Part 13 (1/2)
Then again, maybe this was Temptation, here to be resisted.
”Guide you around the market, sir!” A hatless urchin, his grimy face empty of pie, appeared from nowhere and attached himself to Yajiro's belt.
Yajiro gently pried himself free. ”I think I can find my way to the river from here.”
”Ah, but I know everybody, sir! Find you a special price!”
”I'm sure you would.” Yajiro smiled and walked past him to the quayside.
Boats were plentiful here at the meeting of the waters, and Yajiro found he could drive a hard bargain with the jerkin clad boatmen, even with Tsuru the urchin bobbing underfoot, interrupting at every turn. A fisherman's boat would have been his best deal, but pride and the money he had earned blacksmithing between temple visits pushed him to settle on a fur trader's boat with a covered storage area in the stern and sails which showed off their previous owner's skill with the needle. Whatever Yajiro's final destiny might be, for the moment it was enough to have left his parents' home riding a mule and wearing rags, and return by water in a tunic, breeches, and hat, like an honest trader. Perhaps it might soften the blow to their honor when they found out that their second son had failed to win acceptance with any of the teachers at the temples along the road.
Money changed hands, and the boat was his.
”Captain, sir! You'll need a crew for the voyage!” Tsuru again, making as if to step down into the boat. Yajiro grabbed him by his collar and placed him firmly on the quay, looking to see if there was any sign of the boy's mother.
His gaze lingered on a slender girl with long black hair who knelt behind a straw bale twenty paces away, holding a necklace of sh.e.l.ls in both hands. A middle born woman with a bag over one shoulder turned to examine it.
A short weasely man sidestepped quickly to keep himself out of the middle born's sight. n.o.body but Yajiro paid him any particular attention.
Brazen as a magpie, the man slipped his hand into the middle born's sack.
Yajiro wondered whether he should notice. Footpads and fleas were equally common in riverside markets, and usually found together. Yajiro could get a blade in his gut for his trouble, or he could step in successfully and the middle born could still be robbed three more times before she got home. Why did she not bring a servant to look out for her?
It must be a test. The G.o.ds were at last giving him the chance to show his worth. If he'd wanted to intervene, it wouldn't be a test, would it?
Tsuru tugged at his arm. Yajiro brushed him off. ”Stay here.”
The sun glinted off something golden, s.h.i.+ny and rectangular as the weasel drew his hand from the sack. Yajiro's hand closed around his wrist at the same moment.
The weasel was a head shorter than Yajiro, and thin, but he had a wiry strength. Finding himself snared, he cracked his arm like a whip and dropped down onto his haunches to try to break the hold. The middle born was still turning to see what was happening as the footpad's other fist landed in Yajiro's gut.
Long hours at the anvil gave rewards more tangible than mere wages. Yajiro gasped but was not winded. He tore the golden box from the thief's hand and pushed him away. The middle born took a step back, her eyes widening, as the weasel danced out of range and ran into the crowd.
The box was as long as his hand, wide as his clenched fist, and a little deeper than the length of his thumb. For all its gilt finis.h.i.+ng and iron comers it was not heavy. Yajiro glimpsed some characters engraved into the gold.
”Your property, Lady,” he said quickly, lest the woman should fear that she had merely exchanged a short thief for a taller one. ”My thanks at having been permitted to do you this service.”
She s.n.a.t.c.hed the box from his hands. ”Service?”
Yajiro was startled by her tone, but his attention was drawn away. An open s.p.a.ce was clearing around them, and he saw eyes lowered, faces averted, a nod here, a movement there.
”Permit me to suggest one more service that I might do you,” said Yajiro. ”There is a gang working here, and we have drawn attention. I have a boat.”
”You suggest I am afraid?” she said, drawing her cloak around herself.
”I suggest you may end the day with your throat cut and your treasures sold to buy wine. I do not have your courage; please forgive me if I withdraw.”
And, having done the minimum to ensure he would not be whipped for impertinence he ran for the boat.
”Captain, sir!” said the urchin. ”You will need a deck hand!”
”Stay where you are.” Yajiro flipped him a coin, case off the rope, and jumped into the boat. It rocked beneath him. ”Where is your mother?”
”She is lost, sir!”
He thrust the oars into the rowlocks. ”Go to the market shrine and ask for the priest. He will help you find her.”
The boat swayed again as the middle born stepped down into it and took a seat at the stern. She did not meet his eye, but gazed coolly out over the river.
Yajiro took a long pull at the oars. A ribbon of water appeared between the boat and the wharf. He pulled again.
”Farewell then, Captain!” shouted Tsuru. ”May we meet again soon!”
Yajiro did not spare the breath to reply.
Alert faces appeared at the water's edge. The weasel, hands on hips, watched them go, his face unreadable. Yajiro bent his back again, and the prow of his boat cut the river.
Four hundred feet from the wharf he felt a tugging at the bows as the boat began to turn into the gentle current. He s.h.i.+pped the oars and sucked breath deep into his lungs. Cool sweat began to dry on his forehead. His pa.s.senger still hadn't so much as glanced at him.
”Welcome aboard,” said Yajiro, and bowed. ”You honor me and my humble vessel.”
”You are a fool, and you should have kept yourself to yourself.”
This was grat.i.tude? ”But, you were being robbed...”
”Yes. And then, because of you, I was suddenly in fear for my life, and you yours. Was it clever of you, do you think? Do you?”
Yajiro busied himself with setting the mast and arranging the lines, all the while keeping an eye out for movement ash.o.r.e. There were no signs of pursuit. Maybe it was over.
She continued, ”Life is precious. A box may be replaced.”
”You are quite right,” said Yajiro stiffly. ”I should have turned my face away and not intruded into your affairs. Forgive me.”
He realized he was quivering with fear. He had rough housed with his brothers, but had never before risked his life. It was not glamorous to know he could have lost everything for the sake of a middle-born's trinket.
If he had died there, would it have been good sukuse, good karma, or bad?
The tests set by the G.o.ds were hard indeed.
She tapped the thwart impatiently. ”We should hurry. Is something the matter?”
”Excuse me,” said Yajiro ”The sail is in the s.p.a.ce beneath your seat.”
He threaded the halyard through the eyes on the sail's edge. It was a good, stout piece of cloth. Maybe he would sail on, all the way down the river to the sea, and keep going into the wasteland of the ocean until its immensity swallowed him up. Maybe the G.o.ds would think well of him then.
Yajiro had not planned to come this way at all. The quickest way home to Haruno lay along the South Road, where he might have hitched a ride on an ox cart, or at least found a companion to walk and build a fire with. But south was an unlucky direction for him this month, and he had faced a stark choice; travel even further from home, or take the East Road through the hills and then follow the river as it wound gently southwest towards Haruno.
As he hoisted the sail, he wondered if he had chosen the right course.
He mounted the flatboards in place on either side of the boat, so that it would not skip sideways across the water when he sailed against the wind. They changed places awkwardly so he could take the tiller.