by Cindy Lin
Inu ruffled his shaggy hair. “You got it all out! Thank you, Earth Snake. If I never see sand again, it will be too soon.”
Crouching, Usagi scooped up a handful, letting the fine white grains run through her fingers. They sparkled in the sunlight. “You brought a whole dune back with you! Did they really dance?”
“Twice a day, every day,” said Saru. “Each time the winds kicked up, the sand would start moving, and it was hard to see or even stay upright.”
“So how did you manage to find the flute?” asked Usagi.
“We were looking for markers that might have been left behind,” said Saru. “The problem is, the Dancing Dunes are constantly shifting. We searched for days. Finally, we found part of a long stake that bore the mark of the Snake Warrior and the Twelve, but it had been broken off. Thank the gods, Inu caught the scent of the rest of it, buried in the sand.”
The Dog Heir shook his head. “We had to dig down deep. It would have been a lot easier if we’d had Rana with us.”
Blushing, Rana ducked her head and toed the pile of sand. “Can I have this?” she asked.
“Take it!” Saru laughed. “I’m with Inu—I’d be happy never to see sand again.”
Rana hurried off and fetched a bucket. She tilted it on its side, and the sand swirled into the container. Watching the grains follow her every command was like watching Nezu with his water gift.
“What are you going to do with all that?” Tora asked curiously.
With a smile, Rana shrugged. “I don’t know yet, but it’s too pretty to throw away.”
“It’s not so pretty when it’s in your eyes,” snorted Inu.
Nezu slung an arm around him and Saru. “So are you two going to complain about the sand all day, or are we going to get a look at what you suffered for?”
“All right, all right,” said Inu. “Keep your tea in your cup.”
They crowded around as he and Saru shrugged off their packs and settled themselves on the platform edging the courtyard. Inu dug into his backbundle and pulled out a battered metal box with a tarnished coiled snake as its clasp. He opened the box to reveal a long, cloth-wrapped object. Unwinding the wrapping, he exposed the flute. Made of lacquered bamboo, the end was carved to look like the head of a snake, its mouth open wide in a hiss. The twelve zodiac animals were painted up and down the sides. “It used to be carried by the Snake Warrior,” Inu said. He smiled at Rana. “We’ll have to teach you to play, Heirling.”
“Do you think it really works?” asked Tora.
Goru reached out to touch it, his finger nearly as thick as the flute. “Did you try playing it?”
With a frown, Inu pushed his shaggy hair out of his eyes. “Not yet,” he admitted. “We wanted to bring it to the safety of the shrine first.”
“It’s better to test the more dangerous Treasures here,” added Saru.
The Dog Heir looked around and raised an eyebrow. “Shall I play it now?”
With nervous titters, Tora and Rana nodded, while Nezu and Goru enthusiastically agreed. “I have to admit I’m curious,” confessed Usagi. “Just go easy on us.”
Putting the flute to his lips, Inu nodded. He took a breath, then began to play. A warm, low note sounded, and as it washed over Usagi, she felt her limbs grow numb, as if they weren’t connected to her body. The note turned into a soothing lullaby, one that Inu often played before they went to bed, but this time its effect was instantaneous. Usagi slumped to the ground, the world going black.
The next thing she knew, a bright jaunty tune was ringing through her head, and she was on her feet, wide awake. Usagi still couldn’t quite feel her arms and legs, but her feet were tapping and kicking while her hands waved wildly. The others were dancing about the courtyard alongside her, while Inu stood on the wooden platform, playing the flute with a look of glee.
“What just happened?” she cried to Tora, who was dancing in a little circle.
“That is definitely the Treasure.” Tora’s eyes were round. “I think he put us to sleep.”
“Well, we’re certainly not sleeping now!” Usagi bowed to Inu, and then bowed to the others, who bowed in return.
Nezu rolled his eyes. “Is that really necessary?” he shouted. Inu tootled on the flute in reply, and Nezu bowed again. “Oi!” he cried indignantly. Rana giggled, and a dimple appeared in Inu’s cheek.
They danced in formation, moving back and forth in complicated patterns. All the while, there were exclamations of awe and nervous laughter.
“I’m trying to stop but I can’t!”
“I can’t even feel my legs!”
“Me neither!”
It reminded Usagi of the various holds that could be applied on pressure points all over the body—she’d experienced the freeze hold before, and it had been frightening to lose all control, to be at the mercy of someone else. A drop of sweat trickled into her eyes, and she blinked at the sting, powerless to wipe her face. She clasped hands with Rana and danced round and round, unable to pause even as she grew tired. Usagi felt the stirrings of alarm. “I think that’s enough, Inu,” she called over her shoulder.
“I don’t usually move like this,” huffed Goru as he leaped about on tiptoe and twirled. “I’m ready for this to be over.”
But the Dog Heir didn’t seem to hear, and the more he played, the more Usagi’s insides clenched. She tried to get his attention over the lively whistling of the flute. “Inu?” He kept going, the notes pouring out faster and faster, their steps becoming frenzied.
She could stand it no longer. Panic rose to the surface and burst out of Usagi in a shriek. “Inu, STOP!”
The music came to an abrupt halt as Inu looked up, slack-jawed. Usagi and the others stopped dancing. She felt her legs give way beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground, as did the others, panting.
“Scabs, Inu,” groaned Nezu. The Rat Heir rolled over and rubbed his legs. “She told you to go easy!”
Shamefaced, Inu raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry—I thought everyone was having fun. Weren’t you all laughing?”
“Only in the beginning,” growled Tora. She lay back on the stone tiles. “I will never question the authenticity of that flute again.”
Heart pounding, Usagi rested her forehead on her knees. Goru put a giant hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She raised her head. Inu had jumped down from the platform, hangdog and worried. Saru was patting Rana’s back as she retched. “I’ll be fine,” Usagi replied tightly. Inu should have listened to her. “What about Snake Girl?”
Saru gave Inu a reproachful look. “A little too much spinning.”
“It’s more powerful than I remembered.” Chastened, Inu wrapped up the flute and put it in its case, snapping the coiled-snake clasp shut. “I’m putting this away. Sorry, everyone.”
Nezu shakily got to his feet. “Well. After all that whirling about, I think we need a little something to settle our stomachs. I’ll make us rice porridge and we’ll drink some honey-ginger tea.”
Over the meal, they heard more about the flute mission’s discoveries in the Dancing Dunes.
“We thought the dunes would be deserted, but Inu caught the scent of people living nearby,” said Saru. “And when we went to investigate, we found a group of younglings—all with Earth gifts.”
The Dog Heir wolfed down a tea-stewed egg. “Their gifts allowed them to live among the dunes without being bothered by the sand. They’d dug a network of deep pits that sheltered against the winds. With their powers, the walls of the pits stayed intact.”
“That’s amazing,” marveled Tora. “Usagi and I hid with a dozen younglings after the war ended, but every one of us ended up being caught by Strikers.”
“Almost everyone,” Usagi reminded her. “Thanks to you and Saru, I escaped.” She put another hard-boiled egg on Inu’s plate. “So did you take these dune younglings to Yunja?”
He shook his head. “We offered, but they weren’t interested in going to Sun Moon Lake. Th
ey’re a group of five, all around our age or so—the youngest was an Earth Ox—and they’ve been living undetected there for years.” Inu gave a wry smile. “They’re pretty tough, the Dunelings. They were ready to bury us alive when we found them.”
“They hurled hot sand from their firepits at us.” The Monkey Heir poured herself another cup of tea. “Thank the gods we had the Fire Cloak to shield us. Once we proved that we meant them no harm, they were actually quite kind.”
Rana bit into a pickled sour plum and smacked her lips. “I probably wouldn’t want to leave the dunes either, if I felt safe there.”
“You left the Palace of the Clouds,” said Goru. “That place is a fortress.”
“Yes, but not for our protection,” Rana replied. “All those armed Guard and Dragonstrikers are for Lord Druk—and if there’s ever an attack, even the youngest cadets are expected to fight for him.”
“Speaking of the palace, the Tigress needs us. There are only two Treasures left to find, and we first need to track them down so we can help her. Where should we look next?” Usagi asked.
“Our traitorous Ram Heir always insisted that the Conjurer wasn’t far from the Eastern Mines,” said Nezu. “But even though Tupa helped hide it, we never found the hammer. It drove him mad—maybe that’s why he joined the Blue Dragon.”
“I don’t think it will be any easier to find now. The Eastern Mines have only expanded, and the number of Guard will be high,” Inu pointed out.
“What about the Ring of Obscurity?” asked Tora. “Nezu said it was last seen on Pom, the 46th Tiger Warrior.”
Saru turned her teacup in her hands, thinking. “Pom and his Heir took their final stand in Woodwing, a town not far from Butterfly Kingdom on the eastern side of the island. Presumably the ring was lost there.”
“Butterfly Kingdom!” Rana’s dark eyes sparkled. “My mother used to tell me stories about that valley. It’s in Flower Song Province, where she was born.”
Slurping up the last of the porridge, Goru wiped his mouth and raised his hand. “I vote that we try for the ring first, since you’ve had no luck hunting for the hammer. Besides, a town near Butterfly Kingdom sounds a lot better than the Eastern Mines.”
Tora’s snaggleteeth glinted. “I second that vote. Let’s go on a little trip to Woodwing.”
Mirror Precept: The Mirror of Elsewhere should only be used for brief stretches under the watch of others, lest the user lose track of time and self.
Gowa the Third, 19th Dog Warrior, would forego meals and sleep to gaze in the Mirror of Elsewhere, and became alarmingly thin and short-tempered. When he could no longer put the mirror down to practice mind-the-mind, it was clear he had lost his ability to serve as Warrior. The Treasure had to be prised from his hands. He did not take kindly to losing possession of the mirror and was banished from Mount Jade. His Heir, Jindo the First, assumed the mantle of Dog Warrior, and this new precept was issued.
—Excerpted from the “Metal” chapter in The Twelve Treasures, from Compendium of Consequences, Volume I
Chapter 9
Venom and Visions
A SQUEAK AND A BANG echoed through the sleeping quarters. Usagi awoke with a start. Raising her head, she squinted through the dark. The long room was still. The only noises were coming from the snoring lumps in their bedrolls, neatly lined across a platform covered in thick straw matting. Squeak. Bang. One of the latticed wooden shutters was creaking in the breeze and knocking against the window frame. With a groan, Usagi got up and went to secure the shutter. She glanced out the window and froze.
Tora was crossing the courtyard, padding across the stone tiles with Kumo beside her. The moon was past its apex and sinking toward the horizon, signaling the hour of the Tiger. What was she doing up before dawn—and where was she going? Frowning, Usagi stepped around the snorfling mountain that was Goru, slid past a curled-up, softly whistling Rana, and tiptoed out.
When she got to the courtyard, it was empty. But over the musical sighs of the Singing Bamboo, Usagi caught the sound of Kumo’s purr. She followed the cloud leopard’s rumbling to the Great Hall, where the massive doors were ajar. Usagi slipped inside, and in the dim cavernous space, she saw Tora at the chest of Treasures, the cloud leopard flopped at her feet. Kumo got up when he saw Usagi, purring louder.
“Are you looking at the Mirror of Elsewhere?”
Startled, Tora hunched over something cupped in her hands. Her eyes met Usagi’s. Guiltily, she revealed the mirror in her palm. “I thought it might help. I keep having these strange dreams.” In the moonlight slanting through the high windows, her snaggleteeth gleamed.
Usagi sighed. “Is this about your father again?”
“What if it is?” Tora shrugged. “Something’s going on—I can feel it. I just need to figure out what.” Her jaw set. “Don’t look at me like that. If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t even know that the Tigress was still alive.”
“Finding out about the Tigress was an accident,” Usagi reminded her.
Tora put her hands on her hips. “So it doesn’t count? Maybe I didn’t exactly know about the Tigress, but I was the first to discover that she wasn’t dead.” She began to pace. “Look, in my dreams I keep seeing my family, and the Mirror once showed me something that must have been about my father. I’m not going to stop until I figure out what it is.” She turned her attention back to the polished disk in her hand. “Besides, how can you not want to use this? You can look for anything with this mirror. You can explore the whole world.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Usagi warned. “You won’t want to do anything else but look in that thing. That’s why it’s not good to use it too much. At least you should have someone around to stop you when you’ve been staring at it too long.”
“I can stop whenever I want.” Tora deposited the mirror back in the chest and closed its drawer with a huff. “Come on, Kumo.” The cloud leopard stretched and yawned, then followed Tora as she stalked out of the Great Hall.
Frowning, Usagi contemplated the chest of Treasures. Could the mirror really have shown Tora her father when he’d been gone for so many years? It was hard to believe, but then again, they hadn’t expected to see the Tigress alive either. Usagi decided to take a look, dismissing her own warning to Tora. She was a Warrior Heir, after all, and had used the Mirror of Elsewhere many times. She knew how to control herself.
Usagi slid the shining disk out of its drawer. She gazed into it, trying to recall Tora’s father through hazy memories. She had been only seven and Tora eight when the invaders had come and rounded up all the adults with powers. But he had been the blacksmith in their town, and Usagi’s father had often taken his woodcarving tools to him for fixes and sharpening. She struggled to remember the blacksmith’s face. He had been a Metal Snake, more than ten years older than Usagi’s father. Tora’s four big brothers, all of whom had been blessed with metal gifts, had worked alongside the blacksmith in a foundry that Usagi remembered as being quite hot. She tried to feel the heat on her skin. . . .
The image in the mirror shifted, changing from a reflection of the Great Hall to the burned-out shell of the smithy, its furnace smashed across the stone floor.
“No, no, no,” she muttered impatiently. It was the blacksmith she was trying to see. But her mind kept drifting back to the memory of arriving at the blacksmith’s shop with her father, his chisels and saws wrapped in a square of leather, and running off with Tora to play. The mirror clouded and cleared, showing Tora back in the sleeping quarters, Kumo curled at her feet.
Usagi gave up. “Spit and spleen.” It wasn’t working. Or maybe that was all that was left to see. She turned the disk over and over in her fingers, fighting an old impulse. It had been a long time since she’d checked in on Uma. After her sister had chosen to stay with the Blue Dragon, Usagi had avoided looking in the mirror for months, too afraid of what her sister had become. If she asked to see Uma in the mirror now, what would it show her?
After a moment’s hesitatio
n, she returned the Treasure to its drawer. She wasn’t ready to know. She wondered if Tora was just longing to believe that her father was alive, so much so that she imagined seeing him. Usagi couldn’t even look at her sister, let alone ask the mirror for a view of her parents. The last thing she wanted to be shown was the giant mound where they were buried with so many others.
The next morning, when Usagi got up, Tora was nowhere to be seen. Usagi ate her morning meal quickly, cramming down a steamed turnip cake and gulping a cup of sweetened milky tea before joining Inu and Rana by the weapons wall in the Great Hall, where they were in preparations for the next mission. Rana sat on the sparring mats and sorted metal arrow tips, separating them into piles of pointed cones, flat diamond shapes, dagger-like blades and little spade heads. “Which ones did you want poisoned, Inu?” she asked.
The Dog Heir looked up from the bamboo arrow shaft he was oiling and considered the piles Rana had made. “The long-range points.”
While Usagi helped Inu prepare a bundle of arrow shafts, Rana carefully spit a bit of venom into a small dish, then began dipping the metal cones into the venom. After she had been on Mount Jade for a while, Rana’s animal talent of producing poisonous venom had emerged, much like Usagi’s elemental gift with wood—but the discovery had been rather unpleasant.
At their Harvest Moon feast, when Goru had gobbled all the extra mooncakes, Rana had shared hers. Upon taking bites of Rana’s mooncake, both Usagi and Tora had been struck by nausea and unable to move. It had taken an antidote from the Apothecary to restore them to normalcy. But the Heirs didn’t make the connection until there had been several more incidents in which Rana’s generosity in sharing food and drink had left someone paralyzed.
Now Rana was careful not to share her food with anyone and avoided sharing cups as well, especially since there was a good chance her venom would become deadly as her powers grew. She’d cried when they first realized what was happening. “It doesn’t feel like a talent. It feels like a curse.” But the upside of being able to produce venom was that she could help make their weapons even more effective. It was still not terribly strong—it wouldn’t do much more than stun, according to Saru’s reports on the venom-tipped throwing blades they’d brought on the last mission. But it was easier than mixing up potions from scratch.