Part 7 (1/2)
He would address his visitor with the same elaborate degree of courtesy he would offer to a fellow-samurai; his voice and demeanour conveying no hint of approval, or disapproval. It would be up to Mr Snow and his unknown a.s.sociates to interpret his silence on the subject, and make their next move accordingly.
Nakane Toh-s.h.i.+ba, the Consul-General, had been under strict instructions to say nothing to the long-dog apart from disclosing that she was to be transported to another location, but it was all to no avail. Plunged into despair at the thought of their coming separation, he had been hopelessly indiscreet. Knowing that the man's tongue was as restless as his dong, Lord Min-Orota had taken care not to tell him the whole story, but the moment Clearwater knew she was to meet Yamaos.h.i.+ta at Kari-faran, she had guessed that the domain-lord must be taking her to see Mr Snow. April was the month when the Plainfolk began to prepare for the 'walk on the water' - the name they gave to the brief period of peace when the rival clans gathered at the trading post at the edge of the Great River.
Since Cadillac was, apparently, quite content to remain at the Heron Pool, Clearwater knew she would have to return to Ne-Issan. In fact, she had no choice in the matter. When she had turned on the tears at the news of their forthcoming separation, the Consul-General had been quick to console her. He had, he a.s.sured her, extracted solemn guarantees from Yamas.h.i.+ta that she would be provided with every comfort and returned to him unharmed.
Clearwater knew there was no time to lose. She begged to be allowed to take a small token of his affections with her. Something she could caress in the hours, the days, the weeks they would be apart. A small lacquered box, perhaps, decorated with images of her own choosing...?
And once again she had fixed him with that look. So appealing, so ardent, so full of promise.
Toh-s.h.i.+ba had been unable to refuse. Those eyes, ah!
Her eyes were like s.h.i.+mmering jewels. At one moment, they were sharp-edged emeralds, filled with blue fire, and in the next, they softened, melting into liquid azure pools. Had he been a stone, he would have plunged willingly into their mysterious depths. He had lost count of the number of women whose s.e.xual favours he had enjoyed - or made use of - but none had ever satisfied his physical desires or darkest fantasies in the way this long-dog had. She was, quite simply, the most skilled pract.i.tioner he had had the good fortune to encounter.
But she was more than just beautiful, her whole being exuded a mysterious, vibrant s.e.xuality. She was the embodiment of carnal desire. And Toh-s.h.i.+ba was so besotted with her, he was prepared to do almost anything she asked.
Within reason, of course.
The truth was somewhat different. The Consul-General had, without any shadow of doubt, penetrated Clearwater's body, but every time he did so, she penetrated his mind, imposing her will upon the fevered images within. Fantasy became reality. Tohs.h.i.+ba's wildest imaginings took on physical form as she became whatever he desired; yielding and submissive at one moment, ravis.h.i.+ng and devouring him the next. His nerve-endings went into overdrive. Sight, sound, touch, smell - every sensation was magnified, then moulded to marry with his deepest needs.
His weapon, already n.o.bly proportioned by nature, was expanded by his mind's eye into an awesome ivory shaft which he wielded with the thrust and vigour of a stallion and the stamina of a pack-mule. Time became distorted so that when the climax came the delicious jolt that filled every fibre of his being was transformed into a flood-tide of exquisite satisfaction on which his mind and body seemed to float for a joyous eternity.
In sum, the Consul-General thought he was enjoying himself a great deal more than he actually was.
Clearwater drew no pleasure from their encounters, but she was obliged to use her body in order to maintain her hold over his mind. The Consul-General was totally unaware that, whenever he lay with her, his eyes, his ears, his tongue, his fingers and his indefatigable dong were sending back signals that had been generated by his own lascivious brain.
The power Clearwater had used was the same power that Mr Snow had employed to cloud the brain of Hartmann, the commander of the first wagon-train to enter Plainfolk territory. But Mr Snow had no need to encounter the sand-burrower in person. As a Storm-Bringer he held the Seventh Ring of Power and this enabled him to make contact through the mental image of Hartmann that Cadillac had drawn from the seeing-stone.
Clearwater's abilities were formidable, but they were far below those of Mr Snow. The powers that flowed through her did so by the will of Talisman; they were not hers to command. That was why she knew her present actions had his blessing. She had been driven into the liaison with the Consul-General by the need to stay close to Cadillac.
Toh-s.h.i.+ba's estate was not far from the Heron Pool. If Cadillac had a change of heart and turned his mind back to her and to thoughts of escape, she would be in a position to help.
The Sky Voices had told her the wrath of the Iron Masters must fall on the sand-burrowers, not the Plainfolk. That was why her power - if it had to be used openly - must appear to be that of the Federation. She had been distressed by Cadillac's apparent indifference to their separation, but she quickly realised she had been fated to fall into the hands of the Consul-General. She had also seen enough to know that, as a Mute, she was beneath consideration and that, despite her well-formed body, her multi-coloured skin would condemn her to a harsh, degrading existence as a beast of burden, . staggering under the weight of baskets filled with stones and earth, hauling cartloads of excrement to the paddy fields, or yoked to an irrigation wheel.
Clearwater did not despise the condition to which her kinfolk had been reduced, she deplored it, and had shed many bitter tears since her arrival in Ne-Issan. But she could not improve their situation by sharing it, and she had no need to share it to understand what they were going through. Her task was equally arduous, and her humiliation at the hands of the Consul-General was no less than theirs despite the relative luxury with which she had been surrounded. If what Mr Snow had said was true, 'The Lost Ones' - the Mutes held by the Iron Masters - would be freed when Talisman entered the world. Mr Snow had also said that Cadillac and she were the sword and s.h.i.+eld of the Thrice-Gifted One. He had not explained what that meant, but he had stressed that the prophecy which spoke of his coming and of the victory of the Plainfolk over their oppressors would only be fulfilled if they followed the path that had been drawn for them.
Part of her task was the protection of Cadillac, mainly from himself, for dark forces were at work within him.
And so, when she had been briefly paraded before Nakane Toh-s.h.i.+ba, she had realised what was required of her. Their eyes met only for a few fleeting moments but it was all she needed. Her mind pierced his, uncovering his unfulfilled desires to possess the body of a long-dog.
She also sensed an element of l.u.s.tful curiosity in his cursory appraisal of her, but even the Consul-General had his limits. Mutes were beyond the pale. Despite this, she was able to plant in his mind the idea of placing her in solitary confinement with a supply of running water and the small bag of possessions she brought with her.
Toh-s.h.i.+ba obliged her by giving the necessary orders, but did so with the slightly hesitant air of a man who was not quite sure if he was doing the right thing.
'Each evening, when the guards grew lax and ceased their prowling and peeping through the barred spyhole in the door, Clearwater used her supply of pink leaves to remove the patterning on her body, starting with the parts hidden by her walking skins. On the fourth day of her confinement, the transformation was complete. The guard who brought her meagre breakfast was so startled he almost dropped the tray, After bringing his immediate superior to confirm the evidence of his own eyes, the news was quickly relayed up the chain of command and, within the hour, the Consul-General himself had entered her cell and ordered her to be stripped naked.
Clearwater offered no resistance, standing with downcast eyes as Toh-s.h.i.+ba slowly circled her, drinking in every detail of her body.
Finally, he had ordered one of the guards who was standing behind her to pull back the long dark hair that was shrouding her face. As the white-stripe drew it over her shoulders and twisted it roughly together on the nape of the neck, her chin came up and her eyes met the Consul-General's. Tohs.h.i.+ba had expected to see the cringing look of an inferior creature filled with fear or apprehension; what he saw were two lightning bolts of blue fire that skewered his soul like a fish on a spear.