Wolf's-own: Koan (29 page)

Goyo shut his eyes and rubbed at his brow. “You have no idea where Kamen stashed the Incendiary, have you?"

The abrupt scowl that darkened Dakimo's face rather answered the question. “We know where he was,” Dakimo answered, seeming to twig to the inanity of it before it was completely out of his mouth, and his scowl deepened. He threw out his hands. “Kamen and his bloody-minded possessiveness. And now it looks as though....” He shook his head, took a deep, long breath, and settled himself on the cushion opposite Goyo. “Goyo,” he said calmly, “we have need of your... discretion. And your assistance."

"Ah?” If Goyo wasn't alert two seconds ago, he certainly was now. “'We’ as in ‘Emika and Tambalon', or ‘we’ as in ‘Wolf's-own'?"

"Both,” Dakimo said evenly. “In this, at least, it's one and the same. Perhaps more far-reaching than that, I don't know yet.” He held out a hand when Goyo raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I think, Snake's-own, that you will understand that this is not a matter over which to play games or employ politics. If I'm right, more is at stake here than simply which god gets the Incendiary in the end,
if
he even lives to choose."

"'Which god,'” Goyo scoffed. “You say that like I don't know too well that Kamen is Wolf's pet. If there is indeed to be a
choice
, Wolf's-own, we both know too well which way Kamen has been influencing ‘his’ Incendiary. You must think me rather dim to not see exactly why Kamen kept his presence here so bloody secret."

"Secret even from his own, Goyo. And his purpose was a secret from even the Incendiary, if Imara has assessed the situation correctly."

Goyo took another long sip from his tea, taking that in. “Go on,” he said after a moment.

Dakimo hesitated, as though trying to decide where to start, then nodded slowly. “We have reason to believe that Kamen did finally reveal the Incendiary's nature to him. Perhaps yesterday, perhaps days ago, but no more than days. The point is that shortly after learning what he is,
banpair
attacked and took away the Incendiary's protection. And shortly after Imara arrived to assume Kamen's responsibilities, the Incendiary....” He trailed off, shaking his head, the look on his face one of deep distress and... it looked like embarrassment.

It took a great effort on Goyo's part not to laugh outright. “Imara lost the Incendiary."

No wonder she'd been ready to chew nails and spit tacks. Damn, Goyo wished he'd arrived here fifteen minutes earlier. He'd have given a lot to have seen Imara very politely and calmly taken apart by Dakimo.

So much for Goyo's plans, such as they'd been.

"The Incendiary was... upset,” Dakimo said wearily. “From what I'm gathering, the Incendiary is always upset. Which would be beside the point, if things were not where they now stand.” He looked straight at Goyo. “If Kamen's mortal companions are to be believed, the attack last night was targeted and deliberate. The
banpair
wanted Kamen out of the way. They wanted the Incendiary."

"They.... Wait, what?” All right, that was unexpected. “Why?"

"Why would anyone? Why would Snake?"

Goyo hesitated, trying to decide how much to say, but Dakimo would have already guessed or seen anything Goyo knew, anyway. “I doubt he would,” he answered honestly. “If I were to come across the Incendiary, I would venture that my orders would be to assess and then destroy.” He didn't know how he felt about that yet. He supposed he'd find out if and when it happened.

"If it were not so precarious right now, I might take that wager,” said Dakimo. He shook his head. “But you have not been ordered so, as yet?"

Goyo hesitated before he answered, “No,” feeling for the trap—because he hadn't been expecting one; this was Dakimo—but not yet able to see it.

"Good.” Dakimo nodded. “Then we are not yet placed in opposition.” He set a hand to Goyo's arm, seemingly unfazed when Goyo merely looked at it with an arched eyebrow and then back at Dakimo. “You have been leading the hunt for quite a long time.” He tightened his grip on Goyo's arm when Goyo's mouth set tight. “I mean no insult. It was not a critique, merely an observation."

Goyo should hope so. It wasn't exactly easy, trying to track down beings who couldn't be found with magic, and who struck out of the blue and without pattern.

"But you have become familiar with the little predictability that exists,” Dakimo went on. “You have narrowed the parameters."

"If you can call it that,” Goyo admitted. “There is no particular sort—the ages all vary, the backgrounds, the color of their skin.” Goyo's teeth clenched—he couldn't help it. It was bloody frustrating, and getting somewhat boring. Until a few days ago, he'd been considering leaving Tambalon and all its problems to someone else. “The only clue I've had thus far has been the disappearance of Zhiri Aika."

"Zhiri....” Dakimo's gaze went distant for a moment then cleared. “Zhiri. Yes, I remember now. She was the fifth to go missing from Hin's district. Zhiri-seyh has written twice to ask the governor for news of the hunt for his daughter. Young Zhiri Aika was no more than a girl, as I recall.” He waited for Goyo to nod before he frowned. “But that was months ago."

"It was. Except then her brother disappeared last night."

The frown deepened as Dakimo tilted his head. “I admit it's coincidental, but I'm not seeing the clue."

"Well, I'm not so sure it is one. It's more a feeling.” Goyo waved his hand about. “I didn't see it until the sister and brother. But the Zhiri boy had been making a nuisance of himself. They'd apparently been very close. He was going on about how his sister had been haunting the temples in the weeks before she disappeared. Seeking direction from the gods, it seems. And Rihansei told me that one of his monks had been counseling her, as well. Seems she had traces of old magic, and could not decide between that and the call of the gods."

Goyo swirled his tea. “Do you remember the mother who'd gone missing from the sickhouse tower two years ago?"

"Yes, of course.” Dakimo looked like he was waving it off as old news, but then he paused, eyebrows beetling over a sharp, abruptly alert regard. “And then her child disappeared from her bed the night after."

"Right.” Goyo nodded. “And now the Zhiri children have gone missing, too, one right after the other. And the father swore he heard the boy talking to his sister the night before, but when the father had a look, there was no one in the room with the boy. The father said he was going to hire a mage for a sage cleansing, because he was afraid the daughter was dead and her body left to rot. He was afraid her spirit had been trapped and was haunting the son. The son argued against it."

"And yet you'd seen nothing when you looked for her spirit,” Dakimo said, pensive.

Again, it didn't seem like a criticism, merely an observation, so Goyo didn't take offense.

He shook his head. “Nor the boy's. But here's the interesting thing—the boy's room had been cleaned, his personal possessions disposed of. As though he was... setting things in order.” Goyo leaned forward, a touch of excitement curling in his gut at the interest in Dakimo's eyes. “As though he was preparing.” Goyo hesitated, mostly because it sounded ridiculous to him even as he thought it, and saying it out loud.... He cleared his throat. “The boy practiced the old arts. The father says he had the seed in him too. He'd only just had his first tattoo a week before the sister disappeared."

Dakimo sat still for quite a while, thinking. “And his spirit?"

"Just as gone as the rest of them."

"And do we know how many—if any—of the other victims were the same?"

"You'll recall that the woman who disappeared from the sickhouse those years ago was rather heavily tattooed.” Goyo opened a hand. “It isn't something any would volunteer—especially not to a servant of one of The Six. And we didn't know until now that it was a question we should perhaps be asking. I've already sent a few out to the families of previous victims to put the question to them. I don't know what I expect them to find or what I'll do with the information they gather, but it seemed prudent.

"It does seem rather odd, though, now that it's been suggested, that none of those found dead were thus adorned. All those scores of dead and not one of them of the old magic? It's too much coincidence, especially considering that these
banpair
were once of the old magic themselves.” Goyo could only shrug when Dakimo nodded absently. “I plan to call on Rihansei, but you know how he is. Old magic is a dying art, and he is as protective of it as—” Goyo cut himself off. He'd almost said
as protective of it as you are of the governor
, but he didn't think Dakimo was in the proper frame of mind for a good poking. “The law says he doesn't have to talk to me,” he said instead. “I'm hoping he will."

"Old magic. Huh.” Dakimo sat back as though he'd somehow deflated. “Rihansei.” He rubbed at his mouth, agitated. “
Damn
it."

"If it means anything,” Goyo told him kindly, “if old magic is a factor, I don't think it's coming from Rihansei. He would not—"

"That is not as comforting as I'm sure you mean it to be,” Dakimo cut in. “If old magic is a factor and it's
not
coming from Rihansei....” He shook his head. “At least we know what we're dealing with in Rihansei and his monks. This....” He didn't finish, just rubbed at his forehead as though he was trying to keep his brain from bashing through it.

Goyo could only shrug. “It's another place to look,” he offered. “I'll go to Rihansei and ask him some more about the Zhiri children. Even if he tells me nothing, that in itself will tell me something."

"Mm,” Dakimo grunted, scowling. “And this Zhiri boy disappeared when?"

"Hours before Kamen was attacked."

"And I'm only hearing about it
now
?"

Goyo would have answered sharply but for the weariness and sincere anxiety in Dakimo's expression. “You didn't exactly give me a chance,” he replied quietly, calmly. “And you seemed more interested in gossip about Kamen and his Incendiary."

Dakimo rubbed at his temples this time. “You're right,” he said, sighing like it was all he could do not to whack his head against the wall a few times. “My apologies, Snake's-own. I find myself lately... stretched.” He smiled a little when Goyo waved it off, but it was strained and fell immediately, sliding into something careful and attentive. “You realize what all of this is possibly suggesting, yes?"

"That perhaps those who have disappeared have not necessarily done so unwillingly? That perhaps circumstances are even more bizarre than we'd thought?” Goyo snorted without humor. “Of course I realize."

"And can you now take it a step further and see how, perhaps, the matter of the Incendiary and the matter of the
banpair
are not necessarily without their... commonalities?"

Goyo stared at Dakimo, utterly at a loss. He failed to see even a faint association, and that was only if he discarded reason entirely. He covered the pause and his inability to follow Dakimo's obscure logic by sipping some more of his tea.

"I suppose there's the attraction to deep emotion,” Goyo ventured carefully. He shrugged, still at a loss. “One in mourning, like the Zhiri boy, would have plenty of interest to
banpair
, though if that's the case, we're more likely to find him dead eventually. Still, it's there—a faint connection, I suppose. And you said the Incendiary was always ‘upset'."

Though, Goyo had no idea if
banpair
could even detect an Incendiary. Certainly maijin couldn't, and
banpair
were once maijin. And anyway, what would make the Incendiary's emotions so attractive to
banpair
that they'd attack a
Temshiel
to get to him?

Dakimo
hmphed
. “The Incendiary has apparently been conversing with the ghost of his sister.” He hesitated, then peered at Goyo sharply. “And Asai."

Goyo didn't allow a reaction. Mostly because he didn't know what kind to have yet. “And?"

"And.” Dakimo puffed out something like an angry laugh. “And Kamen checked. Imara checked. There are no ghosts."

Ah. Goyo saw where this part was going, at least. There had been rumors, after all, and the Incendiary had once been Untouchable. Goyo's stomach didn't quite drop, but its moorings felt a little wobbly. “He's mad, then."

"If not mad, then certainly... precarious.” Dakimo stood abruptly and started to pace. “Bad enough, but after speaking with Kamen only days ago, I'm convinced that his dalliance with the Incendiary is more than dalliance.” He stopped his pacing and turned to Goyo. “We are talking about a once-Untouchable already unbalanced, who, as Kamen put it, has lost half of his family because of the events in Ada. And now he's lost Kamen. And
banpair
, who can not only slip the sight of the gods but can apparently do the same for mortals—whether by their wish or not—have sent Kamen to spirit, leaving the Incendiary unprotected."

"And now the Incendiary is missing."

"And with Kamen's—” Dakimo cut himself off, though he was too good of a politician for Goyo to know if it was merely because he misspoke, or if there was something he didn't want Goyo to know. Likely the latter. Dakimo might be one of the more frank and trustworthy of the
Temshiel
, and his sense of honor was quite a lot more rigid than any other immortal Goyo had ever come across, but he was old and sharp; just because he generally spoke the truth didn't always mean he was being entirely honest.

"Magic is useless,” Dakimo went on. “We can't find him with it, we can't read his thoughts, we can't even set the spirits on him, because they can't find him, either. And foresight—feh. Next to useless.” He paused with a twist of his mouth. “Though, Xari has seen more thus far than I have.” Brooding. Not quite bitter, but somewhat edged. “Perhaps I should put her to this, as well."

Another of Wolf's. And an initiate at that. Goyo had to wonder if the closing of ranks he was seeing was really there. Though, if that were the case, why was Dakimo venting to Goyo? He couldn't deny that Dakimo seemed sincerely distressed—not that he didn't have reason—and Goyo would wager Dakimo had not given a servant of any of the other gods as much information as he'd just given Goyo. Goyo simply hadn't figured out the angle yet.