The Starless Girl

by Liz Delton

  “Then I suppose I have you to thank for library chores?” He grinned at her and sank into the nearest chair.

  She nodded and told him about the rest of Ichiro’s note.

  “So this is homework for you?”

  “Yep, and I imagine you’re here to help.”

  Jun groaned. “Fine. Go get some books while I look around—I want to make sure no one’s really in here.”

  Kira grabbed his arm. “Why don’t you pick out the books? I don’t know what I need to learn.”

  “You’re going to take all the fun out of library duty, aren’t you?”

  “Still better than washing dishes,” she called out as she walked down the next aisle.

  Chapter Twenty

  Breaking Swords

  After her first few trying days as a page, Kira was actually looking forward to her weekend lesson with Zowan. Kira had expected the page-level classes to be more difficult, but she barely remembered a single one of them. The Masters made them work at such a speed and with such vigor, the only thing Kira remembered clearly about the past few days was the tiresome ache with which she woke in the mornings.

  Today, she only wished she could sleep in a little longer.

  “At least we don’t have to go to the library this morning,” Jun said cheerfully, following her to the main gate after breakfast.

  “What are you talking about?” Kira retorted. “All you do is sleep when we’re on library duty. I’m the one who’s been studying.” Kira adjusted her scarf and stuck her hands into the deep pockets of her long pants. It was windy atop the mountain, and the weather had grown much colder now that it was October—or, Kira remembered, the “tenth month.”

  Fires were lit in the Moonstone and dorm houses, which was easy when nearly everyone in the temple could conjure fire at the tips of their fingers. Mistress Tori’s healing arts class had moved inside of the garden apothecary, a cozy wooden cottage whose walls were lined with cubby-holes of all shapes and sizes, containing hundreds of herbs and plants used in healing. The hearth inside the apothecary was always crowded with pots full of steeping herbs.

  Kira’s favorite place lately was the library. The cold mornings helped her shake off her usual morning stupor as she hurried across the courtyard each day, her breath clouding before her. At the far end of the library, the enormous hearth was banked to winking coals by the time Kira and Jun entered the cavernous room. After bringing it back to life and putting a kettle on it, they helped themselves to tea from one of the cabinets and got to work. Jun usually fell asleep in one of the cozy chairs while Kira read, but it was nice to have at least some company.

  Jun chuckled. “Hey, I help you pick out books, don’t I?”

  “Yes, you’ve been very helpful. When I get my own poet, I’ll make sure there’s a few about you,” Kira said, and Jun snorted.

  “Do you know where Sir Nikko is taking you today?” Kira asked as they passed through the gate.

  “Nikko said we’d be going to Arrowwood to settle a land dispute,” Jun said excitedly.

  “Ooh,” Kira said, trying to sound just as interested. She wasn’t sure if Jun’s excitement was genuine, but it was his first quest, after all.

  “It’s pretty far too,” Jun went on. “We might not be back until late tomorrow.”

  “Just don’t miss your lessons,” Kira reminded him. “And I expect to see you bright and early for library chores Monday.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  Zowan was already waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs but dismounted from Briar when he saw Jun accompanying her. Meluca took a few steps toward Kira when she saw her.

  “I hear congratulations are in order, Kosumoso. Well done. Did you beat the record for shortest time as a novice?”

  Jun grinned and ducked his head. “Not quite. I checked in the library the other day—I was two days over. I blame the timing of the new moon,” he added ruefully.

  Zowan gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Jun on the back.

  “Already going on a quest, I see? Who’s taking you on, then?”

  “Sir Nikko. We’re heading out to Arrowwood.”

  “Ahh, Nikko. I met him once at your father’s estate. He’s an honorable knight; not much of a sense of humor, though.”

  Kira piped up, “And he wrote to Jun the day after he became a page—he’s quite in demand. Everyone was jealous.” She grinned at him.

  “Everyone but you,” Jun replied jovially. “Miss-I’m-already-a-page.”

  Kira rolled her eyes.

  “We’d best be off,” Zowan announced and handed Kira Meluca’s reins. “I’ve got a very exciting lesson for the Starless one today.”

  Jun raised his eyebrows at Kira, and she shrugged. They left Jun waiting at the bottom of the stairs in the cool autumn morning. Kira slipped a pair of leather gloves out of her pocket, which lessened the bite of the cold on her fingers as they rode.

  The gloves, along with her scarf, and the occasional new outfit or trinket she might need had all appeared on top of the new trunk at the end of her bed or been tucked into her small mailbox cubby without a word. She figured they were from Nari or Ichiro, since they knew Kira had no money, belongings, or family here—and knew precisely why.

  Her heart twinged at the thought. She had been in the Realm of Camellia for over a month now. Over a month since she had seen her mother for the very last time.

  More than once, when Jun had fallen asleep, Kira had gone wandering down the rows and rows of books in the library, though she didn’t know what she was searching for. Ri Savage. Kira had seen her mother’s name printed in neat letters many times back home in the Starless Realm, on bills that came in the mail, on nametags from some of the places her mother worked. Ri. Kira could picture it in black type on a gold plastic nametag her mother had pinned to her dress each day they had lived in New York before leaving for her shift at the diner.

  It had surprised Kira that her mother had worked so much in the city. Was it so expensive that they needed the money? Or was her mother finally finished with her mysterious ventures? Her habit of disappearing for days at a time disappeared with their move to the city, and her mother gave no explanation. Kira would never know why, would perhaps never see her mother’s name in print again.

  Unless she saw it in this realm.

  It was a mix of excitement and dread with which she combed the shelves those mornings. Seeing the name would make it real. Even more real than when she skimmed through Visitors from the Starless Realm and their Effects on Camellia and confirmed that none of the other visitors had neither Light nor Shadow. Neither was there any record of them returning to the Starless Realm.

  Then how had her mother brought her there, as Ichiro believed?

  Zowan halted all of a sudden, and Kira realized they had reached the mossy clearing. He dismounted from Briar and with a loud clatter removed a large bundle from his saddle.

  “You’ve been quiet,” he observed.

  Kira shrugged. “So have you. I’m surprised you didn’t want to hear about the dark dragon.”

  “Oh, I heard plenty from Ichiro,” he replied grimly.

  “Really? Did he say what it was?”

  Zowan dropped the bundle on the ground with a loud clank. “I suppose you’re under the impression that it wasn’t Shadow magic.”

  “No, and it was just like the dark hound that chased me in the Starless Realm. And Thistle said it wasn’t.”

  “Thistle?” Zowan crouched down and unrolled the bundle, revealing an assortment of knives and swords.

  Kira’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t actually decided whether she was going to tell Zowan about Thistle’s most recent visit, but now it was too late. “Gekkō’s messenger, the flying squirrel. He came to me the morning after the dragon.”

  “What did he want?” Zowan looked up from the knives, eyes sharp.

  “Uh, well, first he said that it wasn’t Shadow magic, it was something more dangerous, and that they’ve been appearing at new and full
moons—”

  “What did he want?” Zowan repeated.

  Kira sighed. “He wanted me to persuade the leaders of the temples to form a balance.”

  “And you agreed.” It wasn’t a question. Zowan looked partially amused but mostly pained by this.

  “I don’t know,” Kira confessed. “I just said I’d try, but then someone was calling for me, and Thistle disappeared. Do you think that counts as agreeing?”

  Zowan picked up two swords from the bundle and stood, handing them both to Kira.

  “Remember that homework I gave you our first lesson, that you conveniently found a way around answering?”

  Kira nodded, the weight of two unfamiliar swords feeling strange in her hands.

  “The spirits have a strange way with agreements. I told you not to agree to anything. Luckily, this doesn’t sound too difficult. What exact words did he use?”

  Kira thought for a moment, her eyes rolling up to the sky. “‘You must warn the leaders of the temples.’ So I just have to tell Ichiro and Nari they need to make peace or—”

  “Leaders of the temples?” Zowan echoed, his face going pale, and his eyebrows drawing together as they burrowed deep wrinkles across his forehead. “Temples, plural?”

  The swords in her hands fell to the mossy ground with barely a sound.

  “I—I—” she stuttered. “No. He can’t have said that.”

  Zowan groaned, startling her as he lunged forward, grabbing at the fallen swords.

  “This is why I told you to be careful, Kira! This is why I warned you not to make any agreements! And don’t you dare think about confronting the Storm King,” he thundered.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” she forced through gritted teeth then reached forward and grabbed the swords back from him. “Now, what do you want me to do with these swords?” she demanded.

  “You’re not getting out of this that easily, Starless one—” he began.

  “Well, what do you expect me to do?” she exploded. “I can’t tell the truth to anyone; a flying squirrel comes out of nowhere and starts talking to me—telling me things about the dark-creatures that no one else knows. I can’t get two seconds of Nari or Ichiro’s time; all they do is tell me to wait and then put me in the library and tell me to figure things out myself.” It all bubbled out of her like venom, and Zowan felt like the perfect target to throw it at.

  “Not to mention having been chased into this realm in the first place, realizing I have magic, then being told everything I knew living in the Starless Realm is a lie and that I’m really from here to begin with. I have no family, no home, nothing.”

  “Stop flailing those swords around. You’ll hurt somebody,” Zowan said calmly, as if she hadn’t been shouting so loudly as to spook the horses.

  She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of Zowan. She scrunched up her face and stared at the moss. She nudged the tips of the swords into the moss, grounding them.

  “It’s not your fault,” Zowan said, taking the swords from her again. “And I’m sorry I raised my voice.”

  “It’s okay,” Kira muttered. Out of energy, she sank down to sit in the moss, her knees pulled tight to her chest.

  Zowan set the swords back in the bundle then joined her on the ground. “I know this must be hard for you, pretending to be someone you’re not. And I know dealing with spirits isn’t something you’re used to.”

  Kira grunted. She was done with spirits and mysterious creatures. From the moment she had set foot in Camellia and encountered the terrifying woman by the bridge, to the dark-creatures…

  “I too, lost my family.”

  Kira looked up from her knees at Zowan’s words. “I’m sorry, Zowan. I didn’t know.”

  “Not many do.” He heaved a great sigh. “When I parted ways with the Storm King—I no longer consider the man family—I was forced to leave my wife and child behind. We lived together at the Spire, you see, and the Storm King would not allow them to leave. I wasn’t able to return to the temple. If I hadn’t disagreed with him, perhaps they would have lived.”

  “What happened to them?” Kira asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  “I was told that a sickness spread through the Spire that winter. You probably know from Mistress Tori that Shadow mages are the best healers in Camellia. Well, nothing seemed to stymie this sickness, and many died.”

  “I’m so sorry, Zowan.”

  He stared down at the moss for a moment longer but then clapped his hands on his thighs. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to detract from your troubles, though. I just…” He paused, cringing. “Just wanted you to know you’re not alone,” he said quickly.

  She smiled at him. “So what are we doing with all these swords?”

  ***

  For once, Kira returned from her lesson with Zowan without any sore limbs. Instead, a headache was growing at the back of her neck. They had spent hours studying the different swords Zowan had brought—going over the different types, how they were made, and which ones were better for specific purposes.

  Then, when Kira had thought they were done, Zowan announced, “And now for the important part.”

  “What?” she cried. “I thought—”

  “I want you to tell me which of these are made of Light and which are real. No getting around it this time.”

  They sat in the moss long into the afternoon, Zowan giving her hints and instructions, none of which helped her tell them apart. She touched them, picked them up, stared at them for long periods of time. She closed her eyes and tried to feel the Light magic in them. When she realized the sun was going down, she thought the lesson might be over.

  “We’re not leaving this clearing until you point out at least one,” Zowan said.

  But with the disappearance of the sun, Kira’s vision became infused with Light. She had thought for sure this would be the key to telling the swords apart.

  “They all still look the same,” she muttered when she could see everything with the outline of Light magic. None of the swords glowed any differently than the others.

  Zowan grinned. “These are all high-quality weapons—whether steel or Light. The blades of Light were made with very strong wills, to resemble their original counterparts perfectly.”

  “Listen,” he said when it was truly dark. He lit a small traveling lamp to see by. Kira was frustrated beyond measure. “The whole reason we’re doing this is so you can learn how to destroy a Light weapon. Try destroying one of the swords with your will.”

  “But—”

  “No. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know how. Just try doing it.”

  Kira reached out and touched one of the swords, a katana, Zowan had told her. She glanced up at him, and he nodded for her to go ahead. She grasped the handle in a firm grip and imagined the sword splintering into a thousand pieces and flying all over the clearing. She imagined the Light diffusing out of it, returning its essence to the mossy earth.

  The sword pushed back at her. It pulsed with a brief energy, as if telling her, “No.”

  “This one!” she cried. “It—it’s Light. I felt something.”

  Zowan grinned, his features ghostly in the light of the narrow moon and highlighted by Kira’s Light.

  “You see? You mustn’t wait for the object to tell you that it’s Light. You have to seek it out.”

  They packed up the swords and rode back to the temple, a newfound pride in Kira’s chest. Even though it had taken all afternoon, she had figured it out. She bet even Jun didn’t know how to do it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Splintered

  Jun’s quest seemed to take just as long as he had expected, for Kira and Nesma passed all of the next day without seeing him. They studied in the garden most of the day, so Kira wouldn’t have to spend extra time in the library.

  On Monday morning, however, Kira was the only one to arrive at the library in the cold. She paced the empty library, wondering where he might be, her mind immediately racing to the worst possible scenarios
. He could be hurt, he could have been killed—what if another dark-creature attacked? She brushed that thought aside, remembering what Thistle had told her about the creatures appearing at new and full moons. Living at Gekkō-ji had attuned her to the cycles of the moon, since that was how they counted their days. It wouldn’t be full until next week.

  She pulled books off the shelves at random, scanned their titles, and stuffed them roughly back onto the shelf. Should she tell someone Jun was missing? No. She calmed down a little. Perhaps he had gotten back late last night and overslept; she wouldn’t want to get him in trouble.

  But when he didn’t arrive for breakfast, she knew he couldn’t be at the temple. He would never miss breakfast, even if he was tired. She found Nesma alone under the pergola, reading a book while she ate.

  “Hi, Kira. It’s so nice not having kitchen duty anymore, isn’t it? I’m glad we get to have breakfast with everyone else again.”

  “Not quite everyone,” Kira muttered significantly.

  Nesma looked around at the courtyard, eyes wide. “Jun isn’t back yet?”

  Kira shook her head. “What do we do? I don’t want to get him in trouble, but—do you think something could have gone wrong?”

  Nesma bit her lip. “Sir Nikko will protect him, I’m sure. You two have your history and strategy lesson next, right?”

  “Yes, but combat right after. If Jun is late or misses it…” She shuddered, remembering Anzu’s story. She didn’t want to know what Tenchi would do if Jun missed it altogether.

  “I’m sure this sort of thing has happened before,” Nesma said uncomfortably. “Hikaru just left for the stables, though. Otherwise, we could ask him.”

  “I’ll go.”

  “Don’t you want to eat—?”

  “I’m fine. If I go now, I can run up there and make it back in time for class.” She bolted out of the courtyard, panic rising in her gut, though she didn’t know why. Jun himself had given her grief for letting Zowan’s quest interfere with her lessons. Wouldn’t he have done everything he could to return on time?