“Have you now? Well I’m happy to say stories are as close as I’ve ever gotten to the things meself. I hear they stink something fierce.”
Turbo glided to the left, and the gates to town appeared before them—heavy wooden panels suspended between two thick pillars of stacked brick. Atop one of the pillars sat a man wearing what looked like a straw hat. Kee Keema waved, and the man waved back and shouted something in a loud voice to someone behind the gates.
Turbo approached the gate slowly, stopping a good distance before them. Just then, the gates creaked into motion, opening outward. Turbo was wise. He stopped just far enough away that the gates wouldn’t hit them when they opened.
“Kee Keema of Sakawa,” Kee Keema announced, pulling something that looked like a card with a long string attached from the folds of his kilt. He waved it at the man atop the pillar. “I carry mai and mamas to Posura, by request of the Mercaid Merchants of Bog. Here’s my writ.”
A man strode purposefully out from inside the gate and began inspecting their cargo. His clothes resembled a single burlap sack with a hole cut in it for the head. His pants were short, looking like Wataru’s silk pants, but cut off just below the knee. He walked swiftly on woven sandals.
“You may pass.”
Turbo walked into town. Once through the gates, Wataru saw many houses like log cabins. As he looked around, Kee Keema hunched toward him and whispered in his ear. “Wataru, I forgot to tell you something very important. Listen up.”
Wataru leaned in closer.
“Remember when I first asked if you were a refugee from the north?”
Wataru nodded.
“Now everyone thought the ankha of the Northern Empire had peace of sorts until the refugees started arriving. Most of them risked their lives in handmade sailships to cross the sea, and as many that made it, many more probably died along the way. But some of them, they came across in merchant ships, and brought with them a great deal of gold.”
Something about that sounds familiar…
“To hear them tell it, there was fighting among the ankha of the north. Those refugees, they brought with them news, which was good, but they also brought their religion—the faith of the Old God. And it spread.”
In addition to being a rejection of the Goddess, the faith in the Old God had one more characteristic, Kee Keema explained. “Those who believe in the Old God think that Travelers like you are, well, evil.”
The followers of the Old God had a name for the Travelers who came through the Porta Nectere: “zaza-aku.”
“In an old ankhan tongue, it means ‘false gods,’ or ‘those who pretend to be gods,’ see?”
To deceive the Old God, the story went, the Goddess sought to remake herself in his image. Yet to perfect the form, she needed to practice, which she did by making false ankha—trial subjects, in other words. When she was done with them, the Goddess discarded them into the Abyss of Chaos at the edge of the land. But one of them lived, and passed from Vision into the other world—Wataru’s world.
“They say that the Travelers to Vision are the descendants of that one false ankha.” Kee Keema whispered, his teeth gnashing. “Don’t seem fair to me. Nobody ever talked such nonsense when I was a wee one. It’s a recent rumor about ancient things, it is, and that’s just backward.”
Kee Keema warned Wataru that among the followers of the Old God there might be some who would seek to do a Traveler harm. These men believed that killing a zaza-aku was one of the greatest demonstrations of faith possible—proof that one was a true warrior of the faith.
“Now normally you don’t need to be worried about anything. In other towns, that is. But Gasara is a merchant town, and all sorts gather here. You’ve a much greater chance of running into one of those Old God believers here than anywhere else. That’s why you might want to keep it under your hat that you’re a Traveler, ’kay?”
“Okay,” Wataru whispered back. “I’ll be careful. Thanks.”
Kee Keema sat up in his seat, and in a loud voice asked, “Well, Wataru, where shall we go? Lodgings first, I think.”
Suddenly, Wataru realized he had a problem. His fortune in finding the darbaba driver had completely distracted him from his situation. He had no money, and he had no idea what to do. He didn’t have a single lead as to finding one of the gemstones. He felt a bead of cold sweat trickle down his forehead. Kee Keema frowned. “Something wrong? I said something strange, didn’t I?”
It occurred to Wataru that this kindly waterkin had no idea that his lucky charm, Traveler Wataru, was nothing more than a lost boy adrift and alone in a place he did not understand. Wataru was so lost he didn’t even know what help to ask for.
“I, um…”
“I know, you’re tired, you must be! Of course! Of course! I’m used to the riding, meself, but for you it must have been quite a trip. Let’s find lodging and rest up,” Kee Keema said, without waiting for affirmation from Wataru. “Ah, but first you must let me stable Turbo. The darbaba post is right over there. That’s where darbabas stay, you see. Don’t worry, the lodgings for people aren’t far.”
Turbo walked slowly through the town, making for the darbaba post—a structure much like a walled parking lot in Wataru’s world. Other waterkin like Kee Keema were busily scrubbing down their stabled darbabas, feeding and watering them. In the corner, a small circle of waterkin stood, smoking what looked like tobacco on the end of long, slender pipes. One of them smiled broadly and waved to Kee Keema.
Kee Keema tied Turbo up, and then turned to Wataru. “Well, don’t you look miserable! If you’re too tired to walk, shall I give you a ride on my shoulders again?”
Wataru swallowed. “I…actually, I don’t have money for lodging.”
“Urk?” Kee Keema blinked.
“I have no money. Not a single cent,” Wataru said, talking so fast his words ran together. “Wayfinder Lau gave me a lunch, but he told me everything else was up to me. But I…but I have no idea what to do.”
Kee Keema blinked again, six times in fact. The blinks were rapid, but Wataru, staring intently at Kee Keema to gauge his reaction, was able to count each one.
“Wataru,” he said. “I’ll pay for your lodging.”
“You can’t do that!” Wataru protested. “You’ve already given me a ride this far—I can’t impose on you anymore.”
Kee Keema raised his hands. “Now, now. No need to get agitated.” The waterkin’s long tongue slithered out between his lips. He smiled. “Then I’ll tell you what. I’ll loan you the money. It’s hot out here, so let’s get on inside. We can talk more then.”
The inn in Gasara was a long lodge with walls of thick logs. The guest rooms were arranged down the sides of a long central hallway. The cheapest rooms were called “come-alls”—something like group bunk rooms—but Kee Keema asked for a small private room instead. Hearing his banter with the innkeeper, Wataru learned the unit of currency in this world for the first time: the tem.
The innkeeper was a little man with a bristly beard, an ankha, and he stared at Kee Keema and Wataru for a long time with his glittering eyes. Kee Keema didn’t seem to notice. Bringing Wataru to his room, he laughed and left again, and soon returned carrying two cups.
“Here, drink this,” he said, handing one cup to Wataru. “Nothing feels better than a ride across the grass, but the sun beating down’ll make a man tired. This is best for what ails you.”
The drink was slightly sweet and had a faint medicinal taste.
“Thank you so much,” Wataru said. Sitting down in a simple wooden chair, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Kee Keema licked his lips with a whip of his long tongue. It was hard to tell, but he seemed almost shy. “Like I said, don’t mention it. You’re my lucky star, after all.”
Wataru grinned. A lucky star. Is there anyone in my world that would do so much for a stranger just because they thought they were lucky? Wataru thought it was quite the opposite.
Mitsuru had said that Vision was created by
the imaginative energies of the real world. Wataru wondered: would more visitors from his world change Vision for the worse? He didn’t know.
“You’re going to the Tower of Destiny to meet the Goddess, right?” Kee Keema asked, sitting on the clean, if a little hard-looking, bed.
“Yes, I think so. I want to change my, I mean my and my family’s fate…”
Kee Keema cut him off. “No, don’t tell me. We are taught that Travelers who come from your world to Vision are called here by the Goddess. We do not know why she calls them, and it is not good to ask. Why, it is the Goddess’s will, and that is enough. So, don’t tell me your reasons for coming here.”
Wataru nodded.
“And, Wataru, you know you must reach the Tower on your own.”
“I do.”
“But, there’s nothing that says someone can’t go with you on the way. So, I was thinking, I might join you for a while. If it’s okay with you?”
“Kee Keema!”
“I don’t think the Goddess would mind, not if I only went a little ways.” Kee Keema hastily added. “I mean, look at you, you’re tiny. The Traveler my uncle met, he was already a young man. He could make the trip on his own. But Wataru, you’re still a boy. How would you make money for your trip? I couldn’t abandon a child and live with myself, no sir. That wouldn’t be good at all.”
Wataru felt warm and fuzzy all over. “I would—I mean, that would make me really happy. But what about your work? You can’t quit, just on my account. That’s not good, either.”
Kee Keema’s eyes glimmered. “True, true. That’s why I’m going to deliver my cargo—then I’ll head back up to Sakawa, see? I’ll talk to the chief. If I go by swift cart, the trip should take me only three to four days. So, I want you to wait here for me. ’Kay?”
“But—you’d do that? For me?”
“Of course! Why, I don’t think the chief would think too kindly on me if I just dropped off everything here and went off on my merry way. He’d be right angry, he would. ‘When did you become such a mean old waterkin?’ he’d ask me.” Kee Keema scratched his head. “The chief, he’s four hundred and twenty years old now, but he’s still strong as an ox. Why, he’s been scolding me since I was a wee one, and has given me more than my fair share of swats on the hindquarters. Wouldn’t do to make him cross with me, no sir.”
Over four hundred years! Wataru’s eyes went wide. Waterkin can live that long?
“So then, I should…”
“You should take me up on my offer!” Kee Keema said clapping his hands and jumping to his feet. “Time’s a-wasting, boy! I’ll be heading out. I’ve paid for a five nights’ stay, so you need not worry about a thing. They’ll feed you here too. When you’ve rested up, take a walk around town. There are lots of folks around here; maybe you can talk to them and get a hint about where you want to go next. Just watch out for the believers of the Old God, like I told you.”
Kee Keema lumbered out, happily humming to himself. Wataru watched after him. I wonder how old he is?
Wataru lay down on the bed and stretched. White plastered walls. A ceiling made of woven reeds. The cool of the air inside the room felt good. Wataru relaxed.
For dinner, a round-faced ankha woman delivered bread, stew, and fruit. She said nothing and did not even look at Wataru. But the food was so delicious it more than made up for the lack of hospitality.
When the sun had completely set, Wataru gazed up at the stars through a small window in his room. It looked as though he could reach out and catch them in his hand. Happy, Wataru walked out of the lodge. At night, the town of Gasara was quiet, the lights sputtering here and there on buildings. From some buildings he assumed were restaurants or bars poured more light, and the sounds of music and people talking. Wataru walked, being careful to note the way he had come, and finding a small rise in the middle of town, he again looked up at the night sky.
Filled with the magic of the night, Wataru eventually returned to the lodge. When he reached the front doorway, someone pushed him hard from behind. A vile stench filled his nose.
“You’re the boy that came in with that waterkin today, aren’t you!”
It was a skinny ankha man; spit flew from his mouth as he talked. He reached out in an attempt to grab Wataru’s chest, but Wataru knocked his hand away.
“What, you want to fight?” The man spat. His breath was foul. From the slight wobble in his motions, Wataru realized he was drunk. The stench must have been the smell of liquor. Maybe alcohol here in Vision is stronger than it is in my world.
“Hanging out with waterkin—you’ve got that damn smell on you,” the man muttered, glaring at Wataru. “Hang out with them too long and you’ll sprout scales and get a forked tongue. You know that?”
Wataru stood up silently, feeling the bile rise in his throat. Then he turned his back on the man.
“What? I give you some friendly advice, and you’re going to ignore me?”
The man grabbed Wataru by the shoulder, and Wataru whirled around. “Let me go! That waterkin is ten times the man you are!”
“Why you little…” the man swung his fist. Just then something came flying out from the lodge and struck the man in the face. It was a wet towel.
“None of that!” came a loud voice. It was the unfriendly woman from before, standing with her hands on her hips and glaring at the man. “Drunkard! Get back to your room or I’ll toss you out into the road!”
The inebriated man suddenly became meek, and walked past Wataru into the lodge.
His room is right next to mine!
“Thank you,” Wataru said to the woman. She made no reply, but picked up her towel and tossed it into a nearby wooden bucket filled with murky water.
Wataru had an idea. “Ma’am?”
The woman wrung dirty water out of her towel with thick arms and said nothing.
“Actually, I’m looking for work, to pay for my journey. Is there anything I might do here, like, maybe, cleaning?”
The woman looked at Wataru out of the corner of her eye and spat, “What are your parents thinking, sending a little boy like you out on the road alone?”
Then she picked up her bucket and walked away. Deflated, Wataru trudged back to his room. My parents…As he was falling asleep, Wataru saw his mother drifting across his mind’s eye. That’s right, the Mirror of Truth. I have to find it quick—I have to tell Mom I’m okay.
Wataru slept soundly, with no dreams. It was a peaceful, restful sleep. But he awoke with a jolt.
“Wake up! Wake up, I said!”
Wataru’s eyes blinked open. The innkeeper with the bristly beard had him by the neck and was shaking him. It was already light outside, and the morning sun through the window hurt his eyes.
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
“As if you didn’t know!” the bearded man shouted, dragging Wataru out of bed. “Get up, I say. Sleepy eyes won’t fool me, murderer!”
Murderer? The word was like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Wataru was wide awake now.
“What do you mean ‘murderer’? Did somebody die?”
“Don’t play the fool with me! Look at your hands!”
Wataru took a glance at his hands and his breath stopped. They were covered in blood. It wasn’t only his hands. His undergarments, too, were caked with dried crimson. What’s going on? What happened?
“No use feigning innocence this time!” the man shouted. “You cut the throat of the man in the room next door. This blood is proof of it. You killed him and took his money, didn’t you? Tell me—where did you hide it? Where’s your knife?”
Still in shock, Wataru was tied up with rope and dragged outside in front of the lodge. A crowd of onlookers had already gathered. Some of them began shouting angrily. Any other day, Wataru might have been surprised that the faces in the crowd were those of dogs, cats, bears, even lions, but right now he had more important things to worry about.
“He’s just a boy!”
“I always said ankh
a were precocious!”
“And this is the third he’s killed? Monster!”
“I’ve heard of a boy thief, but he’s a murderer too?”
The words came at Wataru in a frightening whirlwind of sound. The faces were drawn, as if gazing upon something horrible. Wataru’s spine went cold.
I haven’t killed anyone. I haven’t even stolen anything. What are they talking about, three people?
“C’mon!” The bearded innkeeper gave Wataru a swift kick in the pants, and yanked on the rope tied around him. “It’s off to the branch with you.”
The inn’s proprietor began dragging his bound prisoner through the streets of the city. He looked as proud as he was angry, and occasionally he would announce in a loud voice that he had caught the young murderer, scourge of Gasara.
People looked from doorways and windows as Wataru stumbled down the street. Some of the lodge patrons even fell in behind them. He heard a child clapping and shouting in a shrill voice, “They caught him! The killer-thief’s been caught!”
Up to this point Wataru had been mute with confusion and terror, but when he heard the boy he shouted, “I haven’t done anything! This is all a mistake!”
The innkeeper lashed out with his foot again, and Wataru was knocked to the ground. His cheek scraped on the dirt road, and gravel filled his mouth.
Just then, soft hands reached out and picked Wataru up from the ground. He looked and saw that the arms were covered with pure white fur—with stripes the color of milk.
He looked up to see the face of a cat, white with brown stripes, with large blue-gray eyes, staring at Wataru.
“Are you okay?” the cat asked. Tiny silver whiskers grew from its pink nose. Its voice was unmistakably feminine. It moved like a girl too—like one of his classmates back in the real world.
“Stay away from him, you! This boy is a murderer!” the innkeeper barked as he yanked Wataru to his feet. The cat-girl backed away trembling. Her eyes never left Wataru’s.
She had the face of a cat, but she was beautiful. She stood like a human, and was wearing something like a short-skirted jumpsuit. Kitkin, I wonder? She looked as frightened as Wataru felt, like she might start crying at any time.