Could he be right? Could the other nations simply shrug? Ishe looked away. "I will still fight you. With every breath. And if I cannot touch you I will come after your spawn."
"So stubborn." A trace of admiration crept in his voice. "We will see."
"See what?" Ishe hissed.
He snorted. "Have patience Rhino. I'm sure your tiny brain will work it out soon enough. In the meantime, endure your light punishment with that thick hide of yours. Now let me sleep, I have a busy day tomorrow." The eyes drifted away and closed, leaving the lair devoid of any light.
Slowly, the cage's swing faded and Ishe found herself still bracing blow to strike at her from the blackness. It never came.
Chapter 10
A rest, a breakfast so large that the chef of the tiny restaurant she ate it in joke that she must be pregnant with a God and a very long bath made Yaki feel nearly human again. Morning also brought the delivery of her first dress, a fashionable day kimono patterned with a geometric grid, the skirt had slits up to mind thigh so it would not encumber her movements. Hidden buckles in the overly long sleeve could hide any number of weapons or tools and a swift tug at a strap would bind them up to her forearms. The Death Panther's mark emblazoned across her entire back as if it were her family's sign. A dress made for dueling, Mother had never won anything else in the Steward's court and had been mocked for it. Now the shops were packed with them. The only addition was a small Lyndon style bustle which concealed a hidden pouch which would have been the perfect place for her medical crystal.
The heart still burned in her chest, a constant reminder of her mission and her good deed. At least some one would benefit from her fading life. As she studied herself in the boarding room's small vanity mirror and smiled at Run Away Feather, a tribal girl who had married into a middling trading family at some distant outpost. Yaki liked her skin. Not the white innocence of the Flower, cloaked in trusses of fabric that made the sword little more than ornament nor purely functional trousers of the Fire Fox’s uniforms. In this dress, with the knee high boots and the sword on her hip, she looked like an adventurer from the stories. Still, today she didn't have to talk to anyone. She accented the outfit with bone and stone beaded choker with a gold pendent invoking the Grand Torii. Mother would call her gaudy as a peacock and Yaki half expected to hear a shrill command to put on something more regal at a moment.
Even Guro's hungry eyes couldn't pierce her good mood. He looked her up and down when they met downstairs. "You’re not going to hide well looking like that. That's an outfit that's looking for trouble."
Yaki regarded him coldly, but inwardly she smiled. "Trouble is what the sword is for, see that you don't wind up on the end of it."
The dragon sworn rolled his eyes at the threat, which at least meant they weren't on her breasts. "Rapier's fine and pretty against another rapier, but I see the folks that mean business in these parts carry katanas. I don't care how good you are with that toy girl, good katana will slice through that and you. Need thick steel to block that first blow." Guro patted the blade on his own belt, it sported a broad blade but short, barely over a foot long. A weapon custom made for fight in the tight passageways of a ship. It marked him as an airman.
A chuckle rolled out of Yaki, "You just keep on thinking that." She patted her own sword and reminding herself that she needed to get it repaired. No need to tell him how unfair this particular sword was against anyone who raised a blade in her direction. "Now you've found us a place?"
He split into a proud grin. "Signing the paperwork this afternoon. I didn't even get ripped off too badly."
"Then the morning is free." Yaki offered him her arm. "In that case, let’s go meet our foe this morning."
Straightening Guro took her arm, "Lead the way."
The industrial district was not far from their boarding house, which was barely far enough from the docks to be considered respectable. The Golden hills mines had dried up over a century ago so all the metal had to be imported, whether traded over land through tribal pathways or mostly, brought by ship from small trading outposts, which acted as middle men between the tribes that controlled the mines that dotted the spine. Metal flowed into Golden Hills, while textiles, crystals and tools flowed out.
The great foundry, loomed over the industrial district like a great beast snoring smoke. Yaki and Guro walked toward in through streets nearly empty of foot traffic but dodging around small lift wood barges, floating a foot from the road. The buildings popped with the sound of wood slapping against wood, loom houses. In the summer heat, the walls of many of the factories, buildings had been taken down, allowing you to see the rows and rows of crystal powered looms weaving together brightly colored fabrics of every hue. In front of each an operator stood. In front of one, weaving together a scarlet red cloth so bright it seemed to emit light, a girl Yaki's age pressed her lips together in concentration, her hands rhythmically dancing over the control levers in front of her.
As they walked deeper into the district, the foul moist of scent of the paper mills and acrid scent of the tanneries filled the air. Torii gated the entrance to the paper markers, the symbol of the two thrones hung from each. Off all the factories it was the Steward's personal industry that looked the most haggard and lethargic. Most of the workers stood away from their vats and presses, mugs in hand. Beyond the shining Torii, the factories many surfaces were so in need of a coat of paint that islands of color floated in a sea of bare wood.
Stepping into the shadow of the foundry, the character of the place changed entirely. Their boots clopped on flat stone brick paths, the factories were skinned with stone and puffed foul vapors from their roofs. However, the traffic increased considerably, horse carriages drawn carriages mixed with the air barges and trades people hurried along the sides of the roads. All were pulsing around an occasional tourist, a Low River Family dressed in colorful shawls or Pair of long bearded men in Vallahan jackets, their eyes fixed on Foundry. The black brick dome that had been built by the command of the Great Wyrm when he ruled the continent a millennium ago. While castle spires may stretch higher and the Vahallans lived in a tree that contained a city, the Foundry stood as the largest building in Yaki's known world. WAs far as Yaki knew, it was still the single largest building in existence. They said the Great Wyrm use to curl his body around and peer down through the opening in the roof.
Guro stopped suddenly. His eyes rooted on a blacksmith beating on a piece of hot iron with a shout hammer. "Is that how..." He trailed off.
"How did you think most places work metal? That everyone had a dragon to do to it?" Yaki let herself tittered that the grizzled sailor's look of wonder. "Your Lord does it the same way, just..." For moment Yaki found herself back there, held down by those stone tendrils as they crawled through her chest, curling around her heart. Ka clink Ka clink Ka clink. The pain in her own chest flared and her back spasmed. It jarred her from the memory.
"Just what?" Guro asked.
"Nevermind. I don't want to talk about it." Yaki pulled away. "Stay here."
Guro flinched. "I can't stand here alone. I'll stick out like a sore thumb." He protested.
He had a point, Yaki scanned the area and spotted a grungy drinking establishment nestled between two factories. "Go there and stay put. I'm going to see if I can figure out if the quicksilver is in there.
"What are you going to do? Scale the wall?" Guro asked.
"I'm going to ask for a tour... very nicely. And it definitely won't work with you on my arm. Go have a drink and let me work."
Guro's fingers twitched as if they wanted to grab her. "Fine. Just don't get in trouble. And don't take too long!" His voice sharpened as Yaki pulled away.
"If I'm not back in two hours then play the wounded and worried husband. If I need more time I'll try to send a runner." Yaki started walking before she finished. Already pushing Guro's jealous eyes from her mind and mentally reaching for her masks as she threaded through the traffic. A road ran all the way around the Foundry an
d besides the three ship sized doors (Originally dragon sized doors) on one side, human sized entrances studded the circumference of the building. Yaki circled the building, a walk so long that her feet had begun to ache by the time she was through. Each of the sixteen entrances had at least two guards at them. Oddly a mix of watchmen blues and green naval uniforms. Not ideal but these things never were. Ideal would be one guard.
She stopped in front of one door that had strange sweetness to the air to it. Although it looked identical to all the others, it felt... promising. The two guards were both male at least. One slouched against the wall, while the other stood at attention eyes scanning the crowd. Yaki made a show of stopping to fish a rock out of her boot as she watched the doorway for a time and rehearsed how Run Away Feather would do this.
The eyes of attentive soldier found hers and she smiled back. She stuck her foot back into her boot and ground her heel into place and approached the soldiers with a sassy. Each wore a katana at on one hip and a hand cannon slung across their backs. "Heeey." Yaki drawled in Feather's slight country accent. "You two happen to know a good cobbler? I need some better boots." One could always use more boots.
The Attentive soldier licked his lips and looked around nervously as his fellow straightened. "Ah, sorry miss, we're on duty." The Attentive soldier said pointedly looking at the crowd behind her as his buddy ate her up with his eyes. Yaki turned to give him a good view. Yaki examined their feet, Mr. Slouchy wasn't wearing standard issue boots, they had the rough texture of spider hide instead of the smooth shine of mammalian leather. "Oooh. Where'd you get those clompers sir? I don't see the likes of those down south." South towards Valhalla, not Lyndon.
The soldier grinned. "Got these for from a Low River's tradesman. Not sure if he's still in the city, he's usually only here in the winter. Best pair of boots I ever owned."
"Ah pity. I've always wanted a pair of those. I didn't see a spider leather tannery on my walk today." Yaki Pouted prettily, resting herself against the low stone wall that swept up into the door.
He grinned, "Well nobody's figured out how to tame giant spiders, that be a gruesome thing. You from a northern post, surprised you don't get them there." His companion shot daggers at him.
"Too cold for spiders, Now Bear hide we got plenty of." Yaki wrinkled her nose. "Too many bears, Gotta be real careful hunting the brutes, the local tribe," Yaki wracked her brain for the names of the tribes beyond Low Rivers land, "The Waz, wear a lot of fur and kinda look like bears. So my daddy always said we gotta get real close first."
The man's eyes lit up. "You have hunting rights down there? Low Rivers doesn't give those out unless you run their gauntlet and take their marks."
Yaki made a see saw gesture with her hand. "My mama's Waz so they let my pa hunt as long as I or Mama went with him. Papa wasn't a great hunter but I got some stories."
"Could you be a guide?" He asked.
"Course, if you’re a friend." Integrally, Yaki scrambled to remember the name of a trading post down that way but mother had prowled lightly in the region, you could never be sure if a post had more loyalty to Golden Hills or Valhalla in the area and that made the posts dangerous for privateers.
"You’re going to get us in trouble. Again." The stiff one said through his teeth.
"Aw, we're just talking Cal." His hunting friend said. "Not like she's asking us to let her in."
"Well I wouldn't mind a peek inside." Yaki admitted. "My Pa always talked about the Foundry in hushed tones. He had an uncle who showed him inside once."
"No way." The stiff-backed guard said. "This is the precious metals area, they'll skin us alive if we let anyone through."
Yaki shifted her stance forward, cocked her head at just the right angle to let his eyes slide down the curve of her neck. "Oh come on. Please? I just want to see a little bit, you can hold my hand." Pressing up so he looked down on her. "Then after your shift, I'll owe you both drinks." She could see temptation flitter through his dark eyes. She had him. "We'll maybe just a peek."
"Naw." Said the hunter.
It took all of Yaki's willpower not to curse. Turning, she caught a sour look on the man's face.
He shook his head. "Gotta have papers to get through. Even for peeks."
Yaki kept her sultry look in place, mentally kicking herself for changing her target. "Maybe for a bit of coi-"
"No." He shook his head. "Nobody without papers gets in. No matter how pretty. Or rich."
Yaki smiled, conversationally retreated with empty promises and then left the soldiers with her burning cheeks.
She circled around and tried a different gate but got nothing but cold stares in response.
Guro raised a mug of some foul smelling lager as came back to drinking hut, now bustling with workers swigging beer and eating their boxed lunches. She ignored the rooms eyes on her and sat heavily across from him. "What's the matter? Fluttering those pretty eyes not the universal key you thought it would be?"
"Shut up Guro." Yaki snapped and ordered herself a beer. The cool beer felt good on passing through the heat in her chest and then settled in to watch the bustle about her. That should have worked, she thought sourly. If the soldiers hadn't been paired perhaps. Now she'd probably be the talk of the guards after the shift.
There was only one thing for it. She'd need to find a fool with papers.
Chapter 11
"Sir, I believe this is yours?" Shuri unfolded a somewhat crumpled piece of paper in front of the Steward, revealing the crippled wolf drawing, its lines smudged and blurry. It bowed, the best it was able. "I caught it lurking around in the tapestries outside the throne room, the tigers were stalking it.
The Steward nodded as he studied the wolf and pulled a pen from a small cubby hidden in the arm of the throne. While protocol kept the chair he spent the majority of his hours in looking plain, each generation of Stewards had added their own hidden comforts to it.
"Guide my pen." The Steward lowered his pen to the paper and closed his eyes. Breathing out, he felt his fingers move to their own whims. Circling, sinuous lines followed by hashing, an inspiration. Only as his lungs began to burn did he remember himself and let it go. He breathed the crisp mountain air and examined the drawings before him. The Wolf lay on its back, X's for eyes. Over him stood a thin woman in a short kimono, one had rested on the rapier she wore at her waist. She glared out of the paper with thin slits for eyes. The drawing, done a single breath, lacked detail but it had captured something essential in the figure's pose. Something familiar. Was the girl a Lydon spy? Great heaven, the Steward knew that the City probably harbored enough of those. Why would this Girl stir the grand torii?
He tried to add some detail to her but the drawing deftly dodged his pen as if it were a blade, drawing her sword in response. The pose drew yet another ring of familiarity. Definitely a Golden Hill fencing style. Stabbing his pen toward her, the drawing first parried then danced away with a pirouette. That narrowed it down, to be sure, the Steward sketched a younger version of himself clad in dueling leathers. Himself and the woman circled each other briefly before their sword clashed in the center of the page. The drawing quickly lost cohesion as a cloud of dust and limbs rolled around the page. The Steward snorted, he had never been very good at fight scenes and discarded the paper into the brazier next to his throne. It burst into flames and soft howl of relief.
Shuri waited, a single brow raised.
"I want the names and details of all the woman who departed those seven ships three days ago. Note particularly those who wore a kimono and carried a rapier." The Steward ordered.
"Do you wish them detained?" Shuri answered with a bow.
"Not yet. I want reports on them all."
"Yes sir." Shuri glided toward the door as the Steward stood. He could not shake the certainty that he knew the girl in the drawing. Whoever she was, she didn't want him to know she was here. That much was very clear. He smiled to himself, whomever she was, she'd find that keeping the Steward in the
dark was something that did not happen often in the Golden hills.
Chapter 12
Smile, be beautiful and the world will open before you, Mistress Mana had said again and again. Yaki did not see anything but her own failure on the way back to the boarding house. Her mistakes swelled before her with every step. Asking her favor too soon was the big one. She should have been slower, days maybe. Meeting the Soldiers for drinks, leading that one on with tales of hunting. A quick trip to a map maker and she could have adapted so many of the hunting stories told by the Low Rivers men on the Fox Fire. And.. And And! The possibilities spiraled before her. All better, smarter than what she had done, each hammering home her own stupidity. On top of it, her heart still hurt.
A shake brought her back to the world around her. A crowded street. Guro squinting at her face. "Are you alright?"
"Fine." Yaki jerked away. She fingers ached to slap him. Nothing was okay. Ishe stood to lose an eye or worse to his Iron cursed lord. Now the first stage of her stupid plan had failed. His face blurred and she wiped the tears away. Make smeared on the back of her hand. Hissing in frustration, she felt her cheek and met the gritty paste of tear ruined makeup. She'd been walking through the streets crying that a betrayed street whore? Shame piled on to the crushing frustration and Yaki felt her throat hitch. There would be no stopping it now. How long had it been?
"Hey." Guro touched her shoulder, "We're-"
"Don't touch me!" Yaki pulled her shoulder away, taking a step forward, then another, a third step and she was running. Guro shouted something behind her but Yaki ignored it, ignored everything. Her shoulder slammed into someone and she spun away. She plowed straight through a black clad mourning procession, she could feel the bad luck plaster to her face like invisible spider webbing. It made her laugh, high and mad but only to hold the sobs at bay. Her boots pounded through the earthen streets, a wave in search of a safe beach to break upon. A subtle breeze pulled at her and she followed its promise changing course.
Dragon's Cage Page 5