Steel Crow Saga

by Paul Krueger

  “Why do you even care?” said Jimuro. “From what I’ve seen so far, another war with Tomoda would be your fondest wish.”

  He’d expected a snarling rejoinder, but to his surprise some of the light dimmed behind her fierce, hawklike eyes. “Is that really what you think of me?” she said. “That I’m just hanging on until my next fight?”

  Jimuro’s laugh was mirthless and heavy with disbelief. “Sergeant,” he said, “when have you ever tried to convince me you were any other sort of person?”

  He trusted Tala enough to believe that no matter how enraged the sergeant became, his life was never endangered in her company. But as he asked the question, he felt the thrill of fear anyway, as he firmly set foot across some invisible line between them.

  Yet again, she didn’t rise to the provocation. The light in her gaze dulled further, as if his words had dealt her some hidden wound. “Fine,” she said quietly. “But if you’re giving the Steel Cicadas even some false hope about a new Tomodanese Empire…what about General Erega?”

  For only a moment, he felt a stab of guilt as he considered Erega’s craggy face, stony in its disappointment.

  “The general committed to building a peace with Tomoda,” Tala went on. “That’s the whole reason we brought you here instead of leaving you in a ditch somewhere. And I don’t care if they’re your old friends. Those guys are terrorists, Your Brilliance.”

  “ ‘Those guys’ are doing the job I should be doing, as Iron Prince and Steel Lord,” Jimuro said. “Protecting my people. Standing up for my country.”

  “Protecting your people?” the sergeant sneered. “The only reason we have clothes and a car is because you took them from your people at gunpoint.”

  That took him by genuine surprise. “What?”

  “Don’t waste time treating me like an idiot,” Tala said. “How else could you have gotten all those plus antivenin with empty pockets?”

  A dry cackle of disbelief escaped his throat. “It’s not often you maneuver yourself into defeat, Sergeant.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What the fuck do you—?”

  “My mother, the late Steel Lord, kept a box of her jewelry hidden beneath the floorboards at Kinzokita,” he said, with a mirthless laugh that just edged on taunting her. “I peddled away my children’s birthright to save your life. And I didn’t tell you,” he added to head off her question, “because I didn’t want you to feel beholden to me.”

  The stunned sergeant’s mouth opened and closed and opened again, as if she couldn’t quite form whatever words she wanted to say next. He knew it was inelegant of him to say anything else, but he found himself too incensed by how easily she’d believed the worst of him.

  So he leaned forward and offered quietly: “I believe the phrase you’re seeking is Thank you, Your Brilliance.”

  Chill settled between himself and Tala: first a frost, then rapidly solidifying into a wall of ice. “Of course,” she said eventually. He had to stop himself from flinching; there was something of his mother lurking in her cold, controlled tone. “Thank you for saving my tiny, worthless life…Your Brilliance.” Somehow, she’d found a way to make his honorific sound like an epithet. With that, she bowed stiffly, then turned on her heel and left.

  For a long time, Jimuro stood in that dark hallway, watching her go.

  And then he slid the door open and let the warmth of Kosuke and the other Cicadas wash over him as they welcomed him back.

  “What did the savage have to say for herself?” Kosuke said as Jimuro reclaimed his spot at the head of the table.

  “Please don’t call her that,” Jimuro said. For some reason, he didn’t feel so much like a returning hero anymore. He felt small.

  “As Your Brilliance commands,” Kosuke said with a shrug. The light caught his face like it would the edge of a blade, and the look he gave Jimuro cut just as deep.

  The prince dropped his voice. “Don’t do that, either,” he said. “Don’t talk to me like you’re other people. I’m not ‘His Brilliance’ to you. I’m Jimuro. I’ve always been Jimuro.”

  Kosuke favored him with a sake-slanted smile. “I’ve never thought of you as anything else.”

  Nonchalantly, his friend reached for a bottle of sake and poured out two fresh cups. He placed his fingers on the metal cups and concentrated a moment. Faint tendrils of steam wafted up from the sake. Satisfied, he handed one to Jimuro, who took it gratefully.

  Jimuro glanced around the room again. The air was thick with excited Tomodanese chatter, and the smells of well-cooked Tomodanese food. The sight of so many happy Tomodanese faces, the warm weight of the sake in his hand, even the distinct way the electric lights shone off the high, pointed ceiling…they all made his heart swell.

  “Now, my liege,” Kosuke said, catching the prince’s eye. “Clearly, you’ve missed the taste of sake. Is there anything else you’ve missed?” Hope glinted in his gaze: a hope Jimuro recognized.

  He studied Kosuke for a moment. The young noble put up a confident, easy air, but Jimuro saw stiffness in how he sat as he waited for his prince to respond. He was struck by the genuine admiration that shone in the other man’s eyes. After the flat-eyed disdain he’d weathered from Tala, it felt more nourishing than udon broth.

  He clinked his cup against Kosuke’s. “I could do with a bath,” he said simply. Kosuke’s entire face lit up, and by the spirits was it a good feeling. “Why don’t you join me?”

  She drove the car until its meager supply of gasoline gave out. There was supposed to be a spare canister of the stuff in the trunk, but a few too many hexbolts had fused it shut. So when the car finally sputtered to a stop by the side of the road, they simply abandoned it and started walking in silence. Xiulan didn’t have a paucity of things to say; when did she ever? But at this hour apparently Lee did, and a lifetime in the cutthroat court of Shang meant the princess knew how to read a room. So instead they walked side by side behind the huge dog-shade that lumbered through the trees ahead of them.

  But after another hour or so, exhaustion finally took its toll on both of them. When they were far enough away from the roadside, Xiulan suggested at last that they stop for the night.

  “Thank the dogs,” Lee said, immediately plopping down where she stood. “Thought you’d never quit.” Her new shade, Bootstrap, had wandered ahead, but now she ambled back over and nudged Lee with her huge wet nose. “That’s enough out of you,” the thief said sleepily. “C’mon, lie down.” Obediently, the dog-shade folded her legs beneath her body. Lee leaned up next to her, stretching, before casting a look Xiulan’s way. “What?”

  Xiulan had been caught breathless by the sight of Lee. When she stretched, the moonlight bathed her every angle and contour in a soft silver sheen. Xiulan found her eye tracing the shadows cast by Lee’s wristbones, the way her hair fell back from her face with every tilt of her head, the inviting curve of the spot where her neck and shoulder met…

  Xiulan coughed and shrugged out of her overcoat. “One of us should take watch.”

  “You,” Lee said, lying down against Bootstrap’s huge furry flank and closing her eyes.

  Xiulan snorted. “What ever happened to gallantry, Inspector Lee?”

  “Right, Princess,” Lee yawned. “That’s why I’ve got a price on my head in ten cities: gallantry.” She stretched out again, apparently not even slightly concerned with getting dirt on her dress. “Wake me up if there’s danger or breakfast. Preferably the second thing.” And then her entire body relaxed.

  Xiulan blinked. They’d slept in separate cabins aboard the Wave Falcon, so this was her first time seeing Lee Yeon-Ji at rest. It was like she’d just seen her become a completely different person. Without the veneer of cunning she wore on her face like a second layer of makeup, the thief looked so much younger. How much did she carry on her shoulders when she was awake? Xiulan wondered. What invisible weight
did she drag behind her each day, that made her seem so old?

  It was incredible how easily Lee could shrug it all off. Xiulan would’ve thought a thief like her would need to be on edge at all times, sleeping with one eye open and the like. Even the refined gentleman thief of White Diamond in a Black Glove had always kept his wits about him, and he slept in a gilded penthouse.

  So did you, once upon a time, she reminded herself. How’re you sleeping now, White Rat?

  “Kou,” she whispered, and her own white rat appeared. A warm wave of happiness rolled through her; Kou was always happy to see her. She patted the spot behind his ears that he liked. “Thank you for earlier.”

  He made a low chittering noise.

  “My associate here and I will be quite hungry come the morning,” she said. “Would you be so kind as to forage for some provisions?”

  Kou’s nose twitched, and then he turned and surged into the trees. In moments he was out of sight completely. She hoped he would bring back something other than mushrooms. He was quite fond of them, even though he was bonded to the soul of a woman who despised little more.

  Growing up, she’d kept her distaste for mushrooms secret. She ate around them when she could, or else smothered them in so much sauce that she’d be able to swallow them whole without getting any of the actual mushroom experience. She wasn’t certain how Ruomei had found out, though she’d developed a few theories over the years. All she knew was that one day, the amount of mushrooms the kitchen was putting out fairly well doubled. Dishes that once had small pieces of mushroom now had caps the size of the plates they were served on. Sauces became sparser. And soon enough, Xiulan found herself going to bed hungrier and hungrier.

  Her stomach twisted at the memory. It wasn’t so hard to believe that the girl who did that would grow up to be the woman who put a bounty on her own sister.

  She glanced back up at the moon and closed her eyes. She felt the cool light on her face as she dreamed of the day she would drag the Iron Prince into her father’s throne room, right past Ruomei’s stunned face, before she dropped him at the Crane Emperor’s royal feet. She wondered if there was some way she could arrange to have Ruomei be the one to crown her. It wasn’t really protocol, and she was just as likely to slip a garrote around Xiulan’s throat as she was a crown on her head. But after everything she’d endured at her sister’s hands, Xiulan felt she was due a bit of payback.

  She opened her eye. Her gaze fell back to the sleeping form of Lee. That was one of the reasons she enjoyed the thief’s company, come to think of it. Protocol dictated that she couldn’t speak ill of any of her siblings, let alone Ruomei. In that respect, Lee’s lack of regard for protocol was refreshing. For the first time in her life, she had someone in her life besides an easily bullied sibling, or a court-appointed playmate, or a loose-lipped servant. She had a friend. A partner. Someone she could trust.

  She heard the woman’s own voice in her head: Trusting a thief. That’ll get you far in life, Princess.

  She smiled at the memory.

  A medley of birds and bugs called in the darkness, including the famous singing beetles of Tomoda’s trees. But as time went on their voices became less and less distinct. After a few minutes, they had all coalesced into a single noise, and one she found oddly soothing. The only other sound was Lee’s soft, sleepy breathing, and the princess let the sound gently lap at her ears like a warm tide at her toes.

  In a gentle flash of white light, Bootstrap disappeared out from beneath Lee as she finally slipped into full unconsciousness. Proudly, Xiulan surveyed the matted ground where the shade had just been. Truly, she thought, today had been remarkable.

  She balled her coat up, then knelt next to her partner. Carefully, she slid her coat toward Lee, unsure of how best to wedge it beneath her head without waking her.

  Lee grunted. “Get on with it, then,” she muttered, lifting her head up.

  Xiulan smiled and slid her coat into place. Lee’s head dropped back down onto its folds, and her body relaxed once more.

  Xiulan busied herself with her pipe. Tomorrow, she promised herself, they would finally catch up to Prince Jimuro. They would sneak past his legion of Sanbuna escorts and steal him away right under their noses. There were Shang garrisons stationed nearby, and any one of them would be more than grateful to receive the Twenty-Eighth Princess, let alone one who was an agent of the Li-Quan. The bounty was troublesome, but nothing she couldn’t fix by showing up handcuffed to the most wanted man in the world.

  It would be her greatest victory, one that Ruomei could never take from her. And once their father made her his new heir, she’d merely need to survive a few years of assassination attempts before she could take her rightful place.

  She checked her tobacco case. She was starting to run low on the leaf. She thought she’d packed enough to last the whole trip, but she saw she’d been smoking it like it was going out of style. I should cut back, she thought as she lit up anyway.

  * * *

  —

  Kou didn’t bring back mushrooms, thankfully. He did find some clumps of berries that, according to her research on the native flora of Tomoda, were edible enough. She wished they could have had some fish or game to start the day off, but she was reluctant to make a fire. So when Lee shook her awake the next morning, they ate a hasty breakfast of bright-blue berries, then summoned up Bootstrap and got on their way.

  “Far as I can tell, she’s still got his scent,” Lee said as they trailed behind the lumbering dog-shade. “How’s that even work, then? She probably hasn’t sniffed the guy for years, and he’s got to be miles away.”

  Xiulan chewed thoughtfully on the button of her pipe. It wasn’t lit; she’d resolved to save the last of her leaf as a personal reward for finally apprehending the Iron Prince, when the time came. “The phenomenon isn’t unheard of,” she said. “Animals who form close bonds with a person before pacting with a soul may carry a special attunement with them into their next life.”

  “Suppose that tracks,” Lee allowed, with a shrug. “Because I’ll tell you what, Princess: Royal pain in the ass that he is, the princeling loved the shit out of this dog.”

  Xiulan’s eye sparked with curiosity. “What do you see?” she said eagerly. They couldn’t have lucked into a better pipeline for insight into their quarry’s thoughts. Bai Junjie could step into the criminal mind to make his brilliant deductions, but strictly on a metaphorical basis. When it came to detection and intuition, she and Lee Yeon-Ji stood alone.

  Well, as alone as two people could be.

  “Mostly, a whole lot of this and that,” Lee said. “It’s not like they sat this dog down and went over bank statements with her. It’s mostly just her and Jimuro playing, her and Jimuro having a nap…Not sure how having a pet squares with this whole thing the Tomodanese are on with animals, though.”

  This, Xiulan’s extensive readings on Tomodanese culture had prepared her for. “You’re examining the matter from the wrong angle. The Tomodanese believe in the primacy of the spirit, regardless of its vessel. In their eyes, the souls of man and dog command equal weight.”

  “Tch,” Lee said. “Haven’t met me a man yet who’d be worth half a dog.”

  “I hold men in similar esteem,” Xiulan said with an appreciative smile. “But I’m hardly Tomodanese. I don’t imagine the prince saw Bootstrap as his pet, during their companionship. It would be more in line with his beliefs to simply say she was his friend.”

  Lee patted Bootstrap’s massive flank. “Reckon I can’t fault him for that.”

  Xiulan eyed her partner thoughtfully. She almost didn’t say anything, but then decided she was feeling bold at the moment. “Why did you save her?”

  Lee didn’t quite look at her. “Like I told you: I like dogs.”

  Xiulan shook her head and chewed on her pipe. “I thought we’d agreed to proceed with honesty, Inspect
or Lee.”

  Lee shrugged again. “I was honest.”

  “Ah, but not completely so,” said Xiulan, wagging her slender finger. “You like money, too. But were it a sack of jian and not a dog lying there, you never would’ve coerced me into expediting its retrieval.”

  “I’m too hungry for this shit,” Lee muttered with a pat of her stomach.

  Feelings immediately arose and clashed within Xiulan. She worried she’d prodded her partner too far, while berating herself for being a princess of Shang who took no for an answer. Rather than act on either, she opted for diplomatic distance. “Very well.”

  It worked. Lee frowned and said, “You ordering me, as a princess?”

  “I’m asking you, as…” Your friend, Xiulan thought. Your comrade. Your companion. Your…“…your partner.”

  Lee sighed. “All right, all right. You really want to know?”

  Xiulan hoped her nod wasn’t too eager.

  “To the Jeongsonese,” Lee said, “there’re a finite number of souls in the world. Idea is, your soul cycles through each of the millions of roles it’s got to play, across all the life spans it needs to do it. Once your soul’s done everything it needs to do, though, you get a final reward: You get to come back as a dog.”

  Xiulan nodded. Her voracious reading had given her a keen feel for story structure, so she suspected she knew where this anecdote was going. But she didn’t interrupt; she liked the way Lee sounded when she was telling a story.

  “Now, my mom got herself the wasting cough when I was nine,” Lee went on. “Wasn’t a doctor in all of Shang who’d treat her, and it wasn’t like the Tomodanese were treating us any better. So all we could do was make the wait comfortable. You want to know when I picked up thieving and swindling? That’s when.”

  An uneasy chord of guilt rang through Xiulan. In the courts of her childhood, Jeongsonese affairs were either politely ignored or else blithely discussed with little respect or weight. The nonchalant way Lee cited Shang’s abuses made Xiulan’s whole being twist and squirm. She wanted to object, to assert that surely not all Shang were so callous to her, but she tamped that instinct down and listened.