by J D Astra
She was expecting us to help her and the other splinter cell member to bring Dokun to power by executing King Hisachi. I would have to use vague terms, like “leader” or “ruler.” Dokun was both of those things in my mind, and I could get away with those little, truthful lies.
I grabbed my Moon Shadow robe and dressed quietly, then stepped out of the room. The halls were dark save for a soft glow lining the floor next to the walls. It was just luminous enough for me to see where I was stepping. I didn’t have the energy to waste on using the fūdō with all the traps I could encounter, so I opted for the stairs while I squeezed the very last bits of energy through my first level band for zo and ry.
No one intercepted me on the way out, and the massive front door was left unlocked—at least from the inside. The night air was cold and moist against my face. When I exhaled, a puff of crystalized breath carried away on the breeze. I stared out at the grounds for a moment, my fear-fogged mind struggling to process everything we’d seen.
‘What if that man next to Dokun was trying to help him find the one on the train? What if Dokun was angry he hadn’t found him yet?’
“I don’t know,” Mae whispered.
‘He sent an entire army of Enjiho to take us down, though... That’s a bit suspicious, isn’t it?’
“It is,” she affirmed, then lit up my vision with a blue arrow. “Thespra’s likely landing zone marked. It’s getting gustier, so I might even make it into the grounds.”
I took off at a jog in the direction she’d pointed. ‘What did you get from that Anglish on the screen?’
She giggled. “English, Jiyong.” She paused, then returned with a serious tone. “It seemed to be a list of terror attacks. I documented the dates and locations—but there was a troubling line I caught just before he switched the display. Its date was set in the future.”
Disappointment bloomed in me. Half of me had hoped Dokun wasn’t a bad man. He’d been so kind and done so much for Kokyu. He’d wanted to do more for me and my family, but his guilt had kept him away.
‘What was the date?’ I turned my attention to the underbrush as I reached the tree line. I waved my hand over the tree with fingers spread, dropping ry like sparkling purple diamonds over the plants. The spell burst and faded as it touched the plants and dirt, but no glow remained. It was likely clear to pass.
“It’s twenty days from now, and the location said Kobayashi Performance Hall. I wasn’t able to get too much out of the computer before his AI defenses activated, but there were other lines—I’m assuming locations—set with the same date and time as Kobayashi. The lines with dates in the past had an... incriminating hash associated with them, which read simply: executed.”
I took a calming breath, trying not to overanalyze the information. ‘How certain are you now that Dokun is behind these terror attacks?’
“Ninety-six percent. I didn’t find any type of probability analysis associated with the dates set in the future, which means he wasn’t predicting them.”
‘And if he’s not predicting them, but has such detailed documents on the attacks...’ I didn’t have to finish it to know what this all meant. Dokun wanted to ban fifth-level munje users—make everyone register their progress and be examined. He wanted to make it illegal to become as powerful as he was, and he was using these attacks to advance that agenda. He was using the Ribatasan to fuel public ire towards King Hisachi, and using powerful mercenaries on the side to imbed fear of misuse of power. He created the Enjiho and employed the elderly and disabled, he funded free public transportation, and I was sure there was so much more that he’d done—but all for his true end goal: domination.
He was working the country from several different angles and knew exactly what he was doing. And here we were, in the final stretch of his campaign for power, fighting against ten years of his careful guidance. If we harmed him, the people of Kokyu would turn against us.
I felt as though I was on the edge of a precipice with a pool of monsters below. On my ledge, safe and terrified, I could watch the chaos below without being affected by it—until the monsters learned to climb, of course. Ena would push me over that edge, or I could step off willingly with my own plan.
I moved through the forest, pushing aside branches and avoided hanging chimes. Thespra was within a kilometer, and I could feel the pull of my munje in her. I reached out, sensing her weary little body. Mae had told me machina didn’t become weary, but I could feel it in the bot. The joints in her slender legs trembled from lack of fuel. The cold battered her with every burst of wind, constricting her movement.
“The machina does not have a mind of its own and doesn’t feel these things. You feel them,” Mae reminded me once more.
I tutted. ‘Just like there’s no Jigu or Nalkas, right?’
Mae’s likeness appeared in my vision, rolling her eyes.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I whispered with a smirk.
It was nice to have a distraction from the harsh reality of what we were up against. I focused on making my way and stopped to search for traps again. My ry dissipated without a trace, indicating it was safe. Maybe Ko-nah was wrong.
The counter in my vision for Thespra’s distance dropped meter by meter as she descended closer. The foliage was too dense to see her, but I could sense her and the depleted munje. I recycled the zo from my reservoir into ma, preparing to retrieve her from whatever tree she crash-landed into.
“I’m not going to crash,” Mae said, flustered. “I’m going to set her down nice and easy.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said with a grin. She was being overconfident.
“Wonder where I learned that?” she asked, sarcastically.
I blew a raspberry. “Please, who thought they could manipulate my zo so I could fight better?”
“All right. Let me concentrate or I will crash.”
I rocked back on my heels, silently enjoying my victory. The counter slowly hit twenty meters, nineteen, eighteen—then plummeted. At ten meters I heard a rustle-clank-clank in the tree above as the branches trembled.
“Oops...” Mae whispered with a sensation like a cringe.
I shook my head, then released the newly refurbished ma up into the branches. I closed my eyes and reached out for the slender body of Thespra. I stretched, like grabbing at something a little too far overhead, then found her. My ma latched onto her chilled frame, and I set about climbing down.
I knelt and helped unhook her parachute, then opened my sleeve to receive her. The bot twisted and folded until she was compact, then slipped up my sleeve. Chills ran over my skin where her freezing metal touched, but I suppressed the shiver.
Footsteps crunched on dry pine needles behind me, and my heart leapt into my throat. I twisted and contorted Thespra, getting her into shape to lie flat against my back. I winced as her diamond claws dug into my skin, anchoring her in place against my spine and across my shoulder blades.
“Who’s there?” I called to the darkness.
“I was about to ask the same,” Ena replied.
The bushes rustled and parted, revealing the Grandmaster flanked by two burly enforcers. She looked at me with a judgmental smile for what felt like hours. I shriveled under her gaze and bowed my head.
“I couldn’t sleep, Grandmaster.”
She hummed. “So, you came out here to do what exactly?”
“I wanted to walk to clear my head. There’s a forest like this on the grounds of Bastion, and it calmed my nerves to be among the tall trees after how long I’d spent at the arborum.” She scowled at the word, and I amended to use the Kokyugo equivalent.
“I see,” she finally said. “Well, if you’re awake now, you can answer questions now. Come along.” She turned back for the school.
“But my instructors,” I stammered, my fear waking up at the thought of being alone with her with no real plan. What I’d discovered tonight would be incriminating enough for her to execute me—if Dokun willed it. How could I hide this?
She l
ooked at me over her shoulder, a menacing glare narrowing her gaze. “Is there a problem?”
I bowed lower. “Just that my instructors may want to explain the plan. I am but a student—”
She whirled on me, moving faster than I could see. “And you’re the poor sap who will be carrying it out, are you not?”
“Carrying what out?” I asked, pretending not to understand the implication.
She cooed as one would to an idiot child. “Oh, you really have been left in the dark. That’s why your lie lines didn’t fluctuate; you didn’t even know enough to tell one.”
I looked down sheepishly, trying to force a blush into my cheeks. I wasn’t going to fight her assumption. The less informed she thought I was, the easier it would be to skirt the truth. Maybe we weren’t in as much trouble as I thought.
She smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “You still have plenty to tell about the attempted abduction. Shall we?”
Chapter 30
ENA PACED ON HER DAIS. “And he wanted to train you to assassinate Yamamotto-sama?”
I stifled my yawn and reached for the teacup. Zigzags of green sprawled out in front of me. “Yes.”
“Tell me again how you escaped,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I threw hot water in his face to distract him, then ran to the hatch, opened it, and swam to the surface.” The lines below me didn’t fluctuate as I told the carefully crafted and condensed truth.
“Hot water from...”
“He used it to make tea.”
Her brow furrowed. I could see her eyes flickering to the spot at my feet, watching for inconsistencies in the floor, and listening for them in my story. I’d given her the same account over and over, skipping all the details of how I opened the hatch or threw water in Hiro’s face. My body was beyond exhausted, but I kept my wits, ensuring there were no chinks in the chain of events.
Sun rays peeked through tiny slits of the blacked-out window behind Ena’s wall of screens. Breakfast had to be underway by now. I wondered if Hana worried for me.
There was a knock—more like a bang—at the door and I jumped. One of Ena’s muscly escorts pulled it open. The door flung wide, tossing Ena’s man to the ground. Woong-ji strode through, her metal foot clanking against the wood. She was followed closely by a visibly perturbed Sung-ku, which was well out of the ordinary.
Woong-ji stopped short of the spell-infused floor. “You took my ward without informing me. That is against our agreement.”
Ena smiled curtly and sat on her elevated platform. “He was meandering the grounds. I simply invited him in for tea.”
“And have since held him for nearly four hours!” Woong-ji yelled.
Ena smiled still, but her eyes burned with fiery hate. “You will address me as Grandmaster and show the proper respect.” She cast her arm out and red munje shot from her finger. The magic curled around Woong-ji, dropping her to hands and knees.
All at once, the room tensed. I jumped to my feet, and Sung-ki surged forward, a hand at his belt. Ena raised her other arm, pointing a deadly finger at Sung-ki. Ena’s guards assumed defensive stances, flanking their Grandmaster.
“Stop,” Woong-ji hissed through clenched teeth.
I looked at the cruel Grandmaster, heat boiling in my empty stomach. Even if I’d wanted to stop her, I had no energy and no munje. I was as useless as a newborn pup, which only enraged me further.
Ena grinned, pleased with her own monstrous nature. She released the spell’s hold on Woong-ji. “Don’t make me teach you again.”
One of the guards moved to the wide-open door and slipped it closed. Had anyone been in the hall to notice this? I wouldn’t doubt Ko-nah could’ve been slinking around out there somewhere.
“Now that your instructors are here, we can discuss the plan,” Ena said, her voice light and friendly. “Please, come and sit.”
Woong-ji glowered up at her. “Yes, Grandmaster.”
“So,” she said, folding her hands neatly. “Tell me everything.”
“Are you sure you want to know everything, Grandmaster?” I asked, earning a stern glare from Woong-ji. I went on. “Stronger people than you can break your mind if something goes wrong—if we fail.”
Ena’s lip curled back, but then she wrinkled her nose and smirked. “Not so confident in your plan, then?”
Woong-ji tried to speak, but I cut her off. “I’m sure Ko-nah was confident in his plan last year, as was Hiro when he thought he could abduct me. You see where confidence got them. We’re being cautious. Failure is a real possibility we must plan for.”
The words hung on the air. I could tell by the way she watched me with narrowed eyes that Ena didn’t like the idea of failure. But she liked the idea of being caught full-knowledge of the plan in the midst of a failed coup even less.
“We are taking the necessary precautions to safeguard your—and your benefactor’s—lives. We know what’s at stake,” Sung-ki said, carefully.
Woong-ji picked up the conversation. “We don’t want them compromised for future attempts. This is but one plan that may not work.”
Ena laughed a high-pitched cackle. “And you’re what, our fuhyō? This isn’t a game of Shōgi.” Her face went stern, and she looked at me.
“That’s Japanese chess, and fuhyō is the pawn piece,” Mae whispered.
I’d learned a little about chess from her, even played a few games in our head together. I wondered if the Japanese variant was similar, and if I could use this to persuade Ena. “You don’t want your king in a compromised position, do you?”
The same wild anger returned to Ena’s face with a smile. She descended her dais and stood much too close. “You’re bold. I commend that.” She looked me up and down, stewing on my words. “I thought it was a bad idea to get you involved, but perhaps he was right. Fine. I don’t need the details. But I trust we’re aligned on the goal?”
I couldn’t say yes because it was a lie. She’d see it easily, and this whole façade would be over. I looked to Woong-ji. Her body was tense, ready to fight. There was no running from this for any of us.
“We’re going to end the reign of terror in Kokyu,” I said, oozing confidence I didn’t feel.
Ena’s eyebrow shot up to a point. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it. I trust you were able to get all your necessary tools?”
Whether it was sleep-deprived madness or that faked confidence, I didn’t know, but a plan was coming together. “Not yet. The port restrictions impinged important materials I needed. Access to the school’s spare machina—and indiscriminate use of it—will make up for that.” The lines below my feet wiggled gently, then calmed. It wasn’t a lie if I stuck to the right truth in my head, but it was still nerve-wracking to say it.
She glanced down, then back at me.
I shrugged. “Or I could proceed ahead with what I have, but it would hurt our chances of success.”
Another knock on the door roused a snarl from Ena and a jump from me.
“What is it?” she demanded loudly.
I heard the door swing open, and Ena’s face shifted from anger to surprise and finally settled on crooning subservience. “Yamamotto-sama. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”
Fear spiraled through my mind and squiggled the lines at my feet. I took a deep breath and turned, then took several steps back until I departed the spell writ floor to the shoe-cubby entrance. I bowed to him and he smiled, then patted me on the arm.
His hand lingered on my shoulder with a squeeze before he looked to Ena. “I wanted to come personally invite the students of Moon Shadow and Bastion to join me at the Welcoming of Winter. I’ve reserved most of the Kobayashi Performance Hall just for the event.”
My heart raced, and sweat accumulated in my palms, but I pulled on an excited smile. “Is that like the Winter Festival we have in Busa-nan?”
He chuckled. “Yes, but a less commercial affair. Many of the performance halls around Kokyu will set the stage for
their best dancers to give tribute to Jigu and the changing of the season in a ry display unlike any other. I heard some of the students from Silver Dragonfly will be performing with the Silken Geiko—Kokyu’s best school.”
“I know someone in that school,” I said with a grin, though fear coursed through me.
He nodded. “After the dance we could gather the performers and students at my private estate for a feast. I thought perhaps this would make up for the blunder at the luau...”
I pinched my brow in sympathy, keeping my breathing steady. “You’re not responsible for that, jobu-ke.”
Ena stepped forward and bowed to Dokun. “This is a wonderful offer. Of course, it is up to the Bastion instructors since this would be an interruption in their students’ learning schedule.”
Sung-ki nodded his head. “I think we would deprive our students of a valuable cultural experience if we declined.”
I looked to Woong-ji, still smiling. “Master?”
“Sung-ki is right, of course. No surprises this time, Yamamotto-san?” Woong-ji asked.
“Only if you’re planning them,” he fired back, the threat masked by a friendly chuckle.
Ena clapped. “Perfect. We eagerly await more information from you on the performance.” She leaned forward. “And we’re just getting all the other details squared away now.”
Dokun looked at her curiously, but ignored the statement, returning his attention to me. He squeezed my shoulder again. “Maybe we can turn this trip around for you.”
“I’d like that very much,” I said, bowing low and escaping his grip. The cold spot left on my shoulder where is hand once was spread down my spine in a chill.
Dokun gave a gentle dip of his head to me in return. “Very good. I’ll send word soon.”
With that, he turned and left just as quickly as he’d come. The Enjiho closed the door behind him, and the room went quiet. Ena looked at me, taking two deliberately menacing steps forward.
