The Art of Legend, page 37
It was barely enough to shadowstep. The darkness felt like muck, as if it were about to expunge her. She felt more friction going into the usually cool, bubbly sensation, as if she were smacking wet mud. It felt like every part of her body was being pulled and pinched by a hundred forefingers and thumbs, with a painful added twist. The world blinked black, and Qisami came back out again, using her momentum to catapult her from the other end of the shadow over the water to the very end of the pier.
She still came up short, her stomach taking the brunt of the impact as she bounced off the end of the pier, her legs dangled over the side while her fingers pawed at the wet wood, the ends of her toes kicking water. She was fortunate not to fall into the drink and managed to claw her way onto stable ground. She gave herself only a second to catch breath before getting up and limping—she had banged her knee pretty hard—toward the bamboo poles. Qisami grabbed a handful of the poles and toppled them into the water, using her toes to nudge them toward the viperstrikes still hanging off the net. She watched them as, one by one, they swung off the tube just as it oscillated, landing on the floating bamboo poles and running along them until they joined Qisami.
Wani gave her best effort, launching through the air as far as her little legs could power her, but she fell comically short, barely making it halfway across the water before plummeting into its depths. Sali expected it, however, and her stiffened tongue was waiting for her neophyte to grasp as Sali hauled her back to shore.
“Well done, shadowkill,” said Sali.
“You’re welcome.” Qisami practically preened.
The four emerged behind a row of buildings floating over the water near the tulip wall. Qisami moved to the lead and signaled the others to flatten against the wall.
She shadowstepped to the other side of the street to get a better vantage point and waited for a hundred counts before waving for the others to follow.
“We don’t have time to crawl around,” snapped Sali. “The warpod is about to get caught with her furnaces cold and leashed to the docks. We have to warn them before it’s too late.”
“You’re not warning anyone if you get mobbed by that plague of insects scurrying overhead,” Qisami snapped back. Indeed, the web levels above were swarming with those grasshoppers.
Qisami continued sneaking the three viperstrikes through the floating streets in the general direction of the warpod, hopping on boats and scampering on roofs. They turned off several more streets to avoid Sunjawa patrols until they were able to join a crowd heading toward the docks. Qisami was beginning to feel like she was trapped inside a fishbowl, with this city’s tall walls narrowing to a small opening pointing at the sky.
“Come on, kids,” she said to the two neophytes.
They had just made the last turn toward the outer gate when Qisami stopped short. There was a heavy barricade set up at the entrance to the harbor. A glance identified fifty-some oars raised like incense sticks. “Far too many grasshoppers to take on, especially behind a fortification. We’re going to have to sneak around somehow. Maybe hop on a junk and sail through the harbor?”
Marhi shook her head. “Bull’s balls, we’re too late. The chains are likely up. No ship is sailing out. The city’s locked down.”
Salminde stared at the heavily barricaded checkpoint. “We have to warn Daewon about the Liqusa pods. We don’t have a choice.”
“I might be able to sneak through,” said Qisami. “I can warn your tinker.”
“Daewon won’t listen to you. You assaulted him the other day.”
“I was being nice! I could have slit his throat and saved myself the trouble.”
“Choking someone out isn’t a good way to establish trust.” Sali shook her head. “One of my neophytes will need to accompany you.”
Marhi looked alarmed. “What about you, Sali?”
“I’m going to draw those oarsmen away. Once I do, crash into that checkpoint and break through to Not Loud Not Fat. You must not fail.”
Marhi’s nostrils flared as she stepped forward. “Let me do it.”
“I will draw the most attention.” The viperstrike shook her head. “I’m depending on you and the shadowkill to make it.”
“Good to be part of the team,” Qisami quipped.
This time, she was rewarded with a nod. Sali loosened her cloak to expose her shoulders and her coiled tongue at her waist. She turned down the main floating street heading toward the ten rows of five warriors guarding the narrow gates. Qisami wasn’t thrilled with the plan. The garrison was on alert. Two layers of barricades had come up, as had three—no, four—archers manning a tower nest hanging from a set of chains.
They would have to cut through many bodies to get through, but Salminde was right. They had only minutes, if that, to spare before it was too late for the warpod to pull out of the docks. If the enemy pods got to it first, then there went her ride back to civilization.
Salminde broke into a jog. Marhi and Wani followed close behind. Qisami let herself drag a bit, watching their surroundings. She still had a half block to cover before reaching the barricades. The Sunjawa were going to see them coming.
Qisami spied one of the grasshoppers staring at the jogging viperstrike. The tall Kati with the mohawk and scale armor wasn’t subtle. Instead of moving to confront Salminde, the warrior turned to flee.
Qisami shadowstepped into the shadow of a moving cart and emerged a few feet in front of the grasshopper. He pulled up, startled when she emerged from the darkness, and wasn’t able to raise his guard before she gutted him like a piggy. Qisami fell on him as he toppled over, gripping the heavy handle of her dagger. This was made for people with long fingers, which Qisami decidedly did not have.
She picked herself up. “I had to do a little housecleaning.” They were gone. The three viperstrikes had kept going. She noticed Sali’s beautiful mane and her two shorter neophytes several steps behind, halfway down the street.
“Hey, wait for me!” Qisami took off after them.
Sali smashed into the warriors with a crash. Her tongue whipped about, smashing shields and breaking formations, sending bodies hurtling through the air. More guards spilled from the guard house. Sali was overwhelmed when the Sunjawa warriors formed and countered. Then, to Qisami’s surprise, the viperstrike fled in the opposite direction, fighting but giving ground as the garrison chased after her like a pack of mastiffs.
Qisami herded the neophytes toward the gates. “Keep going, you dumb kittens.”
“But Salminde—”
“She’s buying you time,” Qisami snapped, shoving the two viperstrikes. “Get going before they catch her.”
“They aren’t going to catch her,” Wani shot back. “Are they?”
“Did anyone tell you that you’re awful at following orders?” said Qisami.
The checkpoint had emptied. A few of the Sunjawa warriors stayed at their post. The two viperstrikes crashed into them. Marhi’s batons blurred as she fought two at a time, striking her opponents multiple times in quick succession.
Qisami checked on the other viperstrike and had to do a double take. Was that silly girl fighting with a rake?
A few more grasshoppers rushed from the gatehouse. The first charged them at spearpoint. Wani stepped in front and flicked her rake, trapping the shaft as the man closed in. The young viperstrike flicked her rake again and sent the wooden warrior tumbling forward and skidding on the ground to Qisami’s feet. She looked down and kicked the man’s consciousness out of him, then stepped over his head. Wani had just finished off a warrior and knocked him over the railing when she noticed Qisami staring.
Wani stopped. “What?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. Your double whip chain is stupid, but you’re good at it. It suits you.”
“Why does that compliment sound like an insult?”
“I had a terrible upbringing, so I can’t say anything unconditionally nice.”
They broke through the outer gates a moment later and managed to make their way on board Not Loud Not Fat. All three were gassed, barely able to breathe as they stumbled onto the deck.
Daewon appeared. “What happened? Where’s Sali?”
“You have to power up the warpod and go, master tinker,” said Marhi.
Daewon’s face turned thunderous. “We’re not going anywhere without Salminde.”
“It’s Sali’s orders. This was a trap,” said Wani.
“The yazgurs were stalling.” Marhi spoke at the same time.
Qisami reached over and yanked at the tinker’s collar. “One of your Katuia cities with a bunch of pods is closing in on you right now. They’re going to flatten you the moment they get here, and then probably run you over again for fun.”
Daewon’s face paled. “Which clan?”
“Liqusa, master tinker,” said Marhi. “Coming from all sides. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Daewon had already turned away, barking orders. “Fight stations! Flame the furnaces. Prep Kahun to run!”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Reality
The getaway from the Barberry Cave back to friendly territory was tense, hectic, and slow. That’s what you get when you’re relying on a pair of stubby-legged miniature horses. Camp ponies, with their short, stubby legs, never worry about going anywhere in a hurry, even in a war zone. It made the slow escape from the chaotic moments when the Thorned Garden fell all the more comical as the last semblance of order vanished. Bhasani had remarked that they could probably leave the ward quicker if they continued on foot. The thought of walking never crossed any of their minds.
Pitched battles erupted as waves of Caobiu candles flooded into the ward’s main square just outside the Barberry. They were met by an equal and opposing wave of residents, underground corps, and army in an assorted mishmash of bright colors. No one wore any red or yellow, however. The two sides collided with a thunderous clap, and the square became a boiling soup of violence and death, threatening to bubble over and spill into the neighboring streets.
Even then, the two beasts took their time, whining, snorting, and farting the entire way as they carefully stepped over bodies and debris alike. If there was a pitched battle, the two fearless ponies nuzzled their way through. If the area was getting bombarded with artillery, they just put one foot in front of the other.
Most combatants ignored them, two mangy ponies carrying four wrinkled seniors who already looked like they had one foot in the grave…. They had better-armed combatants to bash their brains in. A few hassled them, however, probably seeking easy prey. That was a mistake, which no one lived to repeat. Fausan made short work of any who came close, his fingers flaring dramatically as if he were conducting a symphony.
The side wall of a row of buildings at the end of a block exploded from a ballista’s hail of buckshot and collapsed, causing a cascade of attached homes to fall over one by one. A moment later, another barrage—burning oil this time—slammed into the buildings across the street, erupting in a ball of flame that shot toward the heavens. The fire jumped the alley and was soon racing down adjacent blocks in every direction.
Taishi’s heart ached as she navigated past the destruction along the narrow streets of the Thorned Garden. She’d spent many a sordid and debaucherous night during her misspent youth down in the dregs of the Barberry back when it was more an industrial rather than residential neighborhood. The massive cave carried a seedy reputation back then and was popular with the denizens of the lunar court. Then people with families began moving in and cleaned everything up, dispersing the seedy vibe.
Her gaze was drawn to the flames running alongside them as they fled. The fire had reached the end of the block but soon found a clothesline to run across the street to continue feeding its hunger.
“Fausan,” she called, pointing at the burning rope overhead.
The whipfinger knew what she meant. He eyed the thin line three stories up and flicked both hands, launching a pair of bullets at his target. He must have missed because the fire was still crossing over. A snarl escaped his curled lips. Taishi had rarely seen the whipfinger master miss twice, but the rope was a nearly impossible target so far away. Fausan was determined. He squinted and tried again, this time hitting his target on the third try.
“The smoke was making my eyes water,” he muttered. The old man always played it cool, but under that casual exterior was a perfectionist who worked hard to appear relaxed.
That small act might have delayed the spread of the fire, but the ward’s destruction was inevitable. There were no winners in a siege when the smoke cleared. At this rate, the two sides would soon be fighting over the corpse of this once great city. What was the point of this? Ducal patriotism? Pride? Maybe this was Oban’s vendetta against Sunri.
“I should have let Saan toss me in jail when he made me an emissary,” she grumbled.
They soon reached a tunnel entrance leading into a buried ward and passed through a Shulan checkpoint, a heavily armored and well-defended barricade manned by a garrison of underground corps. Only after they were trudging through the sewers did Taishi feel safe enough to let herself breathe. She hated having to depend on others.
Today was humbling. She thought of the Oracle of the Tiandi, little Pei and her fox, making sacrifices for the good of all Zhuun, and in a private manner refusing accolades or explanations. Taishi’s eyes became wet at the thought. Those thoughts had weighed her down the entire way home. She questioned her judgment. Should Taishi have refused the oracle’s demands?
No, she couldn’t.
Koranajah was right. If you were devout, you either believed in the oracle’s wisdom, or you didn’t. There was no gray area. The devout were not allowed to pick and choose which parts of the oracle’s wisdom to follow. Yet Taishi had let a little girl choose to walk to her death. What did allowing this atrocity say about Taishi? It was as much her choice as Pei’s. Taishi wept openly. Guilt struck old hearts differently than with the young.
Taishi was in a dark mood by the time they returned to the Vauzan Temple of the Tiandi. She was famished and exhausted. Her legs ached, as did her back, shoulders, and just about everything else. Her feet were swollen.
The day was a disaster. She had gotten one of her oldest friends killed and doomed her convent, the only one in all Zhuun that forged female war artists. And somehow, that wasn’t the worst news. Taishi had lost the Oracle of the Tiandi. No, Taishi had given her to the enemy. All in an afternoon. She bowed her head. At least they were home now and the day was near its end.
Night had settled in by the time they passed through the front gates. The courtyard was lively for this hour: monks, soldiers, a triage, and many sprawled on the ground where once they waited in line to offer Tenth Day Prayers. There was panic in the air.
Taishi turned to Bhasani. “Hey, do you feel—”
The drowned fist master waved her off. “Yes, I sense it too, and I don’t care. Whatever is causing this stir can wait. Defer it until morning. Don’t wake me unless breakfast is being served.”
Fausan raised his hand. “I will happily take breakfast, good or bad.”
“Come on, you dope.” Bhasani nudged her steed, and the two rode off. She gave one final order, as usual. “Send my daughter my way if you see her.”
Then they were gone. Taishi looked over at Sohn. “And you?”
The eternal bright light master carried the look of haunted bewilderment. He had worn this expression for most of the day. “Did we really send the entire orchid sect to their deaths?”
“Well, no,” said Taishi. “We did no such thing. The Black Orchids chose to honor their vow to the Tiandi and defend the oracle with their lives.”
“But,” said Sohn with a low drawl. “But if we had brought Pei with us, then all those nuns would be alive, right?”
Taishi shrugged. “Some might not have survived the journey here, but it’s safe to say they had a higher chance of survival here than remaining at the Thorned Garden.”
He stopped. “So, uh, why didn’t we bring her with us?”
“She didn’t want to come.”
Sohn exploded. “Who cares what that stupid little brat wants! She probably wants a nice doll and sequin dress. Just toss her into a bag and be done with it.” He pretended to throw something into an imaginary bag. “Bam, saved a bunch of nuns. We all get to go to heaven.”
Taishi eyed him. “I could have, but she’s the Oracle of the Tiandi. You either believe in the prophecy or you don’t.”
Sohn sucked in several deep, shaking breaths. “I’m sorry. It’s late. I’m tired and not thinking straight.” He rubbed his eyes. “I have two nieces and some distant relatives who are Black Orchids. It’s a tradition among my family to send one woman every generation to the Black Orchid sect. I could have just led a fifth of my lineage to slaughter. That little girl is not human. She’s a monster.”
“She certainly isn’t human,” Taishi said, although not with the same meaning as Sohn. She stood before her old friend and met his eyes. “I’m sorry about your family. I hope they find a way to survive.”
Sohn pulled out a stoppered gourd and headed down the path leading toward the meditation hill near the back. They were on temple grounds, but he didn’t care. No one else appeared to either. Everyone had bigger problems to worry about than fundamentalist Tiandi laws. “The night is young. I cannot pray unless I’m drunk, and I have many ancestors I need to apologize to tonight.”
She watched her old friend disappear behind the main temple. That man was not going to meet a peaceful end. He would die either by war or by wine. She hoped for the former; for all his faults, Soa Sohn deserved an honorable and noble end to this mortal realm. She turned away, saddened by that thought.
