CHAPTER 87
Olivia swept into Katarina’s bedroom, expecting Katarina to be dressed and ready for dancing. Instead she found a mocking note, pinned to the door of her apartments with what looked to be a long knife, or perhaps a sword.
Olivia glowered at the note, and the weapon. What wind could possibly blow for Katarina to think that embedding a knife in the door of a Lady Cardinal’s apartments was appropriate? She’d just had the door to her bath, the carpeting, the armoire, and a maid replaced because of that woman!
After a last glare at the weapon, she plucked the note and scanned it, her face growing more and more furious by the moment.
Olivia showed up to the ballroom simmering with anger. She’d wanted to dance with Katarina, to see and be seen with her, to spend time with her, both publicly and privately intimate, and the Witch Hunter had simply left her a mocking note that she "might" be at the dance, and dared Olivia to find her there.
She didn’t bother taking in the massive, ornate ballroom, with its ponderous tinkling chandeliers of real glass, ignored the opulent hanging silks, the massive tables overwhelmed with food. She was on a mission to find Katarina, and she wouldn’t stop until she’d done exactly that.
Of course, there was no place Katarina could go that Olivia could not find her, of that she was certain. She loved the Witch Hunter, that had to count for something. Determinism, if nothing more.
She scanned the chattering groups of noblewomen in their dresses and summarily ignored them. Katarina was no gossip, and as far as she knew, had no other lady-friends. Neither the paladin Nadette or the former High Inquisitor Lady Caine ever made appearances to events such as these, so that was ruled out. She took her time eyeing the single women, the few and far between women who were on the social outs, or had retired to the sides for a break in the dances, and spotted no one there that she recognized. She could feel the tension ratcheting up inside of her as time went on and she grew increasingly incapable of identifying Katarina in the crowd.
As far as she knew, Katarina hadn’t even been sized for a dancing dress. How was she to identify her? Her thoughts flew about into a frantic haze while she gulped champagne and nibbled on a sweetmeat.
"Katarina..." She moaned despondently. She thought back to the woman’s file. No! Katarina wasn’t a file, she was a woman. A talented and skilled woman, trained in all sorts of tactics and techniques. Some goddess-carved perfection that seemed wholly capable of anything and everything.
She remembered the one time she’d listened to Katarina at the Baptistery and shuddered. Just because she was capable of doing anything didn’t mean... she paused in that thought. Didn’t mean what? She couldn’t find a way to addendum the thought. Katarina was tough. Deep-down tough. She’d faced horrors the likes of which Olivia had never known. Things she could have comfortably gone her entire life without knowing. Oh, the horrors that woman had witnessed!
For a moment her thoughts froze. How, exactly, was she looking for Katarina? For a woman with her face? Most of the people had a domino mask of some sort or another. It wasn’t impossible for Katarina to have a domino or even a full harlequin. There were dozens of shops where she might have purchased them.
She didn’t know what Katarina was wearing, but the woman had to stand out in some way. Some indefinable, explicit way. She was not one to live in the city, she was a predator, a huntress calibre as those from Lyonesse would say.
Katarina was tall. Olivia didn’t know how tall, exactly, but then again, was she supposed to carry a tape measure with her and measure the ballroom guests? Preposterous. But Katarina was tall. Taller than most women and some men. Tall and gorgeous, with that long hair, that hair that hung all the way-
She stopped with a smile. There wasn’t anyone at the ball that came close to mimicking Katarina’s hair, a strange mix of cornsilk and gold, white and blonde. Katarina’s unbound hair hung down to her thighs, and in its characteristic rope-thick braid, it hung to her hips.
There was only one like that, and that was a man, dressed in an ivory and green suit, apparently having a conversation with one of the cliques. No. It wasn’t a man, it was Katarina, she was certain.
That suit was elegant, Olivia thought. Slim lapels on the greatcoat, a white belt snugged around a taut waist that snap-flared into two triangle tails that hung to the inside of the knee. The waistcoat was a lustrous emerald silk, covered in a rich brocade. The shirt was blinding white with a ruffled throat. The trousers were tailored to show just a hint of the hip and thigh that lay beneath. Katarina was at turns bold and demure; anyone caught wearing such a thing would surely be censured and ostracised, and yet Katarina had the audacity to do it anyway. No woman in their right mind would be caught wearing a suit, but there she was, wearing one clearly tailored for a woman's proportions. Because she had the audacity to do it, no one could dare fault her. Unbelievable. She did the one thing no one thought to do and they couldn’t challenge her. Brilliant, unassailable, and audacious. The rumor-mill of the merchant-nobles would be working itself into a lather; but it was clear the Witch Hunter didn't care. What could they do but whisper?
Katarina was wearing a harlequin, a full mask that covered the entirety of her face from forehead to chin all done in cream tones to match the suit, with brilliant emerald curlicues and gold flake accents.
A hot flush of anger suffused Olivia. The suit, the mask, it all spoke of careful forethought and planning. The runaround Katarina had given her earlier was premeditated. Katarina knew of the ball, planned ahead enough to have a suit tailored and mask made. Olivia wanted to hit her.
So distracted was she by her anger she hadn’t noticed when Katarina had disappeared, suddenly appearing by her arm as if by magic.
"You caught me." Katarina murmured.
"You monster. I thought we were being honest with each other." Olivia growled, allowing herself to be dragged out onto the dance floor. The lips of Katarina’s mask were flake gold, limned in black. Such a thing must have cost ten fortunes. Where had she gotten the coin to afford such a thing?
"You’re making too much of this." Katarina replied, pulling Olivia close and taking the lead through the four-step. "There aren’t many I would dance with, and you happen to be on that list."
Olivia frowned beneath her mask. "Oh? Who else would you dance with?" She asked curiously.
"Only a few others. Lady Caine, Frederika, The Blessed Saints Celestine, Alicia, and Andriana. Simurgh. The Golden Lady." Katarina replied simply enough, as if there were some way to comfortably turn down a dance offer from the Golden Lady, the Goddess of the Dawn.
"I’m in exalted company." Olivia replied, and then smiled up at her lover. The alcohol, the music, the lights, Katarina’s eyes behind her mask, it was all of it almost overwhelming.
"So what was it that calmed you down enough to notice me?" Katarina asked behind her mask.
"Your hair." Olivia replied simply. Katarina nodded. "I figured it was something like that."
"Why do you have such long hair?" Olivia asked. "It just seems so... impractical."
Katarina nodded, turning and shifting, keeping up with the dance steps.
"It’s a Pavlenko thing. Women don’t cut their hair after they leave girlhood behind." she replied. "Sometimes I’ve wanted to. It’s a hassle. It gets in the way. It’s heavy. If I’m not careful it can get caught on things. But I think back to every other Pavlenko woman who has gone before me, and I cannot let them down out of some ‘inconvenience’." She finished.
Olivia rolled her eyes. "You haven’t had much interaction with your family, Kat." She replied. "What’s the real reason?"
Katarina audibly snorted behind her mask. "It is a reason, but it’s not the whole reason, like you said." She agreed. "Really, it’s more like," and she paused, "And you would do well to remember this, too, Olivia," She added pointedly, whirling the woman about. "No matter what, You can’t change some things, no matter how you might feel on the matter."
They fell into their respective silences, Olivia considering the crated reports that had been carried by armed guard into her quarters; Katarina of that one moment on the riverbank, half-in and half-out of a stand of cattails, Simurgh cowering under the glare of the Golden Lady’s avatar.
"No. Some things can’t be changed, only accepted." She muttered, and Olivia agreed gloomily.
"It doesn’t matter tonight, Katarina." Olivia insisted. "Tonight, you’re with me, and tonight we’re dancing." She affirmed, as if to clear the somber air that had grown between them.
"Yes, we are." Katarina agreed. "Let’s head up to the second dance floor."
Olivia glanced at the upper dance floor. "The Urvogel? You want to dance the Urvogel?" She asked curiously, watching the pairs that strutted and stopped, spun and gestured. Katarina nodded.
Olivia fetched a sigh that seemed to start at the tops of her shoes, and nodded in agreement. It was a classical dance, with many variations, but short of doing something scandalous it really was sort of boring. She eyed Katarina. That woman was scandal incarnate. She fetched another sigh. She wondered if her social reputation would survive the night.
The upper ballroom was massive and ornate, fluted columns carved with twisting vines and lilies reached up to ribbed vaults, while ponderous chandeliers showered light from a thousand glowing crystals. Massive tables groaned under the weight of exotic and delicate foodstuffs. The dancefloor was mostly bare, reserved for those couples who chose to dance the Urvogel.
Katarina marveled over the opulence with a trace of bitterness. Most peasants had next to nothing, and could spend whole years of their lives working to accumulate a small handful of silver. The suit she was wearing, the domino mask, the jewelry that Olivia wore, all of it could build, populate, and feed a village for a year. Servants rotated through the throngs with trays of appetizers and drinks in real glasses. Glass was rare and expensive, and yet the various nobles supped from glasses that cost a fortune with no apparent concern.
Part of the dance floor cleared for them, as the Ur-Vogel was still a popular dance. Katarina tucked her left hand behind her back, and took four steps away from Olivia, then stopped, spun quickly, the tails of her suit flapping, then struck a pose,chin up, one arm still behind her back, the right poised on the point of her chin, as if contemplating something. She then ostentatiously glanced at Olivia, glanced away, again staring at nothing, glanced back, and spun again, with a flirtatious wave.
That turned heads. Katarina took the maestro role, instead of the maestra, as would be expected of her, but mixed both maneuvers. Olivia’s eyes widened at this, herself, but decided to follow along. She sashayed away two steps, but spun about and returned two steps more, and repeated the wave.
Katarina took two steps towards Olivia, and suddenly they were face to face. Olivia was raising her left hand to match with Katarina, but Katarina raised her right, left hand still behind her back. Olivia hastily raised her right, and pressed palm to palm, they circled twice, and Katarina took one step back. She spun again, her back to Olivia.
Conventionally, this shortened the number of moves Olivia had. If Katarina was playing the male role, and herself the woman, Olivia could attempt to draw Katarina in, by taking two steps towards her. It seemed that was what Katarina wanted to happen, by the way she was signaling, by taking two steps towards her, and then one step away. Olivia would have to cross over the invisible boundary into Katarina’s domain.
Instead, she instead stepped forward, twisted her skirts right, left, and stopped, one hand on her hip. Several of the watching nobles exclaimed at this. Not an uncommon maneuver, but this wasn’t a common Ur-Vogel.
Katarina stepped forward once, stepped once to the side. She was one step away from Olivia. If she were playing the male role, she could go down on one knee, signalling the end of the ‘courtship’, to which Olivia could reply with acceptance or rejection. Instead, she copied Olivia’s move, swishing her coat, and putting her left hand on her hip.
Olivia responded by stepping forward, so that she was next to Katarina. She turned away, and then turned back, and offered her left hand, palm out.
Katarina smiled wryly. A bold move. In places like Begierde and Einsamkeit, the left hand was considered the ‘heart’ hand, and the right considered the ‘head’ hand. Therefore all official or professional greetings were done with the right, and all familial or affectionate greetings with the left. As part of the Ur-Vogel, Olivia was signalling her acceptance of Katarina’s courtship dance -so far.
Katarina raised her left hand, and again, palm to palm, they circled twice. Now it was Katarina’s turn, but instead of stepping away or adopting another courting posture, she offered her left hand to Olivia, who smiled and matched it with her own. They circled twice again.
Katarina took one step away, her back to Olivia, and swayed back and forth, eyeing Olivia over her shoulder. A low gasp floated across the ballroom. That was considered in most polite circles a ‘risque’ move. She then spun back to face Olivia, hands on her hips. She extended her left arm, and curled her finger at Olivia, urging her closer.
A flood of things went through Olivia’s mind. Impudent, saucy- she started. If she responded to the obviously lustful gesture, it could reflect poorly on her. If she didn’t, it might reflect poorly on her to Katarina. There was also the dividing line that separated the male half of the four-step boundary. Katarina trying to tease her across the line. If she did that, she effectively ‘won’, and decided how the dance would end.
Suddenly a dash of cold ran down her spine. Katarina knew what she was doing the entire time. She broke the rules for the Ur-Vogel by playing the male part, certainly, but she added feminine gestures to the male role, which was unheard-of. They had danced, and then Katarina had upped the ante by using moves that were outright banned in some circles for their lasciviousness. She knew what she was doing, and she didn’t care what others thought. Katarina smiled at her, and beckoned her with her finger.
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Olivia stepped forward, and linked her arms around Katarina’s neck. She lifted herself up on her toes and whispered into Katarina’s ear. "You’re a complete ass."
Katarina laughed delightedly in her ear, then lifted her a little and twirled her around. "Shall we leave?" She asked huskily in Olivia’s ear, who shivered in anticipation.
"Finish the dance, first." Olivia replied, and Katarina laughed again in her ear.
She stepped back and curtseyed respectfully. Olivia returned the curtsey, and they strolled off the ballroom floor together, arm in arm.
True to her word, Olivia danced with Katarina for only a couple hours, and then they retired afterwards. For her part, Katarina enjoyed dancing with Olivia, but didn’t care for the food because it was too rich for her liking.
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In silent dreaming, she soared above the ground, so far above that rivers were trickles, mountains were points, forests were shades of green against shades of green.
Soared was the wrong word. She drifted indifferently, the ground unreeling beneath her. A strange sense of understanding came to her, as it did in the manner of dreams: She was, in this form, sleeping a half-sleep that was some sort of indifferent gentle repose.
She turned over in her sleep, and her body, her form, darkened and solidified into clumps. Angry jitters of power thrummed to life, racing through the eternity that was her body, a body that stretched for miles in every direction. She exhaled, and a thousand twisting gusts of wind spilled forth. Thunder cracked and rumbled ominously.
Simurgh eyed her incuriously, her night-black eyes unblinking. "Such a strange mortal." She mused, and then, lips twisting in a sneer away from needle-like teeth, she spat some hissing curse that rumbled like miniature thunder. "Mortal." She hissed. "Can that even apply to you, anymore?" She asked rhetorically. "If it does, what does that make me?!" She suddenly spat.
Katarina shook her head. "I don’t understand. You’re Simurgh."
The Angelic Spirit of the Storm snarled. "You don’t even remember, do you?" She spat furiously.
Katarina shook her head honestly. "What? What is it I’m supposed to remember?"
Simurgh clenched her hands until blood, night-black, began to drip from her fists.
"Sometimes you dream like you’re me. Sometimes you think you’re you, and you dream of yourself." She growled, and the light crystals flickered. "Sometimes I dream." She spit. "I dream I’m you. Does that ring any bells, Katarina?" She spit, raising one bloody fist.
Katarina stumbled back as the implications hit her like a physical blow. "What-" She began, but Simurgh pointed one black-nailed, dripping finger at her. "We are both of us caged." She spat, and then vanished.
Katarina sighed with relief and sagged against the wall of her room. Simurgh was mercurial and terrifying. Feeling a deep ache in her hand, Katarina glanced down. She’d been clenching her own hand so tightly she’d driven her nails into her palm, and blood oozed sluggishly from the wounds. In the uncertain light, her own nails appeared black.
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The next morning she found herself well-rested and ready to face the day. She dressed quickly and left a slumbering Olivia in bed while she headed to her appointment with Lady Cardinal Yuriko.
"There was a Yamato woman I met once; she wore this a lot differently." Katarina remarked, plucking at the collar of her kimono.
"Don’t pick at it. You are not a dog, you don’t have fleas." Yuriko suddenly snapped at her with an angry glare. "Wait... you don’t have fleas, do you?" She asked suddenly, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Katarina glared back at her, and Yuriko finally nodded after a long moment.
"Good. That woman, how did she dress?" She asked, suddenly switching topics, causing Katarina to blink in startlement.
"Oh, Sasaki? She had a pleated skirt along with the kimono." Katarina replied. "She travelled with me for a bit- from Higgenfal to Aston."
"Sasaki..." Yuriko mused. "Was that her family name?" She asked curiously. Katarina shook her head. "She wouldn’t give me her family name. She said there was bad blood between them."
"This Sasaki would likely have worn the hakama of a warrior." Yuriko replied noncommittally.
"I’m not?" Karatina asked, eyebrow raised. Yuriko sniffed in response.
"Certainly not. You do not have the discipline of a proper warrior." She replied acerbically.
"Now you’re just being insulting. I’ve been trained in a number of weapons, Yuriko." Katarina retorted as they arrived at the Lady Cardinal’s suite.
Without warning and in the space of an eyeblink the Lady Cardinal reached into the sleeve of her kimono and brought out a wooden rod about as long as her arm and about as big around as her thumb. She twisted her body, turning to Katarina. Her hand blurred, there was a dull susurration of wind, and the rod cracked against the knuckles of Katarina’s right hand sharply. It happened so quickly that Katarina didn’t have time to react. She bit back a yelp and clutched her right hand in her left.
"‘Lady Cardinal’." Yuriko emphasized sharply. "While you are under my tutelage you will show proper manners and respect." she glared up at the taller woman. "You have neither the right of title nor privilege of friendship to address me so casually. Going forward, I should only hear, ‘Lady Cardinal’ or ‘Your Grace’ cross your lips when addressing me." She stated flatly.
Katarina nursed the ache in her hand and eyed the smaller woman dangerously. The rod that she’d used on Katarina’s hand had disappeared again; was it in her sleeve? Yuriko caught the Witch Hunter’s gaze. "You object? If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay. You may leave the Church at any time." She remarked dismissively. She opened the door to her rooms, and held it open for Katarina.
"And to respond to your earlier charge, you are no warrior. Simply knowing which end of a sword to stick into an opponent does not make you a warrior. Discipline makes you a warrior. Honor makes you a warrior." She shook her head. "You are no warrior."
"If you have the heart and dedication to walk the path of a warrior, then you should be able to endure at least this much." She eyed Katarina. "You may enter."
Katarina, remembering Sasaki’s warnings, chuckled. Sasaki was right: Five Rings bullshit.
Yuriko’s apartments were completely different from every other suite of apartments she’d seen so far. It was beyond the point of austerity, it was spartan. Everything was flat lines and straight angles. The floor was covered in woven mats of some material; the walls were paneled in a similar way. In the center of the room was a firepit; a bed of coals glowed cheerily.
"You don’t have a fireplace?" Katarina asked curiously, and the Lady Cardinal turned towards her, hand blurring. The rod cracked against Katarina’s arm again, lightning fast. "You forget your manners again, Witch Hunter." She hissed angrily. Katarina stepped back angrily, brows lowering.
"You alone hold the reins to how this lesson will proceed, Katarina Pavlenko." Yuriko stated imperiously. "If you continue to display your beastly incivility, you will find this lesson a purely disciplinary one." She folded her arms and waited expectantly.
"My apologies, Lady Cardinal." Katarina finally let out through clenched teeth.
"Better." The Lady Cardinal agreed. "To answer your question properly, you Anglish seem to think that the bigger the thing is, the better it is." She moved to the firepit with a careful grace. "In this, as with a great many things, this is incorrect." She turned and smirked up at Katarina. "Bigger does not necessarily mean better."
Yuriko knelt gracefully, settled a teapot of water on the tripod over the fire, and rose again with that weirdly evocative grace, and moved to one of the wall panels. Sliding it aside revealed a closet; Yuriko removed a tray with simple cups. She moved to the other side of the room, and slid a door open, revealing another room, and gestured to Katarina to follow her.
Katarina stepped in the room and glanced about. Just like the main room, this room was just as austere and empty as the previous, except that there was a low stand with several swords arranged ornamentally, and a suit of Yamato armor rested on an armor stand.
"Have you ever used a Yamato blade, Katarina Pavlenko?" Yuriko asked, reaching out to pick up one of the swords on the rack.
Katarina shook her head. "No, Lady Cardinal." She replied. "but I’ve seen them used. They require both hands to be used, and I need at least one hand free for my gun."
Yuriko snorted. "Guns." She made a face. "Not a true warrior’s weapon." She picked up a sword by its scabbard, and turned and faced Katarina once more.
"Take it." She gestured, and Katarina took the sword from her. Immediately she frowned. "The blade is shorter than the last one I saw." She observed, baring the blade. "and it’s balanced wrong." Yuriko frowned with distaste at Katarina’s critique. Katarina took a couple of practice swipes with the blade in a one-handed grip. "The curve throws off the balance even more. This is just terrible. A useless blade." She shook her head. "I could never use something like this." She sheathed the sword and offered it back to Yuriko. "Besides Lady Cardinal, wasn’t it your own Musashi-sama that said that guns were peerless on the battlefield?"
Yuriko’s eyes widened and her mouth opened a little in shock. "How is it that you know of Musashi-sama?" She gasped and Katarina’s eyebrow twitched.
"I mentioned this before; I traveled with a Yamato swordswoman." She tried to keep the sardonic tone from her voice; Sasaki’s critique had been full of bitter irony and sarcasm and it carried from Sasaki to Katarina well, who shared some of Sasaki’s opinions. "She told me about the Five Rings and the values it impressed upon the reader: simplicity of living, the austerity, and the removal of any movement in sword combat that wasn’t to a direct and immediate advantage- no ‘wasted movement’, she called it. She also went into great detail about Musashi and his love of pederasty."
Yuriko’s eyes widened and then narrowed; her face radiated fury as her eyes moved back and forth as she worked what Katarina had said over in her mind.
"A swordswoman irreverent to the Five Rings bearing a sword longer than a katana, unwilling to use her family name, and disrespectful of Musashi-sama..." Yuriko’s lips pressed together in a tight line.
"I know of Sasaki. There likely isn’t a Yamato alive on this side of the ocean that doesn’t know of her." She remarked with disgust. Katarina nodded at this. "Still, she was helpful in disposing of a demon cult." If anything, Yuriko looked even more disapproving at this statement.
"The water for tea is likely ready now." Yuriko announced, and gestured for the witch hunter to return to the previous room.
"I am a warrior from a family of warriors, with a dynastic legacy of warriors going back four hundred years, Witch Hunter." Yuriko said as they settled themselves around the small firepit. "When I say this, I want you to understand that I am not boasting, merely a statement of fact."
"With respect due, Lady Cardinal", Katarina began, "I’ve seen the Yamato armor. It’s not really designed to ward off a determined attack. I could probably defeat it with a simple thrust from my own saber."
Yuriko rolled her eyes at this proclamation. "Is the mark of a warrior the ability to take a blow and survive, or is it to never allow the blow to land in the first place?" She asked rhetorically.
Katarina rolled her eyes at this, and Yuriko smirked a little.
"Your lesson today was going to be a discussion of warfare, but it seems our tactics and schools of thought are too far apart." Yuriko finally allowed. "Instead, I will allow you to question me."
"I don’t understand, Lady Cardinal." Katarina replied.
"We have never allowed a Witch Hunter onto Yamato soil, Katarina. More to the point, we do not allow the Anglish any purchase on our lands." She smiled a little, and to Katarina it seemed triumphant, smug even. "Surely you have questions. As long as you are respectful of my station, I will permit you to ask what you will."
Katarina tongued one of her teeth as she considered.
"Why does the Anglish Empire tolerate Yamato but prosecute a war against elven and half-elven?" She asked finally, and Yuriko raised her eyebrow and Katarina hurriedly added a "Lady Cardinal".
"Many reasons." Yuriko remarked shortly, and lifted the pot off the fire and poured tea for the two of them. "Necessity makes for strange bedfellows, for example. You Anglish need steel, and we need so much else. Cattle, sheep, goats, corn, cotton, lumber, all these things. Also, we worship the Golden Lady as you do, though in different ways." She added thoughtfully, and held out her hand. "Sky above, earth below."
"I don’t understand." Katarina replied.
"We live as a part of the world, not apart from it. We find ways to coexist. Rather than gutting a mountain for stone, we build around it. Every house has gardens and trees." She trailed off. "You know of ley lines, yes?" She asked, and Katarina snorted. "Of course."
"We coexist with them." Yuriko replied calmly. She raised her eyebrows at Katarina challengingly. "This is where you threaten me with heresy, Katarina."
Katarina clenched her teeth, biting back that statement. Yuriko chuckled at her forbearance and sipped her tea.
"Magic can be toxic, yes. Can be poisonous. However, we have found our own ways of filtering and stabilizing the flows of magic so that there are no mutations, no abominations. Magic flows through the land and we care for the land, and in turn it cares for us." She raised her hands, palms up. "And the Golden Lady watches over us all." She sipped her tea, and Katarina did the same. "The Yamato do not like coming here, because unlike our lands, which are stable, these lands are riotous and toxic." She shook her head sadly. "It seems that by stabilizing our lands we have become more prone to mutation than you humans."
Katarina, thinking back on Araya, nodded absently.
"Would the Yamato prosecute a war against other elves?" Katarina asked, and Yuriko raised her eyebrow. "Too ambiguous a question, and predicated on the assumption that the Yamato are elves. A nation will war against another nation for any number of reasons." She closed her eyes for a moment and then re-opened them. "We are not elves, nor are we half-elves or quarters, or however you choose to define us. We are the Yamato."
"Let’s return to the topic, then: You said that you don’t allow the Anglish on your lands." Katarina offered, and Yuriko raised an eyebrow. "That’s right."
"What is it that you keep in your land that the Anglish are prevented from seeing?" She asked, eyes narrowing.
Yuriko laughed. "I am not obligated to reveal the secrets of the Yamato to you, Witch Hunter." Katarina raised her eyebrow and her hands tightened. "You seem to forget my calling, Lady Cardinal. My duty is to root out heresy wherever it lies, high or low."
Yuriko laughed mockingly. "And my authority outweighs yours, Witch Hunter, or have you forgotten?"
Katarina could remind the Lady Cardinal of her status as an Inquisitor, but it would accomplish nothing, she was certain. Instead, she kept her silence.
"There will come a time where we can no longer coexist and the Yamato will war against the Anglish." Yuriko said softly. "Mutually opposing ideas cannot coexist. The Anglish believe in reshaping the world to suit them, and the Yamato believe in coexisting with the world and keeping a balance between ourselves and the world. We are Yamato, and yet you Anglish continue to insist we are elven." She shook her head. "Too many differences."
"Let’s suppose a Witch Hunter were to somehow land on the Yamato isles." Katarina hypothesized. "What would they find?"
Yuriko snorted. "A stupid question. Death. They would find death."
"Do you suppose there will ever be a Yamato Witch Hunter?" Katarina asked, thinking of Sasaki, and Yuriko’s eyes widened. "What an interesting idea. I have no idea." She was silent for a moment, and then offered, "Understand that I mean no disrespect, but if one were to become a Witch Hunter, they would no longer be Yamato. I do not think that would be appealing to any who would try."
She glanced at the fire. "The meeting is coming to a close, Katarina. I would end our lesson with a word of advice: Don’t involve yourself with Olivia anymore in..." She trailed off. "That fashion." She ended delicately.
"What fashion is that, Lady Cardinal?" Katarina asked, and Yuriko raised her eyes to Katarina’s face. "You know of what I speak. She does not seek relationships with men." She glanced about, and Katarina raised her eyebrow at this, and her hand tightened on her cup.
"The Golden Lady does not sanction against any particular relationship as long as long as consent is given in good faith and the love is mutual." Yuriko continued, and Katarina nodded.
"Good thing for the Yamato, since you believe in having multiple wives." Katarina replied, drinking her tea.
"That’s different." Yuriko snapped. "We are speaking of the Golden Lady in her fertility aspect, do not stray from the conversation, Witch Hunter." She continued coldly. "A man cannot cleave to another man and be fertile. Likewise a woman cannot cleave to another woman and bear fruit."
Katarina was going to retort with Sasaki’s claim about Musashi liking boys, but instead, she sighed through her nose at this. "I have heard that Yamato Shrine Maidens forswear relations with men."
Yuriko waved her hand dismissively. "This is wholly irrelevant to the topic. They forswear relations, period." She replied hotly. "It is a thing of the monasteries and shrines. They abandon physical desires to pursue the sublime. Stop changing the subject."
"I don’t actually know what it is that you are saying, Lady Cardinal." Katarina replied.
"I am saying that although ... those types of relations are..." She trailed off "...allowed, they cannot be... fruitful."
Katarina sighed and set her cup down. "You’re not wrong." She replied. "But the heart can’t be reasoned with or made to follow logic."
Yuriko sighed. "It seems we’ve discovered something else we cannot agree on." She concluded. "Our lesson is over, Witch Hunter."
Katarina rose to her feet, considered, and turned back to Yuriko.
"One more question, if you don’t mind." She asked meditatively.
"What is it, Witch Hunter?" Yuriko asked, and Katarina pursed her lips in thought.
"What are ‘oni’?" She asked, and Yuriko gave her a baffled look, clearly not expecting the question.
"What-?" Yuriko began, but shook her head, baffled and amazed. "I never expected-" She muttered amazedly. She let out a slow breath. "Fanciful tales we tell children to scare them at night." She remarked with a wry smile. "‘Go to bed or the oni will come and eat you’." she added by way of explanation.
Katarina nodded. "That’s all. Thank you, Lady Cardinal."