The hunted Heir arrived along with the wailing spirits of the midnight, which rode the harsh winds.
Lord Sanemasa rolled out of his bed, pulled a coat over his nightgown, and hurried after the servant. He took the candle holder and hurried ahead, having the air inflating his robe and long sleeves.
“When did he arrive?” he whispered over his shoulder to his servant as he passed his hand over the few strands of hair that remained on his gray head.
“Just now, my lord!” the servant whispered back.
“This must be kept secret. Our lives depend on it. Do you understand?” Sanemasa threw a weary look over his shoulder.
“My lord,” the servant mumbled, rushing to slide a double door ahead of him, “It is best to kill him. It is too risky to harbor him.”
Sanemasa frowned and darkened, sliding another door. He halted his steps when he reached the small empty compartment. On the wood floor, there were a few sitting pillows left empty. Sanemasa looked at the back of a boy, who knelt on a pillow and faced another sliding door. Next to him was a man wearing the black clothes of the Hetuwa’s Secret Service - a ninja, as the common folk called them. Even the bandages on the left side of the head were black. He hurried to turn and bow with his head on the ground toward him.
Sanemasa glared at the stunned boy, the sound of his heavy steps muffled by the paper walls and the polished wood floor as he circled him. He tilted his head toward the left to get a glimpse of the boy’s eyes. He sat on the pillow across him, legs under him. Sanemasa’s dark face hovered over the inert child with dried blood hardening his clothes. He analyzed the phoenix eyes, in which a numb grey ocean was stretching in the dark. There was no twitch on the boy’s face as if he was made of wax.
“He has great skills in combat,” the ninja next to him whispered after bowing his head to Sanemasa once more and keeping a humble bend. “He passed the second exam of the secret service with success. He is well educated in—”
“What happened to his father?” Sanemasa hushed the man in an even quieter tone.
“He was cut in the purge, your lordship,” he paused to muster the courage to say more. “He died before the boy’s eyes. Our lord made us swear to save the boy and bring him to you.”
“Us?”
The man pressed his lips. “I am the only one left.”
Sanemasa sighed. He lifted an eyebrow while he closed and opened his palm.
“Akisuki…” Sanemasa whispered after a while toward the boy. “I am your uncle and I am willing to take you under my protection. You will not be found nor killed if you do as I say. Do you understand?”
Akisuki did not give any sign that he heard his uncle. The flickering light of the candle played shadows over his brown, lifeless cheeks.
“Your lordship,” the ninja said, “He saw things he should not have seen. Please give him a bit of time,” he bowed once more.
Sanemasa nodded his head in contemplation. “I understand. I do. But… if he can not cooperate, I can not help him. The soldiers will search for him by the break of day and I will have to open my gates for them.” And he turned his head toward the boy. “Akisuki, can you do what I say?”
There was no response.
Sanemasa sighed and darted his eyes over the compartment’s paper doors.
“Akisuki, do you want to survive?” Sanemasa whispered in a soft tone.
“He does, your lordship. He does,” the ninja said, bowing again as if this would make his words more true.
Sanemasa glared at Akisuki and with every waiting moment, his wrinkles deepened and his gaze turned more severe. There was a certain amount of risk he could afford. If the boy was not able to collaborate and do exactly as he was told, he would not be able to hide the truth.
“Akisuki, do you want to survive or not?” Sanemasa pressed on every word, bending his stiff back in the hope he would reach the boy’s mind.
“Your lordship,” the man in black bowed with desperation. “Please, give him a night of good rest and he will do what he needs. He wants to live. He must. He is the rightful ruler of the country.”
Sanemasa stood on his feet and walked slowly toward the door, circling the inert boy. He paused, facing his servant waiting in the door.
“I can’t afford it. He will get us all killed,” Sanemasa whispered, clapping his hand on his back. He made up his mind. The boy would have to die so he could protect his own people.
“I don’t want to survive.” Akisuki’s hoarse voice brought a heavy silence. Sanemasa did not turn and shut his eyes in pain. He could not blame the boy. If he lives, he will carry with him the horrors that he witnessed.
“I want to thrive!” Akisuki turned his head, his phoenix eyes full of a smoldering determination.
Valda stopped at the corner of the corridor and watched Klaus putting down a treasure chest and straightening his back, breathing out. The chest made of rosewood encrusted with gold and diamonds had a colossal size. He gripped the two handles, molded in gold, which looked like ivy vines surfacing from the wood. He crunched and pulled the chest up. His whole body trembled under the weight of the chest but he stubbornly took several steps before putting it down again, defeated.
“Do you need help?” Valda asked, coming behind him in the corridor.
“I can handle it,” Klaus said, supporting his trembling body with the hands on his knees.
“Of course,” Valda said, smiling and gripping one of the handles and waiting for Klaus to lift the other side of the box. “Where to?”
“Your—room!”
Valda pulled a surprised face. They made fast lateral steps in the corridor and in a few moments they dropped the chest on Valda’s floor. Both took a moment to swipe their sweat.
“So… What is with this about? Why did you broth it in my room?”
“It is a gift. For you,” Klaus said, rubbing his neck and darting his eyes.
“A gift?” Valda looked at the opulent chest.
“Ahem…” Klaus opened it. It was full of jewels, gems, pearls, gold and silver. Shimmering necklaces, delicate chaplets, sophisticated earrings bearing diamonds and sapphires in their slim bodies, wide bracelets encrusted with emeralds from which low-reliefs of plummy flowers and nacre butterflies emerged. The treasure chest reflected and amplified the light in the room to the point that both had to lower their eyelashes and turn their heads away.
Valda threw him a puzzled look.
“I just wanted to… gift you some jewels,” Klaus said in a shy voice, fidgeting.
"Thank you." Valda closed the lid and pushed it toward the wall. She sat on it, crossing her legs and glaring at the window. "It's good. It makes a good bench. Although a pillow would make it more comfortable."
The evening shadows inside the bright orange palace were deep and opaque. The horse was licking its wounds, snickering.
“I hear you,” Grace whispered.
“I haven’t said anything,” Xain said, raising the candle to throw some light on Grace.
“This horse… there are many patterns in his whinnying.” Grace turned around.
“So?”
“Animals have very few coherent patterns. Normally covering basic information like hunger, pain, and danger. This horse has a complex vocabulary.”
“And… you can distinguish different sounds made by a horse. I thought that they all do the same sound: nehe-he.” Xain put on his buffoon face.
Grace looked at him baffled.
“What? Ask anyone and they will tell you the same thing.”
“I can’t believe you are the owner of a horse. Lalu must suffer greatly from your ignorance.”
“Hey. I am taking good care of her. She is a healthy strong horse,” Xain protested.
“What are you two arguing about?” Osmar entered.
“Grace understands horse language.” Xain’s tone was pointing to the absurdity of the idea.
