He stood, limped out the door and closed it behind him. The wind howled like a lonely dog, a solitary voice in dark wilderness, dawn a lifetime away.
As the hallway light was shut out, she realized at last that she was alone out here. On an impossible metal island in the middle of vast oceans, surrounded by people who saw her as a spy, an invader, an enemy. She had no idea which way land might lay. Nobody knew she was in trouble, and even if they did, nobody knew where to find her.
No one could help her. No Buruu to fly her to safety. No Kin to build mechanical wings that could see them freed. No Kagé, no father, no friends. She realized if anyone was going to get her out of this, it was her. But if she didn’t do it soon, Buruu was going to starve out there in the storm. Hiro’s wedding would go ahead unopposed, Aisha would be slaved for the sake of his legitimacy, and the nation would simply have traded one Shōgun for another. Everything they worked for, her father died for, all of it would be for nothing.
So enough with sitting here in the dark and crying herself to sleep. Enough with waiting for lightning to strike. Time to stand instead of crawling. Time to start digging out of this hole with whatever tools she could scrounge.
If she found none, there was always her fingernails.
Buruu’s warmth had emanated somewhere north, dulled with the distance between them. Somehow she had to get out to those islands, fix his wings. She considered the flying machine on the roof of the complex, but realized she had no idea how to operate it. The female arashitora was going to be no help at all; that much was clear. As for the gaijin, Danyk and Katya clearly saw her as an enemy, and the memory of Piotr slapping her, ignoring her struggles as he tore off her uwagi, still filled her with bitter, helpless outrage.
But she needed someone. By herself, she had no chance of getting out of this room, let alone rescuing Buruu.
Ilyitch was her best bet. He was young, didn’t get along with Danyk or Piotr, seemed to be an underling afforded little respect. And of course, he’d saved her from the ocean, risked his life for hers. Surely that spoke of a good heart? A kind soul? Guilt swelled at the thought of what might happen to him if his fellows caught him helping her, but she quickly quashed it under the weight of the stakes in play: not just her life. Buruu’s. Aisha’s too. All of Shima.
She had to get back. There was still hope. If they left soon, she might still reach Kigen in time to stop Hiro’s wedding. And besides, if she couldn’t trust the boy who’d dived into a freezing ocean full of sea dragons to save her life, who the hells could she trust?
But he doesn’t speak Shiman. How do I even talk to him?
She sighed, shutting her eyes. She opened up the Kenning again—just a fraction—feeling about as gently as she could beyond the wall of herself. Again, she could sense the gaijin around her, muddy and indistinct. The headache reared up like a snake behind her eyes and she whimpered in pain.
She remembered touching Yoritomo’s mind at the Burning Stones, crushing it to pulp with her thoughts. Her father had been there to help her that day, augmenting her strength with his own. But whatever was happening to the Kenning inside her, it had grown so strong she was certain she’d be able to hurt someone by herself now. Maybe not kill them outright. But definitely make them bleed.
But could she talk to them?
Not hurt them—just do something as simple as speaking?
She wouldn’t even know where to begin. The Kenning had been with her since she was six years old, seeming totally natural to her as a child. She was able to use it because nobody ever told her she couldn’t. And she’d grown up taking the gift for granted, as reflexive as walking or breathing. But this was something new. Something utterly untested, more like turning a cartwheel than placing one foot in front of another. Would she hurt him? Kill him? If she put words into the boy’s head, would he simply think himself mad?
Only one way to find out.
She reached into the Kenning, felt for the boy’s mind amidst the rolling, seething storm of gaijin around her. But almost immediately, she realized she had no way of telling one blinding tangle from another. It wasn’t as if she could read their thoughts to tell them apart—the mental reflection of every round-eye felt nearly identical. And even if she could tell one from another, she was uncertain if she could project herself into their minds without line of sight.
Line of sight …
Red.
The dog lifted his head, rawhide strip in his mouth, curled up on his blanket in His Boy’s room. His tail began wagging.
girl!
Red, will you do something for me?
will try i am gooddog!
Find your Boy.
food?
I’ll get you some food, yes.