Clockwork Samurai by Jeannie Lin

looking for?” Makoto asked. The light disappeared momentarily around a corner as Makoto moved out of sight. We scrambled to follow after it.
    â€œA man by the name of Sagara Shintarō,” Chang-wei replied. “Do you know of him?”
    He didn’t. “Do you know how to find this man?”
    â€œOnce we’re aboveground, I’ll know how to find him.”
    Chang-wei seemed confident despite this being his first time in Nagasaki.
    The tunnel turned once and then again. Makoto stopped us, motioning for us to remain quiet. “Keep moving straight ahead. Feel your way along the wall and follow my footsteps.”
    Without further warning, he extinguished the lantern. I bit back a gasp as blackness surrounded us. Desperately, I reached out to Chang-wei, grasping at his arm. He closed his hand around mine and squeezed.
    My pulse raced as I waved a hand blindly in front of my face. I could hear Makoto’s footsteps retreating, leaving us.
    â€œKeep going forward.” Chang-wei’s voice came to me in the darkness. I wanted to say I felt safe as long as I was with Chang-wei, but it wasn’t true. We had survived many such adventures together in the past, but the Chang-wei beside me was more stubborn and more reckless than before.
    And he was keeping even more secrets from me than before.
    I stumbled forward as instructed, praying we’d find our way out soon.
    * * *
    I lost all sense of direction in the darkness. If Makoto were to leave us here, we’d be lost and stranded. I forced myself to take a breath, pushing back the rising panic.
    â€œEverything will be fine,” Chang-wei assured.
    â€œI’m all right,” I said, unable to keep my voice from shaking.
    I didn’t want Chang-wei to think he had to worry about me.
    Makoto was once again before us. I heard the sound of something heavy being dragged over the dirt floor. A sliver of light filtered into the tunnel, but it was enough to guide us to a small passage. Chang-wei crawled through first, and I followed on my hands and knees.
    As we straightened, Makoto reignited his lantern. We were in a cellar filled with large barrels and earthenware jars.
    â€œThere are clothes in the chest in the corner,” Makoto instructed as he shoved a wooden cask over the opening.
    Chang-wei and I picked through the pile of clothing. I selected a dark-colored cotton robe and turned away to dress. Though I’d chosen the smallest garment there, it still hung loosely around me as I tied the belt around my waist.
    â€œI don’t smuggle many women through this tunnel,” Makoto remarked as he looked over the men’s clothing on me.
    A boy would attract less notice anyway, but hopefully we wouldn’t be seen at all.
    â€œWill the streets be empty?” Chang-wei asked. His gray kimono fit better than mine.
    Makoto went to peer out the window. “Nagasaki is a night city. Teahouses, theater, brothels. This distillery lies on the edge of it. Once we’re outside the city borders, there are open fields.”
    â€œThere’s a peak overlooking the harbor in the surrounding hills. The one with a tower,” Chang-wei said.
    â€œGhost Hill.” Makoto’s frown deepened. “They say birds won’t fly there. Strange lights can sometimes be seen over it at night.”
    Chang-wei’s expression remained unreadable. “That’s the place.”
    â€œHow do you know of it?” I asked. He’d only been in the city as long as I had.
    â€œRemember the signal tower in Peking?”
    The one that had received the coded signals. “You were searching for a tower from the airship,” I said.
    â€œIt stood to reason its counterpart would be built upon a high point around Nagasaki Bay.”
    Makoto frowned. “What is this talk of signals? Communication with foreigners is strictly forbidden by the shogunate.”
    â€œSo where does your loyalty to the shogunate