Doubtless they were looking closely at her hands, to see which way the thumbs were on. And her expression, if it was what he thought it was, would lend them no confidence, Taizu standing there with her feet braced and her sword in both hands, crosswise.
There were bows, profound bows, the elders and the villagers to them both.
"We had not known—" the elder said.
He almost said: You know her. She was the boy who came through here two years ago. But prudence held his tongue—with the glimmer of an impious notion.
"My wife wants to see her homeland again," he said. "So I'm going away for a while." He heard the murmur of dismay and forged ahead quickly. "I've business to take care of. So I came to pay my courtesies to you, and thank you for your kindness—"
The elders bowed. The people did, a bending and a whisper like wind moving through a grain-field.
"But who will keep the bandits away?" an elder asked, setting off others asking the same question, a chorus of voices pleading with him.
"Quiet!" the eldest said, stamping the ground with his stick. "Quiet."
It took a moment. They were distraught. There was fear, there were looks toward Taizu, curiosity and resentment, and Jiro picked up the distress, stamping and fighting the bit: Shoka reined him tightly, for fear he would bite if someone came near—but no one was venturing that close.
"Pardon," the elder said, bowing. "Pardon, m'lord, m'lady, but who will keep us, then? The moment you go away, lord, the bandits will come down on us. They know we've been well-off, they know we've had good harvests. ..." There was panic in the old man's voice. There were pale faces, wide eyes all around, and a whisper of profound despair. "Stay with us," people began to wail.
"Be still!" Shoka said, and everyone hushed, except the children, who had begun to cry. "Listen to me. You're also well-fed, prosperous, and there are more of you than there are of the bandits, who haven't had the courage to attack you. I trust you haven't forgotten the bow or the staff in ten years. Any of you who want to go up to the cabin and take anything, that's perfectly fine: but I'd spread the word to travelers, the demons will never harm anyone from this village, but no one else should go up there. There are terrible things. You've heard them howling on the ridges, demons with eyes like lamps and fingers like ice. But this village is safe from them. It has special protection, and anyone who steals in this village and anyone who does any violence against this village, that man will never be safe. My wife and I will come and find him. Hear?"
Eyes were very wide. People bowed, pale of face, and mothers hushed babies with their hands.
"Tell every traveler," he said. "Make sure they carry that word."
Again the bows.
"Good luck to you," he said then, and let Jiro move, the elders clearing out of their path with multiple bows, the people melting back behind them.
So they passed through the street, with Taizu walking at Jiro's head, with people hurrying along behind them to call out wishes for good luck and wishes for them to come back soon, with people rushing up to wave scarves at them and to give him ribbons and flowers.
"They think I'm a demon!" Taizu said when they had left the last of the villagers behind—a last dog coursing after them to bark and annoy Jiro. Taizu turned a furious face on him.
"With a look like that, no wonder."
"Dammit, I'm not your wife!"
"Demons can turn their thumbs around the right way if they cast a spell. Can't they?"
"It's wicked, what you did! You lied to those people!"
"About what? Don't you believe in demons?"
"Demons aren't to mess with!"
"Maybe the bandits will think the same. That's no loss, is it?"
Taizu's mouth was open. She shut it and walked in silence a while.
"I'm leaving them," he said, "to take you to Hua. It's not their fault. The only thing they ever had to protect them was a story about me. So it's only fair I leave them a story in my place. Isn't it? They're losing the furs I used to trade them. That's a lot of money to them."
"I know that!"
"They're losing my protection."
"That's not my fault! You don't have to go with me!" She turned around and waved her bow at him, so Jiro shied up. "Go back! Go away!"
"With you or behind you, girl. You'd be hell to track, but then, I could always just meet you in Hua. Come to Gitu's gate and ask if he's seen a demon-wife who's been looking for him. ..."
"Don't joke!" She made a sign against devils. "You lied to those people!"
"I'm sure they'll put out rice and wine for the demons. I doubt the demons will object. Who knows, they might even protect the place."
"It's unlucky!"
"For the bandits, it is. Who knows, my wife might come after them."
"It's not funny, master Shoka!" Her face was red with anger. Tears shone in her eyes. "They'll get killed believing you!"
He regarded her sadly. "I know. But they'll fight better if they have hope. A lie is better than nothing. And a lie, lady wife, is all they ever believed in. What's better or worse in another fable?"
He shocked her. Completely. She looked away from him and walked on under her load, shaking her head. Eventually she stopped and looked back at him, and said, calmly, composedly: "Go back, please, go back—"
"Will you?" he asked, while Jiro, confused by this yea and nay, threw his head and worked the bit.
"No. I won't. But nobody knows me. They'll know you, and the soldiers will be hunting us, and we won't have a chance."
He smiled. "You're thinking. Good. So you've got me to look out for. And if you run off, the only thing I can do is go to Hua looking for you."
"They'll kill us both! Please go back."
"No," he said, in her tone, her exact tone; and she drew a long, trembling breath, turned and stalked on her way.
So he followed, at a pace Jiro found quite comfortable, beyond the fields of the village, beyond the further hills, where the trade road became a dusty track following the general line of the small river through grasses and rocks and occasional copses of trees. They were in Chiyaden now, in the province of Hoishi, on the track caravans went, from the kingdom of Shin through the barbarian lands of the Oghin to the civilized heart of the Empire, the Lap of Heaven. Home, Shoka kept thinking, and hating the thought, because home was back on the mountain, home had nothing to do with Chiyaden or its troubles, and he resisted that ambiguity. With all it meant.
They made camp that evening in the lee of a lump of rock, where the hills came close to the road, and where there was a spring and a wide place in the road where many a traveler had camped.
"This is too open," Taizu objected; to which he shrugged and said:
"So it is. Are you afraid already? Do you want to go home?"
"I am going home," she retorted, and sat down to unpack.
So he unsaddled Jiro, and set Jiro's gear carefully on the rocks to dry of sweat; and took off his armor and rubbed Jiro down with handfuls of grass before he thought about washing the dust off himself.
Sparks and fire glimmered where Taizu had coaxed a little fire out of their kit, feeding it with grass and small sticks and larger ones she had scoured up. He was washing at the spring when she came to fill their cooking pot with water.
"Wash," he said, feeling generous and wanting to make peace. "Take the armor off. I'll cook."