In a flat-bottomed, steep-sided valley lay a quiet, pastoral village,
surrounded by terraced rice paddies melting into the thick pine forest
which ran right up to the bare granite of the valley rim. A clear,
cold river came tumbling from a cliff at one end, then wandered
quietly across the valley floor and through the village center,
finally disappearing into a narrow canyon at the far end. The
midmorning sun shone down as the villagers streamed out into the
fields and began their daily work.
A little way apart, on a small, forested rise, sat a beautiful,
well-maintained shrine with a thick plank walk leading up to the gates
fastened across the _torii_ arch. With a soft click, these gates
opened, and a figure emerged -- a woman, her simple robe marking her
as a priestess. She was beautiful, with long dark hair and flawless
skin, and she might have been young but for her eyes, which held a
weariness and a wariness which spoke of long years come and gone.
Closing the gate behind her, she took a few steps, turning her head
this way and that with an air of bewilderment.
Up the walk came a middle-aged woman, this one wearing a rich silk
kimono of deep blue, her hair swept up regally and pinned in place.
"You've arrived at last," she called as she approached, catching the
attention of the other, whose eyes widened, then narrowed with
caution. "Our immortal priestess. We've sorely needed you here. The
people feel so lost without someone to tend to the shrine and the
spirits. They're grateful, generous people and I'm sure they'll make
you feel at home."
She smiled and waited. "Where am I?" came a response at last.
"Why, you're right here," she said. "In the village."
"What -- village?"
"Our village, of course." She bowed formally. "I am Number Two,"
she said, indicating a large, white button on her kimono, and the new
priestess saw that it was inscribed with a chrysanthemum and the
numeral two. "I am a sort of administrator for this village," she
continued. "Please feel free to come to me with any problems you
might have. I live over there" -- she gestured to an imposing house,
three or four stories high, on the far side of the village -- "across
the river. There is no bridge, but you will find a boat by the dock.
No appointment is necessary."
"Who is Number One?"
Number Two reached into a sleeve and produced another button. "You
are," she said, pinning it to the priestess's robe, just over her left
breast, "Number Six." She stepped back. "Wear this always. It shows
your place in the village, and will allow others to offer you the
respect that you deserve."
The priestess looked down at the button, which was identical to
Number Two's except for the numeral that it bore. "I am not a
number," she said.
Number Two laughed gently. "Do come see me when you have the time.
We have a little matter to clear up about the reason you resigned from
your last position."
"It was a matter of conscience," said the priestess, "and I won't
share it with you, so you can stop pretending to be my friend." She
removed the button and tossed it on the ground next to the path. "And
I don't want to have anything to do with your village, or your shrine,
or you. And I won't be held prisoner."
"Well, if you change your mind, said Number Two blandly, "You know
where to find me." She turned and left, leaving the priestess staring
tight-lipped at her retreating back.
The priestess found the boat where Number Two had promised, bumping
gently against the dock. She untied it, poled it into the current,
and sat down, letting the river take her. The boat glided between the
tree-lined banks past the houses and fields of the villagers, who
occasionally looked up and smiled at her. Soon the settled lands were
behind her, and the wild forest began to crowd the bank. The river
narrowed and swiftened. High rock walls loomed on either side as the
valley narrowed into a deep gorge. The priestess picked up the pole
and began to fend off rocks that approached and fell back as the boat
passed.
The river swiftened still more, and the walls on either side grew
lower. Rounding a bend, she saw the river ahead oddly cut off, as if
the horizon had advanced within shouting distance, or the sky had
invaded the canyon. Puzzled, she watched until the deep advancing
roar of the river made her understand. She poled the boat hastily out
of the current and toward one wall, trying to keep it steady as it
banged and scraped against the stones. As the edge approached, she
thrust the pole in a cleft and leaped. The boat spun away and swept
over the falls as she fell sprawled on a large boulder, fingers
gouging furrows in the thick moss as she struggled to keep from
rolling over the falls.
For a long time she lay there, gasping, eyes closed, cheek pressed
against the cold, wet stone. Then, gathering her courage, she sat up,
tossed her _geta_ in the river, which whisked them away like small
boats, and crept over the rocks to the lip of the falls, where she
began the long, slow, dangerous climb to the valley floor below.
The walls cast long shadows over the valley floor as she set off
again, walking barefoot through the woods with the water just in
sight. Eventually she found herself on a well-worn path, then on a
plank over a sluice diverting water from the river. The trees thinned
out, giving way to rice field, and she could see houses ahead.
Rounding a last bend, she let out a cry of frustration as she
recognized a large, familiar house, the shrine across the river, and,
between them, the very dock from where she had taken the boat.
The door to Number Two's house slid open as she approached. An old
servant, Number Seventy-Three by his button, bowed silently as she
entered and disappeared down a corridor, from which Number Two shortly
emerged, smiling.
"Hello, Number Six," she said. "I trust you enjoyed your trip?"
The priestess, with an effort, smiled back, although her fingertips
twitched slightly. Number Seventy-Three returned with a folded robe
and new _geta_ and ushered her into a small coatroom. When she
emerged, Number Two was seated at a low table and gestured for the
priestess to join her. Number Seventy-Three brought tea, and they
sipped in silence for a while.
"You created quite a stir when you left," said Number Two at length.
"Storming out, secure in your own righteousness ... your queen was
quite distraught, I hear. She wept for hours."
"Yes, she does that."
"You were powerful. Respected. Loved, even. You had wielded fire
and spirit in defense of your queen from time immemorial. Yet you
walked away from everything you ever loved. Your power, your position
-- your friends. What could cause that? I wonder."
"I told you -- a matter of conscience."
"Whose conscience?"
"Mine, of course," said the priestess, with a little asperity. She
finished her tea and rose.
"We are on your side," said Number Two quietly.
"Which side is that?"
"The right side."
"I see." The priestess smiled cryptically, and headed for the door.
"Thank you for the tea."
"All we want is a little information."
"You won't get it." The door opened, then closed as the priestess
left.
"By hook or by crook," said Number Two quietly, "we will."
-- David