Grandfather Kahenan woke him some time later and handed him a steaming bowl of fried rice with crunchy greens mixed in. “You passed my test.”
Turesobei smiled numbly and ate.
“You really should learn to pace yourself, though,” he said with a mischievous smile. “You will not be young and vibrant forever.”
* * *
Turesobei joined his sister and grandfather at the Dairen Pavilion for a quiet breakfast. Enashoma was sad he was leaving. He tried to reassure her, but it didn't do much good. Enashoma was almost a copy of their mother—looks, voice, and mannerisms—except that where Wenari was harsh and critical, Enashoma was sweet and caring. She was incredibly perceptive and Turesobei often thought that she might be smarter than him. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, especially her.
Afterward, Turesobei ran off to say goodbye to Awasa before getting his gear packed and ready to go. He found her sitting beneath the shade of an oak. Her guardians were standing thirty paces away: a baojendari attendant named Marumi and a zaboko guard named Zaiporo who was Turesobei’s age. Marumi liked Turesobei and never gave him any trouble. She was always kind enough to give them as much privacy as possible. Zaiporo had just begun his duties. Though he was too young for the role, it was traditional for his family to guard the members of Awasa’s family, and his older brothers had all died.
Awasa was embroidering daisies onto a crimson sash. He approached nervously.
“Good morning, Awasa.”
She shot him a look of contempt then looked back to her craftwork. “It was good.” He admired her beauty and fidgeted while she ignored him. Finally she looked back up at him. “Well, what is it?”
“I'm off today.” Awasa shrugged. “I'm setting off today on an expedition with my father.”
“I know about your trip.”
“I'm going to be gone for at least three months.”
“So?”
“Well, I…uh…I thought you might miss me.”
“Nope.”
Turesobei grew exasperated. “Wakaro is wild and dangerous. I could get killed there.”
“Why should I care?”
“Because you should! Because we're betrothed!”
A sly smile slid across her face. “We won't be if you get killed, though, will we?”
All his dreams of a parting kiss or hug or even a tender goodbye crashed around him. Turesobei stammered in frustration, blew out his breath with a phew, and turned to stamp away.
“By the way, Turesobei. Perhaps you should ride in the sun on the way there, you're looking pale.”
“We're going by ship. And I look pale because I nearly died from poison a few days ago, and last night I scripted eight spells in a row.”
“Okay. Whatever.”
Turesobei began to stalk away but decided to give it one last try. “I'll send you a letter if I get the chance and tell you what I've seen.”
“I won't read it,” she said. “Goodbye now.”
Sulking, Turesobei ambled back home to get a few more of his things he’d left the day before. He carefully avoided his mother, who was yelling at one of the servants. Enashoma was waiting for him in his room. She had promised to help him pack.
“What's wrong, Sobei?” Enashoma asked as she rolled up his spare clothes and placed them into his backpack. “If I were you, I'd be excited. I wish I could go.”
Turesobei smiled dimly. “I wish you could too, Shoma. I'm just down because of Mother and—”
“Awasa again?”
He nodded. “She doesn't care that I'm going off and might get killed and never come back. She didn't even say goodbye.”
Enashoma huffed and thrust a shirt down into Turesobei’s backpack. Her eyes blazed a brighter green and her round cheeks turned red. “That little witch! I'll show her!”
“Oh, please don't. That would be embarrassing.”
“Why?”
Turesobei shrugged helplessly. “Just because.”
She eyed him dubiously.
“Promise you won't.”
“Only if she doesn't cross my path anytime soon.” Enashoma shoved another shirt into the backpack. “I don't know why you keep trying to befriend her.”
“What choice do I have? Besides….” Turesobei struggled for the right words to express his complex feelings about Awasa, but he could never find them.
“I know. You like her but you don't know why. All the boys do. I don't understand it. She's pretty but that's about it. I told Mother so. I told her you deserved a better match.”
“That won't get me anywhere. Mother thinks Awasa is wonderful, a goddess nearly.”
“That's exactly what she said to me.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway. The King blessed the arrangement, and I think he would have picked Awasa himself if Mother hadn’t.”
Enashoma frowned and shook her head. “I'm so sorry, Sobei, but Awasa seems just like our mother. You may have to become like Father. I wouldn't blame you if you did.”
“Maybe she'll change.”
“Mother said I should try harder to be like Awasa so that I'll be more popular. That way I’ll get a better marriage.”
Turesobei hugged her. “Don't ever do that, Shoma. Promise me you won’t.”
She giggled. “No worries there. I couldn't care less what people think about me.”
“You're lucky, you know, not having an intended anymore.”
“That's an awful thing to say!”
“It's not our fault he died.”
“Well, no. But it's still bad karma to say things like that.” Enashoma finished packing his clothes. “Besides, Mother or King Ugara will find one for me sooner or later, and I certainly won't get any say in it. You're the lucky one. You're going on an adventure. And everything will be better once you're back. You'll see.”
“I don't know how you stay so positive.”
“I take after Grandfather that way.”
Turesobei shouldered his backpack. “That makes sense. Nothing ever rattles him. Come on, you can see me off.”
“What about Mother?”
“If she wants to say goodbye, she'll come. If not, well, that's her loss.”
Enashoma frowned but didn't argue. The two of them sneaked out of the house and ran to the tower where Kahenan and Noboro waited with a train of mounts and two dozen zaboko soldiers.
Chapter Thirteen
Packs of supplies weighted down all the denekon, but the reptilian mounts didn't seem to mind. As they waited for their riders, they scratched at the ground with their clawed feet and flicked long purple tongues across their thick snouts, moistening their nostrils. Though fully adult, they were young mounts with dark green scales. Not aging with autumn-hued scales, like those Turesobei had learned to ride on.
The Riding Master smiled at Turesobei, which was a first because he was usually irritated with him, and pointed to a mount in the midst of the line. Turesobei added the rest of his things to the saddle pack on the denekon. A double-lidded eye flicked back at him.
“Iyei,” said the Riding Master, naming the denekon.
Turesobei leaned over and whispered in the beast’s recessed ear, “Iyei, my friend, be well.” By tradition, one always said this to a denekon before riding it, especially the first time. Why? Turesobei didn’t know. He then rubbed the beast under its chin, where its large scales were softest, almost like leather. The denekon’s eyelids drooped and it made a purring snort.
Turesobei went over to where his grandfather and father stood talking to one another in hushed tones.
Grandfather Kahenan held his white-steel longsword out toward Noboro. “Take Yomifano with you.”
Noboro's eyes widened. “I couldn't!”
Kahenan shoved the curved sword into his hands. “I insist.”
“But you may need it in defending the clan. It’s too valuable.”
Kahenan patted a scabbarded sword hanging from his sash. It was nearly identical to Yomifano except that it was only a third as long. �
�I have my short-sword. It will do in a pinch.”
Noboro brushed his fingers along Yomifano's ornate wooden scabbard. “I couldn't take this sword from you. It’s pure white-steel. The other is not.” White-steel was so rare and precious that the clan had only four swords made purely of the metal. And that was three more than most clans had.
“Please, son. I wish I could go with you, but I cannot. This is the best I can do to protect you and Sobei.”
Noboro sighed and bowed deeply. “I will guard it wisely and return it to you as soon as I can.” He took Yomifano and drew it. He angled the long-sword in the sunlight. The blade gleamed like steel except that it was white, almost like silvery bleached paper.
“Now,” said Kahenan. “Give Sumada to Sobei.”
Turesobei staggered back a step. “What?! Really?”
Noboro grinned. “A wizard does need a white-steel blade.”
He handed it to Sobei who quickly fixed the scabbard to his belt and drew the blade. It was paler than regular steel but not nearly as white as Yomifano. Sumada, they thought, was half regular steel and half white-steel. It was hard to be sure. Though they had developed the techniques, the art of crafting white-steel items was lost to the baojendari.
“I will want it back when we return.”
“Of course.” Turesobei artfully slid the short blade back into its scabbard. “And I vow to do the blade honor while I wear it.”
His Father clasped him on the shoulders. “I know you will.”
Then Grandfather Kahenan hugged Turesobei. “Take care, Sobei. Do not summon any demons unless you are desperate. You are not ready for that without my supervision.”
“Yes, Grandfather. I won't let you down either.”
Kahenan winked at him. “You had best not.”
Enashoma ran up and hugged Turesobei.
Turesobei lifted her, swung her around, and kissed her on the cheek. “Be good, Little Blossom.”
She winced when he spoke her nickname. “You come back safely,” she said. “And have fun.”
“I promise, and I will write you if I get the chance.”
Noboro hugged Enashoma and mounted his denekon. Turesobei followed his lead. “What's all this on my mount?” he asked, gesturing at the rather large packs strapped behind the end of the saddle.
“Your armor and weapons,” Noboro said.
“Oh, of course,” he said, blushing. He hadn't even thought to get them from the armory.
Grandfather Kahenan handed him a short bow and a quiver full of brightly fletched arrows. “They are all new. I purchased them for you yesterday.”
Turesobei bowed his head. “Thank you, Grandfather. This is wonderful.”
“You are quite welcome. Be sure to don your armor once you leave Chonda lands.”
Noboro flicked his mount's reins. “Hai!” he called, and the group moved forward.
Turesobei waved to his grandfather and sister until they were out of sight. As they exited through the east gate and rode into Outer Ekaran, he thought for a moment that he saw Awasa watching from one of the high windows of her home. But he couldn't be sure. He shrugged and decided to leave her and all the weight of home behind.
Chapter Fourteen
After a half-day of riding, they reached Dakanuru, the primary Chonda port on the winding Taba River. There, they boarded a barge and traveled downriver toward Batsa, the capital city of Batsakun which occupies the northeast corner of Okoro.
After three days, they reached Batsa, purposefully arriving at night. Not wanting to be seen, they cut through poorly lit alleys and raced down lesser-known streets until they came upon the back of a small estate with an exquisite garden, a full stable, and a manse constructed in the old style—brightly colored tiles on the outer walls, a high-arched roof, and great oak doors painted vermilion.
Secret words were whispered over the wall. Moments later, the back gate creaked open and Turesobei rode in along with all the others.
“People will figure out I’m here,” Noboro told the guards who met them. “But let’s make it take as long as possible.”
This was only Turesobei’s second visit to this remote Chonda estate. Most of the family had little need for it. But its presence was necessary because as King of Ekaran Province, Chonda Ugara served as a member of the Ruling Council of Batsakun, which formulated many laws and elected the High King of Batsakun.
Here, Turesobei would spend the next several nights while his father acquired the ship and crew he needed for their expedition.
* * *
The next morning, after a much-deserved night of rest and a full breakfast, Turesobei searched the estate for his father. But he was nowhere to be seen. He did, however, spot Captain Fodoru preparing to ride out into the city.
Along the way to Batsa, Turesobei had gotten to know several of the zaboko soldiers with them rather well, especially their commander, whom he had known for years without ever spending more than a few minutes at a time in his company. Captain Fodoru had a sharp mind and an eloquent voice. He could recite entire volumes of poetry. Turesobei had marveled at this, but Fodoru had laughed and told him that the zaboko had always memorized poetry rather than publishing it in books.
Captain Fodoru worked directly with Turesobei’s father and went on every expedition with him. The two could talk of their adventures for hours on end. But Turesobei didn’t really know him because when they would return, Fodoru would say hello and then go to his home to spend time with his family, whom Turesobei suspected missed him as much as he and Enashoma missed Noboro.
“Captain Fodoru!” he cried as he ran toward the stables.
Fodoru paused and frowned. “Yes, my lord?”
“Do you know where my father is?”
“Yes, but you cannot go out into the city to see him. Sorry, my lord.”
“How do you know that I can’t?”
“Your father wouldn’t allow it, my lord.”
“Did he tell you this?”
“No, my lord,” Fodoru said with a grin. “But it is what he would say, is it not?”
“You don’t know that.”
“After all these years I’ve been traveling with your father, danger after danger…trust me. He would not let you out. Not on this trip. If you fell into enemy hands you would be a bargaining piece. Or dead.”
Turesobei started to speak but Fodoru interrupted. “Don’t make this harder on everyone, my lord, including yourself. Have I not accompanied your father for all your life? You know enough of me to know that I wouldn’t mislead you.”
“That’s enough with the my lord stuff. You don’t have to say it to Father, you don’t have to say it to me.”
Fodoru nodded sincerely. “Thank you for the honor.”
“You really think it’s that dangerous?”
“Your father and I have never before been in as much danger as we are in now. I’m shocked that he let you come along.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe you can. I heard about the assassin. Just be sure you don’t think too highly of your skills. A bit of bad luck can take down even the best warrior.”
Fodoru took up the reins of his denekon. “Sorry, but I have to leave now. Stay here. Don’t try anything silly. Just be patient. You will have plenty of new sights and experiences to enjoy soon. I promise.”
* * *
Returning to his room at the manse, Turesobei pulled the diary from his satchel and summoned Lu Bei. The fetch stretched, flew a circle around the room, and then sat on a table, dangling his feet over the edge.
“Well, master?” he asked. “What do you need?”
“Nothing really. I was just lonely. I can’t leave the house until we’re ready to set sail. And there’s no one here except servants and the standard house guards.”
The fetch pumped his fist high into the air. “Then we shall chat!”
“I’d like that,” said Turesobei with a chuckle. “You know, I still don’t know that much about you.”
/> “Ask, and I shall make it known!”
“Alright. Let’s get to business first. We could be facing danger, so what can you do? Do you have any special powers?”
“Like spells or tricks? No, master, I do not. I can remember everything you tell me. I have wings. And I have a nasty bite.”
“Right. Yeah. I’ve seen that.”
Lu Bei shrugged sheepishly. “It is all you gave me, master.”
“It is all Chonda Lu gave you.”
“Of course, master. You—” He spotted the scowl on Turesobei’s face and flinched. “I mean, Chonda Lu thought it unwise to have his diary fighting in battles. But back then I could turn invisible for a short while. Well, not invisible but camouflaged so perfectly that I was practically invisible. I was like that up until you found me because of an old spell that I can’t tell you about. Just sleeping and waiting for the spell to run out.”
“Okay. I won’t ask,” Turesobei said. “So you can’t turn invisible anymore?”
“No, master. You are not powerful enough for that. I can only draw enough energy to be as I am now. And only just. If you had me out during a fight, I’d only weaken you.”
Lu Bei danced across the table and touched Turesobei’s hand. “I am very sorry that I cannot defend you, master.”
Moved by the concern on the fetch’s little face, Turesobei patted him on the head. “I do not need a guardian. You will record all that is seen and heard, and I will be grateful.”
“Thank you, master.”
“You don’t have to call me master.”
“I am a summoning. It would be inappropriate for me to call you by your common name.” He stood tall, at least as tall as he could, and placed his hands on his hips. “I will call you Turesobei only if you make me, but I won’t like it.”
“Okay, okay. I won’t make you.”
Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3 Page 8