Steel Crow Saga

by Paul Krueger

The sergeant was breathing hard, as if she’d been the one in the ring instead of Beaky. She’d broken out in sweats again, and when Xiulan approached her, she whirled entirely too fast to face her. Beaky hopped to her side, and though he couldn’t emote in a way Xiulan understood, she got the message anyway.

  “Sergeant,” Xiulan said slowly. “Are you…calm?”

  Tala nodded, shoulders heaving. “I am now.” She looked around. “So what happens now?”

  Xiulan blinked in disbelief. “I do think,” she said, “that I’ve just won.”

  In contrast to the clouds and rain of the previous day, today the sky couldn’t have possibly been any clearer. The roads had been relatively clear, too, but the closer Lee and Jimuro got to Hagane, the more congested they became. A sign by the side of the road declared them to be ten miles outside the city limits, and the traffic had cut their cruising speed in half.

  Lee glanced out the window at the cars crawling past them. There were Tomodanese cars, of course, but also the beetle-like automobiles of Dahal, and the boxier models favored by Shang and, to a much lesser extent, Sanbu. The two nations had only developed the ability to mass-produce motorized cars toward the end of the war, with designs purchased from Dahal. It always made their vehicles look a bit primitive by comparison, though the way Lee saw it, at least they didn’t require the presence of a Tomodanese person.

  Still, she thought as she regarded her driver, as far as Tomodanese went, he was about as good as she could hope for.

  “You ever think about how anyone could look out their window right now, see you, and call it in?” Lee said.

  Prince Jimuro’s mouth tightened as he shifted over a lane to the right. “My likeness has never been available for public consumption.”

  “That doesn’t help you much. I’ve been with you a day, and I’ve already noticed that you look at the world like you expect it to be handed to you.” Lee smirked. “Never had to keep your head down before, eh?”

  “I’m beginning to think I’d be better off if I had some practice.” The princeling checked his mirrors, then shifted over another lane. “I imagine you are well practiced in the art.”

  “Of not getting dead?” Lee said. “I know a thing or two.”

  Prince Jimuro frowned, then hesitated. “I have a question, but I don’t know how to ask it without sounding rude.”

  “Oh no, not a rude question,” Lee deadpanned.

  The princeling sighed. “Fine. Why do the Shang hate you so much?”

  Lee’s grin was without satisfaction or mirth. It was the very question she’d been expecting. “You think we Jeongsonese haven’t asked one another that?”

  “I’m sorry,” Prince Jimuro said, color rushing to his ears. “Forget I asked.”

  “Don’t think I will,” Lee said. “Far as I know, we were just living on land they wanted. Or maybe they thought our language was stupid. Or one of us tried to tell them our whole idea of what happens when you die, and they said, ‘You’re wrong, see for yourself.’ ” She chuckled ruefully. “Whichever one it actually was, it doesn’t really matter. If it hadn’t been that reason, they would’ve just picked one of the others. But it’s not just Shang, you know.”

  Prince Jimuro nodded, eyes riveted on the road ahead. “I do.”

  “When Tomoda showed up and kicked Shang’s teeth in, we even helped you people do it, a little. We figured anyone who wanted to beat up the guys who were beating us up couldn’t be that bad, right? But once you got what you wanted from Shang, you turned around and started beating on us, too. Between the two of you, there’s barely a Jeongson left. Hell, once we’d booted you people completely out, I wouldn’t be surprised if General Erega swung by with her whole army, just to piss on our soil. It’s probably her turn. Do you guys keep a chart or something?”

  Jimuro swallowed, a lump visibly bouncing in his throat. “I wish I could apologize enough,” he said carefully. “I may not have personally had a hand in Jeongson’s suffering, but as Steel Lord I’ll bear responsibility for everything my people have done.”

  Lee studied his hands for so much as a tremor, and found none. Just a few hours ago, he’d admitted he didn’t think he was up to ruling, or living. Now he was talking a big game about what he would and wouldn’t do with his fancy new job. Unsure of how to respond to all that, she contented herself with a slow nod, and no words.

  Prince Jimuro flicked a switch near the steering wheel, and the air filled with a soft clicking.

  Lee snorted. “You actually use your turn signal?” On Shang’s roads, the blinker lights ended up being more of a suggestion.

  Prince Jimuro nodded. “My mother once told me that people who don’t use their turn signals are people who spit on the spirits and deserve to be shunned by their ancestors after death.” He nosed the car off the main road and onto a thin dirt path branching off away from Hagane.

  Lee sat up a little straighter. “Not that I want to be the one telling you how to navigate your own backyard,” she said, “but you do remember the city’s that way, right?”

  “There’s more than one way to enter the great city of Hagane,” Prince Jimuro said.

  Before Lee could ask what he meant, the princeling jerked the steering wheel and sent the car straight off the road and careening for a nearby hill.

  Lee jumped up. “What’re you doing?” she shouted. “I thought we were past this!” She threw herself at the wheel, trying to wrestle it from his grip, but he fought her off.

  “Stop that!” Prince Jimuro shouted. “I need you to trust me!”

  Lee saw the wall of grass looming larger and larger in the windshield. What the hell was there to trust?

  But then the hillside disappeared, sliding out of their way to reveal the mouth of a tunnel that had been dug directly into the hill.

  Lee looked around wildly. “What the—?”

  “I told you,” Jimuro said. He twisted a knob on the dashboard, and the car’s headlights came to life just as the door closed behind them, plunging them into darkness. “You needed to trust me.”

  “It’s a lot easier to trust a guy if he tells you there’s a fucking door in the hill!”

  “I’ll admit, I may have been having a bit of fun,” Prince Jimuro said. “It’s an ingenious design, don’t you think? There’s a pressure-sensitive plate buried beneath the grass outside. My mother had it and others like it installed around the city limits, to hasten evacuations. One of these routes should take us directly to the palace.”

  “And to your big chair and shiny hat?”

  Jimuro grinned wanly. “Something like that.”

  The tunnel ended up being the smoothest part of their journey, by far. Lee hardly would’ve believed it at the outset. But then again, she hardly would’ve believed she’d be road-tripping with the Iron Prince of Tomoda.

  Or that she would have a shade.

  Who used to be the prince’s dog.

  She’d been having a weird week.

  Imagine going back to Danggae now, she thought. What would they think of you, Lee?

  That brought her up short. She hadn’t really given it a lot of thought, but with the end of her journey looming, she had to wonder: What would she do now? She guessed she could squeeze some back pay out of the Li-Quan for her services here, but it wasn’t like she had another gig lined up. And once the story of the past few days became known, she figured she’d be too recognizable to go back to petty thieving. That one hit her hard, once she thought of it. She hadn’t even realized what she’d be giving up when she signed on with Xiulan.

  As thoughts of the Twenty-Eighth Princess surfaced, that bubble in her chest appeared again. A quick roadside check-in with Bootstrap had confirmed that yes, her partner had made it into the city. But her relief was numbed by that damn bubble. It swelled and swelled, swallowing everything in its path until it was the only thing Lee ha
d room for inside herself anymore. And at the center of it: an acutely imagined rendering of the hurt in Xiulan’s eye when Lee looked into it again.

  “You look pensive,” Jimuro said.

  Lee leveled a glare at him. “Eyes on the road, not my face.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence.

  * * *

  —

  The tunnel came to its end so abruptly, Lee didn’t notice it until Jimuro slowed the car to a stop. “We’re here,” he said, letting his hands fall from the steering wheel. Lee could see the trails of sweat on it that he’d left behind, and how his fingers twitched nervously against his thighs as he wiped his palms dry.

  Stepping out, Lee saw now that while the floor of the tunnel had been paved in concrete, the walls were merely packed earth, with rows of iron support beams stretching back into the distance like the ribs of a dragon. And hanging directly in front of the car was a simple steel ladder.

  Lee stared up as high as she could, until the darkness swallowed the ladder’s rungs. “That’s it?”

  “You were expecting a grand entrance hall, perhaps?” said Prince Jimuro.

  “I’m just saying, if you’re going to steal the rest of the world’s metal, might as well be doing something interesting with it,” she said, and then climbed.

  At the top of the ladder was a heavy steel hatch with a release valve. “You need to metalpact this?” she called down to Prince Jimuro.

  “No,” he replied from a few rungs below. “My mother took great pains to ensure that as many facilities as possible were universally accessible.”

  “Nice of her,” Lee muttered, reaching for the hatch.

  But just then, it flipped itself open with a loud clank. Before Lee could react, a steel cable whipped down, wrapped itself around her outstretched wrist, and yanked her right through the open hatch and into the light.

  The room looked small and out-of-the-way, but Lee didn’t have much time to appreciate it, what with the flying through the air and all. She landed hard on the floor like a fresh-caught fish, and even as a guard in a blue kimono stepped forward to demand who she was, she managed to gasp out: “Bootstrap!”

  The space was a little too small for the dog-shade, and Lee acutely felt Bootstrap’s anger as she closed her jaws around the forearm of the nearest guard and slammed him into a wall with a toss of her head.

  “Wait!” Prince Jimuro called from the ladder.

  “Slavers!” cried a tall, older woman with a sharp gray undercut and a weather-beaten face. Lee saw now that the cable wound around her wrist was tied to an apparatus on the woman’s wrist. When the woman clenched her fist, a spike of heat ran through the cable, and Lee’s wrist burned with pain.

  With a shout, Lee tried to rip her hand free, but the cable just wound itself tighter. Another one snaked through the air, wrapping itself around her other wrist, and the two yanked her feet off the ground. “Bootstrap, help!” she yelled, but her shade was surrounded by four more guards, all dressed in the same blue-and-white kimonos. In unison, they hurled out more cables, which wrapped themselves around Bootstrap’s legs and flanks and pinned her in place.

  And then Prince Jimuro popped out of the hatch like a mole and roared, “Will everybody kindly stop trying to murder one another in my palace?”

  At the sight of him, the guards all chorused: “Your Brilliance!” At once, the cables retreated, depositing Lee roughly on the floor. Bootstrap stood and shook, a ripple running through her fur. And the guards who’d had her completely dead to rights had all sunk to their knees and abased themselves, their foreheads pressed to the floor.

  Lee blinked. She’d spent the past week of her life hobnobbing with royalty, but this was the first time it had really sunk in for her how much power one of them could wield if they were allowed to.

  Prince Jimuro had pulled himself entirely out of the hole and gotten to his feet. “Captain Sakura.”

  The tall woman rose to one knee, though her head remained bowed. “Your Brilliance. Words can’t express how happy I am to see you here again.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” he said gently. “I’m glad the Kobaruto has stayed sharp in my absence.”

  “True steel never loses its edge,” Captain Sakura said. She cast a wary glance Lee’s way. “Your Brilliance, may I ask who…?”

  “Lee’s fine,” Lee said cheerfully. “That’s what it says on all the wanted posters, anyway.”

  “Lee was one of my escorts,” said Prince Jimuro. “You have her to thank for my safe delivery home.”

  If Captain Sakura had any more reservations, she didn’t show them. “How may the Kobaruto serve you?”

  “Send word to the Copper Sages. Tell them that General Erega has kept her word, and that they should make preparations for the coronation immediately. The rest of you, escort me to my chambers. We’ll use the servants’ corridors.”

  Captain Sakura pointed to one of her guards. “Tamaki.”

  “My captain,” they replied, before bowing to Sakura and Jimuro in turn and hurrying out of sight.

  The rest rose, though a few cast long, lingering looks of horror and recognition toward Bootstrap.

  Despite herself, Lee rankled at such visible distaste. “Stare all you want, steelhounds,” she snapped. “She stays with us.”

  In unison, every guard’s head swiveled toward Prince Jimuro.

  He nodded: just once, but with the kind of regality that meant he didn’t need to do it again.

  Lee had to give them credit. However they may have really felt about the situation, not a one of them betrayed it in expression or stance. She grinned in thanks to the prince as she scratched Bootstrap between her huge pointed ears.

  “Who’re these fanatics, anyway?” Lee whispered as they began their march through the bowels of the Palace of Steel. “And how can they all do such cool rope tricks?”

  “These fanatics are the Kobaruto,” Prince Jimuro said with bristle in his voice. “They’re the honor guard of the royal family, who rank among its most dedicated servants. And with the forced demilitarization, they currently represent the only armed strength I have left to command. Is that correct, Captain?”

  Captain Sakura nodded. “Yes, my liege. The provisional deal the Sages struck forbids us from carrying firearms anymore. But,” she added, holding up a wrist to show the cable rigging there, “we are far from defenseless.”

  “So you get ropes while everyone else gets shades and guns?” Lee said. “Sounds fair.”

  The captain drew herself up proudly. “The Kobaruto would defend His Brilliance’s life with sticks if that were all we were granted. We would defend it with our bare hands. And against any threat, we would prevail.”

  Lee smirked.

  But as they walked along, she found herself glancing sidelong at the captain every now and then. Assuming everything worked out with her and Xiulan (there was that damnable bubble again), was that a potential future for her? An ever-present attack dog at Xiulan’s side, to chill the princess’s enemies by day and warm her bed by night? In her gut, Lee felt a sense of recoil. She only had so long before she shuffled along to play her next role. In that life, where would there be room to play this one?

  They stopped outside a wooden sliding door, and Jimuro frowned. He looked as if he were trying to work something out. “These aren’t my chambers,” he said.

  The captain bowed low and slid the door open. “Yes, Your Brilliance. They are.”

  The room she revealed made Lee’s jaw drop, if only from the sheer size of it. Like the palace in Kohoyama, it was sparsely decorated, but that did nothing to diminish the sense of awe she felt. If anything, it only increased it. The lack of clutter made it clear that the power and weight she felt came not from furniture and knickknacks, but from the actual space itself.

  A low bed floated like an island in the center
of the bare wooden floor, its black polished surface inlaid with simple, stark streaks of silver. Rather than gaudy red silk, there were plain blue linen sheets neatly folded atop the mattress. The walls were decorated not with massive tapestries but simple, solid blue hangings. A long table along the far wall held a collection of small sculptures rendered in jade and obsidian, and directly above that hung a pair of crossed swords. Along the next wall over sat a simple wooden desk. A stack of paper lay atop it, pinned in place by the weight of a shiny steel pen.

  But what really caught Lee’s eye was the low table next to the side of the bed. It bore only a single thing on it: a small framed photograph of a short, round man with a beaming smile; a tall and severe woman whose face Lee had seen exaggerated and caricatured in years of propaganda newsreels; and two young children, a boy and a girl, kneeling in front of them in yukata. The boy, skinny and bespectacled, frowned with a tight, closed mouth. But the girl beamed out at the world with a big, wide smile that proudly showed off her missing teeth.

  Jimuro wandered into the room as if in a daze. Right at the door, he stopped to remove his shoes, then carefully, quietly made his way across the floor. The Kobaruto hung back at a respectful distance, and Lee did the same. She was someone who had made her living by taking from others. But for the first time maybe in her entire life, she felt as if she were intruding.

  Next to her, Bootstrap stared longingly at Prince Jimuro’s back. She let out a soft whine, and a little ripple of concern lapped at Lee’s consciousness, followed by another of uncertainty.

  Lee patted her flank and nodded.

  As if Bootstrap understood the solemnity the occasion called for, she didn’t bound for Prince Jimuro. She padded across the floor with the same deliberateness that he had. The Kobaruto watched her warily, but none of them moved to intercede as she came to rest beside the prince. Wordlessly, he reached out and began to stroke the back of her neck, and the dog-shade sat at his touch and bowed her head.

  Lee stooped to remove her own boots. But Jimuro turned around and held up a hand. “Not so fast,” he said. She saw he wasn’t crying just yet, but his eyes had already turned red and he was blinking very rapidly. “I have a job for you, Inspector Lee.”