by Cindy Lin
“We haven’t even gotten a look in the actual mines yet,” said Tora.
“Trust me, we don’t need to,” Usagi said. “What I’ve been hearing since we got here is horrible. Seeing it might be even worse.”
Her ears pricked and she stopped in her tracks. “There’s someone else here,” she hissed. “Somewhere to the west.”
Inu raised his head and sniffed. “By that far mound over there. How did I miss that?” He shook his head. “The stench of the mines and the graves is throwing me off.”
With a stretch and twist like a cat just awakening from a nap, Tora stole a look in the direction Inu was indicating. She squinted. “I see him. A youngling. Huh. He’s scraggly looking. Ox Boy here could squash him in an instant.”
“Oi, be nice,” said Goru mildly.
“It’s a compliment. You could squash anyone in an instant,” said Usagi.
“That’s true,” he admitted with a modest shrug.
“Can you see anything else?” Inu asked. “He seems to be alone.”
Peering toward the westernmost hill grave, Tora frowned. “He doesn’t look much older than we are. I don’t think he’s escaped the mines—he’d be skeletal if he had. He’s not in any sort of armor, but he’s got a sword. I don’t like that.”
“Maybe he wants to join us,” Usagi suggested. “Maybe he escaped the mines a while ago and has been hiding here.”
Tora considered. “Or maybe he’s spying for the Guard.”
“Let’s see if he follows us,” said Inu. “We’ll keep going.”
They trod on, Inu leading the way forward, while Usagi listened with her rabbit hearing and Tora used her tiger vision to keep track of the strange youngling. He was moving quickly, stepping lightly on the rocks and gravel that covered the hills as if he traversed them often. His feet barely made a sound, but every now and again his sword would rattle in its sheath, and occasionally there would be a small stony crunch or the clatter of an accidentally kicked pebble as he hurried to keep up with them.
“He’s definitely following us,” said Usagi. She glanced back. The sky was lightening as the sun began to emerge, and it was getting harder for the youngling to hide. Even she could see him now, crouching behind a pile of rocks, unsuccessfully trying to conceal himself. His hair was shaved down on the sides, but stuck up in longer spikes on top, protruding from behind the heap of rubble.
Tora rolled her eyes. “This is silly.” She whirled and, in a burst of spirit speed, ran and leaped upon their stalker. He yelped and struggled, but Tora quickly overcame him. She called for the others. “Oi! Come look at what I’ve caught!”
As she approached, Usagi saw that Tora had him facedown on the ground, his arms pinned behind him. His cheek was mashed against a rock, and he winced as Tora grabbed him by the scruff. “Who are you and why are you following us?” she demanded.
Gritting his teeth, the youngling said nothing. Tora looked over her shoulder at Usagi. “Take his weapon.”
While Tora continued to pepper him with questions, Usagi reached for the sword at his side. It rang out with a metallic zing as she pulled it out from its sheath. It was a fine one, made of the hardest steel, with a beautifully lacquered scabbard. The hilt was wrapped in glistening sharkskin and bound with gold thread. “Nice,” she muttered, examining it. It would have looked right at home on the weapons wall at the Shrine of the Twelve.
“Hold it to his throat,” said Tora, who was crouched on top of their stalker, her feet firmly planted on his back. As Inu and Goru joined them, she scowled. “He’s not answering any of my questions.”
“Why should I when you’re crushing me?” her captive grunted.
Tora glared at him. “You want to know what real crushing is? Here, Goru, let’s have you sit on him!”
The youngling’s eyes widened, but Goru just sighed. “I can do more than crush people, you know.”
He nudged Tora aside and sat the youngling up, keeping a firm hold on him with an enormous hand. Though their captive was scruffy and lean, with spiky, unkempt hair and a faded scar on one cheek, he was well dressed in an embroidered tunic and pants of deep oxblood red.
“If he’s not a spy, he must be a bandit,” Usagi muttered to Tora. “Look at his clothes and his weapon. They have to be stolen.”
With a curt nod, Tora examined the blade of the youngling’s sword. “Agreed.” She took it and pointed the sword at him. “All right, you sneak. I’m giving you one more chance to state your business. What were you doing, following us around? Are you spying for the Guard?”
An indignant look crossed the youngling’s face. His scar puckered. “I do nothing for the Guard.”
“Were you planning on robbing us?” asked Inu. “That’s unwise. I’m sure your sword is a sharp one, but you won’t get much from us. Besides, you’re outnumbered.”
The youngling smirked. “Maybe, maybe not.”
Tora gave the sword a little shake. “We’re not jesting. Answer our questions or you’ll never get this back.”
He glanced up at the rising sun, and a mischievous gleam came into his eyes. “I don’t really care if I get that back or not.” The boy shrugged.
“Wait, what’s happening to your tunic?” Usagi stared as the youngling’s clothes began transforming before her eyes. The thick oxblood fabric faded to a nondescript gray and erupted in patches, while his pants developed holes at the knee and ragged hems. His sturdy felt-and-leather shoes turned into worn straw sandals, tied to his feet with scraps of rope.
The sword Tora held disappeared, and she jumped. “What . . . I was just . . . it’s gone!” she spluttered, her hands grasping at air.
“Spirits!” exclaimed Goru, squeezing the youngling’s shoulder so hard that he squealed like a pig. “Sorry.”
Usagi’s whole body tingled. They were close to the last missing Treasure! The hammer could create anything you wished for—but whatever it granted wouldn’t last long, existing for a single cycle through the hours of the zodiac before vanishing. Looking at the boy in his rags, it was clear that his finery had come from the Conjurer, and recently. She tried to contain her excitement as she exchanged glances with Inu and the others. She could see they were thinking the same thing.
“You wouldn’t happen to have seen a special hammer around here, would you?” the Dog Heir said carefully.
The youngling’s eyes widened for a split second, then he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pulled at his sleeves, which had become rather short, and avoided Inu’s gaze.
“You do too,” accused Tora. She flapped her empty hands. “How else do you explain your disappearing sword? It was right here.”
The youngling shrugged. “What sword? I don’t see any sword. Stop making things up.” He pressed his lips together defiantly.
Tora’s eyes narrowed and her lip curled, exposing one of her tiger teeth. She took a step toward him, but Inu stopped her.
“All right, then. Sorry about that,” he said to the youngling. “There must have been some sort of mistake. We hadn’t realized the Eastern Mines came this far west, and the fumes from the mines are addling our brains.” He nodded at Goru. “Let him go.” Goru looked puzzled but released his grip. The boy rubbed his shoulder with a grimace and got to his feet. With a wary gaze, he backed away a few steps. When Inu waved a dismissive hand, the youngling turned and ran off.
They watched him go. He looked back over his shoulder once, then sped up until he disappeared around a mound.
“Quick,” said Inu. “We need to follow him.”
They scrambled after their spy, launching into spirit speed until they were nearly on top of him. “There he is!” said Tora, coming to a sudden halt. The boy faltered and turned his head.
“Don’t let him see us,” hissed Inu, and they pressed themselves into the shadows of the grave mounds.
Goru’s stomach growled, loud enough to sound like a disgruntled bear. Inu frowned and shushed him. “What?” Goru looked affronted
. “We never had our morning meal!”
Reaching into her pack, Usagi pulled out a strip of salted boar. “Here.”
“So small.” Goru peered glumly at the wrinkled, dry sliver in his giant fingers. With a sigh, he popped it in his mouth and began to chew.
The scar-faced boy resumed his hurried trek to some unknown destination. Hanging back as far as they could, Usagi, Inu, and Tora used their animal talents to track his movements while keeping out of the boy’s sight. They clambered over the rock-strewn slopes of the hill graves, threading through the mounds as the youngling jogged north.
Usagi was stunned at how many graves there were. They seemed to stretch on for at least a league, in sight of the Eastern Mines. The smoke from the smelters rose thickly in the morning air, and the towering slag piles loomed in the distance, even bigger than the grave mounds.
“Where do you think he’s going?” she wondered.
“To the Conjurer, I hope,” said Inu. “It was so obvious that his clothes and sword were granted by the hammer, especially when they vanished right before our eyes. That’s the downside to getting whatever you wish for—any happiness it brings you won’t last.”
Tora scoffed. “If whatever I wished for didn’t disappear on me, my happiness would stick around just fine.”
Despite the youngling’s threadbare clothes and tattered slippers, he strode over the rocky ground quickly, never seeming to flag. They followed him for hours, and even as the sun rose to its highest point in the sky, the scar-faced boy kept going. Usagi was impressed by his stamina.
Vegetation was starting to return to the landscape, and the grave mounds gave way to actual hills. Usagi picked her way past dense low scrub and dusty plants covered in prickles. There might be places to hide here. She wondered if they were getting close to his home.
They climbed up a ridge that afforded them a look at the plain. The Eastern Mines looked smaller now, the haunting sounds of mining and despair grown faint, and Inu had let the cloth around his nose slide down. Usagi detected the rattle of wheels just over the next ridge—the Ring Road was near. As they watched and followed the boy, he seemed to drop out of sight.
“Where’d he go?” asked a bewildered Goru.
Inu raised his head and sniffed. “He’s still there. And a bunch of other people—not far from here.”
At that, Usagi pricked her ears. Sure enough, there were voices.
“Look who’s back! We were just going to send a search party after you.”
“Stayed out too long, did you? Look, all your hammer grants are gone. Gods be good, Panri, you know better than that.”
“Not my fault—I came across a bunch of travelers in the Shadowlands.”
“They’re talking about the Conjurer—and us,” said Usagi.
Putting a finger to his lips, Inu whispered, “Okay then. Stay close and don’t make a sound.” Gingerly, they traversed a rocky path and drew near to what looked like a ravine. Peering over the edge, they saw it was an old abandoned rock quarry, full of marble scree and boulders. Clumps of bushes had taken root in the half-filled pit, and a pool of water had formed at the bottom. Around the pool were a few tents. The scar-faced boy they called Panri was hopping down, surefooted and quick, toward a small cluster of people gathered outside the tents. They were all dressed in the oxblood finery that Panri had been wearing.
“I was going to see if they had anything worth taking,” said the scar-faced boy. He reached the quarry floor and trotted to the group. “But all I got from them was a little information before I let them go. They know about the hammer.”
“Information? More like a beatdown,” muttered Tora. “We let him go.” Frowning, she studied those listening to the boy as he chattered on. “Those people—they’re not all younglings. Some are older.” Her eyes narrowed. Then with a gasp, she lurched forward, knocking a rock into the ravine. As it clattered, the boy and his companions turned and looked up. The tallest was a man who looked well into his twenties. At the sight of them, he drew out a sword.
“Intruders!” he shouted. “Get your weapons—now!”
“We should go,” said Usagi nervously. “They’re not happy to see us.” They backed away, all except for Tora, who stared down into the old quarry, frozen. Usagi tugged at her arm. “Tora, come on.”
Tora whirled, tears in her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she choked. “The older one. I know that face and that voice. It’s my brother.”
Chapter 14
The Painted Hollow
WITH A TREMBLING HAND, Tora pointed at the tall young man at the bottom of the old quarry. He’d drawn his sword and was ordering the other members of his gang to find their weapons and take cover. Usagi couldn’t quite see his face clearly, as his dark hair hung about his shoulders like a curtain. But Tora’s face had gone pale. Her amber eyes were wide with shock, filled with tears threatening to spill over.
“It’s Imugi—my second-oldest brother,” she insisted. “He was nineteen when the Guard took him away.” She hugged herself, rubbing the scars on her right arm. “I thought I’d never see him again.”
Usagi couldn’t keep her mouth from hanging open. “Are you sure, Tora?” She turned to the others. Both Inu and Goru gazed into the pit, their jaws slack as well. The scar-faced boy and his companions raced to take up positions behind boulders and slag heaps, while the man who was supposedly Tora’s brother gestured at a young woman with a bow in her hand. He pointed up at them.
“What in the name of the Twelve?” muttered the Dog Heir. He backed away from the steep edge of the old quarry. “Tora, if that’s really your brother, he’d better recognize you fast, because they don’t look welcoming. Let’s get out of here.”
Tora turned on Inu, her teeth clenched. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until I talk to him.” With that, she waved her arms and began shouting her brother’s name. “Imugi! It’s Tora! Your sister!”
Usagi heard a twang. “Duck!” she screamed, and yanked Tora down. An arrow whistled over their heads and richocheted off the stony hillside behind them.
“I don’t think he’s listening, Tora,” said Goru. He shrank back as far as he could, but his bulk was hard to miss. “Can we go? I’m feeling like a target bale up here.” He pulled his pack off and held it in front of him, but it barely covered his face.
“I’m going to make him listen.” Tora scrambled to her feet and tried again. She shrieked her brother’s name and then pointed to herself. “I’m your sister, you fool! Tora!” Another twang sounded. Usagi was about to shout a warning, but Tora saw it coming this time and dodged out of the way. “That is so rude! If Papa were here, he’d wring your neck! How dare you shoot at your baby sister?”
The man ordered his archer to hold her fire. He stared up at them. “How dare you claim to be my dead sister?”
“I’m not dead, you big oaf,” Tora hollered back. “And you’re the one I thought was dead!” She put her hands on her hips as she stared into the ravine, as if daring the archer to shoot. Then she took a few steps forward. “Good gracious gods, it’s really you! Imugi, born in the year of the Dragon, ruled by the Metal element, from Goldentusk in the province of Stone River. I know it’s you!”
The young man faltered. “Tora?” He squinted, and his eyes flew open. “No!” He broke into a run.
Usagi heard Tora begin to sniffle as she climbed down into the old quarry. Her brother scrambled up, meeting her halfway, and threw his arms around her. Tora burst into sobs, as did her brother. Overcome, they clung to each other and wept.
Glancing at Inu and Goru, Usagi thought their eyes looked suspiciously shiny. Or was it because her own tears were in the way? She quickly swiped her eyes, elated for her best friend, even as a stab of longing for her own family pierced her chest. How she missed Uma. Would she ever be able to hug her sister like that again?
Pulling apart at last, Tora and her brother examined each other, wiping away tears and laughing. He cupped his hands around her face in disbelief, while she re
ached up and tucked an unruly tendril of his long hair behind his ear. Their words spilled out in a jubilant rush as they asked each other questions that had been bottled up for seven years. As they gabbled away, the others inside the quarry stood wide-eyed and stock still, some clutching their chests as if they’d received a shock. Usagi and the boys hung back, unable to do anything but smile as they watched their friend’s reunion. Finally, Tora turned and waved up at them. “Get down here! You must meet my brother!”
Usagi swallowed the lump in her throat as she made her way down to Tora, followed closely by Inu and Goru. Her friend had always been stoic about the loss of her family, and never liked to talk about how she’d gotten the scars on her arm. Sometimes Usagi thought it was because Tora had already had some practice at hiding her feelings, for Tora’s mother had died when she was a baby. Even before the war, her friend wouldn’t speak of it. Tora’s insistence on finding her father alive had been the first sign to Usagi of just how deeply Tora missed her family. The fact that one of her brothers had survived both the war and the Eastern Mines was surely a gift from the gods.
They joined Tora at the bottom of the old quarry, and met her brother Imugi and his companions, all former captives forced to work in the Eastern Mines. Usagi noticed that they all had the same scar on their face as the boy who’d been following them, a web of lines enclosed in an oblong shape that, upon closer examination, resembled the official seal on a document. “It’s a brand they gave us,” said Imugi, as Tora delicately touched his cheek. “It’s supposed to make it easier to identify us.”
“And harder to run away,” said Panri, the boy who’d been their spy. “We’ll always be seen as belonging to the mines now.” Panri was a year younger than Inu, born in the year of the Boar. He pulled up his tunic to show his torso, which was covered in bristly hair. “A Guard shot at me once and the bullet just glanced off. I’ve got a pretty thick hide. But it doesn’t extend to my face and neck, unfortunately.” He grimaced, twisting the scar on his cheek.
