Nara

by M. L. Buchman

  Jaron’s suffering turned to wonder. Such beauty was a rare gift. Jaron took a deep, full breath. Sorrow was not a part of the life of a wild parrot. And he decided it would not be his either.

  As the sky faded toward night, the bats slid out of the canopy in search of their nightly feast of insects. His parrots began to settle and roost. He slid back down to the platform and swung once more into the safety of the crotch of the tree below; tying off his harness. The great scarlet macaw landed quite near and settled, into preening its blue and yellow wing feathers as if Jaron were no more an intruder than another parrot.

  As the light failed, he slid the golden ring onto his middle finger and curled his fist against his chest. The bird tucked its head beneath its wing and slept.

  Chapter 5

  Suz rammed her crampon into the snow and forced herself to take another step. Breathe twice, step once. Right foot. Breathe twice, step left foot.

  What idiot idea had placed her up on this ridge? Need to prove yourself, Suz. Need to prove to meek little Suzie that anything was possible.

  Breathe twice, right foot.

  Prove that even the highest mountain in the world could be climbed one step at a time. That nervous, cowering woman had blocked her every move with caution. She blocked Suz’s every decisive action with enough inner fear and sufficient trepidation to bury a wooly mammoth.

  At least a mammoth would have more sense than to be up over the Hillary Step of Mount Everest. A mammoth would have taken oxygen as well. But no, not Suz, the inner voice complained. No, she had no sense of proceeding with proper care and foresight.

  Suz shook her head to clear it. She was well into the zone where brain cells were dying by the millions each minute. Maybe a few of Suzie’s worried synapses would be among those to go. She blinked her eyes again and looked down at her feet. They were planted firmly in the crusty snow. Neither of them was moving.

  The last long ridge to the top stretched before her like a launching sling aimed at the impossibly blue-black sky. The old passenger jets barely flew this high. Her feet were convinced they weren’t going to go up one more step.

  Suz wrenched the right foot free and placed it upslope. Using the ice axe like a cane, her right fingers frozen into a permanently firm grip about its head, she wrenched the left foot free and moved it beyond its companion.

  Breathe once, right. Breathe once, left.

  Alone on the top of the world. The nearest climber fought her own battle many crags behind. On this mountain, such a distance placed her in her own world of pain and hypoxia. Of breathless cold and biting wind. Of stark beauty so powerful it could crush you and toss you a thousand meters to your death and never flinch.

  She glanced over her shoulder, but no one was in sight. And the Hillary Step was barely ten paces behind. A quick glance at her watch showed that those ten steps had cost her half an hour of mental aberration.

  Once again her feet were planted firmly in the snow like rooted pillars that had grown there since the birth of the world. She ripped the left one free and forced her body uphill. She’d crawl the last ridge as Hillary and Tenzing had so long ago if she had to.

  Think of something else. Set the body into mechanical motion and think of something else.

  Her data-gathering structure was complete. As complete as any evolving system could be. It had taken six painstaking months to isolate and tap most of the gathering and monitoring systems.

  Left. Breathe once. Right.

  She’d learned that there really were no secrets from someone with a sufficiently elevated password, a bit of skill, and a lot of perseverance. Another half-year had been needed to filter all the chaff and train the gathering system that had an avalanche-like desire to inundate her with information. She had to repeatedly tune and block data strings. Finally the information she was gathering was down to a nearly comprehensible scale.

  Breathe once. Left.

  The horrors she had uncovered during that time and the year since were frequently unspeakable. World Council President Melissa Chang’s vivisected body lay moments from death for Celia Wirden to discover. Celia had to smother the breathing corpse of her former lover. The next day her cremated remains were honored, dead of a respiratory disorder. Celia had lost some of her flair and style that day. Her white-blond hair had begun to gray and dark rings showed under her eyes. Suz struggled to find some sympathy for the woman, but there was none.

  She shook her left hand fiercely, but there was no feeling. The activity exhausted her and she had to drag more freezing air to burn her nose with its threats of pending frostbite.

  Breathe thrice. Right Foot.

  And her father’s plan for genetic cleansing. The worst wasn’t that his WEC troops had killed over a hundred million in the last two years. The horror was the six hundred million who had been quietly removed over the two decades since the completion of the Second Human Genome Mapping Project. HGMP II had revealed all of the genetic predispositions to asocial behaviors. With his perfect blinders of cause and effect, the Right Hand had been cleansing humanity to create Homo superior, to force humanity over the next evolutionary threshold.

  And he’d kept it secret. He directed the WEC forces through a few carefully selected generals who reported to him and him alone.

  Breathe once. Left.

  And what could she do about it? People were dying out there, some probably criminal, but most not.

  Breathe once. Right. Left. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  That was what had cast her out onto this slope. Two years of research and she had no idea what to do with all of the information she’d gathered. How could she turn the juggernaut that was her father and not be instantly crushed in the process?

  Right. Left. Right. Breathe twice.

  Like the crusty snow crunching beneath her feet, sagging with each step through the frozen outer skin into the softer layers below, she could find no solid ground from which to launch her attacks.

  Maybe that was the problem. She was climbing one step at a time. Not conquering the mountain before it conquered her, but rather conquering the next step.

  Left. Breathe.

  Maybe little changes could solve the bigger problem.

  Right. Breathe.

  Suz had focused on the large problems of the world, murder of world leaders, death of millions.

  Left. Breathe.

  A hundred thousand small steps could conquer a mountain. She just needed to shift her system to find the small steps.

  Suz stumbled to a halt when there was no upward slope on which to place her foot. There was no more up to climb. She turned fully around twice seeking the next ridge to climb, the next bit of glacier, before she discovered there was none.

  The great rounded top of Everest lay beneath her feet. The mountain had submitted and the jagged Himalayas lay spread out before her. Russian Tibet was a cruel array of impassable peaks looking little different from the Indian state of Nepal.

  Once, perhaps twice a year, the everlasting blast of the jet stream didn’t tear at the peak of Everest. Today, in this moment of time, Suz stood at the quiet center of the universe.

  Look, Suzie, use our eyes and look clearly at what we can do. Our father is dangerous, but no more dangerous than this mountain if we go one step at a time. And somewhere, further ahead than we can see, is the clear goal in the calm air. We simply must do what we can until then. And we must be ready to strike when the chance comes, in whatever form it arrives.

  Together, her past and her present, looked out upon the future with new eyes.

  # # #

  “They’re ready, Ri. It’s time.”

  Ri marked her place in the History of Diabutsu-den, the Greatest Temple and placed it back on the shelf that made one wall of her windowed aerie. There was not one thing more she could glean from the book. She’d read the key section a dozen times this
day to have it clear in her head.

  Ri studied the street below. The last of the hunting cadres were headed in for the night. Now it was time for Tancho Cadre to once more break the unwritten rules of Nara and strike on the verge of darkness.

  She slung the harness with her fighting pipe across her back and tapped her forearms together to make sure both knives were in place. She rose in a single fluid motion and slid out through the small gap between bookcase and wall.

  Ninka awaited her there, also dressed lightly in black. With a barely tolerant silence between them they trotted down the two flights of stairs to inspect the assembled hunters. Six of them were lined up by the bolthole, Tinnai herself held the chain of the sacrificial. Her arm had never healed properly from the laceration the night they’d taken the bookstore. It made her a poor hunter, but she was the best guard any cadre could want. And she still led, though she made no comment when Ri had begun taking command of the hunters.

  Ri shrugged it off. Ninka might be an elder, but she didn’t read the histories. She didn’t understand the possibilities.

  Ninka had lined them up with the weakest just one before her rearguard position. Koukou was young to hunt. Ri glanced at Ninka. With the slightest tilt of her head the eldest hunter reminded Ri that she had been little older when she’d led the attack on the bookstore. Ninka had wisdom, Ri could use that, if the girl would let her.

  Ri nodded to acknowledge the choice and moved to the bolthole, grabbing an empty backpack as she passed the pile.

  Tinnai eased the chain and Ri pushed the sacrificial to one side. The Zenbu had lost their winter viciousness with the warmth of the spring, this sacrificial had survived nearly a month. They’d actually taken to feeding him on occasion.

  As soon as she was clear she broke into a fast trot. The others ran to form the line behind her. At the end of the street she turned toward the Kintetsu-Nara Rail Station. She had made a deal with Kintetsu’s chief hunter Kara, no interference. A deal Ninka had despised as weakness because she didn’t understand the power of an ally, no matter how untrustworthy. But every now and then Ri liked to remind Kara of the fighting force she’d face if she broke the pact.

  Without a glance she knew the cadre was in perfect formation, all in black, weapons sheathed but instantly available, the deadly Tancho Cranes. Watch out, Kintetsu, stay clear. She raced the cadre directly toward their weak fortifications. She could practically hear Kara’s pounding heart shouting that the pact was over and her cadre was about to be smashed from the face of the world.

  At the last moment she swung wide of their blocked entrance. They didn’t even have a sacrificial. The Zenbu would not be pleased and it would cost the Kintetsu soon. But the hunters raced on. There was nothing that Kara guarded that Tancho would care about. It would be a waste of effort and perhaps lives to launch such a tempting attack, but Kintetsu was not the enemy. At least not today.

  Two blocks farther she turned east and slowed. Mad Dog Cadre was very protective of their territory. That was why she’d chosen dusk to attack. Mad Dog would have retreated into their bank vault for the evening, and the Zenbu would not be yet walking the streets.

  It was hard to credit the pictures that showed the streets of Nara crowded with the flitters that were now little more than scattered, rusting wrecks and shattered plastoid. She led the hunters wide around several of the larger hulks that Mad Dog sometimes used as a daytime lookout, but the flitters were abandoned now.

  Five blocks later she called a halt and listened. Koukou whispered a question and was instantly hushed by Ninka. She turned her head trying to find even echoes of sounds. Ninka’s quiet steps padded up beside her. Ri wanted to start off again to avoid Ninka’s concern, but that was not the practice of a good leader.

  Using the battle-signs she’d taught the whole cadre, Ninka asked in a none too humble way, “Where are we going? That is Diabutsu-den Cadre over the hill. They are the most dangerous.”

  Ri knew that. Hadn’t she been born in their dungeons? At three, hadn’t she been the little laughing girl who scouted the escape route? At four, hadn’t her own mother died leading the attack that had freed Tinnai, Ninka, and the rest of Tancho? Had she not herself, thrown the torch that destroyed the mighty thatch temple that stories told had stood over the dungeons since before Japan had been Japan?

  She signed a quick, “I know what I’m doing.”

  Ninka bowed and retreated, but she could feel the mistrust written clear in the narrowed eyes. At fifteen, Ri was not stupid enough to attack the mighty Diabutsu-den. At least not head-on.

  She led the cadre across the street and onto the grassy field to the north of the burned-out temple. Each step released a perfume of spring grass that blossomed into the warm air with an intoxicating aroma that made her head spin. If only they could eat grass, but grass soup held no nourishment.

  Ri vaulted over a low stone wall and came to a halt in what should be the heart of the Shōsō-in Temple Repository courtyard. But nothing looked like it did in the books. The hunters quickly gathered beside her as she surveyed the dense brambles that ranged to either side. It was so clear in the pictures. She could close her eyes and see it, but when Ri opened them again it was a tangle.

  She paced from one end of the brush to the other. Ninka’s steps crackled on old leaves and spring growth as she approached. Ri waved her off to no avail.

  “Do you know how close we are to death? Why do you lead us here? The mightiest cadre in Nara is a hundred paces beyond these plants.”

  “Shush. I’m thinking.”

  “You’re lost. And we’re going to die if we stay. Have you noticed the light? The Zenbu will be hunting by the time we get back, even if we leave now.”

  Ri swallowed against a dry throat and tore aside some of the vines. Ninka was right. She tore at another clump, and another.

  And there it was. A squat stone pillar. Shoving branches aside, she struggled into the heart of the dark growth and felt around the base of the pillar. A jammed finger, and she’d located what she was after. She pulled forth an old stone lantern that had once sat on the pillar. Now she knew exactly where she was.

  She struggled free of the clinging branches and their sickly sweet yellow flowers and ran to the left. She struggled and tore at the heavy vines. Ninka’s knives sang out and sliced and cut until a heavy stone wall was revealed. Ri reached into a dark cleft to the right and there was the lever exactly as promised.

  Wrapping her hand firmly about it, she pulled. And it didn’t move. She placed one foot, and then both against the wall and heaved until she thought her heart would burst. She lost her grip and tumbled backwards. Ninka moved in to try and Ri shoved her aside and ignored Ninka’s hiss of anger.

  As she reached in, the end of her jammed finger hit the lever and it moved ever so slightly. She leaned into it and it swung away into the recess. A click echoed up from her finger’s nerves.

  “Push. Push on the wall.”

  The cadre threw themselves against it and the mighty slab swung inward as silently as a moth on the night air. Ri struck a torch and plunged into the darkness. Old statues lined the walls, covered in layer upon layer of dust and old cobwebs.

  A dark stairway led down to the right. The book hadn’t mentioned stairs, but it was the only passage out of the room. She led the hunters downward at a run. Belowground, the passage leveled and ran fifty paces toward the temple.

  A tall wooden door blocked the end of the passage. Ri passed off the torch to eager hands and dropped a knife out of her arm sheath. Probing the edges revealed no traps that she could detect. With a nod from Ninka, she swung the door toward them.

  A wall blocked any farther progress. A loud whimper sounded close behind, and Ri slashed out with her empty hand to silence it. Koukou gasped at the hard blow to her chin and dropped the torch which plunged them all into darkness.

  She found the little girl by tou
ch alone and dragged her to her feet.

  “Would you have us all killed? Go guard the door.”

  Koukou squeaked in protest and Ri hit her again, though not as hard. The girl had to learn discipline. Her feet padded away into the darkness. It was then that Ri noticed pinholes of light shining through the wall blocking the doorway.

  She clicked her fingernails together in a rapid cricket-like manner and Ninka was at her side. Ri tapped her right shoulder and positioned her in the doorway before reaching out a hand.

  The blockage was a hanging cloth. She moved left as Ninka moved to the right around the fabric.

  A circular room of stone was filled with boxes. A weak lantern light flickered against the ceiling and walls. As Ri raised her head, a wild harridan leapt from behind the boxes with a sharpened piece of wood clutched in her hand and aimed at Ri’s heart.

  Ninka’s knife whistled through the air and embedded itself in the woman’s throat moments before Ri’s entered her eye. The gray-haired hag hung still for a moment and then collapsed in a pool of blood.

  Ri shuffled to a door along the far side, but there was no sound from the other side. A quick peek revealed a long, dark corridor. She closed it and signaled a guard to place her ear there.

  Ninka handed her back her knife as she moved to inspect the guard. The woman had a short ankle chain with a lock that connected her to an iron hoop in the floor. Ri had taken the life of Diabutsu-den’s sacrificial. A privilege that belonged to the Zenbu alone.

  The first of the lids creaked back as Ninka inspected the boxes stacked about the room.

  “Ri.” The gasp was filled with a vast excitement and disbelief.

  All the hunters gathered around and stared down into the box. Cans of food were packed solidly side by side. Each box revealed new wonders. Soups. Tomatoes. Something called Chili. Beans. Corn. Sacks of rice. The variety was endless. She had to shush the girls’ excited whispers.