Rui pulled away, twisting, and when he grabbed for her, she flinched back with the rake still in her hand.
The prongs caught him on the cheek.
He fell, against the door; a hand went to his face.
Everything in the world slipped away.
“Howdareyou,” he hissed, feeling his jaw. A minor wound, a scratch, but it was enough.
She’d struck a lord. She’d struck akijin.
He went for his sword. She ran. The Betto stumbled before them, prostrate, begging for forgiveness, but Hakaru shoved off with knotted fists, even as his brother called for him to stop, and Rui panicked, saw nothing but the rage, the fists, the sword, and kicked him in the knee.
When he fell, she fled.
Past the stables and the horses within.
Past the courtyard and the trees she’d once admired.
Past the winding path, and the barn gate, and the road beyond.
After that, only fragments. “Get away from me!” she cried, stumbling, hitting cobblestones. Nihira appeared, trying to get his brother back; she tripped again, clawed herself away.
She didn’t know where she was going. Her leg bloomed in pain; she fell. All she wanted was a home, a place where she could say,I’m here –only now the guards were rushing at her and she heard the screeching of a crowd and smelled the pale, flat stench of terror.
How had it come to this, so fast? This, over a stupid little thing?
She found her feet too late. The first guard rammed her from behind, and they went flying, both of them, into the dirt. Whipping around, she landed a fist in his face, loosening his arms. He hit her, knocked the air from her lungs, and left her gasping, and his hand was on her wrists, a massive weight pressing down, and she spit at him; he smacked her in the sternum, knocked the wind from her again. She wheezed, trying to wrench sideways and twist, and finally she kicked him, hard, into the wall.
And she was off.
The gate lay just ahead.
There was a time when she would’ve given anything to work here, in Kitano. To go in through the gate, the wide yard by the hillside, the winding path that led to Mount Kanzan and the temple at its peak. To walk ashighborn walked, as kijin walked with their embroidered robes; to speak to the boy she’d been found with, to say,You think we could be friends?And to find, as if two souls had met inside her, a kind of coming home.
Instead, she felt a wave of horror.
Instead, it was too late.
I should have stayed at the temple, she thought.I should have stayed with the nuns. I should have prayed to O-ine before I left.
Now the gate was close. Now the guards had drawn their blades.
She was almost there. Almost free. She had no plan. She didn’t know what she would do. Didn’t know what shecoulddo. Only this:escape.
A guard beside the gatehouse. He was young – too young – and as he lunged, she spun inside his arc and tried to get through the gate, but they were already hauling it closed, and she was out of time, and the guard, the boy, he turned, his spear about to gut her, but he hesitated. A flash of indecision marred his eyes, and he faltered.
And she leaped, just as he made a half-hearted swing across her legs. She jumped over the blade, landed in a roll, and when he made another strike, she ducked beneath the razor edge, closing in before he turned, and, on instinct, yanked his spear, slammed his chest with a shoulder, and knocked him down.
The short-spear fell into the dust; she grabbed it, taking it from him, and, keeping her momentum, swung in three quick cuts to keep the other guards at bay. Then ran off, tripping once with the shaft and making for a side gate. Guards poured from watch posts. She had to change direction fast, spinning with the spear in the air like a windmill. The ways were blocked. Soon, three more guards behind her. A sally-port beyond, and in front of her a wall, and she spun too fast around its corner, and the boy was there, the youngest guard: sword in one hand, he tried to grab her with the other, and she turned, and the speed was too much, she’d already spun back the way she came, and there he was, too late, colliding into her.
The spear – his spear, the one she stole –
It caught him in the gut.
His sword fell.
He made a strange, wet, gasping sound, his eyes wide, full of fear.
