Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [276]
A port city. He caught glimpses of a blue sea between buildings that looked like stacked warehouses. The warehouse walls, made of simple boards and pilings, had been painted with a design in yellow: a clenched fist. It must be a marker of some sort.
“That…that’s Sono,” Kee Keema said, warily squinting his eyes. “No mistaking it. Look at how old those buildings are, how they’re practically falling down. Sono used to be the busiest fishing port in Arikita, but when industry took off there, the sea became too polluted for fishing, and the town went to rust. They tried changing it to an industrial port, but the harbor had always been small, and they never were as successful as places like Hataya and Dakla.”
“Do any of the sailships go north from there?”
“No large ships use the port. But there are several medium-size vessels that might be able to make the passage.”
“So the fugitive is hiding here?” Wataru asked.
The Precept-King clutched the Mirror of Truth, his shoulders heaving with every breath. “He is waiting for a favorable wind. As you have probably heard, the sailships passing to the north must wait for the starseers’ word that the winds will move with them before they set out.”
“How often do these winds blow? “
Kee Keema scratched his thick neck and shrugged. “I don’t know for certain, of course—I’m no starseer. But this is certainly the season when most sailships make the journey. There are only about three or four times a year when that happens.”
“Then we have to hurry!” Meena said, her tail bobbing in the air. “We have to let everyone know: we’re looking for a shipping company with this mark of the fist.”
“So the mirror tells us. The fugitive seeks passage by boat. Perhaps it is the captain who hides him until the time is right?”
Kee Keema and Meena looked ready to run off instantly, but Wataru stood still. He was staring directly at the Precept-King’s black eyes, half hidden beneath his bushy white eyebrows. “What are these national secrets the fugitive is carrying? You must know.”
“We’ll just ask once we’ve caught him,” Kee Keema said impatiently.
The Precept-King slouched, falling over the arm of his chair. The motion revealed a horribly emaciated body under his white robes.
“The fugitive—that man used the Mirror of Truth to return to the real world, and brought back with him plans for a powered ship and a motor. He was going to take them to the north.”
Meena looked understandably confused. It was clear that not a word the man had said made any sense to her. Kee Keema too stood scratching his head.
Only Wataru seemed to get it. “He was going to sell that to the Northern Empire?” With a fleet of powered vessels at their command, the North would no longer have to brave the Stinging Mist or wait for the winds to turn in their favor. They could invade the South whenever they wanted.
“What does it mean, Wataru? Sell what? Why do you look so frightened?”
Wataru turned to Meena, and as simply as he could, told her briefly about engines and what a powered ship would mean in Vision. The impact of his words was clear. Rage burned deep in Meena’s eyes. “That’s insane! Why would a Traveler want to help the North like that? Why? Does he hate the South? Why would he want to destroy the peace in Vision?”
When the Precept-King answered, he spoke to Wataru, not Meena.
“He said it would bring about Vision’s industrial revolution.”
Meena stared blankly at the white-haired man.
“It’s something that happened in the real world,” Wataru explained, gritting his teeth.
Power. Mechanical power that didn’t rely on the strength of men. Wataru had thought of it many times since arriving here. More than half of the things that were done by physical strength here were done with motors in the real world. Wataru had been astonished by the difference it made on many occasions.
“I spoke with him many times on these matters,” said the Precept-King, half