But there was agony in serving this foreigner who exploited my people, as there was agony in considering his betrayal.
My place of duty the following day was in the Judgement Hall as part of Lord Hassan's personal guard. The Prefect occupied his divan on the raised dais at the end of the hall. A servant stood beside him, a bowl of kiwi grapes in her hands, from which he helped himself from time to time. Around his fat neck was a silken band, and one of the luck charm pendants Holmes had been selling dangled at his breast.
‘First on the day's agenda,’ he said. 'On the matter of the street hawkling, Holmes. He still owes a considerable debt to the Company, which, unfortunately, he is no longer able to pay. His account shall be settled today, through his surviving family.'
The family was there, in the hall before him. Holmes's wife was an older woman, once beautiful, but careworn and ragged now in the widow's white garb of mourning. His son was tall and lean and heavily muscled, with defiance and dread mingled in his eyes. Holmes's daughter, a slender girl in her early teens, was radiantly beautiful. Where her father had been short and dark, she was tall, with long auburn hair and eyes haunting in their fear.
‘You!' Hassan barked from his divan. His hand indicated the mother. ‘Old woman. You can do housework, I suppose? Clean? Cook?'
‘Y-yes, Lord...’ Her voice was rough and tortured, her eyes on the luck charm around Hassan's throat.
Then you shall be found work as a domestic. I know an official in the Company who can use your services at his estate. Two years, indentured service. You.' He scowled at the boy. The Company will be able to use you. The Ginoyama mines for you, I'd say. Three years' indenture.’ His eyes fell on the daughter, and the expression on his face made it clear that he'd been saving the best for last. ‘For you, my dear, I think we can find something very, very special.'
He beckoned, but the girl was unable to move. She was shaking, her arms folded in front of her.
‘Come forward!' he demanded. 'Guard! Bring her to me!’
One of the other Guidance Corpsmen in the room took her by one arm and walked her up to Hassan. Hassan watched them approach, his eyes sparkling with unconcealed anticipation. ‘I'd like to have a better look at you, my dear. Undress. Display for us your charms...'
'I protest!’
The shout from across the hall caught everyone by surprise. Hassan half rose from his divan, glowering at the interruption.
Okabi stood in the hall, the light from skylight above gleaming along the curve of the wakizashi,the short sword, in his hand. Okabi was off duty this day, and for that reason alone would not have been permitted to enter the Judgement Hall with a weapon, but the formal wakizashiwas counted on Kawabe more as personal ornament than weapon, an emblem of honorable citizenship for anyone of the warrior class. The blade held aloft, he approached Hassan's divan, stopped, and kneeled ten paces before the Prefect's dais. Weapons around the room swiveled to cover him, ready to cut him down, but his posture and his expression froze every man in the place.
'I protest. Lord,' Okabi said again. He was not wearing his Guidance Corps uniform, of course, but a simple white robe over tunic and trousers. He loosened his belt as he knelt, then brought the knife down to his stomach, and I knew at that moment that he was preparing to commit seppuku.To die to save his honor.
Okabi must have felt trapped, as I felt trapped, caught between his obligation to his lord and his own sense of what was right and wrong. Unable to resolve the conflict, he was about to choose the one alternative that would give him an honorable way out. I saw Hassan's eyes widen with surprise. As a native of another warrior people, he would know what it meant to face death, but I wondered if he understood the conflict his actions had set afire within Okabi...and in myself.
'You'll stain the floor. Okabi,' Hassan said slowly. His eyes found mine. ‘You... guard. Take his knife before he hurts someone.'
I stepped forward, my feet leaden. Okabi watched me come, the blade still catching the light, grasped between his hands wilh the point against his belly.
When does a master cease being a master? When he behaves like an animal, a creature no longer worthy of respect? Or when the servant is forced to choose between personal virtue and the empty ritual of service to another?
Three long strides took me to Hassan's side, the shotgun slung from my arm coming up against his head. The other guards in the room started, then leapt forward.
'Halt!' I cried. There was a moment of chaos, as voices babbled confusion and anger Okabi's eyes met mine, dark and unreadable. 'Silence! Silence everyone!' The voices died away, and the hall was silent except for a low and unsteady whimpering coming from the man beside me. I held Hassan's head with one arm, the muzzle of the shotgun pressed against his face with the other. 'One move without my saying so. and l shorten him by a head!'
'No...no!’ Hassan was sobbing, his eyes bulging with terror. 'Please...Yancey, isn't it? We can talk, Yancey! We can talk!'
I jabbed him to silence with the gun and fixed my eyes on Okabi. The Corpsman had not moved since I'd made my move. 'Okabi! Your death would be meaningless here!'
'If it is my death,’ he replied quietly, 'it is not meaningless.'
'But your life can have more meaning than your death.’ I nodded toward the girl, still standing a few paces away, then toward the mother and son. Take them...get them out of here.’ I saw indecision struggle with pain behind his eyes. 'Please, Okabi! Quickly!’
‘My responsibility is to my sworn lord, to Hassan...’
‘Your sworn lord is going to be dead in a few minutes! I am releasing you from your oath! Do you understand?’ Hassan certainly understood. He twisted in my grip, struggling wildly, and I nudged him with my gun.
Okabi struggled a moment more. Then calm returned behind those dark eyes. The wakizashiHashed again as he tucked it back into his belt. ‘You!’ I nudged Hassan again 'Give the orders to let them go, or you die a messy death.’
'Do...do as he says! Do as he says!'
‘You!' I nodded toward the guard who had brought the girt forward. 'Give Okabi your headset.’
The guard removed his headgear and handed the radio transcerver to Okabi. who clipped it to his ear and opened a private circuit. ‘What the hell are you doing, Yancey?’ I heard him mutter, checking that the line was open.
‘Learning to live with myself,' I said. 'This has been building for a long time, ever since this...this animal came to power.’
‘You can't get away with this,’ Hassan said, wiggling against my headlock.
'Maybe not. But I'll tell you this. I'll be listening as Okabi takes these people out of here If he's stopped, if he's fired at. I’ll know it. and you will die.'
'Don’t kill me!’
‘Give the order! Let them go!’
I knew then that the stories of Hassan being a member of a warrior sect were lies. No warriorwould have begged for his life... or given in to my demand. I backed up with my prisoner away from the divan until my back was against the wall, and held him there in a death's grip, my gun against his head, waiting for endless minutes until I heard Okabi's voice in my earpiece again.
'We're clear. Yance. The lady says she knows someone...someone who'll smuggle us out of the city. Seems there's a fair-sized underground here.'
‘Not surprising.’ I said. ‘Not with a monster like this in charge.'
'Her son has gone to get help.’ I heard Okabi chuckle.'He's coming back with a guy now. Yance! It's the guy we saw yesterday, the farmer...remember?*
‘I remember. Good luck. Okabi.’
Thank you. What about you?’
‘Taken care of.’
‘Then, good luck. Yancey.'
‘What is it you want. Yancey?’ my captive asked as Okabi broke the com link. I released him then, keeping my back to the wall and my shotgun pointed at his chest. He watched me warily as he rubbed his sore neck. 'What do you want?' he asked again. 'Every man has his price, and I can meet yours! All you have to do is name it...’