Page 42 of Water Moon

Chapter Forty-two

The Night Market

Four anchors, as large as houses, hooked into the ground, one in each corner of the grassy field. The ropes attached to them disappeared into the night sky. Muffled voices and the clinking and clanking that came with a market coming to life seeped through the starless sky. Keishin looked up, straining to see through the thick soup of clouds. “How do we get up there? And notice how I did not bother to question how it was even possible for a market to be set up in the sky. I expect that I wouldn’t understand any explanation you gave me anyway.”

“We get up by climbing ladders. And the answer to the question you didn’t ask but, deep inside, really want to know the answer to is ‘crows.’?”

“Crows,” Keishin said. “Of course.”

Colorful ladders unfurled from the sky and landed on the ground at different points across the field. The little bells hanging from the ladders tinkled in the breeze, announcing to the crowd milling below them that the Night Market was open. Keishin and Hana headed to the closest ladder and fell in line.

Keishin looked up at the swaying ladder, cold sweat forming on his palms. He wiped his hands on his coat. “I don’t think that I ever mentioned to you that I’m afraid of heights.”

“I hate heights too,” Hana said. “My father used to tell me to keep my eyes on the ladder and to never look down.”

“Did it help?”

“Not at all.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for the advice.”

Keishin reached the front of the line. He drew a deep breath, gripped the sides of the ladder, and climbed. His hands, still raw from a night of rowing, burned. The wind grew stronger the higher he climbed, making the ladder swing in wide arcs. Keishin stopped climbing and glanced down to check on Hana.

“Keep climbing,” she called up to him.

Keishin nodded back, his hands trembling and damp. The relief that came from seeing Hana securely on the ladder was swiftly replaced by the horror of seeing the ground. Keishin raised his leg to climb onto the next rung. His foot slipped, sending half of his body through the ladder to dangle in midair.

“Kei!” Hana screamed below him.

Keishin hooked his arm around a rung and pulled himself up. “I…I’m fine,” he said, doubling his pace up the ladder before he lost his nerve.

A rough hand gripped his fingers when he reached the top. A man with a leathery face pulled him up from the ladder and onto a stepping stone floating over a cloud. “Welcome to the market,” he said, creasing every inch of his face with a wide smile.

The stone wobbled beneath Keishin’s foot. “Uh…thank you,” he said, not quite succeeding in finding his voice.

Hana climbed up after him. “This place seems even bigger than when I was last here.”

Keishin looked around. Brightly lit stalls selling wares he didn’t recognize stretched out in rows over the clouds. Narrow boats ferried the market’s customers between them. Clouds churned in the wake of the boats, parting occasionally to give a glimpse of the ground.

“This way.” Hana skipped onto a stepping stone. “We will need to hire a boat to get around.”

—

A tall woman stood at the rear of the boat, clutching a long paddle. She used the paddle to push away from the dock, sending the boat drifting into a river of clouds. She steered the boat so gracefully and effortlessly between the market stalls that had her movements been set to music, it would have been a dance.

Keishin turned from their boat’s pilot and let his eyes wander over the market’s stalls. Glowing balls of light were piled high on one stall’s table like mounds of fruit. The stall next to it sold bottles filled with stars. The last stall they had passed appeared to sell absolutely nothing, but boatloads of customers seemed all too eager to buy. “I don’t even understand what I’m seeing,” he said, whispering to Hana. “What does this market sell anyway?”

“Lost things. Found things. Things crafted by hearts or hands.” Hana pointed to a stall on their left. Conch shells of varying sizes were arranged in neat rows on tiered shelves. “That was one of my favorites to visit as a child.”

“Let me guess,” Keishin said. “You enjoyed listening to the ocean.”

Hana tilted her head. “Ocean?”

“The sound of waves in the shells.”

“Oh. Is that what the shells in your world sound like?”

“Don’t yours?”

“They tell jokes.” She pointed to the stall’s top shelf. “Those tell the best ones. I once laughed so hard I almost fell through the cloud.”

Keishin chuckled. “I would give anything to see that.”

Hana smirked and arched her brow. “You want to see me fall?”

“I want to see you so happy, you laugh your heart out.”

“I…wish the same for you.”

He stroked her cheek. “Then your wish has already come true.”

“Good evening.” A man in a silver-gray kimono greeted them from a nearby stall. “We have a fine collection tonight. Would you like to take a look?” He gestured to an elegant display of necklaces and bracelets made from strands of what looked like shimmering blue pearls.

“What are those?” Keishin whispered to Hana.

“That stall sells memories. Those are kioku pearls.”

Keishin leaned over the side of the boat to get a closer look. The pearls turned out to be little crystal orbs filled with miniature oceans, complete with a horizon of sunrises, sunsets, and clouds. The vendor held a necklace to Keishin’s ear. Waves crashed against the crystal as loud as though he were walking along a shore.

“Thank you.” Hana bowed to the vendor as their boat drifted past his stall. She turned to Keishin. “People keep memories inside them to pass on to their children like heirlooms. But some people sell their memories. That vendor turns them into jewelry.”

“Why?”

“In a world where your path is set, other people’s memories are sometimes your only way to see lives that could never be yours.” Hana pointed to a stall that no boats stopped at. “That stall sells healing salves and potions.”

“Like a pharmacy?” Keishin said.

“Something like that.”

“It doesn’t seem to be very popular.”

“Most people cannot afford what they sell.”

“How does it manage to stay open?”

“All it needs is a single person desperate enough to pay its price. If it managed to sell to one customer in a year, that would be enough.”

“Are you interested in visiting any place in particular?” the boat’s pilot said.

“We need to go to the porters,” Hana said.

The pilot tilted her head. “The porters?”

“There is a rumor that we want to learn more about. We were told that it began here at the market.”

“All rumors begin here,” the pilot said. “And you would be right in seeking out the porters. They know everything that is whispered.”

“Good,” Hana said.

“But I must warn you about the porters,” the pilot said. “They are greedier than any of the vendors here and they like to play games.”

—

Porters packed their baskets with their customers’ items and strapped them onto their backs. They checked one another’s loads, making sure that each was tied securely. Those who were ready lined up at a well, climbed into a large bucket, and lowered themselves through a hole in the clouds.

“They have been contracted to deliver those items directly to their customers’ homes so that their customers do not need to worry about carrying their purchases down the ladder,” Hana said.

“I can see the value of their service. Climbing the ladder without carrying anything was hard enough,” Keishin said.

Hana approached a group of porters playing a game of dice on a floating wooden dock. “Good evening,” she said, bowing.

They looked up from their game, stood up, and bowed back. “Good evening,” the porter standing closest to Hana said. One hundred oceans shimmered in the moonlight from two strands of blue pearls dangling from her neck. “Do you need assistance with your purchases? I am Nakajima Natsuki, the head porter here.”

“We were hoping that you could help us with another matter, Nakajima-san,” Hana said.

“Oh?” Natsuki tilted her head. “What sort of matter?”

“We heard a rumor that—”

“Ah. A rumor.” Natsuki smirked. “Our other service.”

The group laughed.

“Which rumor have you heard?” Natsuki planted her hands on her hips. “There are many.”

“The one about the children who aren’t children,” Keishin said. “Have you heard of it?”

“Of course,” Natsuki said, looking offended. “We hear everything.”

“What can you tell us about it?” Hana asked.

“We can tell you a lot of things,” Natsuki said, “about many things.”

“But you need compensation,” Hana said.

“No, not at all.” Natsuki shook her head. “All information we provide is free. We only ask that you play a game with us in return.”

“A game with a wager, I presume,” Keishin said.

More porters gathered around Keishin and Hana, an excited murmur buzzing among them.

Natsuki smiled. “A game without anything at stake isn’t worth playing.”

“What game do we need to play, and what kind of wager must we make?” Keishin asked.

“The game is simple. Dice. It is what we will be betting that will make it interesting. Here, we play for memories.”

“Memories?” Keishin said.

“Do not worry. We have no interest in recollections of anyone’s painful past. We have enough of our own. All we ask for is a chance to share in your joys. We were born in this market and we will die here. We know of no other life. The glimpses we catch of the world beneath the clouds when we deliver our clients’ purchases only make returning to the market harder. Naturally, you will keep the original memory, but the copy will be ours to do with as we please.”

“You want a happy memory,” Hana said.

“The last time your entire body smiled. As you know, extracting a kioku pearl can be…messy. We do not want you to have to dig deeper than necessary. Healing is expensive, and this, after all, is simply a bit of fun to keep my men entertained.” Natsuki twirled her necklace around her finger. “Shall we play?”

Entertained. The word gnawed at Keishin’s gut. His last memory of happiness was in Hana’s arms, and he suspected that Hana’s last memory was just as intimate. It didn’t matter which one of them played against the porters. The idea of Hana being anyone’s entertainment, on display for all to see, made vomit and rage rise up his throat. He clenched his fists at his sides. “No.”

“As you wish.” Natsuki returned to her dice game.

“Kei.” Hana gripped his arm. “We do not have a choice. We have to play.”

“If we lose…”

Hana strode up to Natsuki. “We will do it. We will play.”

Natsuki smiled and waved at a stocky porter standing next to stacks of empty baskets. “Daichi! Fetch the box.”

The porter nodded and ducked behind the baskets. He retrieved a small wooden box and hurried to Natsuki with it tucked under his arm.

“Thank you.” Natsuki took the box from him. She turned to Hana and Keishin and opened the box, revealing a marbled clay wine jug and a black-handled deba knife, a blade used for filleting fish. Beside the knife were a fishhook and a spool of fishing twine. “Have you decided which one of you will play and which one of you will carve out the player’s stone? We need to have all wagers up front.”

Keishin shot Hana a glance. “Carve out?”

Hana drew Keishin away from the assembled porters and lowered her voice. “The wine will form the pearl inside whoever drinks it. The pearl can form in different parts of the body, depending on where the memory is kept. Some memories live in the stomach, some just beneath the skin. Some memories are rooted deeper. I have heard of pearls growing inside bones. But do not concern yourself with this. I will play against the porters.”

“No,” Keishin said. “I will.”

“Kei—”

“This isn’t up for argument, Hana. If there is anyone who needs to be cut open or whose bone needs to be carved out, it should be me.”

“Why?”

“Because there is no scenario where I could ever bring myself to cause you more pain than you are already suffering. I can’t. I won’t. Now, please hand me the wine so we can be done with this.”

—

The wine warmed Keishin’s throat and belly. Natsuki had said that he needed only one swig, but Keishin took two. His first swig was to make the memory stone. His second was to numb the pain of being sliced open with a fish knife. While he trusted Hana, he did not trust himself not to scream.

Keishin set the wine jug aside and lay down on a woven mat a porter had laid over a cloud. Another porter brought over two lanterns for extra light. Keishin stared into one of the lanterns’ flames, wondering if he would feel the pearl form inside him. A warmth stirred and grew on his wrist over a vein that led to his heart, in the exact spot the Horishi had tattooed Hana’s name. Keishin rubbed the spot and looked up at Hana. “It’s here. I can feel it.”

Hana poured wine over the deba’s blade. “Don’t worry. I will be quick.”

Keishin positioned a broken basket handle between his teeth and closed his eyes.

Hana moved a lantern closer to Keishin’s arm. She drew a deep breath and ran the blade over Keishin’s skin.

Keishin flinched.

“I see the pearl,” Hana said. “But I will have to cut a little deeper to free it.”

Keishin bit down on the basket handle, refusing to provide the porters with additional entertainment. Sweat dripped from his brow.

“I have it,” Hana said, pulling out the pearl.

Keishin spat out the handle and exhaled.

“Kei?”

“Yes?”

Hana threaded the fishing twine through a small hook. “I think you should keep that handle in your mouth for a little while longer.”

Keishin clenched his teeth over the handle and squeezed his eyes shut, retreating into the warmth and shadows of his favorite Indonesian restaurant and an Almost Smile waiting for him at his usual table.

—

“What can I help you with this time?” Ramesh sipped his Bintang beer. “Are you still pretending not to be the least bit interested in that woman you met at the pawnshop?”

Keishin pulled out a chair and sat down. “I lost that battle.”

“You don’t seem too upset about it.” Ramesh set his beer on the table.

“I’m not.” Keishin smiled and took a bite of his satay.

“So why am I here? It looks like you’ve got everything under control.”

“ Control? I wish. I am presently being sewn up with a fishing hook and twine.”

“Ah, I see. Should I order us more beers?” Ramesh asked. “Or maybe we should get something stronger?”

Keishin shook his head. “I just need a distraction.”

“From your Frankenstein surgery?”

“From the dice game I am about to lose.” He sighed. “I have the worst luck. I never win at that sort of thing. Any tips?”

“Are you planning on cheating?”

“No.”

Ramesh shrugged. “Then I don’t have any advice for you.”

“Ah, Ramesh. What would I do without you?”

“Right now? Probably be screaming in pain.” Ramesh scooped a spoonful of nasi goreng.

“I wish you could see Hana’s world. I can’t even begin to wrap my head around it. It’s beautiful and…” Keishin ran his thumb over the droplets that had condensed over his beer.

“And what?”

“Frightening at the same time.”

“The best mysteries are,” Ramesh said. “And how about Hana? Does she scare you too?”

“More than anything ever has.”

Ramesh’s brows shot up. “Well, that was honest. I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

“If I can’t be honest with my oldest and dearest imaginary friend, who can I be honest with?”

“I have good news for you then.”

“Oh?”

“You will win the dice game.”

“I just told you that I’ve never been able to win at that sort of thing.”

Ramesh rolled his eyes. “What kind of physicist are you? Haven’t you heard of Ramesh Kashyap’s Second Law of the Universe and Dice Games?”

“I must have skipped class that day.”

“It states that the probability of winning a dice game is directly proportional to what the player has at stake.” Ramesh lifted his beer bottle in a toast. “And for the first time in your life, Kei, there is something every atom in your body is completely and utterly terrified of losing.”

—

Keishin held the blue pearl between his forefinger and thumb, watching the sun set over the little ocean inside it. It was difficult to imagine how the hours he and Hana had spent discovering each other’s bodies fit inside something so small.

Natsuki held out her palm. “I will keep the pearl safe until the game is over.”

Keishin reluctantly handed the stone over to her.

Natsuki admired the stone against a lantern’s light. She glanced from Keishin to Hana with a knowing smirk. “Definitely a prize worth winning.”

“What now?” Keishin said.

Natsuki tucked the stone into a small purse slung across her chest. “Now we play. The rules of our little game are simple. You will wager whether the sum of the dice rolled is even or odd. Win two out of three times, and the information you seek is yours. Lose, and you will leave here without answers or your pearl. Daichi will be our dealer.”

The small crowd of porters that had gathered in a circle around Keishin and Hana cheered. Daichi stepped out of the crowd. He shed his jacket and top and walked into the middle of the circle. He raised his arms and turned slowly, displaying his bare, muscular chest.

“Are you satisfied that our dealer is not concealing anything?” Natsuki asked.

“Yes,” Hana said.

Natsuki offered Keishin and Hana two six-sided dice and a bamboo cup for inspection. “We would like you to be assured that there will be no cheating that will take place here.”

Keishin nodded and handed the cup and dice back to Natsuki.

“Let us begin.” Natsuki gave the dice and cup to Daichi.

Daichi dropped the dice into the cup and shook it. He overturned the cup onto a small table and looked at Keishin.

“Even,” Keishin said, keeping his eyes on the cup.

Daichi removed the cup, displaying the dice. Five and four.

The crowd cheered. Daichi collected the dice and returned them to the cup.

Keishin cursed.

“We still have two more chances,” Hana said.

Dice rattled inside the cup. Daichi flipped the cup over.

Keishin drew a breath and squared his shoulders. “Even.”

Six and two.

Hana squeezed Keishin’s hand.

Daichi shook the cup.

Probabilities, combinations, and permutations tumbled inside Keishin’s head, rattling louder than the dice inside the cup.

Daichi turned the cup over. He rested his palm on the bottom of the cup and waited for Keishin’s choice.

“Even,” Keishin said, for no reason other than that he liked the feel of the word in his mouth. His instincts roamed freer in Hana’s world, refusing to be reined in by calculations or logic. Here, pouring oceans into orbs was possible, and probability carried as much weight as a market floating on the clouds. Ramesh Kashyap’s Second Law of the Universe and Dice Games was on his side. It had to be. Keishin held his breath.

Daichi lifted the cup from the table.

Three.

Keishin’s eyes darted to the second die.

One.

“Yes!” Keishin lifted Hana by the waist and kissed her.

Hana kissed him back as the crowd dispersed.

“Well done.” Natsuki plucked Keishin’s pearl from her purse. “Congratulations.”

Keishin set Hana down. He took the pearl from Natsuki and stuffed it into his pocket. “We would like to have the answers you owe us now, please.”

“And you shall have them,” Natsuki said. “You want to know more about the children who are not children.”

“What are they, and where can we find them?”

“We cannot speak of such things here.” Natsuki gestured to a small boat. “Come with me.”

—

Natsuki steered their boat to the edge of the cloud, away from the bustle of the market. She pulled her paddle into the boat and sat down.

“My necklace was much shorter when the rumor first weaved its way through the market,” Natsuki said. “Many of the vendors who worked here at that time have since retired. This rumor traveled faster than most, not because it was thrilling, but because once they had heard it, people could not bear keeping such misery to themselves. They passed it on quickly, hoping that if they shared it, they would have less of it living in their minds. I can tell you from my own experience that it did not work.”

“What did you hear?” Hana said.

Natsuki stared at the market’s bright lights. “Our world exists because there is an order to things. Everyone knows their duty and their place. The vendors sell their wares. Porters carry them. Sweepers go over every inch of the market at the end of each evening, cleaning and making sure that everything is ready for business the next night. We wake up to days that look exactly the same and find ways to amuse ourselves to make the hours go faster, only to sleep, wake up, and do it all over again until our voices are too hoarse to hawk our wares or our backs are too brittle to carry our baskets. But we do not complain. Why? Because we know that there is something worse than drudgery. And even death.”

“What does any of this have to do with the rumor about the children?” Keishin said.

“As everyone is taught from when we are children, in the hierarchy of our world, there are two kinds of people whose duties hold the most importance. The pawnshop owner who collects souls and the Horishi who infuses them into us as maps.” Natsuki nervously looked over her shoulder, scanning the clouds. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The Shiikuin do not wish us to know this, but sometimes, they fail.”

“What do you mean they fail?” Hana stiffened.

“The pawnshop owner is not always able to collect enough souls for all the children born in our world. When such children are brought to the Horishi, they are unable to receive any soul or fate. They are husks. Soulless shells.”

“Soulless…” Hana pressed a hand over her trembling lips.

Keishin put his arm around Hana’s shoulders and drew her closer. “What happens to those children?”

“They are not children,” Natsuki said. “They are monsters.”

“But why have I not seen such children…” Hana caught herself. “Such creatures? Do the Shiikuin kill them?”

“That would be the kind thing to do, but the Shiikuin are not kind. According to the whispers…they are buried alive.”

“Alive?” Ice ran up Keishin’s ankles.

“Where are they buried?” Hana asked.

“That is something that you will need to ask the source of the rumor.”

“Who?”

“The owner of market stall number five hundred and ten.”