by Liz Delton
Kira nodded, despite knowing that her mere presence was what had provoked Rabenda yesterday.
She hadn’t thought she was truly hungry until the kitchen house came into view, along with its accompanying scents that wafted enticingly over the courtyard. Nesma led her around back, under the vine-covered pergola. Most of their combat class was already assembled on the benches here, with plenty of other trainees, happily chatting over their breakfasts. Kira’s stomach grumbled loudly as she inhaled.
At the back door of the kitchen house, they were greeted by Miss Mayu. Her lined face held softness, and her dark eyes were intelligent. After one sweeping look over Kira, she gestured with her wooden spoon at the aprons on a rack by the door.
Nesma showed Kira where they washed dishes but then disappeared when Miss Mayu called her for another task. Kira had seconds to get her bearings before someone began to hand her dirty dishes.
She was no stranger to chores. Ever since she could remember, she had helped her mother take care of the house, no matter where they lived.
The thought of the food she would soon be eating became her one thought as she washed the remnants away. She vowed never to skip dinner again, no matter how tired she might be.
The monotony of the task made the hour speed by. Trainees that had finished eating breakfast brought their heavy lacquered trays full of dirty dishes to a window on one side of the kitchen house. Others on kitchen duty brought Kira a steady stream of the dirty plates, bowls, and cups. On the other side of the kitchen house, trainees handed out full trays of food from another window. There was an incredible rhythm to it all.
Miss Mayu reigned over the center of the kitchen house, overseeing the cooking—stirring, tasting, and timing everything until it was just to her liking. Kira had almost forgotten about Rabenda, but the girl was on the other side of the kitchen house, handing out food. She wasn’t even sure Rabenda knew she was here.
Eventually, Nesma came and pulled her away from the wash basin. The kitchen house was nearly empty now. They removed their aprons, and Nesma led her outside.
Her mentor handed her a beautiful lacquered tray filled with small dishes of food then grabbed her own. They sat at the nearest bench and dug in. Miss Mayu and the others joined them under the pergola, quietly partaking in their own breakfasts. The scent of dish soap permeated the air around Kira.
She surveyed her tray with a curious eye. The dirty dishes that had been handed to her had all been empty, so she didn’t really know what to expect. It was hardly the bagel and cream cheese she had grown used to in New York.
Most distinguishable among the small bowls and plates were a hard-boiled egg, a bowl of rice, and some cherries. The rest, she wasn’t so sure about. There were large green vegetables she didn’t recognize in a brown sauce, and another small bowl held some kind of soup. She chuckled when she realized she had been expecting fish or dried seaweed. Maybe there was no ocean nearby.
“What do we do after this?” Kira asked after swallowing a huge bite of egg. She washed it down with a sip of warm tea.
“Healing arts,” Nesma told her. “I want to get there early so I can introduce you to Mistress Tori. You’ll like her. She’s from the Shadow region, actually.”
Before Kira could even remark on that fact, she experienced a searing pain all down her back, followed by an equally hot wetness. She yelped.
“Whoops!” cried a girl from behind her, and Kira whirled around to see Rabenda holding a nearly empty soup bowl. “Sorry! I tripped.”
Kira politely muttered acknowledgement of Rabenda’s pretend apologies. The girl walked away toward a bench full of other pages, not entirely hiding the look of glee upon her face. Kira’s eyes narrowed at Rabenda as she watched her go. So much for Rabenda not noticing me.
Heat began to surge up from her gut, making the anger seethe in her chest. And then she yelped again. Her fingers were glowing with Light fire. She quickly hid them below the table. Not even Nesma saw, as her mentor leapt from her feet to examine Kira’s back.
Kira urged the fire to go away. She knew she wasn’t supposed to do Light magic outside of lessons and certainly didn’t want to cross Miss Mayu. She took several deep breaths then peeked below the table. Her fingers were back to normal.
Her attention quickly returned to her burned back. She pulled her wet shirt away from the stinging skin and tried not to wince.
Nesma let out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t believe her. Are you okay?”
Kira nodded, keeping the fabric away from the burn. The soup on the fabric had cooled quickly, but the touch of it felt like sandpaper instead of soft wool.
Miss Mayu was there in a flash. Without asking, she lifted the fabric to take a look. She sucked air between her teeth at the sight of the burn. “You’ll need to go to the healer’s,” she said matter-of-factly.
After a forlorn look at her unfinished breakfast, Kira obeyed. Though not inclined to let Rabenda know how much it hurt, Kira knew not to disagree with Miss Mayu.
“I’ve got to stay to clean up.” Nesma gestured to the courtyard of breakfasters at large. “But you should be able to find it. It’s up in the garden. Just past the huge statue of Gekkō.
“Oh! And we didn’t get you books!” Nesma exclaimed. “I’ll run to the Moonstone before class—I had meant to go last night with you after dinner.”
“All right.” Kira gave her a weak smile then scarfed down a few more hasty bites of her breakfast and left.
She glanced at Rabenda, who was discussing something in low voices with her friends and throwing not-so-covert looks in Kira’s direction. Kira huffed. Why couldn’t Rabenda just leave her alone?
She crossed the temple square and headed up the stairs to the garden. Her back was beginning to sting something fierce. She wandered the cool green paths of the garden, looking for a statue. Nesma hadn’t pointed out any statues, or the healer’s yesterday, but had sounded so matter-of-fact about it, Kira was sure she’d find it. Part of her just wanted to get away from Rabenda and all the others.
As she followed the path, her anger at Rabenda cooled, and she began to worry how many others hated people from the Shadow region. I’ll have to watch my back, she thought, literally, and grimaced as a soft breeze ruffled her shirt.
Just as she was wondering whether she would even find the healer’s by the time Nesma found her, she spotted an old man sitting on one of the benches along the path. Her hope that it was Ichiro was dashed as she grew closer. This man was tiny and ancient, crouched over a walking stick. His head hardly came up to the hedges on either side of the bench. His white hair was short but ruffled and soft-looking, reminding Kira of animal fur. He raised his head at the sound of her footsteps.
She smiled automatically and opened her mouth to ask if he knew where the statue of Gekkō was, but then she saw. It was right behind the man and the bench, tucked among the trees and hedges. She could see the big letters engraved on the stone placard beneath the statue’s sandaled feet.
“Hello,” she said instead, her eyes still on the statue behind him.
It towered over the two of them and, indeed, the trees on either side of it. Nesma couldn’t have led her down this path yesterday—she would have noticed it.
“Hello,” the old man replied pleasantly, craning his neck to look up at her. “Sit down, why don’t you?”
Kira obeyed and sank onto the stone bench, a meek smile upon her face. She wondered if he was a Master or just a visitor to the temple. In either case, she ought to be polite. She folded her hands in her lap, unsure of what to say.
“I was just admiring Mistress Tori’s garden,” he remarked, gesturing at the green enclosure with a withered hand.
“It’s hers?” Kira asked, surprised. “I didn’t know that; I only just got here.”
The man nodded and said, “Yes.”
Kira cast about for something else to say, but after a moment, the old man finally said, “Balance is important in nature, you know. Too much light and the plants
wither and die. Too much dark, and the effect is the same. But unfortunately, not everyone knows this.”
Kira bobbed her head a few times in vague agreement, surveying the plants nearby. They all looked healthy to her.
“Only when there is a balance of light and dark can there be harmony. Without night, day would have no meaning. Without sun, there is no life. It’s the contrast, the balance, that keeps us alive.” He spread his hands before him, and Kira’s eyes were drawn to them. A dim purple light pooled between his hands, and Kira’s eyes widened, staring. Was this more Light magic, or was it something else?
The purple light was growing, flowing, swirling with speckles of stars that could have been entire galaxies.
“Just like Light and Shadow,” he intoned, and the purple light burst apart, scattering into a thousand tiny purple flower petals.
Kira blinked, staring in amazement as the flower petals swirled through the air on a nonexistent breeze. She blinked again, and just as suddenly, the old man was gone.
She flew to her feet, hastily looking around, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. The petals drifted to the ground, littering it like delicate purple snow. In the distance, the temple bell echoed across the mountain.
Kira looked up at the statue and frowned. It portrayed an old man, not unlike the one she had just met, with some kind of plump squirrel on his shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at the placard underneath the man’s sandaled feet. The carved words were black with age. It read: Gekkō, the spirit of the mountain.
Chapter Nine
A Sharp Needle
Kira took several unsteady steps away from the bench.
She now spotted a narrow opening between the hedges, surely leading to the healer’s. Kira darted down the path at once but threw a nervous glance back toward the statue of Gekkō.
Could it really have been the spirit of the mountain? She hadn’t seen anything like what he had conjured between his fingers before. Even though she had only been in the Realm of Camellia for two days, she had seen quite enough since going through the door. Did spirits visit people often? She wasn’t sure if this was something that she should keep quiet or not.
As her racing heart slowed, she decided she would wait to mention it to anyone. She didn’t want to bring any unwanted attention to herself, as Ichiro and Nari had insisted. She was getting used to keeping secrets, so what was one more? Besides, the old man—or spirit—hadn’t said much to her except that plants needed balance, as did Light and Shadow. Even she could tell the feud between Light and Shadow could not be a good thing.
Kira paused when she reached the small wooden building tucked at the end of the path. Its roof swooped low at the corners and had intricately carved pieces all along the edges. She crossed the grassy clearing in front and made for the open door. Before she reached it, however, a voice called from around the side of the building.
“Is someone there?” A head of long red-tinged black hair poked around the building, and the woman’s face broke into a smile.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked.
“Are you Mistress Tori?”
The woman nodded, and Kira went on. “I—um—got burned by some soup,” she said, reaching to pull the fabric away from the burn again.
“Are you new to the temple?” the woman asked, setting down a jar of herbs on one of the shelves that lined the outside of the building. She came forward and lifted the back of Kira’s shirt with indifferent familiarity. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“Just arrived yesterday,” Kira said.
“Hmm, yes, I’ve got just the thing. Wait here, why don’t you? I can patch you up in no time.”
Kira barely had time to examine the jars of herbs stacked along the shelves before Mistress Tori returned and began rubbing a soothing balm on the burn. The pain subsided faster than Kira expected.
“How did it happen?”
“Oh—um—someone spilled soup on me by accident.”
“Hmm,” Mistress Tori replied, intent on applying the balm.
“I’m Kira, by the way,” she said. “I’ll be in your class next—Nesma’s my mentor.”
“Oh, I like Nesma,” Mistress Tori said frankly, finishing and coming around to face Kira. “She’s not afraid to learn new things. And speaking of the class—”
They both looked to see Nesma entering the clearing, her face pinched in worry. She smiled when she saw Kira. Several other novices came down the path behind her and settled themselves on the grass easily. Kira recognized a few from their combat class this morning. Michi waved at Kira.
She thanked Mistress Tori and went to sit by Nesma and Hikaru. All of a sudden, the meeting with the spirit of the mountain jumped to the foreground of her thoughts.
“How did clean up go?” she asked Nesma to hide the sudden guilt at her new secret.
“Fine,” Nesma replied. “I just don’t know what to do about Rabenda. For all the world, it looked like an accident—even Miss Mayu thought so.”
“We’ll have to watch out,” Kira said, nodding. She had bigger problems than Rabenda.
Mistress Tori called the class to attention, and Kira stopped thinking about Rabenda. She stopped thinking about the burn too, because it no longer hurt.
The jars of herbs on the shelves reminded her of the way her mother used to always keep some herbs in the kitchen, wherever they lived. Kira had never thought there was anything magical about those herbs, but her mother always made her drink ginger tea if her stomach hurt or use peppermint oil to cure a headache. She wondered if her mother had learned it here, at Gekkō-ji. She shivered at the thought.
Nesma handed Kira a slim stack of books, a blank notebook on top. They were nothing like Kira’s textbooks at home. For one, they were bound in leather. Instead of a pen, Nesma had brought her a quill and ink. Kira bit her lip and didn’t take notes, instead devoting her attention to every word Mistress Tori said, so as not to look inattentive. Perhaps she could try the quill in private, later.
Mistress Tori didn’t draw attention to Kira’s newness but at least began the lesson by explaining some elements of the class clearly intended for Kira’s benefit.
“As many of you know, it is the nature of Shadow magic to be unseen and untouchable and of Light to be seen, physical magic. They both have their uses in healing. With Shadow magic, one can actually heal a sick or injured person’s body, if their magic is strong enough. With Light, you will physically treat the symptoms or injury.
“Now, some of you might go on to the Shadow class eventually, if you show aptitude. Though, as you know, being blessed with both Light and Shadow is extremely rare, and due to the current state of the Realm, a complete study of Shadow magic at this time is…impossible.
“Who can tell me something we use Light magic for in healing?” Mistress Tori asked.
Michi raised her hand. “For bandages and splints.”
“Yes, that’s right. What else can you do with Light?”
Someone from behind Kira spoke up this time, and she turned to see a boy in a fine red and black vest say, “Make instruments or stitches.”
“Correct, Takeda. Needles and stitches, scalpels and tweezers and the like can all be made with Light magic. Anything else?”
Kira sat in fascination, listening. She had already decided to stay quiet and not draw attention to herself, but an answer popped into her head, and she tentatively raised her hand. Mistress Tori caught her eye, and Kira offered, “To cauterize a wound.” Fire, so far, had been her only experience with Light magic.
She felt her face turn red. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nesma draw a leg up to rest her chin on her knee.
“Very true,” Mistress Tori replied gravely. “In some emergency situations, this is needed. As fully trained knights, you will work in service of the realm—which is why learning healing is just as important as learning to fight. You may need your skills for yourself, for other knights, or for civilians. As a knight, you will be expected to protect t
he innocent—and those thrown into danger by the current state of the realm.”
Silence followed these last words, broken only by the birds chirping happily in the trees. The spirit of the mountain’s cryptic warning surfaced again in Kira’s thoughts. Just how serious was this feud?
Finally, Mistress Tori continued. “Across all of Camellia, in both branches of magic, we can rely on herbal remedies and medicines, which contain the essence of all magic. This is your foundation for the healing arts.”
They spent the remainder of the lesson grinding certain dried herbs Mistress Tori showed them and mixing them into a healing solution. A few of the trainees conjured their own mortars and pestles out of Light magic to grind the herbs. Mistress Tori provided the rest of the class with stone implements.
By the end of the lesson, Nesma and Kira had succeeded in making the basic healing cream. It smelled like the stuff Mistress Tori had applied to her burn. Kira had never made something so useful before. She eyed the glass jar with a grin. Nesma seemed proud, too.
Mistress Tori inspected each mixture that the class brought her and told them she would be adding these to the apothecary’s stores, to be used to treat Gekkō-ji’s patients.
Nesma brought their completed mixture to Mistress Tori while Kira tidied up. Since they were outside, it was rather easy. She picked up the mortar and brushed the remains of the crushed herbs onto the grass. The heavy bowl looked and felt like stone, but as she eyed one of the students who had conjured their own, she began to wonder.
She ran a finger along the rim, trying to think back to yesterday when she had inadvertently burned Rabenda with Light fire. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to conjure the magic. She had been clouded by surprise and anger at Rabenda and the feeling of the breath choking out of her.
The group next to her had summoned their tools with Light and were now cleaning up as well. The girl put a hand on each mortar and pestle—both of which looked like white stone—and closed her eyes. Kira saw her lips form silent words, and then the tools glowed bright white before dissolving into the air.