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  Behind her, Sparrow and Drosa wailed involuntarily at the motion, while Ishe kept her eyes on the horizon. Near the cloud ceiling, the thermal petered out, giving Ishe the lay of land. She saw Hammer struggling to remain airborne, the injured wing flapping madly as he chased after the floating power crystal even as he lost altitude. She considered racing him for it.

  A cough behind her. The light from a glowstone illuminated her back.

  “How bad is she, Sparrow?” Ishe asked, not taking her eye off Hammer. What would it take for Miss Cog to give up?

  “We’re going to need a med crystal. Bolt’s deep in her arm. Blinky’s weaving up some bandages, but she’s bleeding.”

  “Had worse,” Drosa grunted. “Get power crystal back.”

  “If you’d had worse, you’d be dead,” Sparrow scolded. “Not going to help much unless you can turn it into a medical crystal.”

  “Pack that wound.” Ishe took a deep breath, tasting the wind. The original plan was to retrieve the crystal, but by taking Coyote’s name, she didn’t need it.

  Ishe steered toward the city as the first spatters of rain smacked against her cheek. A light glowed through the murk, marking the city on the horizon. Before it lay a constellation of flickering lights in the various towns and farm communities that lay inside the borders.

  “We’re almost there, Yaki,” Ishe said, and threw Dancing Fly into the storm.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A torchship is what you get when you stick a big cannon on the back of an airship and detonate fire crystals inside the barrel.

  Private letters of Tabi Arai

  In the end, it turned out that Mitsuo had been quite eager for distraction and rather willing to ignore the fact that her dress had mysteriously turned white. He made love to the Lady Cat with all the passion he could muster, clinging to her body desperately as if trying to prove to himself the love he professed was real. At times, Yaki lost herself to him, channeling her hunger. Trying to wash away the bloody faces that kept intruding into her mind with the bliss of physical pleasure.

  In the quiet spaces between rounds, she consumed the last of her little gold hoard. By evening, she would have more than enough to sustain her. Once she had Ishe back, she’d stop feeding it, keep it from growing any further, but for now, they needed to work together. Yaki couldn’t afford the distractions of physical pain.

  Mitsuo also hadn’t been in the mood to closely examine his decisions. He had said nothing of the swelling of her right eye.. On this eve of betrayal, he looked at her and saw someone else, certainly not the monster the Yaki had seen in the mirror.

  Now they lay still. One of his arms draped loosely over her belly, he snored lightly into the Death Panther’s mark. Yaki watched the paper shade begin to glow with the sun. A knock came on the door.

  “Yes?” she called out.

  “Everything is ready,” Guro answered through the door.

  “Finally,” Yaki said, and pushed herself from the bed.

  Mitsuo’s eyes cracked open in the fading light. Their icy blue seemed to shine within the fading murk. “After today, no one will call me a Bottom ever again.”

  “No, they’ll have much more colorful names, no matter how this goes down tonight.”

  He smirked.

  In the crisp new white dress she had bought for the occasion, Yaki almost felt like the innocent flower again. She had spent the entirety of the afternoon meditatively primping as if she were going to a ball. Her appearance had momentarily reduced Mitsuo to slack-jawed wonderment when she got tired of tweaking the look. They waited until the sun kissed the mountains and then started moving toward their target, reaching a particular door to the Foundry in the last gasp of daylight. Yaki beamed a radiant smile reminiscent of the Flower at the two guards instead of the poisoned rose she felt her soul warping into. Mitsuo led as he pulled Yaki along.

  One of the guard’s eyebrows went up quizzically as he saw them.

  “Ah, hello, Mr. Gee!” Mitsuo opened with a sunny voice. “I’d like you to meet Miss Badger.”

  Yaki gave the man a finger wave and focused her smile on him.

  The guard frowned.

  Mitsuo’s voice tightened. “Is something the matter? Is the observatory in use?”

  The guard shook himself. “No! Sorry. sir, just surprised you see you smiling today.”

  A certainty hit Yaki like Ryouta’s fist. This man knew; they had found the bodies. There was no way the family would have announced the deaths yet, but whispers must have traveled through the entire house and the Foundry. Swallowing, Yaki reinforced her mask and stepped forward. “He is with me and that is enough to make us happy in any times.”

  “Yes, miss. You are right.” He opened the door, and now Yaki pulled Mitsuo through. “Just don’t touch anything.”

  “Wonder what that was about,” Mitsuo muttered, but it didn’t seem to be a question that needed an answer.

  Instead, she took in the splendor of the small room they found themselves in. No paper there; rather, they found themselves in the middle of a wooden mosaic depicting the empty throne of the Emperor, encrusted with fire and lightning. On the opposite was the simple throne of the Steward, folded paper animals gathered around its base as if waiting for a story. Across from them were two crystals protruding from a curved wall that had been painted a royal red. Mitsuo reached out and touched one.

  The clear blue light of a power crystal filled the room, and the floor pushed up into their legs. The familiar vibration of powered liftwood reminded Yaki of Fox Fire. They rose in a brief silence, which Yaki broke. “There are parts of this I really don’t understand.”

  “It will become clear,” Mitsuo said as he pulled a stout knife from his sleeve and began to pry off the panel that held the crystals. The lift stopped moving and rumbled briefly as something locked onto it. The wall in front of them lifted like a shutter as he deposited the two crystals in his pouch.

  Beyond them stretched a lushly decorated room. A huge wooden throne stood in the middle, its un-cushioned lacquer unscratched and untouched, a seat for the absent God-Emperor. Yet the view beyond pulled Yaki forward to the huge window that consumed the longest wall of the room. Stepping up to it, precisely where the Steward’s smaller chair was perched, she looked down over the entire Foundry. The huge dome structure was half metalworks, half shipyard. Vats of molten metal lined a causeway where workers streamed like ants as they poured steel into molds for armor plating. Beyond the factory lay the dry dock. All three of its massive bays were occupied. Two ironside behemoths were undergoing maintenance, their thick-plated armor parted in order to repair the heavy stress on their internal wooden structures. It was the ship in the middle that made her heart ramp back into audible range: thrum-thrum.

  The ship was of a nearly alien design. No exposed deck; instead, it was a teardrop. Red timbers wrapped around its hull as if holding the ship together. Two short wooden wings stretched out on either side, each bearing twin propellers. Yet each wing had been mounted on a pivot, made to fold away. For in the rear of the ship was a ring of blackened metal, an exhaust port, marking it a torch ship. She had heard of Lyndon’s torchships, tiny ships propelled by massive amounts of ammunition grade fire crystals. They tended to explode. Yet this, this ship... Yaki did a few mental calculations comparing it to the behemoth on either side of it. This ship was the size of Fox Fire.

  Mitsuo stepped next to her with a grin. “If I had any doubt you were Madria’s daughter, the look on your face right now dispelled it.” He laughed freely. “Five power crystals, two to power the twin elemental lances, one to power a shield crystal should one be acquired, one to assist the massive fire crystal that propels it, and the last to keep it aloft. It cost nearly as much to build as the two ships on either side of it combined. It will hunt the Lyndon privateers like the dogs they are and bite them in half. It’s called Emperor’s Sword.”

  “Wow.” Yaki gazed at the ship. “Can we just steal that?” Yaki flashed him a grin.r />
  “That would be pretty difficult. The power crystals are way overdue. House Yokoyama has been promising them for months now. Look, see that hole in the hull?” He pointed where men were scurrying in and out of a hole in the center of the hull. “They’ve had to leave that open so they can install them.”

  Yaki sighed; without the power crystals, the ship wouldn’t be much more than a pretty piece of wood. With effort, she shifted her thoughts from imagining the sensation of five ship-quality power crystals thrumming around her to the task at hand. While the center of the dome teemed with laborers and light, the edges remained shrouded in darkness. Remembering the maps that Mitsuo had drawn up, she spotted the glowing eyes in the shadows that marked the vault. It was all the way across the dome. They’d have to cross through a sea of people to reach it.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Mitsuo urged, and moved to one side of the room. There, concealed under a fine tapestry, they found what he’d been looking for: a dumbwaiter.

  Yaki examined the two-by-two-foot box of liftwood. “I dislike this part of the plan,” she whispered as Mitsuo handed her the smaller of the two power crystals from the elevator.

  “At least you can talk to them,” Mitsuo said. “It will be fine.” He squeezed her shoulder in a manner meant to be reassuring. This was the part of the plan that Yaki had the most doubts about. Instead of using pulleys, the dumbwaiter had been constructed with liftwood, more than enough to float a metal tray loaded with food, but to support a person might require so much power that the wood could combust. Grimly, Yaki rewired the box to the lift’s crystal, ten times the size of the lift’s own. Once done, she crawled into it, curling her body in a tight ball to fit. Cradling the fist-sized power crystal to her chest, she nodded at Mitsuo. He closed the door, and the pale blue crystal became the only light source. She extended her thoughts to the crystal and coaxed it to life.

  The dumbwaiter lurched upward into the top of the cabinet; her head followed with a hollow thump.

  “Yaki?” came Mitsuo’s muffled voice.

  “Fine! Crystal’s just a little overexcited,” Yaki called before turning her attention back to the crystal. “Easy now, little less, please,” she whispered to it. The glow dimmed and Yaki felt herself begin to descend. The scent of smoke reached her nostrils moments before she reached the bottom as veins in the liftwood began to add their own light to the crystal’s. A yawning maw of darkness replaced the smooth brick wall of the shaft. Yaki rolled into it just as the wood began to crackle and spark.

  The dumbwaiter burst into flames behind her, despite Yaki carrying the power crystal with her. With a disgruntled snort, Yaki searched the room. As expected, she found herself in a disused but well-organized kitchen. A battalion of woks hung from rails above fire-crystal burners. Yaki ran over to the sink and turned the knob on the faucet. Water burst out in an uneven spatter as the air cleared from the pipes. She filled a bucket and hurled the water at the burning dumbwaiter. The flames disappeared with a hiss.

  “Yaki?” came a tentative call from the dumbwaiter shaft.

  Yaki stuck her head in the mouth to the shaft., “Dumbwaiter’s done. You’ll have to climb down.”

  “Nine hells. Okay, try to get a cart set up in the meantime,” Mitsuo yelled down.

  “Aye,” Yaki said, and looked around the room. There were no carts and the kitchen had been relieved of all its perishable goods. According to Mitsuo, the Steward hadn’t used this balcony since her mother had left, and it appeared that everyone assumed he never would again. It had been built to be entirely self-sufficient from the main kitchen used to feed the massive work force of the Foundry. The door, the only entrance into and out of the room, looked to be a cousin to a vault door, made of solid iron. The latch squealed loudly, and it took a grunt of effort push the door open a crack. Instantly, the silence of the abandoned kitchen came under assault by the raucous sounds of laughter and the sizzling of food. Cautiously, Yaki pushed the door farther so she could extend her head past it. Beyond stretched a kitchen of truly industrial proportions. Teams of men and women were manning an entire row of pots that each group of cooks could have easily swum in that were suspended by metal chains from what appeared to be an iron beam. They looked similar to the crucibles that poured molten metal in the other parts of the Foundry. All the cooks wore a variation of Nishamura and Hana livery, pale red and a dark blue. Yaki ground her teeth as she observed that all those in dark blue sported a black armband of mourning around their left biceps.

  Cursing under her breath, she pulled her eyes off the cooks stirring the vats of soup and noodles. It took a few more moments to find the carts she was looking for. The kitchen was only a third staffed, and despite the din, much of the kitchen lay empty and dark. There were two more rows of pots and then two rows of counters and sinks for food preparation. Then, beyond that were a variety of carts, neatly parked three deep against the wall.

  Yaki pulled back from the door. Mitsuo still hadn’t emerged from the dumbwaiter shaft, but she could hear him huffing within it. Shedding her dress, Yaki changed into the Nishamura laborer’s livery they had smuggled in via the dress’s small bustle. On her it was a bit too big, rumpling in the sleeves. She paused at the door to the outside. I belong here, she told herself. This is the mask of the unhurried servant. She schooled her features into a relaxed state, pulling the eagerness and tension away from her face and holding them in her heart.

  Exiting the Steward’s kitchen with a steady gait, Yaki walked to the row of carts and grabbed the first one that already had been draped with a black linen. She caught a few glances in her direction, but when she didn’t return their curiosity, they went back to their own tasks as she wheeled the cart to the Steward’s kitchen. Then she made a show of unlocking the door before pushing the cart inside.

  As she pulled the door shut behind her, Mitsuo emerged from the shaft. He had stripped off his clothing except his undershorts, and his copper skin shone by the light of the kitchen’s glow crystals, displaying his lean muscles. He gasped for breath like an exhausted donkey. The sight made her heart flutter a little; she desperately hoped she wouldn’t have to kill him.

  His eyes traveled up and down Yaki in the disguise that had been intended for him. “Get in the cart,” Yaki said, flashing him a smile as she went to the kitchen cupboards and retrieved several serving platters.

  “But”—his chest heaved—“the plan?”

  “Change of plan. You’re a sweaty mess and they already saw me grabbing the cart. The workers are already curious, but their supervisors haven’t noticed me yet. Get in.” Where you can’t see the iron-tithing armbands, she added in her head as she lifted the cart’s linen for him.

  Mitsuo nodded and grabbed a bundle from the dumbwaiter that included his sword. “Just remember the route we discussed,” he said before clambering onto the cart’s lower level.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  If you are mourning, remember it’s another show. Cry your tears, but pay close attention to the movement nearby.

  Madam Mana, Headmistress of the School of the Cultured Lady

  A supervisor had glanced her way as Yaki pushed the cart out of the great swinging doors, but all Yaki got in terms of suspicion from him was a curt nod. The cart had a bad wheel, which made Yaki have to strain a little to push it. The fine silver domes, adorned with dragons and the Emperor’s lion, rattled so much that Yaki made a din. Yaki kept her eyes on the dragon motifs, although more out the horrid realization that the style indicated Yaz’noth had made them. Nobody stopped her as she steered the cart around the mass of workers crawling over the ships. The casting bays, where they poured the armor plating, stood nearly silent, with a skeleton crew maintaining the crucibles.

  Perhaps because they didn’t have much to do this shift, it was their foreman who called to her. “Hoy! Girl! Ya got enough for my crew on there?”

  “Nope!” Yaki called back, shifting the cart to angle around him, but he strode toward her on an intercept course. Yaki d
idn’t have to fake her annoyance and let it shine through the demure tilt of her head as she cut him off. “Sorry, sir, but this is a meal for a smith working in the vault,” she told him.

  He peered over her head at the cart, and his stomach gave a gurgle so loud that Yaki heard it through the man’s heavy leather apron. “Looks like quite a meal there. Surely, they won’t miss a nibble.” With a kindly smile, he made to sweep her out of his way with a firm arm. Yaki spun around the arm and only gave inches, but he pushed forward until they stood toe to toe. Yaki glared up at him. “Sir, the kitchens are almost done with your meal. Are you so hungry that you’ll trade a finger for a bit of quail egg?”

  “Quail? Is that what they’re feeding the goldsmiths now?” He stepped back, eyes searching Yaki.

  “It’s not a normal occasion.” Yaki stepped forward, regaining her ground before again assuming a demure pose.

  That drew a low chuckle from him. “Aren’t you a funny one? Painted up like a lady but ready to slice off fingers to protect your duty. What’s your name?”

  “Dancing Badger.” Yaki watched the interest in his eyes flicker out.

  “A bit on the nose,” he grumbled, then cocked his head. “Where’s your black band?”

  Yaki winced and looked down in feigned embarrassment.

  The foreman pulled a scrap of fabric from a pocket with a sigh. “Here.” He offered it to her. “You know, if you change your name, your supervisor would be less likely to forget things like this. Don’t let Lady Jingu see you without one.”

  A false smile rose to Yaki’s face as she took the band. “Thank you for the advice. I will stop on my return if I have leftovers.”

  “Just saying you won’t need to try so hard.”

  Yaki said nothing as she put her weight into the cart and smiled prettily at him as she passed, trying to ignore the angry buzz in her head.