“Magic plumbing,” Jason said. “Hmm.”
Kekoa crossed his arms. “Jason, why don’t you take a bath and get all that mud off you, and then we’ll take you to see the armory.”
Jason perked up. “Is the shower magic?”
David shook his head. “I don’t think so. No showers, either—they only got baths.”
“Hmm.” Jason looked around the bathroom for something else to “flush.” Besides the apple, he’d already done away with a pillow, a bowl they had served him some sort of gruel in, and a baseball cap that had apparently belonged to Kekoa. He hadn’t made the strongest first impression.
“I miss showers,” Kekoa said. “But I really miss toilet paper.”
Jason jumped to his feet. He hadn’t even noticed the lack of toilet paper. “What do we use?”
David tipped his head toward a folded pile of thin washcloths. “I like the cloths, man. They smell good.”
Jason sniffed one. The scent was similar to lilies, strong and sweet. He threw one in the toilet and closed the lid. When he opened it again, the bowl was empty. “Seriously. Where do they go?”
Kekoa sighed. “Listen, brah. I know you love toilets, but you can visit this one every day. Can we go to the armory now? We need a third in our Three Musketeers, and you’re our roommate, so it’s gotta be you.”
“War Party,” David said. “I’m telling you, we should be called the War Party. Three Musketeers is, like, French dudes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kekoa said, swinging the door to their room open. “Let’s go pick out weapons first, though, okay?”
“I want to check in on Madeline, too.”
“You’re not allowed to see her until after you hear the story of the Sunlit Lands. Them’s the rules,” David said. “C’mon.”
They walked down the hallway. Transition House was enormous, bigger than any place Jason had been in before. It reminded him of a boarding house or military dorm from olden times, like he had seen in movies. He followed the guys down a long flight of stairs, which had a red carpet held in place by fasteners along the stairway edge. “Don’t let Mrs. Raymond see you walking around all muddy,” Kekoa said.
“C’mon,” David said, pulling Jason along a narrow hallway that doubled around under the stairway. He opened a door, and a cool breeze washed over them. A wide stone staircase led downward, and torches lit the path.
“That shouldn’t fit in this house,” Jason said.
“More magic,” Kekoa said. “Technically it’s not in this house, it’s some castle somewhere.”
A wooden door with an enormous black iron lock stood at the bottom of the stairs. Kekoa unlocked it. Inside was a brightly lit white room, and much like the forest path, the illumination had no obvious source. Weapons of all kinds hung on racks and from hooks on the walls.
Kekoa threw his arms wide. “Welcome! Here is where we choose our weapons for fighting the Scim!”
“I’m not fighting anybody,” Jason said. “I didn’t sign up for that.”
Kekoa and David exchanged glances. David said, “Yeah, but when you see the Scim you’ll want to.”
Kekoa ran to the far wall and came back holding a weapon that looked like a large, distended Ping-Pong paddle with a hole through the middle, sharp teeth jutting out from the edges, and a hooked handle. “This is my leiomanō,” he said. “This is an old one. It’s made from kauila wood. That stuff’s endangered now! You’re not allowed to cut it down anymore. Those teeth are shark’s teeth, and the lashings that hold the teeth are handmade.”
He offered it to Jason, who turned it over in his hands. It was beautifully made. “What kind of shark’s teeth are they?”
“Tiger shark,” Kekoa said. “My people made this. Me and David, we like to use traditional weapons when we fight. It’s pretty epic when we’re out there, smashing those Scim.”
“What do you use?” Jason asked. “What’s traditional for you?”
“I’m Apsáalooke, from southeastern Montana,” David said. When Jason looked at him blankly, David said, “Crow tribe.” He picked up a long hatchet. “I’ll probably use this one in the next battle. Sometimes I use knives.” He spun the hatchet in his hand. “I like this one because it’s part hatchet and part ax.”
“What’s it called?”
David shrugged. “I call it a hatchet ax. I don’t know. I never used one before coming here.”
Kekoa slapped Jason on the shoulder. “David and I saw some stuff the other day that would be good as ancestral weapons for you, too. In fact, there’s a whole outfit. It’s lit. Come check it out.”
Kekoa and David both seemed thrilled to show him. They took him around one of the standing racks, and there was a full set of samurai armor. The flared helmet, the breastplate, the katana, everything. It was clearly old, and the polished, dark breastplate seemed to simultaneously reflect and hoard the light. Kekoa grabbed the katana and held it out to Jason, hilt first. “What do you think?”
The katana was beautiful. He studied the sheath for a long moment before using it to whack Kekoa in the legs. “I think that it’s Japanese and I’m Chinese, you idiot.”
“What? So what do Chinese soldiers use?”
“Armored tanks, I hope,” Jason said. “Besides, I already told you, I’m not fighting. And before you say another word, no! Ninja are a Japanese thing too.”
“Chill, brah. It’s not that big a deal, is it?”
“Dude,” David said. “You want him to call you Samoan?”
“Nothing wrong with Samoans,” Kekoa said. “But I’m kānaka maoli.”
“Yeah. Hawaiian. China versus Japan, that’s a big difference.” David made a mock jab at Kekoa with his hatchet ax. Kekoa made a face and stepped out of the way. “So what should we be looking for? What’s a Chinese dude use?”
Jason picked up a silver broadsword. It was heavier than he expected, and the tip hit the floor with a clang. “I have no idea. Weapons have never been my thing. There’s a double-edged straight sword called the jian. But like I said, I’m not fighting anybody.”
“It’s fun, though,” David said. “Seriously. I get all my war paint on to terrify the enemy. We get ourselves to look as scary as possible, and then we take those things out.”
“Yeah,” Kekoa said. “And so long as you don’t get decapitated or something, the Elenil fix all your battle wounds, so you’re good to go the next day.”
So that’s why it sounded “fun” to them. There wasn’t much risk if there were magic cure-alls at the end of the fight. Why would they even need to fight if everyone was magically better at the end? They might as well be playing checkers for dominance. He liked his roommates, but their laid-back attitude toward war creeped him out a little. They acted like it was a video game, and granted, if they could just “respawn” after every battle, maybe it kind of was. But he was here for Madeline, not to crush skulls with a shark-toothed Ping-Pong paddle. “I’d need a crazy good reason to fight anybody. It’s not my style.”
Kekoa gasped like he had been punched in the stomach. “Oh,” he said. “Ahhhh ha ha ha.”
“Oh no,” David said. “He starts making weird sounds when he has a big idea.”
Jason hefted the sword back into place. “Do you hear that sound often?”
Kekoa swung his leiomanō, a whoop of joy coming out of his lips. “Let’s take him to see the prisoner.”
“No way, Kekoa. Humans aren’t allowed to talk to him.”
“Come on. There’s a door right near here that goes straight into the dungeon.”
“No.”
“Five minutes, David! Then Jason’ll fight for sure. Besides, what will the Elenil do if they catch us? Send us home?”
“I said no way, Kekoa!”
“David Glenn. We’re the ones who captured him. The least they can do is let us talk to him.”
“I still say no.”
Kekoa’s eyes flickered toward Jason. “Tiebreaker.”
David folded his arms. “Fine. Jason de
cides.”
Jason had the samurai helmet on his head and a throwing star in one hand. He had also picked up an ancient pistol that looked like it had a harmonica sticking through the middle of it. “What kind of prisoner? Who is it?”
“It’s a Scim warrior,” David said.
Jason rolled back on his heels. So far he had only seen an Elenil, and he hadn’t been much impressed. The toilets were way more interesting. He sort of wanted to see one of these evil Scim things. “Let’s take a look,” he said.
David’s eyelids closed halfway. “Alright, then.” He set his hatchet ax down.
Kekoa bounced from foot to foot and led the way out the door. He locked the armory, then grabbed a torch off the wall and led them through a much narrower, darker corridor. “No lock on this door,” he said. “We don’t know where it takes you, exactly. I think maybe the palace. David thinks outside of Elenil territory. We’re not sure. So you have to come back through this door. Don’t go up the steps in the dungeon, because we’re not sure where they go. You could be on the other side of the world if you do that.” He cracked the door open. “All clear.”
The dungeon matched every description Jason had ever heard. Dank, dark, and smelling nearly as putrid as the dried mud on him. There was a pile of hay in a corner and massive chained manacles hanging from the walls. Attached to one wall was a heavily muscled, brutish creature. Its arms were too long, like an ape’s. Its skin was the color of old concrete, though a swirl of black tattoos covered most of its chest and arms. It had totally black eyes—no whites—and a heavy brow. Its mouth jutted forward, full of crooked, yellowed teeth. A small wreath of neglected black hair encircled its grey brow. It wore a ragged cloth around its waist. Its fingernails were wide as quarters, ragged and split. Its ears were tiny and round, flat against the side of its head. Scars crossed much of its torso.
Jason’s heart revved up immediately. This thing was clearly powerful, and if it got its hands on Jason he wouldn’t last a second. Jason’s lips curled back in disgust and terror. And yet . . . there was something intriguing about it too. It was the most alien thing he had seen in the Sunlit Lands, and there was a strange sort of grace to the monstrous form. He imagined an army of these things and shuddered.
“Not too close, brah.”
Jason calculated the distance from the wall to himself, studying the length of the chains. The Scim turned its wide grey head toward him.
“This is Jason,” David said. “A friend of ours from the human lands.”
“I’m Wu Song,” Jason said. “That’s my real name.”
The Scim chortled. “Truth teller, are you?” Its voice was like gravel spilled on concrete.
Jason’s eyebrows rose. “Yes.”
“We Scim say only three tell the truth: prophets, storytellers, and fools. Which are you?”
Jason considered this question. “Probably fool.”
“Ha!” The Scim straightened, seeming suddenly interested. “I will trade you, truth for truth. I am called Break Bones.”
Hmm. Interesting. “I am called Jason.”
Break Bones smiled, opening his wide, frog-like mouth to display jagged and uneven teeth that were each the size of Jason’s pinky. “Why do you come to the Sunlit Lands?”
“To protect my friend,” Jason said. He thought about his answer for a moment. “And to lay to rest old ghosts. And you?”
The Scim stood and shook its chains. “To shatter the sun and bring a thousand years of darkness and terror to the Elenil and all who befriend them. To crush skulls and break necks. To build a temple of bleached bones that reaches to the great dome of the heavens. To humiliate every Elenil before their death, then tear down the works of their hands, stone by stone, beam by beam, brick by brick. Only then shall I rest.”
“Huh,” Jason said. “I guess that’s why they call you Break Bones.”
“The fountains will run with blood. The city walls will be shelves for their heads.”
“Better make a priority list, because if you tear down all their bricks and then try to use the walls as shelves, you’re going to have to rebuild the walls again. It’s a lot of work.”
“You mock me,” Break Bones said, his voice low. “The Scim are not fond of mockery, Wu Song.”
Jason cocked his head. “Is anyone fond of mockery?”
“I think you’re ticking him off,” David said.
“It’s a legitimate question,” Jason replied, watching the Scim.
Break Bones’s chest was heaving, his breath coming in staccato pants. “Humans. Are you even allowed in this prison?”
“We should go,” Kekoa said. “I think you get the point. The Scim are terrible monsters.”
“No,” Jason said, answering the Scim. “We snuck in.”
Break Bones laughed, and the horrible sound of it filled the dungeon. “I like you, Wu Song. When I am free from this place, I will honor you with a violent death. I will not humiliate you with captivity.”
“That’s nice,” Jason said. “Though I might prefer humiliation.”
Break Bones grunted, flashing his broken yellow smile. “What is the name of your friend? The one who is under your protection?”
“Don’t tell him,” David said.
Kekoa grabbed Jason’s arm and pulled him toward the door.
“Madeline,” Jason said. “Madeline Oliver.”
Break Bones wrapped his right arm into the chains holding him fast. “On the night I bring the darkness to you, I will come with her lifeless body, so you will know.” He slammed his arm forward, and dust puffed out of the wall where the chain was anchored. He yanked again, and the chain rattled, starting to come free. “So you will know you failed!” Break Bones roared, pulling the chain nearly all the way out. A distant trumpet sounded, and there was the sound of feet on the stone stairway.
Kekoa pushed Jason toward the exit, David close behind. They squeezed out the door, and David slammed it shut, leaning hard against it. The three of them stood there, panting. “Should we look?” David asked.
“Nah,” Kekoa said. “The Elenil will have him chained back up by now. No need to show our faces.”
“You’re crazy,” David said to Jason.
Jason scratched his head. “I guess.” He thought about Break Bones’s insane violence. He hadn’t even tried to disguise his desire to rain destruction on the Elenil, and he had threatened Jason—and Madeline—for little more than teasing him. The intensity of the creature’s violence and his certainty that he could smash Jason to bits terrified him. “Are all the Scim like that?”
“More or less,” Kekoa said.
David shrugged and nodded.
“Then I’ll be beside you in the next battle,” Jason said. He regretted his words the moment they came out of his mouth. He didn’t know how to use a sword, and the biggest fight he had ever been in was in fifth grade when Maurice Mandrell had made fun of another kid for reading too much. Jason had gone after him with the book, determined to beat Maurice over the head with it. He had woken up in the nurse’s office. His friends said it seemed like Maurice had been tired after beating Jason unconscious, so he counted that as a victory. It didn’t matter, though. Now he had said he was going to fight the Scim, and that meant there was no turning back. Not if he was going to be completely honest in everything from now on. He had to keep his word.
“Welcome to the War Party,” David said, smiling.
“Brah,” Kekoa said. “We have not settled on that name.”
They argued about it all the way back to their room. Jason tried to put Break Bones out of his mind, but he kept seeing those heavy chains shuddering under the creature’s massive strength. In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have shared Madeline’s name. Or his own.
10
THE STONE FLOWER
Thus the Aluvoreans left in peace to populate the woods of the world.
They are a gentle race, though some say they have come to love their trees more than people, a great misfortune.
“Put these on,” Shula said, handing Madeline a pair of thin white gloves. Madeline had already put on the white dress with its high neck, long sleeves, and low hemline.
She spun for Shula. “I’m not getting married, am I?”
The gloves fit perfectly, just like the dress. She hoped there wouldn’t be a veil.
“Every newcomer wears white for twenty-eight days. So the citizens know to be patient when you don’t know the culture.”
Sunlight filtered in through their open window. A trellis of a mint-like plant grew outside, and the scent wafted to them. The temperature was perfect, and Madeline hated to cover herself completely when she could be baking in the sun.
Mrs. Raymond brought them breakfast: a warm cereal, similar to oatmeal, with tart purple berries on the side. In the future they’d be eating in the “common room,” but since she hadn’t had the basic orientation, Madeline wasn’t supposed to be with the others. She sat on the windowsill and took a deep breath, marveling again at her return to health.
“How did you come to be here, Shula?”
Shula pulled on a pair of long leather boots. “Like everyone else. The Elenil offered me my heart’s desire in exchange for fighting the Scim.” She frowned. “Those monsters. I would have fought them for nothing.”
“What did you get in exchange?”
Shula sighed. “I’ll share when you do.” She held up her left wrist, and the silver tattoo glittered on her arm. “As you can see, some of the bargain must be the same as yours.”
Madeline’s own tattoo shone in the morning light. “When do I start to fight?” Her heart pounded in her chest. Fighting scared her. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, let alone kill them, and it seemed clear people were talking about full-out war. Then again, from what Hanali said, the Scim were trying to kill her. So maybe it would be self-defense.
“They won’t make you fight until you want to fight,” Shula said, shrugging into a light jacket. “Today we’ll talk to the storyteller. The Elenil will give you a sort of history lesson to show you how unique and wonderful the Court of Far Seeing is before they ask you to defend it. When your first month is done, they’ll know you well enough to give you your job for the rest of your stay here. You’ll probably get some local work in the city until then . . . Maybe guard duty, or running messages, something like that.”
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