by Cindy Lin
Hitching up her pack, Usagi gazed at the winding staircase, framed by the ancient gate. As she went through the portal, she stroked the weathered wood, imagining the great trees that had been cut down to build the entrance to the shrine. A tingle ran down her spine. She was so close.
Chapter 13
Treasures of the Twelve
FLANKED BY AN ARMY OF trees, the staircase to the Shrine of the Twelve stretched up in a serpentine climb. Usagi couldn’t see where it ended, but could hear a faint chorus of flutes at the top playing snatches of a familiar tune. Furry green moss grew thickly along the staircase and coated the edges of each broad step. The Heirs followed the cloud leopard as it glided up the stairs, the Tigress on its back.
Usagi thunked her walking stick on each step she climbed, counting to herself. One thunk two thunk three thunk . . . twenty-eight, twenty-nine . . . sixty-four . . . She slowed. One hundred . . . two hundred. She lost count in the three hundreds, her legs burning. “Suffering spirits!” Usagi exclaimed, and stopped. Why weren’t they using spirit speed?
She launched into a hop. To her shock, she bounced against a stiff, invisible resistance. She stuck out a hand and felt nothing. Strange. Setting her jaw, she jumped again, and rebounded so violently she nearly toppled backward. With a grunt, Usagi tried once more, then kept hopping, only to go nowhere, stuck on the same step no matter how hard she leaped. It was as if she were throwing herself into an impenetrable mattress of air. Far above her, Nezu guffawed. He and Inu had turned to watch. Usagi stopped, panting. “What in the name of the Twelve is happening?” she shouted.
Snorting and clutching his stomach, Nezu wiped his eyes. “Oh, my belly. What a sight.”
“She looks like a cricket in a glass box,” Inu chuckled.
“By the gods, she does!” Nezu doubled over again.
Frowning, Usagi poked at the next step with her stick, and felt no resistance. She stepped up and prodded the next step. Again, no barrier. Odd. She walked up a few more steps, quickening her pace. Nothing stood in her way. Baffled, Usagi went for a leap. Oof! She bounced back so hard she tumbled over. Peals of laughter rang in her ears.
Her cheeks heated and she glowered at the boys. They were braying like a pair of asses and it wasn’t helping. She rubbed her cramping calves. It appeared she could get up the stairs as long as she didn’t try to skip any. With a sigh, Usagi grimly resumed climbing, one step at a time, while the others continued ahead. At long last, she reached the top, where the Heirs waited with the Tigress. Usagi collapsed at their feet, her muscles on fire.
“There must be a thousand steps here,” she gasped.
“One thousand, two hundred, and twelve of them, to be exact,” Nezu chimed, offering her his hand. Usagi scowled at him, and his face fell. “What?”
She shook her head and hauled herself up. “I’m glad you and Inu were so entertained.”
“You’d laugh too, if you saw yourself,” Inu protested.
“A warning would have been helpful,” Usagi huffed. “That was torture!”
Horangi stared down at her from the cloud leopard’s back. “To be a Warrior demands your full attention,” she said, her cold eyes like hard emeralds. “There are no short cuts. The Steps of Patience are a reminder of that.”
With a meek bow, Usagi followed as the Tigress led them onto a wide stone path surrounded by a stand of the tallest bamboo she’d ever seen, the dusky sky barely glimpsed through the feathery fronds. Though there was no breeze, the thick stalks swayed, and fluting melancholy notes floated above the whispering rustle of the leaves. The music Usagi had heard was coming from the bamboo itself. “You play that tune all the time,” she said to Inu. “Right before we go to bed.”
“You noticed?” Inu sounded pleased. “It’s from the Singing Bamboo. Tonight the grove will play us to sleep instead of me.”
Along both sides of the darkened path, tall figures stood sentry like frozen Guard, six to a side. Usagi peered through the fading light and saw they were stone lanterns shaped like different animals—one for each animal of the zodiac.
“They haven’t been lit since the war. Horangi won’t allow it,” Saru confided. “I think it’s too painful for her.”
They reached a courtyard lit with lanterns of a far more austere style. The Tigress slid off the big cat’s back and stroked its head before the leopard shook itself and slinked behind an enormous building facing the courtyard. More than two stories tall, it was built of unadorned wood, aged silvery gray by the elements. Dark forked logs protruded from the ends of the gabled bark roof.
“The Shrine of the Twelve,” Nezu announced proudly. “Soul of the Mount, where the heart of a Zodiac Warrior finds its home.”
The flanking buildings were long and slung close to the ground, built in the same simple fashion. A low wooden platform edged the gray-green tiles of the courtyard, connecting the buildings. Usagi hadn’t expected such a legendary place to be so plain. Aside from the bamboo grove’s ornate stone animal lanterns, everything looked humbler than she’d imagined.
Saru shrugged off her pack onto the platform with a sigh, then sat and looked around with hungry eyes. “It’s good to be back,” she said.
Legs rubbery, Usagi sat as well, allowing herself a small smile. She could hardly believe it, but she’d made it to the Shrine of the Twelve. She wanted to explore the grounds, the buildings, the Singing Bamboo. Her stomach erupted with a growl.
The Tigress turned at the sound. “Take the youngling with you and help yourselves to something to eat,” she told the Heirs. “Afterward, retire to the sleeping quarters for a full night’s rest. I want a complete report of your latest mission first thing in the morning.”
Inu yawned. “I can’t wait to sleep under a roof again.”
A sharp cry jolted Usagi awake. She squinted in the sunlight from an open window. The cry sounded again. Blearily she peered at the source. A mountain thrush sat on the windowsill, calling. Usagi sat up, startling the bird away in a flurry of wings. She rubbed her eyes and looked around, disoriented.
She was at the shrine, in a room spacious but spare, with whitewashed walls and a wooden floor dark with age. Her bedroll was on a long platform covered in reed matting. Extra bedding was stacked against the wall in piles of thick blue indigo mattresses, gray woolen blankets, and pristine white sheets. A light breeze drifted through latticed windows, the wooden shutters thrown open, carrying a soft chorus of flutelike melodies and the faint perfume of sandalwood incense.
“Ki-yah!” Saru’s shout reverberated in the courtyard. “Ki-yah!”
“Not bad, Monkey Girl.” Inu sounded impressed. “Your form looks solid as ever. The Tigress should be pleased.”
Sliding out of bed, Usagi looked out the window. Inu sat cross-legged on the wooden deck that ringed the courtyard. Saru crouched before the enormous main building, moon blade in hand. The massive wooden doors behind Saru were open, revealing a cavernous room. Usagi craned her neck. Saru twirled her curved blade by its long handle, then kicked and spun, the ribbon of her topknot streaming in a circle behind her. She lunged with another fierce cry. “Ki-yah!” Suddenly, she snapped to attention, then bowed. “Good morning, Teacher!”
Inu scrambled up out of his seat and bent low. “Good morning, Teacher!”
The old warrior shuffled into the courtyard, her wooden staff tapping on the stone tiles. The hood of her persimmon-colored robe was down, revealing her silver-white hair with its streak of black. “Morning.” It was a statement more than a greeting.
“Nezu is making your favorite dish for the morning meal,” Saru told her.
The Tigress tsked, frowning. “I wanted a mission report from all three of you.”
“Saru and I can present the Treasures,” Inu offered. “We’ve taken them to the Great Hall.”
“Did you place the Treasures with the others?”
“Of course. I’ll show you now!” Inu loped through the massive doors of the outsized building, followed by Saru and the Tigress
.
Anxious to see, Usagi changed as quickly as she could, flinging her bedding into a haphazard pile. She braided her snarled hair with hasty fingers and ran out of the sleeping quarters. Blinking in the bright morning sunshine, she hurried across the courtyard. The mouthwatering aroma of grilling fish was in the air. Nearby, the Singing Bamboo swayed musically, the stalks even taller than she remembered. The Great Hall cast a looming shadow across the stone tiles. Sidling to the open doors, Usagi peeked in.
A polished wood floor gleamed before her like Sun Moon Lake. Bright silk banners fluttered from the soaring ceiling. Scrolls of fine paper hung from the walls, some painted with delicate landscapes, others with graceful calligraphy. Usagi’s eyes widened at the formidable assortment of weapons hung on the wall in ordered rows, displaying swords, poleaxes, moon blades, tridents, spiked clubs, and other weapons she couldn’t identify. A wide expanse of thick straw mats, bordered in sturdy black cotton, were laid out before the wall of weapons—the perfect place to practice and spar.
Against the facing wall, Saru and Inu stood with the Tigress at a lacquered wooden chest. It sported a dozen drawers with brass ring pulls and designs in silver and gold leaf. They opened two of the drawers, describing to Horangi how they’d distributed rice, beans, and millet to local villagers while hunting for the Treasures. Venturing closer, Usagi listened to their account of how they’d recovered the mirror and found her with the comb. The Tigress looked up and nodded curtly as Usagi bowed, then turned her attention back to the drawers. She brought out the Mirror of Elsewhere, caressing the burnished metal with gnarled fingers, then picked up Usagi’s carved wood comb.
“Indeed, this appears to be the Coppice Comb,” the old warrior murmured, her green eyes glowing. She placed both items in the sleeve of her cloak. “I must inspect these more closely. Go on to the morning meal and I will join you shortly.” Shuffling off, she brushed past Usagi without a word.
“Where is she taking the Treasures?” Usagi wondered. Her fingers itched to tuck the comb back where she’d carried it for five years, and she longed for a peek in the Mirror of Elsewhere, wanting another glimpse of Uma. How were she and Tora being treated at the Dragonlord’s Striker school?
“Probably to the pavilion by Crescent Lake,” said Inu. “She’ll test them both to make sure they’re in good condition. It’s what she did with these.” He slid open a drawer to reveal a hammered metal bowl. “The Bowl of Plenty.” Pulling open another drawer, he brought out a cunningly carved pillbox made of interlocking sections. “The Apothecary.”
With a delicate finger, Usagi touched the bowl. “What do they do?”
Saru pointed to a scroll hanging directly above the chest. “When the Treasures were first created, one of the objects was the Pen of Truth, and the first thing it wrote was this poem.” She read it to Usagi.
“Look closely at these items if one is to see their measure
These may appear quite common but they’re truly gifted treasure.
Together they will help the power of the Twelve to shield
The island shall be safe from harm and never have to yield.
In turn the Twelve must keep them close and treat them with great care
For should the bond be broken then Midaga is laid bare.
The fan shall bring the winds
From every corner of the sky.
The comb will turn into a copse
Of trees that spring up high.
The belt can bridge both stream and gap
And as a raft will float.
The flute casts a beguiling spell
With each and every note.
The hammer with one strike
Will briefly bring what one might need.
The bowl can multiply its fill
So more than one can feed.
The jewels of land and sea will call
Upon the mount and tide.
The mirror is a window
On happenings far and wide.
The cloak wards off not just the chill
But any sort of flame.
The pillbox holds the treatments
For most ailments to be tamed.
The ring calls forth great clouds of mist
In which one can be hidden.
The pen writes only what is true
No falsehoods can be bidden.”
“Spirits.” Usagi stared at the ornate chest with its twelve drawers. “And you’ve now tracked down four Treasures.”
“Yes, but they were the easier ones,” said Inu, raking his shaggy hair till it stood on end. “We had an idea of where some might be, since our masters had carried them. Now that we have the Mirror of Elsewhere, it will help—but if you don’t know where something is, you’ll only get a general impression of its location. So the rest of the Treasures will still be a challenge to find. The Ram Heir has one of the toughest assignments, trying to learn what happened to the Dragon Warrior’s destroyed Treasure. It could take years—he’s already been away for nearly two.”
“Oi!” Nezu appeared in the doorway. “Are you showing the Treasures without me?” Looking put out, he smoothed his whiskers. “Breakfast is ready. Come now, or everything will get cold!”
They followed him to one of the adjoining buildings, into a long dining room with a reed mat floor. Around a low table set with covered earthen pots, they settled on thick cushions.
Nezu lifted the lid off a bubbling pot and stirred it a few times, filling the air with an invitingly savory smell. He ladled Usagi a bowl of soup. “How’d you sleep?” he asked.
“Really well,” she replied. “I barely remember getting into bed.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “Where’s the cloud leopard?”
“Kumo? Out hunting, probably,” said Nezu. “Or sleeping somewhere. As long as he’s not in here . . . that big cat makes me nervous sometimes.”
“Of course he does, Rat Boy.” Usagi stifled a snicker.
“Funny,” said Nezu, rolling his eyes. “Eat while it’s hot.”
She sipped the steaming broth. Several plump white rice cakes drifted in the bottom of the bowl. Usagi fished one out and popped it in her mouth. The rice cake was warm, chewy, and filling. Her mother used to make these, pounding rice for hours to make a smooth dense paste. She poked at the remaining cakes, feeling suddenly homesick.
“What’s wrong?” asked Nezu. “Too much salt?”
Usagi shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. Was her sister getting enough to eat? Was Tora protecting them both—or would her fierce temper get them into trouble?
The Tigress shuffled into the room and settled on a cushion at the other end of the table. The others bustled about pouring her tea, handing her a pair of feedsticks, and getting her a bowl of soup, while Nezu laid a platter of hot grilled fish before her, their skins crisp and smoky. “Here, try these. Fresh from the lake out back.”
The charred heads of the fish had their tiny mouths gaping open as if calling for help. Usagi’s appetite fled altogether. She pushed her bowl away and stood, anxious to explore the grounds. Maybe she could get a closer look at the weapons in the Great Hall, or check the Mirror of Elsewhere for a peek at Uma and Tora.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” asked the Tigress with a flinty stare.
Usagi thought quickly. “I just thought I’d practice my stickfighting. After you’ve finished eating, I could show you all the stances Saru taught me.”
“That will not be necessary,” the old warrior replied. “If you intend to stay here, you must do your share of work like everyone else.”
“Of course!” Usagi gathered up her dirty bowl and feedsticks, embarrassed.
“That includes washing up all dishes after meals, fetching water, airing out the bedding, feeding the goats and hens, picking up after Kumo, and sluicing the outhouses. Along with any additional maintenance or cleaning that may be required as the need arises.” Horangi’s wrinkled face was expressionless.
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br /> Usagi faltered. That was a lot of work. “Can I show you my stickfighting skills after that?”
The Tiger Warrior’s green eyes narrowed. “What you need to show me is the ability to work hard. Nothing else.”
“But I thought . . .” Usagi chewed her lip. Hadn’t the Tigress said she would teach her? “I was hoping I could learn to fight like the Heirs, and to master my gift with wood. I could demonstrate . . .”
“I’ll show you where everything is, Usagi,” Nezu interjected. “You’ll be a huge help—I can always use extra hands to wash up after I cook!”
Dejected, Usagi collected some empty dishes from the table. She followed Nezu to the kitchen, where he helped her pile them in a washbasin.
“Don’t worry,” he told Usagi. “We all had to do tons of chores when we first arrived. She’ll give you lessons. Horangi is a true teacher at heart.”
Usagi gave him a wan smile. Rolling up her sleeves, she sighed. “I hope you’re right.”
The days became a blur of tasks—some of which made little sense to Usagi. Each morning, she had to rise early and fetch water from a stream that ran behind the shrine compound. But she was only allowed to use clay jars without handles, and told to carry them with just her fingers clamped around the mouths of the jars. It took at least a dozen trips with a heavy jar in each hand, and much splashing and soaked clothing before the stone trough behind the kitchen was filled.
The Tigress also had Usagi sift for things in containers filled with sand or grains. She dug through a bushel of rice to find seven chestnuts, and plunged her hands repeatedly through a deep bin of millet until she retrieved five dried beans.
“Maybe she’s misplacing things in her old age,” she speculated to Inu one day, elbow-deep in a bucket of fine sand. Inu raised his brows.
“Hardly,” he said. “The Tigress is as sharp as the Sword of the Snake. Besides, you’re not the only one with assignments. We’re still working on raising the bridge the Tigress cut down to challenge you.”