She tugged her hand away from me. I let my grip slacken, let her slip away, even though I was Swordbearer and could’ve clung too tight for her to escape. So fragile, my commoner sister. So little, I could do for her.
I broached the subject of a new sibling with Mother.
She laughed. “Rest assured, Yulina, I will not have another child, least of all with that commoner. You are my only child, my only heir.”
“But at night . . . do you not . . .”
“Oh, I am not wearing the komi charm. I don’t need to. Because that one will never make me pregnant. I’ve made sure of it.”
I was almost afraid to ask further. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if I hadn’t. But I was heir to the Marin clan. I wanted to become like my great-grandfather, the Chancellor who crafted the Reunion Treaty. I wanted to become like my grandmother, who’d reclaimed the northern Ancestral Lands. How could I live up to their legacy if I couldn’t face my own mother?
“Mother . . . what did you do?”
It was the wine, of course. Mother had laced it with black yew extract, which slowly crippled virility. Normally the spice of black yew was easily detected, but the aftertaste of hishu covered it up. And my stepfather, commoner as he was, hardly knew how hishu should have tasted anyway.
Mother trusted me to not say a word, and I didn’t betray her trust. Not that time.
When I was thirteen, I defeated Master Ouwi in a match for the first time. Maybe he’d let his guard down. Maybe he’d gone easy on me. Still . . .
The sun sunk below the compound walls. Master Ouwi congratulated me and departed, but I remained in the courtyard, practicing. Waiting for Mother. I wanted a match with her, but she’d gone out that morning and still hadn’t returned.
The wind sent the leaves of the zelkova tree swirling down, and I sliced them with my sword. Sliced the pieces again, before they hit the ground. Mother still did not allow me to touch the Marin sword, but she’d handed me this one, which she had used in her youth.
I lowered my sword and transferred it to my left hand. Stared down at the palm of my right. If only the present me had faced my father that day, I would have defeated him. But then, I would have never met Kaya.
The doors of the compound opened. I looked up and expected to find my father standing in the doorway. Why did I think that? Thirteen was too old for such daydreams.
My stepfather stepped inside—and almost immediately stumbled off the path. The wind blew his scent across the courtyard, but I could tell from his gait alone that he had been drinking.
He froze when he saw me. “You here to kill me?”
I blinked. I’d last seen him that morning, as he left the compound muttering about needing to find an answer. I didn’t know what his question was, but apparently the answer made him return crazy.
Then I realized I had transferred my sword back into my right hand, unthinkingly. Maybe that explained his words.
He threw his head back and laughed. “Kill me then! Kill me, kill me!”
The door of the southern building opened, and Kaya rushed outside. “Father!”
He turned his bloodshot eyes on her. “You!”
Kaya grabbed his arm. “Come in, Father. I—I’ll make some tea for you.”
He shoved her aside so hard she almost fell. I took a step forward.
Kaya met my eyes. She shook her head. “No, Yulina.” She took hold of her father’s arm again, and this time he did not shake her off.
She led him up the veranda and through the sliding doors of the building. I lingered at the bottom of the steps. I hated how my stepfather treated Kaya. And in his current state, I didn’t trust him.
But Kaya had told me not to interfere. I remembered Mother’s words: You cannot force your love upon someone.
I was asleep by the time Mother returned. That did not stop her from lighting a lamp and opening the door to my room.
I woke, caught sight of her face, and relaxed.
“Yulina,” she said, “I’ve been appointed Governor of Dari.”
I took her hand. “That’s . . .” I fumbled for words, speaking nonsense for five seconds. “That’s wonderful! I knew the Emperor would not forget the debt he owes to Grandmother.”
Mother’s lips thinned at the mention of my grandmother. She said, “I want to leave as soon as possible. We cannot let the temporary Governor become too comfortable.”
Three days later, we trundled down Yutai Road, four of us in one carriage.
Mother had wanted a second carriage, but Stepfather had ended that plan. “Do you think my money is limitless?” he’d yelled through a mouthful of rice roll.
In truth, Mother hadn’t even wanted to bring him or Kaya along. But she didn’t want to leave them in the capital either, where she could not keep an eye on them.
In the confined space of the carriage, Mother poured wine for Stepfather and showered him with compliments. It was rather unnerving to hear her speak sweet words, knowing how she spoke about him with me, knowing what she had done.
Kaya and I tried to play Crossed Swords, but the jolting of the carriage kept sending our pieces sliding from the board. Kaya finally swept all the pieces back into the box and snapped it closed with a sigh of frustration. “You always beat me anyway,” she said.
“I’ve been playing longer. You’ll become good if you keep practicing.” I raised the board. “Also, you forgot this.”
She snatched it from me and struggled to pry the box open again. The carriage must have hit a rock at that moment, for the pieces flew out of the box and spilled everywhere.
Mother looked up in the middle of pouring wine. “What are you doing? I thought you were playing Crossed Swords, not skipping stones. Is there anything you do well?”
My stepfather chortled. “Clean it up, Kaya. You’re pretty good at cleaning, aren’t you?”
Kaya knelt on the floor of the carriage, retrieving the pieces. I joined her.
Our eyes met across the gap between benches. “I don’t need your help,” she snapped.
“By the way,” Mother said, “I think one piece flew out the window.”
I rose. I couldn’t stand all the way up; I was now tall enough for my head to hit the ceiling. “It’s the carriage’s fault, not Kaya’s.”
Mother lifted the wine pitcher. “I was pouring wine at that exact moment. I did not spill any.”
“Kaya isn’t Swordbearer. Weren’t you the one who said that? You shouldn’t set such standards for her.”
“Yulina. Please, just stop.”
I looked down to find Kaya with her hands pressed against her ears. “You’re not helping,” she said. “Just, say nothing, okay? And sit down. Please.”
I obeyed, more in shock than anything. Kaya finished gathering the pieces, at least the ones in the carriage. We never found out if Mother was right about one piece flying away, because neither of us played with that set again.
Mother continued fawning on Stepfather and pouring the occasional drink for him. I wondered if her plan was to keep him permanently intoxicated during her tenure as Governor.
Kaya pulled a book from the stack we’d brought. My mouth went dry when I realized it was the book of Northerner legends.
I glanced at her discreetly as she read, trying to think of a diversion before she reached the story about the girl in the dress of ash. But three pages in, Kaya rubbed her head and stowed the book away.
“Not interesting?” I ventured.
“It’s not that. It’s just, reading in this carriage makes me dizzy.”
“Oh. I get it. It’d make me dizzy too.”
“Really?”
“Really. That’s why I’m not reading right now.”
Kaya’s mouth turned in the beginnings of a smile. “Aren’t you Swordbearer
? Aren’t you supposed to be stronger than that?”
I shrugged. “I doubt being unable to read on a carriage will stop me from becoming First Sword.”
The rest of the morning passed without incident. Kaya’s anger toward me cooled as we talked about our favourite stories. I was careful to not mention Way of the Swordbearer, despite having read it more times than I’d read anything else. Whatever misfortune her father’s remarriage had brought her, at least it gave her the opportunity to read all the books in the Marin compound.
Green forests marched past outside the window. Around noon, we turned off Yutai Road.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” Mother said with a smile.
Soon the path grew too narrow for the carriage. We climbed out, my stepfather strapping on his wine jug. Mother bade goodbye to the servants and led the way deeper into the forest.
Kaya and Stepfather clung to each other, looking around anxiously.
I breathed deep, inhaling the scent of earth, and listened. “Water,” I said.
Mother smiled again.
I envisioned Hokina Kura’s map of the Kejalin Empire which I’d studied many times. Estimated how far a carriage could travel in half a day, tried to match that with a spot on the map. “Are we going to the White Jade Falls?”
“Correct,” Mother said.
“I didn’t realize it was so close to Yutai Road.”
“It is. I thought it would be a good place for us to pray, since we are passing by regardless.”
The path straightened and the trees thinned. I caught sight of the Jade River and turbulent falls.
The White Jade Falls resembled a sword: tall, narrow, and blinding in the midday sun. It plunged into a deep pool, and along its shores, white water rushed over stones glazed green by moss. I had seen depictions of waterfalls, even of this one, but the strokes of those paintings resembled torn shreds of old cloth compared to reality. And nothing could bottle the sound, or the misting of water on my skin, even from far away.
I spotted no other visitors on the banks, or on the rocks leading to the top of the plunge. Mother pulled brown packages from her sack and handed one to each of us. “Rice rolls,” she said, before walking closer to the waterfall with Stepfather. Kaya and I lingered by the riverbank, marvelling at the entire scene: falls and river and forest.
“The Battle of Divided Jade took place here.” I raised my voice a little, though thankfully we were not close enough to the falls to warrant shouting. “That’s why Swordbearers visit this place.”
“I do know that much,” Kaya said, but her tone was more playful than annoyed. “It’s one of our great victories.”
“Actually, the Ravagers won the battle. They just lost so many in the process, it damaged them for the war.”
“Huh. Lone Eye described it as a victory.”
“He was writing two hundred years after. Tiga Suwin was at the battle, and he described the Ancients and Swordbearers retreating.” I chuckled. “His account isn’t very popular, since it’s half lost and reads like an ogre’s scribblings compared to Lone Eye. But if you’re interested, I’ll see if I can find a copy in Dari.”
Kaya sat down, feet dangling above the water. I joined her. We unwrapped our rice rolls and bit into them. Beyond today, it would be flatbread and pickled radish, except when we stopped in towns.
“You know, when I first met you, I was surprised you liked reading,” she said.
I huffed. “A Swordbearer should be well versed in all arts. Not just the blade, but words as well. Plus, my father really encouraged the words side, just as my mother valued the blade.”
I rarely spoke about my father to Kaya. Mother wouldn’t be pleased. But she was all the way at the foot of the falls, and the crashing water drowned out our voices.
“Did he teach you to read?” Kaya asked. “No, never mind, you probably had a tutor, like you had Master Ouwi.”
“No, my father taught me. Mother thought he was good enough for that, at least.”
“Ah. I was taught by my mother. I’m not sure how good a job she did.”
“Considering how much you’ve read already, I’m sure she taught you well.”
I felt a gentle weight on my shoulder. Kaya, leaning against me as we watched the falls. Maybe, after four years, she was finally ready to accept me as her sister.
“Yulina!”
I turned at the sound of Mother’s voice, close behind me.
“It’s time for us to go into the White Jade Cave,” Mother shouted.
Kaya and I stood. We followed Mother to the foot of the falls, where Stepfather waited. Here the spraying water became more than a gentle mist, but summer had not yet ended, and I welcomed the scratch of cold fingers against my face.
Mother and I edged as close to the falls as we could. I peered at the curtain of white water, but even my Swordbearer eyes could not see beyond it.
“You can jump directly,” Mother said. “Or you can jump there first, then toward the falls.” She pointed to a large rock protruding from the middle of the river. “It’s your choice.”
“I can jump directly.” I no longer had misgivings about my mastery of lightness. I could leap to the top of the Central Shrine faster than Master Ouwi.
Mother nodded. She didn’t question me, didn’t doubt my ability to evaluate myself. This was what I loved about her.
A small voice said behind us, “Can I come?”
Mother turned. My stepfather clapped a hand over his mouth. Kaya’s face showed immediate regret.
“You, come?” Mother said. “Don’t you know where this is?”
Kaya shrank back. Her voice was barely audible against the crash of water. “It’s the site of the Battle of Divided Jade. That’s why I wanted to come.”
“The cave is sacred. Commoners should not even think of entering. How would you make the jump anyway?”
I stepped between them. “I’ll carry her.”
Mother looked torn between shouting and laughing. “The White Jade Cave was crafted from the bones of the first Swordbearers, who sacrificed themselves upon these waters. A commoner should not step inside.”
“I’m sorry,” Kaya whispered. “I didn’t know.”
“Kaya isn’t a mere commoner,” I said. “Sure, she may not have Swordbearer blood, may not hold the gifts of the Ancients. But she is a daughter of the Marin clan now. Others who married into Swordbearer clans became tutors, palace guards, even Governors. Kaya should have those opportunities too. Wasn’t that the promise you made when you married h—married Father?”
I couldn’t say whose face held the most shock. I had never called my stepfather Father before, always using polite but undescriptive pronouns or refusing to refer to him altogether.
My stepfather recovered first. He seized Kaya’s arm, then spoke in slightly slurred tones. “Sorry for the girl’s ignorance. We’ll wait here.”
“You don’t need to wait.” Mother gestured at the flatter rocks running along the side of the falls, which could serve as stairs. “The White Jade Falls are magnificent, even if you may not enter the cave. Why not climb to the top, for the view there? We’ll find you afterward.”
My stepfather nodded. Kaya mouthed something to me. I thought she said, “It’s all right.”
“Ready?” Mother said.
I wanted to argue further, but if Kaya said it was all right, what could I say? “Ready.”
Mother went first. She barely needed a running start before leaping. Her deep purple robes trailed behind her as she hit the falls, then disappeared.
I took a deep breath. Gave myself a slightly longer running start, just in case. Jumped.
The moment of floating was breathless, exhilarating. No wonder some Northerner writers said we Swordbearers could fly. Th
is was little different. Then I hit the water.
A heartbeat of thunder and cold. Then I burst out from the other side, my knees bending as I hit the wet cave floor. Not quite light as a feather, but close.
Though it had been impossible to see from outside in, the cave was not dark. Some light still reached through the waterfall, and my Swordbearer eyes were already adjusting.
The White Jade Cave was . . . white, as the legends told and as the name indicated. I pressed a hand against the cave wall. It felt more like bone than jade. “Do you think it’s true?” I said. “That the Ancients made these walls from the bones of fallen Swordbearers?”
“Who knows? Some say it’s not just their bones here. It’s their souls too, guarding this river forever instead of moving on.”
“That’s sad. Wouldn’t they be happier in the Reclaimed Realm?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask them.”
Keeping one hand against the wall, I dropped to my knees. Mother did the same. The cave floor was wet, but I was already soaked from the jump, so it made little difference. Closing my eyes, I prayed. Prayed I would become First Sword one day and restore the glory of the Marin clan. Prayed I would make Mother proud. Prayed I could protect Kaya, even if it was from Mother or Stepfather. How, though, when much of the damage was already done?
The voices of my ancestors did not speak to me, no matter how I tried to tease speech from the roar of water. My mind began wandering away from prayer. What was Kaya doing at this moment? Hopefully Stepfather wouldn’t reprimand her too harshly for asking to come to the cave.
A shuffle told me Mother had risen to her feet. I opened my eyes. Faint patterns covered the bone walls, but I couldn’t make out any messages, just lines that resembled rivers.
“It’s time to go,” Mother said.
I stood. “Did our ancestors speak to you?”
Mother marched to the curtain of water without responding.
Leaping out of the cave was harder than in, for I could not see the banks as I jumped. I succeeded, however, landing on a moss-covered rock by the riverbank. We must have prayed for longer than I thought, for the sun had sunk almost to the treetops. Kaya and my stepfather were not at the riverbank.
Seasons Between Us Page 8
