Wolf's-own: Koan (30 page)
Authors: Carole Cummings
He shook his head. There was more here, and he was getting impatient waiting for Dakimo to get to what it was. “You're suggesting that the
banpair
are perhaps—?"
"I'm suggesting that they are not as immune to the pull of the Incendiary as they are to the magic of the gods. I'm suggesting that they wanted him for something we're missing, and now they might already have him."
"All right,” Goyo conceded. “But so what?” He shrugged when Dakimo snapped a barbed look at him. “The Incendiary has no magic. He is a Catalyst, nothing more. Perhaps the
banpair
are drawn to him—enough to seek him out and take him from Kamen—but what can they really do with him? I see no threat to any but the Incendiary himself."
Which would, perhaps, not be such a bad thing. If the
banpair
killed the Incendiary, maybe the gods would finally learn their lesson. Who knew? It might even save Goyo from having to do it himself.
"What they can do with him is a question I hope Goyo Snake's-own can answer. And perhaps keep to himself until we decide together what must be done with it.” Dakimo opened a hand. “You have practically led the hunt, Goyo."
"Right into a morass of nothing but more questions."
"Really?” The thin little smile at Dakimo's mouth told Goyo the question was at least part of the snare for which he'd been waiting since Dakimo barked the first question at him. Dakimo paced again, but more slowly this time. “Years, you have hunted these
banpair
, with no hint of even a place to start, and yet the Incendiary is awakened to his nature for mere days, and suddenly there is a trail."
...Oh.
Oh
.
No, no, and
hell
no. “The merest ghost of one."
Dakimo ceased his pacing and shrugged. “A thin suggestion of convergence, I'll grant you, but still more than we've had since it all began. This Incendiary, without even knowing it, moved Fate to overthrow the Adan and save the Jin. He pointed the way for his brother and Kamen to set the tortured souls of the Ancestors free. Now, he has been in Mitsu for perhaps a fortnight, and already, the Wheels turn around the
banpair
quandary."
"Oh, please.” Goyo rolled his eyes. “Even Hitsuke at his most worthy couldn't make—"
"What has Hitsuke to do with anything?” Dakimo snapped, then very visibly caught himself, like he was surprised he'd even spoken and regretted it immediately.
Goyo had no idea if it was a true slip, or if Dakimo had somehow wound the entire conversation to this particular setup for his own reasons. Dakimo knew Goyo's history with Hitsuke, after all, and it wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to use it against him. And yet Dakimo engaging in what amounted to a melodramatic stage play was as far-fetched as Dakimo saying something he hadn't foreseen and thought out very carefully first.
Dakimo was silent for a while, pensive, then a small, slow smile curved his mouth. “Yes,” he said, as though in agreement, but it seemed more to himself than to Goyo. It made Goyo narrow his eyes and pay very close attention. Diplomat with an impressive poker face or no, something had just dawned on Dakimo, and Goyo was going to have to be very careful not to let it trip him into something he didn't want to fall into.
"All right, then.” Distant. Still speaking to himself. Dakimo sat again on the cushion across from Goyo. “You, better than most of those left among us, knew Hitsuke."
Goyo narrowed his eyes, chin jutting out in unconscious defiance. “I did.” It probably came out more hostile than he should have allowed.
"You
saw
.” Dakimo stared for a long moment, waiting for reaction; when Goyo didn't give him one, he sighed. “You suppose there is no threat to any but the Incendiary, and perhaps you're right. I hope you're right. But think back to those last days of Hitsuke. The worlds he changed at Raven's bidding. Think of the worlds he
might
have changed, had he been allowed to break from the influence of his god, as he'd intended."
"You mean when he allowed his conscience to outshout his head,” Goyo muttered. The poor, recklessly brave fool.
Conscience
. What good had one of those useless things ever done anyone?
Dakimo gave Goyo a small, sympathetic smile. “As you will, then.” His hand reached out, settled on Goyo's arm again, as though in comfort. “He obeyed his god and took up the side of the
Temshiel
against the Jin.” He paused, grip tightening and voice softening. “Until he met a young maijin, newly turned and too-brief champion to the Jin. A maijin whose ideals were as fresh as a sea breeze to such an old, jaded soul."
Goyo flinched. Not a whisper of blame had ever come to him from any direction when Hitsuke fell, except from himself, and that had never been so... tenderly put. So why was this deflected allusion tempered by gentle exoneration stinging him like fire?
"I never meant—"
"None of us ever do,” Dakimo said kindly. “Balance will be found. It is, after all, what we're for.” He looked genuinely saddened. “Hitsuke found a conscience and then the strength to defy his god and follow Fate's will, as was his nature. So many of us lose our conscience when we lose our mortality."
It wasn't the first time Dakimo had expressed regret over his part in the fate of the Jin. It wasn't the first time Goyo had been privy to sideways confessions of regret from other
Temshiel
—even one of Raven's once. He'd never heard any immortal defend unequivocally the Binding War or what came of it. Defense was almost always along the lines of,
I didn't like it, but I did my duty by the gods
. And Goyo certainly couldn't blame them—he would have done the same, if Fate had placed him on the other side of the battle lines. Even now, with a century of distance, Goyo knew very well that he would not have had the brass to do as Hitsuke had done, even if Goyo's admiration for it had only grown since then.
Except Hitsuke had been punished, destroyed, for daring to change his mind, aiming his will in a direction other than that of his god's wishes, when it had only been his nature to do so. He'd been
made
for it, damn it, it wasn't fair.
"This Incendiary,” Dakimo went on, “took up where Hitsuke left off. And suffered greatly for it. As I understand it, he suffers still. If he is mad, it is because putting right the errors of the gods has made him so.” He smiled when Goyo blinked at the manifest blasphemy, and patted at Goyo's arm before pulling his hand away. “And now, consider for a moment the possibilities of a half-mad Incendiary under the influence of
banpair
who have already proven too dangerous, and the motives of whom we
still
can only guess.” He hesitated, as though unsure. “Incendiary are older than The Six,” he said slowly. “Incendiary walked the world when it was ancient Daichi and ruled by The One. Consider, Snake's-own, what all of these faint connections might mean in
this
world, where a newly woken Incendiary walks without the protections of any of the gods."
Goyo did. And could have killed Dakimo where he sat for making him do it with the specter of Hitsuke looking over his shoulder. Which was, of course, what Dakimo had intended.
Was that all it took to manipulate Goyo so absolutely? Even finally seeing the gentle trap with all its teeth, was he going to walk right into it this easily?
"You want me to take over the hunt. You want me to look for the
banpair
by looking for the Incendiary. You want
me
to find the Incendiary."
Dakimo looked away. “Of the two, only the Incendiary has been found once. And you, after all, know too well what it is you seek."
Was Goyo hearing this correctly? Was Dakimo of Wolf handing over the Incendiary—
Kamen's
charge—to one of Snake's-own?
Not at all the snare Goyo had been expecting, but a pretty one, nonetheless. He looked at the teeth, the trick, and saw them all plainly, but none of them fit with what he knew of Dakimo. Wily, certainly, and not entirely to be trusted, because no immortal was. But Dakimo wasn't the sort to set up a maijin of a rival god simply because he could.
Kamen's absence, it seemed, had shaken those of Wolf more profoundly than Goyo thought reasonable. And the loss of the Incendiary seemed catastrophic to them in a way Goyo couldn't fathom, much more than the mere inconvenience and annoyance he'd assumed. Catastrophic enough for Dakimo, of all people, to stoop to invoking Hitsuke to get Goyo to help get the Incendiary back.
Goyo had to wonder why.
"And if I find him?” Goyo said slowly. “If my god commands that I rid the world of him?"
"Then....” Dakimo paused and looked down at his hands, fisting in obvious anger, though Goyo didn't think it was for him. “If I know of it, if I see it, I will likely have no choice but to fight you for him. As will all of Wolf's-own. My god wishes the Incendiary saved."
"There is more than one way to save a soul,” Goyo said mildly.
Dakimo laughed this time, a harsh bark that recoiled off the walls of the small room. He looked straight at Goyo and shrugged with a bitter smile.
"We shall see."
Joori really wished people would stop staring at him. It was... well, it was rude, and disconcerting and really bloody annoying, to start. Apparently, they didn't get a lot of Jin in Mitsu. There were people of every color wandering about here, he really shouldn't stand out that much, but clearly the different shape of his eyes—or whatever it was about him that was making them gape, because that Naro-yi had a bit of a Jin look to him, and even more of a tilt to his eyes—was too much for these people. Morin, with his fair hair and the gold tones to his skin, was more or less overlooked, but Joori had gotten a little tired of meeting open stares with purposefully bored looks of his own. Now he just tried not to notice. You'd think the rain would've hampered the gawking, but no.
At least it boded well for finding Jacin; he'd stand out here as much as Joori did. Probably more.
"Huh,” Morin said, low and close to Joori's ear as they followed after the others, “I don't think I've ever heard that many filthy words in one sentence without a breath between them."
If things had been a little different, Joori would have snorted. But things were rather tense, and laughing was, at the moment, something other people could do. He merely nodded, hoping it was enough acknowledgement to keep Morin from pushing, but not enough to encourage further commentary. There was too much ramming around in Joori's head right now, too many things making his chest tight and his eyes burn, and he just didn't have the concentration to keep himself in check if Morin decided there was a good poking in Joori's immediate future.
Everything was taking too damned long. It had taken forever to get things squared at the inn, and then another eternity for Naro-yi to convince the remaining Patrol that no, Fen Jacin's family did not need to be brought to the central command post—which “just happened” to be at the Statehouse—for questioning. It had been fucking
hours
since Jacin had taken off. Anything could have happened by now.
Probably why Samin was so pissed. He didn't seem to be having any luck with getting that Naro-yi to either help them start looking or leave them alone so they could do it themselves.
"But I said I would be taking you to your new home,” Naro-yi had insisted, “I gave my word,” like it was the be-all-end-all, but the man was maijin—what did the “word” of any of these people mean?
"Joori,” Morin said, still low, his voice even and, if Joori didn't know better, almost kind. “Stop it."
Joori snapped a look over at his brother, only just caught a snarl before it took hold, and opened his mouth—
Morin cut him off. “He's going to need you to keep it together. We can't have the both of you losing your shit, all right?"
Huh. Joori was almost... touched. “You're talking like you think we'll even find him.” Like they all weren't halfway dreading that maybe Jacin was already—
Joori clenched his teeth and pushed that one firmly away.
"Of course we will,” Morin said, somewhat miffed-seeming, like he really did believe it and was offended that Joori perhaps didn't. “We've got Samin. We've got Shig. We've got this maijin person who's—"
"Yeah, and you can't find Jacin with magic,” Joori barked, glad that it was pouring and the streets were crowded, and the only reaction he got from the others was an appraising look from Samin over his shoulder. Joori lowered his voice. “Maybe....” All the gods save him, was he really going to say this? “Maybe if Malick were here...."
"Oh,
now
you're a Malick admirer?"
"
No
, I'm not an
admirer
.” Bloody hell, the very idea. “I just... I mean, if he were here, he'd be...
doing
."
Because maybe Joori thought Malick didn't know what the hell he was about half the time, and couldn't get out of his own way the other half, that he got by on bravado and arrogance and what passed for charm, but he did seem to get what he went after a little too often. And Joori knew that if Malick were here right now, he wouldn't be calmly ambling off to a new house because some
Temshiel
they didn't know told them to and some maijin they also didn't know insisted. Which wasn't at all fair to Samin. Samin had to have his reasons for complying—with a decided lack of good grace, but still complying. Joori just wished he knew what those reasons were, and why they called for a delay like this, when they
should
all be....
Damn it. He had no idea what they should all be doing. For all he knew, walking to Malick's new house would be just as effective as an actual all-out hunt. Because, honestly—did Joori
really
think any of them could find Jacin, if Jacin didn't want to be found? And the look in Jacin's eyes just before he'd taken off had been.... Well, again, Joori didn't know, but he didn't think it boded well for finding Jacin, and certainly not for finding him unharmed.
According to that Imara, he'd already been bleeding. Had put his hand right through the damned glass on the inn's door. And these people could smell it, like fucking bloodhounds, but they'd lost it, and what did that—?