The thing he could still try to run from.
Ayane pressed against him, hand still clasped in his.
Too late for that. Too late for all of it. The pieces were in place, moving toward confrontation, homemade chi-bombs clutched in their hands. To think they believed they had a chance. To think anyone here believed there could be a way out of this. To stand against the colossus of iron and smoke that even now would be stretching its limbs, gunning its motors, chainblades blotting out the moon.
There was no fighting it. Not this way. Against the Earthcrusher, this rabble had no chance at all …
“You’re Yukiko’s Guildsman.”
Kin blinked his way free of his reverie, focusing on the big man now standing in front of him. Akihito looked him up and down; a mountain carved in flesh, impassive face, massive arms folded across a barrel-broad chest.
“You were on the Thunder Child,” he said.
“I was,” Kin replied.
“They say you helped her escape. Built metal wings so the arashitora could fly her free.”
“I did.”
The big man stared hard, eyes as cold and black as flint. Kin felt other stares upon him, sweat tickling the back of his neck. Slowly, deliberately, Akihito extended one massive paw.
“Then you have my thanks. And I would call you friend.”
Kin glanced around the room, at the sharp stares and pursed lips, distrust hanging so thick in the air he could scrape it away with his fingernails. He looked back at the giant, down at the extended hand, tongue cleaving to his teeth.
“I’m not so sure you want a friend like me, Akihito-san.”
Daichi was standing near the map table, caught Kin’s eye and motioned him closer, asking him to outline the refinery layout to the strike team one last time. Kin stepped away from the giant with an apologetic bow and looked at the assembled Kagé—the Shadow crew that would slip between the cracks and light a conflagration in the Guild’s innards. Kaori would lead them, taking a dozen men into the refinery core and reducing it to cinders. The rest of the Kagé would disperse in the city, drawing out forces from chapterhouse and palace, making the Shōgun and Guild denude their stronghold defenses to protect their streets.
Daichi would oversee the Shadow strike into the Tiger palace—just a swift handful, light as knives, stealing through the chaos and wresting the Lady Aisha from her wedding bed. Kin stared at the Kagé who would guard their general on the back lines, young and fierce as tigers. The faces of the boys who had tried to kill him. Who had hurt Ayane.
Isao. Atsushi. Takeshi.
Their distrust was palpable, stares drifting to the input jacks at his wrists, the pale slip of a girl behind. The legacy of her assault was still carved on their arms. Their vengeance written in her hollow, haunted eyes.
Daichi patted Kin’s back; a show of endorsement, of faith despite it all. The way his father used to do in the workshop, in days before he dreamed of dissent or betrayal or revolution. Before he even knew what those words meant.
Kin unrolled a hand-drawn map of the refinery sewage system, took a dozen chess pieces and began to speak. He outlined approach. Breach. Security. Contingencies. Every nuance, every possible outcome. He took Kaori over the homemade chi explosives again and again, explaining in minute detail how to arm the devices and where they should be placed for optimum results.
“The explosion will be large enough to damage the refinery core and draw out their troops,” he said. “But you need to place the charges in the catalyst tanks on level two. Anywhere further along the line, you risk setting off a reaction that could ignite the chi stores.”
“So?” Kaori said. “The more damage we do, the better.”
“There are close to fifty thousand gallons of chi in those tanks. If they ignite, they take most of Kigen with them. You must hit the tanks on level two. Nowhere else.”
Kaori scowled. “You should be coming with us. You know this pit better than anyone. This city is a bleeding scab, but I’ve no mind to blow it all to the hells.”
“I’m no warrior.” Kin shook his head. “The battle with the oni should be proof enough of that. And believe me, you’re going to need warriors inside. Even drawing out their forces, the refinery will still be crawling with Lotusmen. You’re going to have to fight your way out.”
“Nevertheless, we could use you, Guildsman.”
Kin felt Ayane slide up behind him, press against his spine, slip her hand back into his. He remembered her sobbing in the dark.
The taste of her tears.
The echo of her voice.
“We don’t belong here.”
“Just stick to the plan,” he said. “I’ll be of more use elsewhere.”
43
NOT FALLING
Michi sat alone in the dark, red candle burning in the window. Waiting for the tickticktick of the Guild drones, or the bushimen come to arrest her, or No One to arrive against all hope and deliver the forged key beneath her door.
But none of them came.
Night fell with no sign of her fellow conspirator, and her hopes began to fade. Unless she’d been discovered, No One would have found some way to get word to her. If she was compromised, she was probably in a torture cell right now, trying to keep Michi’s name from spilling into the air along with her screams.
All around her, she could hear wedding preparations underway; servants running past her doorway, raised voices, distant music. She peered through her barred window, saw great amulets of red silk strung from the garden balconies, cooking smoke billowing from the kitchen doors, the children of some Fushicho noble playing with wooden swords in the garden. Would the Kagé let this happen? Would Yukiko? Surely they were on their way? In Kigen already? And she knew nothing of their plans.
Blind. Deaf. Dumb.
Gods, I feel so helpless.
She was trying to unscrew the bolts in the ceiling with her bare hands when she heard the tickticktick of a drone above her head, traversing the narrow spaces that had once been just another hallway to her and her fellows. She tried picking the lock on her door to no avail. And finally she punched the doorframe, bloodying her knuckles, pacing her room like the tigers imprisoned in the palace grounds. Breath heaving. Heart pounding.
“Burn slow,” she whispered. “Burn slow.”
But she couldn’t. This was the moment everything hung in the balance. Not just the fate of the First Daughter, the Tora clan, Kigen city. This was the future of the entire country. The wedding would give new life to the dynasty that had enslaved Shima to the chi-mongers. Another monster on the throne. Another century of slavery, death and suffocating smoke.
She crouched in a corner, banging the back of her head against the wall, her hopes breathing their last. No One wasn’t coming. She’d been discovered. They were undone, here, at the eleventh hour. Fists clenched. Mouth dry. So far away.
And then came a knocking at her door.
She looked up at the sound of a key in the lock, smoothing the hair from her face, wiping frustrated tears from her eyes. She stood, gritted her teeth, ready to go down fighting as the bushimen seized her. As good a place as any to die, she supposed. But they’d never take her alive. On her feet. Not crawling. Not falling. Never.
Never.
A figure stepped into the room, nodded to the bushimen outside, closed the door behind him. Smile upon his face. A large package in his arms.
“… Ichizo?”