Daughter of Danger

by John C. Wright

  The halfcape likewise was able to change its consistency, becoming either hard and stiff as canvass or soft and smooth as silk depending on how she ran her hand up or down the hem.

  Ami said, “It is some sort of smart material. It changes shape and consistency.”

  The elbow and knees pads, once in place, folded to invisible thinness, but any shock or jar touching the fabric inflated them into existence for the duration of the blow. They protected her joints without limiting their mobility. The plastron was the same way, becoming stiff or soft as needed.

  Elfine said, “Only elfs and twilights know how to make variable substances folded into the mist. No human made this for you.”

  “Was it made for me?”

  Elfine giggled. “Of course! Look at how it fits!”

  The were no ornaments, but there were shoulder clasps to hold the cloak. The collar had a small disk that was a dial. Ami turned it. The suit, plastron, gloves, boots, and all changed color into a broken pattern of brown, gray, and black lines. Another click turned it jet back, darkening even the gold trim on her mask, and changing the boots from a shiny reflective black to a dull charcoal that absorbed all life. A third click made the suit into a pattern of green and black splotches. A fourth click, and the whole turned white. There were other setting beyond this.

  Elfine said, “How pretty!”

  Ami dialed it back to a gray suit with black gloves and boots. “It is camouflage, with settings for urban, jungle, night, and snow. I must have been some sort of soldier.”

  “Or a ninja!”

  “Kunoichi.”

  “Gesundheit!”

  “Girl ninja are called kunoichi, and not many girls in real life are practicing ninja.”

  “You must come from somewhere else, then. Not from real life.”

  8. Arsenal

  The fox-mask had built in wide-spectrum vision goggles in the yellow eyes and breathing filters in the pointed snout. Radio gear was built into the ears. A hinge in the earpiece of the cowl allowed the mask to be flipped back up to the crown of the head so that the chin of the mask was like a visor over her eyes. It could be raised or lowered by a toss of the head.

  The belt clasp her waist tightly, and the leg straps circling her upper thighs held two larger scabbards snugly against her hips.

  The straps held pouches containing throwing stars and barbs. Fanny packs to her left and right held a weighted bolo and a weighted chain, called a kusarifundo.

  The large scabbards contained what turned out to be to folding boomerangs made of a white material—not metal—which Ami did not recognize.

  A scabbard that fit into the small of her back held what seemed to be a folding sword. She saw ribs of the same material lining the inside of the cape.

  “I think these turn into paraglider wings…” said Ami. Her shoulders instinctively remembered the way to shrug to snap the cape into a larger and rigid form. The cape doubled in size and now reached to either side, large enough to brush the sinks and lockers opposite. However, to put the cape back to lie flat, she had to yank on each wing joint with either hand simultaneously, not a move that could be done accidentally in midair. There was an intermediate form the cape could take to act as a shield over either arm and another form where the hem or point could grow hard and sharp as steel, much like an overlarge fighting fan.

  Now Ami spun, as giddy as Elfine, and ended in a lunge with the leading point of the cloak embedded an inch into a white tile of the wall. A flick of the wrist relaxed the tip of the capehem from rigidly steelhard to silky pliancy. She recovered from her lunge, and the cape retracted.

  “Okay,” said Ami. “It’s mine. I am so keeping this!”

  There was a pocket in the cape. Inside, neatly folded, was a silk yukata, a summer kimono, with long drooping sleeves. It was adorned with a pattern of golden moths, mulberry leaves, and red foxes playing with pearls. Folded neatly was a waist cord called a koshihimo as well as toe socks.

  Ami said, “It is missing its obi.”

  She put the kimono on over the catsuit, folded it left and right and tied it in place. The catsuit was so tight that, once she removed the cape, the outer garment could lie smoothly, looking natural.

  Ami said, “Why was I carrying this?”

  Elfine said, “It is your civilian dress. For your secret identity!”

  Ami said, “It would not fool anyone. I’d have to remove the cape, cowl, mask, gloves, and boots, and there would still be a six-foot-tall thirty-pound longbow and a quiver of arrows. Where would I hide them?”

  Elfine said, “You would hide them in the mist. Everything is hidden in the mist. That is how your bow can fold up without losing its shape.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Elfine handed her the longbow. “Unstring it.”

  Ami did so.

  Elfine shouted, “Someone’s coming! Quick! Hide it!”

  No one was coming, but, by the time she realized that fact, the bowstaff had turned into a baton in her hands.

  She did the same instinctive actions again, more slowly. Her thumb found a hidden switch on the shaft. The segments of the bow slid neatly into each other like a telescope even though the wood seemed perfectly solid. Ami now held a baton about the size of her forearm.

  A second twitch of her thumb made the baton telescope out to the size of a longbow again, as if springloaded. Ami spent a moment folding and unfolding the longbow. She found the bow would not fold when strung.

  The neck of the kimono was wide enough in the back to allow her to slide the baton into a pocket running along the spine of her black suit of the exact size to fit it.

  Elfine said, “The quiver is made by mermaids. They know the art of making packages and packs to be bigger on the inside than on the outside. Here, let me.”

  Elfine closed the flap over the arrowcase, folded it again, and then a third time so that the whole thing was now half its height and as thin as a wand, with only the first arrow protruding. Elfine pulled that arrow. A second one clicked into place, offering its fletching. She handed the arrow and quiver to Ami. “It unfolds the same way.”

  “How is that possible?” said Ami, eye goggling.

  “It works by elf geometry.”

  “But… how?”

  Elfine said, “You were raised by humans, or some part of elfland very far from the sea, if you’ve never seen a mermaid folding a poke before. The extra volume goes in the same direction ghosts go—the direction our eyes don’t see—into the mist. The light you shined from your finger will make it come undone, so be careful. If you shine your ring, your bow will pop out to full length. The sleeves in your kimono are built the same way, and I bet you can put your gloves and belt and other stuff in them without anyone being the wiser.”

  The spine of the catsuit under the kimono had a second sleeve parallel to the first where the folding pouch of arrows could be hidden. Ami could yank an arrow out of her quiver even when the quiver was folded and hidden: but she had to take out the whole quiver and unfold it to full height to put the arrow back.

  The kimono sleeves had hidden pockets of just the right size to hold her fox mask, gloves, boots, and belt.

  Ami said, “What about the cape? Where does it go?”

  Elfine squinted at it. “Does it have another shape?”

  Ami tugged on it one way and then another. It came apart like two magnets being drawn apart and changed into a bright red color. Ami said, “It is the missing obi.”

  Elfine said, “What’s that?”

  “Kimono sash.”

  “Hand it here. I’ll tie it.”

  “You know how?”

  “Sure,” said Elfine. “I have relatives in Japan. Turn around.”

  Ami did. Elfine gave a little shriek and dropped the sash. Ami spun, her hands up, fingers tense, legs bent. “What? What is it?”

  Elfine positioned her in front of the mirror. “Look over your shoulder into the mirror. See that?” Elfine pointed to a large emblem resting across
the shoulders of Ami’s kimono. It was a tawny yellow moth with black wing markings.

  9. The Crest

  “I see it,” said Ami, “What does it mean?”

  “Do you recognize it?”

  “No.”

  But looking at it made her want to stand with her spine straight and her chin up.

  “That is a family crest. Antheraea yamamai. You are a member of the Moth family. You are from the Silkmoths of Japan.”

  “What does that mean?” Ami asked in wonder.

  “It means who you are. Kasumi-Himi no Mikoto is the daughter of Amaterasu of the Sun and the broken saber of Susa-no-O of the Impetuous Storm. She married Bold Moth, the son of Mwynfawr and Palatyne, the Riverwater’s daughter. In older days, Kasumi was called Takiri-hime no Mikoto, Her Augustness Torrent-Mist Princess, and was worshipped as a goddess: but Saint Francis Xavier convinced her to abdicate that title. All the Silkmoths are descended from her.”

  Elfine smiled a warm, bright smile. She added, “There! I have found your kindred! And your name: it is Moth. We are cousins! We are close to cracking the case! And that proves I am sane. Now hold still while I tie your sash.”

  Ami inspected herself carefully in the mirror. “If this is my civilian clothing, where do I live? In a clothing store? No one in Japan dresses this way anymore, except at festivals.”

  Elfine said, “We age more slowly than humans, and our elders last longer. So fashions among us don’t change much. Ready to go?”

  Ami said, “Go where?”

  Elfine said, “Where the next clue leads!”

  Chapter Five: The Eyes of Hungry Ghosts

  1. An Other Exit

  The two girls, carrying a folded flag and an expensive suit of clothing, walked to the elevator, meeting no one.

  Ami said, “First, we have to go make amends to Sharon. Do you have any money?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Gold.”

  “Gold is a fairy metal! When humans trifle with it, it drives them mad. And no, I don’t have any.” Elfine added, “Besides, if we had any money, the coppers would take it from us.”

  “What coppers?”

  At that moment, they reached the ground floor. The elevator doors slid open. Across the lobby could be seen a knot of blue uniforms. Half a dozen police were gathered around the doors to the street, questioning each person who entered or left. They were holding photographs of a young and pretty oriental girl’s face.

  One of the officers, looking up, saw Ami, looked down at the photo in his hand, looked up again, and shouted, “Excuse me, miss! Stop right there!”

  Elfine waved cheerfully while pushing the button to close the doors, calling back, “Thank you, but not right now! We love New York! It’s a wonderful town! The Bronx is up! The Battery’s down!”

  The door slid shut. Elfine pushed the button for the roof. “The copper’s best bet is to put a man in every elevator car, coordinate by radio with someone watching the floor lights, and put a man in the stairwell. If anyone on an upper floor pushes the button for this car, it will stop, and they will catch us. Change into your supersuit.”

  Ami said, “What? Why?”

  “Your civilian garb did not fool them.”

  As they had before, her hands remembered what to do and moved with sure, practiced motions. As rapidly as a fireman getting dressed, she donned the mask, drew the other gear out of her sleeves, draped it over her shoulders, yanked the kimono down to her waist, donned the belt, removed the sash, changed it into a cloak with a snap of her wrists, folded the kimono inside, and clipped it to her shoulder clasps.

  “Don’t put on your gloves yet!”

  “What is it?” said Ami.

  “Hand me your ring first.”

  She did. The gloves and boots were rolled and loose, easy to don in a moment and easy to unroll up her limbs. Once in position, they connected to clasps at shoulder and thigh and tightened as if of their own accord. The last step was to tighten the belt and leg straps.

  Ami said, “Now what?”

  Elfine took her left hand and slid the ring over Ami’s middle finger. “It won’t fit.” Ami said. “With the added thickness of the glove…”

  It slid easily and painlessly over her knuckle despite the extra layer of glove-material covering it. “This is a famous magic ring, made by Ivald. A magic ring is always the size it needs to be.”

  “Why couldn’t I take it off last night?”

  “Who can say? Maybe the ring knew you did not need to take it off.”

  Elfine peered at the elevator button panel, pouting. “There should be a… hmm… maybe this one.” She opened a red panel labeled DO NOT OPEN and pushed the button inside. The car jerked to a stop, and bells started ringing.

  Elfine dwindled to a size smaller than any Ami had seen previously, smaller than a speck, and flew straight up, a darting pinpoint of light. She slipped between two ceiling tiles and vanished. A moment later, one of the ceiling tiles was yanked up and open with a bang as Elfine opened the trap door in the ceiling of the elevator car.

  “Come on up!”

  2. Up the Wire

  Ami twisted her ring to pewter, drew her wirepoon gun, fitted the grapnel to it, and affixed the carabiner of the line dangling from the pistol butt to a connector on her belt. When the connector was engaged, her suit changed of its own accord once more and formed parachute harness of padded fibers just below its surface. She fiddled with the magnification and night-vision settings on her mask’s goggles for a moment, selected a metal I-beam far up the shaft as her target, and shot.

  The hook clung solidly. She was much lighter than the spool engine was designed to haul, so she shot up out of the elevator like a cork from a champagne bottle. Ami kept her wits and kicked obliquely against the walls of the shaft to prevent herself from slamming into any. A thumb switch on the wirepoon gun, when she pushed it, made the grappling hook pop open like a broken umbrella and release its grip. The motor yanked the grapnel back into the barrel, cocked and ready for the next shot.

  She flew up the shaft, calmly unturned the ring to regain mass, and slowed immediately. At the zenith of her rise, during the moment when she was weightless, she twisted the ring again.

  She worked the clutch of the auto-spool in her wirepoon gun and changed to a different gear. Then, she shot the grapnel again and pulled herself at a gentler rate of speed up the shaft to another crossbeam, where she perched.

  Her suit was not done surprising her: a quick-draw wrist sheath unfolded from her wrist. The wirepoon gun not only could be fitted in place there, but the whole sheath folded against her glove until it was as thin as a playing card. Tensing the muscles of her wrist made the sheath pop back into existence and shove the wirepoon gun into her palm.

  She spent a moment flicking the gun into her palm out of nowhere, pushing it back into the holster, shutting it, and doing it again. Where the mass and volume of the gun went when the holster was shut, Ami could only wonder. “Elf geometry,” she muttered. But her eyes glittered with pride and awe.

  Elfine grew from mote sized to doll sized and landed on Ami’s shoulder.

  Ami said, “I love this suit! It had better really be mine!”

  “Why did you stop? We are going all the way to the roof!”

  This time, Ami twisted the ring a quarter turn, so she was a fourth her normal weight, and made sure the spool engine in her wirepoon-gun was adjusted accordingly. She went up ten and twelve stories at a time and found herself among the elevator machinery.

  There was a crawlspace for the mechanic to oil and repair the machinery. The tiny metal door was locked, but now Ami slid a corner of her folded cape into the crack between the frame and the hatch and made the cloak go stiff. The pressure popped the latch free. Ami kicked open the door, slid through the opening, rolled, and came to her feet in a low-ceilinged, dark utility room with a concrete floor. A set of green metal stairs to her left led up to a door to the roof. The interior was crowded with machinery and a wo
rkbench.

  Through the narrow openings of windows yellow with dust, Ami could see the sun near the horizon.

  3. Losing Track

  Ami pushed her mask back on her head and rubbed her eyes. “I must have lost track of time,” she mused.

  But it had been late afternoon before she woke, and Elfine’s quizzing had taken at least an hour, and the walk here had taken longer. How much time had passed since then? She had spent at least twenty minutes merely loitering in the waiting room to speak to the reception nurse.

  Elfine said, “Time in the mortal world is cruel and disobedient and always goes at the same rate, terrible as the drumbeat of a dirge. In our home, the happier hours linger and perhaps return. For us, the seasons dance, and time steps lightly.”

  Ami said, “If we leave from the roof during daylight, we will be seen.”

  Elfine said, “Why? The Ring of Mists is on your finger. It is one of the Thirteen Treasures of Lyonesse. You can walk unseen of men, and, if you go deeper in the mist than is wise, you can walk through walls like a ghost. It once belonged to Eluned the Fortunate before his untimely fate.”

  “Why? What happened to him?”

  “He used the ring to escape the dungeon of the giant Ysbadden, and when walking through a wall, accidentally fell through the floor, the ground, the earth, and the roof of the underworld. He was dragged away, screaming, by many unseen hands.”

  “Then why was he called fortunate?”

  Elfine pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I am not sure why. He did own a famous magic ring! Not everyone can say that.”

  “Now, about this ring. Why do you think…”

  “…Except Gyges, Angelica, Brunello, Bradamant, and Melissa.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Not everyone can say he owns a famous magic ring! Except for them, of course. Gyges of Lydia owned it before Eluned, and Angelica of Cathay owned it after.”