By morning, naturally, I had come to my senses.

It was interesting to learn that I was still capable of such pa.s.sion, of such fire, of such a staggeringly naive belief in ephemera like justice and fairness, that I was capable of feeling--even for a few moments--as if I wanted to do something personally to maintain such things.

Except I wasn't.

It wasn't that I was afraid of dying. Once I had very much been, so much so that it had informed every single thing I did. But during my experiences in Wuin, I had come to something of an "understanding," for want of a better term, in dealing with my own mortality. My innate cowardice had caused me to grab on to life so desperately that it had placed a stranglehold on every other aspect of my existence. Wuin had loosened that stranglehold somewhat.

However, there was still enough of the stubborn b.a.s.t.a.r.d in me that I was not prepared to simply throw my life away. That was the province of heroes. Heroes, as near as I could determine, fell into two categories. Either they had so little regard for their own lives that they didn't care if they died, so long as it was in some heroic fas.h.i.+on. Or else they were so convinced of their own superiority and innate righteousness that they were certain they would overcome whatever challenge lay before them and live tolaugh over the corpses of their enemies.

For my part, I had seen far too many heroes come to unfortunate ends, usually with very surprised expressions on their dying faces. So I had no interest in rus.h.i.+ng headlong into a potentail lethal situation simply for something as pointless as vengeance.

Still, I had been utterly sincere when I'd spoken of seeking revenge in the name of Ali. One of the ways I had survived as long as I had was that I was something of a master of deception. The number of people I had fooled, lied to, outfoxed, outwitted, flimflammed, and cheated was practically legion.

Apparently, not being satisfied with fooling others, I had taken up the ultimate challenge: fooling myself.

And temporarily, I had succeeded. I had convinced myself that I was ready to go charging into the fray, to seek out the b.i.t.c.hes who had killed my teacher and make them pay.

That resolve had lasted for as long as it had taken me to stare long and hard at the ceiling of my hut as the rainstorm, with renewed energy, splattered away on the roof, and realize just how close I had come to being killed by that one woman. And that was just one of them. And I'd been d.a.m.ned lucky. If I went after the Anais Ninjas, I would not only be pressing my luck, I would practically be shoving it through the ground.

Depression swept over me. Depression over my innate weakness, depression over my inability to overcome it. I really, truly wanted to do something to avenge myself upon Ali's a.s.sailants. But simple vengeance had never been sufficient motivation for me to embark on any endeavor, especially if it required putting my own meager existence on the line.

The problem was, I had just made a great show of talking about vengeance to two of the Chins. I had valiantly declared that I was going to dispose of the Anais Ninjas. I had spoken great words. The problem with great words is that they have a habit of spreading. That night, mine spread faster than syphilis at a prost.i.tute convention. Despite the increasing lateness of the hour, despite the foul weather, various members of the village kept showing up the entire night. Each time, the ritual was exactly the same. They would politely knock, come in upon my permission, smile, and bow deeply. Then they'd leave. One after another, sometimes in groups of threes and fours.

They didn't need to say anything. I knew why they were coming by, and they knew I knew. They were mutely thanking me for taking it upon myself to defend the honor of the village and achieve vengeance for the demise of Chinpan Ali.

Which left me wondering what the h.e.l.l I was supposed to do next.

I couldn't just pretend that I hadn't said anything about it. I couldn't back out. They would all think me a coward. Not that I was normally especially worried over what people thought about me, but I couldn't quite bring myself to be dismissive of what the good people of Hosbiyu considered me. I liked them too much. They'd been too good to me.

I had spent my life letting myself down. I was used to it. The thought of letting them down, however, was too much.

Besides, they might be so annoyed that they'd turn against me and I'd wake up one morning to find myself buried out in the wheat field.

By the time the rain stopped and the morning sun rose, I knew I had to leave the village. I had, however, already hit upon a plan. It was not one of my more elaborate schemes, but that was perfectly fine. In this situation, simpler was probably superior.

Hosbiyu was a small, isolated village. In all the time I had been there, such a thing as "news" was nonexistent. None of the villagers ever left town, except for Cleft Chin, who would, every so often, haul the excess wheat to a larger city and exchange it for supplies that were not readily handy. Other than that, the people of Hosbiyu were more or less self-sufficient and knew nothing of what transpired beyond their boundaries.

Which meant that they'd have no idea if I was successful in my quest or not beyond what I told them.

Faced with a problematic situation, I realized upon further consideration that instead I had a win/win scenario on my hands.

I would pack my few belongings and depart. Granted, smuggling out Chinpan Ali's sword was going to be a bit of a challenge, but I was up to it. Once I left, I would simply wander about for as long as seemed a reasonable time. Who knew? Perhaps I would happen upon a situation that was superior to the one I'd initially stumbled into. But if I didn't, then when enough time had pa.s.sed, I would return to Hosbiyu and simply tell the people that I'd done exactly what I'd set out to do. I'd certainly have more than enough time to come up with a good story as to how I'd accomplished it.

I'd make sure it was filled with much derring-do, adventure, and even a bit of tragedy. I'd give myself a sweet young thing who would die pitifully at the eleventh hour trying to save her great love--me, of course. And I'd include an evil villainess who wasn't at all what she appeared. G.o.ds knew I had enough experience with that. And at the end, I would survive all the challenges and leave everyone else in the dust, annihilated. Chinpan Ali would be avenged, and honor would be right.

Even as I mentally congratulated myself, I was appalled at the glee I found in devising a way to bamboozle these people.

It made me wonder how anyone ever felt good about themselves.

I mean, I certainly never did. Oh, on rare occasions there were brief moments of happiness and a sense of self-worth, but such times usually meant that someone was suffering and I was benefiting from it.

At which point, I would loathe myself all the more.

Was I really that different from everyone else in the world? Did they truly toddle through life, filled with good thoughts and an innate sense of their own wonderfulness, and never stare directly into their dark side and recoil from it? Was anyone truly happy? Or were they simply more skilled than I at putting a false face upon their own self-contempt and misery?

After all, virtually everyone I'd ever encountered until coming to Chinpan had been something of a right b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Were they happier than I?

Was anyone? And if so, how did they manage it? Was it that I was entirely too self-aware, or that they were simply oblivious?

I mean, as much as I despised myself, there were so many, so d.a.m.ned many who were so much worse. At least, I liked to tell myself that. Were they eaten up with the same self-doubts, frustration, and loathing as I? Was the concept of human happiness mere myth? Was the only difference between me andthe rest of those I'd encountered that I was the one-eyed man in the proverbial land of the blind? And if so, when the h.e.l.l did I get to be king?

Well... what about the people of Hosbiyu, I wondered. They were decent people. They felt consistently good about themselves. What were they doing differently? Was it something in the food?

Something in the air? Philosophies, religion?

Or was it that they weren't actually all that superior after all? There was always that possibility.

Consider the joy with which they had greeted the news that I was going to seek vengeance for the death of Ali. Perhaps they were so cheered because they burned with as much dark need for retribution as anyone else.

Yes. That was probably it. Despite their outer trappings of righteousness and goodness, deep down they were as sc.u.mmy as anyone else, including me. And cowardly. They were cowardly, too, hanging back and letting me attend to the job of vengeance.

The thought should have made me happy. Instead it made me more depressed and more filled with self-loathing than ever before.

It was nice to know there were some things on which I could count.

There was a knock at the door and I looked up. Cleft Chin was standing there, scowling at me, as he was wont to do. I realized he was the only member of the village who had not come by to bow to me and mutely express appreciation for my self-inflicted adventure of vengeance.

He wasn't bowing.

He continued to scowl.

I got to my feet. "Problem?" I inquired.

He didn't step in. It was as if he thought he would be contaminated if he set foot into the place.

Instead his face darkened and he growled, "I know you."

"Yessss," I said slowly. "Yes, I should think you..."

"I have been watching you," continued Cleft Chin. "I know your type. I know how you think."

"Oh, do you?" I was on my guard. "And how do I think, precisely?"

"You think beyond matters of mere vengeance. You do nothing unless there is some personal gain for you."

Well, I had to admit, the fellow was rather savvy for a farmer in the middle of no d.a.m.ned place at all.

He'd certainly read me well enough. Still, I wasn't about to say, Well done you, fellow, you've got me pegged. Instead I simply replied, "Really. And what personal gain would I derive from seeking out Ali's murderers?"

I was ready for him to say, None, you poseur. "You want the reward," he said.

That stopped me cold. "Reward," I said. "The reward... for the destruction of the Anais Ninjas?"

"And for the Forked Tong," said Chin.

"And how would I know of these things," I said, "considering I am still relatively new to your land?"

He sniffed disdainfully. "The others would have told you. These things are generally known to all our people. No doubt you saw this as an opportunity to enrich yourself, while cloaking yourself in the righteousness of an honorable quest of vengeance."

"No doubt."

It is said that ignorance and arrogance are a devastating combination. The ignorant man you can outthink. The arrogant man you can trip up using his overconfidence against him. The man who is both ignorant and arrogant, however, can be most problematic if not handled properly.

Cleft Chin, fortunately, was simply arrogant. His "reading" of me was so dead on that it never occurred to him that any other conclusions he might draw could be in error. He simply a.s.sumed that since something was common knowledge to the others in the village, it had to be known to me as well.

Except, of course, it wasn't.

I was, however, quite good when it came to guessing at things. That intuition had served me well on any number of occasions, and I suspected I was going to be able to have it serve me again in this case.

"So how do you plan to do it?" asked Cleft Chin, watching me carefully.

I casually circled the interior of the hut. "Why would I tell you that? Why would I tell you how I intend to bring down," and this was where I began my conjectures, "that notorious criminal organization, the Forked Tong... and their foot soldiers, the Anais Ninjas?" All he did was scowl more at my lack of being forthcoming, which led me to conclude that my guess was accurate. Thus emboldened, I continued, "Granted, the reward being offered by... the..." My mind raced as I tried to figure who would most benefit from the destruction of a major group of criminals. Well, obviously, it would be the person or persons who would most like to see a source of competing power go away. Which meant that it was likely the person or persons in power in Chinpan... except I'd never heard the names of any such individuals bandied about. For these isolated farmers, such matters as rulers were of the vaguest import.

Double Chin had mentioned some ruling sort, but I couldn't recall the t.i.tle.

So little time had pa.s.sed, that it could barely be discerned as a hesitation in my speech as I completed the sentence, "...the... supreme ruler of his land... the honorable... the divine... the lordly presence over all--"

"The Imperior, yes, yes," Cleft Chin snapped impatiently. "If there is one habit I cannot tolerate, it is this tendency to place endless honorifics before his t.i.tle. Just say 'the Imperior' and be done with it."

"The Imperior has set out a reward for the destruction of the Anais Ninjas and, presumably, the Forked Tong as well."

"I know that!" said Cleft Chin in frustration. "You're telling me things I already know! What I want toknow is, to earn the ten million yeng, what are you going to do? How are you going to go about it?"

I had no idea what a yeng was, or how much it was worth, and whether ten million was truly a significant amount, although it certainly sounded impressive to me. The one thing I did know, however, was someone trying to mooch their way into an ideal situation. "You still haven't explained to me why I should possibly cut you in."

"You've no reason to," Cleft Chin told me. "I do not seek riches. I find my wealth in the simple things.

In the s.h.i.+ning of the sun. In the--"

"Spare me," I sighed, raising a hand. "You must want something. Somebody always wants something.

What sort of deal are you endeavoring to cut with me here?"

He entered the hut with visible effort. Before I could say or do anything, his hand lashed out and encompa.s.sed my throat.

"These are a good and gentle people," he informed me, and I was hardly in a position to argue the point. "They neither want nor deserve trouble. If you are indeed intent to embark on this course of action, then for their sakes... for all our sakes... you had best succeed. That is all I have to say to you."

He held me that way a moment longer, as if he was going to add something to his p.r.o.nouncement. But then, true to his word, he released me, adding a shove for good measure.

Gasping, leaning against the wall, with my hand to my throat, I managed to say, "Did you give a lecture like this to Ali? Before he brought down upon himself whatever doom he did? Were you concerned his activities, whatever they were, would rebound to the detriment of your people?"

His eyes narrowing further so the whites were visible as little more than slits, he said, "Yes. Almost exactly the same lecture. And look how it turned out for him." And with that emphatic, if melodramatic, p.r.o.nouncement, he departed.

I stood there, rubbing my throat. That had been wholly unexpected and somewhat painful.

It was also informative and wildly tempting.

There had been any number of times I had allowed my innate greed and love of fortune get me into some sort of dire predicament. One would have thought that I'd learned by that point that such endeavors never came to a good end. Unfortunately, such was not the case. Given the opportunity, would I turn around and make the exact same mistake?

Absolutely.

"A reward," I murmured.

"Ten million yeng," I muttered, without having a clue what a yeng was, remember.

"The Imperior," I continued, as I prepared for my departure with renewed vigor.

Matters of vengeance were of little interest to me. Matters of honor were of even less moment. But matters of personal aggrandizement and benefit were definitely more than enough to intrigue me. I wasn't committing myself to anything, surely. I could contemplate an action without necessarily seeing it through. I could explore this concept, find out as much as I could about this Forked Tong, learn how their organization was set up, and perhaps discover a weak point that I could exploit. I was, after all, an outsider. And sometimes a particular situation that mystified or frustrated those who were close to it could be easily resolved by a fresh outlook.

But I had to find this "Imperior," this ruler of all Chinpan. As it turned out, that wasn't so much of a ch.o.r.e at all. Child's play, in fact. To be specific, I asked the children who were playing out in the center of the village, "Where would one find the Imperior?"

The response was immediate and uniform: "Taikyo," they said, "in the great palace."

Well, that seemed reasonably straightforward. A small bit of further probing divined, from the older children, the fact that Taikyo was fairly easy to get to, at least from a directional point of view. One went to the main intersection of the small path out of town with the main road, and then went due west. Simple enough. Keep my back to the sun during the day, ride toward it as the day waned.

As it turned out, I wasn't going to have to walk. Kit Chin's family, with great pomp and display, provided me with a horse. It was one of the beasts that the thugs who had come to our village and wound up as fertilizer had been riding. I knew there was a small element of risk, since the animal might be recognized by the people who had dispatched those musclemen in the first place. But the horse itself was fairly nondescript, with no markings or brands upon it that I could see, so it was worth the minimal gamble in order to spare me limping all the way to Taikyo.

And so that very morning, I set out. I had transformed Ali's unique sword into the center staff of a bindle, keeping it wrapped in its concealing cloth and attaching a sack at the end that contained my belongings. I slung it over my shoulder, and for all anyone knew, the long support for the sack might have been made from bamboo.

The people of Hosbiyu lined the street to see me off. It was quite an overt demonstration for a group of people that generally tended to remain low key. It made my heart swell with pride, so much so that it was an effort for me to remind myself that my initial impulse had been to fool them completely. For that matter, it remained my backup plan.

Still, as I set out, I could feel the smoldering gaze of Cleft Chin burning upon me for the entirety of my departure, and for much of the time thereafter.

The first few days of my sojourn pa.s.sed rather unremarkably.

I encountered a few travelers who were heading in the direction opposite to mine. They stared at me as they approached, and continued to watch me silently as we pa.s.sed each other. It was natural for them to have that sort of reaction. I was, after all, like nothing they'd seen: a round-eyed individual wearing the apparel of local farmers, with one of those wide, flat hats upon my head to ward off the sun. No doubt they thought me to be exactly what I had first erroneously concluded about the residents of Hosbiyu: the result of a freakish birth, a poor unfortunate b.a.s.t.a.r.d whom the G.o.ds had gifted with a uniquely bizarre and quite disgusting visage.

Whatever pleased them. So long as they didn't see it as cause to attack me, it was of little consequence. The road ran roughly parallel to the river. This was a very clever bit of design, for it simplified the journey tremendously. If my water skins were getting low, I would get off the road, walk over to the river, and refill them. The villagers had provided me with various simple foodstuffs that traveled well.

Rice, mostly. Lots of rice. Lots of rice. When I wanted something else, I would settle in at the river's edge and fish. I had neither string nor hook, but I had become extremely adept with the sai that I had brought with me, tucked into my belt. I was actually fast enough of hand and sharp enough of eye that I could skewer pa.s.sing unwary fish without too much difficulty.

I couldn't recall a time when I had been better or more thoroughly armed, which was an impressive achievement considering I was someone who tried to avoid combat whenever humanly possible. The two sai, when not in use, were tucked into the wide sash I wore as a belt. My b.a.s.t.a.r.d sword was strapped to my back, as always, and my walking staff was lashed to the right side of the horse's saddle. The birds-head sword hung on the saddle's left side.

I s.h.i.+ed away from the occasional inns I pa.s.sed, having no idea of the reception I would receive along the way. Other travelers might have settled for simply gawking at me, but I didn't want to count on being able to sleep safely in a roadside establishment where, for all I knew, foreigners were not kindly looked upon. Instead, when night approached, I would hie myself over to the nearby forest, which also seemed to run the length of my sojourn. And there, amidst the bamboo trees, I would find rest and an uneasy form of peace. Fortunately, I was always a light sleeper, so if anyone should happen upon me in the night with the intent of mischief, I would most certainly awaken fast enough to deal with them.

Occasionally I would have dreams. Dreams made me nervous, for sometimes they bordered on the prophetic. I didn't know why. A result of the traces of magic that dogged my being, no doubt.