Treasures of the Twelve

by Cindy Lin

  At Ji’s look of panic, Usagi elbowed Goru.

  “Never mind what Ox Boy says.” Yunja chuckled. “Your birds know how to take care of themselves. Let them go.”

  With a kiss on their snowy-white heads, Ji threw each one into the air, where they flapped until they were high overhead. “Be careful!” she called. The gulls circled once, dipping their wings as they soared, then flew off. Saru wrote up another message to the Dunelings of the Dancing Dunes. Ji sent it off with a forest angel, the multicolored bird ascending into the sky like a flying rainbow.

  Nezu flashed a grin. “Now come on. We’ve got some Treasures to go after.”

  Chapter 20

  The Bug Pit

  USAGI SQUIRMED, TRYING IN VAIN to readjust her heavy suit of Dragonstriker armor. She gave up and hurried after Goru, disguised as the biggest roach of them all. The Ox Heir had created Striker armor with the Conjurer for each of them. Every step sent the lacquered leather plates clacking, and while the rattling had ceased to unnerve Usagi, it was still annoying. The worst part was the helmet, which sat so low on her forehead that she had to tilt her chin to get a good look at anything. But at least the Heirs could move through Dragon City undisturbed. People dodged out of their path as they strode through the streets of the capital.

  More than a year and a half had passed since they’d last been here. In the dead of winter, drifts of snow edged the broad streets, pushed there by street sweepers clearing the marble paving stones. Trampled by crowds of people bundled up against the chill, the dirty gray piles were turning to slush in the midday sun. Vendors selling roasted sweet potatoes or sacks of warm chestnuts crouched by iron braziers filled with glowing coals and poked at their wares as the food heated on the hot metal. It smelled deliciously welcoming. But the ubiquitous tributes to the Dragonlord weren’t. Dour portraits of Lord Druk scowled from windows, and his dragon crest was emblazoned on passing carts. Bronze statues stood watch over market squares and street corners. Here, the Blue Dragon was impossible to forget.

  With a shiver, Usagi tightened her grip on the firecannon over her shoulder—her walking stick transformed by the Conjurer that morning, with her pack disguised as an ammunition bag. They had to complete their mission before the next morning, when the changes brought about by the hammer would disappear. The crowds parted as they walked by, looking at them uneasily. A group of Guard saluted as they passed. Saru saluted back, and Usagi and the others followed suit.

  “Stay together, everyone,” Inu muttered. They were approaching a watchtower, spilling patrols of Guard into the streets. A tall structure with many stories and tiers of curving tiled roofs, the Guard station had once been part of a shrine to the Twelve. As various patrols spotted the Heirs, clad in elite Striker gear and equipped with superior weapons, some Guard nodded and saluted, and others stared with bemused expressions. Usagi could hear them murmuring to each other.

  “Will you look at the small one!”

  “I didn’t know Strikers came in pocket sizes.”

  “Har har har! Must be one of the Dragonlord’s little freaklings that’s been promoted. I don’t understand how younglings can possibly be of any use to him, demon powers or not.”

  “They’re talking about us,” warned Usagi. “Just ignore them, whatever they do.”

  “Oi, little Dragonstriker!” teased a Guard as they passed. “Are you off to fight some freaks like you? Or heading back to the palace to Lord Druk’s zoo?” He marched alongside Rana, chuckling. “So, a girl’s one of the best, eh? Don’t mess with her!”

  Rana pursed her lips. Before Usagi or anyone else had time to blink, Rana turned and spat in the Guard’s face. He began to scream and clawed at his eyes. “It burns! She’s a demon! For the love of all gods, help me!”

  Without saying a word, Rana spun on her heel and marched on. Usagi glanced back and saw the other Guards looking at them fearfully, while the one with spit in his eye had fallen and was rolling around.

  “Spirits, Rana—you shouldn’t have done that!” Usagi hissed.

  Rana raised her chin, smiling slightly. “Maybe—but that felt good. Besides, it won’t blind him forever. He really should rinse his eyes though, if he’s smart.”

  “Obviously he’s not, or he wouldn’t have bothered us to begin with.” Tora snickered.

  The Rat Heir turned and flashed a grin. “At least they know not to underestimate you. We can’t all be Goru’s size.”

  “Just be careful,” Usagi grumbled. Couldn’t they see? The last thing they needed was to raise the ire of Guards before they even got to the palace.

  They moved on through the streets easily, their helmets obscuring their faces, and the armor deflecting any questions. By late afternoon they’d reached the palace district, where the streets grew narrow and crooked, winding up and about the hills that surrounded the Palace of the Clouds.

  Perched on the tallest hill, the white marble walls of the palace gleamed. Usagi’s stomach twisted in a knot. So much had happened since she’d last been inside those walls, and yet some things were unchanged. Her sister was still there, as were the remaining Treasures. The Tigress was there too. All were within reach, if they could pull off several big tasks by dawn.

  They headed for one of the five smaller Element Gates, having decided against going through the main palace entrance, known as the Gates of Heaven. Though the main gate had more foot traffic that could serve as distraction, there were also more Guard on hand. The smaller gates, used only by workers and troops, would have fewer to contend with. For while their Striker uniforms would help them blend in, Goru’s giant frame was unmistakable, and he’d grown quite a bit since living on Mount Jade. There was no blending in for the Ox Boy.

  But as they drew closer to the Water Gate, which would take them into the eastern side of the Outer Court, Goru broke rank. “Wait—give me a moment.” He ducked into a side alley, squeezing behind a wall of rice-wine barrels.

  “What’s going on?” asked Saru. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine—I just got an idea,” called Goru.

  Usagi and the others exchanged puzzled looks. Then she heard a series of ringing taps. “He’s doing something with the Conjurer.”

  Rolling his eyes, Nezu said, “I think we have enough armor, Ox Boy.”

  “Oh no,” said Goru, so quietly that only Usagi heard it. She felt a stirring of alarm and headed down the alley.

  “What’s wrong, Goru?” Usagi glanced behind at the others, who’d followed, and shook her head. Something was off. The Monkey Heir’s face creased with concern.

  There was a pause. “Uh . . . I thought I might try to disguise myself a little further.” Goru stepped out, and they all gasped. He was no longer giant. He’d taken the Conjurer and wished himself smaller—only he’d gone too far. He was barely the size of Rana, though stockier. His armor and power chain had shrunk along with him, and now the hammer looked quite large in his hand.

  Thunderstruck, they stared at him in silence, unable to say a word. Sheepishly, Goru shuffled his formerly giant feet. “At least no one at the palace will recognize me.”

  “Wh-what . . . ,” Inu spluttered. He towered over Goru now. Grabbing him by the scruff, he examined the tiny Ox Heir from head to toe. “We can’t go in with you like this. Change yourself back!”

  Shaking his head, Goru held up his hands. “I tried, but I only made it worse. Gods, those warnings in our manual were no exaggeration. More power means more problems.”

  “Then give me the Conjurer,” said Inu. “I’ll wish you back.” He reached for the hammer.

  Saru stopped him. “You could make it even worse,” she said. “What if you accidentally wish him into being the size of a watchtower? It’s not worth the risk.” She looked around at everyone sternly. “This is why we’re not supposed to use the hammer to change our bodies.”

  “At least this way we should be able to go through the palace gates without attracting notice,” Usagi pointed out. “He’ll be back to his usual
size tomorrow.”

  “But we could use his usual strength and size today,” Inu said, frowning.

  The Ox Heir looked affronted. “I’m still strong, even if I’m smaller,” he insisted. He turned around and grabbed a full barrel, its rice wine sloshing within. His arms couldn’t fully reach around, but he hefted it easily and then balanced it on his fingers. “See?”

  Nezu flashed a grin. “Well then. The Tigress always said a good warrior can adapt to any situation. Usagi’s got a point. We can get in the palace more easily this way. It might be a blessing. No one who knew you at the Dragon Academy would notice you’re back on the grounds.”

  Both Tora and Rana nodded vigorously, still looking stunned. “That’s for sure,” said Tora, slack-jawed.

  They neared the Water Gate, a portal in the winding marble wall of the palace compound, barely half the size of the Gates of Heaven. The doors were open and manned by only two Guards, one on either side. Saru strode straight past them with a brief salute, and they saluted back as the Heirs passed through the gateway. Usagi kept her chin down and her expression stern, holding her breath till they were well away from the gate.

  “That went better than I expected,” she murmured to Tora. “They didn’t even question us.”

  “Let’s hope our luck holds up,” Tora said.

  They moved across the compound in formation, looking like a squad of Strikers on patrol, acknowledging the salutes of passing Guards with quick nods. Straightaway they proceeded to a part of the grounds abutting both the Central and the Outer Court, not far from the Guard barracks. A squat, round tower stood on a small rise, with long, low buildings bristling from it like spikes.

  “There it is,” said Goru. “The Sunburst.”

  Dark and bleak, the Sunburst hardly matched its name. It was built of bloodred brick, and a stand of wooden pillars stood before the Sunburst like a denuded forest. Many of them were covered in streaks and surrounded by blackened patches of earth. Usagi shuddered as she realized they were whipping posts.

  “We’ll split into teams to search the cell blocks,” said Saru. “Tora, Goru, and Rana—you’ve never spent time with the Tigress, so you’ll need to be paired with someone who knows her and can recognize her right off. Whoever finds the Tigress, get her out of confinement and say you’re bringing her to the Dragonlord on his orders.”

  Nodding, Usagi and the others squared their shoulders and held their weapons at the ready. Her stomach tied up in knots as they approached the doors.

  With a shove, Goru threw open the doors of the squat tower and swaggered in as if he were still a giant. Usagi and the others followed closely. Before them was a group of Guard clustered at an observation station, where they could look down the length of each building from their central vantage point.

  “Rather brilliant design, actually,” whispered Inu. “Fewer Guards are needed to watch over the prisoners when you can see everything at a glance like this.”

  The Guards turned at their entrance and hastily stood at attention. One came forward and saluted. “How may we help you?”

  “The Dragonlord has sent us to do an inspection,” answered Saru crisply. “We are to examine every cell.”

  The Guard looked surprised. He had a large mole just above his left eyebrow, and it skated up his forehead. “Certainly. I can escort you through—”

  “No escorts,” Saru snapped. “We are under strict orders to make sure everything is secure, without you Guards trying to cover up any sloppiness.”

  The mole on the Guard’s forehead dove for his nose. “I assure you, there is no sloppiness here. Not when we are guarding those the Dragonlord has special plans for.”

  “Special plans?” blurted Usagi. “What do you mean by special plans?”

  Mole Face looked at her and his eyes narrowed. In that instant Usagi wished she hadn’t said anything, but she stuck out her chin and stared back, demanding an answer. He hesitated, then shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Some of them end up sentenced to the mines, but some he keeps for a while, and every now and again he pays a visit and takes them to the special room.” He jerked a thumb behind him. “I don’t ask, and I don’t watch when Lord Druk visits. But it doesn’t sound like much of a party.” He sniggered, and the other Guards behind him guffawed.

  “That’s enough,” said Saru sharply. “We’ll take a look for ourselves, thank you.”

  They marched past the observation station, and Saru pointed them down the various cell blocks. There were five long corridors in all. The Monkey Heir paired Goru with Nezu and gestured to Rana. “Come with me.” She turned to Usagi and Tora. “You two inspect this one. That leaves one extra. Whoever finishes their block first, take this center block.”

  Inu saluted and headed off to inspect cells by himself, sniffing for signs of the Tigress. Nezu and Goru started down a block of cells, while Rana followed Saru into another. Usagi stood beside Tora and stared down a long corridor. She glanced at Tora, who nodded grimly. “Here goes.”

  The air in the corridor was foul and musty, rank with the smell of human waste and unwashed bodies. Heavy latticed doors ran the length of the building, cells on either side of the long hall. Across each door hung a rope of iron bells, set to jangle in warning if the doors were ever disturbed. The cells were small and dank, with floors of hard clay brick and a fetid hole in the corner of each cell. The only light filtered through slits in the wall that could hardly be called windows, and from dusty lanterns hanging in the corridor.

  Moving slowly down the line of cells, Usagi and Tora peered into each one. As they clacked up in their Striker armor, listless huddled shapes stirred. Some of the prisoners raised their heads, but they were so thin and ragged that it was hard to say whether they were men or women. The pupils of Tora’s amber eyes grew enormous as they gazed through the dim light for signs of the Tigress. “No, that’s an old man . . . not this one, too young . . . definitely not her, let’s check the next . . . ,” Tora muttered.

  Usagi squinted through the thick wood slats of each door, occasionally making eye contact with haggard-looking prisoners, their faces drawn and despondent. Feeling a strange mixture of sympathy and repulsion, she hurried after Tora. She didn’t know why they were in these cells, but Usagi doubted it was because they were bad people. If only there were a way to free them. She shook the thought from its perch. Focus. First and foremost, they had to find the Tigress.

  As they neared the end of the corridor, the bells hanging from one of the doors began to jingle. The person inside was rattling the door. “Teacher?” Usagi murmured. A spark of hope propelled her to the cell.

  A stringy-haired man pressed his bearded face against the wooden slats of the door. “Let me out!” he roared. “I’m innocent!”

  Recoiling, Tora moved quickly on, while Usagi glanced back and saw the Guards at the observation station staring after them. She turned to the frantic prisoner. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” she said softly. “How long have you been in here?”

  “Fifty-four days,” he replied, and pointed to a set of neat scratches on the wall of his cell. “Fifty-five with the next sunset. And for what? All I did was laugh in the presense of Lord Druk—but I wasn’t laughing at him.” He bellowed it louder. “I wasn’t laughing at him!” He began shaking the door again, the rope of bells jangling against the frame. Usagi worried that the Guards would come down to investigate the disturbance.

  “We’re looking for an old woman. About this tall?” Usagi gestured to her shoulder. “Her hair is white but there’s a black streak in it.”

  The prisoner stopped shaking the door. “Is her face covered in scars?”

  “Yes, that would be who we’re looking for,” said Usagi eagerly.

  The man leered and tucked his long stringy hair behind an ear. “Might have seen her around.”

  “Where?”

  “In the throne room for tea,” he snarled. “The last lot of you dragged her off to the Bug Pit. Don’t you talk to each other?” He shuddered. “
They showed it to me once, and that was enough. Straightaway I sent apologies to the Dragonlord.” He paused and raised his voice. “Even though I never laughed at him!”

  “The Bug Pit—where is it?” Usagi pressed.

  “What do you mean, where? It’s in the next cell block!” His bloodshot eyes focused back on Usagi. “Rather young for a Dragonstriker, aren’t you?”

  Usagi thought quickly. “I just got promoted,” she said. She turned to go, then stopped. “I hope the Dragonlord forgives you and you get out soon.”

  The sneer on the prisoner’s face melted into surprise. “Me too,” he said, and slumped against the heavy latticed door, looking tired.

  Tora reached the end of the corridor and swung back. “The last few were empty. Did you learn anything? Poor man seemed pretty riled up about laughing.”

  “He said the Tigress was taken to the Bug Pit,” said Usagi.

  Frowning, Tora adjusted her Striker helmet. “Where’s that?”

  “In the next block, I think. Let’s find out.” Usagi headed for the Guards at the observation station.

  They got back to the central tower right as the others did, looking grim and disappointed. Saru shook her head, Rana by her side. “All clear in Block Four.”

  “Same in Block One,” said Inu.

  Nezu pulled so hard at the whiskers on his upper lip, Usagi thought they were going to come out. “Block Two clear.”

  “Block Five also clear,” Tora reported.

  Usagi glanced at the Guards, who were watching them with interest. “There was a prisoner at the end of our block,” she said casually. “He was a wreck. Said the last place on earth he wanted to go was the Bug Pit.” She jerked a thumb down the last corridor, the one that they had yet to inspect.

  A knowing look came into Saru’s eyes. “Good.” She turned to Mole Face. “Sounds like you have the prisoners properly cowed. The Dragonlord will be pleased.”

  The head Guard nodded and saluted, puffing out his chest.