Stormdancer (The Lotus War #1)

“Then why take it off at all?”


“To feel the wind on my face. To know what it is to be normal. To live like you, if only for a second.”

Yukiko frowned, ran one hand across her eyes.

Normal . . .

“So you were on the Child’s deck before the crash. What happened?”

“I couldn’t risk my flesh being seen. I stayed hidden, hoping the deck would clear, but when the lightning hit, the crew were everywhere. I had to wait until they abandoned ship.”

“Did you see what happened to the lifeboat? My father?”

He shook his head.

“By the time I heard the pod detach, I was already below deck getting back into my skin. It was a close thing. I barely made it off before the impact.”

“So you risked your life rather than be seen by the crew?” Yukiko raised an eyebrow.

“My chi burners can fly for twenty minutes before they run dry.”

“But what if you didn’t get into the suit in time? You’d have been incinerated.”

He shrugged.

“Being killed in a sky-ship crash would be a mercy compared to my punishment if the Guild found out I’d taken off my skin in public. There are worse things than dying.”

“Taken off your skin? What do you mean?”

“That’s what we call it.” He rapped his knuckles on the atmos-suit. “Our skin. The Purifiers say the flesh underneath is only an illusion. Flawed and powerless.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s Guild doctrine,” he shrugged again. “Skin is strong. Flesh is weak.” He touched his forehead with two fingers. “The lotus must bloom.”

ENOUGH NOISE. STAND ASIDE. I WILL GUT HIM.

Buruu stepped forward, a low growl building in the back of his throat. Yukiko glared at him over her shoulder, refusing to move.

We can’t kill him like this.

AH. YOU WISH TO LET HIM STARVE, THEN. SLOW DEATH. FITTING.

No, I think we should bring him with us.

Buruu blinked, cocked his head to one side.

TO EAT?

What? No! I mean we should help him.

. . . NO.

Why not?

DESPOILER. PARASITE. HIS KIND HAVE TORTURED THE SKIES. COUNTLESS BEASTS. COUNTLESS LIVES. ALL FOR GREED.

If you kill him, you’re no better than them. You’re just another murderer. And if we leave him out here, he’s as good as dead.

Kin looked back and forth between them, a frown on his face.

Please, Buruu. Just for a while at least?

Buruu’s frustration bubbled over in a snarl, but he backed away, finally turning and bounding up a nearby cedar. He nestled among the shadows and glowered down at the Guildsman, claws twitching on the branches. Waiting. Patient as a cat.

“It’s magnificent.” Kin shook his head, staring at the arashitora.

“I don’t think he likes you.” Yukiko smiled, apologetic.

“We didn’t believe they existed. We thought that Yoritomo had finally gone mad, that this quest would end in dismal failure and his public humiliation.” He shook his head. “Imagine his joy when you bring him such a prize.” He looked at her, eyes sparkling. “You will be a goddess. You could ask for anything you wanted, and the Shōgun would grant it.”

She stood, arms folded, uncomfortable beneath his stare.

“Can you climb a tree in that suit? It’s probably not safe to sleep on the ground.”

“I can get into the trees, hai.”

“We’ll set out at dawn. We’re heading south, toward Yama.”

“As you wish.”

“Well . . . goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Yukiko-chan.”

She turned and flitted across the undergrowth, climbed up Buruu’s tree and nestled beside him. He closed a protective wing around her. They watched as Kin placed his insectoid helmet back on, twisting buttons and levers at his wrist. The coiled pipes at his back roared to life, spitting bright blue lotus flame, propelling him upward into the branches of an ancient maple. He lay down among the boughs, securing himself with steel cable from a capsule on his thigh. Roses smoldered in his wake, blackened by lotus exhaust.

Buruu growled, staring at the ring of wilted, ruined blossoms.

DESPOILER. EVERYTHING THEY TOUCH, THEY DESTROY.

Yukiko stared at the clockwork silhouette. Intermittent blue sparks spat from ruptured metal. The blood-red rectangle glowed, the eye of some hungry ghost, a winter wolf come down starving from the mountain. She shook her head at the fancy, banishing it from her mind.

Still, it was a long while before she slept.





17 To Be the Wind


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