He lifted the bloody tantō from the floor. Cut the woman’s bonds. Handed over her son. And as she crawled back into the corner, clutching the wailing babe tight to her breast, teeth barred and fierce as tigers, he felt something unwind inside him. Something release.
“Figure he might come stalking for me one day.” He pointed to the boy. “Figure I’d probably deserve it. Just like your man deserved it.” A shrug. “Assuming any of this is still here, I mean. Can’t say as I’d pitch blame at either of you for that.”
Yoshi walked toward the door, boots squeaking in the gore. The woman stared, saying nothing, pressing her son to her cheek.
“But I’m hoping you’ll help him choose better,” Yoshi said. “Better than I did, anyway.”
He stopped at the threshold, not looking back. The rats left the cooling meat untouched, turned and flowed out the door like blackened surf.
“No hero, me.”
And soon, there was nothing to mark their passing but bloody footprints on the floor.
28
SIGIL
Akihito beat one massive fist on his breastplate, shrugged expansively to test the fit. A stocky Kitsune blacksmith watched him, face covered by a breather of dirty brass. The forges inside Five Flowers Palace had been burning twenty-four hours a day since news of the gaijin landing at Kawa, and the master and his dozen apprentices were run off their feet.
“Fits good,” Akihito nodded, thumping the iron again. “Nice work.”
“From a Phoenix, I take that as high praise.” The blacksmith bowed low. “But with your pardon, I have about a thousand more to make…”
The man trudged back into the steam and coalsmoke, barking orders at three apprentices working the smelter. Akihito flexed again, unused to the weight. He limped from the smithy, leaning on his studded warclub, surveying the muddy courtyard. Samurai shouting orders, bushimen running training drills, boys carrying weaponry. Hammers on anvils, the hiss of hot steel tempered in greasy river water, Michi’s voice rising above it all.
“Akihito!”
The big man turned, saw the girl pushing through the mob. Hair tied in a long braid, chaindaishō strapped to her back, a hundred hungry warriors watching her pass.
“Akihito!” She caught his arm, breathless.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Hana.”
“What about her?”
“She’s gone.”
“Gone?” Whispering fear uncurling in his gut. “Gone where?”
“She and Kaiah flew out early this morning. A guard said they headed east.”
“East?” The whisper became a shout, cold as winter winds. “Toward the gaijin?”
Michi nodded. “And she took Piotr with her.”
*
Kaiah had been named for the clouds, but in truth, she flew like the wind. Hana was hunched against her spine, face swathed in scarves, three cloaks pulled tight about her. Growling chill chewed any exposed skin red raw in seconds, and the girl thanked Lord Izanagi for the goggles over her face—without them she was certain her eye would have frozen solid.
Piotr was huddled against Hana’s back, doing his best not to touch her, clinging to the thunder tiger’s hindquarters with his thighs. Every now and then, Kaiah would bank or dive sharply, and Piotr would be forced to grab Hana for balance, apologizing profusely in his broken Shiman. Hana would smile at Kaiah’s laughter in her head.
You shouldn’t tease him.
- WHY NOT? -
He’s obviously terrified of touching me.
- WOULD BE WISER TO FEAR RETURNING TO THE PEOPLE HE BETRAYED, I THINK. -
“Won’t the gaijin punish you for deserting the lightning farm?” Hana spoke over her shoulder, shouting above the wind. “Won’t they be angry with you?”
“I promise.” Piotr was shivering, teeth chattering. “Blood promise. Find his love. Bring her word. Takeo.”
“The Guildsman who saved your life?”
“Da. In Morcheba, promising is most important thing. Blood promise mostly of all. Is the one that holds together many. Like black between brick, da? Is word. They know. My word. Must be for the holding. Must be for the true or else for the nothing. Blood in blood.”
Gods above. I can only understand every second word he says …
- AND HE WILL BE TRANSLATING FOR YOU? -
Let’s hope.
- LET’S PRAY. -
Hana pushed a smile into the thunder tiger’s mind, felt warmth radiating in return. She rested her cheek against the sleek feathers at the arashitora’s neck, watching the smooth movements of her wings from the corner of her eye. A perfect motion, precise and beautiful—a poetry of feather and bone and flesh.
I’m glad you’re with me, Kaiah. I’m really glad you’re here.
Howling stormsong filled the leaden pause.
… Although part of me thinks you should be with Yukiko and— - SPEAK NOT HIS NAME. -
A flare of aggression in the arashitora’s mind, turning warmth to bright heat.
I know you have your differences. But you know he’s trying to do what’s right, don’t you? He and Yukiko are doing what they think is best.
- I LOST EVERYTHING BECAUSE OF HIM. MY MATE. MY CHILDREN. -