This was the most dangerous part. With lanterns burning throughout the hallways, there were no shadows and few places to hide. Ducking around a corner to avoid one person could run her smack into someone else. This back hallway was empty and quiet, but she could hear the bustle of servants working in the nearby kitchen — the clinking of plates — quick mutterings — food sizzling in iron skillets. The scent of the heavily spiced foods the Baojendari served at formal meals was nearly overpowering. The family must be starting dinner, and that would tie up everyone in the house. Perfect.
Now, Awasa’s room. Iniru stifled a curse. Why hadn’t she asked Shoma where it was? She’d been so keyed up on getting here unseen and stopping this threat that she’d made an absolutely amateur mistake, forgetting that intel always came first. Her mother would not have been proud of her for that. But Shoma hadn’t thought to mention it, either. Come to think of it, she probably didn’t know. Awasa would never invite Enashoma, whom she deemed inferior, into her room. Besides, visiting another person’s bedroom was likely improper. Iniru had learned fast that Turesobei and Enashoma were not the standard-bearers for their society’s customs.
Regardless, she was on her own to figure it out. So where would Awasa be — where would Awasa want to be? The spoiled only child of a powerful family would want the best room in the house aside from that of her parents. She’d want a room with a view of the garden. She’d want the second floor so she would be above everyone else. It was likely that all the family bedrooms were upstairs anyway.
All her senses focused, glancing around each corner, Iniru darted down the hallway and slinked up the staircase. The top level was quiet — not a sound — not from any of the … ugh, eighteen rooms.
“Oh that figures,” she hissed to herself.
The Kobarai had enough space for parents, grandparents, and half a dozen children. But Awasa would likely be on the back side to view the garden, so that narrowed things down to three rooms.
Which one? She needed to move fast. Perfume! Awasa always wore jasmine perfume, a little too much, for a k’chasan nose anyway. Flaring her nostrils, she focused on the scents of the second story: sandalwood … rose petals … lantern oil … wood polish … lye … silk … wood polish … got it. She followed the scent of jasmine to the room on the far corner. Each panel on the screen door lavishly depicted an exotic flower. Iniru held her ear to the door and listened …
No one inside.
Sliding the door open and closing it behind her, Iniru penetrated Awasa’s exceedingly prim and girlish domain. She passed through the antechamber with its space for a servant’s bed, went through a second door, and entered the massive bedroom. Iniru had shared a room smaller than this with seven older sisters.
A screen blocked off one corner of the room — probably for changing. The baojendari were such prudes. Three large windows looked out onto the garden. Perfect, she could open a window, jump down, and avoid having to go back downstairs. A door on the interior wall led to what she assumed was a privy chamber. All the rest of that wall was covered by an armoire. Awasa would have that many clothes. On the opposite wall was a small cabinet for bedding and —
There it was, on top of Awasa’s writing desk — an ornately decorated, lacquered box with the lid open.
Iniru dashed over. Inside the box lay a single piece of folded paper with Iniru’s name written on the front.
She’s written a letter to me? That’s odd.
Iniru reached down.
The door leading in from the hallway slid back. Footsteps fast approached through the antechamber. She glanced at the windows — three locked latches on each. She’d never have time to open one before they got inside. One peek of fur and tufted ears and they’d know who’d broken in. A column wrapped with flowering wisteria stood near the desk. She squeezed in behind it, making herself as tall and narrow as she could, couched in the shadows.
“I didn’t want any dinner, Marumi,” Awasa sniped. “Mother doesn’t care if I stay when Father’s away on business. I’m tired. Zaiporo, let’s get this over with. Quickly this time.”
“Yes, Lady Enashoma,” said a deep, young voice.
Iniru peeked through a gap in the wisteria and winced as the servant and the guard lit the other lantern near the door. The room was bright now, except behind the plant and the screen.
With an engraved bowl of water and a sponge in hand, the servant Marumi stood beside Awasa while a young zaboko boy in armor — his hand on the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt — began checking the room … methodically.
Crap.
The handsome boy — Zaiporo, she assumed, based on Shoma’s description — stalked over to the windows, peered outside, and checked that each latch was locked. He stepped behind the screen, paused a moment, and then crossed the room and entered the privy. After that he began to open each section of the armoire, shoving robes aside to make sure no one was hiding amongst them.
This was ridiculous. Did he expect to find someone? Iniru’s heart pounded in her chest so hard it hurt. He was going to find her. Nothing she could do about that. The only plan she could think of flashed through her mind: neutralize each person with a hand-strike to the neck — no lasting damage if you’re careful — guard, then servant, then Awasa — get all of them before they cry out — hope they don’t remember what hit them — deliver the box to Enashoma — flee Ekaran without saying goodbye to Turesobei — never know whether he'd recovered — never see him again.
Bile rose into her throat.
Awasa stomped a foot. “Oh, by the gods, Zaiporo! Just get out. The room is safe. It’s always safe.”
With the slightest hint of malice in his voice, he calmly replied, “I am merely following Lord Kobarai’s orders concerning your safety, Lady Awasa.”
“You are trying to vex me.”
“I would never, my lady.”
“I have attended a breakfast, two teas, and a luncheon today. I'm exhausted. I want to go to bed. Now. I promise you, no one’s in here. No one’s ever in here. No one will ever be in here. Who would try to kidnap or assassinate me?”
“Lady Awasa, I —”
“Go!” she said shrilly, her cheeks burning red. “That’s an order. Do not make me complain to my father again.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
He spun on his heel, bowed to her curtly, and exited the room. Iniru watched him walk into the hallway and stop outside the first door. Poor guy, he probably had to stand there all night.
Awasa clenched her eyes, shuddered, and huffed. “Marumi, put the bowl behind the screen and leave.”
Marumi did so, bowed to Awasa, and then entered the antechamber. After closing both doors, Marumi remained in the antechamber in case Awasa needed anything during the night.
Awasa took a bundle of folded letters from her sash, thudded over to her writing desk, and tossed them into the lacquered box.
Iniru twitched forward, reached halfway out, and almost screamed, “No!”
Awasa didn’t notice. Smiling down at the letters, she hissed, “This’ll show you, k’chasan tramp.”
Chapter Seven
Iniru tensed, ready for action.
But Awasa simply walked over to the windows and opened them all. Iniru relaxed. Of course Awasa didn’t know she was here — otherwise, why send the guard back out into the hallway? Awasa wasn’t speaking to her directly … but then, what exactly did she mean by —
A low growl rattled through Iniru’s throat. She called me a tramp!
Awasa untied her tight pink sandals, breathing a sigh of relief. She pulled her sash free and took off her first and second outer robes. With a larger sigh of relief, she put the heavy clothes away in the armoire. Awasa took the ivory pins from her hair and shook it loose. Iniru was impressed. The girl was a lot prettier when she wasn’t made up like a doll, though obviously the baojendari must enjoy that silly look. She stifled a surge of jealousy. Awasa was still just a spoiled brat. She was not competition … and yet … Awasa
would ultimately win. She would be the one to end up with Turesobei — they were betrothed. And the Chonda would never let Turesobei marry a k’chasan girl.
As Awasa bent over and combed through her hair with her fingers, six marble-sized flames rose up from the lacquered box, drifted across the room, and zipped out the window. Awasa didn’t even notice them.
Iniru cursed silently. If she’d gotten here just a minute sooner, they would’ve had only a single tukukagi to deal with. Now they had to contend with all of them. They’d soon form into demons and head straight toward Turesobei.
Iniru had to hurry.
But Awasa picked up a hairbrush and stood in front of the mirror which gave her a commanding view of the windows. “One hundred,” Awasa said with a mournful sigh as she completed a brush stroke. “Ninety-nine … ninety-eight … ninety-seven … ninety-six.”
Iniru wanted to rip all her fur out in frustration. I’ve died. I’ve died and I’ve gone to Torment. She’ll get to zero and restart her countdown. What a crappy afterlife I’ve gotten.
“Eighty-two … eighty-one …”
Going to have to risk it, or kill her. No time to daydream. Just grab the box, make a mad dash, and then hope she can’t identify you.
“Seventy-seven …”
Iniru took in a deep breath, eyed the box, flexed her knees, and popped out the tiny claws from under her fingernails.
Awasa groaned, glanced toward the door, and swiftly muttered: “Forty-five … thirty-two … seventeen … nine … three … two … one … done — for — tonight.” Awasa turned toward the door and waited for a response, but if Marumi was listening, she obviously didn’t care that Awasa had cheated when counting her brushstrokes.
With a wistful look out the window, Awasa breathed a whisper that only k’chasan ears could hear. “My life stinks.”
Half-heartedly humming a sad tune, Awasa stepped behind the screen. She pulled off her inner robe, dipped the sponge into the bowl, and began to bathe.
With almost reckless speed, Iniru shot out from behind the wisteria, closed the lid of the box as she picked it up, and leapt out the window.
Chapter Eight
Lu Bei waxed on about the various brews of tea — tasty and yucky — he’d encountered throughout his entire two millennia lifespan. Ignoring him, Enashoma recited the command phrase as she wrote it on a sheet of paper with the Maker’s Brush. She drew the activating sigil and folded the sheet into a basic crane.
Turesobei would be so jealous if he knew the magic brush that only she could use was even more special than he’d thought. But she was going to do as Lu Bei advised and not tell him … for now, anyway. She could live with that. It was cool knowing magic secrets her brother the wizard prodigy couldn’t know.
“Why are you doing that?” Lu Bei asked as she started writing the characters of the command on another sheet.
“Just trying to focus. You know, link the new task with something I do all the time to help me learn it.”
He blinked his beady eyes rapidly. “That’s — that’s extraordinarily clever.”
“Thank you,” she replied with a nod. “Grandmother taught me that trick … before she died.”
“Sounds like she was a special lady.”
“She’d have to be to keep up with Grandfather, don’t you think?”
Lu Bei chuckled. “I suspect so. What’re you going to do with the cranes?”
“I like to save them up. They’re good for amusing house cats and children.”
“You’ll have to get rid of those. Sorry. Can’t have them sitting around with that phrase written on them. But maybe … just maybe … I could test my new spark powers on them. Target practice, you know. After we survive this.”
Enashoma giggled. “You’re a funny little creature.”
“Not a creature. A book that turns into a fetch.”
Smiling, Enashoma drew the characters, recited the words, and folded the paper into another crane. Soon, she had seven of them piled beside her. She frowned. She was running low on paper … again. Mother won’t like having to purchase more. She'd have to steal some from Turesobei again. Fortunately, he never noticed.
Lu Bei stopped mid-sentence in his description of tea buds from the Mountains of the Stars and stood up alert. “It’s back.”
The shadow demon stepped out from the wall. How did they do that? Her eyelids began to drift downward. Oh crap, she hadn’t even thought of that. How in Torment was she supposed to recite the phrase if she fell —
A spark popped her on the nose.
“Ow!” she said, a little too loudly. Tears welled in her dried-out eyes, and a throbbing sensation echoed through her head. “Why did you … oh, I’m awake.” He had broken the somnolence effect.
Lu Bei sparked the tukukagi. The demon staggered back … then continued forward. Enashoma knelt beside Turesobei and grabbed onto his kavaru. A tingle of kenja trickled up her arm and swept through her. Turesobei had never let her touch the kavaru before. Good thing they were keeping this secret — otherwise, he’d kill her for this.
Come on, Iniru. Hurry.
Lu Bei let the demon get halfway across the room before he hit it with an extended blast of sparks. That drove it all the way back against the wall. Lu Bei’s sparks fizzled out, and he landed with a groan, his wings sagging. The demon recovered and inched forward.
Enashoma sensed a presence behind her. “Iniru you made —” She spun around. Four wizard leeches stepped into the room from the opposite wall.
“Lu Bei! Trouble!”
As the tukukagi stalked toward them, Lu Bei threw a meager spark at each. The demons barely missed a step. Lu Bei charged one, flew up, and clawed it in the face. The demon swung, but Lu Bei dodged and clawed it again. As he dodged a second blow, one of the other demons grabbed him by the tail and slung him away. Lu Bei somersaulted until he struck the wall and fell to the floor, gasping.
Iniru dove in through the window and shoulder-rolled to a stop beside Enashoma. She opened the lid to the lacquered box, shook a pile of letters out, and set it down between them.
“Recite the command now,” Lu Bei groaned, still lying on his head, slumped against the wall.
With the leech demons closing in, Enashoma recited the command. The demons paused. A surprising spike of power rose into her from the kavaru and … nothing.
The demons continued forward. Iniru leapt up and kicked one. It took the blow and kept coming. She hit two more, but she could barely slow them down. Her blows, while physically stronger, had less effect than Lu Bei’s, perhaps because he was a magical creature.
Enashoma spoke the phrase two more times. The power rose into her with each attempt, but still nothing happened.
Come on. Come on. You can do this. You have the talent.
A demon grabbed Iniru by the wrist and flung her against the wall. She hit — with a thud Enashoma was certain would wake the whole house — and fell on top of Lu Bei, who squeaked like a toy.
The four new demons were only inches away, looming over her. The first stooped over Turesobei and lowered his hands.
She had to do something. Distract them and try the command again — that’s all she could possibly —
Her cranes! She didn’t have to touch her creations to activate them. She pointed at each demon. “Cranes attack!”
Giving a single origami creature a complicated command was difficult in the best of times. But all seven did exactly what she wanted. In fact, her little animated creatures did more than she could’ve imagined.
Power surged out of the kavaru and numbed every bone in her body. Golden light streamed out from each crane as the written characters for the command phrase sparked to life. The cranes launched and buzzed around like a swam of hornets. Puzzled, the tukukagi paused. Then the cranes attacked, each crane targeting a different demon. The two extra cranes circled overhead.
A crane struck a tukukagi square in the chest and burst into a shower of sparks. The demon turned, in the blink of an ey
e, into a tiny flame, which zipped into the lacquered box. One by one, the cranes hit their marks. The surprised demons never even had a chance. Each tukukagi in turn became a walnut-sized flame that sped into the box. Finally, the two extra cranes flashed into the box, as if hitting the demons for good measure.
Once they were all inside, Enashoma slapped the lid shut. She released the kavaru and slumped down, half lying on top of her poor brother. Panting for breath, hurting all over, she wondered how on earth he could do magic all the time. Did channeling energy always hurt this bad?
At the same time, she was extraordinarily satisfied with herself. She had done something — something important — something essential to the lives of many. She had mattered. And that feeling was pure intoxication. Lying there exhausted, still shaking from fear, she vowed to herself: I will be something more than a trophy wife to some boring clan noble. I will have a meaningful life.
Iniru and Lu Bei both staggered over and sat down beside her. Iniru grabbed her by the shoulders.
“You okay?”
“I’m … actually, I’m fantastic.”
“You’re … what?” Iniru asked.
“She’s just riding the adrenaline high,” Lu Bei said. “Suspect she’s hurting all over.”
“Oh, I am hurting,” Enashoma replied. “But I’m happy. We did it.”
“That thing you did with the cranes was brilliant,” Iniru said.
“I didn’t plan it. Just happened.”
Lu Bei nodded. “Lucky you made those, then. Told you magic’s in your blood. Good thing Iniru got the box here in time. Though it would’ve been nice if she’d —”
“Shut it, fetch. You’ve got no room to complain. If you hadn’t wasted so much time talking, I would’ve made it there before Awasa chucked all these letters in and woke the rest of them.”
Lu Bei picked up a letter and peered at Iniru. “That’s weird. They’re addressed to you. All of them.”
Iniru shrugged. “I don’t know why she’d write me.”
Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3 Page 34