“It’s a good thing that I won’t give you the chance to put your dark plot into operation,” said Kuni. He slammed his fist down on the table, and ten guards below the raised platform lifted speaking tubes toward the sea and shouted as one: “Ram the ship!”
As the stunned soldiers on Kimo’s ship scrambled to lift anchor and get the ship underway, thinking that Kuni intended to ram their ship with his, the sea beneath the ships began to churn.
“A whale?” asked one of the soldiers.
“A cruben?” asked another.
Than Carucono peered out of one of the thick pieces of crystal that acted as the mechanical cruben’s eyes. The great underwater boat was hovering about fifty feet below the surface, and faint sunlight made the water appear a dark green. From time to time, fish swam past the porthole.
Behind him, soldiers inside the dank interior of the mechanical cruben stood at the ready to open the valves of the steam engine powered by heated rocks picked up from underwater volcanoes. Cogo Yelu had followed the secret maps drawn by Luan Zya more than a decade ago and designated a meeting spot for Emperor Ragin and Duke Kimo near one of these underwater volcanoes.
Carucono’s ear was held against the opening of the breathing tube that extended to the buoy disguised as a clump of seaweed bobbing at the surface.
He heard the order he had been waiting for.
“Go, go, go!”
The crew leapt into action, some throwing levers and twisting dials, others running toward the tail of the mechanical cruben in disciplined motion to shift its internal balance and tilt up the bow. The underwater boat was about to surface.
The sea exploded.
The ironwood horn slammed into Kimo’s ship from below, lifting it almost out of the water and breaking it in half instantly. The sound of masts breaking and spars snapping deafened ears as the smell of the hot sulfuric steam that powered the mechanical cruben overwhelmed noses.
Sailors and marines were tossed from the deck, screaming for mercy and praying to Tazu and Tututika. As broken pieces of the hull and masts tangled in rigging fell back down and slammed into the water, it was clear that Kimo and his men had no choice but to wait to be rescued and then shackled by the emperor.
But Kuni Garu stared up at the sky, his jaw hanging open. There, tracing out a graceful arc of flight, was the figure of Théca Kimo. He tumbled in the air a few times, and then the voluminous robes he wore spread open like the wings of a giant bird. Spring-loaded bamboo rods snapped into place, stretching the robes into a massive kite. Like the Hegemon in his surprise attack on Zudi fifteen years earlier, Théca Kimo slowly glided toward Arulugi, suspended beneath a stringless kite.
The craftsmen of Arulugi had always been skilled with the construction of flexible structures, lacing bamboo and vine into the graceful hanging platforms of the city of Müning, the diadem that floated over Lake Toyemotika. Cano Tho had designed the platform on which Kimo sat to act as the end of a catapult. The arm, made of strong bamboo, was winched down and held in place with rope. However, as soon as something went wrong, Kimo could trigger the catapult and cause himself to be ejected into the air, out of harm’s way, and then glide back to Arulugi on a kite combining the design elements of Luan Zya and Torulu Pering. The kite, with its complicated folding frame so that it could be worn in disguise, was fragile and prone to accidents and certainly not reliable enough for regular use. Cano had insisted that Kimo wear it only as a last measure of desperation, but as it turned out, it would save Kimo’s life today.
Archers scrambled onto the deck, but the kite was already too far. As Kuni watched Kimo glide out of reach, he sighed, knowing that the peace that had ruled the Islands of Dara for ten years had come to an end.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LIGHT AND REASON
- Grant me this boon, brother, said the musical voice of Tututika.
- Why have you chosen to aid Kuni’s daughter, instead of your own island? asked Fithowéo the Warlike.
- I act out of respect for the memory of Kikomi.
- But Théca has promised Cano Tho to erect a shrine in her honor if his rebellion succeeds.
- The best memorial for Kikomi isn’t a shrine of stones or wood, but a princess free to fulfill her potential.
- Why not continue the lessons yourself?
- The crafting of mirrors is your art.
- And so you’ve come to the sightless god to help her see.
- As a sightless orchid once helped you.
- I’m the god of warfare. Tutoring young girls isn’t really… something I’ve done much.
- You’re the god of all those who find joy in dauntless struggle. Not all wars are fought with swords and spears, and not all foes are found on the battlefield. The times are changing, brother, and we must change along with them.
Théra leaned against the balustrade overlooking the carp pond in a secluded corner of the palace. The ornamental fish—vermillion, gold, black, white, sapphire, jade—swam below her, creating endless ripples that interfered with each other in complicated patterns.
What did the lady mean? Light is a wave? How does that help with the mystery of the magic mirrors?
A pretty tune came to her from somewhere deeper in the palace. She didn’t recognize the instrument on which it was being played. The high tones were clear as wind chimes, the low tones as solemn as the song of the cruben. Each note lingered in the air, blending with the next and the next one after that.
She went in search of the source of the sound, and after many winding corridors and long porticos, she came into the music hall, where the emperor and Consort Risana sometimes retired to play the coconut lute, sing, and dance.
Fara skipped over to her. “Rata-tika! Isn’t this pretty?”
Surprised, Théra hugged her. “It is, Ada-tika.”
A wooden frame about the height of a man had been installed in the middle of the hall. The frame had two horizontal beams, one at the height of the head, the other at the height of the waist. From each beam hung eight smooth bronze slabs of various thicknesses, each about the size of a very large book.
A lean, middle-aged man knelt at the foot of the frame in mipa rari, and he was playing the music by striking the slabs with a pair of long-handled mallets. He wore a short-sleeved tunic, and his arms bulged with muscle, and the skin was marked with scars both old and new. Théra found it a bit odd to see these arms, which seemed to belong to a blacksmith or soldier rather than a musician.
The sisters stood listening to the music. It took almost the time of burning a full stick of incense before the man finished. He sat back and gently set the mallets down, and waited until the last note slowly dissipated.
He turned around and bowed. “I hope the rough music was pleasing to the princesses.”
Fara clapped. “It was wonderful! Auntie Risana will love to hear this when she’s back.”