Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [136]
“Don’t even think about trying to escape,” Trone said, baring his fangs in a grin. “Try to enjoy your last few meals in this life.”
Wataru lay back on the wooden bed. The shock and fear were so great he couldn’t even cry. As he lay there in a daze, he heard the sound of hammering drift through the thick bars of his window. He stood up on his tiptoes and looked outside to see men working, as promised, on a platform in the middle of a large square.
A gallows.
Just like in a Western movie, Wataru thought, and then his knees knocked together so fiercely he couldn’t stand. What do I do now? They’re really going to hang me.
Wataru wondered where his Brave’s Sword was. In the real world, they would search his belongings, but Wataru didn’t think they paid much mind to things like procedure around here. The innkeeper had probably taken it for himself. That little woman was probably using his Brave’s Sword to cut bread and vegetables by now.
What happens if I die in Vision? Do I go home? Does my body stay here?
Outside, the rhythmic hammering continued. Bang bang bang. The sound of lively conversation. Happy voices. Would he stay here, in the cell, until the gallows were completed? Would he even get a chance to defend himself?
The bars on the window and door were as thick as Wataru’s wrist, and shaking them or hitting them only made his hands hurt. Finally, he was able to cry. But no matter how loudly he wept, no one came to check on him.
After the sun had set, an ankha dressed similarly to Trone brought him dinner and a wool blanket. Wataru pleadingly asked him questions, but the large man merely pushed the food through the cell’s bars and left without saying a word.
“But I’m innocent!”
Wataru’s shout echoed sorrowfully down the hall.
Dinner was watery soup and stale bread. Wataru wasn’t hungry at all, so he curled up in a ball on the bed and cried himself to sleep.
But he slept in fits and starts, and had a bizarre dream. His mother was in it, and, for some reason, Kaori Daimatsu. She was trapped behind iron bars, just like Wataru. Her eyes were glistening, and she was staring at him. In his dream, Wataru realized that Kaori was a prisoner too—a prisoner in her own body, broken by some horrible crime. Unlike Wataru, her prison had no key. It didn’t even have a door.
—How do I get you out of there? he asked, but in the dream she didn’t respond, only looking down and shaking her head.
—Your dad and your brother, they’re worried about you.
Kaori looked up and whispered something. He couldn’t hear. What? What did you say? Talk louder. Louder—louder—
“Don’t make me shout, boy!”
Wataru jerked out of his dream. He was still curled up, trying to hide under his blanket. Kutz stood by the bed, hands on her hips, looking down at him with a sour expression. “Finally, you’re up,” she growled. “You’re a late sleeper, aren’t you? Do you know how many times I tried to wake you? I thought I’d go hoarse. Your mother must scold you something fierce.”
Wataru got out of bed, still hunched over. Maybe she was here because the gallows was ready. He couldn’t hear the hammers anymore.
Kutz’s mouth curled and she snorted. “You are free, boy. You’re lucky, you get to leave.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It made no sense.
“I said you’re free! Stop moping. If there’re two things I can’t stand, it’s mopey kids and wimpy men.”
Wataru looked up at her face in a daze and said the first thing that came to mind. “Why?”
Her mouth curled even more. “Why? Why? Because you’re no longer under suspicion, that’s why.”
“But why not?”
“Do you always ask so many questions? You’re free to go, isn’t that enough? If that doesn’t make you happy I can just close the door and leave you here, you know.”
Wataru dashed past her through the open door into the hallway. Kutz scratched her head and followed him. She kicked the cell door closed behind her.
“While you were in here last night, there