settled yet again and the realms are back to threatening war, but not actively pursuing it, this is what I would like you to do. This bookseller I know, she will give you the notes. Solongo is an old friend of your mother’s, of mine. But you know that already. And as for you, disciple, she may have a completed copy of the Coro Pache biography. I believe you may need it if you hope to locate the Demon Charm of Katano.”
Arik tilted his head as he looked up at the master illusionist. “The Demon Charm of Katano?”
“That actually exists?” asked Meosa.
“It is very real. How do you think Coro Pache was able to lead and inspire so many? He had a weapon that operated on pure Thunderaura, and a mask that blended both Chimaura and Thunderaura in its own way, all of it simply an interpretation of Yokaura. I am assuming you have come to understand this by now,” Hojo told both Arik and Tayaura. “These labelings we use are mere interpretations, and with practice and skill, they can be utilized in various ways. What I’m trying to say here is that the Charm of Katano is pure Chimaura. It will be incredibly useful to you and your cause.”
“I still don’t believe it actually exists,” Meosa told Hojo. “I would’ve told you, disciple, if it wasn’t just simply a rumor, something that Coro Pache was said to have.”
“We teach about it in the School of Illusion, kami. It is real, and I am assuming you will need the rest of that old biography to locate it. Perhaps Solongo will have it, or at the very least, she’ll have access to it. If not, it may be lost to time. Then again, there is also the bookseller in Avarga, so perhaps that will present another opportunity. You must find it, disciple.”
“I’ll do my best,” Arik said.
“There is one more thing we need to discuss, and it is about what will happen here over the next few days. My daughter will do what she needs to do to gain access to Kogu. I know that you want to be part of that, disciple, and you very well may be at the end. But the infiltration part is highly complex and risky, and she is right in saying that it is best that the two of you aren’t together during that time. While she is gathering the information that she needs, you will go to Mount Osore and deliver the crystal tea set and the pen knife to the itako. That is not all you will do there.”
Tayaura shifted in a way that told Arik that what her father was about to say next was also news to her.
Hojo continued: “You asked earlier if there was a way to see me again, and I never fully responded. There is something known as a soul gem that a highly trained itako, such as the one at Mount Osore, may be familiar with. Ask her about it. She may challenge you, and she may deny knowledge of it completely. But it never hurts to ask. Do you mind if I join you?”
Arik and Tayaura exchanged glances, and as they did Hojo floated closer to them. Tayaura naturally shifted to the side, the master illusionist taking a seat between the two of them.
At this proximity, Arik could feel the pull of the Hidden Warrior’s power, yet he still couldn’t see his face beneath the conical hat, nor could he make out details in his robes. If someone had seen them from a distance it would have looked like a dying star had settled between the two.
“Let’s enjoy this night together, what is left of it. In the morning, both of you will begin new journeys and once they are complete, you will reunite here in Minami. I have the utmost faith in both of you. There are important decisions to be made, shadow-children, but before you do so, you must visit Solongo.”
“I will, Father. I promise.”
“Good.” After a long pause, Hojo sighed. “What an absolutely beautiful night to be alive.”
“Do you… miss this world?” Arik asked.
“Not particularly, but I do miss being with people I care for. It is a true blessing, one that is often overlooked.”
.Chapter Four.
“The art of warfare is the art of deception.”
–A quote attributed to Hidden Warrior Torugan de Avarga, Year 1429.
There was no bidding farewell to Hojo, not in the way that Arik expected. The apparition didn’t fade away slowly, nor give any sign that his time had come. He was simply gone, leaving Arik and Tayaura on the rocks of the lighthouse as the sun rose, the tide sweeping in, everything at peace.
Tayaura stood, stretched her arms over her head, and turned back to the beach. Arik caught up with her after it was clear she’d leave him behind, the two heading in the same direction they had come from earlier. Without saying a word, which was uncommon for the kami, Meosa lifted both of them to the top of one of the cliffs that overlooked the beach. They continued on, and circled around the coastal city of Minami in the same direction they’d come. The two stayed back while Meosa checked the Hidden Warrior retreat for any signs of intruders. Once it was clear that no traps had been set, they took the stairs down to the cellar.
“What are you going to do?” Arik asked Tayaura, a question he had been holding back for several hours now.
“Do now? I’m going to do what we’ve already agreed to do. I will scout Kogu’s place following the advice of my father, and I will find a way to disrupt his operation permanently; you will head to Mount Osore to deliver the tea set and the crystal pen knife. If it is possible to obtain a soul gem, you will attempt to do so.”
“Not about that; about your father’s manuscripts.”
Tayaura removed her conical hat and sat down onto a cushion. She looked down at her hands.
Meosa flared up, Arik noticing an instant change in the humidity around him. “It is his dying wish, shinobi-ess, whether you like it or not. You shouldn’t simply leave it at the bookseller. That would be akin to desecrating his grave. Aside from the information they contain, and how dangerous it would be in the wrong hands, those writings are his life’s work.”
“I’m aware, kami. I never said I’d leave them behind.”
Arik retrieved his Coro Pache biography and began flipping through the pages while Meosa and Tayaura argued. Yet again he came to the back, where most of the information was missing. “I need to go to the bookseller as well,” he said as he showed her the book. “I need to know more about the Charm of Katano.”
“I will get what my father has written, that’s not the question here,” Tayaura finally said. “I just don’t know what I’ll do next. I’m not the type to start a school.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Arik. “You’ve been teaching me about Chimaura.”
“Do you know what starting a school would entail? First, who would be the instructors? Just me?”
“And me,” Meosa said. “Why not? I know quite a bit about history.”
“But not about Chimaura. Need I remind you that your knowledge of history has a five-hundred-year gap?”
“No, you needn’t. I have some understanding of Yokaura,” Meosa told her. “And the disciple here could certainly teach Revivaura if he was able to procure the right material. Isn’t that right, my boy?”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“You’ve already taught her and she seems to be getting better and better.”
Arik shook his head. “It’s not that easy, Meosa.”
“Are you two numb?” asked the kami. “That’s what the master illusionist was referring to. He wants the both of you to start a school together. Think about it. A school that focuses on Chimaura and Revivaura, with maybe a dose of Yokaura courtesy of me. Oh, what am I saying? The last thing I want are students, more youthful dimwits to deal with on a daily basis. Look at me wishing for complications in a life that is already complicated!” Meosa laughed bitterly at himself. “How utterly stupid of me.”
“We can discuss this later,” said Tayaura after an uncomfortably long pause. “Perhaps we should rest and then visit the bookseller in the afternoon. Then you can set out on your journey. Are you hungry?”
“I am,” Arik said.
“Good. Save that hunger. We’ll eat later, when we get to town. One more thing.”
“Yes?”
Tayaura finally looked up at Arik. “While you’re gone, I want you to work on what I showed you about changing your features. I’ll do the same with Revivaura. You’re healed now and it’s time to get a better grasp of Chimaura. As for my father’s question about the One-Count Strike, you should practice that as well. Maybe I can help. I am by no means an expert, but I’ve certainly been studying Thunderaura longer than you. Try to get some rest, disciple.” She nodded to the bed. “I will do the same. We could both use some sleep.”
****
It was too warm and humid for Arik to rest through the day. He tossed and turned, never fully asleep yet also never fully awake. By the time Tayaura said his name to wake him, Arik gauged that quite a bit of time had passed based on the way light was now slipping into the cellar. It had been at least six hours, yet it felt like all of six minutes.
Miserable, he sat up and yawned, a scent reaching his nose that told him Tayaura had made a mint tea. He drank this readily, the tea filling his stomach for the time being.
After tea, they transitioned to their disguises. Using makeup and her haori cape, Tayaura was able to transform her appearance into a nearly unrecognizable woman, one with messy hair and thick makeup. She then worked on Arik, whom she had wear his hair long and braided at the front, the strands framing his face and tied beneath his chin.
“Don’t you look cute,” Meosa said as she continued working on the disciple.
Makeup changed the contours of his face, Arik’s nose looking more defined by the time Tayaura had finished. She then rearranged his clothing, which was a bit uncomfortable considering that she treated him like he was a doll, stuffing fabric here, tightening other areas using pins there, and patting him down at points to make sure everything seemed even.
They left the safehouse, Tayaura affecting a walk that had her swaying her hips in a way Arik had never seen her move before. Gone were her light shinobi steps and overall feline gait, replaced by someone who moved in an almost clumsy, playful way. Yet again, he found himself highly surprised by the depth of her transformation. Even if he was impressed, it didn’t surprise him in the least. She was Hojo’s daughter and had spent her entire life around a man who excelled in hiding who he was, a man powerful enough to leave a double behind through his knowledge of archaic chi practices. It was only natural for her to be so natural.
The brief thought of Hojo conjured an image in Arik’s mind’s eye of the illusionist floating before them, his face obscured. The more he tried to pinpoint what Hojo had looked like in his spiritual form, the less he could remember. It was to the point that he began to wonder if Hojo had mostly been a blur, Arik’s mind doing the rest to fill in the gaps. At least he had heard Hojo’s voice. Even if he could never obtain a soul gem, at least he’d heard the master illusionist’s voice one last time.
Arik only stopped thinking about the previous night’s experience once they reached the city, which was divided along straight roads that all led to the docks. Zigzag side streets didn’t seem to be a thing in Minami, making it the exact opposite of some of the other Jadean cities Arik had visited like Avarga, and the ancient former capital of Iga. Since Tayaura seemed to know where she was going, Arik simply followed her, the two passing under awnings connected across several of the buildings, which provided refuge from the blazing afternoon sun.
At about the point that they reached what Arik assumed was the center of Minami, they turned to the north, along a road lined with quaint cafes and noisy merchants with sunbeaten wares on display. The merchants sold everything from necklaces to seashell trinkets, the men and women with cloths draped over their heads to protect against the sun. The cafes and shops gave way to people selling fish and other seafood. A man perched on a wooden crate yelled out prices and slapped a large red fish. Another held crabs, which he used to ‘talk’ to one another in an effort to entertain the crowd and hopefully net a few customers.
It was a lively area, the last place Arik would have expected to find a bookseller.
Yet tucked away behind one of these fishmongers was a tidy little shop without a sign. The smell of fish and sea was replaced by the sweet, almond-like smell of a bookshop upon entering the shop. Behind a stack of tomes, her head covered by a haori cape, was a petite, dark-haired woman perched on a stool. She looked up at Tayaura and snapped her book shut. “It’s you,” she said, her face going pale. “Please—”
“I’m not here about that,” Tayaura told her. “I’m here for my father’s books.”
****
Solongo had been reading a book with torn binding, one held together by a wooden clasp that she had clearly crafted. A firm smile took shape on her face, and as it did Arik noticed something about the woman that he hadn’t picked up on initially. It was an illusion. Those weren’t her facial features, her hair wasn’t dark, and the more he stared at her, the more he realized she was obscuring the way that she looked. Is she an illusionist? Arik thought as he tried to make sense of what she was doing.
“You can let your guard down,” Tayaura said. “The disciple knows what we are capable of.”
Giving Solongo permission seemed to do the trick. It was as if Arik had been looking at her from beneath the water and had just surfaced to see her actual face. Her cheekbones were quite prominent, her lips small, chin well-rounded, her hair somewhere between blonde and brunette. Her leonine eyes struck him as odd, shifting from gray to green and back again in the time it took her to stand, her petite hands now clasped in front of her body.
“Where is Hojo?”
“Not here,” was all Tayaura said, and upon hearing these words Solongo’s top lip began to quiver.
“Please don’t tell me—”
“Why else would you expect to see me?”
Arik watched as a lump got stuck in Solongo’s throat. She finally swallowed, the bookseller dipping her head in a mixture of what Arik sensed was sadness and shame. “Very well. I hope… I only hope that he didn’t suffer.”
Tayaura’s silence was telling. Her behavior started to annoy Arik, and certainly Meosa, who was already whispering mean things in his ear. It was clear that Solongo cared for Tayaura’s father. Why was the illusionist being so cruel to this woman?
“We need his writings.”
“His writings? Yes, his writings. Please, follow me.” Solongo led them through a room cluttered with books stacked upon books as well as scrolls protected by display boxes. The bookshop became labyrinth-like once they reached the second room, which had enough books in it that Arik had to be careful where he was stepping. It was a bibliohoarder’s dream, the smell of old books and stale air almost overpowering. “Has this woman robbed a couple of bloody libraries or something?” Meosa asked so only Arik could hear.
“So many books,” was all the disciple said as they followed Solongo down the corridor, up a flight of stairs. It was here that they found a large work table gleaming with polish, the table set in the center of a room with bookshelves on every wall. No windows.
“It will just be a moment.” Solongo moved a rolling library ladder from one side of the room to the other, the wheels squeaking against the old wooden floor. She climbed to the top of the ladder, but rather than comb through the shelves, she used the outer spine of one of the books as if it were a handle. A she did so Arik recognized a false partition, Solongo slowly opening it to reveal a space behind the bookshelf with even more scrolls. He looked around again, wondering if there were any other hiding places.
When she returned, Solongo had two large volumes filled with sketches, diagrams, and what Arik knew immediately had to be Hojo’s handwriting. He felt an instant connection to the pages, yet looking at Tayaura, he couldn’t get a read on the illusionist, her facial expression solemn, her eyes focused on the table. The illusionist took the two big volumes and offered Solongo a curt nod. “Thank you. Disciple, I will meet you outside. Do not take long.”
She left, some of the tension in the space exiting with Tayaura as the bookseller turned to Arik. “She called you disciple twice now. What are you?”
“She just calls me that. I’m from the Onyx Realm, but I’m not a disciple. It’s a nickname for her.”
“By the gods, you really need to learn how to lie,” Meosa told Arik.
Arik continued speaking as if he couldn’t hear the aqueous kami: “Actually, I’m looking for something.”
“Oh?” asked Solongo as she once again clasped her hands in front of her body. She leaned into Arik, her pupils twitching a bit as she looked him over. “Well, if it is a book or scroll, I may have it. If not, I can generally find it.”
“I’m looking for a biography about Coro Pache, one published by Yoshimura Books. I have a copy already, but it is missing several of the pages in the back and I would like to see the completed version. I can pay you.”
“You can pay me, can you? What was your relation to Hojo?” she asked, skipping over his request.
“We should be asking the same of you,” Meosa whispered.
“I traveled with him for some time,” Arik told the bookseller. “He taught me some things about Chimaura and Thunderaura. He was a close friend and… a good man. I learned a lot from him.”
“I see.” Solongo leaned away from Arik and stepped to the exit. “Give me a few days to locate the biography. I don’t have a copy of it at the moment, but I do have a few sources, and may be able to find one. How long will you be in Minami?”
