Wolf's-own: Koan (32 page)

Naro-yi cleared his throat. “I can arrange some household assistance, should you wish. A boy to come and cook and do light cleaning.” He handed Samin a piece of paper. “Shinji. He can begin tomorrow at breakfast, should you wish, though I imagine you'll have other more pressing matters to concern you.” He paused to quirk a knowing smile at Shig, but she just wasn't in the mood to smile back. Naro-yi turned back to Samin. “He is very discreet and receptive to a steadier position, should you like to assign him more household duties, but that price"—he pointed to the paper in Samin's hand—"was negotiated for providing three meals and tea. He can start when you like.” He handed over another piece of paper. “Kamen's accounts at the moneyhouse have already been delegated to you.” He smiled a little when Samin's eyes shot wide and he nearly choked as he got a look at whatever was on that paper. They all knew Malick was rich, but it appeared Samin had just found out
how
rich. “Disbursements are at your discretion. Should you—"

"When will Malick be back?” Joori cut in, his tone not quite snarky, but definitely impatient.

In this case, Shig couldn't blame him. These people just didn't seem to live in the same reality mortals did, where moments counted and could slip away too quickly if you didn't grab hold. She sort of understood it, but just because they had all the time in the world didn't mean that every second didn't count.

Always the way of it with mortals, little niijun. Running so fast to get nowhere.

Shig rolled her eyes and waited for the not-quite-Yori in her head to fill in a wry punch line.

Except Yori didn't, because she was suddenly just
there
, right in front of Shig, staring at her with eyes just as green as her own. And no one noticed.

Shig started, squeaked, “Hey,” and shot a wide-eyed glance about, caught Samin's eye, but when Samin just raised his eyebrows and didn't go white and start swearing at the sight of Yori, Shig shut her mouth and looked away. “Sorry, never mind.” She waited until Samin turned back to Naro-yi then cautiously raised her eyes, stared at Yori, hard, until Yori just gave her a smile then faded away again.

Nothing at all flittered through Shig's head but a rather useless
huh
.

Maybe she really was as crazy as Fen.

"It is impossible to say,” Naro-yi answered Joori, holding up his hand when Joori opened his mouth. “But if I know Kamen, it will be much sooner than anyone expects. He has never... appreciated the complexity of the spirit world. He prefers blood and bone."

He said it like an indulgent uncle, shaking his head with a
it's Kamen, what are you going to do?
smile that Shig
almost
trusted, but only almost. This benevolent-seeming maijin might very well want nothing but to protect and please every one of them, but Umeia had taught Shig that good intentions from an immortal did not necessarily mean the mortals around them would be walking away with smiles on their faces.

And where has your smile gone, little niijun?

Shig frowned with a shudder, that uneasy something even more uneasy now and still gnawing at her edges, an empty space waiting for her to fill it.

Yori used to be her smile. Yori used to be a lot of things. Laughter through tears, sometimes, or maybe just a bit of quiet. A lifeline of corporeal
hereness
in a sea of covetous voices. Maybe Shig was just seeing what she wanted to see, and making a ghost of Yori for her own greedy comfort.

"Well, can't you at least give us some idea?” Morin asked Naro-yi, taking the fishbowl from Samin and setting it atop the dining table.

Shig couldn't make herself pay attention just now, not the way she should be doing. That little niggle had grown into a full-blown itch, and it was all she could do not to start juddering and twitching, just like....

Oh. Damn.

Fen thought Shig had no idea what went on inside his head, and maybe she didn't know the extent of his particular sort of noise, but she had a pretty good idea. It was just that the noise had never reached the same level for Shig as it did for Fen, and she'd always had Yori to interpret when she had trouble getting her own thoughts through it. She kind of selfishly wished it really was Yori haunting her.

And isn't treachery a pretty thing, handing you the shiny bauble you think you covet, instead of the brilliant gem it knows you need?

Shig nearly sighed annoyance. Because if she was going to talk to herself in spirit voices, she could at least—

Are you really talking to yourself?
Yori asked, and she was there again, just for a second, standing in front of Shig with a smirky look to her that was too much like Yori.
Or are you afraid that you're not?
She faded out then right back in again.
You're smarter than all of them, you always have been. Don't believe everything they tell you.
She held out a hand.
I miss you. Why don't you just come with me, love? They won't stop you. Don't you want to be together again?

Oh.
Oh
. Well, shit.

Shig went very, very still. She shut her eyes tight then blinked them back open again, guiltily relieved when Yori was gone.

That wasn't Yori.
Her own voice, thank all the gods, and thank them all even harder, because Shig had no doubt in her mind that she could tell the difference.

Damn
it. She needed to talk to Samin. She needed to talk to Samin really soon.

"... weeks, perhaps,” Naro-yi was telling the others. “No more than that, I'll wager."

Only half-listening, but Shig met the sharp glance Samin snapped at her with a grim set of her mouth and a lift of her chin. She didn't even have to look at the Fen brothers to know they were in agreement. No way were they all just going to sit here and wait for bloody
weeks
. Especially not if what had just occurred to her turned out to be anything close to provable logic and not mere hopeful conjecture. Or not so hopeful. Crap.

She
really
needed to talk to Samin.

"But I expect,” Naro-yi put in before Joori had even finished his angry, “
Weeks
?” and taken a somewhat panicked step forward; Samin stopped him with a firm hand to his arm. “I expect,” Naro-yi continued smoothly, “that you will not be sitting idle while you wait.” He paused, making sure he had everyone's attention. His smile this time was somewhat sly. “Owl and Wolf have always enjoyed an accord. I have not been instructed to assist you. But nor have I been instructed not to."

There was a pause while everyone turned to look at Samin, who only stared back for a moment before he rolled his eyes. “Right,” he said, his tone resigned, though Shig didn't think it was because he wasn't eager to do what needed to be done—he just preferred to follow orders rather than give them. He caught Morin's eye, and... hesitated. Shig had no idea what Samin saw in Morin's wide gaze, but whatever it was, it set Samin's shoulders straighter and infused his tone with command, rather than resignation. “Then we could do with—"

"I have, however,” Naro-yi overrode him, “been asked to keep you all safe.” Again, his sharp blue gaze made the rounds, peering at each one of them steadily before moving back to hold Samin's. “Perhaps you'd like to tell me how I might best do so?"

Samin's eyes narrowed, but with alertness, rather than hostility. “Perhaps you should first tell me what your definition of ‘safe’ is."

"Ha!” Naro-yi grinned this time, a surprisingly young-looking thing. “In this case,” he answered readily, “I should think ‘alive’ will do."

"Then in that case,” Samin returned, mien lightening, “
I
should think the best way to honor your promise would be to follow along and stay out of the way.” He looked at Joori and Morin. “Go pick a room and stow your things. We'll be heading out shortly.” He set a big hand to Shig's elbow and tugged. “C'mon, lovie,” he said, low and gruff in Shig's ear, “let's see what's got you dancing about like someone put spiders in your shoes."

Despite that unsettling mental image, a weird bit of relief washed through Shig as she let Samin lead her out through a heavy screen the size of an actual wall beyond the little dining area that turned into a kitchen on the other side of yet another screen they passed along the way.

People didn't look at Samin and think “observant,” but you only had to be around him for a little while—and be on the receiving end of it once or twice—to know he saw pretty much everything. He didn't always interpret what he saw exactly right, but he was at least within throwing distance of the mark more times than not. Shig wasn't surprised he'd twigged to her sudden almost-revelation at nearly the same time she did. She had to suppose Naro-yi would be listening in, despite Samin's attempt to make sure no one did, but there was only so much you could do about magical people who couldn't mind their own business.

Then again, Shig thought with a bit of a snort, she'd been one of those once.

The courtyard into which they emerged spoke more to the wealth inherent to the place than the house itself did, and Shig really had to wonder who Malick was trying to impress. Fen probably wouldn't even notice the fountain—an actual working bleeding
fountain
, complete with colorful, cavorting sakou splashing about just beneath the rippling surface of the water. Or the gravel garden with its decorative-but-functional rakes. Or even the ridiculously lush and luxuriant greenery that, even for the lateness of the season and the decided chill that called to the winter not long in coming, still gave one a sense of verdant tranquility.

It hadn't stopped raining, but it had let up some, more of a chill shower now than a downpour, the scent of it mixing with the soft loam of the yard and overwhelmed by fat little pines and the last crumbling blooms of the potted sage, which was just so fitting Shig could've pinched Malick's cheeks. Bloody hell, there was even a flat-roofed pagoda covered in kuuh vines. Shig almost chuckled as she let herself be led beneath it and out of most of the rain. She was still goggling at it all when Samin's fingers snapped in front of her nose.

"You with me, there, lovie?"

Shig blinked, met Samin's amused gaze with a somewhat scattered one of her own, and had to grin. “Sorry. I was just....” She waved her hand around then shook her head to get it where it should be. “I've been hearing Yori."

By the abrupt stillness and the slight paling of Samin's face, Shig supposed she could have perhaps come up with a better way to say that.

"No, that's not what I mean,” she hastened to clarify. “Not in a real way.” It didn't improve Samin's expression. Damn it, Yori used to interpret this sort of thing for her. Yori would've made Samin understand. “See, it was kind of Yori's voice, but it wasn't
really
Yori's voice. I could tell.” Samin didn't look terribly encouraged by that. “I wasn't sure what... I mean, it's been kind of hard to figure out how I think. How
I
think, you know?” No, it looked like Samin didn't know. “So, I wasn't sure if it was just me missing her,” Shig pushed on, “or if someone was playing a trick. Except the spirits don't do things like that—they can't. Most of them forget who
they
used to be, let alone imitating someone else, and the imitation wasn't really that good. Well, I guess it kinda was, it might have fooled someone else, but it just felt really... not-Yori to me. And I'm not even supposed to hear the spirits anymore, anyway, so I couldn't tell if it was just me being... well, me."

Samin was silent for quite a while, just staring, expressionless, before he seemed to understand that Shig was waiting for a response. “Uh,” was all he said.

Shig took it for encouragement. “But I think now it wasn't just me being me, and I know bloody well it was never Yori, and now it's gotten worse—she was just standing right in front of me, right there, and no one else could see her, just like Fen last night."

Samin was still staring, but his eyes had narrowed. Shig didn't
think
it was in a,
oh hell, not another one
way, but Samin was pretty good at keeping a person guessing about what was going on in his head when he needed to. Apparently, right now he thought he needed to.

"All right,” he finally said, gruff voice even, “so you've been... hearing Yori talk to you, and now you've seen her. But it wasn't really Yori."

Shig grinned. She just loved it when someone
got
it
. “Right."

"I'm not sure—” Samin cut off whatever he was going to say and scratched his head, the confusion obvious now. “Shig. Love. I know you miss her, but I don't think—"

"No, no.” All right, so maybe he didn't quite
get it
yet. “It's not about that. I mean, I do, of course. Miss Yori, I mean. But that's not what I'm saying."

Shig paused, trying to arrange her thoughts like a normal person, but it was usually futile.

"I don't think Yori's haunting me,” she said, because it was important in several ways that Samin understood this. Samin had loved Yori, too, and it would be awful for him to think of her being trapped in the periphery of their lives, scrabbling along with the others for seeds and never being sated. Shig didn't want to see Samin's mourning for her sister reduced to pity. Plus, if he kept thinking like that, Shig would never get him to understand what she
was
actually saying. “I think someone else is, and they're only pretending to be Yori."

It didn't look like that had set Samin's mind at ease.

Shig laid a hand to his arm. “Stop thinking for just a few seconds and listen. All right?” She waited until Samin nodded slowly. “It isn't Yori. She went to Wolf. She might even be on her way to being reborn already, for all I know."

She paused a moment so she could pretend that didn't make her selfishly sad. Not that Yori was perhaps right this moment safe inside some stranger's womb—some stranger who would be a mother to her this time, who wouldn't sell her, and wouldn't hand her a sister for whom she'd have to whore herself to keep them both alive—the sadness came with the knowledge that, without the spirits, Shig would never know. Shig would like to know. Shig would like to see, to watch, to come across a sunny little child “by accident” one day, just to see if the smile was the same. Maybe come across that same child, years later, to see if this life had been better than the last one.