To the west of the Way, the land dipped into the floodplains surrounding this royal branch of the Selegan River. Many of the crops had been harvested already, except for redpop and the occasional lines of brilliant green where new beans sprouted for a second harvest. To the east spread wide swaths of grazing fields dotted with cattle and goats. Small towns and farming communities appeared every hour or so as they walked; at the turnoffs and crossroads children sold fresh well water and mint tea, hard cheeses and bread. Spirit shrines climbed over one another in such places, like tiny spirit villages.
Nothing stared at everything like a suspicious puppy, eager to investigate, awed, yet shy of direct contact with strangers. They sometimes stepped off the road to allow a cart to pass that was pulled by flat-horned buffalo or drifted in the wake of a large crowd of pilgrims with their fanned hats. When royal messengers charged by on galloping horses or a company of warriors passed, she and Sky casually hid either among a crowd or off the road. Nothing’s eyes remained wide as she tromped at Sky’s side. If not for the dire circumstances, she might’ve enjoyed the newness and adventure.
They slept at first in crossroads shelters, free to all on foot, so long as each person thanked the fire spirits or the spirits of the foundation. Such shelters were tended to and kept up by servants of the Empress with the Moon in Her Mouth as a gift to her people.
Neither Nothing nor Sky was especially talkative, and so time passed in silence but for Sky’s occasional instruction or quiet explanation of a crossroads custom. Nothing’s mouth turned dry as linen and she had to remember to take drinks of water. The sun burned crisply in the blue skies every morning, and most afternoons rain clouds drifted in to bless them with bright mist and diamond drops before parting in time for a rainbow sunset. Nothing’s wool jacket came in handy for pulling over her head like a hood. She was glad of the sturdy boots that survived all manner of mud. Even with the decent roads and Sky’s knowledge, it was hard walking all day every day. Nothing slept deeply, like a snuffed candle, and woke up sore.
Though they were disinclined to talk on the road, the constant presence of others added to the need for silence. It wouldn’t be right to speak of Kirin or the Sorceress Who Eats Girls where any traveler or trader could overhear. Sometimes Sky took Nothing’s hand without warning or set his arm around her shoulders as they walked, and if she protested, he directed her attention to a fellow traveler darting glances at them. She sighed and leaned into him, or offered a sugary smile as if they were sweethearts. Nothing never noticed such attention before Sky did. She was bad at reading people.
One afternoon at a crossroads shrine Nothing crouched to crumble the last of her cheese into the offering bowl, and a spirit slipped out of the jolly old woman statue tucked in the dark corner. “Hello,” it said.
Nothing blinked, surprised at the forward manner. Spirits seemed shy, but it was just that most people couldn’t hear or see them. The spirits in the palace had been disinclined to talk until Nothing had convinced them she was friendly. Except for the dawn sprites always clamoring for light and attention. Demons were more talkative. The better to persuade you out of your life, she supposed. “Hello,” Nothing whispered back.
The spirit was a scrap of mist shaped exactly like the jolly statue, with cherry-pink cheeks and hair curled into diaphanous clouds. “Do you have something sweet?” it asked.
“You don’t like cheese?”
“Everyone leaves cheese.”
Smiling at the dry tone, Nothing leaned down further. “How about a kiss?”
The spirit eyed her suspiciously. “Keep your teeth away from me.”
Nothing kissed her finger and held it out for the spirit, who opened its mouth in delight and put Nothing’s finger into its mouth up to the first knuckle. The swallowing kiss tickled her, and Nothing wiggled.
“Nothing,” Sky said like a grunt. He grabbed the collar of her outer robe and hauled her up. “Don’t converse with spirits. That will mark you as different faster than a chain of royal moon pearls.”
She scowled and said, “Blessings for your house,” to the spirit as it melted off her finger and pooled back into the lap of its statue.
Then she stormed off, and Sky had to take a few longer strides to catch up. “Tell me what else I should not do, The Day the Sky Opened,” she demanded hotly. “And never drag me around like a child.”
Sky slid her an unperturbed look. “Act like a person, not a goblin.”
But he glanced over his shoulder, and Nothing realized he could see the spirit as easily as she did.
By the sixth day the first of the living King-Trees appeared. Massive trees as wide around as a house, their rough red trunks pointed straight to Heaven, and when a wind blew, small green needles scattered from hundreds of feet up. This was the start of the rain forest, and the Selegan River narrowed, curving west away from the road until it vanished into the misty green forest. There were fewer villages in the rain forest, and those there were no longer pressed up to the road but were set a ways off. Travelers branched out at crossroads until Sky and Nothing were alone more hours than they were not. Even at midday the sun barely penetrated the thick canopy, making daylight gentle and shade green. Wisps of light and seeds and aether fragments floated in the air, birds chirped and yelled across the huge empty spaces here where the King-Trees dominated, and sometimes the ferns shivered with the passing of small creatures.
Nothing said, “It’s like walking inside an emerald.”
And Sky studied her for a long moment before he nodded in solemn agreement.
They’d been traveling for eight days when it happened that they reached no way station nor traveler’s lodging at sunset and Sky had to make a camp for them. Locating a decent clearing was easy, as folk camped frequently. There were even stumps and logs in rings around fire pits built of stone and permanent stakes for tying up an oilcloth shelter against the damp. Sky had such a cloth rolled tightly at the bottom of his bag, and he showed Nothing how to secure it with hemp rope. They gathered armfuls of soft needles from the smaller fir trees that nestled among the King-Trees and made nests of them. Sky quietly taught Nothing to dig for onions and edible bulbs they could roast in a fire, and how and where to cover her waste. He soaked a handful of fallen nuts in a shallow bowl of water gathered from the stream and said in the morning they’d have fresh salmon for breakfast.
Nothing surprised him by making a fire herself with a handful of dry needles and sticks. She knelt and coaxed the tricky fire spirits out of the earth to dance.
It was their first night alone.
A long twilight gave over into night, and beyond the ring of their fire the rain forest was complete darkness. The moon was too thin to penetrate the canopy. Besides the crackle of flames, Nothing listened to the light tapping of water as it trickled and dripped from high branches and the low call of an owl.
She sat very near to Sky, their shoulders brushing in an effort to share warmth. Though it was the end of summer and the days were warm, the damp crept into their clothes and hair, chilling skin and sinking all the way into their bones. Part of Nothing liked it, for she imagined moss growing on her bones, her teeth shining like pearls, and her hair tangled as those ragged vines. It made her feel like she belonged in the rain forest. Like she could be at home here.
In the dark, Sky’s brown eyes gleamed bluish like a demon’s. It was a very comforting light; he was as dangerous as anything in the rain forest, Nothing thought. Even more than grizzled bears or a spirit of a King-Tree. Now, if any King-Tree had died and become a demon itself, perhaps Sky would be no match for it. But Nothing supposed she could make friends with such a demon.
“Did you come exactly this way with Kirin?” she asked. It was the first full sentence she’d spoken in two days.
“No.”
Nothing expected he’d say no more, because Sky stared at the fire’s vivid blue core hard enough to burn his eyes. But then he said, “We came this direction, though not directly. Kirin liked to wan
der at crossroads or venture into villages to speak with people. We waited until we were at least three days from the palace, but then he wanted to be anonymous and we ate at wayfarer inns and bargained rooms for labor at farms.”
“Kirin knows how to be a farmer?” Nothing asked incredulously.
“He was my wife, and so sent me to shoulder bales of wheat and muck stables while he learned to tuck cherry dumplings and steam a perfect tea in the kitchen. Or”—Sky’s eyes crinkled in amusement—“once or twice I found him with his gown tucked between his legs, chasing babies through the garden.”
It was difficult to imagine, but Nothing liked it.
“I think he was happy,” Sky said quietly. “As happy as he’s capable of being.”
“You don’t think he can be happy?”
“He thinks too much.”
Nothing huffed. “What name did you call him?”
Sky snorted. “He told me to call him sweetheart, because he didn’t want to hear anything from my mouth but his real name.”
“That’s… romantic.”
“The first time we stayed with a farming family, I introduced him as Too Pretty for Her Own Good.”
“Was he angry?” Nothing shook her head. She never so directly disobeyed Kirin.
“He liked it,” Sky muttered.
“Was it difficult to refer to him as… her? As your wife?”
“No. That’s what he was.” Something in Sky’s posture shifted, closing, and Nothing fell silent.
In the morning they did have fresh salmon, caught in the stream. They ate it plain on the bone, and it was so soft and flaking Nothing forgot to be cranky, and skipped ahead to search for a good spot to make a tiny shrine to the stream’s spirit. She spread the delicate bones into wings against a flat boulder, giving the fish flight, and murmured a prayer to the forest and earth.
They were alone all day again, and though Nothing had thought of the most important subject they should cover, she could not bring herself to speak while the sun was up and the rain forest glittered and glowed happy green. She whistled to the birds and tickled the curling fern fronds; she patted her palm to the soft red bark of the King-Trees and waved at the heavy pink flowers dripping from vines on spreading maple and skinny hemlock trees.
She knew better than to be happy, because Kirin was in danger, and they were only passing through. But it was hard. Maybe she felt free out here because Kirin had been free too.
In the evening, once she’d coaxed two fire spirits into snapping their tails together for a spark and once Sky had baked tubers, she said, “What do you know of the Sorceress Who Eats Girls?”
“Probably the same as you.”
“Tell me anyway, for you’ve traveled and have different friends. I know only whispers, hints, and demon secrets.”
Sky snorted. “Demons might know better than anyone what the sorceress is.”
Nothing drew her knees to her chest and hugged them.
After a moment Sky said, “A sorcerer is made when a witch or a priest somehow reaches so far into the aether they are able to forge a connection to it that they then bring back into the living world with them. It is nearly impossible, and every sorcerer manages it differently. They exist between things, able to call on powers of life and death that only spirits and demons and the Queens of Heaven can touch. In order not to be consumed by their power, they must find a house, like a demon, and anchor themselves there, or bond with a great spirit. The Four Living Mountains each have a sorcerer: they are named Skybreaker, Still Wind, A Dance of Stars, and The Scale. Each is powerful, each as benevolent as he is isolated, unless one takes something of his or denies him a thing he—or one of his familiars—desires.
“A hundred and fifty years ago, the Fifth Mountain erupted, killing its spirit—or the other way around. The newborn great demon spat fire and bled lava for weeks, until the Emperor with the Moon in His Mouth sent an emissary to bargain. He offered a tribute to the demon, on recommendation of the great demon of his palace. This bought the emperor and his descendants peace with the Fifth Mountain. Then, eighty years ago, a massive storm broke around the Fifth Mountain, roiling the veins of lava deep within, arguing so loudly and long that our great demon leagues and leagues away turned over in discomfort, and a single wall cracked on each of the palace’s seven circles. When the storm dissipated, the Fifth Mountain housed a sorcerer.”
Sky paused, and Nothing’s eyes, which had sunk closed, flashed open. His low voice had lulled her nearly into leaning her head upon his shoulder. She swallowed and poked at the fire, then turned her face to press her cheek against a knee and stare at Sky.
He was scowling at the fire. His dark eyebrows drew low over his eyes, his mouth turned down, and his handsome jaw clenched in a perfect square. His breath did not shift his shoulders, but his back and stomach instead, for he’d been trained to control his body’s rhythms and breathe from his core.
Then suddenly Sky continued. “A sorcerer capable of bonding with—mastering—a great demon must be vastly powerful and vastly dangerous. The empress, Kirin’s great-grandmother, sent emissaries, but they were turned away again and again. The new sorcerer did not care for any bargain, it seemed. Everyone speculated, wondered, and moved on, waiting for some word or act to point us in a direction of action. Nothing. Nothing happened.”
Nothing smiled to herself. She hadn’t been born yet, at the time.
“More recently, just after Kirin was born, the sorcerers of the Four Living Mountains reported that great magic rumbled in the Fifth Mountain, and storms assailed the whole northwest of the empire, but the sorcerers were turned away when they inquired. Then a girl disappeared from a village at the foot of the Fifth Mountain. Another, several months later, who’d been fishing eels in the Selegan. Girls disappeared again and again, at first all from that area, soon from across the empire. But the Fifth Mountain allowed no access to its sorcerer or its secrets. Then, eleven years ago, a unicorn walked into the palace and directly up through the circles until it stood in the court and spoke to the Empress with the Moon in Her Mouth. I was not there, nor were you, but Kirin was. He remembers the trilling voice and the smell of the sea, the pearlescent, twisted horn curving like a young moon off its forehead and long nose. He remembers the pretty clicks of its delicate cloven hooves and the threads of starlight woven into its mane and the casual flick of its tail.”
“What did the unicorn say?” Nothing asked, knowing when to urge on a story, like any who’d grown up surrounded by them.
Sky nodded slightly at her knowing question. “It said, ‘The Sorceress of the Fifth Mountain requires the most beautiful maiden in the empire. Do you know where she might find such a girl?’ Lord All-in-the-Water said, ‘We will not feed her our children; it’s monstrous.’ The unicorn said, ‘That is no concern of mine, only the message I bring. She will not stop until she finds the one she needs.’ And in a rare display of public opinion, the empress herself parted her veil of silver to ask the unicorn, ‘Why does she hunt beautiful girls?’ and the unicorn said, ‘I understand they taste good.’
“The uproar at that answer caused chaos enough the unicorn was able to vanish. The story spread, and girls learned to fear the Sorceress Who Eats Girls.”
Nothing waited for Sky to deliver the final piece of the story, about the empress sending warriors to the mountain, asking the Living Mountains to attack, but he did not. As the silence stretched, invaded slowly by the snapping fire spirits and the soft hum of the wind through the midnight canopy, she lifted her head to peer at him.
The demon-blue gleam of his eyes glistened, and Nothing realized Sky gritted his teeth against tears. Furious tears. His lips parted, and she could see his bared teeth as he hissed a sigh.
“You’re afraid she’s eaten him,” Nothing cried, leaping to her feet.
Sky covered his face, scouring it roughly with his hands. Nothing hit his shoulder, which was immobile as a boulder.
He caught her wrist. “You have never seen a
more beautiful maiden than Kirin Dark-Smile.”
Nothing did not tug free, or try to. She stared down at him. His up-tilted face was a mask of forced optimism. His grip was warm around her wrist, and he applied just enough pressure to pull her down beside him again.
“He’s not dead.”
“No,” Sky said.
“I would know, just as I knew the imposter! She didn’t eat Kirin because he’s not a girl.”
Sky pressed his mouth into a line of disagreement.
“Sky! What even makes a girl?”
“She took him, so she decided whatever the answer is, Kirin qualifies. And I—I agree with her. When he wants to be a girl, he is.”
Nothing took her turn clenching her jaw. She seethed for a moment, then carefully opened her mouth. “I don’t know anything else about the sorceress. That is the same story I know. I cannot think of more details, though I wish I’d asked the great demon of the palace.”
“You could ask at the crossroads shrines. If you’re careful and no one is watching.” His voice rumbled in his big chest. He still held on to Nothing’s wrist.
She turned her hand around to put their palms together. “He’s not dead,” she said again.
When Sky remained silent, she pressed, “If she ate him, why send the imposter? She’s keeping him alive for something.”
Sky looked directly at her then, and his terrible expression curdled the slight food in her belly. After a long, long time, he said, “Even if he is dead, we need to know that, too.”
Night Shine Page 4
