Brave Story (59 page)

“Most of the single-family houses are a block farther to the south from here,” Pam explained. As they walked, residents would stop and say hello, or wave. “There are quite a few mansions there. Craftsmen and merchants who’ve made their fortunes enjoy living in this part of town. A lot of them have second homes in Lanka too. Quite fancy, though. You’ll be impressed, I’m sure.”

They were indeed impressive. Wataru was reminded of the residences of prime ministers and presidents he had seen in the real world (all on television, of course).

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” Pam asked, as proud as if they had been his own. “The streets are safe too. That’s why I’ll have you patrolling this area until you’re more familiar with the town.”

“You sure it’s okay to have me and Meena walking here?” Kee Keema asked innocently. “Looks like only ankha live here.”

Wataru and Meena exchanged glances, but the chief didn’t seem to notice. He put his hands on his hips and laughed out loud.
A little too loud,
Wataru thought.

“Nothing to be worried about! You’re Highlanders. And there are other races in this part of town.” Pam smiled broadly, and then reluctantly added, “Mostly servants,” through his teeth. “Shall we trace your route back, now? Once you’ve gone both ways you’re sure to remember it.”

They were walking back through the communal dwellings when Kee Keema, in the rear, gave a sharp yelp. “Yowch!”

Something fell from the side of his head to the ground by his feet. The chief made to pick it up, but Meena was quicker. Her tail snaked out and around the object.

“What’s this? It’s sharp!” Meena said, transferring the object from her tail to her fingers. “A chunk of rock?”

It was a semi-translucent, pointy rock about the size of a large coin. It must have been thrown hard to get a yelp out of the thick-skinned waterkin. If its target had been Meena or Wataru, they might’ve been seriously wounded.

“Grrr…who did that?” Kee Keema’s shoulders were tensed as he looked around at the windows of the nearby communal dwellings. “That’s a nasty prank throwing rocks down at people…and if it’s a fight they want, they sure are cowards!”

Wataru grew suddenly worried. He couldn’t see anyone in the nearby windows. But what if whoever threw that was hiding, waiting for another chance? What if the next rock hit Meena?

“Kee Keema, let’s go.”

“Right. We’ve taken our time. We should hurry up,” Pam said, his leisurely tone at odds with his words. He almost sounded amused. “Don’t worry about it—probably just some kids having a prank.”

Kee Keema, hands on his hips, looked down at the chief. Seeing them stand together, Wataru realized he towered over the short, balding man. “Maybe it was meant as a prank, but that rock could’ve seriously hurt someone! I don’t think you can just let something like this slide, chief.”

“On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t patrol this area,” the chief said, his expression perfectly still. “You and the girl here are a rare sort in these parts, I’ll admit. You draw attention—especially from children. I’m sure they don’t mean ill by it, but kids will be kids, and you can’t catch them all. I know, I’ll assign you two to Bricklayer Street. There are plenty of non-ankha down there.”

After breakfast the next morning at the branch, Pam took Wataru out for morning patrol.

The night before, Wataru, Kee Keema, and Meena had decided to play along with the chief for the moment. Determined to talk to the people on Bricklayer Street, Meena was hoping to hear actual incidents where Chief Pam had placed the blame on someone or refused to take up a case because the victim had been a non-ankha.

“Be careful, though,” Kee Keema had warned her. “We don’t have many friends in this town. Wouldn’t want to get into trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Meena had confidently replied. “I’ll be fine.”

For his part, Wataru decided to follow Pam’s schedule as closely as possible, all the while looking for opportunities to get a glimpse of the hidden Lyris beneath its polished veneer of happy prosperity.

As they walked, Pam asked Wataru about himself. He was keeping the fact that he was a Traveler secret, so many of the questions were difficult to answer.
I was born in Nacht. My parents ran a lodge in Gasara, but they died of illness soon after I was born. I was taken in by the branch and raised by the branch chief
. Wataru had heard about Kutz taking in lost children and orphans at the branch in the past. Now he was one of them.

“That’s how you’ve become such an accomplished Highlander at such a young age,” Chief Pam said, smiling. “Ankha children sure are outstanding, I’ve always thought. Smart, and brave.”

“I don’t know,” said Wataru, “I’ve never felt particularly brave.”

The chief laughed. “If that were the case, you’d never have made the trip from Gasara to here. Particularly not with that
baggage
of yours slowing you down.”

Wataru didn’t realize that when the chief said “baggage,” he was talking about Kee Keema and Meena. Momentarily confused, Wataru smiled vaguely.

Then the meaning of the chief’s words sunk in, and the smile froze on his face.

Pam was watching him out of the corner of his eye. His mouth was smiling beneath eyes cold as ice. “You’re a smart kid. The kind who knows when to take the advice of his elders,” he said, waving to a shopkeeper along the side of the road. He spoke low, without moving his mouth, so that only Wataru could hear. “I can’t say I approve of such an outstanding ankha Highlander being too friendly with waterkin, kitkin, and their sort. Though I suppose with all the folks going in and out of Gasara such an arrangement wouldn’t stand out so much.”

“It stands out here?”

“Aye. You remember the rock that hit that waterkin yesterday?”

“The one you said was a prank?”

The chief opened his eyes exaggeratedly wide. “Oh, it was a prank, to be sure. A child’s prank. Children, you see, are honest…straight. They can tell the good from the bad better than we can sometimes.”

Pam smiled smugly, as if to say,
You know what I mean
. Wataru felt the bile rise in his throat.

“I was wondering if we could visit the cathedral?” he said, stifling his rising anger. “I would like to see the statue of this spirit of beauty, Cistina.”

“Of course, of course!”

The chief didn’t take Bricklayer Street to the cathedral. After returning to the town center, they took a wide detour through parts of the city Wataru hadn’t seen yet. Their alternate route served only to reinforce what Wataru already knew: that conditions on Bricklayer Street were far worse than on other streets. And that the cathedral stood like a giant, arrogant overlord, looking down on the slums.

Seen from the front, the cathedral reminded Wataru of the churches in the
Saga
games, with its stone walls and round columns. Stained glass in the windows depicted a barefoot maiden with long hair and flowing robes—Cistina, Wataru reasoned. She was shown running across a grassy field, or playing a lute, or cooling her feet in a spring, or holding up a burning torch before kneeling believers.

The churches in the games he had played didn’t have a particular religion, but there was always a kindly priest who, at various points in the game, would teach the players valuable holy magic—he was even kind enough to heal the entire party! Wataru wondered how the cathedral in Lyris would measure up.

Seen from this close, its beauty was certainly impressive. It looked like the epitome of what a cathedral should be. If a hundred children had been asked to describe a cathedral, this is the kind of building they would describe. It was perfect.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Branch Chief Pam asked, breathing out through his nose. “Officially, it’s called the Cistina Trabados Cathedral. Trabados is an old name for this area, you see. The fairy Cistina was said to have been born from a spring coming out of the ground near here. When she carried a handful of water from that spring to the Goddess, the Goddess was so pleased she asked her to join her and stand at her side.

“It really is beautiful,” Wataru said. “But don’t you think the Goddess would be jealous of such a magnificent cathedral being built for Cistina alone?”

“I think not. Why, the Tower of Destiny where the Goddess lives is surely a hundred, or even a thousand times more magnificent than this,” the chief replied. “The Goddess probably forbade the building of cathedrals to her because she didn’t think the many races she made capable of building anything sufficiently grand enough in the first place.”

The way he said it made it sound like he didn’t think much of the Goddess and her creations. At least not all of them.

“Shall we have a look inside? Get ready to be even more surprised!”

When they pushed open the great doors and walked inside the cathedral, it was like stepping into a sea of multicolored light. Sunlight coming in through the stained glass windows filled the cathedral, washing over Wataru.

On either side of the central aisle were set rows of pews for the faithful to sit while they prayed. At the end of the aisle sat an altar beneath a window of particularly brilliant stained glass. Before the altar stood a stone carving of Cistina. Fresh-cut flowers were heaped in a pile at the statue’s feet.

Here and there, young people sat with heads bowed. A few elderly sat in the pews, quietly reading from books. Walking softly so as not to make noise, Wataru walked up to the altar and examined the statue.

She was a maiden with long hair and a perfect face, wearing a robe with long sleeves and skirts. In her right hand was a scepter set with a gemstone. Her left hand gripped the handle of a mirror held upward toward the sky. The sleeve of her robe fell down almost to her elbow.

“That mirror reflects that which is beautiful and that which is ugly in every man’s heart,” the chief explained. “The scepter in her right hand serves to smite down those who would destroy beauty.”

Wataru took another step forward, his eyes going over the statue from head to toe—when he noticed something about her feet. Though it was hard to see through all the flowers, Cistina was definitely not standing upon the ground. Her surprisingly heavy-duty sandals were standing on something, or someone.

Wataru knelt and moved aside the flower stems. Looking up at him was the face of a waterkin.
That looks just like Kee Keema!
His expression was twisted in pain. Just behind him, a beastkin reminding Wataru of Trone lay in repose, his head tilted back, his mouth an agonized grimace.

The stone Cistina was treading on their faces, crushing their chests. Wataru abruptly stood. Pam put a hand on his shoulder from behind. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Almost at the same time, another voice from the right of the altar said, “Branch Chief Pam! So good to see you here.” An elderly man in white robes carrying a silver scepter much like the one the statue held stepped toward them.

“I was remiss in not saying hello sooner,” the chief said. “This is Father Diamon. He’s the most important man in the cathedral.”

Father Diamon smiled brightly and returned the bow. He stood straight as a rail, his wide shoulders and clear eyes sparkling beneath bushy white eyebrows. His perfectly round head was smooth and hairless. Wataru felt overwhelmed. No matter how old this man looked, he certainly wasn’t old inside. Wataru sensed something in him—a fierce spirit. It was almost savage.

“Important? No, not at all. I merely do my best to humbly serve our Lady Cistina.”

“Of course, of course,” Pam said with a smile.

“I see we have a visitor,” Father Diamon said, looking at Wataru. His gaze was cool, calculating, just like the look Pam had given Wataru before.

When the chief introduced Wataru, the priest seemed quite surprised. “To become a Highlander at so young an age, that’s impressive indeed! I thought surely you’d come for an apprenticeship with one of our craftsmen.”

“Wataru is searching for a friend of his. He did say he wanted to visit Toni Fanlon’s workshop, of course, but I’d feel embarrassed for the town if he went away thinking we were all like that strange fellow.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Fanlon…” Father Diamon held the tip of his scepter to his forehead and shook his head. “Few craftsmen are so loved by our Lady Cistina. Fewer still reject her blessings so vehemently as he does.”

Words bubbled up in Wataru’s throat.
Come on, say it. Say it!
Wataru swallowed and looked back up at the statue of Cistina. “Her face looks a bit like Ms. Elza.”

Pam dissolved into laughter. “Well, that’s sacrilegious of you to say, but I can’t say I’m not pleased.”

“Elza is a rare beauty,” Father Diamon added. “I would not be surprised if she turned out to be Cistina reborn.”

“I don’t know about that,” Wataru continued. “Elza is very kind—not only to me, but to Kee Keema and Meena too. Not like Cistina here at all.”

Wataru let the words stream out. A moment too late, he shut his mouth. The chief and priest were giving him looks that made him feel as if the temperature had dropped by about twenty degrees. But the two were still smiling.

“I should be leaving,” Wataru said with a crisp bow.

As he walked out through the front doors of the cathedral, the bell in the great tower began to toll. Each deep ring reverberated in his stomach, like someone high above was casting the sounds down at him, trying to crush him with their weight. Wataru put his hands over his ears, and left without once looking back.