The Book of Heroes (53 page)

“As the Hero and the King in Yellow are two sides of one coin, so are the nameless devout who turn the Great Wheels of Inculpation here and the weavers who remain in the Circle. The cycling of stories is also the cycling of human deeds,” Ash said, his tone that of the philosopher expounding on a well-known truth to one of his students.

“My brother was guilty of such a great sin?” U-ri asked, her voice faltering, her body swaying. “He did something so bad?”

“He tried to become the Hero,” Ash replied, “the very embodiment of heroic justice. And he did not wisely choose his means to that end. Your brother took the life of one of his classmates. Without a moment’s hesitation, he sullied his hands with the blood of another child of the Circle.”

All for justice, for victory.

U-ri shouted, “But the kids he was dealing with were really bad! They attacked him first! You mean you’re not allowed to strike back?”

“Does that make it all right to commit
murder
? Was it all right for him to be their sole judge and executioner?” Ash shook his head. “When a child anywhere in the Circle takes up a weapon in order to remove those who do not see as he does, this leads to war—a war great enough to destroy the entire Circle. It is not an isolated event. Surely you understand that now.”

A world in which a child may take the life of another is the same world in which ten thousand soldiers may kill ten thousand more. One is many, and many are one.

U-ri realized that “ten thousand” wasn’t just a number—it referred to the idea of everything, everything inside the Circle.

“So who gets to judge evil, then? Are we not allowed to accuse people who do wrong?” U-ri asked, her voice almost a scream.

Ash waited for the echoes to fade before he replied, calm as ever, “That is why men created the story we call ‘law.’ Even as we walk on through an eternity, leaving repeated mistakes and endless sacrifices as we cross rivers of tears, we have found a story that attempts to put things right. The story of law is written in the language of our footsteps. Because of this, it is not without faults. Yet should we forget the law and make stories as we wish for us or others to live, that is a sin.”

U-ri hugged herself and cried. Then another thought occurred to her.

“But the people he fought—that teacher and the bullies in his class—they all did the same thing. How was their ‘justice’ any better than Hiroki’s?”

“It was not. They are sinners too. Inculpated, and rightly so,” Ash said, his voice expressing nothing but sadness. “Yet they did not find the Book of Elem. They did not meet the Hero. Thus are they judged only within the Circle and not here in the nameless land.”

“But that’s not fair!”

In that instant, U-ri understood why Ichiro Minochi roared in the dungeon beneath the Katarhar Abbey ruins. She understood his thirst to put things right by his own hands, to make just the unfairness that had taken his one hope, his one consolation away.

That’s why he wanted to raise the dead
.

U-ri whimpered. “My brother might have wanted what the Hero had to offer the moment he picked up that knife, but that was the only time. Just one moment out of so many. Why should he have to give up the rest of his life to atone for that?”

The Archdevout laid his hand on U-ri’s back. “There is no time in the nameless land.”

So does that mean there’s no suffering? No weariness?

Something thing Morgan had said flashed through U-ri’s mind.
Hadn’t he called the nameless devout holy men?

Holy men. Carrying the weight of man’s sins
.

“Your brother is not here in the nameless land,” the Archdevout said then. “All that is here are nameless devout.”

Ash nodded. “And the nameless devout are nothing. Your brother’s soul rests in the great flow of stories until such a time as it will reenter the Circle inside another life. You see? He waits for rebirth. He feels no pain. You ensured that when you purified him.”

But the wolf’s words did not reach U-ri’s heart, and all she had to offer in response was more tears.

“What will I tell my mom, my dad? They’re still hoping, still worried, waiting for Hiroki to come home.”

“Leave that to stories, for facing grief is one time when stories can help most. And pray with them. Weave a new story with your prayers. That the peace your brother has found might someday enter the hearts of your parents as well. Now stand,” Ash instructed. “It is time for you to return to the Circle. Remove your vestments and return them to the Archdevout.”

For a moment, U-ri didn’t understand what he was saying. And when she did, her body went rigid, and she clutched the vestments to her, doubling over where she stood.

“I won’t! I can’t go home!”

On the floor, she began to crawl away from Ash and the Archdevout. “I’ll stop the Hero! I’ll avenge Hiroki! I’m the only one who can do it, right?”

And the Hero is still free.

“I am the one who bears the mark!”

Eyes closed, Ash shook his head. “Not any longer. The glyph has left you. Your role here has ended. Remember just now when the glyph was absorbed into the Hollow Book? The glyph you bore had no further purpose after you purified Sky. You are no longer the
allcaste
, nor will you ever be again.”

“Why not? Why can’t I be?”

“Don’t you wish to return home?” Ash asked, a hint of his old mocking tone returning to his voice.

“Well, what will you do now then, Ash? How are you going to bind the Hero without an
allcaste
to help you?”

“There are other
allcastes
, U-ri. I merely need to find them. In fact, you might say that the tides have shifted in my favor. The Hero used the Book of Elem to create a material form. It becomes more and more like Kirrick every day. An enemy that imitates my brother is an enemy I know well.”

So all Ash would have to do was find someone, an
allcaste
, whose voice could reach Kirrick.

“U-ri,” Ash called her name, his voice more gentle than she had ever heard it before. “The nameless devout were once last vessels, yes? How many nameless devout do you think are here in this land?”

U-ri thought about it a moment, and her mouth opened wide.

“That’s right. More than any of us can count. This, more than anything else, is proof that the Hero has escaped many times before, and been caught just as many times. In fact, the times when the Hero is
not
in the Circle are fewer than the times when it is. The Hero’s imprisonment is the exception. He is imprisoned only for brief intervals between long stretches of time during which he roams freely,” Ash explained. “It is a testament to how much men desire the Hero. They desire it, even when they know the dangers of the King in Yellow. It is in our nature.”

Ash smiled. “So do not worry. You’re still young. Return to your world and live out your life. Live, and be happy. I will handle things on this side. That is why we wolves exist—why we are allowed to live.”

Ash extended his hand from his tattered robes. U-ri took it and stood. Beside her, the Archdevout stood as well.

“Just be careful. The Hero is in the Circle. A time of conflict is at hand,” Ash warned her, squeezing her hand tightly in his own. “You’re one of few in the Circle to return there, knowing the ways of this forsaken land. When conflict rages and men look up to the Hero, their eyes deceived by the lure of the King in Yellow, you will know what to say. Do not lose your voice. Your eyes can see what is right, and what must be. Do not close them. Your courage led you here and to the successful completion of your duties as
allcaste
. It will not fail you.

“If today, one child should learn how to sheathe a blade, then tomorrow the armies will halt their march.”

One leads to many, to all.

“Master Ash,” the Archdevout called out to the wolf. “You have forgotten something very important.” The Archdevout smiled at U-ri. “Though the Hero was not bound, you have completed your mission, Lady U-ri. Before you leave us, you have the right to name a part of our land.”

U-ri led Ash and the Archdevout to the central courtyard of the Hall of All Books. It was as jumbled a place as it had been when she had first seen it, with its bizarrely winding roads and passageways. Yet it was dear and familiar to her all the same. Now, those buildings stood beneath a sky full of stars, their light the nameless land’s only ornamentation.

“That,” U-ri said, pointing straight up. “Sky told me you call that the heavens here.”

“This is true,” the Archdevout said, nodding.

“But those aren’t just the heavens, that’s the sky. The sky of the nameless land.” U-ri shook her head. “I wonder if it will ever be blue?”

She could see the stars so clearly. Who could say that the sun wouldn’t rise someday soon into a cloudless sky, and the nameless devout who had joined her on her journey would look up, his eyes filled with wonder.

“Very well. From this point on, that which arcs above our heads is Lady U-ri’s ‘sky.’”

The Archdevout bowed and gently lifted the vestments of protection from U-ri’s shoulders.

U-ri’s eyes filled with tears, and she put her hands to her face, trying in vain to hold them in.

“You did well,” Ash said then. “You and your brother both.”

So this is goodbye.

“Farewell.”

And that was their word of parting. Brief and to the point.

From Ash, she expected nothing else.

Epilogue

Several days had passed since U-ri returned home
and returned to being Yuriko Morisaki.

The memories of her journey were still vivid in her mind, yet strangely, no matter how often she thought of what had happened, the sadness that had left her hollow before refused to show itself. She was protected from it, somehow, shielded in stillness and light, her heart as serene as a boat drifting on a quiet sea under a blue sky.

She had arrived directly from the nameless land to her own room. The first person she met was her double.

Yuriko’s double had been sitting at her desk, but when the double saw Yuriko, she stood and greeted her, spreading her arms and smiling in silence to show she knew everything that had happened, and she understood.

Yuriko accepted her embrace, and her double hugged her tight. Her double was warm, despite being made of magic. It seemed like she was there not just to take her place in this region while U-ri traveled through magical lands but to take on Yuriko’s emotional burden. The double would carry the lingering hurt so Yuriko didn’t have to.

Maybe that was her real purpose all along
.

Yuriko was alone in her room. She hadn’t even noticed her double leave. It was the middle of the night, so she changed and got into bed. When she awoke, her old daily routine was waiting for her, at least her routine such as it had been since Hiroki’s disappearance. Her parents still waited for her brother to return. There was an empty chair at the table and an empty room next to hers.

Yet Yuriko felt different because she knew what had happened. She knew what had become of her brother, and where he was now.

She knew in her heart that she just had to tell her parents what she knew somehow and everything would be better. She felt like U-ri was still there too, inside her, supporting her, though that might have only been her imagination.

I’ll be okay.

I think.

An errant breeze tugged at her heart, making her sway, but she soon regained her footing.

No. I
will
be okay.

She started going to school again. There was the occasional uncomfortable silence, the occasional conversation that faltered as she walked by, but things had changed for the better. Time had passed not only for her, but for all her friends as well.

That, or my double was really hard at work putting things right while I was gone.

At home, Yuriko’s newfound calm was infectious, and little by little, she could feel her parents relaxing as well. They never forgot Hiroki, of course, not even for a moment. Her mother still cried a lot. There were nights when nobody slept. Yet, like a glyph lighting the darkness, Yuriko was the warm center of the household now, and gradually her family was able to pick itself up off the floor, wipe the dust off its knees, and get back to the business of living.

If they were going to welcome Hiroki back to the family someday, there was no point letting the place fall apart in the meantime. They had to be strong. Yuriko saw it in her parents’ faces now and then, a kind of bright resolve, a determination to keep going.

We’ll be okay.

I think.

Yuriko put a hand to her chest to still the flutter in her heart.

Yuriko wondered what had become of Ichiro Minochi’s cottage and reading room, but it wasn’t the easiest thing to ask about. She couldn’t decide on the right timing to bring up the subject.

The disappointment her mother had suffered when they went there looking for Hiroki still weighed heavily on her, and she didn’t seem eager to talk about the place. And though her father was gradually getting back into life, worrying about how he would split a worthless inheritance from an uncle who wasn’t even a blood relation was low on his list.

She could just bring it up, but she was afraid she would be bringing back all those memories of the night they had broken in there, full of hope, searching through the darkened cottage to find only dust. How their hope had changed to despair, and their certainty had been dashed to pieces. Her parents would sink back into the funk she’d found them in, and Yuriko wanted to avoid that if at all possible.

That, and there was a more pressing question on Yuriko’s mind. She had never found out whether her parents knew about the girl Michiru Inui. Had Michiru come to them and told them the truth? Did they know already, and they just weren’t letting on? And if they really didn’t know, should she tell them?

The police had surely looked into Hiroki’s motives and just as surely passed on anything they had learned to her parents. Yuriko wondered how much of the truth they had really been able to uncover. Had the school been successful in keeping its own missteps out of the public eye?

Though if they were all that successful, why would the police have come asking
me
questions?

Yuriko kept to herself when she thought about these things, so her parents wouldn’t see something in her face to make them worry. When she had taken all the doubts and questions out of her heart and laid them on the table, examining each of them from every possible angle, she came to a conclusion:

The only people who knew why Hiroki Morisaki had done what he did were Michiru Inui, Ms. Kanehashi, his teacher, and Yuriko. Her parents knew nothing. Neither did the police.

The teachers at school who knew were pretending they didn’t. They were keeping their mouths shut. Hiroki’s classmates as well, no doubt. It wouldn’t surprise her if the school had taken action to make sure no one tattled.

Yet Yuriko’s heart still stirred with doubt. She wanted to tell her parents. She wanted to tell them the truth, bitter though it was. She wanted them to see it as she did, to see how Hiroki had sacrificed himself for Michiru, and how close they had been.

But would Hiroki even want that? Would he want me to tattle?

One thing was for sure: If she did tell, there would be casualties. It could only make life more miserable for Michiru. She would blame herself again, just like she did when she had met U-ri the “book-spirit” in the school library. No matter how much her parents might try to console her, try to tell her it wasn’t her fault, she would continue to blame herself.

Yet wasn’t Yuriko blaming herself already? Poor Michiru was doomed either way.

And there was Ms. Kanehashi. She’d be affected too. She had already tried to take responsibility for the mess in her classroom, and it had done her no good at all. Still, she didn’t think her parents would blame Hiroki’s teacher for that. Rather, they would thank her for doing what she could to try to help. It might even help take some of the burden of guilt off her shoulders. Yuriko was in a position to help her.

So Yuriko ruminated. Which was the right path?

What would Hiroki want?

To this question she could find no answer. The more she thought about it, the less certain she felt. No observation or reasoning could divine the way out of her conundrum. When the light did shine down upon Yuriko’s path, it came from an unexpected direction, on a day in early summer, with vacation not far away.

“They really found a buyer?” Yuriko’s mother asked, stopping as she carried a plate in from the kitchen. “Somebody actually wants that dingy old place?”

Her father had come home and sat down at the dinner table that night when he suddenly announced that someone had called wanting to buy Ichiro Minochi’s belongings.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Mother,” her father replied. “No one’s buying the cottage. A man’s come inquiring about those books. Remember the ones in the reading room?”

His brother had called with the news that day at lunch, Yuriko’s father explained. “The buyer seemed quite eager. Wanted to make sure that we sold the entire library to him and no one else.”

The lawyer they had put in charge of the whole affair said it didn’t sound like a bad deal.

Yuriko sat down next to her mother and began to eat, all the while pricking up her ears to catch any scrap of information she could. Her heart was racing.

“Were those books really all that valuable?”

“Seems so. It’s difficult though to find a place that can appraise them, seeing as how some of them are downright ancient, and hardly any are in Japanese. Even if we hired an expert to come and do an appraisal, they wouldn’t be able to handle all of the books, and the appraisal fee would likely be out of this world.”

The lawyer was advising that they take advantage of the opportunity. It was the easiest way to deal with the matter by far.

“But then we’d just be taking whatever this buyer quotes us. What if one or two of those books are really worth something?” Yuriko’s mother protested. She was always worried about the bottom line. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Yuriko would rather have her worrying about the family finances than anything else.

“It’s certainly a possibility,” her father said with a chuckle. “The buyer is a used book salesman himself. And not just any used book salesman.” He leaned across the table with an air of importance. “He’s the manager of that store in Paris where Mr. Minochi had his heart attack.”

The store was located along the Seine. Its name, translated into Japanese, was The Bubbling Spring. The manager was a man of fifty-five by the name of Frans Culeur.

“The lawyer showed my brother a picture of him apparently. He’s a handsome old fellow. Looks like Jean Gabin.”

Her mother frowned. “Who’s Jean Gabin?”

The stirring in Yuriko’s chest grew into a realization.

Ichiro Minochi didn’t die in that bookstore. He went to the Haetlands, leaving his humanity—and his sanity—behind.

But no one here in the Circle, in Yuri’s region, doubted the story that her great-uncle had died in Paris.

Which means there was a very deft cover-up. And the owner of The Bubbling Spring was involved. Handsome old Frans is a wolf—and even if he isn’t, he knows about the nameless land and the Circle. How else could he
have helped Minochi get away?

And now this conspirator was trying to buy her great-uncle’s books.

“Well, I think we should sell them to him,” Yuriko said, playing the part of the precocious child. “It would sure make those books happy. I’ll bet some of them even came from this Bubbling Spring place.”

Her parents looked at each other.

Yuriko went back to eating, chewing her food while she chewed on another thought. If they sold the lot of books, there would be no more reading room. The books would leave the cottage.

Before that happens, I want to visit there again. To say goodbye.

It wasn’t difficult. She just had to mix a little bit of untruth in with the truth.

Hey, Mom. All that talk about the cottage last night made me remember something important…

Did you know Hiroki went back, after we visited that one time? With a teacher from school and one of his friends—

He told me to keep it a secret, and I guess I forgot about it. Sorry!

I remember the teacher’s name now. Ms. Kanehashi? Maybe she knows who the friend was.