by Cindy Lin
“Very well,” said the Tigress. “Face off against Nezu. You will both wear sparring armor and use blunted blades in order to get in the full range of cuts and strikes without harm.”
Usagi had never worn armor, but once she gripped the sword Saru handed her, it seemed like a good idea. Though the metal blade was blunt, it still looked like it could do real damage. Saru helped her into a black lacquered bamboo breastplate, a protective apron with leather panels, padded gloves that ran up her forearms, and a padded helmet with a metal grille over her face. It was all terribly bulky, and hard to see clearly with the helmet on. She peered through the grille and saw Nezu in the same equipment. Faceless and armored, he looked uncannily like a Striker, a nightmare come to life. Unbidden, the image of her sister tied up in the back of the Striker cart flashed in her mind’s eye.
Feeling dizzy, she asked for a moment and knelt by the side of the mats. Closing her eyes, Usagi breathed deeply and evenly, concentrating on the air moving in and out of her lungs and minding the mind. Focus. When she opened her eyes, she saw the Tigress looking at her approvingly.
Calm again, Usagi faced Nezu on the mats, with Inu acting as their referee. They exchanged bows.
“Let’s go, Usagi! You can do this!” Saru and Tupa clapped from their seats at the edge of the sparring area. The Tigress sat nearby, observing in silence, her cloud leopard lying at her side.
Inu shouted, “Begin!”
“Ki-yah!” Nezu howled, and lunged. Usagi faltered. Thwack! Nezu’s blade glanced off her helmet. Too late, Usagi ducked and hefted her blade with a grunt. The blade was heavier than she was used to.
Clang! Usagi took a step back. Clatter! Another, as Nezu shoved at her. Crash! With a thump, Usagi landed onto the padded straw flooring, her sword skidding away. She grimaced and lay unmoving as Nezu pointed his blade at Usagi’s throat.
“Halt!” Inu called. “Point goes to Nezu!” He helped Usagi up. She got back into position and adjusted her helmet, suddenly grateful for its bulk.
“Begin!”
Setting her jaw, Usagi charged. Crack! Nezu’s sword crashed against Usagi’s breastplate. Oof. Another point to him. In the next round, he struck her gauntlet, then her helmet. Ow. Usagi shook out her arm and glanced at the Tigress. The old warrior’s pinched expression had yet to change. Kumo blinked sleepily beside her, his head on his giant paws. Anxious flutterings started up in her chest. Don’t fail Uma again.
“Stop giving him points!” Saru cried.
Tupa gestured at his torso. “Spirit-breath!” he reminded. “Use your voice!”
Nodding, Usagi got into position. Sweat stung her eyes. She gripped her sword with damp palms and squinted at Nezu.
“Begin!”
Usagi lumbered forward and swung, shouting with all her might. “Ki-yah!” A resounding crash filled the hall as her sword crossed Nezu’s, the blades rattling as they pushed at each other. With a growl, she pulled away and swung again, catching him squarely on the helmet.
“Halt!” Inu called. “Point goes to Usagi!”
Finally. Usagi pumped her fist. But for the next round, the harder she tried, the more she struggled. Her limbs felt leaden, she could barely see, and she was gasping for breath. Usagi could hear her heart beating a panicked drumbeat as she fended off Nezu’s blows, unable to get in a strike of her own.
She spotted an opening and swung her sword. Nezu parried, hard, and aimed a hit at her wrist. Usagi jerked away and felt a searing pain as Nezu’s blade slipped over the edge of the gauntlet. He’d cut her arm, right where it was exposed. She dropped her sword with a cry of surprise.
Blood quickly seeped out, a darkening patch of red that soaked her sleeve. Usagi fell to her knees, light-headed. Tupa rushed up and caught her as the other Heirs gathered round. They took off her armor and examined the cut.
“No visible bone,” Inu said, looking relieved. “It’s not too deep.”
Usagi couldn’t say anything—the cut felt deep to her. She squeezed her eyes shut and moaned, biting her lip to keep from screaming.
“I’m so sorry,” babbled Nezu, his face paler than Saru’s.
“What was that?” Tupa roared at him. “You should have been more careful!”
“Stand aside, Ram Heir,” said the Tigress. She knelt beside Usagi with the Apothecary in her gnarled hands. Sliding open its various compartments, she mixed several powders with drops from a few tiny glass vials until she had a pungent mud-colored paste. She applied it to Usagi’s cut. A soothing warmth stopped the pain and bleeding immediately. Usagi sighed with relief.
As the tense expressions on the Heirs slackened, the Tigress bound Usagi’s arm with a strip of cloth. “Leave it on for a bit.” The old warrior stood. “As I suspected, you are not ready.” Behind her, Kumo yawned and shook himself, then began licking his hindquarters. “But I will not banish you from the shrine, as this was never a full-fledged Trial. Consider yourself fortunate for this exception.”
“Please, let me try one more time.” Usagi clutched at Horangi’s gnarled hand. “Tomorrow?”
The Tigress pulled from Usagi’s grasp. “Enough. We have no more time to waste on your notions. We leave in three days.”
“I’m sorry, Usagi,” Saru whispered.
Tupa gave her a sad smile. “You did really great, you know.”
Crushed, Usagi stumbled to her feet. She bolted out the door, even as the Heirs called after her. She ran through the trees, crunching across slushy snow, until she reached the prayer pavilion. She stared out over Crescent Lake, eyes hot and dry, too angry at herself to cry. How could she help her sister and Tora now? Usagi pounded a clenched fist against the gilded railing. When she heard Inu and Nezu coming, she slipped away. At the Tree of Elements, she heard Tupa calling and got out of the hollow before she could be discovered. She moved constantly, avoiding everyone. She looked for refuge in the Singing Bamboo, in the kitchen, in the sleeping quarters—even the goat shed.
Finally she ducked into the library, where her calligraphy work was laid out. Usagi picked up a sheet of paper on which she’d written the seven words she’d practiced for months. They seemed to taunt her. Use the brush as your sword, the Tigress had once said. But what use was all that practice when she’d failed the Trial with a real one? Gritting her teeth, Usagi crumpled the paper and threw it across the room, just as the Tigress appeared in the doorway with Kumo. The cloud leopard lunged for the ball of paper and batted it across the floor.
“We can still use you as a scout, Young Rabbit.” The old warrior’s gaze was steady as her green eyes met Usagi’s. “You need not stay behind.”
“Maybe I should. You saw what happened.” Usagi stared at her hands.
“There is no time for dwelling on what you cannot change.” The Tigress checked Usagi’s arm and grunted in approval. The cut had already healed completely. But Usagi still felt the agony of it somehow.
“I thought I could do more. I want to do more.” Her voice quavered. “But I keep failing.”
“Failure does not predict future failure. It is simply a delay, not defeat. Failure is the seed from which success springs,” said the Tigress. She picked up the ball of paper and smoothed it out. “There is more to being a Warrior than just carrying a weapon. While your calligraphy has a fine quality of line and movement, I fear that you have not absorbed the meaning of these words at all.” The old warrior let the paper fall onto the table, and Kumo laid his furry muzzle over it. “Your talents are still needed. Serving as a scout does not diminish your importance on this mission. Now, will you come help save the other younglings or not?”
Sniffling, Usagi rubbed her eyes until she could see clearly. The cloud leopard nudged her with a gentle bump of its head. She gave a faint smile and rubbed Kumo’s velvet nose, then squared her shoulders. “I’m coming.”
The morning of their departure from the shrine arrived with a warm breeze. Usagi hauled the last of the packs to the courtyard and collapsed on the wooden platform. Kumo stopped hi
s agitated pacing and sniffed her. The Tigress had forbidden the cloud leopard from accompanying them. “He would attract far too much attention,” she’d said. He snorted, blasting Usagi with hot breath, then resumed stalking about the courtyard with a glower.
For two straight days and nights, they’d prepared in a fever of activity. Usagi helped Nezu pack rice balls, dried fruit, salted fish, and other food for their journey. She assisted the Tigress and Saru in going over their supply of medicines and ointments, using the Bowl of Plenty to restock. She oiled blades and inspected arrowheads with Inu, and patched and mended their traveling packs alongside Tupa. In everything they did, Usagi offered up a prayer to the spirits of the first Twelve, asking them to bless the mission.
With a sigh, she got up from the platform and joined the others in doing a final check around the compound, securing doors and windows, and making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. Gods be good, the next time she was back here, her sister and Tora would be with her. She itched to check the Mirror of Elsewhere and see them. If only she could bring it on the journey. She would take one last look before they set off, just to make sure Uma and Tora were still okay. Usagi slipped into the Great Hall.
But the room wasn’t empty. Tupa stood before the chest of the Treasures, his back to her. As she drew close, he turned, startled. “Rabbit Girl!” He gave her a broad smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” Waving her over, he pointed to the opened drawers, four Treasures nestled inside. “I really think we need these with us on this mission,” he confided. “Packing extra medicines and food is well and good, but this is our most dangerous assignment yet. What if we’re caught in a bind?” He picked up the Coppice Comb. “Wouldn’t this be useful?”
“I used that to hide once, when the Guard was chasing me,” Usagi said. “It definitely helped.” She hesitated. “What does the Tigress say?”
The Ram Heir shook his head. “I haven’t asked. What if Teacher says no? We’d waste time arguing. We should bring them in case we get in a situation where we need the Treasures. Think about it—we could use the Bowl of Plenty to help feed all the younglings, and the Mirror could help us keep an eye on the Dragonlord even when we’re on the grounds of the palace.”
“That’s true,” said Usagi. “I was just wishing we could have the Mirror with us.” She glanced up at the poem describing the Treasures, then at the four open drawers. “But it seems risky to take them from the shrine. You’ve all spent so much time hunting these down.”
Tupa handed her the mirror. “All the more reason to keep them close. I’ve thought about this for years—what if the Twelve was weakened because they didn’t make full use of the Treasures after the Shield came down? On this mission, we need every advantage we can get.” He pulled out the comb. “Take this too,” he told her. “I’ll keep the Bowl and the Apothecary in my robe. Believe me, we’ll be glad of them if we run into trouble.”
Usagi rubbed her thumb over the back of the Mirror of Elsewhere and stared down at the comb, feeling its familiar weight and shape in her palm. This was perfect—she could easily check on her sister and Tora until they were rescued. And she’d kept the comb safe for five years, so what would it hurt to carry it once more? She took a deep breath, her heart skipping a beat. “All right.” She slipped the Treasures into her belt, tucking them snugly in the spot where she’d always kept the comb.
“Excellent,” said Tupa happily. He secreted the bowl and pillbox into the voluminous folds of his robe, and slid the chest drawers shut. “It’s a shame the Tigress hasn’t found a way to repair the Jewels of Land and Sea.”
“I think she has,” said Usagi. “I saw her with a piece of jade—she made a new bead for the necklace.”
The Ram Heir’s eyes widened. “Really?” He stroked his goatee, thinking. “Do you know if she keeps it on her?”
Usagi shrugged. “I think so. At least she did the last time I saw it.”
“Perfect,” Tupa said. “If Horangi’s carrying it, we’ll have the powers of five Treasures with us.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “All right, Rabbit Girl. Let’s go get your sister.”
They stepped out of the Great Hall and fastened the doors, then joined the others in putting on their packs. “What took you so long?” asked Inu with a scowl.
“We got sidetracked in there, talking about arming ourselves with powerful weapons,” Tupa said with a laugh.
Horangi frowned. “The most powerful weapons are . . .”
“The mind and the heart,” they all chorused. Usagi and the Heirs exchanged grins.
The old warrior sniffed. “As long as you do not forget.” She gave her unhappy cloud leopard a few last scratches. “Guard the shrine well, Kumo.” Horangi looked at them all and nodded. “It is time.”
Chapter 19
Pearl Garden Encounter
THEY LEFT THE SHRINE, Tupa carrying the Tigress on his broad back, traveling at spirit speed down Mount Jade and on through the wilderness, heading north toward the capital. Leaping, sprinting, and springing across remote woodlands, meadows, and hills, they covered the miles in hours instead of days. Usagi thought of her arduous trek to Mount Jade six months prior, and thanked the gods. She’d come a long way since then.
At the end of the third day, they reached the Ring Road. Few other souls were about. In the safety of the trees, Usagi and the Heirs changed into entertainers’ clothing, with the exception of Tupa, who kept on his monk’s robes. They donned bright patterned coats and belts over white pants and tunics, with the plan to visit a particular inn just outside the capital. Everyone traveling on the Ring Road stopped there, and the Heirs believed they could gather useful information.
“Now that we have Usagi,” said Saru, “we’ll hear so much more than we could before.”
Inu nodded. “People like to talk—it’s how we tracked down the Treasures.”
Uncomfortably, Usagi adjusted her belt, feeling for the comb and mirror. It felt strange to be carrying them without the others knowing, but Tupa caught her eye and smiled. “The right word at the right time can open all sorts of doors,” he agreed. He stuck a hand in his pocket and gave Usagi a conspiratorial wink. Hiding her smile, she winked back.
The sinking sun washed the sky in purpled pink. In the distance, rows of paper lanterns lit a sprawling three-story complex against the night. They had reached the Pearl Garden, the largest and finest inn outside the capital. A babble of voices, clinking cups, and uproarious laughter floated through the air.
Usagi stared at the curved eaves and elaborately carved columns in wonder. Two stone lions with dishes of salt in their snarling jaws guarded the entrance. The rich scent of grilled meats and long-simmering stews wafted through the door, shielded by a heavy indigo curtain. Her stomach growled.
Inu raised his head, sniffing. “I smell their famous Peddler’s Noodles.”
“Well, let’s go get some,” Nezu said. “I’m famished.”
“Just a moment,” said the Tigress from Tupa’s back. He let her down and handed over her staff. Grasping it in a gnarled hand, she gazed at them with stern green eyes. “Remember, we are going in to glean the latest information. Only engage with someone if Usagi hears something of interest. Order the bare minimum and focus on your surroundings.”
They murmured their agreement, Nezu with some disappointment. Usagi tugged her ears nervously as they approached the door. An old battered sign above the threshold proclaimed the strict no-weapons policy held by inns all across Midaga. An ugly gash, likely from a Guard’s sword, obscured where the “No” once was.
“A relic from before the war,” Tupa chuckled. “No one except the Guard carries weapons nowadays. Right?” He adjusted the power chain around his waist and winked.
Saru shrugged innocently. “All I have is my walking stick.”
“I wouldn’t dream of wearing a sword,” agreed Nezu, holding up the staff that concealed his blade. He flashed a grin.
Inu thumped his hollowed stick on the ground, jingling the chain and c
law hook inside. “Same here. Just my stick.”
Usagi glanced at the faint scar on her arm and felt the sting of her failure all over again.
They pushed aside a curtain flap and ducked into the inn. Usagi’s mouth dropped open.
She’d never seen such a place. The inn’s rooms were built several stories high around a central courtyard that held the tea garden. Amid potted plants, a cascading water fountain, and tiny dwarf trees arranged in miniature landscapes, dozens of tables were crowded with all manner of travelers eating, drinking, and talking—peddlers, blacksmiths, and farmers, as well as merchants dressed in strange foreign clothes from the neighboring empires of Waya and Hulagu.
The sounds of the inn were overwhelming after being in the quiet of the shrine and wilderness for so many months. Songbirds hopped about in bamboo cages that hung from the balconies overlooking the tea garden, their chirps competing with a trio of musicians on a raised dais in the corner, playing an exotic-sounding Wayani song with flute, lute, and zither. Multiple conversations in many accents filled Usagi’s ears. A few younglings carried trays of tea and rice wine to tables, and cleared empty dishes as a red-faced woman in a stained apron snapped her fingers and ordered them about.
They found themselves an empty table, and sat facing the bustling courtyard. The flood of noise swept over Usagi, and she struggled under the barrage of new sounds, unable to home in on anything. How would she manage to listen in such a racket? A boy who looked to be about Nezu’s age walked by with a tray of sizzling fish, their fragrant sauces jumping and spitting off the hot iron plates. Her mouth watered, and Nezu’s eyes widened. “That’s a new sort of dish—I think it’s from the Amami Islands. I’ll have to try making that,” he muttered.
“Please do,” said Inu, inhaling appreciatively.
Tupa smiled. “In the capital, there’s a newfangled way to serve soups and stews,” he told them. “They heat stone bowls till they’re red-hot, and your food cooks at the table. Apparently that’s how they do it in the Kingdom of Solongos.”