by eden Hudson
Though Lysander never showed any exhaustion or sluggishness from doing twice the work of anyone aboard, his wiry frame hardened, his square jaw sharpening to a razor’s edge, and his mood darkened more every day. He pretended to be in good spirits while the other sailors were about, but Koida often caught him in the doorway of the sleeping quarters between duties, watching Hush’s gently swaying hammock as if to make certain she wouldn’t suddenly disappear.
“Lysander Foreign-Born does not like the wise physician suffering,” Cold Sun said one evening when Koida brought it up. “He knows it is only seasickness, but I think he fears all the same that she will not recover.”
Nael swooped low over the deck, dropping a dead fish beside Koida. The ray had begun bringing her these gifts shortly after they set sail. Cold Sun theorized that the demon beast was attempting to feed her because it thought she could not feed herself, the way a domesticated cat would bring its human owner rats, but Koida thought it more likely that the beast was trying to make friends. It never came close enough to touch, but always seemed to hover after leaving her a fish, as if it were waiting to see that she was pleased with it.
She picked the fish up and smiled at the ray, bowing. Nael’s wings rippled, then it darted off toward the horizon.
After she had deposited the fish in a barrel kept on deck for what the sailors caught in their down time, she returned to Cold Sun’s side.
“I should offer to return the glass moon serpent to Lysander,” she said, only half-joking. “That would cure his worries.”
The corner of Cold Sun’s mouth twitched upward. “I do not believe you could insult Lysander any more than if you did so. He takes great pride in the belief that he feels nothing. In any case, it would be wisest to keep the serpent. At least until you are more adept at controlling your own mood.”
Koida laughed. “If I were as sensitive as Lysander, I believe I would take offense to that.”
She couldn’t claim Cold Sun was wrong, however. Not a day had gone by yet when the lavaglass moon broadsword didn’t fight to emerge, and it was growing harder to hold her Stone Soul every day. Though there was wide-open water in every direction and an endless bowl of sky above, it felt as if the ship were growing smaller and smaller. She had never spent so much time around others without a reprieve. Hardly a moment went by when a sailor, the quartermaster, or the captain wasn’t looking over her shoulder, with Cook being the worst of the lot.
The cantankerous woman grated upon Koida’s nerves more and more, leaving the lavaglass itching to surface at the slightest provocation. Just the other day, Captain Singh had requested that the new ship’s boy begin bringing his meals to the captain’s quarters beneath the half deck, but Cook found so much extra work for Koida to do around mealtimes that she nearly had to toss the food through his door before sprinting off to the next task. On top of this, no matter how hard Koida tried, these endless tasks were never accomplished to Cook’s satisfaction, and each failure only earned Koida more work as punishment. She worked through the night on several occasions, leaving precious little time for sleeping, let alone training.
Pernicious, too, grew restless and more bad-tempered than he already was. In the rare moments Koida found to herself, she snuck down to his stall only to find the half-demon raring for a fight or an all-night run they couldn’t take in the middle of the sea. When Pernicious saw that she couldn’t free him, the destrier would either lash out, kicking the bars of the stall, or turn his face toward the corner and sulk. He stopped eating anything but the blood oranges she picked out of her own daily rum ration and brought him, and though demon beasts didn’t require food like natural beasts, Koida still worried. If not for the threat of flogging with Rila’s bladed Ro whip, she might have tried to sneak more of the whole fruits down from the larder.
She tried now and again to replicate the cycling patterns she had seen in her dream in the hopes she would see Raijin again, but she was so exhausted that she would no sooner shut her eyes than she would be startled awake by Cook bellowing for her to get off her lazy backside.
On the twelfth day of their journey, just after the series of pops announcing the second watch, a pair of booming explosions sounded on deck. Startled, Koida looked up from feeding the fire in the swaying stove.
“Signal cannons,” Cook said. “That’ll be the halfway point. We put in to Pilau Iri for the night. But don’t get any funny ideas about skipping out on your chores to see the sights. Step ashore without my leave, and I’ll strop you good when you get back.”
“Yes, Cook,” Koida muttered. She hadn’t even known they were stopping until Cook said so. She had assumed all ships traveled straight through until they made their destination. Now that she knew going ashore was a possibility, the thought of escaping Cook’s unbearable personality for even a few hours seemed almost worth the beating.
When the ship had finally docked and the rumble of off-loading had begun, Rila came down to the galley.
“The girl can’t go ashore,” Cook snapped before the quartermaster said a word. “She’s got too much to tend to.”
Rila raised a hairless brow. “With half the men going ashore for the night?”
“You think I don’t know the work in my own galley? She stays.”
The lavaglass in Koida’s left arm prickled, eager to emerge as her moon broadsword. She ground her teeth and stabbed at the fire with more force than necessary, taking her anger out on the embers rather than let the lavaglass surface.
“We’ll let the girl decide,” Rila said, smirking as she turned to Koida. “Captain Singh needs an assistant for shore errands. Do you want the task or do you want me to find someone else?”
Koida glanced at Cook. The larger woman was glaring daggers through her. There was a tinge of something else in Cook’s beady gaze, though. Was that fear? Hatred? The woman gave a threatening shake of her head as if to say Koida had better not answer.
Turning from the quartermaster to the cook, Koida executed two perfectly subservient bows to hide the spiteful smile tugging at her lips.
“I’m sure whatever assistance the honored captain needs is more urgent than galley work, revered Cook, especially on a day when we’re serving half the usual number of men or less. I’ll attend him, then finish whatever goes undone here when I return.”
Cook slammed her Ro cleaver into the table.
“Singh’s waiting for you on the dock,” Rila said.
Petty glee flooded Koida, and a wide grin stretched across her face as she rushed out of the galley. The look on Cook’s face alone was well worth whatever retribution the irritable woman doled out later.
Out in the brilliant sunlight, Cold Sun, Lysander, and Hush had joined the line of sailors off-loading crates. The men didn’t see her, but Hush sent Koida a friendly bow as she ran past. The silent physician had lost too much weight to look well, but she seemed in good spirits now that they weren’t on the open sea. Koida responded with a quick bow of her own, shallow and rushed enough to pass for a Uktena greeting, then continued on her way. She didn’t want to take the chance that Cook might change Rila’s mind before Koida left with the captain.
Singh was on the dock with a small round man in fine silk robes and a towering black hat bearing her father’s imperial seal. Koida faltered, stumbling to a stop several span away. She hadn’t realized that they were still within the borders of the Shyong San Empire. What if the official recognized her? She didn’t know the man’s face, but she rarely paid attention to the officials of the outlying areas, as they were usually only in residence when her father was.
Certainly if he had yet to change to the Rising Phoenix Emperor’s seal, then he could not have been to the Sun Palace recently. He may not even realize that a new emperor had taken the White Jade Throne.
And yet Koida couldn’t bring herself to approach him openly. She wouldn’t stake Raijin’s life on such a senseless gamble. She ducked her head and sidled up to the official’s side, keeping her body half-turned away.
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Captain Singh caught her eye, raising half of his single brow, but he continued talking to the official without comment. “...and two thousand crates of blood oranges from the Horned Serpent Valley. My quartermaster will have the final tariffs for you to collect when the negotiations are complete and all payments have been made. We will remain docked in the harbor until tomorrow afternoon.”
“See that you do,” the official snapped. “Ask the sunken vessels at the bottom of the harbor how we treat ships who try to cut line and run before paying their duties.”
“I’m familiar with Pilau Iri’s port policies,” Captain Singh answered drily.
As the official stalked off, Koida turned so that she was facing away from the man. He took up a post at the foot of the gangplank and began tallying crates as they passed.
Captain Singh gave a humorless chuckle. “And he’s going to count each and every one of them.”
“Apologies, venerable Captain,” Koida said, “but perhaps not all captains are as honest as you.”
“That may be.” Singh took a moment to study Koida, his eyes roving critically over her worn and torn riding clothes. “I have a number of important errands to run today in the better parts of town. Do you have any clothing that doesn’t look as if it’s been hanging from the sail beam for the past two weeks?”
Koida shifted uncomfortably. The only other clothing she had was a set of Uktena furs, and they were unsuitable for polite society. Worse, she knew she must smell at least as bad as she looked; she hadn’t found a moment to bathe since leaving dry land.
“A-apologies—”
“No number of apologies will sew you a set of clothing from thin air,” Singh interrupted curtly. He took off at a brisk pace down the dock. “The fabric row isn’t far from here. We’ll stop there first, then we’ll finally be able to get on with the day.”
Cheeks burning, Koida hurried to catch up with the captain’s long strides. She wanted to apologize for inconveniencing him, but he seemed to have had enough of her contrition.
In all her years of dressing for royal feasts and ceremonies, Koida had never been in a clothier’s shop. All of the tailors and seamstresses had come to the Sun Palace at her convenience. Pilau Iri’s aptly named Fabric Row, however, was an endless parade of sartorial shops, sparkling masterpieces of embroidery and beadwork hanging over their doors to advertise the wares inside.
Singh seemed to select one of these shops at random and ducked inside, Koida following like a shadow. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she found herself crowded by stacks of fabric and tables covered in robe components. None matched the eye-catching beauty of the pieces hanging outside, but they were all of obvious quality. She clasped her work-roughened hands together and tried to make herself smaller so she wouldn’t accidentally rub against an expensive piece and get dirt on it.
“Ah, Singh,” a squinting man with a string tape hanging over his shoulders called. “It has been many months since the discerning captain has graced my shop. What shall I find for you today?”
Koida had never heard a merchant’s solicitous speech tone in person before. It was a strange combination of the formal admiration for one of higher rank and the warm, familiar tone of a friend.
“Replacements for these rags,” Singh said, indicating Koida with a disdainful glance. “Something that won’t get her tossed out of the Breakwater on sight.”
The merchant came closer, inspecting Koida through slivered eyes. After a few moments’ examination, he turned back to the captain.
“She is a natural girl or she needs help being a girl?” he asked.
“Natural,” Singh answered.
“Of course.” The merchant hurried to the back of his shop.
Koida watched him go, bewildered and embarrassed by the turn the conversation had taken. Was she so filthy that the man hadn’t even been able to tell she was female? She stared down at the floor, surreptitiously picking some of the ashes she hadn’t noticed before out of her fingernails.
“I believe the tasteful captain will agree that these robes will suit the girl nicely,” he said, coming back with a set of plum silks a shade darker than Koida’s eyes. They were nowhere near as fine as the robes she had worn in the Sun Palace, but they were far nicer than her tattered riding clothes. “Given a proper bath, that is.”
Singh nodded. “That will do.”
He paid the merchant without discussion or haggling, and the man wrapped the robes in paper.
“Gratitude, discerning Captain!” the merchant called, bowing deeply.
Singh gave him a curt nod and ducked out of the shop, leaving Koida once again to run to catch up.
Chapter Nineteen
LAND OF THE IMMORTALS
As he battled the akane, Raijin was startled to realize that each lightning strike consumed a measure of his stolen bloodstained Ro. The strikes were strong enough to kill the smallest akane outright and stun most of the larger ones for long enough to attack and often kill them. Each fallen akane added its life force to Raijin’s pool of stolen Ro, but the amount they replenished was less than the amount he used with each lightning strike.
The lightning was incredibly powerful, but wasteful. He had never before used a technique that spent Ro without returning it to his heartcenter. More akane kept flooding in and adding their whispering numbers to the crush, each seemingly larger and more vicious than the last. To simply survive, he was forced to use the sizzling, crackling electricity until his heartcenter was empty again.
With no lightning strikes to stun his targets, Raijin was forced to fall back entirely on the demon beast’s instincts. It was brutal, close fighting, and as dangerous for Raijin as it was for the akane attacking him. The white fox twins had to join the fray or risk losing him to the creatures’ needle-studded jaws.
When finally the last akane fell, landing with a thud that shook the entire passageway and sent dirt raining down from the high ceiling, Raijin collapsed beside it. He lay on a carpet of corpses, their bodies still warm, unable to bring himself to move.
The guai-ray sensed the twins nearby, their heartcenters nearly full. If their mysterious weapons had any of the Ro in their bodies, then it had cost them far less than what they had gained.
Raijin turned onto his back, his chest heaving from the battle.
“Your way of fighting is much more efficient than mine,” Raijin observed.
“Of course it is,” Kitsu said, shoving a pile of carcasses together and curling up on top of them. One at a time, the earliest killed of the creatures had disintegrated and blown away on an unfelt breeze, but there were plenty remaining. “You’re still a Tier 1. The immortal energy here is nothing like what you encountered in the mortal world. This is concentrated with the age of eternity.”
“It’s always dying to escape,” Tsune said, turning in a series of circles before lying down. The guai-ray sensed the white fox pulling up a corpse like a blanket. “Every time you use it, you lose more than you hold onto. It won’t be until you reach gravitational strength at Tier 4 that your heartcenter will grow strong enough to cling to more than it lets go of.”
Raijin let out a long breath and let his muscles go completely limp. After that endless battle, just a Tier 1. It would take centuries to climb high enough to travel between worlds.
“How far do we have left to go before we’re out?” he asked the twins.
Leathery akane flesh rustled as Kitsu sat up. “You want to leave this place?”
“We thought you wanted to fight akane until you had climbed to wanderstar,” Tsune said.
Raijin almost laughed. Then he realized that the twins’ signatures were showing perfect sincerity. This was no joke. He closed his eyes and breathed until he could speak without erupting all over in crackling, angry electricity.
“I need to get out as well,” he said slowly.
“You should have said so.” There was a flutter of movement as Tsune threw up both hands in disgust. “We passed the way out days ago.�
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“It wouldn’t have done him any good,” Kitsu argued. “The Grandfather Spirit guards those depths.”
“What used to be the Grandfather Spirit, you mean.”
“He would’ve been killed immediately, and us with him.”
Raijin sat up. He had acquired so many injuries, cuts, bites, scratches, and bruises since the last time he’d died that they all seemed to run into one, which made it easier in a way to ignore the flares of pain that came with movement. When everything hurt, it was almost as if nothing hurt because the entire body was at the same level of pain.
“How did the two of you make it inside past this Grandfather Spirit if he’s so powerful?” Raijin asked.
“We didn’t,” Kitsu said. “We know the way out, and we know better than to use it.”
“We jumped down the same hole you fell in,” Tsune said.
“And almost landed on you.”
“The bottom of a pit isn’t a very smart place to sleep.”
“Our plan was to pop in and ask you for help, then travel to the mortal lands, then back to a safe point in the Land of Immortals.”
“Like going out the back of the den so you can come in the front entrance and get to the food in the storeroom without having to pass Mother or Father Fox in the sitting chamber.”
“Which would have worked if you hadn’t extorted us into helping you.”
Raijin struggled to his feet. “We need to go back.”
“No,” Tsune said, “we need to rest.”
“I don’t have time to rest,” Raijin insisted. “I don’t know how much time passes in the mortal world for every hour that passes here, but my friends could already be beyond my help. I have to get back to them.”
“How exactly do you plan to go back to the mortal realm without reaching the sixth tier, Thunderer?” Kitsu asked.
“How did I do it before?” Raijin asked. “You said the Dragon destroyed my heartcenter with a meteoric shatter. If I couldn’t even hold Ro, I must have found some other way to get to the mortal world without it.”