#Airisu: The Crow and the Witch

Okiku Part II (Airisu POV): Post 44
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My mind #buzzed with astonishment at the sight of the shaman’s book, especially when Sumika revealed an identical copy, only older and more battered-looking.

She rejoined the conversation, saying, "Dōken-Shin said that he was returning something you gave him." She held up her copy of the book.

“Then I must give it to him with instructions to return it when the time is right, that the debt is mine, not yours,” Seirei-onna said. “I have been the wild crow all my life, calling no one lord. I see you are the same, a Karasu-tsukai.”

Her eyes moved from Sumika to me and said, “Is it not so, little one?”

I fluffed again. I liked this woman; she recognized my value.

Her gaze returned to Sumika, saying, “Keep the upper hand with Arakawa Dōken.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I cawed in agreement. “He needs you, more than you need him.”

Sumika responded by giving me the eye, but said nothing.

There was another spasm of coughing, then the shaman resumed speaking.

“Do you have a plan to rescue Okiku?”

“We were hoping you could help us with that,” Mistress replied.

“I will do what I am able, but I’m old, and my powers are slipping away from me. I suggest you seek aid from Osakabe-hime. She has lived for centuries, secretly in the upper part of the castle. She is a wise kitsune and knows everything that goes on there. I have bound her, so she will help.”

“How can we do that? I don’t think we can just wander around in the castle.” Mistress’s question was good; I was proud of her.

Seirei-onna didn’t answer and instead said, “Let me look at your book, Karasuko.”

Now, that was a fitting name for my mistress, Crow Child. Indeed, I would raise her well.

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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 106 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

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The meal was excellent, and I resisted the urge to overindulge in the roast lamb, fragrant with garlic and rosemary. Communal loaves of bread accompanied the dinner. I was surprised to find that it was white, though still coarser than what I was accustomed to. There were greens as well, and lentils stewed with onions and cumin. The Delphinas had plainly spared little in welcoming me. It almost made me feel guilty for deceiving them.

Cool, watered wine, faintly scented with bitter orange, accompanied the food. Emily didn’t need to remind me to drink sparingly. Heavy drinking was inappropriate for the role I played, as well as socially gauche and dangerous.

At the end of the dinner came honey cakes and dried fruit. Despite my attempt to eat sparingly, I was stuffed. Honestly, it was the best meal I could remember having. While the meals on the Hindenburg and Titanic were superbly prepared, they were pretentious. The food here was cooked with love and impressed one by its own merits rather than fancy ingredients.

When the meal was done, I murmured a prayer blessing the family, and then I gave my excuses for needing to leave for the shrine. I was sure the tutor was relieved to hear that, even if Zoé’s face fell when he interpreted what I said.

The master of the house provided me with a servant to light my way.

At the door, the wife pressed upon me small loaves of bread, wrapped in cloth. The scholar translated, “For the road, holy pilgrim.”

The daughter rushed forward, pressing a bundle of honey cakes into my hand. In turn, I attempted to manifest a fragment of St. Catherine’s Wheel to present to her, but was horrified when it failed to appear. I was unsure why. Manifestations had always succeeded as long as they were period-appropriate. Had I overreached? Perhaps what I’d asked for was a holy relic like the lance we had seen in the British Museum, and if so, why didn’t I get a substituted sliver of ordinary wood similar to how I had manifested rough natural chalk in the coral pyramid?

I still wanted to give the child something and to show my appreciation for the hospitality I had received, so I reached up and broke off a small fragment of the carved crown of thorns decorating my mask. When I held it out, the wood gave off a faint glow.

The mother gasped, and everyone signed themselves. From somewhere came the #buzz of amazed servants. Personally, the miracle shocked me speechless. Most surprising of all, the tutor fell to his knees and begged, “Forgive me, holy one.”

Finding my voice again, I said, “You don’t need my forgiveness. Your faithfulness to your master suits you well. May the Lord bless you for it.”

With that, I left the stunned family behind.

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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 105 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

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The tutor translated my request, which was met with approval and caused Zoé to beam.

Emily shook her head and said, “You’re quite the masher. Look at her; she has totally fallen for you.”

Indeed, the girl in question was directing doe eyes at me. The sobriety of prayer was nowhere to be found in them. If I were staying, both the scholar and I would have had to worry about her virtue.

After that, dinner was surprisingly uneventful. My hosts and I didn’t share a common language, so I was not obliged to talk with them. The tutor refrained from religious #sparring, though he started a conversation. Whether it was to trip me up or he was genuinely seeking information, I never knew. He began by asking, “What news have the Marseille Copts received of the Crusades?”

“That Salah ad-Din had retaken the Jerusalem, but that a vast host of English and Frankish soldiers are poised to retake it at any moment,” I said. “We hadn’t learned that Cyprus had been seized, or that Richard had sold it to the Templars.”

“And what do you think of the holy war?”

Rather than answering the more fraught question of my personal opinion, I chose to answer the question: “What did my community think?”

“Many hope to see the lands in Christian hands, and others are just glad to be rid of those whose violence spills into the streets of our cities.”

My host said something to the tutor, who fell silent, giving me a #break from the questioning.

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