The Shattering Waves (The Year of the Dragon, Book 7) (20 page)

Azumi’s eyes were closed. She lay still.

She was on a ship, that much was obvious. She was lying on the side on the floorboards of what smelled like a tar and pitch storeroom. But it wasn’t one of the small merchant boats from Sakai. She was deep below the deck and heard men walking and talking on the level above her. The deck was at a slight incline — it was sailing fast, under full sail, but she couldn’t tell the direction yet.

Her hands and legs were bound with metal chains behind her back. There were two men with her, one of whom she recognized instantly. The other one was lighter in step. He smelled of weariness and pain. His clothes were dyed black — this, too, she could tell by scent.

“She’s awake now,” said the first voice, the unmistakable cold rasp of the Renegade. “She can hear us.”

“Good,” said the other. “The sooner you deal with her, the sooner the Spirits of the fallen can be laid to rest. I’ll leave you to it — I have to check on Tokojiro.”

The second man left the room. She tested the chains on her hands. The cold, slightly vibrating metal, burned her wrists, and she struggled not to gasp with pain.

“I wouldn’t try that again,” said the Renegade. “These chains are made from the Bataavian Living Iron — the same as the dagger that wounded your mistress in Satsuma.”

She sensed a waft of cold wind. She opened her eyes to see his whiskered face above her, the point of his sword hovering over her eyes.

“I was hoping to use it against Chiyo,” he said, seething, “but you’ll have to do.”

Chiyo-dono got away!

“Yes, your mistress abandoned you,” the Renegade said, reading her thoughts in her eyes. “How does that make you feel?”

She tried to shrug, but the chains bit into her flesh again. She bit her lip.

“What do you want from me?” she asked. “Why didn’t you just kill me?”

“You have many uses,” he replied and sheathed his sword. “I can plunder your brain for information … I can exchange you for another hostage ...”

“I know nothing. Chiyo-
dono
only ever told me what was needed for the immediate mission. And I’m worth even less.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Azumi.” The Renegade sat on a barrel of tar. “She’s granted you a lot of her own power, more than you needed to accomplish what you’ve set out to do. That means she treated you as her Initiate. What they call a Serpent’s Egg.”

“A … Serpent’s Egg?”

“The Serpent needs all eight Heads. As unlikely as their demise is, each should have a replacement ready in case the unthinkable happens: for Ganryū it was that upstart Councillor, Hotta. I’m surprised Chiyo chose you. You’re from Koga, aren’t you?”

“You know I am.”

“So is she. Was. All those generations ago. I didn’t suspect her of being capable of such nostalgic whims.”

She found no reply to this. Dōraku reached for something behind the barrel he was sitting on. A round, straw-coloured object rolled across the floor.

“We found this on the other ship,” he said. “It smells rank. What did you keep in it?”

Ozun!

She wriggled and struggled with the chains, ignoring the searing pain. “What have you done with him?” she cried.

“
Him?
It was empty, abandoned by your mistress as she fled.”

“Liar! She promised she would keep him safe!”

“Haven’t you learned anything from your service with Ganryū?” Dōraku seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m sorry,” he added. “Whatever was in that basket is now gone.”

“Then Chiyo-
dono
must have taken it with her.”

He pulled up her chin and looked her deep in the eyes. “I see. She hasn’t broken you yet.”

“Let go of me.” She wriggled out of his grip and turned her face away.

“Won’t you tell me what it was?” he asked. “I’ll ask the survivors, maybe they saw something.”

She stared at the wall in defiant silence.

“I’ll ask anyway.”

He picked up the lantern and left the hold, leaving her in the tar-infused darkness.

A typhoon in Suruga Bay …

Princess Atsuko stared at the crumpled piece of paper. It was her only clue to what her husband and Councillor Hotta had been doing with the glass orb.

Ever since he realized he’d lost the Councillor’s note, Iesada had become more careful and suspicious of spies and eavesdroppers. He did not suspect Atsuko yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. His growing paranoia, fuelled by Hotta’s whispers, was turning him day by day against his loved ones.

She didn’t get another chance at visiting the eight-sided room. The strain of using the orb had at last taken its toll on the
Taikun
and he had become bedridden. It was up to Atsuko to nurse him to health — he refused the company of other concubines and courtesans. The court ladies hated her even more for it. The only other person who entered his chambers was Itō Keisuke, the famous physician from Nagoya. Atsuko did not trust anyone whom Hotta had introduced into the Inner Palace staff, but the old doctor appeared honest and dedicated to his profession over any political allegiance.

After eight long days, Itō’s treatment returned colour to Iesada’s cheeks, and a spring to his step. He appeared even healthier than before his sickness had started.

“I think I will hold a Council today, dear,” he told her. “The country needs me.”

“The country needs you in full health,” she said, stroking his cheek. “It won’t do anybody any good if you overexert yourself.”

“No, I’m fine.” He rose from the bed. “I can’t leave all governing of Yamato to Hotta and his ministers.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I might be a while. A lot must have happened during my indisposition.”

“I may be able to finish that painting, then,” she said and smiled. “If the weather is good.”

She waited until he was safely away, then called for Mineko.

There were fresh wax drippings on the floor around the golden stand. The candlesticks had left traces in the dust. Was someone else using the orb when the
Taikun
was ill? No, if this was possible, Hotta wouldn’t need her husband’s services. Which posed another question — why was Atsuko able to influence the currents of the wind inside the orb? Did its magic somehow recognize her as part of the
Taikun’s
family?

For now, it didn’t matter. She took a deep breath and pressed her hands against the glass. The warm storm rose around her once more, and once more she travelled into the skies above Yamato.

The black ribbon seemed closer to the shores this time. She pressed against it with her mind. The ribbon rippled, but soon returned to the equilibrium. She tried again, evoking more willpower. A gust of wind tore away and sped towards the land. Frightened, she ordered it to stop, but that only made things worse. The storm picked up, rising a tall, frothy wave. She had to think fast.

She pulled another gust from the Divine Winds, and bade it blow against the first one at an angle. The air currents burst against each other, forming a fierce whirlwind for a brief moment. The swirl dispersed, distributing squalls and swells in all directions. She watched with terror as the great waves struck against the shores of central Yamato, from Todo clan’s lands, through Nagoya harbour all the way to Suruga Bay. They weren’t exactly tsunami or typhoon scale, but still she imagined they would cause suffering and destruction wherever they hit.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

She stepped away from the orb. Her entire body was shaking.

What power! Who made this thing? This orb makes the wielder akin to Gods. I could destroy entire fleets with it. Who needs an army if you can control the weather?

The only thing stopping her seemed to be how much energy the orb drained from the user. She understood now that Iesada was a man far stronger than anyone had been taking him for. Someone of lesser stature would, in a short time, have yielded to the burden of the magic.

Leaning against the walls, she returned to Mineko, waiting at the entrance to the warehouse. As last time, several hours had passed while she toyed with the Divine Winds. She wondered if what she’d seen in the orb was happening in real time, or would happen in the future.

I guess I will soon find out. I just have to pay attention to the rumours from the coast.

Then another thought struck her:
they
will know
.
As soon as news of a series of freak storms reached the castle, Hotta and Iesada would figure out somebody had used the orb without their permission.

This was too much to handle on her own. She needed to consult someone with more knowledge and experience.

And she knew just the right person for the job.

CHAPTER XIII

A lone hill sprouted sideways from a mountain range and loomed over a flat plain of small villages and rice paddies. A large lake glittered blue on the western horizon. Somewhere beyond it lay Heian and, further still, Naniwa.

A dark dense forest covered the entire hill, except its summit. Here, the mass of trees parted to reveal first a gargantuan stone staircase, and then, at the very top, a massive granite platform, surrounded by a low rampart. A hundred feet across, and rising several feet over the foliage, it was flat and featureless, except for a few cracks in the stone pavement, and several eroded boulders scattered at random throughout.

The stone, exposed to the summer sun all day, burned Bran’s feet. Nagomi slid down the dragon’s neck and gingerly touched the pavement with her sandals. She hissed.

“What is this place?” she asked, looking around.

“I don’t know.” Bran knelt down and touched the floor. It radiated heat like the inside of the furnace. He closed his eyes. “But she was here. I can feel it.”

The tattooed runes on his leg lit up. The purple jagged line appeared faintly in his mind, tracing another hex disappearing to the east. He had grown skilled in detecting its magic in the past few days. This was more than just True Sight — in fact, he was barely using the spell at all. Somehow, through the runes running around his thigh, he had gained a new connection with Satō and the blood magic used to transport her from place to place.

“There’s something else,” said Nagomi. She too leaned down to touch the smooth boulders. She was pale and her hands trembled. “A presence, hiding underneath this hill.” Her eyes widened, and her pupils danced. She was having a vision.

Bran caught her arms to stop her from falling.

“There was a castle here …” she said, her lips shaking. “But now it’s prison.”

“A prison?” He looked to his feet. What monster needed to be sealed underneath this mass of granite? “For whom?”

“I … don’t know. It’s dark. I don’t want to pry.” She grasped his hand. “Are you done here?”

“Yes, I found what I wanted.” He looked to the sky. “We need to find shelter, it’s almost dusk. We’ve been flying all day. Emrys has grown tired and hungry.”

“We can’t stay here ..
.
”

“No, I suppose not.” Bran agreed reluctantly. He had planned to spend the night on the stone platform. Walled and secluded, it looked safe enough compared to the wide open fields stretching in all directions. The forest would have provided Emrys with game. He sensed the dragon’s stomach rumbling. But he could not ignore the fear in Nagomi’s eyes.

“We’ll have to try to reach those peaks, then,” he said, pointing to a ridge looming blue and faint to the east. “That’s an hour’s flight, at least.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right. If the Fanged deemed this place safe to use, it can’t be any good to us.”

He helped her climb back on Emrys and took one last look at the platform with True Sight. He saw nothing but faint traces of the Fanged’s blood spells, a lattice of dark blue and purple vanishing into the ground. If there was another power here, it was ancient, native Yamato magic that only Nagomi could sense.

He picked up a small pebble from the pavement and leapt on the dragon’s back.

With the power of blood magic still buzzing in her veins, Azumi had no need for sleep. Right now, this was a curse rather than a blessing. For the first hour, she tried to fight her way out of the iron binds. Finally, she stood on shaky legs only to drop back to the floor in piercing agony, cursing the Renegade’s name.

She crawled up to the basket. She peered inside and pulled away. Bile rose in her throat. Dōraku was right. The stench was unbearable. How had she not noticed it before?

Maybe it’s a different basket,
she thought.
Maybe it’s some kind of a trick to break me.

But the hope was brief. She had recognized the container with certainty the moment the Renegade rolled it along the floor.

The night passed slowly, punctuated only by the muffled, hourly cries of the watchmen coming from the deck and the gentle lapping of water. She didn’t mind the darkness, but the loneliness was beginning to gnaw at her. She wanted to hear Ozun’s voice, telling her everything would be all right … She clung to the sliver of hope that Chiyo-
dono
fled with the head. Would she agree to exchange her for another hostage?