by eden Hudson
“I won’t need to,” he said, slipping off the shelf with a splash. The ragged wounds where his eyes had been stung for a few moments, then calmed as the cold water soothed them. Raijin surfaced, turning onto his back and floating. “The guai-ray can breathe underwater.”
The twins leapt in on either side of him, sending up matching explosions. Droplets rained from the low ceiling.
The current was gentle there, as if the water had reached the end of a long journey and could finally rest. In spite of his height, his bare feet didn’t touch the bottom, and he could stretch his arms out wide without touching the sides of the pool. He ducked under and scrubbed the gore from his hair, face, and chest. While he did, gill slits opened along his throat and began breathing the water.
When he felt relatively clean again, he surfaced, popping his head up but keeping his gills below the water level.
“Does it feel familiar?” Tsune asked, paddling like a dog around the little cavern.
“Bathing?” Raijin asked.
“The water.” Kitsu paddled back to the shelf and held on. “You’ve been in it before.”
“When I escaped the first time?” Raijin asked.
“Twice before, then,” Tsune amended.
Raijin took a deep breath of the cold, clear water, filling his throat and lungs, then running it back out. This was only the second time he could remember ever breathing underwater, though this was by far more refreshing. The first time, in the Dead Waters Kingdom, he hadn’t realized he could do it, and was too panicked and surprised to enjoy the sensation.
It occurred to him then what the twins had meant.
“The Passage to Eternity,” he said.
“You only had to stick your face in,” Kitsu said.
“We should have realized he wouldn’t think of that,” Tsune said. “Doing the very least required was never good enough for the Thunderer.”
“The Passage comes out here?” Raijin reached out with both arms, feeling around. Besides the three of them, the pool was empty. “What happens to the bodies between the Dead Waters Kingdom and here?”
The white fox twins gave simultaneous shudders, sending ripples across the surface of the water.
“Before, the Grandfather Spirit sent them on to eternity or back to the mortal world to live another life,” Tsune said.
“Now that he answers to Misuru,” Kitsu said, “we don’t know where they go.”
Raijin treaded water, considering this.
“That’s why I sought out the Grandfather Spirit before,” he said after a time. “Because one of his duties in this realm was to send souls back to the mortal world. I must have known that with a damaged heartcenter I couldn’t gather enough Ro to climb the tiers until I could travel between worlds, so I asked him to use his power to send me to the mortal world.”
Tsune made a disgusted noise. “It’s not what I would have asked for, the mortal world being as horrible as it is without being trapped there, but I suppose it was your only option for revenge. Ha-Koi certainly wasn’t earning her way back to the Land of Immortals.”
Raijin thought back to the memory he’d felt crawling through the tunnel. The pain of betrayal, the anger, the sickness in his heartcenter. Had the Thunderer followed his wife to the mortal world for revenge? Without access to all of his immortal memories, Raijin knew he couldn’t fully understand how much Ha-Koi’s treachery had hurt the Thunderer. He had only glimpsed a brief flash of it, but the thought of the god protector of the heavens seeking vengeance for something as petty as hurt and humiliation was so unlike the sage wisdom of the immortals he had always read about that he felt a touch disillusioned. If his immortal self was that resentful and trifling, then what did he have to aspire to?
Across the tunnel, Tsune spat a stream of water at Kitsu, and soon the twins were splashing one another and barking angrily for the other to stop.
They were a far cry from the wise, all-knowing immortals from the old legends as well, more like young pups than ancient sages a human might seek to follow to better themselves. That said, they had helped him get this far, however against their will the aid might have been at times.
“Let’s go,” Raijin said. They didn’t hear him over their noise, so he had to raise his voice and repeat himself.
The guai-ray senses picked up on twin prickles of fear.
“The Great Akane is through the tunnel near the bottom of this pool,” Tsune said.
“That means it’s your turn to lead once again, Thunderer,” Kitsu said. “Try not to let him eat you. Or us.”
Raijin nodded, took a moment to ready himself for the battle ahead, then ducked under the water.
Chapter Twenty-four
MORTAL LANDS
After Lysander disappeared, Koida spent several minutes on the docks trying to retreat into the calm of her Stone Soul, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus. She was so angry. She wasn’t even certain at whom or what, but she felt like screaming.
When she had first learned to build a Stone Soul, Koida thought that it was a way to avoid all emotions. From Cold Sun’s teachings, however, she now knew that the technique was meant to be used as a refuge where she could find clarity and calm no matter how she felt. She was too new to he practice, however, to weather the truly powerful emotional storms on her own.
Finally, hands shaking with rage, she retrieved the puzzle box from the pocket in her untorn sleeve and let the glass moon serpent dig its fangs into her wrist.
When the lavaglass moon broadsword was an arm once more, Koida returned to the junk. The crates of blood oranges had been off-loaded, and only a few sailors remained, lounging, whittling, smoking, or talking.
Cold Sun stood guard at the top of the gangplank, umber skin and ropes of red-clay-smoothed hair glinting in the late-afternoon sun. Koida could see why Rila had posted the hulking Uktena warrior there. If she didn’t know him, Cold Sun’s savage appearance would certainly be intimidating enough to deter her from approaching the ship, much less trying any thievery.
He gave her a shallow Uktena bow of greeting that she returned.
“Your people are so strange,” he said, “always switching from one impractical set of garments to another.”
Koida glanced down at the fine robes. “For once, I agree with you, Cold Sun. I won’t be able to carry out any of my ship’s boy’s duties in these. I’m not certain it will matter, however. We may not be allowed to remain on the ship.”
“What would give you this impression?” he rumbled.
She gave him a brief account of her shore excursion, the hulking Uktena’s usually stoic face growing darker with every word. As she neared the end, Cold Sun bowed to someone behind Koida. It was Hush. Koida turned so that she would not be giving her back to either Cold Sun or the silent master.
“Being ashore seems to have done wonders for you, Hush,” Koida said. The dark pools beneath the silent woman’s eyes were gone, and she seemed far stronger than she had since boarding the ship twelve days before. In one hand, Hush held a paper package painted with the Deep Root character for apothecary.
Rather than answer her, Hush grabbed her hand, dark almond eyes darting around Koida’s face and body as if examining her for injury. Impressions brushed up against Koida’s heartcenter—overhearing a conversation, concern, Singh, force, violence, harm, and a question.
Koida shook her head. “I’m well. He didn’t touch me.”
Hush let out a relieved breath and squeezed her hand.
“You’re both taking this better than Lysander,” Koida said, looking from Cold Sun to the silent physician. “When I told him what happened, he asked me where Singh had taken me, then disappeared.”
Hush’s eyes widened, then her brows drew low in a frown. More urgent impressions assailed Koida, these of Lysander, disappearing, death, and someone repeating an answer to a question.
“I don’t understand,” Koida said, shaking her head.
Taking her by the shoulders, Hush sent her impressions
of Singh, Koida herself, and an unknown place, then Lysander and a hound tracking a scent.
“You want to know where Singh took me?”
Hush nodded, her black horsetail flipping with the urgency. Impressions of Lysander, slaughter, and prevention of a crime followed.
“The Breakwater,” Koida said. “I doubt I could find it, however. I know it is up in the city proper—”
Hush glanced around, her dark almond eyes flashing with Ro as she activated one of her strange abilities. Then suddenly, she stilled like a hawk spotting movement in the grass. The silent master released Koida’s shoulders and streaked down the gangplank to the exact place on the docks where Lysander had interceded with the cart runner for her.
There Hush stopped and waved insistently for Koida and Cold Sun to follow her.
Puzzled, Koida glanced up at her Uktena friend.
“The wise physician would not ask it of us unless it was necessary,” Cold Sun said.
He broke into a run, his heavy footfalls shaking the plank beneath her feet. Koida sprinted after him, catching up to the lumbering warrior.
Seeing that they were following, Hush darted off into the city.
Without the time Koida had spent training her body for the Path of the Thunderbird, she doubted she would have been able to keep up with Cold Sun. In spite of his size, the huge Uktena flew like a bird over the cobblestones. And even running as fast as she could, Koida quickly lost sight of Hush, the silent master slicing through the crowd like a falling blade. Luckily Cold Sun, who stood a head and shoulders above the masses, could still see the wise physician’s back.
“I have seen her move much faster than this before in battle,” he said. “I believe she is holding herself back just enough that we may follow.”
The pitch of the streets steepened as they went deeper into the city, and soon, the businesses on either side began to shift to accommodate wealthier tastes. Koida didn’t recognize any of them, but she knew they were getting closer to the brothel she had just escaped.
“Hush is going after Lysander.” Her words came out between gasps, though she didn’t feel winded through the glass moon venom. It was a strange sensation to feel her lungs billowing and her heart pumping wildly while she herself felt no ill effects from sprinting over so great a distance.
Cold Sun grunted in agreement, but didn’t attempt to say anything further. He didn’t have anything running through his veins to numb the feeling of breathless exhaustion.
They crossed a wide main road with far less foot traffic, weaving through the few runner carts and people strolling in elegant finery, then Koida saw it—the wide stone front of the Breakwater. She caught a glimpse of Hush’s black horsetail, then the silent master was nothing more than a black streak on the brothel’s steps. The door hung open behind her, a shocked-looking sensha in brilliant orange and blue silks staring at the empty doorway.
When Koida and Cold Sun ran up the steps, the sensha regained her senses and barred their way.
“The Breakwater does not cater to the likes of savages, as you should have told him, sister,” the sensha snapped at Koida. “Take your client elsewhere.”
Somewhere upstairs, glass broke and a man screamed as if he were being hacked apart. Running feet pounded the floor above their heads.
Koida ripped the glass moon serpent from her wrist. Immediately, the directionless rage she’d felt on the docks boiled to life in her heartcenter, and her left arm shifted to the deadly lavaglass moon broadsword. With her right hand, Koida grabbed the sensha by the collar of her silken robes and shoved her against the wall with a thud.
“I am not your sister sensha, nor am I some helpless child to be bullied, locked in a suite, and taken advantage of.” She rested the moon broadsword across the sensha’s throat. “I am Shyong San Koida, second daughter of the Exalted Emperor Shyong San Hao, and rightful heir to the throne. If you cannot respect me, then you will at least fear me.”
The sensha trembled in Koida’s grasp, her pale silver eyes wide with terror.
A huge hand engulfed Koida’s shoulder, and an enormous lavaglass machete with an undulating blade appeared at the edge of her vision. Cold Sun’s blade arm.
“You may not...be her sister, Koida,” he panted, still out of breath from the run, “but as my brother’s betrothed...you are my sister. I would not see...a member of my family...harm an innocent. Release her and step away, or I will remove you.”
The male screaming above had died down and panicked female voices had taken its place. Several pairs of feet scrambled around overhead, as if uncertain what to do.
“Someone help him!” a man cried. “Please! Someone!”
Lysander.
Koida released the shaking woman and ran to the stairs. Together, she and Cold Sun climbed to the second floor.
Brightly garbed senshas, cleaning staff in drab colors, and men in various stages of undress all scrambled around the hall, calling for help or wringing their hands. Through the crowd, she caught a glimpse of the gilt and lacquer tiger crouching in the grass. A pair of hobnail boots stuck out of the door.
The frightened mob parted easily around Cold Sun, allowing Koida to follow the huge warrior to the edge of the growing pool of blood that flowed from the Tiger in the Grass suite. No one seemed to notice that the girl and the Uktena they were allowing past had lavaglass blades hanging at their sides.
The seconds seemed to stretch and slow as Koida took in the awful scene. The hobnail boots in the doorway belonged to Captain Singh, as it seemed did most of the blood. Colorful shards of glass covered the floor. A few smaller pieces stuck out of the captain’s arms and hands. Had one of the lewd paintings fallen on him?
Lysander knelt bare-chested at the captain’s side, holding his sopping red jacket to the captain’s throat.
“Get a physician!” the foreigner bellowed, though it was clear from Singh’s vacant gaze that he was beyond the help of healers, no matter how gifted. Face wet with tears, Lysander begged in a broken voice, “Captain, no...”
Sickened by the sudden realization that she was staring at a dead body, Koida put her remaining hand over her mouth and hurried to turn away. Lysander didn’t truly care about Captain Singh, did he? Any other time, she would have said he didn’t, but listening to his bitter weeping made her heartcenter constrict with pain and loss.
Hush stood at the back of the crowd, watching Lysander with an unreadable look in her eyes. Light streamed in from each of the open doors lining the hall, but the silent master was shrouded in a haze of shadow, almost as if she were standing behind a thin curtain of dark gauze.
When Koida caught the woman’s gaze, Hush glanced at Cold Sun’s back, then jerked her head. Koida touched the Uktena’s thick arm, then directed him to Hush.
The silent woman led them out of the brothel and down the street. They passed a group of city guards jogging toward the Breakwater. Koida ducked her head and held her lavaglass blade carefully at her side where the flowing plum skirts of her robes would obscure it.
Hush turned northward, taking them farther away from the port.
“Wait,” Koida said, grabbing the silent master’s wrist. “Where are we going?”
Hush sent her an impression of the city, then distance and safety.
“What about Lysander?” Koida spun around, searching for the city guards.
The silent master sent her an impression of Lysander, then of an eel sliding out of a fisherman’s grasp, then of murder, angry friends, revenge, and finally Koida.
“But I didn’t do anything,” Koida said.
Hush shrugged and sent her suspicion, appearances, and timing that was too convenient to be a coincidence. The woman jerked her head northward and began to walk again.
“No,” Koida said, refusing to follow. “I won’t leave Pernicious. Or Cold Sun’s war ram. We can’t leave them locked up in cages and in the hands of strangers.”
THE SETTING SUN STREAKED the sky with glowing fingers of peach light stretching
through deep magentas and the brilliant blues of approaching night. From behind a stack of crates, Koida could see only a few sailors aboard the cargo junk, hanging swathes of deep blue fabric from the sail beams.
At the top of the gangplank stood Rila. The hairless quartermaster stared out at the docks from the deck of the junk, her arms crossed over her narrow chest, eyes roving the shadows as if searching for something.
Or someone.
One of the few details Koida could recall from old stories about the sea was that a ship hung up blue-dyed sheets when the captain died. Obviously the grisly news had traveled from the Breakwater, perhaps carried to them by the city guard.
In that light, Rila’s scrutiny was understandable. As Hush had insisted, the captain’s death and the sudden disappearance of the four new hands he had taken on had made her suspicious.
Fear prickled down the back of Koida’s neck and made her stomach weak. She swallowed hard and patted the flat of her blade arm nervously against her side. She only had to distract Rila long enough for Hush and Cold Sun to do their part. For Pernicious’s sake. She couldn’t leave her awful best friend trapped in that star-iron cage as weak as any natural horse and completely at the hairless quartermaster’s mercy.
Taking a deep breath, Koida stepped out of the shadows of the crates she’d been crouched behind, lavaglass moon broadsword held out to her side, and strode up to the junk.
Rila’s eyes locked on her, burning with hatred.
“Come running back, have you?” she sneered, manifesting the glowing Demon Fox of Nine Tails in her right hand. “At least the last ship’s boy had the good courtesy to throw himself off the junk in the night where he wouldn’t be inconveniencing anyone.”
Koida scowled at the woman’s casual cruelty. Both Cold Sun and Hush had cautioned her that she only had to keep Rila talking until they had retrieved Pernicious and Cliff Breaker, that she would be killed if she tried to confront the quartermaster. But the memory of Rila’s triumphant sneer at Cook when Koida agreed to go with Singh made hatred flare to life in Koida’s heartcenter. Rila had known what Singh was doing. She’d not only known, but helped him. Koida’s remaining hand balled into a fist. From some unknown spot in the sea, the lost ship’s boy’s spirit cried out for justice.
