DO NOT PRAY FOR US. PRAY FOR IT.
Buruu moved, razor-swift, whisper-quiet, stretching out his wings and leaping into the dark. Yukiko shouted at him to wait. The Artificer looked toward her voice, sharp intake of breath hissing through its bellows as the shadow swooped down. It turned to run, far too late. Buruu was on top of it, swiping a fistful of bristling talons across its chest and sending it spinning into a nearby tree. A flash of bright sparks accompanied the hollow crack of bursting pipes. The Guildsman tumbled down into a tangle of wild roses, crying out in fright and pain amidst the groan of metal and hiss of acetylene.
Yukiko swung down from the maple branches, running toward the pair, hand outstretched.
“Buruu, stop!” she screamed. “Stop!”
“Yukiko?” The Artificer wheezed, one hand clasped to its ruptured breastplate.
Buruu’s talons hung in the air, poised for the deathblow.
IT KNOWS YOUR NAME.
Yukiko frowned.
It might have overheard it on the ship . . .
“Yukiko-chan, it’s me.” The Guildsman fumbled with the clasps on its helmet. There was a hiss of suction, compressed air bursting from the cuff around its neck as the throat unfurled like a mechanical flower. It peeled the helmet away from its face and she saw pale skin, close-cropped hair, eyes bright as a knife-edge.
“Kin-san?” she gasped.
YOU KNOW THIS ONE?
Yukiko was aghast, staring at the boy as if he were a ghost.
I met him on the sky-ship. But I never saw him in his suit.
“You’re a Guildsman?” Her eyes were narrowed with surprise and betrayal.
“Hai.”
“But Yamagata-san said the Child’s Guildsman was called Kioshi . . .”
Kin had his hands up in surrender, back pressed against the tree behind him. Rose petals fell about him like snow. Thick red oozed from his ruptured breastplate, leaking down the brass in a sluggish flow. His eyes never left the arashitora’s claws.
“Kioshi was my father. He died two summers ago.”
“So?”
“So, it’s Guild custom to take the name of an honored parent after they pass.” He winced, moving slowly so as not to startle the thunder tiger looming above him. “Can you call off your friend, please? He seems to listen to you.”
“You’re with them.” Yukiko took a step back, drew her knife. “You’re one of them.”
“I was born one. I never chose it.” He looked up into her eyes. “You don’t get to choose your family.”
“But you burn people, Kin. You burn children . . .”
“No, that’s not me,” he shook his head. “I’m an Artificer, Yukiko. I fix engines. I build machines. That’s all.”
“You could have said something. You lied to me.”
“I never lied. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
“You said you were alone.”
“I am alone.”
“There’s hundreds of you. Maybe thousands. You and your ‘family’ are everywhere.”
“Just because you’re standing in a crowd doesn’t mean you belong there.”
Buruu glowered at the boy, eyes alight with bloodlust. One flick of his talons and the monkey-child’s life would be spilled over the forest.
WE SHOULD KILL HIM.
Yukiko chewed her lip, stared down at the Artificer.
I’m not so sure . . .
WHY NOT? DESPOILER. USURPER. HIS KIND OVERSEE THE RAPE OF SHIMA.
. . . I’m not sure he’s like the others. He’s gentle. Kind.
She pushed a picture into his mind, the image of Kin without his suit, standing on the Child’s prow and laughing in the clean rain. It was almost impossible to imagine that pale, fragile boy as one of the faceless monsters she so despised. Looking into Kin’s eyes, she couldn’t imagine him hurting a lotusfly, let alone lighting a fire under some poor child at the Burning Stones.
Give me a minute to talk to him.
YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO.
I’m not telling. I’m asking.
She ran one hand down the sleek feathers at his throat.
Please, Buruu?
The thunder tiger growled, a bass rumble that made the leaves above and the boy below tremble. But he lowered his claws and stepped back, eyes like arrowslits. His tail whipped from side to side, head cocked, shoulders tense.
“You’re hurt,” Yukiko said, kneeling beside Kin. Concern welled in her eyes as she looked down at the thick red spilling over his clockwork breastplate. The ruptured mechabacus whirred and clicked in a broken beat, spitting counting beads into Kin’s lap.
“It’s not blood, it’s only chi.” He reached out as if to touch her, make sure she was real.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Kin?”
There was no anger in her voice now, only disappointment. She sheathed the tantō at her back.
Kin’s hand dropped to his side.
“I thought you would hate me.” He hung his head. “That you wouldn’t trust me. Besides, being seen in public without our suits is forbidden. It’s a great sin for your kind to see our flesh, for us to risk contamination from the outside world. If anyone found out . . .”