as fighting a tsunami.
Binding glyphs exist, too, Grandmother Naoko said. I wonder why the Great Temples don’t use these anymore. They’re so useful.
Mamoru was swept into the vase. They put something in the opening, and all was dark.
Time passed, enough of it for fear to dull and, eventually, turn to boredom.
They didn’t hurt him. Maybe they couldn’t figure out how to torture a spirit. They locked him up in the dark instead, promising to let him out if he told them who had sent him. They might already know, might be after proof; that would explain why they weren’t in a hurry.
Would they really let him out if he told them? Unlikely. Besides, Advisor Yoshida wouldn’t take treason well. Usagi either. He couldn’t afford to drop further in her esteem; she’d barely spoken to him since the disastrous reveal, watching him with wary eyes.
Would Usagi notice he’d been unconscious for far too long? Would she care to feed his body or would she allow it to waste away? How long could a human body last under these conditions? Would he even feel it if his body died? He wished he knew.
But knowing these things wouldn’t get him out of here. He poked and prodded the vase from inside, finding no crack to squeeze through. He couldn’t shift to the spirit realm either. Hmm, could he do the opposite?
He rarely did this, but he could fold himself down like a piece of scroll, fold and fold until he was so dense it made him solid, real. He hit one side of the vase, then the other. The vase shook, a little. Again, and again, and again—yes, it was rocking! Harder, harder! If the vase fell and shattered, he would be free.
You’re excited, Grandmother Naoko said. Best we put you somewhere safer.
He could hear her, but not see or sense her. He was only vaguely aware of motion, but someone seemed to have picked up the vase, presumably to put in on the floor or elsewhere he couldn’t hope to shatter it by rocking. He screamed in frustration, wordlessly and noiselessly. If that annoying fox hadn’t been watching! But maybe she always watched. She didn’t require sleep anymore, did she?
Well, he didn’t require sleep either. He’d think of something.
Without such things as hunger or the sight of the sun to judge time, he could only guess he’d been in here for several hours. Usagi could be, right at this moment, worrying over why he hadn’t risen yet. He wouldn’t find out unless he went back to her, so he’d better find a way.
He settled down in a puddle at the bottom of the vase, and thought furiously.
Chapter Nine
Sanae
T ravelling speedily was easier when they didn’t have supply carts to drag along. Everything unnecessary for battle had been left in the village, unguarded. There was nobody to steal from them.
A halt was called; they gathered, looking to their guide as he said, “This is as far as we can go unseen. As soon as we cross the ridge, we’ll be in plain view. Dead trees provide no cover.”
Their guide had scouted ahead the entire time, occasionally falling back to indicate the way was clear. He looked less tired, as if excitement was a temporary cure for flagging health.
The fighters had brought weapons, water, cold snacks, and supplies to tend wounds. The scribe had brought his writing table, several bottles of inks, and enough parchment to detail weeks of fighting. Sanae hadn’t brought anything other than a few nuts wrapped in a piece of fabric.
“We could use a close scout,” the scribe said politely, side-eying Akakiba. “They’ve already seen a fox in the area; perhaps you could attempt to contact the woman we have inside? She has three tiny beauty marks on her right cheek.”
Before Akakiba had to try to explain he couldn’t shift fox, Sanae tugged on his hair and launched into the air to glide to the ground.
“There’s our scout,” Jien said. “Give her a message to carry.”
The scribe looked skeptical, but nonetheless applied brush to scroll to produce a
Binding glyphs exist, too, Grandmother Naoko said. I wonder why the Great Temples don’t use these anymore. They’re so useful.
Mamoru was swept into the vase. They put something in the opening, and all was dark.
Time passed, enough of it for fear to dull and, eventually, turn to boredom.
They didn’t hurt him. Maybe they couldn’t figure out how to torture a spirit. They locked him up in the dark instead, promising to let him out if he told them who had sent him. They might already know, might be after proof; that would explain why they weren’t in a hurry.
Would they really let him out if he told them? Unlikely. Besides, Advisor Yoshida wouldn’t take treason well. Usagi either. He couldn’t afford to drop further in her esteem; she’d barely spoken to him since the disastrous reveal, watching him with wary eyes.
Would Usagi notice he’d been unconscious for far too long? Would she care to feed his body or would she allow it to waste away? How long could a human body last under these conditions? Would he even feel it if his body died? He wished he knew.
But knowing these things wouldn’t get him out of here. He poked and prodded the vase from inside, finding no crack to squeeze through. He couldn’t shift to the spirit realm either. Hmm, could he do the opposite?
He rarely did this, but he could fold himself down like a piece of scroll, fold and fold until he was so dense it made him solid, real. He hit one side of the vase, then the other. The vase shook, a little. Again, and again, and again—yes, it was rocking! Harder, harder! If the vase fell and shattered, he would be free.
You’re excited, Grandmother Naoko said. Best we put you somewhere safer.
He could hear her, but not see or sense her. He was only vaguely aware of motion, but someone seemed to have picked up the vase, presumably to put in on the floor or elsewhere he couldn’t hope to shatter it by rocking. He screamed in frustration, wordlessly and noiselessly. If that annoying fox hadn’t been watching! But maybe she always watched. She didn’t require sleep anymore, did she?
Well, he didn’t require sleep either. He’d think of something.
Without such things as hunger or the sight of the sun to judge time, he could only guess he’d been in here for several hours. Usagi could be, right at this moment, worrying over why he hadn’t risen yet. He wouldn’t find out unless he went back to her, so he’d better find a way.
He settled down in a puddle at the bottom of the vase, and thought furiously.
Chapter Nine
Sanae
T ravelling speedily was easier when they didn’t have supply carts to drag along. Everything unnecessary for battle had been left in the village, unguarded. There was nobody to steal from them.
A halt was called; they gathered, looking to their guide as he said, “This is as far as we can go unseen. As soon as we cross the ridge, we’ll be in plain view. Dead trees provide no cover.”
Their guide had scouted ahead the entire time, occasionally falling back to indicate the way was clear. He looked less tired, as if excitement was a temporary cure for flagging health.
The fighters had brought weapons, water, cold snacks, and supplies to tend wounds. The scribe had brought his writing table, several bottles of inks, and enough parchment to detail weeks of fighting. Sanae hadn’t brought anything other than a few nuts wrapped in a piece of fabric.
“We could use a close scout,” the scribe said politely, side-eying Akakiba. “They’ve already seen a fox in the area; perhaps you could attempt to contact the woman we have inside? She has three tiny beauty marks on her right cheek.”
Before Akakiba had to try to explain he couldn’t shift fox, Sanae tugged on his hair and launched into the air to glide to the ground.
“There’s our scout,” Jien said. “Give her a message to carry.”
The scribe looked skeptical, but nonetheless applied brush to scroll to produce a
Similar Books
