All the World's a Stage - Chapter 14 (Patreon)

The clay digger’s name was Horu, and after making a token effort to wash himself he made tea for himself and Ondori that Ondori politely pretended to drink. The cup was covered in mud. Most of the hut was covered in mud.

“You know, it’s not healthy to take your work home with you so much,” Ondori said.

“Heh?”

“Nevermind. Horu, are you the only one digging up clay?” Not that Ondori knew anything about it, but supplying a town’s entire industry sounded like more than a one-person job.

“I might as well be,” Horu said with a derisive snort. “The young’ns who usually help me are all smitten with that lousy princess.”

“A princess?”

“Not a real one,” Horu said. “Leastways I hope not, the way she acts. Girl came in two weeks ago and wowed everyone with her own pottery talents. They’re all so smitten with her that they completely ignore just how strange she is.”

Ondori took a sip of his tea, grimaced at the less-than-liquid texture, and leaned in. “Tell me more.”

“She’s too clean. Too still. Everyone says it’s just cuz she’s a noble so obviously she’s graceful, but there’s more to it than that. And she’s too quiet. Never talks, lets the girl do all the talking for her.”

Ondori leaned back. He had a hunch.

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The ‘Hime’ was, undoubtedly, a beautiful woman. Tall, slim, skin white as snow. Her hair was a perfect black bun held in place by silver needles. Her makeup was perfect, almost making her face glow. Her expression never shifted, maintaining the image of perfect serenity. And her clothes were fine silk.

She refused to speak with them, but her attendant was happy to do so on her behalf, while the Hime steadily painted an urn in the background.

“I’m glad to answer any questions you might have,” the mousy, pigtailed girl said with a small smile. “But the Hime likes her privacy, so I might not be able to.”

“That’s fine,” Inoichi said. He was the best with people, so Shikaku was all too happy to let him take point here. “What brings you and her here, if I may ask?”

“Oh, well.” The girl looked around at the ceramics that filled the town hall. “The Hime loves porcelain. It is an unusual hobby for a noblewoman, I know, but it’s a lovely art.”

The Hime finished the urn and set it aside to dry, replacing it with a plain white mask. The attendant turned to watch as the Hime traded the brush for a clean one, while one of the village elders collected both urn and used brush to take somewhere else.

The attendant sighed dreamily. “Isn’t she just perfect? Beautiful. Graceful. Perfect. Everything I wish I was.”

Inoichi glanced back at his teammates. “Right. Well. Have you heard any rumors of a mad puppeteer roaming the country, robbing travelers?”

The attendant blinked, looking alarmed. “W-What?”

“You might not have heard about it if you’ve been here the past few weeks,” Choza said.

“Y-Yes, we, er, don’t get much news out here,” she said.

“Well, and please don’t be alarmed, but we believe he’s targeting your employer next,” Inoichi said, trying to be gentle.

The attendant stared at him for an almost uncomfortably long moment. Then she relaxed. “O-Oh, that would be awful. What should we do?”

Shikaku’s eyes narrowed. Why would she relax?

“Well,” Inoichi looked to him, and Shikaku nodded. “We are actually ninja, attendant-san, and capturing the puppeteer is our mission. We’d like to offer our protection, if you’re willing to act as bait.”

The girl squinted at them. “Bait?”

“It sounds bad, I know. But you have my word that you’ll be in no danger.”

“I see.” The girl was gripping her necklace. The Hime wore a gleaming white pearl necklace, and the attendant had one of her own. It was more of a pendant, with only a single pink pearl hanging over her chest.

Shikaku nodded towards her. “That’s a nice necklace you have there,” he said. “Pink pearls are rare, aren’t they?”

“It looks lovely on you, miss,” Choza said, smiling disarmingly. Is the necklace important? he signed.

Shikaku didn’t answer, focused on the girl’s reaction; she preened at Choza’s compliment, holding the necklace up for closer inspection. “You think so? I think it really brings out my eyes.”

“You must be very good at your job, for the Hime to gift you something like that,” Shikaku said.

The attendant paused. “Oh. Yes, of course. She’s very generous to me.”

Shikaku grunted. “If you agree to help us, we can lure the puppeteer out quickly enough. Then we’ll get out of your hair and you can go back to your pottery.”

The attendant considered it, then finally nodded. “I agree.”

“Excellent,” Inoichi said, smiling broadly. “And can we know the name of our temporary partner?”

The attendant curtsied. “Oh, excuse me. You may call me Jiki.”

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Ondori had a number of ways to go about this. He could disguise himself, sneak in, hopefully assassinate the target and be home by week’s end. But he was fairly certain that the hope was that he retrieve Jiki and bring her back alive, so as to make use of her talents again.

What did he have that was non-lethal? A surprising amount honestly. What did he have that could subdue and capture? That was a harder question. In the end, he asked himself what would make him, as a puppeteer, curious enough to override his better judgment and step forward even when he knew it was a bad idea. The answer he came up with was some form of puppetry he’d never seen before.

He might have been looking for an excuse to keep doing puppet shows. He couldn’t help it; he might have a problem.

Despite appearances, the potter’s village couldn’t function without someone to cook the meals and mend the clothes and whatnot. There were even a few children around who didn’t enjoy playing with clay, and it was for them that Ondori set up his show.

A clothesline with bed sheet hanging from it became a makeshift stage with blue curtains, and Rowlf sat there playing his harp. Ondori was getting good at the harp, but he was starting to find it too limiting. Maybe he could search around for a more versatile instrument that could handle livelier tunes.

Still, the harp did its job. The music played by a shaggy dog attracted a small crowd of kids and homemakers soon enough. Once he’d managed to pull a few potters away from their work, he pulled out a silly ditty he’d been working on.

“Thank you all for coming,” Rowlf said, strumming away. “Now that I have your attention, I’d like to sing for you one of the great songs of our time, that ever-popular tavern ditty and heartfelt ballad, ‘You and I and George.’”

That set off some confused muttering.

“Now you may ask yourself, as well you should, ‘How have I never heard of this song if it’s so great?” Rowlf chuckled. “Well, fact is… No one has heard of this great song of our time. In its first and only performance in the Fire Capital music hall, ‘You and I and George’ sold just two tickets.” Rowlf stopped to hold up two fingers. “I bought one, and George bought one. Where were you?”

That got a few chuckles, and while Ondori sang on Rowlf’s behalf he kept an eye on the surroundings.

He had a hunch, and while he didn’t know exactly what he was waiting for, he trusted that he’d know it when he saw it.

In fact…

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Talking with the Hime through Jiki was frustrating. The woman herself had thus far refused to even look at them, and Jiki was…

“Isn’t her hair just wonderful? I styled it for her myself, you know, as well as mine. Shinobi-san, you have such lovely blonde hair, do you have any advice on caring for it? I’d kill for a sheen like that.”

…single-minded.

Shikaku wandered over to the doorway, ostensibly to guard the perimeter but mostly to avoid getting drawn into the conversation. If you could call it that; Inoichi had barely been able to get a word in edgewise, and from the strained smile Shikaku could tell he was reaching his limit.

Choza at least had avoided her attention. For some reason she seemed keen on ignoring him, the lucky bastard.

A noise tickled his ear, and Shikaku turned to see a crowd down back the way they’d come. “What’s going on over there?”

“Over where?” Jiki asked, popping up beside him. He very carefully didn’t react.

A woman with a brick of clay walked up from that direction, smiling. Her smile went a bit awkward as she saw Jiki, but she continued nonetheless. “Brought some more for the elders, Jiki-san.”

“What’s all the hubbub?” Jiki asked (demanded). “What’s so interesting that it would cause a crowd like that?”

“Oh,” she said, brightening. “A wandering puppet show, miss.”

“Puppets, huh?” Shikaku drawled, his teammates coming up behind him.

“Oh yes. Don’t ask me how but he’s got the little doggy playing a harp and singing.”

Jiki blinked. “Little doggy?”

“Oh, it’s a cute thing. I think so anyway. Looks like a big ol’ ragdoll. Wearing one of those ninja headbands for some reason.”

“That’s him alright,” Shikaku said. “Change of plans, Jiki, looks like we won’t need to set a trap after a--”

Jiki shoved past him. “I’ve got to see this.”

“Wh--Hey!”

Shikaku reached out to stop her, but she slipped out of his grip, and he wasn’t in the habit of catching a civilian’s shadow. He growled. “Choza, with me. Inoichi, stay and guard the Hime.”

“Hai.”

Inoichi pulled back, closing the doors behind him. “Don’t you worry, Hime. My teammates will make sure your attendant is safe. Say, what’s your actual name any--”

The noblewoman had slumped over, paused in the act of painting. She was still sitting, but her head had dropped and she was no longer moving. The elders in the room had left on some errand or another, leaving the two of them alone. And without all the hustle and bustle of a busy workshop, Inoichi was able to realize just how quiet the woman was.

In fact, he couldn’t hear her breathing.

“What the hell…?”