The Day of Thunder

Xiaochen raises an eyebrow. "A long way for an old man to walk when he's got a young man to do it for him. Anyway, we've--that's Lady Shinjo's people--had scouts observe folks plagued by dreams converging on this spot, so where there's trouble, the Otaku ride to fix it. That's how it is." She smiled in embarrassment. "I suppose I assumed you other clans had similar information. Didn't occur to me you'd be riding--walking, sorry--on hunches about fruit."

She paused. "Did he mention what kind of fruit? I think there's berries around here. Maybe apples?"

Akutou looks around a bit more.

"Nah," he says. "Like I said, it were some metaphorical thing. Never have liked that kinda talk. Circumlocutive an' don't help a damn thing. Lots o' folks seem tooken up with it, though."

He sucks at his teeth and adds "Don't necessarily hurt anythin', but I got better things t' do.

"But y' ain't wrong 'bout the ol' man, young man bit. The O-Iemoto ain't old, really, but he moves like an ol' man, anymore. Says 'is bones hurt 'im. Still moves quieter than anythin'."

He looks around again. "Still ain't sure he ain't here, 'bout t' step out an' laugh somethin' fierce."

"Circumlo-" Xiaochen shook her head slightly to break the spell. "Our elders sometimes get that way, too. Now, I do not mind a turn of phrase or a bit of cleverness to break the weight of days." She smiled pleasantly. "What does 'circumlocutive' mean?"

"Means you're talkin' 'round whatever it is you're tryin' t' say," Akutou replies in answer to the last question Xiaochen asks.

Not the last question, of course. He's not Eniac.

"An' there's better ways t' pass time th'n many'd think," he adds. "Dice, f'r example. Ain't got any on me at th' moment, though, which's a shame."

He grins.

"'Course, not e'rybody likes playin' dice with me."

"Oh? Otomo-san is a skilled roller, then?" She laughed breezily. "Back home we don't roll the cubes; it's Shagai for us. You make them out of sheep's ankles. Actually, there's not a lot of making involved. They're really just ankles. Sometimes the Moto, that's a tribe quite a bit further west, where the land gets dry, will paint them up."

"You'll hafta show me sometime," Akutou says, still grinning. "Might could show folks back home if'n y' do. Sounds like it'd be a good game 'round the campfire of an evenin'."

He glances aside to see if the tribesperson will join the conversation at last. Perhaps?

"Seems like a campfire'd be appreciated here, too. Might drive out some o' this here fog."

"That would be good. I'm starting to feel the wet down in my bones." She smiled. "These trees don't touch off quick, do they? Fire-wise, that is. Sometimes you get a kid makes an oops on the steppe and it's a wall of fire for a mile or three."

Akutou looks at the surrounding foliage.

"Can't swear to't, o' course," he says, "but these don't look p'tic'ly flammable. Fog oughta help keep the fire danger down, too.

"But what's a little wet? Just th' way it is, sometimes, is all. An' it helps things have enough t' eat."

"Yeah, and it fouls your bow string if you don't keep an eye on it. That and in about 10 years you'll start to feel what I'm talking about. Your O-Iemoto ain't the only one gets the aches and pains."

"Wa'n't aware It's standin' in th' presence of an honored elder'" Akutou says, cracking a grin. "Apologies, then, ma'am."

He touches the brim of his hat.

"Well, I'm not all that old. But you spend half your life in the saddle, you can't expect not to have a mark of it." She shrugged. "I'm not sure the kids helped, either. Not that I'd send 'em back, of course."

"You've chil'ren, then?" Akutou asks.

"Yep, two boys." She smiled proudly. "They're only little, but my eldest has been in the saddle 5 winters, and the baby took his first canter just a month ago. They're with their papa, of course. Couldn't bring 'em here, what with the high chance of having to fill stuff with arrows."

"Congrats," Akutou says. "An' you've got th' right of it; kids don't make good pincushions."