Lin jolted upward, and was immediately thrown back onto her plank seat. The ferry boat lurched as it was drawn into a raging current, seconds away from a blind drop into a cavernous ravine.
“Turn the boat, do something!” she screamed, scrambling toward the boat’s stern.
“Turn?” Toku grinned, “We’re right on course.”
Lin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She glanced at the faces of Fuu and Yu, both uneasy yet very much composed. How could they all sit so calmly at the precipice of the blind plunge?
“Back in your seat,” ordered the ferryman, setting his oar aside. From the starboard side of the outer hull, he took hold of a sturdy pole that was attached with a short chain and quickly plunged its hooked end into the shallow corals, repeating the same with an identical pole of metal portside. There was a horrible crunching sound as the boat was brought to a grinding halt. Lin managed to take a breath, slightly relieved by their stay of a watery execution, but was still pressingly aware of the crevice lurking mere metres ahead. Seemingly disconcerted with the imminent drop, the ferryman retrieved a flintlock pistol from the inner pocket of his raincoat. Its handle was well worn; the barrel was metal, smoothbore, and he loaded it with a sprinkle of black powder, followed by a small ball of lead.
“You might want to cover your ears, girl,” the ferryman advised. His voice had a certain hoarseness to it that told of years of strained use. Lin took a step back from the bow, hands over her ears, and looked upon the flash of fire and smoke from the pistol’s barrel as he fired a shot over the far side of the ravine. She wasn’t entirely convinced that the distant splash of water could bring them closer to safety, but nor was she in any way familiar with a single aspect of boating or firearms, and so she kept her concerns to herself. What brittle faith she had placed in the ferryman soon bore a result, and however unclear in its helpfulness, the shallow waters at the mouth of the crevice began to drain away. Lin gaped in awe at the designs that had been submerged below. Strips of warped metal smothered the fields of coral with sharp, twisted tips that would have undoubtedly rooted themselves into the hull of any vessel unfortunate enough to enter their vicinity. Channels of deeper water ran through the corals- branching paths of smooth rock pitted with grooves that resembled chisel marks. Spirals began to form on the water’s surface as it continued to lower, and peering beneath those bubbling whirlpools, Lin noticed that a series of metal grates had been built into the lake bed.
“Path should be clear enough by now,” said the ferryman, landing feet-first onto the stone trench below. Toku and the others followed after him.
“You’re dropping us off at the centre of the lake?” Lin asked, utterly confused.
The ferryman nodded, “As requested.”
“This is the In-Between Ravine? Who thought it was a good idea to build a town in the middle of a lake… fall… thing?”
Yu peered over the cliff’s edge, “I’d like to know how they built it. It’s a sheer drop the whole way around.”
“I just sail the ferry,” grumbled the old man. He stared at Lin until she reluctantly disembarked. With the water lapping at his ankles, the ferryman began to push the boat over the smooth stone with the weight of his entire body.
Toku answered in the old man’s place, “The water didn’t flow when they built this town.”
“Seems simple enough, just find the tap and turn it off, right?” Lin grinned.
“I don’t believe things were quite so simple, no,” he replied. “Chiaki usually knows something about wherever we visit, why don’t you ask her?”
A single glance in the direction of the armoured soldier was enough to discourage any curiosity Lin might have held. Chiaki, however, seemed more than happy for the opportunity to share her obscure knowledge.
“Keisato wasn’t built in the centre of a lake. Rather, the lake was built around Keisato. It’s one of the very few settlements that survived the Dark Age of Stagnation. At the time, there were no bodies of water in the vicinity. This whole valley is manmade.”
“You mean to tell us that your ancestors terraformed an entire landscape?” Fuu asked with a raised eyebrow. “Forgive my doubt, but history is often coalesced with the fantasies of songwriters and poets.”
“Often, not always,” Toku said, gesturing at the unnatural formations, “And any doubt pales against a tangible reality. The truth has been laid out before you, has it not? An architectural wonder built by those that came before us.”
Growing quickly uninterested with the arguing of the others, Lin looked back to the struggling ferryman at the bow of his boat. He had already covered a small distance through the stone channel, though his well-weathered body trembled at the straining effort.
“How are you going to get back?” she called after him. “Wait, how are we going to get back?”
“If you’re worried about the water’s current, don’t be. It’s not strong enough to draw anything in at this level. As for leaving the ravine, boats come this way often, just wait below the water lock and you’ll be able to negotiate passage to the trading town.” He explained. “It may be wise to move on, they won’t keep their waters lowered forever. Good fortune to you, girl.” The ferryman raised a hand in farewell before returning to his slog through the shallows.
A flight of stairs carved into the cliff face opened the path into Keisato’s ravine. They were misshapen, uneven in places, and dangerously slippery. Handrails had been installed at certain points along the wall and the steps themselves had simplistic engravings that, though now faded, allowed for better footing.
From the highest of the steps it was difficult to discern much of the ravine town past its basic layout. The many pathways between each platform were shielded by roofs, their dark grey tiles spotted with the spray of water. Great pillars of ancient wood supported the foundations for the multiple levels of the town, some reinforced in places by curved sheets of rusted steel. As they continued to descend deeper, Keisato’s structural scale became clear. The In-Between Ravine was indeed much more than an unusual novelty, it was a truly grand creation spanning more than a mile in length and a third of that in width. There were several vertical layers to the town, five in all, the highest of which was equipped with water mills at either side and farming beds along the centre where the crops would have a chance to grow without the risk of drowning.
Sounds of machinery echoed across the ravine when they reached the bottom of the staircase at the second layer of Keisato. A large wooden house with a walkway at its front bridged the gap between the town and cliff face, Lin peered through one of the sliding windows as she passed, then sheepishly moved on upon realising that the house’s owner had been staring straight back. Following the length of the ravine was a central path laid with thick wooden sleepers, each side lined with houses and pathways that led to more residential areas. The central walkway was called Ginzōji’s Path, or so Chiaki claimed, and had been named after Ginzōji the Great, a man supposedly responsible for diverting the Ryokune River into the Steep Lake. There were fewer shops to be found there than in the surface town, and most traded in relatively affordable goods and services compared to the lavishly inflated commodities above.
“Has Lord Toku visited Keisato before, Chiaki? He seems to know his way well enough,” Lin noticed. She couldn’t help feeling a sense of rudeness when addressing her by first name, but none other had been given. The intensity of the feeling more than doubled in the case of Toku despite his insistence. The face of the fanged hannya upon Chiaki’s helm sparkled under the dancing lights of the surrounding waterfalls.
“My lord has visited once, although I don’t recall the reason.”
“Two times, actually,” Toku corrected from ahead. “This little detour is a third that I had hoped to avoid. There are few people I care to see in this town and even fewer that care to see me.”
Children chased one another along the edges of Ginzōji’s Path, seemingly oblivious to the sunken caverns that stretched hundreds of metres below the town. It was nearly impossible to make out any individual detail beneath the rocky outcrops that rose from the floor of the ravine. All was obscured by shadow and flood. Lin took a cautious step toward the edge. Staring out at the vast empty void below, she could feel her anxiety screaming at her to run, but also drawing her closer to the dark, watery depths.
The less-than-humble abode of Keisato’s Daimyō was found at the end of the pathway, sporting the widest of all foundations and the tallest of all structures in the town’s second layer. Unlike most of the neighbouring buildings, the Daimyō’s home was styled with a foundation of rocks upon stone, with clay walls separated by columns of dark wood. A wider roof than most topped the magnificent structure; its central positioning in the ravine meant the large kawara tiles were spared much of the water spray. Stone lanterns occupied the sides of the main entrance, their shapes bevelled and as almost as tall as Lin herself. The likeness of freshwater eels had been engraved into their forward-facing surfaces in a wavy, curled pose.
Stationed at the building’s various entrances was a detail of armed guards wielding rifles that the group found pointed at them as they made their approach. There must have been some recognition between the men as Toku did not stop to announce his arrival, walking straight through the ribbed wooden doors. He was met by an open-mouthed serving girl as he passed through the anteroom. She was of an age with the Emperor, in her early thirties, and dressed in a fitted purple gown embroidered with green stems and fiery rose petals.
“Is he here?” he asked bluntly. The girl stared for a moment before she could close her jaw, then opened it once more upon realising she had been asked a question.
“Lord Inutani is presently in his study, as he is most days. He has devoted himself to his responsibilities since you last met. I suspect your sister’s-”
“Enough,” Toku ordered, then closed his eyes and slowly inhaled. “My apologies, Minami. It is unbecoming of me to insult another in their own home.”
“There is no insult, my lord.” Minami set aside her dusting cloth upon a glass display case that was filled with several rough chunks of metal and wood that didn’t appear to be particularly remarkable. Anything that looked to have a purposeful form had been long disfigured by time. Lin peered at the accompanying description plate, a polished slate of bronze that read ’Remnants of the Lost Layer’.
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“The Lost Layer?” she echoed. Minami’s eyes flicked toward her.
“It was the sixth level of Keisato, and nearly dragged the entire town with it when the floor collapsed into the bottom of the ravine. The case holds some of the fragments that have been recovered over the years through fishing the chasm, if you were curious. Lord Inutani curated these particular artifacts himself.”
“Speaking of whom, would you be so kind as to escort us to the Daimyō?” Toku asked. “There are pressing matters I wish to discuss with him.”
Minami stepped away from the display case and half-bowed, “It would be a pleasure, Lord Naga.”
Led up a flight of white-carpeted stairs, they crossed a corridor with walls decorated in landscape embroidery and hanging banners with the same eel insignia that had been displayed on the lanterns outside. Minami paused briefly, announcing her presence for all to hear.
The private study of Daimyō Inutani was tired. It was not messy through a lack of care or attention, everything was fairly clean, rather the bleak tiredness stemmed from the reasoning behind that very cleanliness. Thick leather-bound history books were stacked upon shelves in perfect order, unblemished by dust that had never been given the opportunity to settle. Slim shafts of light slipped through the gaps between the white blinds over the room’s solitary window and fell upon a low table in the centre of the room that was covered with several piles of neatly organised paperwork. The only object that might have served as a decoration was a handheld lantern that sat squarely in the middle of the table, so devoid of ash that Lin could only believe it had never been lit.
“So often have I told you that nothing disturbs my work quite as much as foreign smells, Minami. Now you come to me with a band of particularly pungent strangers.” With his back turned, Lord Inutani set his ballpoint pen in a shallow container alongside a thin inkbrush. “In regards to that, I believe you will have a particularly significant reason for visiting me. Or perhaps you have finally enlisted the help of the refugees to depose me of my Daimyō’s cushion?”
“I would not make so great a leader, my lord, though if I were to overthrow you, I would make certain to find a comfier chair,” Minami replied unwaveringly. The Daimyō laughed once and turned away from the table to face his visitors. His attire was as orderly as his study, all neat and uniform. A large black cloak covered most of his body, loosely fitted but secured tightly with two belts across his torso. His low silken dress reached just short of his socks, both white and embroidered with intricate blue patterns. The creases in the man’s face deepened as he set eyes upon the Emperor of Sen.
“Tokugawa.”
“Seiichi.”
Whatever peacefulness that Minami had managed to instil within Lord Inutani quickly dissipated as each of the two men stiffened at the presence of the other. Lin adjusted her weight uncomfortably, casting a glance at Fuu and Yu, both still lurking beside the shōji.
“I cannot say I expected you to return to Keisato after seeing the forceful rage you demonstrated during your last visit,” Inutani remarked, leaning back against the edge of his table.
“I cannot say I intended to return, but circumstances dictate. I’ve come to ask for your help.”
“So in his time away from his basalt throne, the peerless lord has suddenly remembered his constituents. Is that the case, or have you simply come with another selfish request, my lord? Do you now wish to burden me with these others? Did you fill them with hopes and promises before coming here to abandon them, or was that just a privilege reserved for our dear sister?” Inutani stabbed through gritted teeth.
“Do you find it wise to provoke the weary, Lord Seiichi?” Toku asked. His calm manner seemed to invite peace, but the keen bitterness in his eyes warned of a story far less forgiving. “I merely wish you to answer two of my questions. This town may be rid of me after that.”
Inutani tilted his head and rested an elbow upon the edge of his table. “And out of curiosity, how has my town treated their emperor?”
“With surprising warmth. It was strange, almost uncomfortable, to receive such adoration in place of their usual apprehension.”
“Of course it felt unusual,” the Daimyō laughed. “These are not your people. They have no love for you. No doubt word of your arrival will reach me soon enough through many of those loose-lipped townsmen eager for a reward. Perhaps a few merely hoped for a handout from their charitable Emperor during his rare visit.”
“Or perhaps your cynicism sees the world for you.”
“Words spoken as if coming from an optimist. You may have once fought to protect your family, but that memory of an altruistic hero died when you chose to don the crown of Sen. Spare me the hypocrisy, Tokugawa, ask your questions and go.”
An unamused smile appeared on the Emperor’s lips. “A person of high importance to me appears to have misplaced himself. His name is Sukh Mengu.”
“The esteemed rebel leader.”
“Yes. If you know of his whereabouts, or of any other Won movements within your prefecture, I would ask that you tell me now.”
Inutani’s face shrivelled as if sucking a sour plum. “The refugees left behind by his crusade are overrunning these lands like locusts upon a harvest, but unless he runs with a mob of flea-bitten thieves, I have no inkling of his whereabouts.”
Toku shot a sideways glance at his aide. “Perhaps someone among those refugees will have a more satisfying answer. We'll have to introduce ourselves to them before leaving. Compose a message for Lady Sio.”
Nodding in affirmation, Chiaki brought out a small notebook and pencil from beneath her lacquered armour and began to scribble down a small paragraph.
Toku winced, “A little tidier, please.”
“There was another question,” Inutani pressed on.
“So there was,” agreed Toku, taking a seat on the pinewood flooring. He opened his hand to reveal the grainy wooden ring he had taken from the shopkeeper in the market town. The Daimyō’s brow softened immediately. “Did our sister mean so little to you, Seiichi?”
Inutani straightened up and ran his tongue over his teeth, his eyes never leaving Toku’s palm. Eventually, he placed a hand on the table and pushed himself back onto his feet, instructing his servant to prepare rooms for the visitors.
“That ring was lost because we failed her, you and I both. It might be best for you all to stay the night. Talk takes time.”
“Of which I have little to spare. I’ve preparations to make in Solong before spring comes.”
“A week’s journey at most in this winter weather, but you will run away once more, abandoning even the memory of Seiko. Those scum-sucking bastards pillaged her grave, Tokugawa, do you really intend on letting that go?”
“I should,” Toku grimaced, “But I won’t.”
His fingers closed around the crude ring tightly.
Fleeting spirals of steam rolled off of Lin’s reddened skin and dissipated into the air above, never quite reaching the bracketed underside of Keisato’s highest layer. She exhaled slowly through her nose, lowering herself into the water until all but her upper face was submerged in a cleansing heat. At the other side of the bath, Fuu lay with her head leaning back over the fathomless pit below. Permission for total freedom within the Daimyō’s home had been granted to Toku and his followers for as long as they wished to stay, though Lin had stopped listening after that. Waves of vertigo washed over her whenever her eyes were closed and shook her balance even when she blinked. The warm water soothed her mind however, and eventually her unease began to subside.
Seemingly satisfied, Fuu emerged from the water in a careful and dignified manner. Lin hadn’t meant to look, her eyes flickered errantly toward the woman in reaction to her movement, but once she had caught sight of the inky insignia upon her chest it was impossible to look away.
“That mark- what is it?” she asked. Fuu glanced down briefly, then draped an arm across her sweat-laced breasts.
“A gift of the misguided,” the woman answered. “I do not know how much you remember before what happened at the shrine, but I would ask that you avoid talking to me whenever possible for your own good. Trust Lord Naga. He promised your mother that he would do everything he can to protect you until she returns.”
“I’m trying, but it’s difficult. It's as if in my mind, everything outside of this valley feels like it’s… smeared, trapped behind the rage of an impassable blizzard. What happened to me?”
“If I were to tell you now, the nightmare would come to life once again,” Fuu replied, faltering. “I truly am sorry. I can do nothing to help.” Lowering her head and clutching at the unusual mark on her chest, she swiftly made for the changing room, leaving Lin alone in the Daimyō’s bath. Lin sighed, allowing herself to slide even deeper into the steaming water until her head was completely submerged. The surrounding warmth enveloped her bare body like the embrace of a loving mother. Despite its incredible heat, Lin felt completely at ease. Her only sense in that moment was the water's scorching touch that overwhelmed even her most basic thoughts. For that time at least, there was no need to fret, no concerns to weigh upon her mind so heavily as they always did. There was only Lin and the rejuvenating warmth of the water, and after a while, even that sensation seemed to fade away into nothingness.
The silhouette of another stood watch at the water’s edge when Lin finally resurfaced. She squinted in an attempt to see through the blurriness of the water over her eyes to no avail. Still unsure, she chose to hazard a guess.
“Chiaki?”
The stranger did not reply. Looking a little more carefully, the person was too tall to be either Fuu or Chiaki. Lin rubbed her eyes, slightly unnerved, and continued to blink until she could see clearly again. And then she shrieked.
The shape had been a man, middle aged, his single eye like a black marble that examined Lin’s naked body with great curiosity. A dishevelled fisherman’s coat hung upon his shoulders and a cloth bucket hat upon his short, scraggly hair that cast a shadow over his face. Covering one eye was a grey scarf, thin and ragged. Lin scrambled to reach the far side of the bath and found herself immediately trapped at the edge of the sudden plunge of Keisato’s ravine. She released an involuntary whimper, crossing her arms over her bare chest and submerging herself lower into the water.
“Who are you?!” she cried in desperation, and only then did her spectator begin to speak. His words reverberated roughly within his throat as if two voices were talking at once.
“The last of your time trickles through your fingers, and here you laze, taking comfort in another’s home. Idleness will win you no worthwhile prize.”
Lin said nothing, fearfully clutching at her arms.
“Though… perhaps there should first be some words of explanation. Sio Ko’s mental manipulation is clearly not an easy thing from which to wake. Very well. All living creatures inherit the right to their individual identity. You were born as a human, that is who you were, and it was how you lived until your individuality was taken from you. Your mixed blood has enrolled you, willingly or otherwise, into a role quite inhuman. As it begins its maturation, the aspect of Heaven is a treasure infinitely valuable to the splinters of Xia’an. You are becoming a prime target.”
Shaky words parted Lin’s lips, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
The man nodded slowly. “Then I shall state things clearly. Sio’s blood is beginning to awaken within you. Do not linger. Not here, nor anywhere else. The demon you unleashed upon Yangwa is only the first of the abhorrent horde that will pursue you, and it is closer now than ever. Find Sio Ko, for the sake of us all.” With that, the man simply turned and started for the door.
“Who are you?” Lin repeated with the last of her confidence.
“I am a part of you now, just as I am a part of many others. This form is how you remember another of my hosts. There was a time not long ago that he gave you his name, when you were still in the company of your mother. He was named Shōren.” The man raised the brim of his hat with a finger and thumb. “Gather whatever remains of your mind and compose yourself. You can hide behind comforts, but your life will not be any easier from here on out. I will protect you with all my strength, and that strength will not be enough. Weakness is no longer acceptable should you wish to survive.” Seemingly finished, he lowered his hat once more and cut through the rear entrance of Daimyō Inutani’s home, leaving Lin to wonder how he had ever managed to infiltrate the building. She hurriedly dried herself and redressed into her miko robe before setting out in pursuit.