She shut up, reading the desperate determination in his blue eyes just before he closed them. So Saskia signaled to the nearby men for silence. They might not understand exactly what he was doing, but they could doubtless tell he was Ferisher-touched. Fear boiled up inside her; his gift could be dangerous when pressed to its limits, and Janus was opening himself up to the whole world. Looking for Ritsuko.
CHAPTER 17
EVEN THE LONGEST NIGHT ENDS.
Ritsuko cradled that thought all through the dark hours, while her stomach growled, and she fought constant fear. By the time the sun came up, her entire body ached; she had bruises on bruises, and in the scant moments of sleep she’d snatched, she had probably hurt Irahi. She didn’t like the sound of his breathing. It came in jagged rasps. Though she wasn’t a doctor, she knew ribs could do internal damage when they broke.
If he has a punctured lung . . .
She shifted away from him to peer into his face. His forehead was clammy, but he mustered a smile when he saw she was awake. “Did you rest any?” he asked.
“A little. Can you move?”
“I don’t see that I have a choice.”
They could wait for rescue, of course, but that seemed counterproductive, so she levered herself to her feet and pulled Irahi up. He groaned and staggered, reminding her how narrow the ledge was. In the daylight, it was worse; she could see the long fall down the rocks below, nothing but death and more death that way. Ritsuko squared her shoulders and tried not to think about how hungry she was or the fact that the runoff from the night before appeared to have dried up. It was just as well she couldn’t remember how long people could survive without water.
“I’ll go first,” she said.
When he didn’t argue, Ritsuko took it as proof that he hurt more than she did. I’d have more than bruises if not for Irahi. Figuratively speaking, she strangled her panic and kicked its corpse over the side of the mountain, then she set off, boots scraping loose clusters of rock that plinked against the cliff face as they tumbled down. His heavy tread offered assurance that he was with her, but even at her careful pace, his breath grew ragged. Ritsuko turned, gesturing for him to be still, and leaned her head against his chest. To her relief, his inhalations sounded dry. So far. That didn’t mean he was healthy, but at least he wouldn’t start coughing up blood.
He touched her hair lightly, offering what she felt sure was meant as a reassuring smile. “I know you’re worried, but I’ve been hurt worse.”
“And I imagine you had immediate access to shelter, food, and medicine.”
“That’s true, but I’m tough. Keep moving.”
Even if it was pure bravado, she had no way of treating his injuries, so she set off. As they walked, the day brightened, and only the position of the sun told her that time was passing. Moving slow, they didn’t cover much distance, and she stopped often. Farther on, the ledge narrowed to the point that her heart thundered in her chest as she inched along.
The stone lip wound around the mountainside, and Ritsuko stumbled into Irahi, who hissed in pain when her elbow caught him in the side. “Sorry.”
She’d hoped the path would angle upward, maybe eventually rejoining the original path. Instead, this ledge simply . . . ended. They could retrace their steps to where they’d fallen, but that would sap energy they didn’t have. Exhaustion pulled on her legs like leaden weights, but she found the strength to help the doctor maneuver in the shallow space, so they could retreat around the corner. Better not to sit so close to the edge.
“Let’s settle where the stone is widest. That should be safer.”
Irahi held on to the rock wall as he backtracked far enough for them to make camp. Not sure if that applies when you have no supplies. It was somewhere to rest, at least, and the slight overhang above gave some respite from the sun. Her back protested when she slid down beside the doctor. Now all they could do was wait.
“Here,” Irahi said, offering his flask.
The water felt tepid and brackish on her tongue, faintly flavored with the liquor he’d poured out the night before. Ritsuko was careful not to take more than a couple sips; there was no way to tell how long this had to last. I wish I knew more about survival. But maybe more information would just frighten her more if it permitted her to predict their life expectancy with greater accuracy.
Not thinking of that. Mikani’s coming. He’ll find us.
Once they got comfortable, Irahi went through his pockets. Good idea. Ritsuko did the same and they piled the items between them. The emergency inventory consisted of one partially filled flask, two peppermint sticks, a packet of salted beef, a handkerchief, a comb, two knives, a thimble, a pincushion, a pencil, a pair of scissors, and a scent bottle. Ritsuko beamed when she realized they had what looked like a feast, as it had been almost a day since she’d eaten.
Irahi wore a sheepish expression. “I thought I’d better pack something in case I got hungry before we reached the inn.”
“I could kiss you.”
“Save it for when I’ve got more energy.” But it was a lackluster riposte, and his hands trembled when he passed her a strip of dry meat.
Ritsuko ate it slowly, trying to fool her stomach into thinking it was more substantial. Then the doctor snapped a peppermint stick and offered her half. “Dessert, how decadent.”
After the sweets were gone, they each had another swallow of water. “Do you think they’re searching for us?” she asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Should we have waited where we fell?”
“I don’t know if it would’ve been any better. In the dark, in the storm, I doubt they’d be sure how far from the village we were.”
“The road is impassable right now. What will the villagers do for supplies?”
He lifted one shoulder in a weary half shrug. “A stone elemental could mend the path, but it will be expensive.”
“Not for us to worry about, I suppose. We have our own challenges.”
Irahi smiled in response to her deliberately optimistic description of their predicament.
For a few seconds, she studied the pile of possessions; and then it occurred to her. While she might regret this move come nightfall, if nobody had found them before then, cold would be the least of her worries. Ritsuko shrugged out of her coat and took up the scissors, cutting the fabric into long strips.
“If that’s for my ribs—”
“You said not to bother, you’re the doctor.”
“Then what’re you doing?”
“Making a rope.” With grim determination, she braided the cloth together and pulled it tight, tighter, hoping it would bear weight.
“I don’t think it’ll be long enough to reach the bottom, Celeste, even if you strip down to your bare skin.”
If Mikani said that, it would’ve sounded . . . wicked. She fought a blush, continuing her work. “That’s not my plan. I’m hoping it might be long enough to reach the top. I’m not confident in my climbing ability, however, so I was hoping—”
“That I’d secure the rope on this end and stop you from plummeting all the way down?”
“Exactly. If I can get to the top, I’ll help you up.”
“I don’t know if I can make it,” the doctor said quietly. “Walking is a strain. Scaling a cliff would be agony.”
His quiet certainty cut a slash across her heart. “We can’t stay here, just getting weaker.”
“I know. Don’t apologize. You’re not a damsel who sits and waits to be saved.”
“It goes against my nature,” she admitted.
The rock face above was rough, and she had no idea if she could manage. With no climbing experience, it seemed foolhardy, but she’d go mad sitting on this ledge. I’ll take every precaution, but I have to try. Ritsuko cut her skirt next and by the time, she finished making the rope, her fingers were sore. She looped it around her waist, then let Irahi tie the knots.
“Not as good as Ferro could do, but they should hold. Good luck.”
Ritsuko left all her worldly goods with him as a promise that she was coming back. A few deep breaths steadied her, then she evaluated the cliff above. Slightly to the right, she should be able to haul herself up. Two feet felt like an immense distance when there was so much open air beneath her. The ledge might catch her, and if that failed, hopefully it wouldn’t hurt Irahi to keep her from tumbling over the edge, using the makeshift cable.
Inch by inch, she went up, torturously slow. It took minutes for her to find the next handhold and even longer to gather the courage to reach for it. Her arms trembled, and she forced herself not to look around. Only the rock, there’s only the rock. Irahi seemed to sense that silence helped more than encouraging words could, so he said nothing as she shifted upward.
Then the loose rock skittered away from her feet, and she clawed at empty air. For the second time, Ritsuko fell.
She didn’t scream.
• • •
MIKANI CLOSED HIS eyes and drew a shuddering breath. He had always channeled his gift through touch and taste; even when he set it free during battle, he relied on the hot wash of anger and bitter fear from his opponents to guide his attacks and counters.
It’s always been close, bloody and intimate. Like killing, like tasting the fading emotions of a dying man . . .
He wasn’t sure he could even do what he intended, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. Men muttered behind him, and Saskia’s gaze weighed heavy on the nape of his neck. As he released his hold upon his talent, the acrid hint of their fear and doubt touched the tip of his tongue. Saskia’s concern was close and sharp; he recoiled as the wash of emotions cut into the tentative web of his expanding senses. Mikani sensed an echo of himself on her, all angles and sharp taste like rich wine and spices, but she also kept Hu close, gentle, steadfast, and reassuring as a home’s warm hearth.
With a shuddering breath, he cast his talent wider, doing his best to block the tangled mess of her emotions from his senses. Hot blood hammered at his temples, and he tasted the fear of a rabbit hiding from a hawk in the tall grass nearby. He cast wider than ever . . . but it was only a few dozen yards, and his chest was already burning with the strain. Each labored breath was a harsh rasp in his ears that drowned all other sounds.
It’s not enough. Not nearly enough. Damn’d be, I can’t feel her . . . she’s too far.
Since he could not track memories and traces of her emotions, he’d have to improvise.
She’s the sun. I’d normally search for her by following the trail left by her passing . . . today, I must seek her warmth, instead.
Mikani loosened his grip and sought her in his memories. When they first met, partnered against both their wishes by Commander Gunwood, the lingering haze of her initial annoyance turned to delight when they broke their first case within a week. The first time a suspect went after her, he’d broken the man’s jaw. Ritsuko had been angry with him; frustrated as he’d been at the time, he’d also admired her determination to make it without special treatment. Next a memory of visceral joy cascaded through him of the first time he’d seen her smile, rare as a fleeting sunbeam through a thick cloud. Mikani threaded through each moment with her, sharp in his mind and resonating with emotion—the happy celebration of a hundred small victories, the shared frustration of long nights as they worked the cases no one else wanted.
He gathered his feelings from years of partnership, weaving them together into a tenuous outline of her. Mikani was vaguely aware of moving. Ignoring the sensation, he set his gift free so he could concentrate on seeking more memories of Ritsuko. The world faded, and in his mind’s eye, she became more real than anything else: amusement in her voice when they argued over paperwork, her worry over his reckless ways, and the shimmer of the way her hair caught the sunlight just right, shining blue-black against her skin.
When did I notice that? Or, rather, how could I not notice that before?
Her face glowed in the red light of dawn and a spark of heat went through him at how her brow furrowed just so as she became lost in thought. Tumbling along with that fragment of memory, a lingering trace of her scent . . . and the clear sensation of her fingers on his cheek. He heard her voice speaking a dozen fragments of half-remembered conversations.
Her face was everywhere.
Hells and Winter, Ritsuko . . . Celeste. When did you become so deeply ingrained in me? The realization hit him hard, with a suffocating twist deep in his chest: a sharp and undeniable tug toward the west. Mikani opened his eyes with a gasp, and only Saskia’s hand on his arm kept him from falling off his horse.
The rest of the men stared at him, eyes wide, fear rolling off them in oily ripples . . . but he barely even noticed them or the throbbing burn at the back of his throat. He spat out a mouthful of coppery heat and steered the roan toward the far end of the narrow valley.
“Janus?” Saskia’s voice was distant, distorted.
He swam in a haze of pain and purpose that couldn’t be easily pierced. “I can feel them. This way.”
She shook her head, frowning at him. His tongue felt swollen and heavy; the faint sting told him he must have bitten it at some point, so he pointed toward the hills with a trembling arm, instead. Saskia nodded and turned to the others, her words a muffled murmur as he rode past her, following the insistent tug at his heart.
For two hours, they rode into the hills surrounding the valley, calling out every few minutes for Ritsuko and Hu as they advanced along narrow trails and crumbling mounds of shale washed down the mountainside by the elemental storms. The going was slow and precarious, with frequent switchbacks and detours to make their way past gorges and treacherous patches of mud . . . but Mikani never lost the trail. The carefully crafted web of emotions tied to his memories of Ritsuko was as unmistakable as the first light of dawn, guiding him toward her.
He had neither the time nor energy to waste talking to the others. As he followed that trail, he could not help but realize just how entwined their lives had become . . . how he’d come to accept her as a part of him, natural as breathing.
I’m an idiot. Regaling her with tales of my affairs, not realizing that she’s the one constant light ready to bring me out of the dark.
Mikani was so lost in tracking and recrimination that he nearly rode off the side of the mountain; only one of the men’s sharp tug on his reins and Saskia’s startled cry saved him from being bucked off his horse and off the sheer cliff before them.
“Bloody hell . . .” He pulled up short and looked around, feeling her nearby, almost painfully close. The throbbing in his head and rush of blood in his ears kept him from hearing the faint cries from below until someone pointed down the slope.
“Irahi!” Saskia dismounted and scrambled to the edge.
Mikani followed clumsily, crawling the last few feet to kneel beside her and peer down, trying to blink away the blurriness in his vision. Hu was sprawled against the rock wall, Ritsuko cradled against his side. The wash of relief that swept through Mikani nearly crumpled him. He let out a long breath as he shuddered uncontrollably. He forced his eyes open, his mouth twitching in an attempt to smile, and looked down.
Ritsuko hadn’t moved, and Irahi seemed to be attempting to stand . . . and failing. Bronze gods, no. No, no, no.
Two volunteers held him back as he tried to launch himself down the slope to get to Ritsuko; he struggled against them with desperate strength until Saskia grabbed him by the hair and leaned in close enough to shout at him.
“She’s alive! They’re alive . . . stop being an idiot, stay still so we can haul them up!”
He pulled himself to his knees, shaking and struggling to stand as they fashioned a rough harness from ropes and leather straps. After tying one end to the black horse, and securing Saskia into a makeshift rock-climbing rig, they carefully lowered her along the rugged rock wall toward Ritsuko and Hu. When Saskia’s descent sent a small shower of loose shale and gravel rattling down the slope, Ritsuko opened her eyes and sat up. She squin
ted up and offered a weak wave.
Mikani made a hoarse sound and collapsed.
CHAPTER 18
HOURS LATER, RITSUKO STOOD IN THE ROOM BESPOKEN FOR her use. It was simple but clean with a single bed and a dresser for storing personal possessions. Since it was tucked beneath the eaves, it had only a single window, through which she stared out over the hamlet, where villagers went about their business. A woman shopped at the market while a boy herded a flock of sheep through town.
That’s something you don’t see in the city.
After she’d bathed, her cuts and bruises had been treated, and they’d eaten a simple but hearty meal. We’re safe. The night on the mountain had been the longest of her life, and she couldn’t forget how she’d felt when she fell the second time, dangling, powerless but for Irahi’s strong arms. Failure threatened to choke her. I couldn’t save us.
Never been trapped quite like that before. Hate feeling helpless.
She hoped Irahi’s ribs didn’t bother him too much. Though she was exhausted, tension left her unable to sleep. The others had insisted everyone needed to rest before pressing on, but she felt keyed up in addition to the bone-deep weariness. She paced quietly, feeling every bruise.
A tap on the door distracted her. It was a tentative sound, as if the person on the other side thought she might be sleeping. That would be lovely, but no. Ritsuko answered, mustering a blank, courteous expression.
Mikani stepped in and closed the door behind him, more disheveled than usual, dark circles under bloodshot eyes. “You look like half a mountain fell on you. And yet, you’re not in bed.” He stepped closer, his gaze darting from her face to her bandaged arms and back.
“Too much excitement. I haven’t settled down yet.”
“I could ask Hu to mix something up. It’d give him something to do other than complain about the food and the shoddy job the herbalist did patching him up.” He reached up to brush a strand of hair from her forehead.
“I don’t think that would help,” she said softly.
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