The Continent (The Continent #1)(52)

For now.

One evening after work, I am wrestling with the process of trying to trim a wild thornbush at the front of the house when Noro comes up the lane, returning from his most recent excursion. He’s only been gone half a week, but looks as though he’s spent a year in the outdoors: grime is smeared all over his face and hands, while mud coats his trousers from the knees down. Fatigue is etched into his features, but he smiles when he sees me.

“Bit of gardening on a spring night?” he says. “Oughtn’t you be reclining somewhere in luxury, while servants bring you food and drink?”

“I’ve had to let my servants go, unfortunately. Working for Shoshi does not pay as well as you might think.”

He laughs. “What a shame. You have my condolences.”

I pluck a thorny twig from my plaited hair. “Come and sit for a moment—I need a break, and you look as though you’ve seen the wrong end of a mudslide.”

We settle on the porch, our feet dangling above the grassy cobblestones of the front walk. I sigh heavily. “Whoever knew it could feel so good to sit?”

Noro leans toward me and sniffs. “Not a trace of manure,” he says. “Don’t you work this week?”

“A nameless benefactor gifted me with the loveliest bar of soap ever made.” He looks at his feet and smiles, but says nothing. “How was your…um…assignment?” I say. “It’s good to see you back safe.”

“Quick,” he says. “Without complications.”

“That’s nice,” I say, trying not to wonder where he has been and what he has done. Who, when, why, how many? Did he dispatch his prey with knives, or does he kill in different ways? It is a strange thing to sit next to an assassin, talking about soap and other trivialities. “Glad to be home?”

“Always,” he says, then glances at me. “You seem well, girl. Very…accomplished.”

“Yes, well, Yuki Sanzo has seen fit to teach me many practical skills over the past few days—thank you for that, by the way. She said it was your idea.”

He nods. “She’s an old friend. And a fearsome warrior.”

A twinge of something, some strange insecure thing, flickers in my stomach. I could be fearsome, too, I think to myself, which is absurd. I have no interest in violence, and no aptitude besides. Still, the note of admiration in Noro’s voice when he speaks of Yuki’s prowess leaves me in a bit of a mood.

“I wonder,” I say, eager to change the subject, “if I might make a few suggestions to the council in regard to improvements for the village?”

Noro frowns. “What sort of improvements?”

“Well…technological things. There’s one item in particular I would love to see the Aven’ei adopt. I thought I could explain its function, and your engineers could see to the manufacture.”

“Our engineers are quite occupied in the building and maintaining of defenses,” he replies. “But I’m curious—what is this thing you feel would benefit the people so much?”

“Well—it pertains to a matter of convenience, really. I suppose some might call it a luxury. But really, it’s quite practical, and—”

“What is it?”

I hesitate, a bit embarrassed now that I’ve come to the point of explaining. “It’s…it’s a toilet.” He shakes his head, eyes blank. “It’s sort of like a chamber pot,” I continue, “only it stays permanently in the washroom—you never have to empty it at all!”

“That,” he says, leaning away from me slightly, “is disgusting.”

“What’s disgusting about it?”

“You would keep urine and excrement in the house? Permanently?”

I laugh. “No! No! That’s the beauty of the toilet! It empties itself! The…everything just washes away. There’s no odor, nothing to empty—just comfort and convenience.”

He looks at me critically. “Where does the material go?”

“Down into the pipes, of course!”

“What pipes?”

I realize that I may have gotten a bit ahead of myself, having forgotten about the matter of plumbing.

“Come inside,” I say. “I’ll draw you a picture.”

In the house, I retrieve a pencil and a sheet of paper from the cabinet beside the sofa, and gesture for Noro to join me at the kitchen table. I position my pencil, ready to illustrate—then realize I have absolutely no understanding as to the actual mechanics of the thing. Undeterred, I begin to sketch out a commode.

“There’s water in the basin, you see,” I say, “and a handle here—this empties the contents into the pipes below—” I draw in a vague pipe that looks to end somewhere beneath the front door “—and then the bowl fills automatically with water once again.”

Noro is looking at me as though I’m insane. “Where does the water come from?”

“From additional pipes, of course!”

“And where do the pipes get the water?”

“I—I don’t really know. But I assure you, it’s all very sanitary, and if we could get toilets installed, there’d never be the need to empty a pot in the cold of winter!”

He scrutinizes the drawing, then gives me a piteous sort of smile. “Well. It’s very interesting.”