The Emperor of Any Place by Tim Wynne-Jones

Author:Tim Wynne-Jones [Wynne-Jones, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7636-7410-6
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2015-11-11T16:00:00+00:00

There has been no mention of the strange yellow contraption. I have seen Derwood looking at some lightweight wire in the impressive collection of supplies that I have carted up from the beach. The thin cord that attached his box kite to the yellow machine was no ordinary twine but shone like wire. If that is what Derwood is thinking about, he makes no attempt to retrieve the thing, even though it is pretty clear that his “prison” is unbounded, except by the ocean. The ocean and Tengu. He can come and go from the compound as he pleases. Well, that was obvious from the first morning when he freed himself. But still he seldom wanders away. Maybe for an hour or so and then I fret until he returns.

“If you are killed by Tengu, then I will have to bury you and that is a lot of work. Maybe I will just burn you,” I threatened one day when he had been gone for a long time. Derwood laughed — laughed at me. He did not know what I was saying, but I was very animated in acting out what would happen to him. Ah, I can see you smiling, Hisako. What, me animated?

I suppose that he is too frightened to face Tengu alone and will not go too far or take unnecessary chances. He wears his handgun on his hip like the cowboys in American movies, but surely a pistol would be inadequate to stop the beast. So he stays near and the yellow contraption has made no appearance. “Gib-san-gurlu.” That is what he calls it. If it were meant to be some kind of distress beacon, it has not worked; weeks have passed and no one has come, no one alive. Now and then a body washes up on the beach to be cremated or buried. Ah, Hisako, how I mourn with each new corpse. Surely, the Afterlife is not big enough for all the people who are dying.

I do not show him my watchtower. I do not want him to know of it, and, thankfully, the coral tree is so thick with leaves that one cannot see the little platform sixty feet up. I have a good reason for keeping this secret. I do not want the American to know that Tinian is so close — that American forces are so close. I doubt Derwood could climb, anyway, with only one hand.

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