The Emperor of Any Place by Tim Wynne-Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

and slither down my arms. Tentatively I applied the mud to the raw and suppurated flesh of my torso. There were virulent red patches, hideous abscesses, all along my side. Gently I applied the muck to my afflicted body as though it were an expensive ointment. I breathed through my nose, my lips pressed tightly together to suppress the urge to scream with the pain of touching my skin. Then I sat, cross-legged, closed my eyes, and let the mud do its work. I was alive.
    But you are worried, perhaps, about the other ghosts I saw when first I landed, the ones standing a ways off watching me with red and ready eyes. You are thinking,
Isamu, you must have been feverish and confused.
But no, it was not so. When first I reopened my eyes, just as I felt the raft begin to move again on the incoming tide, I was startled to see one of the ghoulish creatures only a few feet away. It backed off, its head cast down as if it had been looking for something. I was not fooled. I knew what this fellow was, a
jikininki.
Slim as an eel it was and slimy, a decomposing cadaver, but with those glowing eyes and the sharp claws needed to tear apart a corpse.
    “I’m not dead yet,
jikininki,
” I shouted at the creature. It wasn’t much of a shout. My throat was parched. But the ghost stepped back a few paces more, and I could see how sad it was that I was not going to be its dinner. I dug my fingers into the wet sand and with a mighty effort hurled a fistful of it at the ghost. “Go! Scat!” I said. And, slope-shouldered, the thing limped off up the beach. My gentle ghost children watched all this with interest but no alarm. They are a peaceful lot. I climbed to my feet, exhausted from the ordeal, and immediately they crowded close to me. I did not like it, despite their angelic faces. But I decided they were only curious and not a threat.
    But back, now, to the deep, green pond. Time passed. The dove flew off. The shadows moved. I stood, a little groggily, on my feet, a mud man. How you would have laughed to see me. I was mud from head to toe. I contemplated bathing in the pond. If the waters were indeed magical, surely they would heal me. But then I thought of how my body might contaminate it, the only source of potable water I had found so far. No, I would leave it be. I would bathe in the ocean eventually. But for now, I had to eat.
    I headed back toward the beach, through the glinting light filtered down through the palm trees, banana trees, papaya trees. There was food there, all right, but I was in no shape to climb a tree. Not yet. I made my way back down the sloping path, a path made by animals, as I had supposed, for there was one now, a deer, a sambar hind with her fawn. I stopped in my tracks. So did the deer.
    “Konnichiwa, shika-san,”
I said, bowing to the animal. She did not move. The young stag did not move, either. “You are going to the magical pond,” I said, very gently, calmly. Then I stepped aside into the dense underbrush and gestured with my hand for the deer to pass. A long minute passed and I stood perfectly still, as still as any tree. And finally she budged, her eyes alert for movement. There was a curious blemish on her neck: a hairless bloodred spot on the underside of her throat, oozing a white liquid. I stared at it as she hurried past, so close I could have patted her yellowy-brown hide. The fawn skittered after her, frisking at one point, kicking out his back hooves. I laughed and watched them proceed up through the tall grass until they were out of sight. I couldn’t say why but I felt strangely blessed.
    Such wonders I have seen, Hisako-chan.
    The sun had passed over the island and was low in the western sky, though it would be hours before it set. I ventured out onto the sand.
Atsu!
Still hot, but bearable, and it was time to see what there might be amongst the wreckage on the beach. I passed by where I had taken off my uniform, what was left of it, and had hung it on the low branches of a tree. I had