Kasumi the Wayfarer
A Ranma 1/2 #FanFiction
By Jeremy Harper
Disclaimer - Ranma 1/2 is the creation of Rumiko Takahashi and is used without permission.
Chapter 1 A Long Desired Return
From the top of the stairs Kasumi called down, "I'm going to bed now. Good night."
"Good night," her sisters and Ranma replied in unison. The television's audio was set low, so they could hear her gentle footsteps and the shutting of her bedroom door. Ranma glanced at the stairs then at the digital clock set in the VCR.
"Kasumi goes to bed pretty early," he commented. "It's only ten o'clock, and tonight's a Saturday to boot."
"Well, Kasumi has a lot of chores on Sunday and she likes to finish them early," Akane explained. "She's very responsible, unlike some people around here I could mention."
"Huh," Ranma snorted. "I also guess that she needs more beauty sleep than certain tomboys I could mention."
"Jerk."
"Macho chick."
Nabiki just rolled her eyes and watched this latest exchanged with veiled amusement. Since the fiasco of a wedding that had occurred a few weeks ago the arguments between Akane and Ranma had deescalated, becoming playful - almost affectionate - teasing instead of the cacophonic shouting matches that were once their norm. It could still be annoying though. Nabiki turned up the TV's volume with the remote.
In her bedroom Kasumi couldn't hear the good-natured bickering. She sat at her dresser, clad in her nightgown, looking into the mirror as she brushed her long hair. Her expression was dreamy, her gentle brown eyes wistful, almost longing. "Maybe tonight, finally..." she murmured to herself. She set down her hairbrush, rose to her feet and walked to her bed. She slipped under the covers, checked the clock on her nightstand to make sure the alarm was set then switched off her lamp. She pulled her covers up to her shoulders and laid on her back, staring into the gentle, friendly darkness. "Maybe tonight," she murmured again. She folded her hands below her breasts, closed her eyes and with practiced ease fell instantly to sleep.
*****
A pleasant warmth enveloped Kasumi. From a middle distance she heard birdsong, mellifluous, sweet to the ear, yet queerly alien in a way that she would be hard pressed to describe if asked to explain. A cool breeze caressed her gently, almost with a lover's touch. Leaves rustled, branches creaked. Kasumi opened her eyes, and found herself standing in a forest glade. Great oaks and maples surrounded her, their foliage hued a deep, dark emerald and the grass of the sward, verdantly luxuriously. A noontime sun blazed in a sky bluer than any she'd ever seen in Japan. She looked down, and found herself not in a nightgown, or one of her housedresses, but a flowing white blouse, trimmed with fine lace, and brown deerskin breeches. Instead of house slippers one her feet she wore sturdy leather boots, their cuffs flared and folded. A sash of fine purple silk wound about her waist, tied in a knot at her right hip; a saber sheathed in a fine leather scabbard was thrust into it by her left hip. A large satchel hung from a baldric slung across her chest. She raised her hands - covered in gloves of kidskin - and took off her hat. Its broad brim was folded up slightly on one side, and a shimmering blue-green peacock's feather adorned the band that wrapped the base of its crown. She wore no ribbon in her hair; it flowed down past her shoulders in waves, free and unbound.
Kasumi threw back her head and laughed joyously. "I'm back!" she cried, throwing her hat in the air, pirouetting gracefully. She caught her hat and set it on her head and laughed again. "I'm finally back!" After a stint of unwanted exile Kasumi had returned to the dreamlands she had lived and wandered in for nearly a decade. She first dreamed of this realm not long after her mother's death and since that first fateful vision she explored and wandered its length and breadth almost every night. Here she was not Kasumi Tendo, the meek, primly proper, staunchly traditional daughter of Soun Tendo. Instead she was Kasumi the Wayfarer, swordswoman, itinerant adventurer, bold and resourceful. But recently the dreamlands had been barred from her. Worries for her little sister, abducted by the bird folk of Junsendo, and the stresses caused by the chaotic wedding her father and Uncle Saotome had arranged somehow inhibited her from dreaming. But after Akane's safe return and her improving relationship with Ranma the fears and anxieties had eventually dissipated; peace had returned to Kasumi's house, her exile was over. She laughed one more time before taking her locale into deeper consideration.
Kasumi looked about the forest glade, her lips quirking into a small half-frown. She knew these woods. It was the Enchanted Forest, a woodland both beautiful and perilous. Strange creatures roamed its twisting trails, many of which craved human flesh. Kasumi had hoped she could have willed herself to someplace more hospitable- Ulthar, for example, which lay to the west of the forest, situated along the winding banks of the River Skai. She had managed such feats before, often saving herself much tedious journeying. Still, she was not overly concerned. She had traveled through the Enchanted Forest many times before, and as long as one kept wary and alert it was not too hazardous a place.
Kasumi shut her eyes and meditated for a moment. She realized that the spells she last memorized had faded from her mind. She opened her eyes, loosened her saber in its sheath, and sat down in the shade of one of the larger trees. From her satchel she produced a small, slim volume- her grimoire. Kasumi was no true sorcerer, but over the years she learned a few things about magic. Her mind was supple and strong, and with some effort could encompass some of the more straightforward of mystical formulae. Leafing through her grimoire she selected two spells she deemed would be useful for the short walk to Ulthar - the Charm of Alacritous Motion and the Spell of the Slow Hour. She poured over the incantations, pondering the strange logic they represented, forcing the enigmatic syllables into her mind, where they writhed and twisted in protest. Kasumi closed her eyes, covering them with a hand, and in a moment the turmoil subsided. She sighed in relief, snapping shut the book and returning it to her satchel. She rose, glancing up at the sun. It had just started its decline. With speed and good fortune she should reach Ulthar before sunset. Picking out a trail to the west, she headed off, whistling happily.
The trail snaked through the trees, curving gently and twisting treacherously in turns. It hunched roughly up rises, poured rapidly down slopes. Kasumi walked it with wide, confident strides, surefooted and swift. She whistled or sang when she could spare the breath to help pass the time, un-fearful of the forest, but not unwary, keeping her saber close at hand and her spells foremost in her mind. As she walked along the trail she saw many of the forest's denizens going about their simple business- birds, squirrels, a few times a deer foraging in the underbrush or in clearings. More unusual creatures also caught her eye. Plump Zoogs the size of tanuki poked their round, furry faces cautiously through the foliage of their trees to peer at her curiously. Scintillant mynahr birds flitted from bough to branch, their emerald and ruby plumage glittering in the sunlight, quite literally sang for their supper. More than once Kasumi shook her head to clear it of the hypnotic cobwebs the mynahr's music wove. A twk-man buzzed by, mounted on a golden dragonfly, raising his lance in friendly salutation as he passed; Kasumi reciprocated with a wave of her hand. Once a butterfly dragon crossed her path, floating serenely through the trees, its large prismatic wings barely stirring in the air. Kasumi observed its grace and beauty in silent admiration.
After a few hours of uneventful travel Kasumi came across a glen where a silvery brook burbled quietly to itself. She thought she recognized it. Scaumanu's Brook, if she were correct- named after the forester from Ulthar that discovered it. It was the westernmost source of water in the Enchanted Forest, quite close to the woods' periphery. From here Ulthar was perhaps five miles walk. Kasumi doffed her hat and wiped her brow with a handkerchief from her pocket. The water looked refreshing; Scaumanu's Brook was renowned in the area for its purity. She walked to its bank and kneeled down, putting her hat to one side. Small, colorful fish swan in the current, poking about the rocks, silt and plants. She wished she had some line and tackle with her. Roasted fish would have tasted nice after tramping through the Enchanted Forest. She peeled off her gloves and placed them neatly in her hat. She washed her hands, laved the sweat from her face and drank deeply from the brook, quaffing down handfuls of water to quench her dry throat. She sighed contentedly and delicately wiped her mouth with her kerchief.
A faint rustling sounded behind her, from the far side of the glen. The small, fine hairs on the back of neck rose as a premonitory chill danced down it. Kasumi spun around swiftly, rising into a crouch. Her saber rasped free from its scabbard. Something crawled towards her through the thick sward, something lusterless black, large as a man. It froze statue-still when it spied her movement, then rose up serpentine from the ground. It would have looked like a man, a handsome man dressed in leather harness, if not for the gleaming fangs so prominent in its mouth, the iron claws curving from its digits, the large, murky yellow eyes with the slit, cat-like pupils.
Kasumi straightened her stance and pointed her saber at the creature. 'A deodand,' she thought. 'What ill-fortune.' The deodand smiled widely. Its eyes raked greedily over her body. A long, too narrow tongue flitted across its fangs. She could feel radiating from it the intensity of its anthropophagic cravings. They struck her almost like a physical blow. It held out its hands out to either side as if in friendly welcome and spoke, its voice a resonant baritone.
"Ah, I recognize you now," the deodand crooned. "Kasumi the Wayfarer. You are as beautiful, as... delectable... as the stories say. You have strayed quite far from your usual haunts, I think."
"I have no usual haunts. I have traveled farther than you can imagine," Kasumi answered. "I wander as I will, beholden to no one and causing no harm without just provocation. It is a philosophy that would profit you this day to adopt, deodand." Kasumi twisted her wrist, making a tight cut in the air with the tip of her saber.
"What barbaric times we live in, when just-met strangers make such boorish and unwarranted threats," the deodand murmured pettishly. "Your sword looks fine, though. How it catches the sunlight! Is it sharp?"
"Quite sharp, and very strong. It was wrought by the smiths of Kaiin, the finest swordmakers in the world." Kasumi flourished the weapon in question. "Note well the rune of puissance engraved on the blade, the blessed ribbon tied above the pommel. It is a weapon of the highest quality, and I am proficient in its use."
"Yes, yes, but do you think that will be enough, when brought to the task? I have heard that you know something of magic, Kasumi. Are you with spells today?"
"I am. The spells I know are of excellent brevity and power. You will have to find your supper elsewhere, deodand."
"Perhaps, but I think not." With a slim claw the deodand pointed over Kasumi's shoulder. "Even now my brother comes behind you, foolish girl. He shall strike your head off your shoulders ere you blink."
Kasumi turned quickly, raising her saber to ward off an attack. But nothing was behind her, and the deodand sprang as she turned. But Kasumi expected such treachery and jumped back, the monster's claws missing her by the thickness of her skin. It pivoted to strike at her again and she uttered urgently the Spell of the Slow Hour. The air twisted and shimmered about the deodand, and its motions slowed by half, then by half again. Kasumi almost casually stepped out of the way of its lethargically swung claw then lunged with her saber. The blade flashed three times, piercing the deodand once through the shoulder, twice through the chest, high and low. The air shimmered around the deodand again. It fell writhing to the ground, blood spurting on the grass, staining the verdant stalks black. Grimacing in distaste Kasumi dispatched it, stabbing it through the throat. The deodand twitched once violently and lay still.
Kasumi wiped her saber on the sward, cleaning it of blood. Her lips were pursed in a tight, thin line. What an unfortunate way for her return to her dreamlands to begin. She wished no harm to any creature, but she was worldly enough to understand that not all shared such an enlightened belief. Her sojourns had made her pragmatic; if threatened by unreasoning violence she was more than capable of making the offender regret his incivility. But she would never like doing so. Pointedly avoiding looking at the deodand's corpse, she sheathed her saber, donned her hat and gloves and started west. She heard more rustling in the underbrush and looked over her shoulder. Several zoogs had waddled out of hiding, eagerly approaching the slain deodand, licking their furry lips. Kasumi grimaced and left the glen as swiftly as her dignity would allow.
Another hour of walking passed before Kasumi reached the end of the Enchanted Forest. She stepped free from the tree line and the thick shadows, out onto a grassy rise. The Skai River Valley stretched out before her, green, pleasant and peaceful. On the far horizon the sun wearily sank behind the sharp, distant peaks of the Magnatz Mountains, its tired light painting the valley in red and shadows, transmuting the River Skai into a curving line of ruddy gold. A cool breeze blew from the west. Kasumi sat down in the grass, taking off her hat and drawing her knees to her chest, content to watch the sunset for a few minutes in quiet introspection. Along the southern banks of the River Skai were the neat, white cottages of the town of Ulthar. She could see the villagers, made miniscule by distance, going about their last minute chores, preparing to settle in for the night after a day of honest labor. Boatmen moored their craft at the dock. Storekeepers closed the shutters of their shops. Housewives called their children in from play. One by one lamps and candles flickered on in the cottages. Kasumi stood up and descended down a well-trod trail leading to the village. Twilight had come and was swiftly darkening when she reached Ulthar. She made her way to the inn she favored, her boots clicking on the streets' cobblestones. Few people were out, but those who saw her greeted her warmly, for she was well known and liked in Ulthar. She returned their welcomes with bright smiles, glad to have finally returned. She had grown up in this town, playing with the town children, consorting with its numerous, ubiquitous cats, learning the ways of these dreamlands at the feet of far-flung travelers. In many ways Ulthar was more of her home then the house in Tokyo she had been born in. Kasumi dearly loved her father and her sisters, but here in Ulthar she was free, free to be the type of woman she wished she could be in the waking world, unfettered by the duties of house and home that had been thrust upon her when she was so young...
Kasumi sighed and shook her head, banishing such melancholy ruminations from her mind. She entered a large two-story building, a wooden sign hanging over its door, an illustration of a tankard brimming with foam painted on it. Lamps and the roaring fireplace brightly illuminated the inn's common room. The many patrons ate, drank and chattered merrily. The master of the Overflowing Tankard, old Ranson, welcomed Kasumi, waddling out from behind the bar and giving her a fatherly hug. Kasumi laughed and kissed him on the cheek. He beamed happily and escorted her to a table near the fireplace, ordering one of his serving maids to fetch food and fine wine. They talked for a little while before duty called him away, Ranson informing Kasumi of events great and small that had passed during her absence. She listened with interest, and ate her dinner of gamebird, soup, cheese and bread with gusto, her appetite sharp after the long hike from the Enchanted Forest. Night wore on, and one by one people retired, seeking their rooms or houses. Kasumi was content to sit before the fire, staring into it drowsily and sipping sweet wine. Finally she yawned and inquired to Ranson about a room for the night. He led her upstairs to a large chamber, its window overlooking the inn's courtyard, and bid her goodnight. Once her door was shut and locked she set aside her saber and satchel and untied her sash. Along with her hat and gloves she placed them neatly on a chair. She stepped to the window, opening its shutters so she could look up at the night sky. The stars twinkled, diamonds strewn on black velvet; the moon floated among them, flat and full, glowing with a diffused, white light. Kasumi shut her window and undressed for bed. She slipped into bed, naked under the blankets, and quickly fell into a pleasant slumber.
*****
Nabiki watched her sister as she hummed happily to herself as she prepared breakfast. "You seem chipper today Kasumi," she commented.
Kasumi nodded. "Yes, I had a very good night's sleep."
"Oh? Did you have any interesting dreams?" Nabiki asked, grinning. Kasumi paused and looked at her younger sister with a small, pursed smile. Something mischievous flashed in her brown eyes.
"Well, I did have a few dreams, but I doubt they would be of any interest to you, Nabiki. Could you go tell everyone that breakfast will be ready shortly?"
Nabiki blinked, a little puzzled by her older sister's demeanor. "Ah, sure Sis." She left the kitchen with a thoughtful expression. Nabiki thought she knew how to read people, deduce their intentions and tendencies, but Kasumi had always been an enigma to her. She seemed so simple, yet sometimes Nabiki sensed hidden depths within her... Nabiki shook her head and called her extended family down to breakfast.
Author's Notes
The dream realm Kasumi adventures in is an unsubtle amalgamation of H.P. Lovecraft's Dreamlands and Jack Vance's Dying Earth.
Comments and criticism are welcome, and can be directed to DorianVal@aol.com.
Thank you for your time and tolerance,
Jeremy Harper
Chapter 2 Of Kittens Bearing Tales
Kasumi settled down at the living room table with a sigh. Sipping her tea, she looked out into the backyard, contemplating the koi pond and rock garden. A radio played music, barely audible. The day's chores were done and she had nothing to do until Nabiki, Akane and Ranma got home. The house was empty; Father and Uncle Saotome had gone out to an early neighborhood watch meeting and she was grateful for the silence for she felt oddly tired, and for the life of her could not figure a reason why. The housework had been no more onerous than usual. She wondered briefly if her return to her dreamlands was the cause of her fatigue. Perhaps during her absence she had somehow gotten... out of shape, for lack of a better term. It seemed a silly conjecture, especially since she felt so wonderful this morning - better than she had felt in over a month, in fact. But it was the only plausible reason she could think of that could explain this sudden weariness.
Kasumi drank another sip of tea and dismissed her concerns. No doubt she would be better the next morning. Thinking of tomorrow made her recall that she needed to take a quick inventory of the refrigerator and pantries to see what was needed when she went out shopping. She also should remember to drop in at the clinic and return the book on shiatsu she borrowed from Doctor Tofu. Her lips quirked into a smile; the good Doctor was such an amusing and silly man. It always brightened her day to see his antics. It was a shame that he didn't behave with a little more decorum, though. He was quite handsome. Kasumi blushed at that errant thought and brushed it away. In all seriousness she found it hard to reconcile the Doctor Tofu she knew with the Tofu Father, Akane and Ranma spoke of with affection and respect.
A figure jumped over the wall and landed on all fours on the far side of the koi pond, slightly startling Kasumi. She set down her tea and looked at Ranma as he crouched on his haunches, glancing about with casual deliberation. Satisfied, he leaped over the pond and padded up to the porch, still on all fours. He meowed out a greeting. Kasumi couldn't help but laugh. She spoke to Ranma, pitching her voice in a soft, purring lilt.
"Oh my, whatever happened to you Ranma?" Ranma meowed in response. "You don't know? Oh well. Whatever are we going to do with you? You're always getting into so much trouble." Ranma's responding meow sounded indignant. Kasumi laughed again. "Yes, I know it's not usually your fault. Well, I think Akane will be home soon looking for you. Would you like some milk while you wait?"
They were in the kitchen - Ranma sloppily drinking milk from a saucer, while Kasumi watched him in amusement - when they heard the front door open and Akane call out a greeting. Ranma's head snapped up from the saucer, his eyes large and bright, with a large smile stretched across his face. He shot out of the kitchen like a lightning bolt, nearly crashing into the wall in his haste. Kasumi followed behind at a more sedate pace. She caught up with him in the foyer, snuggling in the lap of a rather out of breath looking Akane. He was purring quite loudly; Kasumi translated in her head what he declared to the entire world mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. She smiled good-naturedly at his uninhibited display of frankness, but a trace of wistfulness crept into her eyes as she looked at him and her oblivious little sister.
"He seems happy to see you, Akane," said Kasumi.
Akane laughed and blushed a little. "I guess so. Has he been home long? I hope he hasn't been underfoot."
"No, not long. He was a bit noisy when he came in, but he quieted down when I gave him some milk."
"Figures. He has a bottomless stomach, no matter what." Akane scratched Ranma around an ear. His purring intensified.
"So how did he get into the Neko-ken this time?" Kasumi asked.
"Shampoo. She asked him out and when he said 'no' she splashed herself and chased him around. He tripped on the sidewalk and by the time I booted her off he'd gone cat and dashed off before I could call him back."
"I should have guessed..." Akane paused in her scratching. Ranma meowed in protest but she ignored him, looking closely at her older sister. "Are you all right, Kasumi? You look tired."
Kasumi hesitated a moment before answering. "I AM feeling a little peaked. I... I don't think I slept as well as I should have." She admitted the last part with reluctance.
Akane pushed Ranma off of her lap, stood up and walked over to her. "Maybe you should lie down for a little while."
"I think you are right. In fact, I think I'll go to bed now. I'm sure I'll feel better after a long sleep."
Akane nodded almost eagerly. "Okay. I'll cook supper, then. There's a new recipe in my cookbook I want to try out."
"No Akane."
"But..."
"I said 'no', Akane," Kasumi said with uncharacteristic force. "If you want you can help with dinner tomorrow, but for tonight just order some take-out."
"O- okay Sis," Akane answered, surprised and a little stung by Kasumi's tone. Kasumi just nodded and made her way upstairs to her bedroom. Akane watched her, stroking Ranma's head, finding comfort in his purrs.
Kasumi sat in front of her mirror, brushing her hair and frowning. She knew now definitely that she was out of sorts. It was not like her to be cross with Akane; she couldn't figure out why she had spoken to her like that. Kasumi set down her brush and looked down at her hands folded in her lap.
"I know why," she finally whispered. "I'm jealous of her. She has a life outside of the family, and she has someone who loves her very much. What do I have to fulfill me, besides the responsibilities of caring for my father's house? Who do I have to love me? No one..." Kasumi sighed deeply as she got into bed. "But at least I have my dreams. No one can take those away from me..."
**********
In her bed at the Foaming Tankard Inn Kasumi the Wayfarer stirred, awoken by the lusty crowing of a rooster greeting the Sun. She sat up, stretched luxuriously and threw off her blankets, the cares and burdens of the waking world forgotten. Stepping out of bed, she donned the clean cloth robe and slippers old Ranson supplied all his guests with, gathered up her own clothes and gear and walked out to the bathhouse in the inn's back courtyard. Being the only woman guest at the inn right now, she had the ladies' portion of the baths to her self. So she took her time, pampering herself with hot water and soap, washing away the musk she acquired traveling yesterday. Once finished she quickly memorized a cantrip from her grimoire and used it to clean and freshen her clothes. It was a useful spell for travelers, one she wished she had in her other life. She frowned a little at the thought. She did not like thinking of her other life while in her dreamlands. Still frowning, her mood now somber, she dressed and left the bathhouse.
A chorus of mews greeted her. Two kittens dashed across the courtyard towards her- one black with a white tip on its tail, the other completely white. They twined around her legs, pressing their cheeks against her boots, purring happily. Kasumi laughed merrily, her previous somberness banished. She knelt down to stroke them.
"Hello Whitetip. Hello Snowchild. It's wonderful to see you again. My have you grown! I hope you've been taking good care of Ranson while I've been gone." Kasumi lilted her speech in the purring manner she had used with Ranma. As a child she befriended the cat community of Ulthar and learned their language. The cats loved her dearly - especially the young ones - and she returned their affection fully.
"Lady Kasumi, Lady Kasumi, have you heard what we've heard?" the kittens said to her in tandem.
Kasumi smiled and continued to pet them. "I don't think I have. I've just returned to Ulthar after a long hiatus. Do you wish to tell me?"
"We do," the kittens said. Kasumi scooped them up in her arms and walked over to an oak bench set against the wall of the inn. She sat down, settling the kittens in her lap and scratched them behind their ears.
"Now my clever kittens, tell me what you know." The kittens purred at her praise and launched into their tale.
"We were down by the Skai," began Whitetip.
"Yes, playing tag and chasing butterflies," added Snowchild.
"Yes. I was chasing Snowchild when a Twk-Man came flying by."
"He was riding a golden dragonfly so large it could have carried us away!"
"He asked us if we wished to trade with him, for he had important news."
"So we gave him a red ribbon."
"Yes. It was a good, new ribbon. All bright and shiny."
"And he told us something wonderful..."
Here the kittens paused for a moment. Kasumi scratched them under their chins. "So, what was this wonderful thing the Twk-Man told you?" she asked. The kittens looked at each other, then around the courtyard to make sure no one was eavesdropping. They stared up at Kasumi, their golden eyes wide with excitement.
"Mazirian the Magician is dead!" Whitetip whispered.
"He'll no longer threaten and frighten with evil deeds and dark spells," added Snowchild.
Kasumi's eyes grew wide in surprise and disbelief. "Are you sure?" she whispered back to them. They nodded emphatically.
"The Twk-Man said he saw Mazirian die with his own two eyes," said Whitetip.
"Twk-Men don't lie," said Snowchild. "You know that, Lady Kasumi."
"You're right," admitted Kasumi. "But Mazirian was as cunning as he was cruel. It is hard to believe that he is dead... How did it happen?"
"The Twk-Man said Mazirian chased a strange woman all throughout the Forest of Skai, and spent all his magic in the pursuit."
"She led him through a grove of Thrash Vines. The Vines whipped her near to death and killed Mazirian outright."
"The Twk-Man also saw a strange man leave Mazirian's home, carrying that poor woman away."
"The Manse of Mazirian the Magician now lies open, undefended by its master."
Kasumi did not speak for several moments, thinking hard on this story. Shaking out of her reverie, she proceeded to pet the kittens thoroughly, thanking them for bringing this news and asking them persuasively to refrain from telling others about it for a few days. The kittens purred happily and agreed. She took them to the kitchen, fetching them a saucer of cream as a reward. She left them behind, drinking happily, as she left the inn.
Kasumi wandered the white cobblestone streets of Ulthar deep in thought, greeting those who hailed her abstractly. She eventually found herself at the docks. A wind blew over the Skai from the East, damp and soothing, the smell of the river pleasing, for the folk of Ulthar knew better than to foul it, so not to offend the aquatic Gnorri that lived farther down current, or the God Skai himself. Kasumi stood at the very end of a pier, out of the way of the passengers disembarking from a moored boat, recently arrived from up-river. She doffed her hat, holding it by her side, and looked out over the Skai, gazing at the dark forests that lay on its other side.
Kasumi knew much of Mazirian, though all of her knowledge came from second hand sources. She had never met the magician in the flesh, thankfully. His reputation was dire, his cold, clinical cruelty and greed for sorcerous secrets renowned. He had made many foes in his long quest for knowledge; he had stolen lore from the great King Kuranes, founder of Celephais, and Prince Kandive the Golden, ruler of Kaiin. That Mazirian crossed such dangerous men and managed to live long after the fact was testament to his own power and ruthless cunning. For as long as she could remember the inhabitants of the region feared him and were thankful that he had little use for the common run of folks, thus rarely emerging from his manse and his gardens to trouble them.
Now Mazirian was dead, and that manse - a renovated ruin of a castle so ancient not even the Wise had the slightest inkling of its founders - and those gardens were vulnerable. Kasumi did not doubt the kittens' story; the veracity of Twk-Men was proverbial throughout the known world. She wondered about the marvels Mazirian was said to have collected... treasures from centuries past, charms and devices constructed by artifice long forgotten, spells and incantations of incredible cogency... all of it waiting for one daring enough to claim it. It also helped that she, as far as she knew, was the only one to know about this opportunity.
Kasumi rubbed her chin thoughtfully. She was not of an avaricious nature. Money she found useful, but it meant little to her, and she sought spells to aid her with her adventures, not as a means to gather power or dominion. But like the cats of Ulthar her curiosity was great; she wanted to see the legendary gardens Mazirian cultivated, to examine the artifacts he horded, to browse through his grimiores and lorebooks, just for the sake of doing so. And once curiosity had been satisfied she'd leave, maybe with a bauble that caught her fancy and a spell or two added to her repertoire. But she couldn't help but think that perhaps this adventure could prove to be too much for her alone. The Forest of Skai was in some ways more dangerous than the Enchanted Forest, for in addition to monsters and neomorphs men dwelt there- brigands for the most part, as savage and sadistic as any deodand or moon-beast. And then there was the matter of the manse itself. Mazirian may be dead, but magicians of his stature often left unpleasant surprises for those who sought to impose on their hospitality while they were away. The course of wisdom suggested recruiting competent help. Yet Kasumi frowned at the idea of seeking partners. She was not adverse to companionship or sharing spoils, but she knew instinctively she had little time to pursue this opportunity. Though she had many friends among the wanderers of the dreamlands the odds were against any of them being in Ulthar now. Nor for a venture of this magnitude did she wish to trust someone she did not know well. Also the news of Mazirian's demise would not stay her secret for long. She trusted the kittens' discretion, but the Twk-Men were mercenaries; they would tell anyone of it if they paid their price. Kasumi did not relish competing for the manse- especially if it were against a true sorcerer or a villain such as the notorious Liane...
"Ka- Kasumi!" A voice startled her out of her thoughts. It sounded very familiar, yet she couldn't place it. She looked over her shoulder for the speaker. A man stood halfway down the moored boat's gangplank, staring at her in gape-mouthed astonishment. He was tall and svelte, tanned bronze from a life out-of-doors, clad in a deep-blue vest, blue trousers, and sturdy leather walking boots. He wore no shirt beneath the vest, his almost Grecian chest and stomach bare to the world. Slung over his shoulder was a bulging rucksack. An axe, bronze-hafted, its blade bright and silvery, hung at his hip; on his brow a silver circlet bound his brown hair, keeping his bangs out of his eyes. The circlet was wrought to resemble a wreath of oak leaves, and set in its center was a small blue gem of cabochon cut. His face was handsome, its wide brow and tapering chin giving him an air of intelligence and wisdom, while his dark eyes were of the deepest black Kasumi had ever seen. She peered closely at this man, trying to place when and where she could have met him, for his seemed hauntingly familiar. Recognition dawned, its light striking her with a thunderbolt's force. Her eyes flew wide open. She dropped her hat onto the pier as her hand shot up to cover her mouth.
"Oh my! Doctor Tofu!"
Author's Notes
If you wish to know more of Mazirian the Magician and of the hubris that caused his downfall I refer you to the second chapter of Jack Vance's 'The Dying Earth'.
Criticism and comments can be directed to DorianVal@aol.com.
Thanks for your time and tolerance,
Jeremy Harper
