It's not youm -
- it's meme.
Tomu had paused at the Salon’s front entrance to turn around and give Justin an intense, analytical look, as if he were some kind of riddle the guardsman was trying to solve. Then the kid had shaken his head, more in defeat than in negation, and marched in. Justin and Taiko had raised their eyebrows at each other, but with nothing to say, they turned away and strolled towards the canal to their north.
“Do you know where the Ling Fei office is?” Justin asked.
“I can get us close enough to find it,” Taiko assured him. “It’s very near the High Court. Do you intend to visit them ahead of your lunch appointment?”
“I was considering it,” Justin said. “Remember what Sol said? ‘Something acceptable in Tzo’s stack’? He’s supposed to be bringing some number of ship property portfolios with him, but would you necessarily call that a ‘stack’?”
“Ah,” Taiko said. “You’re wondering if ‘his stack’ referred to his collection at the office, and whether there might be a unpredictably preferable selection among them, one he would not have brought with him?”
“I like how quick you are,” Justin complimented the old monk.
“Yes, I do too,” Taiko agreed. Justin let it pass. The man had earned a share of being full of himself for a while.
“Fine. What’s my other reason, smart guy?” Justin said as they reached the rope-and-stone-bollard fencing at the greenway’s edge - the sloped stone bank of the canal a good hundred feet beyond - and turned east again. A few heartbeats counted as a while, right?
Taiko rubbed his palms together, staring off into the distance. “Because. . .” he began, “. . .after the recent events you now wish to ascertain, and if necessary, ameliorate your legal status, as soon as possible?”
Justin squinted at him. “Did the Shinbi tell you about my plans?”
Taiko smiled beatifically back. “Not to that degree. I really am that good, Brother.”
“Good enough to throw at a cataclysm-class Xenopote, yet not quite good enough to preserve from being expended?” Justin poked back, finally feeling a little nettled by the old monk’s composure.
“Ah, that would be the politics,” Taiko said, putting a clipped emphasis on the last two words.
“Oh, do tell – no, er, don’t. Later. First, what was it. . .oh, yeah, timekeeping. Earlier you said ‘the last third of the Heron’ – what hours do we use here?”
“From dawn to dusk, we divide the days into the Rooster, Heron, Hawk, and Duck, and the nights belong to the Raven, Nightingale, Robin, and Owl.”
All birds. Ask why later. Assuming a twenty-four-ish hour day, that’s three Earth hours to one Riben. Justin considered pinging Sol for clarification before remembering that whether god or mortal, phone or celestial telepathy, constantly bothering someone on their private line was darn rude. But there was something else the hours reminded him off, something in the back of his mind, that kept him picking at the topic. Something from. . .before the Temple. Tomu.
Eight months!
Justin felt like giving himself a Gibbslap. Sol’s Blessing granted him three minor wishes per month. Not three per ten-or-so days; three per month. Which was twenty-four per year here, compared to thirty-six by Earth’s calendar; a multiplier, or rather a concentrator of one-and-a-half. And if number of days per year counted as well – which wouldn’t surprise him - twenty-four went into four hundred and six. . .almost 17 times, vs. a bit over ten. . .right around one-and-two-thirds.
Less wishes. . .but he was Ivory Sure they were more powerful. By two-thirds.
No wonder he’s taking such a personal interest in me. I was certain all this Xenopotency was the Contract stuffing me full of Its power until I invested the Ship with it – but the Dawn said ‘wish’ for its investiture, so maybe. . .but-again, that was supposed to accumulate over days. . . .
There was another water taxi-stand at the middle of the next block, interrupting the greenway; less crowded and busy than the one at the Plaza. Taiko, who had considerately remained silent while Justin pondered, extended a hand towards it as they approached.
“If we are hoping to reach the Ling Fei before Advocate Tzo’s paperwork departs, Brother, I recommend hiring a double poler. It will be much quicker, and please, allow me to pay. Tairyu Omon assigned me an expense account that will go to waste otherwise.”
“Yes!” Justin said. “I’ve been looking forward to this! We were planning -” His face solidified into a stony mask at the memory, and he stopped in his tracks.
“Brother?” Taiko said.
“I’ll explain later,” Justin said, quietly. “Pick one and let’s go.”
Taiko briefly dickered with the available gondoliers, who apparently were no more respectful towards the clergy than anyone else when it came to payment, before striking a deal with a pair in green tunics and trousers. The upholstery and fittings on their boat were among the least flashy, all a simple forest green a couple of shades darker than their clothes.
Justin stepped into the middle of their long, narrow boat and sat down on the double seat there, his bag on his lap. Taiko joined him; the polemen pushed away from the small quay into the flow of traffic, and began singing:
“Say hoo-up hey! And hoo-up haw!
From Rooster's crow to Raven's caw!
We polemen dip and push and draw!
And spin our sticks without a flaw!”
By the last line they were rotating their poles over the shoulders like quarterstaffs after each stroke, alternating sides in opposite tandem. They did a flashy triple spin overhead after their first stanza, interlocking the paths of their poles with perfect timing.
“Say hoo-up haw! And hoo-up hey!
From blessed dawn to berth of day!
We polemen push from quay to cay!
We're on your starboard, give us way!”
“Of course they would be singing gondoliers,” Justin muttered, as the rowboat packed with bales ahead and to their port side angled deeper into the canal. “With a Cirque du Soleil spear routine thrown in for good measure.”
“Gentlemen, less show-boating and more speed-boating, please,” Taiko called.
“Everyone’s a critic,” groused the bow poleman.
“Is this particular critic paying you?” Taiko asked, in the same the hell you think you’re talking to, boy? tone he’d used on Tomu earlier. The man’s back stiffened and he put more strength into his poling, leaning harder into each shove.
The aft poleman chuckled and said, “Don’t mind m’ brother-in-law up ’ere. He’s between gigs at th’ Deckhall, and it’s making both ‘im and m’sister double-cranky. We’ll get you up east wind-swift, Kokyu, no worries. C’mon, Tosa, put yer back into it!”
Tosa mumbled vaguely about putting something in someone’s back all right, but he stepped up his efforts, and the boat began to skip along at an impressive pace.
“Thanks, Taiko,” Justin said, slowly letting the tension drain out of him.
“I’m always glad to help you, Brother,” Taiko said easily.
“Yeah, about that; what about the rest of your duties? Or – no, the rest of my list first. What’s the difference between monks and priests?”
“Priests are of the aristocracy, Brother. Monks serve, priests rule.”
“Pencil please,” Justin said, taking the scroll Taiko had given him earlier out of his pouch. He jotted down the monk’s Chengyu on it, put it away, and handed the pencil back with his nose in the air.
Taiko stared forward, his cheeks twitching upwards.
Great. Theocracy. Probably why those two back at the Bank were sipping the vinegar. I’m a potential competitor-slash-rival for political power. And a potential boost to the monkly faction, if any -
- oh for Chrismmmahahas’ sake!
The god hadn’t said ‘monkey boy’ - he’d said ‘monk-y boy’. The first-glance seeming reference to Justin’s parting ‘round boy’ shot at the Contract had been a red herring. Next time Justin had an audible conversation with the god, he’d have to turn on his player’s record function. And why did that make him feel as if he’d missed yet another subtle hint somewhere?
It also occurred to him, in company with a shiver of unease, that an increasingly good adjective for Sol’s behavior was ‘oracular’.
“Put the rest of that off for later, then,” Justin said. “Maybe tonight.”
“As you wish, Brother.”
“What else – oh, right. Sealing. Is it magic or theurgy? Or both, and it depends on who’s doing it and how?”
“The latter, Brother. Magic is more perilous, of course, being of chaos where theurgy is far more lawful. . . .”
Patreon
Monkey boy word play was great!
It made me also think that the priests view the monks as monkeys.
Your approval fills me with pride! And gratitude!
Their relations aren't quite that bad, and among the priests/priestesses, it's really more of a few bad apples in combination with an ossified power structure than a serious corruption problem.