Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa: Kamigawa Cycle, Book II

by Scott McGough

  Pearl-Ear dropped to one knee. “You may do both, Headmaster. We are not asking you to betray Konda but to confide in us. This is a place of learning, sir, not a training camp. Help us resolve the spiritual conflict, and you can return to mentoring gifted sculptors and magical prodigies.”

  Hisoka’s eyes were anguished, but his face hung slack like all the muscles had been cut. He looked at Pearl-Ear, then at Sharp-Ear, and he leaned heavily on his desk.

  “I cannot help you,” he said. “We are willing to begin a more regular exchange between the academy and the kitsune nation. Your knowledge of spiritual magic would make you excellent instructors. We would be proud to enroll your children in whatever course of study appeals to them. And we would love to have your rangers show us the mysteries of Eastern Jukai.

  “But that is all I have to offer you now. Perhaps someday, if the situation changes …”

  “If it does, Headmaster, I fear it will change for the worse,” Pearl-Ear said.

  “Headmaster,” Sharp-Ear said casually. “Why haven’t you asked to see our evidence?”

  The wizard blinked. “What?”

  “We told you we had information that pointed to daimyo Konda. You didn’t even ask to see it, or what it was. That’s strange behavior for an academic.”

  Hisoka rose to his full height and said haughtily, “I am loyal to the daimyo. I would not even entertain the idea—”

  “I saw you there, Headmaster.” Michiko swept forward, pulling her hood back as she came. “On the night I was born. My father did something terrible in the tower of Eiganjo. You were there.”

  Sharp-Ear’s expression did not change, but his ears twitched. Pearl-Ear simply stared, frozen in place, unable to breathe and unwilling to move.

  “Michiko-hime.” Hisoka paled and staggered. He caught the arm of his desk chair and steadied himself. “Go, all of you go. You have no idea how dangerous it is for you here.”

  “No, sir, I will not. My father is lord of the nation, but I speak for her people. I am princess of the realm and I demand that you explain yourself. Whatever you did that night has drawn the wrath of the spirit world down upon my people as well as your students. And you will answer for it, now, and help us to undo what you and my father have done.”

  Hisoka’s face reddened and he began to sputter foamy saliva.

  “You don’t,” he choked. “They watch—not safe—go …”

  Pearl-Ear and Sharp-Ear stepped forward to assist Hisoka. As they took hold of the headmaster’s arms and guided him into his chair, the pressure in the room suddenly dropped.

  “Sister, dear,” Sharp-Ear said. “This is not going well.”

  Pearl-Ear only nodded. She beckoned Michiko and Riko to come behind Hisoka’s heavy desk.

  The girls reacted quickly. At this stage everyone in Kamigawa was familiar with the signs of a spirit manifestation. As the kitsune brought the humans down behind the solid shelter of the desk, the air in the room began to swirl, churning countless pieces of paper from Hisoka’s files like leaves in a cyclone.

  A brilliant arc of light tore through the center of the vortex. It glowed silver-white and thickened, growing wider as each end curled up. The light was almost blinding as the upward curving line parted, revealing a twin row of clean, dazzling teeth.

  The light exploded, and everyone behind the desk squeezed their eyes shut as tightly as possible. It burned past the oaken drawers, past their eyelids, and dazzle-blinded them all. For a few moments, all anyone could do was blink and cling to each other.

  A cheerful, boyish voice said, “There you are, Princess! I had no idea where you’d gone, but I think I know who took you.”

  Pearl-Ear and Sharp-Ear recovered more quickly than the humans. They could make out fuzzy shapes and some colors, but for the most part they could only see the world through a bleached white film.

  “And to think, after I told you specifically not to come here. I may be a little closer to understanding how the daimyo feels. You never do what he tells you, either.”

  Sharp-Ear stepped forward. He was unarmed, but his body was tense.

  “Who are you?” he said.

  The little blue man smiled broadly, his teeth flashing much less violently.

  “I am the Smiling Kami of the Crescent Moon,” he said. “You can call me Mochi.

  “Princess,” he said, hopping up on the desk and bowing to Michiko, “I wanted to spare you this experience. But now you’re here, and you’re asking all the wrong questions. I’m going to have to do something I never wanted to do.”

  Pearl-Ear slid in beside Sharp-Ear, blocking both the girls and Hisoka from the strange chubby figure perched on the desktop.

  Mochi folded his hands behind his back and rocked back on one foot. “You came for answers, didn’t you? Well, Hisoka is not in a position to answer. You can see he’d like to be open with you, his new allies, but he physically can’t answer you, and I can’t let you keep upsetting him in the meantime.

  The blue man lifted his arms. Sharp-Ear and Pearl-Ear both growled.

  “So. I must step in on his behalf. I’m at your service,” the little kami said. “What do you want to know?”

  Chiyo walked unchallenged through the halls of Minamo’s main building. Most soratami were treated deferentially when they deigned to come down to the academy, but Chiyo carried herself even more aloof. She was slight of build, but her face was severe and her eyes fierce. Even other soratami bowed and stepped aside when she walked by.

  Her elevated status was not solely due to her personality. She was one of a small group of soratami prophets, the disciples of Uyo. Under the aegis of the soratami’s greatest seer, these women mastered the advanced techniques of astral and thought projection. Uyo herself was thought to be precognitive, but her followers’ lesser abilities made them elite even among the mightiest soratami warriors or the most learned diplomats.

  She had been monitoring Hisoka’s meeting with the kitsune. As soon as Konda’s name came up, she had mentally contacted Uyo. No response came, so she continued to listen while she waited. When Michiko revealed herself, Chiyo barely had time to register what had happened before she heard Mochi’s jovial voice in her head

  Return to Otawara, the blue kami said. The time has come to launch the armada. I will deal with the princess and her kitsune.

  Can I be of assistance? Chiyo sent back.

  There was a pause. No, Mochi said at last. Telling the simple truth for a change will be refreshingly easy.

  Chiyo turned and quickly headed for the edge of the academy’s floating platform. She had a sharp mind and access to the best information, but even she did not know exactly how Mochi planned to achieve his goals. It was enough for her to be able to use her powers to their fullest and establish Uyo’s sisterhood as the driving force in soratami culture.

  The ground came to an end, and Chiyo paused on the edge overlooking the lake below. She concentrated, and the symbols on her ears started moving so quickly they seemed to vibrate. Chiyo’s mouth moved silently, and she steepled her fingers in front of her chest.

  The air just off the platform began to thicken as a heavy white cloud gathered. This was how the soratami traveled from their city among the clouds to the world of soil and water below. Only they had learned to summon the clouds and stand upon them as if they were solid. They ruthlessly guarded the knowledge of creating and steering these conveyances, crafting them so precisely that they would not carry anyone other than a true-blooded soratami. To any living thing, from a full-sized human to the smallest gnat, the cloud was merely a cloud and could support nothing more substantial than the heart of a raindrop.

  Chiyo stepped onto the billowing white mass. Her feet barely sank into its surface. She willed the cloud to rise, and soon she was floating up past the grand stone spires of the academy, rising high into the evening sky.

  She never looked down when she was making this journey, only up. The sky, the stars, the moon above were infinitely more interesting th
an the tangle of grubby little ants scurrying around on the dirt and the soppy little toads who made their living on the water. Here, high in the sky, she was weightless, she was free, she was ecstatic in the glory of the moon-kissed clouds.

  Above her, Otawara loomed, blotting out more and more of the sky as she approached. Soon the soratami would construct more cloud cities across all Kamigawa, floating chaste and serene over the ashes below. Would there be a city for her to rule? She would not rest until it was so.

  Chiyo guided the cloud up through the thick layer of white that shielded Otawara from prying eyes below. As her eyes rose over the edge of her home, Chiyo smiled warmly, exulting in the grandeur and glory of the soratami’s capital.

  It was a true city, not the overgrown village that sprouted up around the falls below. One could walk along its sapphire-blue streets for days, perhaps weeks without reaching the other side. Brilliant white metal arcs supported the towering steel spires that pierced the night sky overhead. Polished granite domes capped museums and grand meditation cathedrals. Silver wire as fine as spiderwebs was woven into intricate patterns that connected building to building and spire to pavement. Under a full moon, the entire city caught and reflected the light, creating a captivating display of shimmering lights and shadows.

  It was barely dusk now, but in a few hours the spires, domes, and wire would sing and sparkle under the crescent moon. This architectural marvel would fall dark in few more days, mimicking the moon’s own cycle of death, silence, and rebirth. For now, Chiyo simply gazed in satisfaction at the skyline of her home.

  Chiyo stepped onto the pavement. From here, this night, the armies of Otawara would ride out and prepare the world for the eventual soratami ascendancy, clearing the soil below of parasites so that cities in the sky above might thrive on the currents of fresh, clean air.

  The cloud behind her broke up and began to dissipate. She straightened her robe and started toward the eastern quadrant, where the warriors had massed.

  “So this is Otawara,” someone said from behind her. “Nice place. A little gaudy, though.”

  Chiyo’s body went rigid. Slowly, she turned, spinning gracefully in place on the balls of her feet. Her eyes filled with tears of rage, and her face became a mask of fury.

  You’re not supposed to be here, ochimusha.

  Toshi inspected his fingernails. “Yes, I had heard that, but you’d be surprised how many places I can go these days.”

  Chiyo blinked her eyes clear. I will tear your mind out by the roots.

  “Well, that’s up to you. I’d much rather—”

  Toshi rolled aside as Chiyo lunged at him. She had produced a sharp silver spike from within her robes, and it made the air sizzle as it whipped past Toshi’s ear.

  He had his jitte up and ready before she regained her balance. Like a savage, feral cat, Chiyo circled him, her breath hissing through her clenched teeth.

  I will kill you. I will kill you and feed your body to the birds.

  Toshi straightened up, smiling. He spun his jitte around his fingers like a baton.

  “Go ahead,” he said. He spread his arms wide. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Mochi sat cross-legged on the headmaster’s desk. Pearl-Ear, Sharp-Ear, and Riko waited at the far end, with Michiko between them and the kami. Hisoka himself had collapsed in his chair, overwhelmed.

  The chubby blue kami waved his hand toward Hisoka. The white-haired wizard’s eyes fluttered, and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

  “He’s had a long day,” Mochi explained. “I’d prefer to discuss things with you frankly. Hisoka often requires a more … palatable explanation for what he does. With you, I want to speak unfettered.”

  “Speak, then.” Sharp-Ear still regarded the little blue man with extreme suspicion. “Say something of substance.”

  “I shall. What do you want to know?”

  “What did my father do on the night I was born?” Michiko asked.

  The moon kami began to rock softly back and forth, an excited grin on his face.

  “I’ve told you that already, Princess. He cast a spell, took something from the spirit world, and trapped it here. It was a very powerful something, very important. The spirit world would like it back.”

  “Yes, but what is it? If it is a kami, what is it the spirit of? What does it represent? Why is it so important?”

  Mochi sighed sadly. “This is so much more difficult to explain in words. I’d prefer to show you.”

  “Show us how?” asked Sharp-Ear.

  “Visions, my kitsune friend, visions. My smiling eye looks down on half the world at a time, night after night. I have seen things and shown things to my believers a million times over. The moon can make you giddy, the moon can make you lonesome. The moon can make you dream.” He began rocking again. “Just ask Michiko-hime. I have shown her things before, and they proved to be true.”

  Pearl-Ear stepped up beside Michiko. “Princess,” she said. “Are you willing to put yourself in this strange spirit’s hands?”

  Michiko nodded. “I am.”

  “Then we are as well.” She bowed to the little blue figure. “Show us your dream, Mochi. If words will not convey the answer we seek, let your power reveal it to us all.”

  Mochi rocked faster. He opened his eyes wide and flashed his teeth.

  Done.

  Toshi circled right as Chiyo circled left. She had seemed angry the last time he’d surprised her, but that was nothing compared to now. Rage fairly oozed from her pores. She spat it from her lips and exhaled it from her lungs like poison.

  She was fast, too. The jitte was short, hooked, and mostly blunt so it would be effective against bladed weapons.

  Chiyo lunged again, slicing through the outer layer of Toshi’s sleeve. Even with his lifetime of experience, she was getting through his defenses often enough to make him nervous. She was too proud or too angry to call for help, so at least Toshi only had one exalted demigod to deal with.

  He had spotted her outside Hisoka’s chambers and recognized her as one of the soratami who’d attacked him in his own home several months ago. He briefly debated sticking with the kitsune over following the woman, but in the end she seemed most likely to show him something new. He expected the meeting with the headmaster to go on for several hours before they even touched on the important stuff.

  Besides, he’d tried to use the Shadow Gate’s power to visit Otawara once he’d seen it overhead, but he’d been unable to complete the journey. He’d have to go there in person first, and perhaps not even then would it work.

  He’d followed Chiyo in his phantom form and hitched a ride on her cloud ferryboat. It was an odd sensation, a weightless man traveling on an insubstantial platform, but he tended to float anyway in that state, and Chiyo’s cloud propelled him along quite nicely.

  Now he was here, and she seemed to be having some sort of rage-induced seizure. Every step he took infuriated her more, as if the sound of his sandals on the pavement was appalling. If she got any angrier, her head might simply explode, solving his current problem.

  “So,” he said. “What do you do for fun here, anyway? Even Numai has a few decent public houses to pass the time. What’s a lowlife got to do to get a drink in this town?”

  Chiyo screeched, actually screeched like a wounded owl. She sprang at Toshi, hurling her spike at his head with one hand as she drew a second with the other and stabbed for his vitals.

  Her attack was rushed and sloppy for her kind. For a nezumi, it would have been a breathtaking display of grace and power, but Toshi had faced much more dangerous opponents, and recently.

  He ducked under the thrown spike and parried the other with his jitte. He clamped his hand around her tiny wrist and stretched both her arms apart, dragging her forward. His face pressed against Chiyo’s, nose to nose, as her eyes tried to burn him with the power of sheer hatred. She struggled and kicked, but Toshi blocked her foot with his shin and held her fast.

  He winked, drew his head b
ack, and rammed it forward into the bridge of her nose.

  Toshi held onto Chiyo’s hands as the soratami grunted in pain. She tried to throw herself backward, adding her own momentum to Toshi’s blow in the hopes of pulling free, but his grip was too strong. He hauled her to her feet and twisted her wrist until the spike fell from her fingers. Then Toshi stretched her out and butted her again, splattering more thick purplish blood across her delicate features.

  He drove his forehead into her face one last time and drew his short sword as she fell. If she were conscious, she could call for help. If she were conscious, he’d have to kill her right here and now.

  Toshi took one step before Chiyo’s voice ripped through his head like an icy saw.

  HELP ME, MY BROTHERS. OTAWARA IS DEFILED.

  Toshi’s vision fogged, and he staggered to one knee. Chiyo was crawling away from him, her progress slow and painful. She must be tougher than she looked—he wasn’t sure about brawling with moonfolk, but if she’d been human her nose would definitely be broken and both eyes swollen shut. If he could just clear his head, he could toss her over the side and take cover until he figured a way out of here.

  Toshi fell onto his rear. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, the stinging pain still sharp in his head.

  Vague figures rose from the buildings nearby. Toshi counted three, four, more than a half-dozen of them. As they drew closer, he saw tall, thin figures with long, flowing ears and robes flapping in the breeze. They rode atop clouds barely bigger than their feet.

  Chiyo continued to inch away from him. Toshi eyed her and the incoming soratami then scrambled to his feet.

  Time for him to go. Before he did, though, he wanted to leave the citizens of Otawara something to remember him by. After all, he had no idea when he’d be back.

  Toshi fished inside his pack and produced a small red tile. He closed his hand around it, remembering the terrible oni dog Kobo had summoned, the same one pictured on the tile. Toshi opened his hand, placed the tile between his thumb and forefinger, and cracked it in two.