FANFIC : PIRATES CHALLENGE : THE DRAGON AND THE FOXES PART 2

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

(Houtou Castle[near Tokyo])


With a moment's warning, Ran and Ken together might have been difficult for even Crawford to handle. That was why he ambushed them in a dark corridor of Houtou Castle. Faster and surer than any mundane, he punched them unconscious. He stepped over their bodies and loomed over Omi. “It would be better not to obstruct Takatori. He wants the traditional gift for giving up his share of prize money. Give it to him.”

“Me?” asked Omi. He must be checking the chances of escaping the corner Crawford had him in. Small. He'd be checking the chances of getting out one of his hidden weapons. Also small. He looked up innocently at Crawford. “These things aren't up to me, you know. By tradition, the fleetmasters of the involved fleets - ”

“Are only bucking Takatori because of you. You're taking advantage of his shirking to try uniting clans against him. It won't work, Tsukiyono. Fleetmasters are only used to short term alliances, and any you make will dissolve like foam.” He put his hand on the junction of Omi's neck and shoulder. The big thumb pressed Omi's throat. “I could have killed your men, and you, and got away with it. Think of that.” Got away with that murder for Takatori, and the next, and the next. But there would never be enough to satisfy Takatori.

Or to make his rule safe. That was what kept Omi alive. Crawford had Seen an Ezo united. As the vision came nearer, he Saw under a man as greedy as Takatori either the union would be brief, exploding into violent civil war, or Takatori would call in worse allies than Crawford to keep power. It needed someone smarter than Reiji Takatori. He looked down into Omi's eyes, and Omi looked back as an equal.

He left Omi and the Tsukiyono quarters. He stepped off carpet onto bare stone. The temperature dropped with a speed suggesting Omi had been using magic extravagantly. Crawford wondered if the fleetmaster, so cheerfully oblivious when he wanted, actually believed his talk of how Houtou Castle only needed a bit of time and effort to be livable again. Mages knew better.

Whatever had died at Houtou Castle had left its mark.

Void magic, the earliest of all, is also, in its natural state, the darkest. Great gaps had opened in the thick stone walls, the stone crumbling away to a dust so fine it turned patches of the soil around into glassy, barren clay. There were no wells or springs left. Even the ground that had held them had been squeezed and crumpled, as if something had drained desperately at them for the last drop. Crawford couldn't decide whether gravity was heavier, or people weaker.

Crawford smoothed the dull grey coat he was wearing. He'd change out of it as soon as possible. People were apt to forget he was a good hands on fighter, and Crawford liked to encourage that.

The small room he entered was mainly new timber. The old, cracked floor with its ugly stains had been thickly carpeted with quilts. A double layer of quilts, with good smelling herbs between them. Both the ceiling and the walls were faced with spellshields. When mages use spellshields, it means trouble.

Several windmages were gathered together practising on their variety of flutes, with a stormcaller on his drum tapping regularly. In fact, they were neither summoning shipping winds nor clouds for the farmers, but practising music.

He said to the senior of them. “We'll need a strong, steady west wind, as soon as possible.”



(Turtle City)

The elderly steward just had to tell someone. Since all the regular staff already knew, he came up and talked with the temps.

Sanzo asked, “What's Houtou Castle?” He straightened up and tested his back gingerly. Since Gojyo had taken him under his wing, Sanzo had done a number of hard jobs, but a full day's spadework was new.

It was Goku who'd found them this job. Many of the owners of the city's rooftop gardens, for various reasons, couldn't actually cultivate them. There were a number of contractors who hired the labour for them. They were always looking for workers and had to pay surprisingly well. Though most of Turtle City's cheap labour were peasants from the country, they'd immigrated to the city to get away from this. In fact, they would rather dig ditches and roads.

Their employer was an elderly man with a pleasant smile and sharp eyes, who'd put Gojyo down as 'from Hokkaido' without a murmur. His own roof garden had been converted to shanties for his poorest workers. He also provided medical advice and legal support to those who needed it. An hour a week in his Christian chapel seemed very low rent.

Gojyo liked the missionary, but dreaded the day he tried to convert Sanzo to Christianity. And what about when he realised Goku was a demon? Christians had a reputation for being prejudiced against demons.

This particular job was a flower garden, with gabions and extra terraces to fit more in. Even Gojyo didn't know some of the exotic kinds. They'd taken much longer than expected because Goku kept zoning out. Not that Gojyo could blame him after all his time in darkness.

Both the steward and Goku looked at Sanzo expectantly, not realising it was a simple question.

Gojyo told them, “He was raised on a mountain top.” To Sanzo, “I've only got the street version. The mages and landholders would tell it a bit different. It's a story used to warn women not to put their husband before their brother.

“You know how Ezo is all these little landholdings fighting against each other.” Sanzo looked at him with impatience. Even in Turtle City the squabbles between retinues of armed retainers was constant. In the countryside they'd found how it made travelling the bandit-ridden mud roads far slower and more dangerous. “Some people dreamed of an Ezo under one lord, perhaps an Emperor, like one of the Chinas. So peaceful and prosperous.”

“Idiots,” said Sanzo.

Gojyo looked at him sternly. “Some of them really wanted to do it for the good of Ezo. Gyumaoh was the other sort. He married a lady who claimed descent from the Sun Goddess - ”

Sanzo pointed out, “But everyone's descended from the Sun Goddess.” In Ezo, anyone getting too bossy is told 'You're not kami till you die'.

“I'm not,” said Goku.

“Everyone human, I mean.”

Gojyo said, considering, “I don't think I am, either. But maybe she came of the line of first born daughters, or something.”

The steward told Sanzo, “Gyumaoh was a bit more trouble than most of the wannabes. He got all that divine blood voodoo, and he got some serious kamis on his side.”

“Buddhist, no doubt,” said Sanzo. He was worldly enough to know the Buddhists usually took the blame.

Both the steward and Gojyo shook their heads. Goku said, “Serious bad guys. There was cannibalism.”

Gojyo said, “Weren't you threatening to eat me yesterday?”

Goku said with dignity, “That wouldn't be cannibalism.”

The steward said, “Anyway, Fleetmaster Tsukiyono's dumped them with the ghosts. They'll be wishing the mob'd got them, if half of what they say about Gyumaoh's true.” He looked at the dugover flowerbeds with grudging approval. “I guess if you've time to gossip, you've finished here. The lady of the house would like to see you.”

Goku said, “Just a little left. I can finish it off by myself.”

Sanzo scowled at him. He knew Goku was far stronger than him. Even wearing the gold limiter, his strength and speed would have made him a one man army for Takatori, if the man hadn't preferred his magic. He could have done the whole garden job far quicker, if Gojyo and Sanzo hadn't to keep reining him in, or refocussing him on the work. Still, Sanzo hated to be treated as weaker. Gojyo said, “Come on, kid.”

Crammed into rosebushes of all colours, the gardener's shed was tiny. Gojyo and Sanzo were crowded together as they washed up. Sanzo hissed, “Let me make it plain. You are not my father. Whatever bastard spawned me, my father is buried on the Westshining Mountain.”

“Whatever you say, Sanzo. Don't forget to wash your neck.”

As Sanzo followed him into the house, Gojyo could almost feel the glare drilling into the back of his neck. Sanzo must have looked back for a check of what his demon was up to. He said irritably, “Don't eat the tulips, Goku!”

“But it's interesting! The colours all taste a bit different, and - ”

“Don't.”

Following the steward, Gojyo and Sanzo left behind the loud noise of Goku not eating tulips.

All the servants were old, but they hadn't seen the mistress of the house. Gojyo had had fancies of a lovely young woman, blooming among the grey heads like one of her own flowers, but he wasn't surprised to find she, too, was old. He saluted respectfully. “Lady Momoe.” Not that she was a landholder, but the title was widely used in politeness.

“Good evening. Thank you for coming to see an old lady.” She smiled at them both, with a twinkle of bright eyes, and Gojyo preened. She must have been a stunner in her youth.

He answered gallantly, “We have never had a job better worth doing, or a someone more - ” when Goku arrived gabbling, “I didn't eat a single tulip, and I washed my hands all the way up to my shoulders, and when do we eat?”

“Shut up,” Sanzo told him, but looked at the steward meaningfully, so the man found something to put in Goku's mouth.

“My friend had told me what a good job you've done in the garden. Many men in your position are looking for a permanent job?”

Gojyo shook his head. “I'm very sorry, lady.”

“I didn't mean just garden work, though there'll be some of that. But I run a flower shop, and I'm looking for some younger staff to help me.”

“It'd be good,” said Gojyo. “Sanzo, you could - ?”

“You know who I'm after. And he's not in Turtle City.” Sanzo added grudgingly, “Thank you.” Gojyo and Goku looked at her, impressed. To get manners out of Sanzo was impressive. Sanzo went on, “But Gojyo needn't come. He - ”

“I've got somewhere to go, myself.” Gojyo said to the old lady. “It would have been a pleasure to work for you, and thanks.”

She raised an elegant eyebrow. Gojyo looked apologetic, Sanzo indifferent, Goku smiled back at her and shrugged. She smiled. Gojyo wondered where she learned not to ask questions. “Then you better have coffee and something before you go.”

“Great idea!” said Goku. “Except the coffee.”

For once Gojyo was more impatient than Sanzo about a social visit. Goku was dragged off mid bun, still protesting, “But there's no hurry!”

Gojyo was in a hurry. He barely gave them time to collect their luggage from their shanty. Gojyo looked around the quiet street. No one was in earshot, or look as if they wanted to be. “There's hurry, all right. We'll be too late as it is.”

Sanzo said dryly, “Would this have something to do with the piece of gossip the old man just told us?”

Gojyo turned on his heel and left the two of them standing there together. Strange, he'd always thought it would be Sanzo leaving him. He walked on toward the main road. He might be able to catch a lift on an oxcart heading in the right direction. If he caught some sleep in carts, and walked the rest of the time...

After a long moment, he heard the sound of two sets of footsteps following, even now reflexively in step with him. Without looking around, he said, “What happened to looking for your father's murderers?”

“They might be in Houtou Castle. We are going to Houtou Castle, I presume.” Gojyo looked around then. But night came early among the tall buildings of Turtle City. He couldn't see well enough to read those expressive, violet eyes.

Goku's disgust was plain. “Kamis'n'lightning! Just 'cause the guy's another Chinese?” They caught up to him and walked beside him.

“No. Because of Hyakugen Maoh. You know,” he looked at Sanzo and started again. “Us Chinese think if it's Chinese, it's better.” Sanzo didn't look as if he cared, but he better know these things. Especially as there was a small chance he might actually meet the guy. Gojyo turned his head, to show he was talking to Goku, but all his attention was on Sanzo. “That includes medicine. Cho Hakkai – he was Gonou then – and his sister were raised Western. They were trying to teach Western things like medicine in the back country. Didn't please Hyakugen one bit. He was making a very good thing out of Chinese medicine, him and his cult. When Gonou's sister fell sick, Gonou went to get a Western doctor, and Hyakugen forced the village where she was to hand her over. Claimed he was going to cure her.”

Goku said, subdued, “Guess he didn't.” Goku would identify with the sister taken to be a tool.

“She died. So Gonou killed Hyakugen, and killed his sect, and killed the villagers who'd handed her over.”

Sanzo sneered. “And that's the guy you want to save.”

“That's the guy.” Gojyo added, “I passed through that bit of country, when Hyakugen was running it. He wasn't just a quack. He was killing people in other ways, too.”

“So you mean to walk to Houtou Castle, which would take about ten days on the best road - ”

“Something might happen to delay them,” said Gojyo hopefully.

“To tell a good portion of the landsmoot and some of the most powerful mages in Ezo they should let Cho go because he saved the life of some Chinese peasants.”

Gojyo tried to think of a better way to put it, but Sanzo had an unpleasant habit of the bald truth. “I'm going anyway.”

“No.” Sanzo stopped abruptly, and grasped Gojyo's arm as he tried to go on. Gojyo tried to pull away and was surprised. When had the kid gotten so strong? “Never mind the mages and landholders. They'll be gone by the time we get there anyway. One way or the other. Houtou Castle is a place of old, bad power. The idiots will be stirring it up every day they spend there.”

Gojyo grinned. “You'll take care of that.”

Sanzo gave a 'chh' of frustration. Goku said, timidly, because even a demon doesn't want to get mixed up in a domestic, “I might have the answer.”

Sanzo kept holding Gojyo's sleeve. “If you can knock some sense into this idiot's head...”

“I can get us to Houtou Castle quick.”

“Ch. Let's get on with it, then.”

Now Goku began leading them. Not to the road, but to the sea. They were abruptly walking in back alleys. Both Gojyo and Sanzo checked the weight of the knives in their sleeves.

Gojyo shook his head. He'd been living in Ezo long enough to know sailing was quicker than trudging. Actually getting the passage was another thing. Still... “Imp, the harbour's that way.”

Goku didn't sound as cheerful as usual. “We're not going by boat. A – person – I know will give us a ride.”

Sanzo sounded resigned. “I gather this person isn't human?”

“No.” A moment for thought, between dodging through paving where the stones had been worn down into obstacles. “It is dangerous for humans.” Goku stopped so suddenly the others almost ran into him. He turned around to peer at Sanzo. “We've not had time to look through Turtle City for those guys. We could let Gojyo go by himself.”

“They're not here,” said Sanzo definitely. “And Houtou Castle sounds just the right place for them.”

“Okay.” Goku led the way down to the beach, and quite a way from the city. After a walk Gojyo thought far too long, he turned to them, and said apologetically, “Would you mind waiting here for a while? There are ways of summoning we don't like humans to know.”

Sanzo said, “As if I want to call demons anyway.” He turned his back, and folded himself down on a small dune.

After going about thirty yards further, Goku waded out into the sea. He must have been at least waist deep when he stopped. Gojyo had no scruples about straining his ears, but he couldn't hear even a whisper of sound.

They waited quite a while. Gojyo had almost convinced himself this was just to keep him from haring off to Houtou Castle, when Goku turned around and beckoned.

They came to the sea edge, and Goku beckoned again. They waded in reluctantly. Gojyo was grumbling to himself about imps. Sanzo was silent, but Gojyo could feel the anger rolling off him.

When they'd reached the demon, Gojyo asked, “How much longer do we have to wait on this pal of yours?”

Goku said, “He's here.” He pointed.

The humans looked. It was a clear summer night. Well out to sea, something dark floated. Roughly disc-shaped, spotted with dull white and beaded with phospherescent green. As well as Gojyo could judge from the dark-glinting colours against the glinting dark sea, about as wide across as two main masts. Gojyo would as soon have had some overcast.

It sounded like an order when Goku told Sanzo, “Wait here. I'll need to be right beside you so he can distinguish you from food.” Goku grabbed the luggage and waded out to sea before Sanzo could say anything about it.

When they'd got a bit closer, and Gojyo could distinguish the long frondy tendrils, he asked, “Why am I going first?” He added hastily, “Never mind. I don't want to know.”

Gojyo was always surprised at how human Goku's laugh sounded. “You wouldn't want it any other way.”

Then they waded actually into the living net. Gojyo could see long yellow barbs set in the tendrils. Those he managed to avoid, but he had to brush constantly against the tentacles themselves. They felt cold, and they just floated, as if they were made of metal. The idea was suggested by a faint grinding sound, like something mechanical.

Taking obvious care with his aim, Goku tossed their two bags onto the great back. “I'm going to put you there, now. Watch your feet.”

It all looked pretty dark to Gojyo, and he strained his eyes to see what he was meant to watch for. “Those bright dots, they're eyes?” About a hundred eyes, set irregularly around the rim.

“No, there's not much use for eyes where he comes from. They're – um – like ofuda birds, but for killing things. They're poisonous. The actual edge is poisoned, too, so- ”

With no more warning, he grabbed Gojyo, one hand holding the scruff of his neck, the other his belt. He threw the tall man neatly over the rim. Gojyo came down in a flurry of long limbs, remembering desperately there was something he wasn't meant to be touching, and tucking them in.

He'd been thinking of this demon as a large and very strange beast, but not now. The black back was so cold, not just the neutral cold of metal but like ice. The surface was textured so it should have felt like tortoiseshell, but didn't.

He was between two white discs. Those were where the noise was coming from. They were mouths, great circles, each a ring of knives, self sharpening teeth forever opening and closing. Well, he didn't need to be told not to go there.

Nor near the green, glowing – things. One was lying, or rooted, not too far. It looked like a small simple model of a fish. It, at least, didn't move, and Gojyo hoped that would continue.

He turned around, very carefully, and watched Goku escort Sanzo through the net.

Sanzo wasn't thrown up by the scruff of his neck. Goku picked him up around the waist, and said something with a grin before putting him carefully on the larger demon's back. Gojyo couldn't hear what, if anything, Sanzo said in return. That Goku didn't get his head smacked seemed to Gojyo most unfair. If Gojyo had done that, he'd have had his head knocked off entirely. Goku grasped the edge and clambered up with a distinct, “Yow! That smarts!”

Sanzo moved toward him. “Goku says we should wait in the centre.”

Gojyo looked over a further expanse of demon, and shivered. “It's even colder there.”

Sanzo huffed with impatience, and passed him, towards the centre.

It was colder. Here, the creature's sea smell suddenly took on a taste of something like dead meat. Sanzo sat in the dead centre of the cold, on a plate of dark not-horn, and assumed lotus position. He looked up at Gojyo. Impatiently, “Come on.”

Gojyo sat at the very edge of the plate. As the monster began to surge forward in long sinuous waves, Gojyo found himself unsteady, and edged a little closer.

Then closer still. Sanzo radiated cold. With a sudden fear his younger friend was dying of exposure, Gojyo ignored the freezing sea wind and took off his coat, and wrapped Sanzo in it. He rubbed Sanzo's hands and arms.

Sanzo, who'd been almost relaxed, tensed back to normal. “Idiot! I was in a meditation technique. The cold wouldn't have hurt. I'd let it in, and attuned myself to it.” Suddenly he shivered. Meditation seemed to have worn off.

Gojyo said meekly, “Sorry.” He drew even closer and wrapped himself around Sanzo, from behind, and the coat around them both. It disconcerted Sanzo, but after obviously wondering whether to knife Gojyo, he relaxed, for Sanzo, and put his head back against Gojyo's shoulder. Gojyo shifted a little away, reluctantly.

All at once, he remembered he was on a mission which might get them killed, and sat upright to see where their pet demon had gone. Goku was at the larger demon's forward bit of edge, which probably served as a head for it. Gojyo couldn't hear anything, and if there had been words at anything like normal level he would, but something in the stance of the smaller demon convinced him they were talking in some way.

Sanzo said very quietly, “Let him talk with his own kind for a bit. Do you have any plan what to do once we get to Houtou?”

Gojyo nodded. “Sure. We sneak up on them, spy out where Cho is, break in, fight our way in until we've reduced the castle to a ruins, and rescue Cho at the very last minute.” Sanzo twisted around and glared at him over his shoulder. At night his violet eyes looked blue. They still glared very effectively. Gojyo shrugged. “It worked the first time, when Gyumaoh was about to sacrifice his virgin daughter to some power of darkness, and her brother broke in and rescued her. You don't think Kougaiji and Dokugakuji sat around moaning how difficult it was - ?”

“You don't have the least idea what to do, do you?” For a moment Gojyo wondered if Sanzo was going to revoke his ban on Gojyo-eating. Then Gojyo glimpsed an expression different from the normal impatience with which he normally looked at Gojyo. More softly, “And you really would have gone up against everything in Houtou Castle, alone and with no idea what to do.”

Goku suddenly shouted, closer than he'd been when Gojyo last looked, “Hey, Sanzo, we're here!”

“Can't be,” said Gojyo impatiently. It was a full day's sailing with the wind for an Ezo sloop.

“It is,” Goku assured him. “Sanzo, want us to drop the bum off while we go somewhere more interesting?”

After the lights of Turtle City, this beach looked bleak enough Gojyo wondered if Sanzo might agree.

Goku helped Sanzo off first. When he'd reached land, Sanzo sat on the beach. He looked controlled and graceful, but Gojyo suddenly remembered he'd had a hard day, and no rest that night.

He wasn't feeling too energetic himself. At the edge of the sea demon he looked rather blankly at Goku down in the water, before he realised Goku was waiting for him to step on his shoulder, and down. “Won't that hurt you?”

“I wouldn't offer if it did.” Gojyo was balancing at his most precarious, when Goku said, “Might hurt you, though. And I will, if you don't stop distracting Sanzo with this spaniel stuff.”

Gojyo stepped down much more clumsily than he should have. “How in all hells did you notice that? I've only just noticed it myself!”

“I haven't been living in a cave, you know.”

Gojyo sloshed up to his full height, and opened his mouth to tell this awol prison guard just where he got off, when Sanzo called out, “Stop arguing, you two. The night's getting on.”

Gojyo made to storm off through the tendrils, but Goku grasped his shoulder. “I have to keep hold of you.”

“Yrcch.”

“Likewise.”

Once they had got off the beach, and pine forest was giving them a very little shelter from the wind, Sanzo and Goku made mage and demon gestures while Gojyo dripped, and tried to sponge himself dry with pine needles.

Sanzo told him, “Houtou Castle's that way.”

Gojyo walked one step, two, then stopped. “Aren't you coming?”

“Maybe.” Sanzo was looking at Goku. “That depends on what price Goku asked the demon for our passage.”

The sea wind suddenly got very cold indeed. Gojyo stared at Goku.

There was enough moonlight between the trees so Gojyo could see Goku stand still with a shocked expression. Then the demon burst into protests. “No! No, I'd never do that to you, Sanzo! I know what you risked to get me out of my prison, what Takatori would have done to such a strong heaven mage in his power. I wouldn't feed you to another demon.” He thought for a moment, and his tone became more its normal cheerful one. “I wouldn't even do that to the bum here.” He put out his hand, and Sanzo touched it. Goku bounced back quickly, as always. “That sea demon was a pet of what died at Houtou Castle. He gave us a ride, which was a very little thing to him, and I said I'd tell him what had happened to his master.”

Gojyo thought of a faithful hound, waiting centuries. Sanzo, more practical, asked, “Will he take vengeance for his master's death?”

“I didn't tell him.”

Gojyo started, “But - ”

Sanzo interrupted. “Komyou didn't teach me much about dealing with demons. But he did tell me it was best not to know too much about their dealings with each other. Sooner or later, you'll find out something so alien or repulsive you won't be able to deal with them right yourself.”

Gojyo noticed the rasp in the velvet voice. Either he was too tired to see straight, or Sanzo was swaying slightly on his feet. Gojyo yawned extravagantly and said, “Well, whatever we do when we get there, we'll need some sleep before we do it. I'm dead beat.”

Goku chimed in eagerly, “Yeah, I'm real tired, too.”

“Idiots.” Sanzo walked on. “The castle's a good distance from the sea. We've got a chance, but we need every minute.”

It was by no means the first time Gojyo had needed to scramble through brush, and up and down small but adequate mountains, in the dead of night. The branches of this wood seemed heavier and thornier, and the ground more uneven and slippery than usual. Goku helped him once or twice, around a deadfall, or out of a boggy spot.

Sanzo ignored any offer of help from either of them. Unlike Gojyo, and even Goku, he didn't try to dodge the lashing, cutting branches, he didn't look for the easiest path through rough ground. He just walked in a straight line, and ignored the bruises it got him.

At length they saw open ground ahead of them. Not only open, but mostly dead. Gojyo smelled a faint, unpleasantly metallic smell from it, and to judge by Goku's wrinkled nose, the demon smelled it much more. About fifty feet from the abrupt edge of the vegetation was the dark, almost unlit bulk of the castle.

Gojyo said, “Stop, Sanzo!”

Sanzo seemed to find it rather hard to stop. He stumbled a few sleep walker's steps more, then flung out his arm to prop himself against a crooked tree. He didn't look around, as he asked, “What?”

Gojyo sat down. The bliss of it closed his mouth and eyes for a moment, but not for long. “These guys aren't going to just welcome in any stranger who knocks on their gate. We wait here until daylight, until well into the morning so they don't think we're a dawn attack, and then we knock on the door. And we'll ask humbly,” he looked at Sanzo, who was concentrating on keeping his head erect, “I'll ask humbly, for mercy; and point out a live admiral has more ransom value than a dead one.”

Sanzo laughed, very brief and tired. “The last point might carry some weight with them.”

“Maybe.” Gojyo thought of ruthless, inexorable Celestial bureacracy. And the equally ruthless whim of local warlords, which could be turned aside by another whim. He said, “Sit down before you fall down.” He got up - he was too young for arthritis, surely? - and lumbered to help Sanzo.




The would be king Gyumaoh had built his main court on the same outsize scale as the rest of Houtou Castle. According to the stories, it had been of dark stone, with no colour, and the king had stood on a platform at the end, well above everybody else.

But time had painted the black stone green, and the great blocks were splitting like spring ice. Occasionally, a bold bird would fly overhead, though none had yet sung here. On this fine summer morning, it would take a mage to feel the ghosts. Only the gates and outer wall, magicked to a slippery smoothness to repel stealthy attacks, stood as firm as ever.

The space gave the two factions of fleetmasters room to keep apart from each other. The loot was between them. It included all prisoners except those too sick to taken from their beds. Admiral Cho had been kept apart from his men. Manacled, he'd been crowded between racks of silvershot, scattered carelessly, and a pile of Chinese charts and maps, which the Ezo had carefully packed in oiled paper.

The two white-flag factions were standing tensely,almost in fighting formation, no hand far from the sword hilt. The mages were either with their friends, or well back.

Ran's attention had been distracted by a particular red-headed windmage, with a bruised face and limp. Schuldig came in, and stared hard at Crawford; hesitating a long time before joining him at the table where his party sat. It took Ran hard effort to focus his attention where it should be, on the argument between Takatori and Omi.

Ken had been a friend of Omi's for some time. He'd told Ran how Takatori had settled with Omi years ago. Their duties were to their respective clans, and it would be treachery to let any fatherly sentiment get in the way of that duty. Ken hadn't believed it, nor did Ran, but they didn't know if Omi did.

Certainly Omi hadn't been expecting this. Perhaps his half brothers hadn't, either. They looked surprised, and almost as if they'd contradict their father. But good, obedient client clans they were, they let him sum up the Takatori position.

“This law of the fleets you talk about was a tradition for when contending parties were equal enough so neither could afford to fight. But we're strong enough so we can take it anyway.”

Omi knew that. If the loot had been just precious stones and metals he'd never have dragged the fleetmasters all the way to Houtou Castle, not to mention risking his men's life like this. But it was European ships and weaponry, and the men who knew how to use them.

Crawford said mildly, “May I suggest a compromise?”

Both parties looked at him in surprise. The Tsukiyonos were expecting it to be unpleasant.

He went on, “I suggest the falcon flag be allowed to walk out with title to all ships and weapons taken in the engagement we've been discussing. The Tsukiyono party be allowed to keep all prisoners.”

Takatori reddened. “And why should we compromise at all?”

“Because that's the best deal you'll get out of the Tsukiyonos. If you try to take all, they'll fight. And we'll back them.”

Takatori's hands clenched into fists. “Treacherous scum! After all I've given you!”

“You've paid me for services, which I gave in good measure.”

“And what are the Tsukiyonos offering you?”

“I'd back the Tsukiyonos for the same reason I've been backing you.” Crawford was looking at Omi, now. “Ezo's going to have to unite to deal with the rest of the world. I thought you were the best hope of that. But if the Takatoris try to pull a Gyumoah, Ezo'll find itself in civil war.”

Ezo mages' loyalty lay with their sect or their clan, many would fight for Takatori. But Oracle, and the sects who looked to him for leadership, made a strong difference. All the fleetmasters watched the mages. Ran kept his eyes on the nervous and hostile guards around Takatori and his two elder sons.

Masafumi smiled at Naoe's girlfriend Nanami, and asked, “Wouldn't you and Naoe like to come with us? I can promise you your father's head.”

Nanami tossed her head and walked over to Admiral Cho, who was still trying to work unobtrusively on his silver manacles. “Hakkai's already promised me. I'll stick to Hakkai. So will Nagi.” Naoe followed her. His hands were free, but Ran had no doubt there was an efficient silver collar under the warm winter coat.

Having seen there was no chance he could slip out of his manacles unnoticed, Cho decided to make an important point. “All this loot you're quarrelling over is the property of His Imperial Majesty, ourselves included. While he might be disposed to generosity towards those who returned his property, he certainly has the means to recover it.”

Takatori shrugged. “Work out your own ransom with Tsukiyono here.”

There should, Ran thought, have been something more dramatic to start the long clan war coming, rather than these chiefs trailing off, not defeated but with the conviction they'd been cheated out of victory. In the ranks, some men, both warrriors and mages, didn't seem too sure which side they were on. There was a milling at the outer gate, with some last minute personal arguments.

At length the Takatori party was out. Oracle nodded. “Now, Naoe, shut and bar the gates.”

Naoe looked at Cho, who hesitated a moment, then nodded. The great stone gates swung shut, and the tree-size bar was dropped across it.

The Ezo watched the earthmage prisoner with no limiter. A firemage had a ball flaming in his hand, and Schuldig said, “You'll burn us all.” An arrow flew, and was stopped just short of Naoe's face, where it dropped to the ground. A loose circle formed around him, of men with drawn swords.

Omi ignored Naoe, and walked over to Oracle. “And why should they want to come back?”

Beyond the wall they heard a light, childish tenor yell out, “Takatori!” Takatori men shouted back.

Very soon afterward the screaming started.

Oracle said, “Keep the gates barred, Naoe.”

Many of the men listening to the sounds outside were hardened cutthroats, but they listened with horror. Ran wondered how many friends, how many brothers..? Nanami was smiling, just a little.

What Omi felt, perhaps even Omi didn't know. He was watching Crawford with much the same high strung alertness Cho was. Ken and Nagi were showing honest apprehension. Ran was too busy keeping an eye on the nervous crowd. There was a good chance someone would try to take the price of a death out of Crawford's hide, and Omi would be caught right in the crossfire.

Crawford stooped close to Omi, and Omi didn't even flinch. Ran heard Oracle whisper, “Just don't be a Takatori.”

Omi nodded, turned away from Oracle, and walked over to Cho. Naoe was concentrating on the gates, but Nanami watched the three approaching with her hand up her sleeve. Ran didn't like the way her wrist tensed. Possibly Omi felt the same, for he asked her courteously, “If I may borrow your knife, Lady Nanami?”

Nanami screwed up her face as she thought it over. She didn't look to anyone else for advice. Then she shook her head firmly. “It was a present from Nagi.”

There was one final cry for help from beyond the wall. When it was cut off, everyone in the courtyard found himself listening. Omi turned to Ken. “Friend Ken?”

Ken handed him a knife. Omi went to Cho – the admiral didn't blink an eyelash – and bent over his manacles, using the knife to fiddle with them. Ran heard him mutter something about getting a set of lockpicks. “Admiral, we can just ransom you back to the Emperor, and you come back next year, and we do this all over again. Or we can go somewhere comfortable, sit down and arrange at least the beginnings of a treaty.”

Cho was rubbing his wrists as Omi spoke. To a shifter that silver would have been no fun at all. Dressed in the same clothes he'd been taken prisoner in, with a few extra cell stains, he spoke as formally as if he and Omi had been meeting in full audience. “I have not been charged as delegate to the clans of the Ezo Islands, but to fight them.”

Omi smiled, a rather sharper smile than Ran was used to seeing on his face. “As I've just been reminded, I, too, have no powers to treat with you. If you talk to Oracle, not as an envoy, you can learn what, in the future, the Emperor may ask as terms. What could be a better service to your Emperor than that?”

“Will the Oracle, then, speak for Ezo?”

“No,” said Crawford mildly. No need to tell a shrewd politician that mages had been killed, just as often as men of the sword, for trying for too much power. The mages were a trifle more apt to be killed by their own side, that was all. “No one here speaks for more than a single clan or shrine. If the Emperor does want a treaty, he will have to wait on a meeting of the landsmoot.”

Cho smiled politely. “I am flattered you seek my assistance in this high matter, but I'm only a humble soldier, and even there I've failed.”

The Shirasagis were loyal allies of Omi's, and had quite a good intelligence service of their own. Reiichi said, “As about the most dangerous servant the Emperor has, he should be killed as quickly and cleanly as possible.”

Crawford said, “I agree.” He looked at Cho.

Cho looked back steadily. To the Ezo in general, “I only ask you ransom the ordinary sailors back to the Emperor.”

Crawford said, “Such a dangerous enemy must be destroyed. First, let's go up to the watch tower, and see how your rescuers are getting on.”

“Those can't be my rescuers. There's no one in Japan who'd lift a finger for me.”

“You're wrong there, too.”

Crawford turned on his heel and started towards the tower door. For once, Cho's smooth mask slipped. He looked at Omi, who smiled warmly back, and said, “I know less than you.”

Not only the fleetmasters and captains followed Crawford up the stairs, with much scrambling and cursing. The watchtower part was as worn as most of the castle. The builder had never dared to suggest to Gyumaoh an armed enemy could get into the castle. The stairs had been built on a straightforward, gentle slope rather than the usual switchback, so they were still usable. But not easy. Keeping as close to Omi's left as possible, Ran decided it was best to think of it as climbing a mountain rather than stairs. At length, they stood on the mountain ledge that had been the sentinel's walk. Everyone scanned the ground outside the wall.

Dead men lay on the dead ground. Ran found himself assessing the numbers, and decided if any of Takatori's men had escaped the killing, it would be very few. Enemy or not, he was glad they lay in fighting formation.

Three figures moved there. They were walking towards the gates. Two of them were nearly there, though they were walking very slowly. The third was rushing madly after them, carrying luggage.

Ran glanced at the various expressions of the people who were watching the battlefield.

And the one who was not. Crawford was looking up, not down. His tawny, inexpressive gaze was searching the sky to the west.

Then the pupils widened and focused. He said, “Yes, Cho is too dangerous an enemy of Ezo to be let loose. But he's too valuable an ally to throw away quickly. This lady,” he nodded at the sky, “carries news to make him an ally.”

Some looked at the sky, some looked at the ground to the west, some people just asked each other what he was talking about. Omi prodded Ken to shut him up.

Ran recognised the bird as a falcon by the flight. But it gleamed red as a ruby, against the blue sky. It came straight toward them. No, straight toward Crawford, who put up his arm so it could land on his unprotected wrist. The murderous talents didn't pierce his skin. It looked around at the men watching with dark, proud eyes.

Crawford said, “Well timed, Lady Kitada,” and lowered his arm.

In the air around it, the red spread and misted, like a drop of blood in clear water. It flowed and then solidified, and there was a woman standing on the stone ledge, a woman in the robes of a Chinese court lady, but her robes and her hair were gleaming red. Her eyes were as fierce and proud as the falcon's. She said, and she spoke Ezo like the native she looked, “For me, too. I nearly didn't make it. I couldn't have, except for the wind you sent.” She turned to Cho and offered him the Ezo salute. “I have a message you must see.” She used both hands to hold out to Cho Hakkai a small, thin packet wrapped in yellow silk. On the top was a heavy seal, in green wax.

Cho's eyes widened at the sight of it. Among the Ezo warriors, he bowed to it in full Chinese formality. Most carefully, he took it up, unsealed and read it. He dropped it.

Quite a few people asked questions, but his look was towards Omi's uncertain, “Fleetmaster Cho?” He waved at the package, which Ran could now see was nothing but a piece of paper, wrapped in further silk.

Omi stooped, picked it up without any ceremony, then looked uncertainly at Cho. The Admiral nodded. Omi read the Chinese ideographs, over-elaborated as they were, without trouble. “The Emperor – several absurd titles here – orders Cho Hakkai be given over to Dr Nii for research.” His voice rose incredulously. “That Dr Nii?” He checked something. “And the date's before Cho lost the fight.” To Cho, “What on earth did you do?”

With a long, slow blink of that green eye, Cho seemed to pull himself out of his shock. “The question is what did the Emperor think I did?” He looked at Lady Kitada, with a sort of quiet, silky anger. “What did you tell him I did?”

She looked back unblinking. “I told him nothing. Yes, I was going to work in an elaborate plot against you, and with Nii. But in the end, Nii just asked the emperor, and the emperor said yes, because you weren't worth annoying Nii about.”

“And my men?”

She shrugged. “Who in the Celestial Court is going to worry about the lives of a few seamen?”

Cho looked at Crawford. “What do you want?”

Crawford looked down at the gate. “Well, to start with, let's rescue your rescuers, before some firemage starts throwing things.”

It was Crawford's triumph, and everyone knew it. Ran was probably the only one who noticed Schuldig prowling down the great stone stairs of the other side, still frowning.




Cho was an ally who could be given the more power because he had no obligations to any clan or shrine of Ezo. For the last couple of days, the newly appointed Marshal had been organising things and people, and Schuldig didn't like being organised. He'd have turned his skin, except Houtou Castle smelled so wrong. It was on two feet he went to the west of the castle, looking for the afternoon sun.

Schuldig had grabbed at the chance to turn off the voices when he was young. But when he followed a path around one of Houtou's outer walls, beaten so low by weather it looked like a natural ridge, and found someone unexpected, he felt, somehow, he should have known that person was there.

He'd prefer being alone, but he decided not to go back just yet. Omi and Ken had mixed the Chinese prisoners and their Ezo jailers into teams of some bizarre Western ball game. 'To reduce inter-ethnic' tensions, Omi had put it, and it looked to Schuldig as if the reduced tensions were going to lead to manslaughter, at best.

They were on the western side of the wall. Goku was stripped to the waist, luxuriating in the hot sunlight. There was a basket on the ground beside him, he seemed to be planting something from it. Not in the poisoned ground, but in the sides of the wall.

Schuldig asked, “Some man-eating flower from an ancient hell?”

“No. Peaches. Agent Kitada told Sanzo something about Nii. He wants out of here quick, but I figured I could be this way in a few centuries, so I saved the stones of the peaches I just ate.”

Schuldig looked at the basket. It was a large one. “How many peaches did you eat?” Goku started counting on his fingers, then his toes. When he craned his neck to start on Schuldig's fingers, the mage said hastily, “Never mind, I don't want to know.”

Being as off-hand as he could manage, Goku said, “Brought some good soil for them, from the forest. It's over there in the shade.”

Schuldig didn't hurry. But he'd been raised in a nation of farmers and sailors, and now soil needed to be lugged, he found himself lugging it. Goku had stored it in old helmets from the Houtou armoury.

Bending down to put the final helmet by Goku's right foot, he saw a familiar pair of sandals. He'd encouraged Ran in the vanity of buying those expensive sandals, calfskin dyed dark red, if only to stop him buying a pair of utilitarian orange monstrosities.

Schuldig stood. “Hi, Ran.” He wanted to avoid everyone, but Ran headed the list.

Ran looked at him with those unreadable eyes. Schuldig wished even more he'd somehow kept his natural talent. Even without it, he understood most people well, but one of the things he valued about Ran was that he wasn't most people. Schuldig had no idea how Ran was taking Schuldig's tries at moving closer. Were they clownishly obvious? Completely unsuspected? Simply unwelcome?

Just now his deep voice was saying, “Nanami says I owe you something.” He looked at Goku, and then at the far end of the wall, more private-looking in shadow. It was so brief a flick of eyes few people could have read it.

And that easy better-than-talk was another thing Schuldig would miss, if Ran didn't want more than a neighbour.

Side by side, they walked to the private place. Totally uninterested, Goku was watering the planted seeds. Ran spoke softly anyway. “Nanami says I owe you a kiss.” Far from being grateful at this help, Schuldig decided that was it. Somebody would have to do something about that kid, and something drastic. Ran went on, and Schuldig deeply hoped his guess was right, and the stiffness showed embarrassment, not displeasure, “She told me you got all those bruises for my sake.”

Schuldig had almost forgotten the bruises. He scowled at the reminder. “A lot of good that did. I wanted to deck him for hitting you. I gave it my best shot, and I couldn't land one on him.”

Ran looked down briefly, then up at Schuldig. “That's not your place. I know you think of me as the kid who used to follow you around, but I'm a grown man and have to take my licks myself.”

That sounded a pretty good cue to Schuldig. He was on the point of explaining to Ran just how he did feel about him, when a voice rather like Ran's said, “No!” It wasn't too far away, and the man spoke loudly. Schuldig jumped.

The demon's master, and his Chinese friend, walked into view. In Sanzo's case this was more of a stride, but Gojyo's long lolloping legs had no difficulty keeping up.

Gojyo was a bit short of breath, “What the hell is the matter with you, kid? You're being a feather robed pain all round!”

“Stop hanging around looking at me as if I'd hidden your bone. Either say something or go back to women!”

Gojyo looked as if he sorely wanted a third option, then braced himself. “Right!” He was suddenly engulfing Sanzo with his long, red clothed arms, and veiling Sanzo's face with his long, red hair.

Spitting out the hair, Sanzo eventually struggled free. “Right, now we've got that settled, I want to get as much space as possible between us and Houtou Castle before dark.”

Gojyo grinned. “I think it's a hell of a romantic spot.”

They stood and looked at each other for a moment.

Then Goku, in sidling away, managed to kick several helmets at once.

When the clangor had died down, Sanzo snapped to his demon friend, “All packed?”

“Sure, Sanzo.” Sanzo turned away from Gojyo, into his original path, and Gojyo followed him. It looked as if he'd catch up soon. Goku picked up the bags and hurried after. A few steps on, he remembered his limiter and dashed back briefly to reclaim it.

Schuldig said, “We wouldn't be like that.” It wasn't a very poetic speech, but Ran wouldn't be getting a poet.

“I can't see you either doing that, or letting me do that. But we've got obstacles, too. And a big one is the one I was just saying. You're older, you're a magic user, you're used to being the boss. You're going to find it hard to treat me as a full equal, and you'll have to. Then there's - ”

“But you don't find me repulsive?”

Ran's smile was worth a long wait. Then he sobered. “But there other matters to be considered seriously.”

Schuldig said judiciously, “Yes. For about two seconds,” and pounced.



(in a dry riverbed in West China)

Nii forgot the constant pain of his hunger, as he forgot that of his feet worn to the raw flesh, and of his fingernails torn off digging for food that generally ran away before he could catch it. He looked avidly at the falcon patrolling the sky ahead. Beside the reflex appetite to anything alive as meat, the falcon might have found prey. Nii's mouth, still burned by his last try at plant food, watered at the thought of a live mouse.

If Nii had been capable of moral indignation, he might have felt it when he'd had to flee the court. After all he had done, the Emperor had tried to have him executed for something he hadn't. True, he would have got around to researching that red-headed concubine, but she'd disappeared too soon. As it was, he'd only felt a distant amusement.

He didn't mean to waste more time serving fools, however powerful. West of West China was Shangri La, with its Buddhist magic as strong as any on Earth. Nii meant to get his share of that. He could get through these hills eventually.

He made his way forward. He could no longer walk, but found it easier by now to go on hands and knees.

Wasn't that rock on his right the same as the one that had been on his left earlier? Carefully he checked the sun, as he checked the stars at night. It shone as bright and false as they had. Nii continued in his tightening, weakening circle.

Above him, the golden, violet eyed falcon continued to pattern the sky with his wings.


FIN