by Ko, John
“Really? Oh, thank you, thank you. We were so worried,” he says. His face suddenly looks even more tired; even his freckles seem to sag. “I have to let the others know.”
“It’s not over yet,” she says. “The building’s heavily guarded and from what I’ve learned so far, the people staying there aren’t very good men.”
She eyes the gauntlets Sense is wearing. “It’s a good thing you showed up when you did. I’m going to need your help.”
“Now,” Ieiri says, listening, watching.
A vine shoots out from Sense’s gauntlet and Ieiri flies up it. Sense waits for the signal and retracts the vine, pulling himself up behind her.
Once on the other side, they scramble behind a perfectly manicured shrub just as the next patrol turns the corner.
“You were right, Sense. They do seem to have something plugging up their ears.”
Sense nods, wide-eyed and shaking. He is not used to this sort of thing. But he is trying to be brave. The patrol enters the building through the side entrance. Ieiri tosses one of her throwing knives to keep the door from shutting tight. She pushes Sense down by the head and ducks back under their shrub. The other patrol passes by the window on the floor above.
When Ieiri catches Sense’s eye, she shows three fingers, then two, and then one. She runs, half-dragging the strategist behind her towards the side entrance. She gathers her knife and lets the door close behind her. Sense points towards the stairs halfway down the hall and they make a run for it.
The guitar is playing again. As they go up and up the stairs, the sorrowful tune grows louder. They get to the fourth and final landing and she takes a quick peek down the hall. Ieiri pulls back quickly and puts a finger to her lips to signal quiet. The sound of footsteps grows closer and the pair recede deep into the shadows of the stairwell.
She was afraid it would come to this. At no point does the patrol leave sight of double doors at the end of the hall. I didn’t want anybody to get hurt, but … She pulls out her other knife—the long one. But Sense is looking out the single, small window set into the stairwell. He motions her over.
“Over here,” he says, opening the window and creating another vine. She can hear it wiggle its way out and latch onto something beyond her sight. “This will take us to his window.” Sense disappears out the window and she follows just behind.
The guitar stops all of a sudden and is replaced by the sound of tears. They’re so close to the window now, just inches away.
“There’s someone up there,” someone yells.
“Stop, intruders!” More and more guards show up below.
“Fail us,” Ieiri mutters, practically scooping Sense underneath her arm and leaping through the window. Glass and wood shatter. The world spins and rolls until they come to a tumbling stop.
She’s staring at a pair of feet that come up to meet the hem of a fine silken gown. When she looks up, she finds a girl with reddened eyes. Fail, fail, we got the wrong room, she thinks in disgust.
“Sense?” the girl says.
Ieiri looks at the girl. She’s just the type you’d expect bad men to kidnap—about as pretty as can be and just as helpless looking.
Someone is pounding on the door from the other side. Ieiri rushes over and throws herself against the double doors. “Sense, help me!”
But it’s the helpless girl that gets there first. Side-to-side, with their backs against the door, she says, “Ieiri Skyshadow, I presume?”
“How do you know who I am?” Ieiri looks at her, trying to remember her face. Sense just looks at them with his mouth open.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she says. “My name is Poe. Fate’s told me all about you.”
Chapter 62
POESY HARDRIME
[Inside the High-Walled Manse by the River, Saranghae]
For as far back as she could remember, Midwinter has always been her favorite time of year. There’s nothing like watching one’s breath disappear into the wind or feeling the bite of the cold against her skin. It always makes her feel so alive.
Snowflakes and icicles, hot chocolate and warm scarves—she loves them all. But the very best part of winter was that—it would mean he was coming for her.
The Maestro himself, the great Lord Hardrime—her father, would be all hers for a couple of uninterrupted weeks. They would play and sing, eat all day, talk about nothing, and go for walks in the snow until she couldn’t feel her little toes and he’d have to carry her back. She would laugh a year’s worth of laughter in those few days. Then he would be gone.
After all, the world needed its Maestro. Beloved by all, his music brought happiness to the miserable, taught what could not be taught, started wars and ended them as well. But most of all, he inspired. Little girls need their fathers, though. He couldn’t do it all.
But he could if she helped. That’s what he promised her the day she entered finishing school. All she had to do was to graduate. Then they could tour the world together. That was all a lie, though.
No one would ever describe Poesy Hardrime as a good student. Unmotivated is how most of her teachers would describe her. She wasn’t always that way. When she was very little, she did try her best. But it didn’t take very long for even a young girl to recognize the look she received for her efforts—disappointment. Her teachers never said it out loud, but she could see it in their eyes. It became far easier to not try at all.
But her father never looked at her that way. Whenever he would look over her most recent marks, he would simply pat her on the head and say, “I see the dragon has yet to wake.” She didn’t know what that meant exactly, but the words always made her feel better and worse at the same time.
His promised changed things, though. She no longer cared what others thought. She took every extra class she could. She rarely finished at the top, but she did well enough. The shock on her teachers’ faces was almost as annoying as the disappointment it replaced. They didn’t believe the dragon would ever wake.
She kept it a secret. She was going to tell him when he came with the snow—that his daughter would be graduating a whole year early. But that midwinter break, he never came for her. He died somewhere far away. He never said goodbye. He lied.
Eventually, she forgave him. She was used to forgiving him. It really wasn’t his fault. But she couldn’t go back to school. The one who was supposed to take care of her now, her uncle, couldn’t understand why. How can the lecture hall remind you of him? Or the library? Or the yard? he would ask her. Because every day that I sat in class, or studied in the library, or wrote songs in the yard, I did it thinking I would someday soon be with him, was the answer she could not say out loud. It was easier to run away.
Even running away, she did think of him—to follow in his footsteps, to finish their song, to be like him.
The stories he would tell of his younger days were the best. Tales of back when not a soul knew his name and he played for a meal or place by the fire were his favorites to tell. He would talk of meeting her mother and how she looked so much like her. He said Wysteria was a magical place where anything could happen. So she went there.
She had to leave her special necklace behind. She lost her voice, but not her good sense. It was far easier to travel abroad on a ship full of men as a boy. It was fun, though. She felt like she really was a younger version of him.
Finally, she was there, the Three Kingdoms of Wysteria. She was nervous. She was terrified, but she did it. She marched straight towards where all the kids gathered and unpacked Desi. Before she could talk herself out of it, she began to play. She played her heart out.
But she wasn’t met with disappointment or shock. She was met with nothing. No one was paying attention. No one listened. Why won’t they listen?
Life is not like in the songs. There’s no such thing as dragons. What’s the use in finding something good when it just gets taken away? she tells herself.
Poe didn’t even know she was searching, but she found it. But th
en her uncle found her and her little happy world came crashing down. And now …
The world is crashing down all around her.
No, really, it’s shattering. Glass and splinter fill the air and where once there was a large window there is nothing but a hole. The wintry wind blows in as ferocious as a wild beast unchained. It swirls all around her, grasping at her thin gown and sending chills straight to her heart. She feels her tears stop flowing as if they’ve been frozen in place. Her flush cheeks go bitter cold and suddenly the world is so clear.
At her feet is … Sense! Could it really be Sense? And with him is a blur of a girl that moves like moonlight over dark waters even as she tumbles across the floor.
“Sense?” she says in disbelief. The strategist staggers to his feet. He looks wild-eyed, disoriented, but the strange girl is already up and bracing herself against the door.
“Sense, help me!” the dark-haired girl says as the door threatens to be beaten down from the other side. Sense is still staggering, but Poe can help, so she does.
Foolish Poe! Wallowing in my own self-pity. Haven’t I learned anything? Poe thinks, angry with herself. Something about the other girl makes her want to try hard. From her dismissive glance to how she orders Sense around like she knows him—everything about this new girl bothers her.
And then she figures out why. All the pieces fit. This girl is … “Ieiri Skyshadow, I presume?”
“How do you know who I am?” Ieiri looks at her with eyes that will not be denied. Eyes as dark as overlapping shadows and skin like milk. I knew she’d be strong, but why does she have to be so pretty too?
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she says. “My name is Poe. Fate’s told me all about you.”
The dark-haired girl sizes her up in a single glance and sneers. “I don’t like liars or fakes.” Ieiri turns away from her and yells, “Sense, hurry up and come help me.”
What Poe wouldn’t give right now to put that other girl in her place. What’s wrong with her? I was trying to be nice. Poe grinds her teeth so hard they feel as if they’ll shatter.
“Poe?” Sense asks, taking his place between them. The next blow to the door is so hard it sends them reeling. The door slams against Ieiri’s head dazing her. But they recover in time to keep it shut tight. Poe tries not to smile too much.
“Sense, I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you … to tell all of you,” she says. “I just didn’t know how.”
“Now’s not the time for that,” Ieiri hisses. “We need to get out of here, now!”
“I have an idea,” Sense says, stepping back and holding his gauntleted hands forward. “Green Art: Vine Lash.” Tendrils sprout from his palms and bind the handles of the double door tight.
“There, that should hold up long enough for us to figure a way out of this,” he says. Even before he’s finished, Poe is giving him a hug.
“I’m so glad to see you, Sense,” she says. “But what are you doing here? And with her?”
“We’re here to rescue you,” he says. The banging on the door continues, but the vines hold fast.
“Didn’t you get my notes?” she asks.
“Notes? We got one,” he says. “But it just didn’t seem right and when we found out that Kearney was in town, we really began to worry.”
Poe begins grinding her teeth all over again. “Uncle!” She screams at the door.
“Poesy Hardrime, you open this door right this second or … or …” a voice calls back from the other side.
“No! I will not,” she yells back. “You didn’t even deliver my second note like you promised to.”
“Poesy Hardrime?” Sense’s eyes grow wide.
“Never mind, Scourge is here,” the voice says from the other side. “Tell your friends to step back, unless they want to get hurt.”
“We better do as he says,” Poe says, grabbing Sense by the collar and backing away from the door. A rumble comes from outside and the double doors explode, showering the room in splinters for a second time.
When the cloud of dust clears, a mountain of a man stands there grinning. Sense goes from shock to total fear and even Ieiri cringes at the sight of the near toothless giant.
But it’s only for a moment. Before Poe can scream for them to stop, Ieiri is already pulling out her blades. A little man steps gingerly through what remains of the doorway. He tries to wave away the dust with a handkerchief.
And then the world goes dark. Poe finds herself in a blackness so deep it’s as if the world has been stolen away. The room is gone. The wind is gone. Even the floor beneath her feet is no longer there.
What’s happening? Poe wonders as she tries to scream, but no sound comes out.
And just as quickly as the darkness came, it is gone and standing there is a woman that for some reason reminds Poe of Esperanza, but a little older and a lot meaner. Underneath her right arm, she has one man in a headlock and underneath her left she has the other.
“Master Enada,” Ieiri cries. “You’ve come!”
“Of course I have,” Enada says. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be watching over my one and only student?”
“Stop!” screams Poe. “Please, just stop.”
It takes a little explaining on Poe’s end before Master Enada releases the men from her hold. But for some reason, they never really resist.
“Thank you for letting my uncle and Scourge go,” Poe says. “As I was saying, I wasn’t really kidnapped—at least not legally. Uncle is my appointed guardian and Scourge was my father’s best friend.
“They were holding me against my will, but they didn’t really mean me any harm,” she explains. “Sometimes, they get a little overprotective due tot he fact that I am his only heir.”
“You are not just any heir. You are the heir to one of the greatest fortunes the world has ever known,” her uncle says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Don’t you understand what that means, my dear? You are worth more than kings and queens, yet you walk around without a single guard. Haven’t you learned by now how dangerous that is?”
“It’s not as if I walk around with treasure in my pockets,” Poe says. “The only thing of value I carry is Desi.”
“You still don’t understand. It’s not the fortune we are worried about. It is you,” her uncle says. “How many times have you been kidnapped now? Three, four? When will you learn—who you are makes you a target for bad men.”
“Five, if you count this one,” Poe mutters under her breath.
‘What was that?” Sir Hardrime raises his voice and brings his face right up to hers. “This is not a game, young lady!”
“I can take care of myself,” Poe says, not backing down. “My friends came for me, didn’t they? They’re better than any guards you could hire. And if worse came to worse, I could always use my true voice.” She grabs the necklace around her neck, threatening to tear it off.
Why does he have to always be like this? Poe thinks, noticing for the first time that everyone is staring at her. I know this isn’t a game.
“Oh my goodness, game!” Poe says. Even though she wasn’t allowed to leave the room, she still managed to keep track of how her friends fared.
She runs to the hole where there once was a window and sees that the moon has risen. “Sense, shouldn’t you be at the Tourney Grounds right now?”
Sense manages to finally close his mouth and stop staring. “Yes,” he says, running over to join Poe by the hole in the wall. “How could I forget?” he says, fiddling with his gauntlet “We’re supposed to deactivate our gauntlets if we find you, but I think they’re too far off to notice. Still though, there’s at least a chance Monster will notice.”
“What? The others aren’t already there?” Poe asks.
“It’s a long story, but everyone’s out looking for you,” Sense tells her. “We were worried …”
Poe turns to her uncle, who grimaces and says, “Maybe I should have sent the second note. I just thought that no good would come of it. For that I
am sorry, Poesy.”
“Never mind that now, Uncle,” she says. “Right now, we have to make things right.”
Her uncle still looks hesitant.
“Fine, I’ll take the oath,” Poe says. She was avoiding it in hopes of rejoining her friends, but right now that doesn’t matter.
Sir Hardrime pulls out a black, leather tome from inside his coat and hands it to her.
Poe grabs the Promise Tome and places her right hand upon it. “I, Poesy Hardrime, swear to finish school and never run away again.” The book glows golden and chimes three times.
“There, it’s done; now you have nothing to worry about,” she says. “Please let me go help my friends.” But how? They’re spread all throughout the city. We’ll never be able to find them all in time.
“We should go to the Tourney Grounds,” Sense says.
“Have the others noticed your signal?” Ieiri asks.
“No, unfortunately not yet,” Sense says. “But still, it’s our best chance.”
Sense has that look, like he knows something that no one else does. Usually, Poe hates that look. But right now, there’s no other face she’d rather see.
“Uncle, send for the carriage. Sense has a plan.”
“Why am I bringing Desi?” She’s never without the guitar, but the fact that Sense made sure she brought it irks her.
Sense doesn’t bother answering. He’s too busy fiddling with his gauntlet. “Good, Monster’s finally noticed and taken his off as well,” he mumbles to himself.
“The moon is almost above the Tourney Grounds,” Ieiri says, hanging halfway out the window. “There’s no way they’ll make it in time.”
“It’s okay as long as we make it in time,” Sense says.
“Yes! Then maybe we could explain everything to the officials and …” Poe begins to say, but her hopes are dashed at the looks on the others’ faces. “Fine, so that’s not very likely to happen, but then just what are we trying to do?”