When they had finished their meal, Oatie began to gather the pots and leavings from their meal, but Lugh took them from her hands.  “You did the cooking, the least I can do is wash up afterward.”  He was rewarded with a lovely smile and felt good about it as he washed the pots and spoons with water and sand from the little stream.

The fire had died down to almost nothing.  Camp was laid, with Oatie already in her bed and another bed, on the other side of the fire, laid out for him.  It had been a long day, but Lugh didn’t quite feel like sleep.  After stowing the gear, he took some firewood from the pile and added it to their camp fire, stirring up the flames in the process.  Lugh laid down and looked over at Oatie where she lay.  He was surprised to see her eyes shining in the dancing fire light, he’d thought she was already asleep.

“I’m sorry if I woke you by stirring up the fire.  I thought maybe you were already asleep.”

“No,” she said, Lugh thought a bit sadly, “I was thinking.”

“Thinking what?”

“Everything and nothing,” she said.  Oatie rolled on her back and looked up at the stars. ”Thanks for cleaning the pots, by the by.  That was good of you.”

“Thanks for cooking and making camp.  Was thanks for cleaning the pots what you were thinking?  Because I find that hard to believe.”

Oatie pondered the question and said nothing at first, but Lugh could she was now looking at him, her eyes, bright and avid, in the fire-light’s glow. “I suppose I was thinking you were not what I expected is all,” she finally said after a long silence.

“Why would you expect anything? Did you know I was coming?”

“Not really, I was surprised to find you sitting on my giant, but I knew you, Lugh of the Long Journeys.  What Norfolk would not?”

“Really? It has been a long time since I’ve been with your folk, and still you know me?”

“Hard not to remember. . .” Oatie’s voice trailed off in the night.

Lugh was annoyed by what seemed a riddle.   Oatie was hinting around something and it angered him for a reason on which he could not put his finger.  “And why is that?” he prodded. “It seems you have a bad image of me and are surprised, as bad as I am, that I’m not worse.”

“I meant no offense, only thanks for the help.”

“. . .because I’m such an ogre that no Norfolk would expect common decency from me?” Lugh sat up, too agitated now to calmly lie beside the fire. “What is all this?”

“We need to sleep, Lugh, please.” Oatie snuggled deeper in her bed roll, but her eyes still shone through her long eye-lashes.

“Then tell me and have done.”

“I don’t think this is the time to talk of such things.  We should sleep.”

“Should we, truly?  Then put my mind at ease and answer, what are we even talking about?  It seems I’ve done some wrong that every Norfolk knows.  It can’t be a great secret, tell me then what I’ve done or how could I possibly sleep?”

“How could you not know it?”

“How could I if you don’t tell me?  I swear I have no idea what it is you are saying so much not to say.”

“It is a hard thing.” She seemed about to say something important but instead she began in a rush, “This is not the time to speak of it.  Honestly, I don’t know why I would believe anything my people say.  We are both outcast and I prefer it so.  It is nothing, idle chatter from a tired head.  Go to sleep Lugh, we will need our strength for the morrow.”  Oatie turned her back and disappeared into her bedding roll.

Lugh had had enough deflection.  He threw off blankets, moved to Oatie’s side, and, reaching out, pulled her shoulder to turn her back toward him, “Tell me this hard thing.  You must. . .”

“Don’t touch me!” Oatie shrieked and flinched away.

Lugh had no intention of harming her and Oatie’s reaction, seeming to suggest that he could, enraged him.  Lugh grabbed her shoulders and shook her, “Tell me! Is this about Von?”  The terror in her eyes made him know that it was. “What about Von? She warned me of my brother and I fled. What happened to Von?”

“You’re hurting me,” she cried.

“Tell me what happened to Von.” He hissed and shook her again, more violently than he intended.  Cloth tore, but Lugh did not release her.

“They killed her,” Oatie managed and Lugh froze, stunned. Oatie’s eyes were wide with terror, “Are you going to kill me Lugh?” she asked, but Lugh had already dropped her and wandered into the lonely night.

It was a day like many many others.  Her world was a room.  Two paces, cool stone, three paces, rough wood, a door, and in that a smaller door, a tiny one, a food door. Kitsuniko would have despaired, but it was her world and she could remember nothing else.  There was a dim light coming from the light place, sometimes it was yellow, now it was blue.

“Daylight.  The day begins, the words must be said, the ritual must be performed, that I might find my mother, that I might help her in her need.” She gathered herself, moving by feel the proper distance from the wood, from the door. “Body remembers what the mind has forgotten,” In the semi-darkness Kitsuniko moves, fighting shadows with shadow knives.  In the half light nothing is unreal.

Heart beating rapidly, the circle complete, the ritual almost full.  Her body is as it always is.  There is delicious ache, there is need for food, there is life, blood rushing, there is, “This, that I might find my mother, that I might help her in her need.”

Breath in, breath out,  and, there is silence there is discord in her world.

Puzzled, Kitsuniko knows that there should be an opening of the food door, the smell of it, wholesome, needed and there the bowl which ever holds what is needful.

*   *   *

Above there is discord indeed.  The Scholar and the Herb Witch have come before the Shogun of the Pinnacle of the Rice Fields.  They have come to plead for Kitsuniko’s release with subterfuge.  There have been four Shogun since Kitsuniko killed the Shogun the fourth replaced.  That Shogun did not last long enough to release his ally before the third put him to the sword.  All this was most unfortunate.

The scholar was speaking in the way that he had that made men of action’s eyes glaze, “It has been fifty long years since Kitsuniko was placed in that cell.  Apparently, she was a hired assassin and in my research there are tantalizing hints that the woman was a skilled sorcerer.  In fact, there is good reason to suppose that claims that she could transpose herself with another were not just fictions meant to cover misdeeds, but in fact true.  This I have from many reliable sources.  Kitsuniko can, given the right conditions, move from one place to another where there is a victim, and in turn the victim assumes the previous position of Kitsuniko.  I think the Herb Witch can confirm that such is possible though not common.

The Shogun’s eyes were glazed, but he felt justified as a man of action.  He waved off the scholar and tried to get the man to his point, ”All of this is fine to hear, facts and sources and hints, but what exactly or you telling me?”  The scholar blinked stupidly, as if he could not comprehend the Shogun’s clear question.

The Herb Witch stepped forward, “Simply put, the Kitsuniko in your dungeon, is not Kitsuniko at all, but an innocent.  The assassin and sorcerer, Kitsuniko herself, has escaped leaving the poor innocent to pay for her crimes.”

“I don’t see how this involves me.”  began the Shogun, “I didn’t even know this creature was in my dungeon.”

“Most regrettable,” said the Scholar.

“Most unfortunate,” agreed the Herb Witch.

“How can you possibly know?  If it has been fifty years, who would know the assassin?  Besides, I have no complicity at all.  This is not my affair.”

“MMmmm, true, and yet Kitsuniko’s assassination of Warlike Name, brought Sneaky Dragon to power.  She undoubtedly expected quick release.  But when Strong Phoenix overthrew Sneaky Dragon she was never freed.  She has languished there ever after.  Through the unfortunate reign of Strong Phoenix and the grievous mismanagement of Golden Stag even when your father, Wise Griffin, saved our good pinnacle from sure destruction, may he be remembered reverently for all time, and you now ensure our continuance with your strong sword, she has been left to rot in the deepest darkest dungeon.”

The Shogun, Rising Tide, shook himself.  His eyes had glazed again, “I don’t see the problem. You keep talking and talking and I wish to understand, but I see no problem in this for me.”  The old scholar looked dazed himself, perhaps he wasn’t totally immune to his own droning.

The Herb Witch stepped forward again to explain, “Only this my lord.  Kitsuniko might well be in great anger at the Shogun of the Pinnacle of the Rice Fields though you are not the foolish man that did not release her as promised.”

“But that was Sneaky Phoenix’s problem . . .”

“ummm, Sneaky Dragon, my lord.”  corrected the Scholar helpfully.

“Fine, Sneaky Dragon, but how could this assassin hold me accountable for something done long before even my father, . . .”

“May he ever be reverenced,” intoned the elders

“. . . Wise Griffin was Shogun before me?”

“Fifty years in prison might cause one to be unhinged. . .” said the Herb Witch.

“Assassins . . ,” furnished the Scholar

“I thought you said she had escaped by changing places with another.”

“How to know but to look and see?” asked the Herb Witch.

Being a man of action, the Shogun, seeing an action to be done, did, “Guards attend me.  You Scholar, and you Witch, come also.  There is no need to wonder when we can see.”

The trip down into the deepest darkest dungeon was revealing, this was a place where a prisoner was sent to be forgotten.  The Shogun wondered how anyone could survive fifty years with the weight of the pinnacle above them.  The jailer only spent time here when he worked and he seemed a bit made, “Is it much farther, Jailer?”

“Not much to the door.  Who can say if it will open?  That door has been shut tight for. . .”

“Over fifty years.”

“Long before I started” The jailer shoved his key into the lock and struggled for a few moments.  They heard a metallic click and mumbled curses, “That’s the key, it’s broken off in the lock,” said the man.

“What now?” asked the Shogun.

“I push it in?” asked the big galoeer.

“Do so,” said the Shogun, Rising Tide.

*   *   *

They had found the girl cowering in the corner, blinded by their torches.  It seemed obvious to the Shogun and when it was explained, the Jailer, that this child, no more than twenty, could not be the seventy-year-old assassin, Kitsuniko. 

The Scholar advised, and then produced a written pardon and parole, absolving the former Kitsuniko of her former now fifty-year-old deeds.  It seemed stupid to the Shogun, but for some reason the Scholar thought this might molify the great sorceror and assassin Kitsuniko.  Being a man of action, Rising Tide, the Shogun, signed and had this pardon proclaimed throughout the pinnical.  Why borrow trouble?

The two elders, the Scholar and the Herb Witch, had even taken care of the poor waif, wisking her off to their den, the Shogun hoped, never to be seen again.  All was well, all was back to normal. 

*   *   *

Behind the Herb Witch’s shop and the Scholar’s library there was their home.  It was dimly lit now and the two elders fussed over the disoriented girl.  “You need to eat, I know this all is strange to you.  Rest, be refreshed,” said the old woman.

Are you my mother?  Are you in need? Kitsuniko thought.  All this is strange, this of the old woman, this speech.  I do not know it and yet I understand.

Now the old man spoke, “We apologize for the long delay.  It is not right that you were in that hole for so long.  We do beg your pardon.

The hole, Kitsuniko looked at the old man, he meant well, but his words confused her.  When he said hole did he mean the world?  And what was this place?  So bright, and with these others.  “Are you my mother?  Are you in need?” Kitsuniko directed her question to the old woman, the words came with difficulty.

The old man was confused to silence by her mumblings, but the old woman heard and reshaped the words into something intelligible.  “Am I your mother?”  The old woman smiled and look to the old man.  The Herb Witch smiled at Kitsuniko, “No, I am not your mother, but we,” and she made a motion that included the Scholar, “We are all blood.”

There was silence, comfortingly like her world.  Quiet like the old world, this one was messier, confusing, but she knew from her ritual that there was a wider world that she wasn’t allowed, but one day she would.  It was today.

The old woman and the old man got to their feet and stood, hand pressing hand, “Daylight and dark.  The day begins, the day ends, the words must be said, the ritual must be performed, that I might know my purpose, that I am ready at need.” The words were different, but the ritual was the same, the movings and steppings, Kitsuniko flowed with her blood, two she could not remember but seemed to know or be known by. ”Body remembers what the mind has forgotten,” In the semi-darkness Kitsuniko moves, fighting shadows with shadow knives.  In the half light nothing is unreal.

Lugh jogged a little to catch up to Oatey and stalked along now as annoyed as she seemed to be angry.  “So what did I do?” He began, “I’m used to being treated as a pariah, but at least I usually know my offense.  Commonly it is the same one. . .”

“I don’t want to talk . . .” said Oatey but Lugh cut her off.

“Well, I DO want to talk.  I always want to talk.  If you want to spend time with me in the future you will have to become accustomed to my talk, because that’s what I do, I talk.”  Lugh took a step or two more before adding, “and though I don’t mind carrying a conversation I do like to hear the occasional word. . .”

“I’ve nothing to say.”

“As if that makes any difference,” Lugh mumbled to himself before trying again, “First, perhaps you can tell me what I did.”

“Nothing at all.  I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Nothing AND I don’t want to talk about it.”  Lugh countered, “So there IS something.”

Oatey stopped dead and Lugh stopped a bit beyond her, turning back as she said quietly, “Why are you following me Lugh?”

Her pain was palpable, overwhelming, and it shocked Lugh into silence.  She stared hopelessly into his eyes a moment, but a couple of Norfolk walked up to them in the corridor, and in making way Oatey pushed past him.  She continued on up the corridor without his answer.  Lugh followed silently.

Oatey went about gathering things without another word to Lugh.  For his part, Lugh sat for a while, waiting for a thaw in the icy silence.  When it did not come, he rapidly gathered his things and was ready to go when she was.

She regarded him stoically as she began to leave and he happened to block her path in the cluttered room, “There is another giant, it is arranged.”  She said as she pushed past him and walked out into the hall.  He followed her and had to hurry not to loose her in the labyrinth of the sidhe.

Briefly he knew where he was as their path led into the large room where Lugh had attended the celebration.  Lugh waved to a few of his fellow drinkers and they returned his greeting.  That brief distraction was almost enough for him to loose his way because Oatey, after exiting the tunnel into the hall, immediately turned into another corridor.  Lugh had to scramble to catch up.

“Ayee, Oatey, I don’t know my way.” called Lugh after he almost lost her again in a tunnel with side passages stuffed with provisions.  She glanced back, but did not seem to slow as Lugh struggled to keep up.

She turned in to an arched passage that was identical to all the others up and down the hall.  Lugh hurried to follow around the corner and almost ran into Oatey from behind where she stood at a desk-like board.

“Well look there Oatey, you’ve grown a tail,” said a particularly rotund Norfolk sitting behind the desk.  Oatey looked back, regarding him with what looked like annoyance.  The man went back to putting items on the desk which Oatey gathered, organized, and stowed in her gear.

“He’ll need a load too, and a sling.”

“What? Does he know how to use it?” asked the man.

“I can show h. . .”

“I know how to use a sling,” Lugh cut them off, “I’m not a child.”

The fellow behind the desk shrugged and hopped off his stool.  Only then did Lugh see that the fellow was missing a leg.  “Here you go then,” he said, grabbing a sling off the wall and turning back.  As he jumped back onto his stool, he layed the sling out and then reached under the counter.  He scooped something into a bag and brought that out too,  “I figure basics,” he said and shoved the things toward Lugh while he looked to Oatey for confirmation.

She nodded curtly and then said, “Can you give us another couple days ration Jonesy?”

“mmm hmm, just a short trip then?”  Jonesy gathered the items and laid them on the desk.

“Yeah. I’ve marked another one.  Gonna go get it and back like the last one.”

“Be careful now.” Jonesy winked at Oatey and she smiled and waved as she turned away.  Lugh was still packing items away when the fellow grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close, “Oatey’s a good girl.  No harm better come to her from the likes of you. Got that?” Jonesy whispered threateningly and then shoved him away.

Lugh gathered the last of the things and followed Oatey.

“What’s that?” asked Oatey.

“Nothing. . .” Lugh lied, “a gift that I’ve kept and I’m not sure why.”  Because it is my lodestone, my guiding star and I’d not know what to do if I didn’t have them.  Lugh restrung and resettled them around his neck where they rode over his heart.  “Well, what’s for breakfast?”

“Porridge, ’tis my custom.” She explained, smiled shyly, “But I have fruit too, and this scramble of eggs and herbs and meat.  Probably that’s more to your liking . . .”

“Don’t be too sure.” said Lugh, but in the end he did eat most of the eggs and only a little of the porridge.  They talked lightly of nothing at all, teasing about her room, she telling him that he had a guestroom not far, fruits favored and not, but they both fell silent when family came up.

When the silence grew painful he broke it, “This was a wonderful breakfast, thank you Oatey.” He smiled at her and she blushed prettily.

Oatey fidgeted, Lugh thought she had something she wanted to say so he hesitated.  She looked up, but finding his eyes on her she immediately looked down and then away.  “It isn’t our custom for a man and woman to be alone without . . .”

“Breakfast? Egg scramble? let me guess, books?”

Oatey blushed, “. . . I mean unattended, without chaperon . . .”

“Oh, well I can’t imagine that does anything good for your folk having children . . .”

That made her laugh, “No, I mean unmarried men and women of course.” The bed they shared last night was their table to eat breakfast and it told him about her seriousness that she slipped off and walked toward the door. ”It is thought dishonorable.”

“Ah, is it?” Lugh grabbed a piece of fruit he didn’t want and took a bite, “mmmm, well which of us is dishonored and which dishonorable?”

“I don’t care what they think,” Oatey said defiantely, she looked him in the eye, “They care nothing for me anyhow.  I only mention it so that you know what they may say of you, what they already think of me.”

Lugh couldn’t suppress the laugh that burst out, but he hurried to apologize when he saw Oatey look so hurt, “No no no, It isn’t you sweet.  It is just that my reputation is far worse than yours could possibly be, and I’ve earned mine.”

He thought she might disolve into tears, but when she looked up she surprised him again with her fierceness, “You don’t know what they think of me.  Some think that I might even be the giant wife I pretend to be to lure the giants to be killed.  All think me strange, and I am.  I would never want to be like them.”

Lugh wasn’t sure what to say, “I don’t think you’re a giant wife . . .”

Oatey laughed humorlessly, “. . . But you think me strange.” She turned away from his gaze, “It’s alright, I am strange, that and more.”