“I take it you know about Tengu?”

“I know many things, but tell me your story as if I didn’t know anything. I will ask questions when needed,” said the Source.

“Okay,” she said with indifference and continued: “Not sure many people are aware of this, but the name Tengu comes from the Aynu folklore and it means an evil demon, a harbinger of the war, who dwells in the forests and mountains. I’m quite sure the Emperor knew this when he branded Gabriel, I mean, the rebel leader with this nickname. And it fitted him well enough. He and his devoted followers were hiding somewhere deep in the Forest of Green Rivers, executing daring attacks in the Forbidden City, bringing chaos to the Emperor’s overly ordered regime. Just like the demon from the tales.”

“Did you agree with Tengu’s agenda?”

“At the time, I didn’t know what his agenda was. His attacks inside the Forbidden City were damaging the Emperor’s reputation, so people simply assumed his goal was to overthrow the Emperor, but those were all speculations. The truth was nobody knew for sure whether Tengu’s plan was to make the world a better place or to wreak havoc. He never gave any public statements about his aims.” She smiled through her teeth. “For all I cared, he could have been as well a rogue with interest in spoils. Politics was never my thing.”

“You felt, though, you two were on the same side?”

“Neither of us liked the Emperor very much, we had that in common. But the way I saw it, it was simply a great business opportunity. Besides the money, being a supplier of the fearsome rebel army meant prestige and security in our little, dirty, business world. Yes, Tengu was popular in the Settlements because of his deeds against the Emperor. But he was also feared.”

~~~

As soon as her eyes closed, Ana was in her childhood house again. She stood on the balcony of her mother’s cabinet and stared at the stars blowing up in the sky. Mesmerized by the strange fireworks, she thought what a beautiful gift they were for her twelfth birthday. Suddenly, the whole house shook and a loud sound deafened her. The balcony tilted to one side, causing her to fall and slide downwards. Somebody caught her by the elbow. She looked up and saw H. He was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t hear him because of the strong ringing in her ears. Next, she was standing in the cabinet. “Don’t look!” shouted H, dragging her by the hand towards the stairs. He was just a small boy. She resisted him and turned around. A huge, triangular-shaped piece of steel was stuck in the middle of the cabinet. It crashed through the roof and penetrated the house all the way down to the ground floor. Its surface was black and smooth. She knew it was a drone. They learned about them in school, when they talked about the ongoing war between the West and the East. Her eyes fell upon a body, half of it sticking out from beneath the drone’s edge. Its head was smashed completely and its torso was full of blood, covered with fallen chunks of the ceiling. She recognized the red, cashmere cardigan of her grandmother. “Come on, Ana! We have to go!” H’s hand was squeezing hers, but her eyes could not detach from pieces of the fractured skull, mixed with hair, blood, and brain tissue. “Peter…I can’t move,” somebody whispered through her lips with a voice of a small girl. H pulled her so strongly she almost fell down the stairs. She wondered how such a little boy possessed so much strength. Then it all went dark and she was suddenly curled up in the basement. Somebody placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid. I will protect you! I promise!” Just as she looked up and met H’s green eyes, she felt a strong thrust into her ribs.

A second one followed, and then another one. She squinted at the dark silhouette above her. A rush of adrenalin awakened her instincts and she reached for the sword. When her eyes adjusted, she realized it was the guide with a hood over his head. He held a long stick in his hand. Her glare and the tip of her sword at his groin prevented him from using the stick again.

“Time to go,” he muttered.

She got up and realized she was soaked. It was pouring rain. Without much talk, they resumed walking.

“Is it much farther?” she asked the guide, who picked up the pace again.

“Far enough,” he responded with disdain.

She bit her lower lip, she bit hard, until she tasted the blood. If it wasn’t for the deal, she would have punched him in the face. H gave her a nudge on the shoulder. “Slept well, Stem? You look kinda pale.”

“I’m fine,” she replied coldly. It had been a while since she dreamt about the Event.

The rain stopped, but the dark clouds kept the forest gloomy, despite the daylight. They walked in all possible directions and climbed up some very steep parts, which was not an easy thing to do on the slippery terrain. Everything looked the same. The guide was right; alone they would be lost.

Hours passed and Ana was ranting silent complaints behind the guide’s back when her eyes detected movement among the trees. She wasn’t sure at first, but quick eye contact with H confirmed her suspicions. They were surrounded.

In the dim light of the forest, the rebels moved like shadows among the trees. Their guide whistled a short, joyful tune and two of the shadows approached. They carried guns, something she expected, but an uncomfortable sight nonetheless. With the last year’s spectacular break-in into one of the warehouses of the White Palace, the rebels were now the only ones to have guns besides the Imperial guards. The two men patted the guide on the shoulder and pointed their guns at Ana and H. They all walked uphill and stopped in front of a pile of small rocks. Two other rebels joined them. One of them immediately attracted Ana’s attention. He didn’t have a gun, instead, he carried a sword just like hers over his back. His straight, firm posture, the expressionless face, and slanted, focused eyes left her with no doubt. He was an Aynu.

Ana hated the Aynu almost as much as her father admired them. She despised their blind obedience, rigid rituality, and cold perfectionism. They were notoriously devoted Emperor’s subjects and she was quite surprised to see one among the rebels. She fixed her gaze on him while the other rebels exchanged words, and it wasn’t long before he noticed it. Their eyes locked into a stare of two unfriendly dogs, which would tear each other apart if it wasn’t for their masters’ leash. She backed down only when she felt H’s hand on her shoulder.

One of the rebels removed a couple of rocks from the pile and uncovered a small hole below, which looked like an entrance to a fox’s den.

“Stemetski?” he called out.

“Yes?” replied Ana, curious about the meaning of it.

The rebel pointed his finger towards the hole. “Go in!” he commanded.

Ana frowned and glanced unsurely at H. “You are joking, right?” she asked the rebel, but the unchanged, serious expression on his face suggested he wasn’t.

She didn’t know what to do. It didn’t look like a human would fit inside that hole.

“Stem, hold my stuff, I’ll go in first,” said H and pushed her to the side.

The rebel stopped him. “Only her.” His voice was firm and lacked patience.

“That’s not going to happen,” objected H.

“We are always doing business together,” Ana sided with him.

“Only the company owner or the deal is off,” insisted the rebel.

“Look you-” H moved closer.

In a split-second, the Aynu materialized behind him and wrapped his arm around his neck. Ana wanted to draw her sword, but a gun was already pressed at her temple.

Damn, they are fast, she thought, put on a silly smile, and blurted out apologetically: “Okay, okay…no need to get upset now! We all share the same interest. We are here to do business.” She raised her arms and begged H with her eyes to do the same. The whole deal was suddenly hanging by a thread and H going off on everyone, gun or no gun, would certainly mean the end of it.

She was relieved when H let go of Aynu’s elbow and put up his arms too. The rebels backed down but kept their guns pointed at them. Ana slowly took off her backpack and passed it to H together with her sword.

“Make it quick, Stem,” said H, looking worried.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him.

Turning her cap backward, she went down on her knees and hands and crawled into the tiny black tunnel head first. She could hear them snickering as she tried to push through, but got stuck at the waist with her bottom sticking out of the hole. With a strong desire to end this embarrassing situation, she pulled herself in with all her might and finally managed to slide all her body into the tunnel. The ground was muddy and cold rocks were pressing on her from all sides. The narrow passage allowed for only one direction and turning around was not an option anymore. She had no other way to go but forward.

Like a blind snake, she was moving among the stones and every time she raised her head she hit a rock. She was progressing slowly and after a while, she lost sense of time. Complete darkness nourished gloomy thoughts in her mind. Was this a trap? Did the tunnel lead anywhere? Was there enough air? Her breathing intensified and she had a feeling the passage became even narrower. She got stuck again, trapped at her waist between two rocks. She pressed and pushed hard with her hands, but nothing happened. She panicked and started kicking and wiggling until she finally weaved herself out of the narrow passage. Gasping for air, she noticed a flickering light just ahead. She crawled toward it as fast as she could and fell out of the tunnel about two meters downwards.

She picked herself up and looked around, hardly believing her eyes. A huge subterranean cave extended before her. Seized by a vicious spasm of laughter, she squatted down with her back against the rock. Slowly she recovered and took a deep breath, inhaling as much of the cold and humid air as her lungs could hold, before she took another look at the surroundings. The cave was illuminated by several torches on the wall and stretched further than she could see. Numerous stalagmites and stalactites, hanging from the ceiling of the cave or growing up from the ground, conveyed a feeling of bizarre exhibition grounds. A gentle sound of running water was heard, although there was no visible sign of its source.

She noticed a man approaching from the illuminated part of the cave. He walked up to her and offered her a hand. He was older, silver-haired, and had a kind smile. He seemed different from the other rebels she met so far, much warmer and friendlier.

“Thank you,” she replied accepting his hand, and hoisted herself up.

“Please, follow me,” he said and began walking in the direction he came from.

As they strolled down the cave, following the line of torches on the wall, they passed a number of naturally carved, smaller caves. Some had pieces of basic furniture inside and appeared like private rooms. Others’ interior was hidden by a thick carpet or a piece of wood placed across the entrance. Ana was left speechless.

Quite at the end of the illuminated part of the wall, the man stopped in front of what seemed to be another private cave, but this one had an actual door, made of thick wood. The man gave three distinctive knocks at it and indicated to Ana to go in.

“Wait, please,” she said as he was about to walk away. “Could you tell me if Tengu is in there?”

“I mean….your leader, sorry,” she corrected herself immediately.

The man smiled at her, nodded, and left her alone in front of the door.

She took off her muddy cap, stuck it inside her jacket and ran her fingers through her hair a couple of times. Her clothes were in a terrible state. She tried to brush off some of the dirt, but she only made it worse. As she reached for the knob, an instinct of caution stopped her hand just above it. She hesitated for a moment or two, but, like always, it was curiosity rather than fear that determined her decision in the end, and she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

Unexpectedly, she found herself rapt by the sound of a piano. Intricate music reverberated through the perfect acoustics of the small cave. She recognized it immediately. Gnossienne no. 3 by Satie, a Central Zone composer and pianist from the old period. It was her mother's favorite.

The man sitting behind the piano ignored her and continued to play. Used to all kinds of eccentric behavior from her clients, she remained quiet and observed him. The way he played Satie was beautiful, but she immediately detected a certain fault in it. The fingers of his right hand were hitting the key buttons too hard instead of being soft and flexible like Satie’s music required. She knew that from the lessons H’s mother Eve gave to her mother. Her mother could play the piano with mathematical precision and execute the notes with perfection, but Ana always preferred Eve’s way. She poured out her soul when playing and the music she was listening to now was conveyed in a similar way. Of course, it didn’t match the level of such an accomplished pianist as Eve Hanneghan, but it was underlined with the same strong sentiment, which didn’t allow the listener to stay indifferent.

It didn’t take her long to figure out the cause of disharmony between the man’s right and left hand. With so many years in the business, she developed a tendency to see people as an assemblage of body parts rather than as a whole, and an artificial piece could hardly escape her even when hidden under a rough sleeve of a jacket. The man’s right arm piece was an old one too, in fact quite an antique. Nobody used them anymore because the connection between the nervous system and artificial components was slow and the movements were clumsy and awkward.

She turned her attention to the man’s profile, taking in the curve of his black eyelashes, his right high cheekbone, straight-edged nose, and slightly parted lips. His uncombed black hair, which reached his shoulders, was in stark contrast with the pale skin of his face. His eyes were fixed on the keyboard and he seemed fully immersed in the music he played from memory.

The piano was an old model from the pre-war period and together with a ragged, pink sofa in the opposite corner of the cave gave the space a nostalgic feel. A simple wooden table with a couple of matching chairs made up the rest of the furniture. Ana’s eyes wandered over a few small natural niches on the cave wall, which served as shelves. Her brief examination stopped promptly when she realized the room was silent and that Tengu was standing right in front of her.

He was dressed in similar dark green clothes as the guide, only instead of the coat, he wore a cargo jacket with large pockets in the front. His slender build gave a slim, tall impression. He looked about her age - somewhere in his early thirties. His face seemed even whiter and despite the unshaved jaw, there was a subtle elegancy to its features, which contradicted completely with the image of the rough rebel she had built in her head. Not for a second, though, she doubted it was Tengu before her, and she would have known it, even if the old man hadn’t told her. He had a strong, commanding presence and his grey-blue eyes reflected uncanny confidence. Ana found herself staring at those eyes for much longer than good manners permitted, unable to pull away. Gazing quietly back, he didn’t make it any easier for her. With an effort, she recomposed herself and forced a smile.

“Sir, I’m Stemetski from Orion’s Belt. You requested our services.”

The left end of his lips curled upward into a half-smile half-smirk and his eyes lit up warmly as he offered her a hand. She was taken aback by the unexpected gesture. The old habit of greeting was so rarely used it didn’t come naturally to her. She hesitated before she extended her right hand, only to realize he offered his left. Awkward as it was, she changed hands and shook his with her left too. His grip was decisive but done with gentle control. She felt relieved when he let go of her hand and started to talk.

“I thank you for coming. My name is Gabriel. Please,” he said and gestured for her to sit on the sofa, pulling a chair closer for himself.

His eyes were examining her and eroding her otherwise detached and confident composure she usually kept when dealing with clients. She felt exposed, like a piece of artwork being assessed by an art critic.

“I’ve heard good things about your company. It’s been recommended to me for the parts of the highest quality and very professional service.”

“Well, you’ve heard right,” she said, flashing him a pleasing smile while reminding herself to be cautious.

“I’d like to commission a service from you. As you can see this piece is pretty old.” He raised his antique prosthetic arm and smiled awkwardly as if he was ashamed of it.

“No problem, I’m sure I can find just the right piece for you. I’ll only need some details and take the measurements. But I must warn you, Sir, high-quality pieces don’t come cheap.”

His eyes, their color enhanced by dark lashes, kept stealing her attention. She tried to determine whether there was more grey or blue in them, but each time she decided on one color, the other seemed to prevail.

“That won’t be an issue, but I do have one request on which I must insist.” She noticed how his pupils dilated and filled the irises with a darker shade. “I don’t want just any piece. I want a Nakamura.”

Umm…what, she mentally exclaimed. Tilting her head to the side she replayed his words in her mind. Her lips parted in surprise. She waited. She waited for a laugh, a dismissive gesture, anything that would indicate he didn’t really mean it.

Nothing.

She lowered her stare to the floor and shook her head slowly, chuckling. Somehow, all her insecurities disappeared and her thoughts became clearer.

“I hope you’ll at least reimburse my travelling expenses. This joke cost me dearly,” she said and stood up.

A Nakamura piece! What an asshole! What a waste of time! Confused, pissed, and disappointed she headed towards the door.

“I don’t believe you’ve told me your name?”

His calm and kind voice fueled her resentment even more. She turned reluctantly.

“Stemetski. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get all the necessary details-”

“I meant your first name,” he cut in.

Nobody has ever asked for her first name. First names were irrelevant, too personal, much like a handshake. She hesitated, but his eyes demanded an answer.

“Ana. My name is Ana.”

“Ana Stemetski,” he repeated slowly.

Her father was the last one to call her like that.

“Ana, let me show you something.” He pulled up the sleeve on his left arm and extended it forward with fingers spread. He smiled softly. “I presume you know how to check.”