The road ran narrow as it reached the guard station of the Scales, marked with wooden poles, dividers, a low, sweeping fenland facing north, and pampas grasses with their feathery stems in a breeze. The hillside rose like a scoop of earth kicked up by some giant’s paw. Between two narrow crevices, a kind of gulley led toward the gate. Watched day and night by Iyo’s men, the entrance to the north meant the end of the empire’s power; it lay between two sets of mountains and the highway, a small path between them at the lowest point, like crossing waves.
Here, she saw, for the first time, the extent of Tokuon’s army. His full force came to hundreds of riders, twice as many horses, perhaps two thousand total soldiers.
“This is what the start of a war looks like, pigeon,” said a voice.
A sound, a jangle of prayer rings, and she turned to find her teacher the crow monk ambling toward her on a roan horse. He had his staff in one hand, a round traveling hat, and the sacred spear-blade still in its purple wrapping on his back.
“You followed me?” she asked. “How did you know where I went?”
He gave her a wry look. “It wasn’t hard, Rui. I’m tasked with looking after you. Make sure you stay out of trouble. Seems I haven’t done so well, neh?”
But his smile fell. “Yes, this is what the start of war is like. And yet, it is exactly where you are determined to go.”
They went to the great gate, three stories tall, with an open palisade to watch the road. Vertical bars lined the windows of upper floors, slits for arrows. She smelled yesterday’s fire in the air. A scout called: “Who approaches?”
“Travelers from Kitano,” Jobo said as they dismounted. “We must speak with the Hoshiakari.”
The guards emerged and Jobo ordered Rui to surrender her weapon. Under the leers and the mutterings of low-kijin guard, they were brought into the gate, where the Jibashiri had set up their camp.
Two figures emerged from the gatehouse, wearing traveling armor and surrounded by their scouts. The sisters, Myorin and Tsuna of the Gensei clan. They wore deep indigo and lacquered black: Tsuna had a small crest of the star-shaped gentian flower on her helm; Myorin, antlers of a deer.
“Hell,” fox-eyed Tsuna muttered. “It’s the fighter.”
“I need to talk to Sen,” said Rui.
“He isn’t here, Rui no’in,” Myorin said, willowy and tall. “He went ahead, with our cousin Tokuon, to his lands. We meet at Kiseda.”
“Then we’ll join you.” Jobo stood beside her. “On your journey west.”
Tsuna gave him a look. “Will you?”
“I have leave from the lord of Kitano,” Jobo said, affronted. “Let us pass. With you or without, we go to meet your lords.”
Tsuna smirked, about to dismiss them, but Myorin stepped forward. “Girlisa fighter,” she said. “Maybe we can use her.”
Her sister scoffed. “You’d have her in the Jibashiri?”
“Jibashiri don’t care about one’s birth. And like I said. Girl’s a fighter. She’s clearly loyal.”
“No’in,” said Tsuna, considering. “You think you’d be a warrior?”
“I’ll do anything.”
Tsuna eyed her for a moment, gave a shrug. “Your choice, sister. See if you can make something of her.”
“I can be a soldier,” Rui said.
“Oh, we’re not soldiers, dear,” Myorin said. “We’re much worse than that.”
Jobo remained silent as they went into the camp, his staff and its prayer rings held loosely in one hand. He was watching her, Rui saw. When she met his eyes, a strange expression passed over his features: a quiet, deep emotion, like pain, but also, resignation. Like he’d seen that this would be her path, and hoped it wasn’t true. He stepped along the road beside her, saying nothing, and when she turned to him, he simply gave a nod.
Something’s coming, he had said.
Beyond the light of the fires, the moon hung low over the fields and the shadows of the mountains. A chill cut through the air. The god’s voice sounded in her ears, a drip of water, then the roar of the high mountain falls, echoing, cold, and cavernous. She heard them distantly, as though they were whispering, and they drew her to them. She slowed, allowingthe sisters to pace ahead of her, as she tried to block out the world and hear the god that was laughing in her heart.
“Bird-child,” they said. “You will go.”
The others had stopped, and were calling for her to hurry up, but she barely heard them. She could only hear the god’s voice in her ear, the murmur of earth and roots. They whispered, then spoke clearer, from somewhere deep inside her.At the end, there will be one thing waiting for you, they said.At the end, there will be death.
