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Sandand
Bone
Sandand
Bone
D. Moonfire
Broken Typewriter Press • Cedar Rapids
Copyright © 2016 D. MoonfireSome Rights ReservedCreative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0International
Cover art by D. Moonfire
All characters, events, and locations are fictitious. Anyresemblance to persons, past, present, and future iscoincidental and highly unlikely.
Some scenes and themes that appear in this book: death ofnamed characters, death of a named child, death of animalsboth named and unnamed, graphical violence, personaltragedy, physical abuse, and torture. There is sex but noexplicit scenes. There is no rape.
Broken Typewriter Press5001 1st Ave SESte 105 #243Cedar Rapids, IA 52402
Broken Typewriter Presshttps://broken.typewriter.press/
ISBN 978-1-940509-25-9
Version 1.1.0
To Jenny and Jackie
A family splityears ago.Sisters lost
but not forgotten.An idle question.Once again…Reconnected.
Miwāfu
This novel is set in the Mifuno Desert where the nativelanguage is Miwāfu. Names in this language are significantlydifferent from English, so here is a short guide onpronunciation and usage.
The biggest difference is that every name is gendered,which is identified by the accent on the penultimate syllable.There are three types of accents:
• Grave (as in hèru for stallion) is a tiny tick that goesdown to the right. The grave accent indicates amasculine aspect, either in physical gender, size, orpower. Names with grave accents either end in a lowerpitch or the entire word is spoken in a lower tone.
• Macron (for example, hēru for colt) is a bar over thevowel. This is a neuter term, used for many gender-freewords or expressions within the language. It is also usedfor mechanical devices, abstract concepts, and children—both human and beast. Macrons are spoken as a longvowel or drawing out the word just a beat longer thannormal.
• Acute (héru for mare) is a tiny tick that goes to the upperright. The acute indicates feminine aspects of the word.It can represent control without power or precision.These words end on a high note or the entire word isspoken in a higher pitch.
The only instances where accents aren’t used is adjectivesor indication of ownership. So, if a valley is owned by the clanShimusògo, it is known as Shimusogo Valley.
The names themselves are phonetic. A syllable is alwaysfrom a consonant cluster to the vowel. For examples: Mi.wā.fu(IPA /mi.waː.ɸɯ̥/), Shi.mu.sò.go (/ɕi.mɯ.ꜜso.ɡo/), and De.sò.chu(/de.ꜜso.tɕɯ̥/). The only exception is the letter “n” which isconsidered part of the syllable before it when not followed by avowel. For example, ga.n.ré.ko (/ɡa.ŋꜛɾe.ko/) and ka.né.ko (/ka.ꜛne.ko/).
Miwāfu has no capital letters, they are added to satisfyEnglish conventions.
Previously
Sand and Ash started with Rutejìmo as an outsider to his ownclan. After the events of Sand and Blood, he had beenaccepted as an adult of the clan but not universally welcomed.He found a courier route which he ran alone, and spent littletime in Shimusogo Valley. In his hours alone he nursed acrush on Mikáryo—the night warrior who attacked him in theprevious book, only to save him later.
Despite his avoidance of the valley, a young woman,Mapábyo, developed a crush of her own on him. The rest of theclan tried to subtly discourage Rutejìmo’s fantasies for awoman he hadn’t seen in a decade and encourage hisattention on the girl, who they felt was a better choice for himas a life partner.
Things changed when Mapábyo went on her own rite ofpassage. When she survived, she emulated Rutejìmo—whichrevealed the animosity that had grown between him and hisolder brother, Desòchu. Desòchu treated Rutejìmo as a poisonto the clan, mainly driven by Rutejìmo’s inability to follow thesame path as the others.
After Mapábyo’s entrance into adulthood, the clan decidedto strongly encourage a relationship between her and
Rutejìmo by their usual method: taking them into the desertand abandoning them to find love. This failed when theyarrived at Wamifuko City where Rutejìmo met up with hisdecade-long crush, Mikáryo. Lost in his own fantasies, heabandoned his own people for days while rekindling hisrelationship with her. When it ended, she cast him out to goback to his life.
Sullen, he returned to his family only to be attacked by hisbrother and kicked out of the clan for a year. He quickly foundthat being without a clan was a death sentence in the desertand only Mapábyo, acting in direction violation of the clanelders, was able to save him as she caught up with him andprotected him against the ostracization of being clan-less.
During this time, Rutejìmo was given various chores andtasks to complete, such as taking out garbage and burningcorpses. The latter became more important as he learned therituals of tending to the dead. Later, he would meet withanother kojinōmi, a caretaker of the dead. He embraced histasks as a comforter to the dying and the one who couldhandle the corpses.
The Shimusògo’s goal of getting the two together finallysucceeded when Rutejìmo fell for Mapábyo. They tried to avoidreturning to Shimusogo Valley but were eventually forcedback. Rutejìmo was still ignored as someone without a clan,which led to him almost killing himself and fleeing forever,only stopping when his friends skirted around disobeying theelders and encouraged him to stay through subtle behaviors.
Months later, Mapábyo and he were expecting their firstchild. Unfortunately, an accident caused her to lose her childto miscarriage and one of Rutejìmo’s best friends died. In theprocess, Desòchu realized that his brother had his own path tofollow, which was greatly different from the path of a warrior.
The rest of the year passed and Rutejìmo was finallyallowed to return to the clan. His first words were to askMapábyo to marry him.
Chapter 1
Running Away
The clans understand the masculine powers of Tachìra and Chobìre. Theyhave no sub tle ty com pared to the fe mi nine whis pers of Mi fúno.
—Ko re chyo ki Ba ro shìko
screech filled the air, radiating away from the sharp cliffsthat sur ro u nded Shi mu sogo Val ley. Even ripped from a hu ‐man’s throat, the sound traveled further than a mere cry couldever match. It rolled along the sand dunes and past the shortridges of rocks peppe ring the desert a ro und the val ley.
Rutejìmo froze when the sound slammed into him. Thescreech demanded action, forcing him to focus on the cliffsthat framed the home valley. The sound continued past him,but he heard it repeating in his head like a memory refusing tobe forgotten. He clenched his hand, and the leather ball he wasa bout to throw slipped from his palm and la nded on the gro ‐und with a mut ed thud.
A rod—just over sixteen feet—from him, Mapábyo turned tolook toward the valley. He could see her from the corner of hisvision, her nearly black skin hard to miss against the brownsand. He wa nted to look at her, but the screech pulled his at ten ‐
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tion to the valley where a crowd already gathered around agold en flame.
“J-Jìmo?” whispered Mapábyo. “What happened? Whocalled us?”
Rutejìmo couldn’t tear his eyes away from the cliff. At theen trance of the val ley, be tween the two large ba nners that de ‐clared the Shimusogo Clan’s home, the fire continued tostretch up until it became a vortex of flames and wind. Tinymotes of light spun around it; if he were closer, he knew hewould see translucent feathers. “Chimípu,” he answered. Onlythe clan’s warriors were capable of displaying such power, andall but Chi mípu were out pro tect ing the clan’s co uri ers.
“Papa?” asked Kitòpi, Rutejìmo’s son. The small voice of thefive-year-old car ried over the sands.
Ru te jìmo forced him self to look away from the val ley, strug ‐gling against the need to run home. His son was over a chain,sixty-six feet, away—holding his hands up while waiting forthe ball. Un like Ru te jìmo and Ma pábyo, he didn’t seem aff ect ‐ed by the screech still echo ing in Ru te jìmo’s head.
Curious, Rutejìmo glanced over his shoulder to Mapábyo.His wife stood on her toes to look over the dunes to see intothe valley. Her orange skirt fluttered in the breeze exceptwhere Piróma, their three-year-old daughter, clung to her leg.The lit tle girl’s black hair snapped in the wind, bounc ing a ‐gainst the orange fabric. At the far end of her braid was a smallmet al ring that preve nted it from fly ing up.
“We should go,” Ma pábyo said, “the oth ers are al ready head ‐ing back.”
Ru te jìmo turned back to the val ley. Co ming in from all di ‐rec tions were the co uri ers of the clan. They all ran aft er translu ‐cent small birds, the manifestation of Shimusògo; the speed oftheir sprints kick ing up long plumes of sand and dust.
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Mapábyo took a step toward the valley. “Jìmo?” She used theshortened form of his name, a name only used among friendsand fam i ly.
He hesi tat ed as a diffe rent pres sure arose in him. A com ‐mand far more subtle than the screech. He shook his head andheld his breath, straining to hear something over the breezeand shift ing sands.
A flicker of movement shot out from the valley. His gazecaught it, and he watched as it sailed across the sands, leavingno footprints or dust behind. It was a shimusogo dépa, thesmall birds that the clan chased, but it moved far faster thanthe oth ers. It cov ered the mile be tween Ru te jìmo and the val ‐ley in a mat ter of sec onds.
He spun as it passed, watching it sail across the sand. Aprickle of fear surfaced as he felt magic gathering along thepath the dépa took. With a gasp, he spun around. The smallbird always ran just as fast as the runner who chased it, whichmeant that Chimípu would be passing soon. Stepping towardMa pábyo, he called out. “Get Tópi!”
Mapábyo frowned at Rutejìmo and clutched Piróma. “W-What!?”
“Shield Tópi! I can’t get to him fast enough!” he yelled just asan oth er translu cent bird ran past him. He could feel the en er ‐gy grip him, and he sprinted after it. He accelerated into a blurand cov ered the dis tance to Pi róma in a heart beat.
When he dropped to his knees to sweep up his daughter,Mapábyo was already gone in a cloud of sand. The wind of herpass ing whipped at his face un til he bent over his daugh ter.
“R-Rutejìmo?” whispered his daughter, her soft voice loudin the space be tween his arms.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded and pulled her tight to hisbare chest.
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She bu ried her face into the black curls that dust ed his pec ‐torals and sternum. Her tiny arms wrapped around his sideand she clutched tight.
“Hold on,” he whispered into her dark hair and held hertight. “She’s go ing to—”
A woman sprinted past. She moved in a blur faster than hiseyes could focus. She disappeared from sight before he couldblink, leaving only an afterimage of golden flames behind. Itwas Chimípu, one of the clan’s warriors and the fastest runnerin the val ley.
Rutejìmo tensed just as the wind of Chimípu’s passingpunched into him. Rocks and sand slashed into his back. Theim pact tore through flesh and gouged his shoul ders and sides.
Piróma cried out and yanked her hands against his chest,trying to shield them more effectively. He saw blood welling upfrom many small scratches on her dark skin, abrasions fromthe sand blast ing past them.
His stom ach twist ed with frus tra tion.Wind continued to slash past him, slicing through his
trousers and leav ing more cuts along his back and neck.Rutejìmo grabbed Piróma’s head and pressed his palms to
her ears. “Wait for—”The second blast struck in an ear-shattering crack. Unlike
the first, which only cut his back and left him bloody, the sec ‐ond struck with the force of a steel hammer and the roar of theair be ing ripped apart. The so und burst across his vi sion, turn ‐ing sound into agony and blindness. The force tore open hisback, strip ping fur rows in his skin and rip ping flesh.
As soon as it came, the wind faded. Rutejìmo shuddered ashe lifted his head and stared at the desert behind his daughter.A shallow ravine had been scoured out of the desert, the forceof the wind sucking it clear from the bedrock. A few milesaway, the gouge in the desert continued through a field of rockand grav el. There was no sign Chi mípu had slowed.
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When blood be gan to drip down his back, he gro aned.Moments later, more dépas raced past them. All traveled
slower than Chimípu’s, but the flock of translucent spirits stillsailed past in a wave of rip pling pow er and translu cent feath ‐ers.
A blast of wind struck him and he looked up as Mapábyoappeared next to him in a cloud of dust. The sand sailed pastthem be fore quick ly set tling in new pat terns on the gro und.
“Jìmo, I need to go with them,” Mapábyo said as she slippedKi tòpi from her hip. She lo oked up a gain and pursed her lips.
Kitòpi brushed the sand from his face. Like his father, hewore no shirt while they were playing. He stepped away topeer at the ravine left by Chi mípu’s pass ing.
Air pressure rose rapidly, and then wind blasted past withthe first of the runners. More of them quickly followed, eachone kicking up winds that tugged at their clothes. Rutejìmobraced him self and watched as they passed, a sick feel ing gro ‐wing in his stomach. He saw brandished weapons and angryfaces.
When the last one raced by, Mapábyo turned to Rutejìmo.“Where do you need to go? With us or back home?” She restedher hand on a fight ing knife, one fi nger on the hilt and the oth ‐er on the sheath.
Rutejìmo glanced down the path left by Chimípu and theothers. He felt a tugging on his attention which drew him backto the valley. He bowed his head for a moment, then gesturedto Ki tòpi and Pi róma. “I’ll take them home.”
Mapábyo slipped up to him, her slender body fitting in hisarms. She kissed him on the lips. “I see you, Great ShimusogoRu te jìmo.” Her whis per bare ly rose above the wind swirling a ‐round them. The phrase “I see you” had carried them throughthe dark est part of their lives and into the light of hap pi ness.
He smiled and kissed her back. “I see you.”
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She stepped back as her own dépa raced behind her. Sheturned on her heels and sprinted away, accelerating out ofsight as she chased aft er the oth ers.
“M-Mama leav ing?” asked Pi róma in her high-pitched, del i ‐cate voice.
Ki tòpi lo oked at Ru te jìmo for a mo ment then said, “She’s go ‐ing to help the oth ers.”
Rutejìmo’s skin crawled at the disappointed look his songave him. He shook his head and held out his hands. “Comeon, we need to go back.”
Pi róma rushed over to Ru te jìmo, but Ki tòpi sulked slow ly af ‐ter her. Rutejìmo scooped them both up and jogged toward thevalley. A few steps later, a dépa of his own raced past, and hepushed him self to run aft er it. The world blurred as he ac cele ‐rated faster than he could without Shimusògo. He reached theval ley in min utes.
When he saw a crowd of teenagers, elders, and children, hecame to a shuddering stop. They were gathered around twopeople on the ground. One of them, Rutejìmo’s grandmother,cradled the body of a man, her long white hair draped over hershoul der and the heavy ring at the end swung with her move ‐ments.
With out tak ing his eyes off of the two on the gro und, Ru te ‐jìmo knelt to release his children. They slipped away and hestood up. He said nothing, but the crowds parted around himas he walked up.
His grandmother was holding Bakóki, a courier who hadcome home that day. He lay on his back, his mouth gapingwide as he tried to breathe. An arrow stuck out of his chest, thebroad head dripping a crimson pool beneath his torso. Wherethe shaft met ruined flesh, bright red bubbles formed andpopped with every gasp.
Te jíko, Ru te jìmo’s grand moth er, lo oked up as he ap ‐proached. She said noth ing, but her pierc ing green eyes fo ‐
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cused sharply on him. Her yellow dress, one of her favorites,had been sta ined from throat to knee with Ba kóki’s blood.
Ba kóki gro aned and slumped for ward, his dull eyes fo cus ‐ing on Ru te jìmo.
Rutejìmo stood there and looked back at Bakóki. The rest ofthe world faded away until he could sense only two people. Helet his own thoughts quiet with the rest of the world until heheard nothing but Bakóki’s labored breathing and the whisperof sand rolling across the dunes.
The sounds of the desert grew louder. The wind blew acrossBakóki and deposited swirls of golden grains across his face. Itclung to his wounds and formed ragged lines along the ridgesof blood-soaked fabric. A second breeze scattered more sandacross his body.
Years ago, Rutejìmo learned the world gave the answers ifhe remained quiet. The requests came in subtle movementand gestures, a token left by his door or a tool resting in hispath. Eventually, he learned that humans weren’t the onlysource of knowl edge.
More sand draped over Ba kóki’s body, set tling into his wo ‐unds and hair. Ru te jìmo watched as they rolled into the fur ‐rows of his clothes and the wrinkles of his skin. A few secondslat er, a stro nger wind blew more a gainst his body.
When Rutejìmo saw a familiar pattern, he let out his breathin a quiet gasp. The same pattern had draped over countlessbod ies of the dead and dy ing, i den ti fy ing the ones that he ne ‐eded to tend to while oth ers cared for those who would sur ‐vive. He wasn’t sure which spirit marked the bodies with sand.It couldn’t be Tachìra, the sun spirit and source of Shimusògo’spower. The sun spirit was more concerned with the glory ofwar riors and the end less fight a gainst the clans of the night.
Rutejìmo believed Mifúno, the mother of the desert, spoketo him. It terrified him to think she did; there were hundredsof sto ries of fools who cla imed to cha nnel her pow er that e ‐
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nded in their death. The desert didn’t suffer fools. Of the threegreat spirits, though, she was the only one who could mark thesand du ring day light, moon light, and the dark ness when nei ‐ther of the oth er spir its were in the sky.
The world around him came back into focus. He heard theebbs of con ver sa tion a ro und him, rip ples of whis pers and qu ‐iet words from those who couldn’t race aft er Chi mípu. Te e ‐nagers and chil dren were too yo ung, their minds not strong e ‐nough to see the ghost ly birds or to un der stand the clan’s pow ‐ers. The el ders were too weak to keep up with the clan’s pow ‐ers, nor could they sur vive a fight at the end of a run.
Rutejìmo glanced at his grandmother who looked back witha silent ques tion. He shook his head and stepped back.
Te jíko’s jaw tight ened, and she clutched Ba kóki tight ly.“Damn—” gasped Ba kóki.Silence shot through the crowds, all conversations stopping
in stant ly as Ba kóki choked out the words.“—the moon….”Bakóki’s words finished in complete silence. Green eyes, the
mark of the desert, rose to stare at Rutejìmo as he backedaway. There were tears in the people who stared at him alongwith looks of de spair and sad ness.
No one said a word as Rutejìmo turned his back to his clanand walked into the valley. He wasn’t running after the others,he wasn’t going to fight. He needed to fulfill his other duty, theone that didn’t come from Shimusògo or his clan, to serve thedesert moth er who had just cla imed Ba kóki.
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Chapter 2
Cowardice
No death is too hor rifi c for one who re fus es to de fend their clan.—Jyo bi kofu Ni shí gi
u te jìmo pushed aside the heavy bla nket block ing the en ‐trance to his home, a cave carved out of the side of the valley.He released it as he passed. The red fabric scraped along hisshoul der, and he felt the em bro i dered bumps of his and Ma ‐pábyo’s name be fore it slumped into place.
The sudden darkness blinded him. He held out his handand ran his fingertips along the familiar stone wall to make hisway to the back bedrooms. He stepped over piles of toys anddolls he forgot to have Kitòpi clean up the night before. Now,his duties for the dead would take him away for at least a day,if not lo nger.
By the time he reached the back rooms his eyes had ad just ‐ed to the dim light from the three glowing spheres hangingfrom the ceil ing. The blue light cast the room into stark shad ‐ows that clawed up the walls cov ered in chalk and scrib bles.
He stepped into the sleeping area and made his way to thefar end of the bed. His knees bumped against the stone blocks
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underneath the thick pad he shared with his wife. He kneltand pulled out a wo oden box. Stand ing, he set it on the bed.
Unlike most possessions, the box didn’t have a name on it.Only a single, carved word adorned the top: “Ash.” In a worldwhere the clan was important, a single name was unheard of.But, to Rutejìmo, it signified everything about his duty to thedead.
The lid creaked when he opened it. On a pile of undyedclothes rested a hand-made book with the same name. Givento Ru te jìmo by a woman he nev er heard speak, the book co n ta ‐ined the rituals he would need; the silent words to speak andthe prop er way of tend ing to the dy ing, and the rit u als to per ‐form for the dead.
Sadness gripped his heart as he set the book aside andpulled out the top set of clothes. There were no colors in thewhite fabric, nor had it been embroidered or decorated. Simplewhite colors to represent someone who took on the mantle ofdeath. The same colors he had worn when he was ostracizedfor be tray ing the Shi mu sògo.
He stripped quick ly and tossed his clothes in a bas ket for la ‐undry. The cool air of the cave washed over him, sinking intohis skin. He shiv ered be fore grab bing the fab ric. A few mo ‐ments lat er, he wore white.
“Papa?” Ki tòpi watched from the en trance of the cave.Rutejìmo almost looked at his son, but stopped himself.
When wearing white, he chose to step outside of society. Theadults of the clan knew to look away and not to speak to him.He was dead in their eyes while he wore white.
Children, on the other hand, didn’t understand the subtleways, and it wasn’t the clan’s nature to explain things, onlydemon strate. He let out his breath and kept his eyes avert ed.
Mapábyo had sheltered Kitòpi and Piróma from seeing theirfather in white, but she had to serve her clan just as much ashe had to serve Ba kóki.
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Rutejìmo listened for a moment, then winced inwardly. Hedidn’t expect Kitòpi to follow him, nor did he expect his son tostand in the en trance block ing Ru te jìmo’s de par ture.
Ki tòpi whis pered, “Why are you a cow ard?”Rutejìmo jerked at the accusing words. He had heard them
co unt less times whis pered in the com mu nal ar eas of the val ‐ley and out among the other clans. He knew that Kitòpi hadheard it from someone else, but to hear the words in his son’svoice punched him in the chest and gripped his heart tight ly.
“Why did you come here instead of going with Mama?”asked his son.
Next to Ki tòpi, Ru te jìmo heard Pi róma’s foot steps as she jo ‐ined her broth er.
Lifting his head to look at the ceiling, Rutejìmo struggledwith his options. To demonstrate he was among the dead, hecouldn’t talk or touch them. He couldn’t explain what he did,or his reasons, without betraying the ritual that started as soonas he pulled on white.
Kitòpi stepped forward. “You’re weak and slow, right? Is thatwhy you run away?”
Each word struck Rutejìmo, and he fought back the tears.He was the slow est of the clan. He didn’t have Chi mípu’s sta ‐mina or even Mapábyo’s strength. But, he was also the onlyone who could touch the dead, a calling he treasured as muchas his wife and chil dren.
“Boy,” a new voice said from the other room, “who are youtalk ing to?”
Kitòpi’s bare feet, less than a yard from Rutejìmo, scuffed ashe turned away from Ru te jìmo. “Pi dòhu?”
“Great Tateshyuso Pidòhu,” corrected Pidòhu. He used thepolite form of his name, which included the name of his clanspir it, Ta te shyú so. Pi dòhu lived in the val ley with the Shi mu ‐sògo as one of its guar di ans. His clan spir it had the same re ‐
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lationship with Shimusògo. “And I’ll ask again, who are youtalk ing to?”
“Papa. I was ask ing why he was—”“Your papa isn’t in here.” Pidòhu’s soft voice grew louder as
he ap proached.“He’s right there!”“I do not see him.”Kitòpi let out an exasperated grunt. “You aren’t looking, he’s
right—”“Boy!”Ru te jìmo bowed his head at the sharp tone, silent ly tha n ‐
king Pidòhu for helping without forcing Rutejìmo to break outof his role.
Ki tòpi stepped back, clos er to Ru te jìmo.“Boy!” yelled Pi dòhu.“He’s right—”“Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo is not here. You don’t see him.”Si lence.“This is the way it is. Your papa is dead right now—”“But—”Pidòhu continued smoothly. “—and the living cannot see
the dead. Only the dy ing can see them. Are you dy ing?”“No.”“Then your papa isn’t here. Ba kóki needs him.”“I-Is,” Pi róma’s voice rose as she whis pered, “Ba kóki dy ing?”For a long moment, there was silence. Rutejìmo held his
breath, fearing that Pidòhu had come to say that the courierhad passed on.
“I can not see him. Come over here.”Ru te jìmo heard Pi dòhu draw Ki tòpi away. Gra teful, Ru te ‐
jìmo stepped across the room and headed for the door, hishead bowed. When he saw Piróma’s feet still in the entrance,he froze.
Pi róma stood there, u nmov ing.
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“Ròma? Come over here, please.”With a swift movement, Piróma knelt in front of Rutejìmo.
He tried to look away, but her piercing green eyes caught hisown.
“Girl!” yelled Pi dòhu.Ru te jìmo’s breath froze in his throat. He could see the cu ‐
riosity in her eyes, and a solemn quietness that startled him.She didn’t smile or frown, only lo oked at him for a heart beat be ‐fore standing up. The stuffed animal in her hand, a red leatherdépa, swung a ro und her hip as she stepped away from Ru te ‐jìmo and pressed her back against the arch between the twocaves.
He let out his breath and tried to calm his rapidly beatingheart. The sight of her curious gaze swam in his thoughts as hehur ried past her and out of the cave. He ne eded to re turn be ‐fore Ba kóki passed on.
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Chapter 3
Exhaustion
Rit u als and names do mi nate every wa king mo ment of the bar ba ri ans’ lives.—Pi kin Bar, SuperiorityofBlood
melling of smoke and incense, Rutejìmo staggered home inthe early evening of the next day. He had walked naked acrossthe desert since sunrise, and his skin burned from exposure. Ahigh-pitched ringing echoed in his ears, and he struggled tokeep his eyes focused through the haze that settled into histhoughts. When he could focus his mind, he pictured theflames of the fu ner al pyre fla shing be fore him.
The tran si tion back to the liv ing requ ired a pu ri fi ca tion rit u ‐al that strained the mind and body. When he first read the rit u ‐al, it sounded simple enough: strip down and start walking atthe mo ment the sun ris es above the hori zon, and fol low it un ‐til it sets. It requ ired go ing a day with out food or wa ter, da n ge ‐rous in the desert.
Performing the ritual was an entirely different experience.The book didn’t speak of the agony of sunstroke, the fear ofbrigands and sandstorms, or even the struggle to keep walkingwhen the sun bore down and skin burned. He had done the rit ‐u al for five years, and each time it left him bare ly able to stand.
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He groaned and focused on the sun. Only a finger’s widthremained above the horizon, and he was still a league away.He forced himself not to despair and kept planting one foot infront of the other. His bare feet crunched on the gravel field,but he didn’t feel the sharp edges through the thick callousesof his soles.
A wave of dizziness slammed into him. His vision blurred,and the ringing intensified. He tried to force his foot to stepforward, but his sole refused to leave the ground. The effort tomove twist ed his hip, and his legs col lapsed.
He struck the earth with his knees. Agony shot up his thighsand spine to explode in the back of his eyes with a flash oflight. The ringing became a high-pitched whine, and the worldspun vi o lent ly a ro und him.
With a groan, he pitched forward. He couldn’t stop himselffrom landing face-first. The sharp rocks cut into his face andchest. He gro aned into the grav el. He tried to get his hands un ‐der neath him, but his limbs re fused to move.
He shuddered and exhaled, trying to concentrate throughthe pain tearing at his thoughts. His breath kicked up dust in asmall eddy that caught the last of the sun light. He pawed help ‐lessly in an attempt to stand up, but his body was too weak todo more than shove peb bles a ro und.
Rutejìmo sagged into the ground, heedless of the rocks thatcut into his face and pierced his thighs. He could smell bloodin the air, a cop pery smell that burned the back of his throat.
He considered remaining there until the vultures picked hisbones, but im ages of his fam i ly rose through the pain and fad ‐ing light. He groaned and scraped his fingers through therocks. As soon as he could, he balled his hands into fists andforced them into the gravel. He pushed himself up, ignoringthe rock cutting into his knuckles and the shuddering thatcoursed through him.
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It took all his strength to pull one knee underneath hischest. The cracked skin dug through the rocks, the chalkyscrape of stone on stone. He gasped and forced his other kneebeneath him. At the same time, he pushed himself up until hecould slump back on his knees and shins, balancing more byhis weight holding him in place than the slack muscles of hisbody.
Panting, he opened his eyes. It was dark out except for theband of red li ning the hori zon and a burn ing light stre a king to ‐ward him. He focused on the golden light as it left a trail ofsparkling motes be hind it. Chi mípu was the only one in the val ‐ley that night who could use magic after the sun set. Everyoneelse was limited by Shimusògo’s power, which came from thesun spirit. When the sun set, the magic fled all the clans of theday and left them as pow er less as chil dren.
She came to a stop in front of him, and the wind of her ru n ‐ning buffeted his face, peppering his abused body with debris,but it quickly died down with a rustle as rocks bounced off thegro und.
Chimípu rested one hand on her hip and held her other outfor him. A halo of golden flames and translucent feathers lither dark skin. It coursed along her red dish hair and set it wav ‐ing. Her eyes glit tered in the light and lo oked al most i n hu man.
She stepped forward and slipped her arm around his waist.“I’ve got you.” The flames continued to rise off her body, butthe fire didn’t burn him. Instead, it filled him with the sameeu pho ria he felt when he ran. The pow er of Shi mu sògo.
Rutejìmo groaned and leaned into her. Even though she wasslender, her body was hard as rock. She lifted him smoothly tohis feet and bore him as if he weighed nothing. The knifestrapped to her hip thumped a gainst his naked thigh.
She held him tight and aimed toward Shimusogo Valley.“The hardest part is always waiting for sunset. Some of us, likeyour wife, strug gle more than oth ers.”
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He nodded, but said nothing. He concentrated on walkingthe best he could, even though he knew that Chimípu wouldnev er let him fall.
They walked in silence. He pretended that she didn’t hearhis gasps and grunts. It didn’t matter that Chimípu had seenhim at his worst, he had to do his best to keep up with greatestwar rior he knew.
“We managed to save Nifùni and Byochína. Nifùni got somenasty bruises and cuts. Byochína needed stitches and will havea few scars to car ry to her grave, but oth er wise both will sur ‐vive. We lost most of the money they were carrying. They useda shadow dancer to run away,” her voice tensed, “and I couldn’tcatch him. Bas tard out ran me.”
Ru te jìmo glanced at her and saw the ten sion in her jaw.Chimípu let out her breath. It sparkled with the flames that
rolled off her body. “Tejíko is going to have a vote tomorrownight, when you re cov er. We need to find an oth er clan to co uri ‐er for. Otherwise we won’t have enough to pay for the valley’ssup plies.”
“Any,” he took a deep breath, “pos si bil i ties? We’re al ready ru ‐n ning for most of the sur ro und ing clans.”
“A few chances for more busi ness, but your broth er men ti ‐oned the biggest. The Ko sòbyo are lo o king for co uri ers.”
He stumbled. “Kosòbyo? They are on the opposite side ofthe Mi funo Desert. Why would they want us?”
Chimípu veered to guide Rutejìmo around a sharp-edgehole be tween two rocks. She wasn’t even breath ing hard com ‐pared to Rutejìmo’s panting. After a few rods of walking, sheanswered. “I guess when you are the most powerful clan underTachìra, your business covers all of Mifúno. They have allieseverywhere the sun touches and even a few places where themoon hides.” She pulled a face.
Rutejìmo chuckled. “I also have friends where the moonhides.” As a kojinōmi, he tended the dead for all clans, not only
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the ones who followed Tachìra but also the ones who gainedpow er from Ta chìra’s neme sis and ri val, Cho bìre.
“You’re not Kosòbyo.” She turned to smile at him. “You arethe lit tle broth er to most of the desert a ro und here.”
He stopped. “Only to you, Great Shi mu sogo Chi mípu.”Chimípu pulled her arm away, hovering near him until he
re ga ined his bal ance. Bru shing the hair from her face, she lo ‐oked him over and nodded. Stepping next to him, she gesturedto ward the val ley. “Come on, lit tle broth er. Your wife and chil ‐dren are hold ing di nner for you. And I was in vit ed.”
Only two peo ple called him “lit tle broth er,” Chi mípu and Ru ‐tejìmo’s older brother Desòchu. Normally, not being called byhis name was an i nsult. But from them, it was a term of aff ec ‐tion only spo ken in pri vate.
Glad for her presence, he headed home knowing that shewould catch him if he fell.
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Chapter 4
The Morning Before
The kojinōmi are the caretakers of the dying. They walk next to those whopass be tween the two worlds to e nsure their souls reach Mi fúno’s breast.
—Te doku Nu chi komu Ma chi kimu Ga rènu (Act 1, Scene 2)
ven in the depths of his fam i ly cave, Ru te jìmo knew the mo ‐ment the sun rose above the horizon. The delicate tickle ofpower started at the tips of his toes and fingers before quicklycoursing along his veins and bones. It reached his heart andblossomed into a euphoric wave of pleasure that quickenedhis breath and heart.
Across the valley, all the adults would be waking up in thesame manner. They were all part of Shimusògo’s clan, and thedépa’s pow er came from the sun spir it, Ta chìra.
Mapábyo let out a soft coo. She made the same sound everymorning, and he never tired of hearing it. Rutejìmo rolled onhis side and swept his leg for ward, bur ro wing through the bla ‐nkets until his shin thudded against the hard muscles of herleg. After so many years of sprinting across the desert, both oftheir legs were sol id as rock.
She let out a happy moan and backed up against him untilher buttocks nestled against the crook formed by his hips.
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“Good morn ing, my shi kāfu.” Shi kāfu once de scribed the lo n ‐ging Rutejìmo had for another woman but now it labeled thelove he felt for Ma pábyo.
He lift ed his head and propped him self on his el bow. Le a ‐ning over her, he slipped his hand around her waist, trailed hisfingers up until he cupped one of her breasts. A moment later,he fo und her nip ple and teased it into hard ness.
Mapábyo tilted her head back and he kissed her. “You betterhurry,” she said with a bump of her buttocks, “before the littleones—”
“Papa!” Ki tòpi’s cry only gave him a heart beat of warn ing be ‐fore he came cra shing down on Ru te jìmo’s thighs.
Dis ap po int ed at the i nter rup tion, Ru te jìmo rolled away.Kitòpi crawled over Rutejìmo’s rolling body. His hands and
feet jammed into Rutejìmo’s softer parts, bringing thuds ofpain as Kitòpi fumbled blindly over the blankets and into thevalley between his parents. He wedged himself between them,one knee against Rutejìmo’s stomach and, judging from thesoft grunt, the oth er a gainst his moth er.
Rutejìmo groaned from the ache of being jabbed. “Youknow, Tópi, there is a glow light on the ta ble by the arch.”
“No,” Kitòpi grunted, “I’m good. Just… there!” His foot nailedRu te jìmo in the groin.
Ru te jìmo gro aned and bli nked away the sparks float ing be ‐fore his eyes.
The clicking of a travel light filled the room. Rutejìmo liftedhis head and looked toward his feet. A blue glow spread outfrom Piróma’s tiny fingers. It lit her face before spearing outthe space between her digits. The light came from a glasssphere with a crys tal ha n ging in side it. A clock work mech a ‐nism tapped a gainst the crys tal and, through a process Ru te ‐jìmo didn’t un der stand, ca used the translu cent piece of mi ner ‐al to glow. She shook it twice be fore set ting it on the bla nkets.
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Piróma stared at Rutejìmo, her eyes glittering, and pattedthe bed questi o ning ly.
Ru te jìmo smiled and held out his hand. “Come on.”She grabbed the blankets and hauled herself up. When she
stood on the bed, her nightgown fluttered back to her ankles. Itwas red, one of Shimusògo’s colors, but in the blue light, it wasblack as night. Only her eyes were lit up, giv ing him the im pres ‐sion of her be ing a cat. With a gig gle, she crawled over Ma ‐pábyo’s and Ru te jìmo’s legs and thumped into the gap be ‐tween their bod ies.
In a matter of seconds, Rutejìmo was on the edge of the bedand holding squirming children instead of his wife. Helaughed and ex haled hard and slop pi ly into Ki tòpi’s neck.
Kitòpi let out an exasperated cry and tried to wiggle away,but he was trapped in the bed. “Papa!”
Mapábyo cleared her throat. “No roughhousing. I’m notfalling out of the bed—a gain.”
“Yes, Mama,” said Ki tòpi.Piróma nodded but then jammed her finger into Kitòpi’s
side. When her broth er squ ealed, she slipped into the gap be ‐tween him and Ma pábyo.
Rutejìmo sighed happily and hugged Kitòpi tightly. “Have agood night?”
“No,” Kitòpi sighed before he turned to his father. “Why doyou have to leave this morn ing? Why can’t you stay?”
“Well,” Rutejìmo started, “we have a job to do. The clanwants me and your mother to be among the six who are goingto Ko sobyo City.”
“Beca use we need mon ey?”“That’s right.” Ru te jìmo kissed Ki tòpi on the fo re head.Ki tòpi squirmed and pulled away. “But, why you? I heard Ni ‐
fùni say ing you would slow eve ry one down.”Rutejìmo froze for a moment in the sudden wash of regret
and me mo ries. “I know, I am slow er than—”
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Pi róma i nter rupt ed him. “A ren’t you al ways the slow est?”Ru te jìmo thought for a mo ment be fore he re spo nded. “Eve ‐
ryone is good at something. I may not be the fastest runnerthere is, but do you really think anyone could keep up withChi mípu?”
“No….” whis pered Pi róma.“Mípu is really fast,” said Kitòpi excitedly, “she’s,” he swung
his hands and accidentally smacked Piróma, “whoosh andshe’s gone!”
Piróma jerked slightly at the impact and then looked at herbrother. After a moment, she returned her attention back toher moth er.
Mapábyo giggled. “Not even Desòchu can run that fast. Ifthose two are going to the valley by themselves, then the oneslowing her down would be Desòchu. We all run at differentspeeds, some faster and some slower. Part of being in the clanis that we run as fast as the slowest and we never leave anyonebe hind.”
Pi róma lift ed her head. “Then why a ren’t Hyo nèku and Ki ‐ríshi go ing?”
Ru te jìmo wag gled his fi nger. “You know they don’t like be ‐ing called by their full names.”
“Or,” added Ma pábyo, “just use grand pa pa and grand ‐mama.” She wi nked at Ru te jìmo.
“Sor ry, Ru te jìmo,” whis pered Pi róma, “I keep for get ting.”Leaning over Kitòpi, Rutejìmo kissed his daughter. “It’s
okay, lit tle one.” He didn’t cor rect her.Kitòpi squirmed and Rutejìmo bore down, pinning Kitòpi to
the bed for a few seconds with his weight before returning tothe edge.
“Papa!”“You were there, it was comfortable.” Rutejìmo made a
show of leaning on him, “I could go right back to sleep if youstopped mov ing.”
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Ki tòpi squirmed hard er.Mapábyo yawned and let out a sigh. “We should be getting
up. We have a long run a head of us.”“Yeah, yeah.” Rutejìmo stretched and crawled out of bed. He
wore a loose pair of sleeping trousers and a thin shirt. Outsideof the blankets, the cool air of the cave prickled his skin and heshiv ered.
“Papa, why do you have to leave? Why can’t you stay in theval ley?”
Rutejìmo looked back at his son. Kitòpi sat on the edge ofthe bed with Piróma next to him. They swung their feet off theedge as they stared at him.
He turned and swept them both into a tight hug. “Because itis what I need to do.”
Ki tòpi asked, “Why can’t grand pa pa and grand mama go in ‐stead? They can’t han dle mama’s mail route, can they?”
Mapábyo laughed and crawled on the bed to hug all three ofthem. “That mail route was grandpapa’s route before I wasborn. In fact, they rescued my blood parents on it, back when Iwas Ròma’s age.”
“So,” Piróma twisted in her mother’s grip, “they can handleit?”
“Between the two of them, they will speed along the roads,and no one will ever lay a finger on them. They are safer onthat route than any where else in the desert.”
“Then why a ren’t they go ing to the Ko sòbyo’s?”“Because,” Kiríshi said from the entrance of the door, “I can
barely get you four out of bed in the morning.” She grinnedand slapped the side of the arch way.
“Grand mama!”“Ki ríshi!”Both chil dren ran to the edge of the bed and jumped for Ki ‐
ríshi.
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She caught them and staggered back. “Oof! You are gettingbig.” She stood up and smiled at Ma pábyo and Ru te jìmo. “Hur ‐ry up, you two. We are hold ing break fast for you.”
“Yes, Great Shi mu sogo Ki ríshi,” Ru te jìmo said with a grin.“Yes, Mama,” added Ma pábyo.Kiríshi gave Mapábyo a mock glare before dragging both
children out of the room. “Come on, let’s get you two dressedand out in the sun. We have to say prayers to Tachìra before…”Her voice fad ed a ro und the cor ner.
Rutejìmo watched the lights from the children’s cave flashwith their movement. His thoughts turned darker as theirques tions echoed in his head.
Mapábyo came around and hugged him. “It doesn’t matterif it takes us lo nger to get there.”
“Two weeks more is a long time.” Reflexively, he wrappedhis arms a ro und her body.
“Two more weeks is noth ing when I’m with you.”“I know, but he’s right.”“And so were you. We all have different skills. You may not
be the fastest, but it was a unanimous vote to bring you alongfor a reason. You are brave, wonderful, and a good father. Noone doesn’t want you to go.”
Rutejìmo chuckled dryly. “Nearly unanimous. Nifùni voteda gainst it.”
“Shut up, Jìmo.” She continued after pulling him tight to herbody. “You never give up, no matter how much the worldgrinds you down. When anyone else would have given up, youkept on ru n ning for ward.”
He rele nted and le aned into her, rest ing his head on hers.“You are also ko ji nōmi. You see things diffe rent ly than any ‐
one else. And, we may need that out there.”“One would hope we won’t enco u nter the dead on this trip.”“I’d rather have you there and never need you to don
whites.” She lifted her head to look at him. “You run your own
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path. And I will follow you anywhere, you know that? BecauseI see you. And I will nev er stop.”
He closed his eyes and kissed her, enjoying the feel of hersoft lips a gainst his own. “I see you,” he said.
“And I,” snapped Kiríshi, “hear both of you stalling. Getdressed and out side!”
Ru te jìmo lift ed his head but didn’t look at Ma pábyo’s moth ‐er. He smiled broadly before he said, “Yes, Great ShimusogoKi ríshi.”
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Chapter 5
Halfway There
One can be told a tale endless times, but it doesn’t make it true. Experienceit once, and it will be learned for ev er.
—Desert proverb
pi n ning on one foot, Rutejìmo ducked underneath Nifùni’sstick. He didn’t move fast enough, and the wood clipped thetop of his skull. Even though they were sparring, Nifùni’s blowrang Rutejìmo’s ears. He lost his momentum and dropped to aknee, wincing as the pain shot up his leg. Desperate to avoid asecond strike, he thrust his tazágu up. The steel weapon hadno edge and only a sharp tip. It whistled through the air beforehe brought it to a halt where he expected the blow to comefrom.
No impact ran through his hand. No blow smacked him inthe back or side.
Ru te jìmo lo oked up, his eyes co ming into fo cus.Ni fùni had stepped back to bring his stick into a par ry po si ‐
tion. The younger man, in his mid-twenties, had a mask ofrage on his face. He stepped back and shook his head vi o lent ‐ly. The strands of his black hair clung to the recent wound that
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cut a line from his forehead to his cheek. Even after two weeks,the cut hadn’t ful ly healed from when the rob ber’s at tack.
From a rock a few yards away, Desòchu grunted. “What’swrong, Ni fùni?”
Step ping back, Ni fùni swung his stick hap haz ard ly at Ru te ‐jìmo be fore toss ing it aside. “No… no more. I’m not fight ing a ‐gainst any one who has a real we apon.”
Desòchu stood up from a wide rock and brushed off his o ‐range trousers. He had stripped off his shirt after they madecamp. The lines of his pec torals and abdo men were well-de ‐fined and covered in scars from years of fighting, the gray haircurled between the scars flowing with his movements. His leftarm had a scar that ran from his thumb to his shoulder, andmore lines criss crossed his stom ach, shoul ders, and neck.
He jumped off the rock, and his bare feet crunched in thesand. He strolled over to where Rutejìmo and Nifùni werespar ring. “Why not? We all need prac tice.”
Nifùni gestured angrily at Rutejìmo. “Why does he get tofight with a real weapon, and I get… I’m fighting with a stickfrom one of the sand-cursed tents! He could kill me with that…that thing!”
Desòchu shook his head. “No, you are in more da nger of get ‐ting bit by sand flies than Jìmo hurt ing you.”
Rutejìmo straightened up and wiped the sweat from hisbrow. His tazágu shook in his grip. Unlike the reds and orangesthe entire clan wore, the leather of his weapon had been dyedblack and blue by its original owner. Rutejìmo had engraved aShimusògo name along the length of the blade when he firstblooded it, but the rest of the weapon came from another clan,one that ga ined pow er from the moon in stead of the sun.
“That’s a lethal we apon!”“Yes,” said Desòchu, “but he’s also been using it for fifteen
years.”
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Nifùni snorted and gestured at Rutejìmo. His shirt clung tohis sweat-so aked chest, and he peeled it off with the move ‐ment. “And he hasn’t killed anyone in all that time. All he doesis run away whenever someone even says a strong word! He’s amoon-bleached, sand-damned coward who can barely keephis blad der un der con trol, much less swing a we apon!”
From a few rods away, the other clan members looked up.Ma pábyo knelt by the fire and stirred a small pot of food. Chi ‐mípu sat next to her while she cooked thin strips of meat withan al chem i cal flame.
The third was Byochína, the other courier attacked a fewweeks before. She only wore a white band over her breasts anda pair of orange shorts, making the fading cuts and scars alongher bare arms more visible. Her back still glistened with sweatfrom her high-speed sprint around their campsite after theystopped.
The others, except for Rutejìmo and Chimípu, were alsosweaty from their exercises after the clan stopped for the night.One by one, they took the opportunity to circle around thecampsite and run as fast as they could. Even Mapábyo, whohad paced Rutejìmo for five years, needed a half hour to let itall out.
Rutejìmo was the only one who didn’t need to run, since hespent the en tire day rac ing at his fastest and pu shing his fur ‐thest lim its.
Even though Chimípu also took her chance to run, shewasn’t exhausted or even sweaty. She could easily run tentimes Rutejìmo’s speed without breathing hard. He didn’t eventhink she knew her own lim its, and she had done feats of mag ‐ic greater than any oth er war rior of the Shi mu sògo.
Rutejìmo felt the familiar burn of jealousy and pushed itdown. He would never be a hero or legend. He turned awayand lo oked at his broth er.
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Desòchu stretched, his muscles rippling, as he stopped nextto Rutejìmo. “Well, little brother, think you still need to spar?Even if,” he shot a glance at Nifùni, “you aren’t going to actuallyhurt me?”
Breath quicke ning with the an tic i pa tion of spar ring his war ‐rior broth er, Ru te jìmo nod ded. He ad just ed his grip on his we ‐apon. There wasn’t much da nger of hurt ing Desòchu. The ta ‐zágu only had a single sharp point; otherwise, it was smoothmetal—a weapon designed for precise strokes and parrying.An ideal defensive weapon for Rutejìmo, who had never takena life and hat ed vi o lence.
Desòchu stepped for ward and at tacked. His pri ma ry we ‐apon was a long dagger but Rutejìmo had sparred against itmany times over the years, and they were both used to itslength.
Rutejìmo parried with his weapon. The impact of the blowca used his we apon to ring out.
After a brief pause, Desòchu grinned and attacked again.The strikes quickly became a steady rhythm of impacts thatshook Ru te jìmo’s arm.
Rutejìmo managed to keep up with his brother, but his bodyshook with the effort. At first, he only fell back from somestrikes, but soon he was at full retreat. Sand and rocks kickedup around them with their movements and they broke out ofthe rod-length cir cle that marked the nor mal spar ring area.
A translucent feather sailed across Rutejìmo’s face with oneof Desòchu’s attacks. The blows came faster and then suddenlybroke from the rhythm. Rutejìmo fought back a whimper as hetwisted his body to dodge as much as he parried. Sweatburned his eyes in a mat ter of sec onds. One wide sweep al ‐most caught his ankles, but Rutejìmo jumped over it androlled to the side. He came up in a fighting stance against therocks.
Desòchu didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath.
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Rutejìmo let out a cry and parried with all his might. Hemet each blow with the limits of his strength. The impacts toreup his arm and reminded him that he had spent the last eighthours running at his limit. Exhaustion tore at his body, and theair wheezed from his throat, but he kept fight ing back.
With a snarl, Desòchu’s body exploded into golden flames.The slash es be came stre aked with gold and light.
Somehow Rutejìmo managed to keep up, though hisstrength rapid ly dis si pat ed. He missed one blow and his broth ‐er’s knife scored a line along his arm. Rutejìmo screamed outand swung back, fighting against the agony of the cut thatsliced into him.
Desòchu continued to rain attacks on him, the flash of hiswe apon beco ming a burn ing blade that shat tered the rock be ‐hind Ru te jìmo and left a trail of feath ers and fire be hind.
Ru te jìmo dogged ly par ried even as more of Desòchu’s at ‐tacks got through.
And then, Desòchu’s attacks suddenly stopped. The sharppo int of Ru te jìmo’s ta zágu swung at his broth er’s bare throat.
Panic exploded inside Rutejìmo. He reversed his swing. Hismus cles screamed out in agony as he wrenched his body a ro ‐und. He felt muscles tearing and the sweat-soaked grip of hisweapon threatening to slip from his hands. He turned andslammed himself into the rock behind him. His tazágu slippedfrom his hand. He quick ly jo ined it as he slumped to the gro ‐und.
Ru te jìmo let out a sob, his body trem bling from his ex haus ‐tion and the horror of almost hurting someone flashingthrough his mind. It didn’t matter if it was his brother or astranger, the idea of taking a life brought a violent twisting inhis gut.
As the sob burst out of his throat, he slumped for ward.“And that,” Desòchu said calmly, “is why I trust him. Do you
have a prob lem with this, co uri er?”
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Rutejìmo looked up to see Desòchu glaring at Nifùni. Theuse of a la bel in stead of a name was a qu iet i nsult.
Nifùni’s face twisted into a scowl. His sweat ran along thefur rows along his brow. “He’s your broth er.”
Desòchu held up his we apon to show Ru te jìmo’s blood drip ‐ping down the length. “I don’t hold back. And nei ther does Ru ‐tejìmo.” Desòchu frowned and stepped forward. “I once madethe same mis take you make now. I took Great Shi mu sogo Ru ‐tejìmo’s reluctance to be cowardice. I told myself for years thathe was weak and help less. But you know what he did to cha ‐nge that?”
“What?” Ni fùni glance at Ru te jìmo, his eyes nar rowed in a ‐nger.
“He died. For a year, he was dead to me—”Rutejìmo’s spiritual death was for the entire clan, but he
didn’t cor rect his broth er.Desòchu took another step forward. “And then I saw what
he had become. He is stronger than I thought, than any of usthought. He carries a burden that we don’t understand and hedoes it with si lence, not vi o lence.”
Planting his hand on the rock, Rutejìmo forced himself tohis feet. When he regained his balance, he left a bloody smearon the rock. For a long mo ment, he stared at the hand-print be ‐fore step ping away from the rock and turn ing back to his broth ‐er who was still talk ing.
“And if I ever hear you call him a cow ard a gain—”“Desòchu!” snapped Chimípu, interrupting him. She stood
near the food. One hand rest ed on her own sword.Desòchu looked at her and then sighed. He stepped back
with a growl. “Just watch him, Nifùni. You’ll see it. We all do atsome po int.”
He lo oked at Ru te jìmo with a silent ques tion.Rutejìmo pressed a hand against a sharp cut on the side of
his arm and nod ded.
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Desòchu took a step and then disappeared in a burst ofwind. Dust pulled after him, creating a cloud that sucked alongthe trail of his pass ing.
Rutejìmo closed his eyes as the wind peppered his achingbody with sand and small rocks. He felt the sharp burning ofhis cuts, thankful for Desòchu’s skill at fighting. The slasheswere shallow and superficial, enough to draw blood withoutleaving serious injuries. It still hurt, and he fought against theurge to whim per.
When the wind died down, Ru te jìmo o pened his eyes. Ni ‐fùni was storming away, and Mapábyo approached with a rollof ban dages.
“I see you,” she whis pered.“I see you.”She pressed him against the rock and kissed him fiercely.
“And you,” she whispered, “are a sand-damned idiot for lettingyourself get hurt when we still have a week of running untilwe get to Ko sobyo Val ley.”
He chuck led and kissed her back, wrap ping his arms a ro ‐und her waist. “Yes, but I had to show him that I wasn’t a cow ‐ard.”
Mapábyo broke the kiss and stared into Rutejìmo’s face.“This isn’t the way to show it. You demonstrate it every day,every night. You show it when you come back from tending thedead and when you always run at your limit. Nifùni will see it,so oner or lat er.”
Rutejìmo nodded, but it wasn’t Nifùni’s accusation thatplayed in his head. It was Ki tòpi’s sin gle ques tion echo ing end ‐less ly, ask ing if he was a cow ard.
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Chapter 6
Kosobyo City
The jewel of the desert, Kosobyo City is the grandest and most civilized ofall bar bar ic lo cales.
—Kardin Gu nter man, TheSandsinSixtyMonths
u te jìmo’s only experience with larger cities was WamifukoCity, the nearest to Shimusogo Valley. The mountain city had asmell that had burned itself into Rutejìmo’s memories, a dankscent of rot and shit. He expected the same from Kosobyo City.In the weeks of ru n ning, he pa i nted an im age of their des ti na ‐tion in the back of his mind. He could see it surrounded by tallstone walls with guards every few chains. And he had nodoubt the stench would be over po we ring.
Lost in thought, he almost ran past the others when theystopped at the top of the ridge. Only when Mapábyo called tohim did he realize his mistake. To stop, he dug his feet into theground, but his soles didn’t break the rocky ground as normal.In stead, he skit tered for a mo ment be fore pitch ing for ward.
The ground rushed up to him, but then a blast of windcaught him. Strong hands, Chimípu’s and Desòchu’s, caughthim be fore he hit.
“Pay at ten tion, lit tle broth er,” chid ed Chi mípu.
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Gasping for breath, Rutejìmo managed to get back to hisfeet with only his dignity injured. He stood up and looked atthe others. “Why did we…” His voice trailed off when Nifùniges tured an gri ly for him to turn a ro und.
Mapábyo giggled and did the same, but with a smile insteadof a scowl.
Rutejìmo’s breathing grew deeper as he turned around andgot his first look at Ko sobyo City. It wasn’t any thing like he i ‐magined. There were no walls, only rows of stone houses andpaths radiating from the center of the city. His mouth openedin shock as he tried to take in the sight. It was easily leaguesacross, with neat lines of roads and al leys. Al most all the build ‐ings were built from a pale, yellow rock, but colorful muralsacross the front were visible even from this distance. The roofswere a flur ry of reds, yel lows, and greens.
In the center of the city, the buildings reached higher thanRu te jìmo had ever seen. The tallest lo oked to be over ten sto ‐ries, judging from the banks of windows. It was easily doublethe highest building in Wamifuko City. The murals continuedeven up the larger buildings with the Kosòbyo colors—goldand green and white—pre do mi nate ly vis i ble.
Rutejìmo gulped and looked back at the rest of his clan. Hedidn’t know what to say, and the sen sa tion of be ing over ‐whelmed loomed close. To his surprise, almost everyonestared at the city in the same shock.
“It’s beau ti ful,” whis pered Ma pábyo.“It’s huge,” said Nifùni with a growl. He gestured down to
where the buildings broke up into larger estates and farms.“There are no guards, no gates. How can they protect a placethis large?”
“How,” said Ma pábyo in a stu nned voice, “do we find the Ko ‐sòbyo in there?”
Desòchu grunted and pointed to the tall buildings. “Followthe colors and the taller buildings. The best bet is to find some
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rooms for the night first. And then use the last few hours of theday to find out where to go.”
After a moment, everyone nodded with agreement. Therewere looks of tre pi da tion and fear.
Ru te jìmo felt the same in side his own heart. He turned fur ‐ther away from the city to ease the discomfort building insidehim. It was too large and too neat for his tastes.
He scanned the horizon, but when he saw two wisps ofsmoke, he froze. One was white and the oth er yel low. In a per ‐fect world, the colors would be white and gold, the colors ofdeath, but the familiar spiral of colors told volumes. Someonewas dy ing and they ne eded help.
He glanced down at his feet and held his breath. He calmedhis thoughts and watched the dust that rolled between his feet.It clung to his bare feet and traced the ridges of his hardenedtoes.
Another breeze rolled around his thighs, adding more dustand rocks to the sun-baked rock. The wind stopped suddenlyand the dust set tled.
Rutejìmo stared at the familiar pattern. The desert neededhim to an swer. He lo oked back up, fo cus ing on the rapid ly dis ‐sipating smoke. With a sigh, he knelt and swung his pack fromhis shoulder. Sweat dripped down his face as he dug into thebag and pulled out a set of white clothes.
“Jìmo?” Chi mípu said next to him.“I’m ne eded.” He ges tured with his chin to ward the smoke.Mapábyo gasped and spun around. He watched her scan
the hori zon, saw her shoul ders slump when she stopped. Slow ‐ly, she turned a ro und with a hurt look. “Do you have to?”
He stripped off his shirt to an swer, the si lence al ready dra ‐ping over his thoughts. Even as he tugged the rough white fab ‐ric over his head, he felt her sadness and it echoed in his ownheart.
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“Pábyo?” Desòchu said as he came around. Rutejìmo knewthat he wouldn’t be looking at his brother. “If you need to gosome where, we’ll leave a mes sage at the board by that well.”
Rutejìmo glanced at where Desòchu pointed. It was one ofthe closest fountains, and there was always a message boardnear them. Desòchu’s directions were not for Mapábyo, but totell Rutejìmo where to go. When Rutejìmo donned white, theycouldn’t see him, and he couldn’t re spond, but they could com ‐mu ni cate in oth er ways.
Mapábyo, tears in her eyes, shook her head. She turned toface Desòchu di rect ly. “No, I’ll come with you.”
As one, the rest of his clan turned their backs on Rutejìmo.Without looking at him, the others turned and raced into thecity.
He finished dressing and stood up. He reached down andpicked up his pack; he had started taking a bag with him whenhe te nded the dead while away from a city. The hilt of his we ‐apon stuck out of one side.
The rest of the Shimusògo had already disappeared into thecrowds funneling into the streets, but he could still see a fewclouds of dust mark ing their path.
With a heavy heart, he turned away from the city and ranfor the smoke.
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Chapter 7
Broken Silence
No one knows what orga nizes the ko ji nōmi, only that one is there when so ‐me one dies.
—WhispersoftheDesert (Act 2)
he steady drum of Rutejìmo’s feet against the solid groundwas almost peaceful. He chased Shimusògo as he always did,the dépa sprinted a few rods in front of him no matter howfast he pushed himself. Rutejìmo didn’t feel an urgency torace, only a need to ap proach the smoke, so he ran at a com fort ‐able pace that would carry him just under thirty miles in anhour.
His feet always struck solid ground. One of the powers ofthe Shimusògo clan solidified shifting sands and rolling rocksbefore his foot came down. As soon as he ran past, it crumbledback into sand in time for the wind of Rutejìmo’s passing torip it from the ground and send it flying in the air. Even at hisrelatively sluggish speed, the plume of sand and duststretched a mile back on a still day.
Alone, he could lose himself in the euphoria of running.The power of Shimusògo was a pulse of pleasure and at thesame time an ache, while running for hours at a time. But, for
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Rutejìmo, it was always a struggle. And as his run stretchedinto an hour, his thoughts turned i nward.
As much as he couldn’t ad mit it in front of the oth er Shi mu ‐sògo, Ru te jìmo was thank ful for be ing pulled away from Ko ‐sobyo City. Even his brief view of the city disturbed him. Citiesneeded walls for protection, not wide open rows of endlessbuildings. He couldn’t imagine how the Kosòbyo protectedtheir homes with so many exposed entrances. The only thinghe could imagine was that no one would ever risk destructionby going against one of the most powerful clans in the desert.The Ko sòbyo were known for their grudges.
Giv en the size of the pow er ful clan, Ru te jìmo hadn’t ex pect ‐ed a call from the desert. There were other kojinōmi. No doubtthere were at least a few in the Ko sòbyo.
Even though he had only met one other kojinōmi in fiveyears, the Book of Ash indicated they gravitated to places theywere needed. In a city as large as Kosobyo City, there had to bethose who needed someone to hold their hand while they diedor to tend to the bodies after it happened. Why had the desertcalled on him so far from home?
Lost in thought, he blasted past a figure without realizing it,only catching a flash of white in the corner of his eye. With agasp, Rutejìmo dug his feet into the ground. His sole cutthrough the solid rock, and he decelerated rapidly. Jumping tothe side, he shot out in a wide circle to come around and chaseaft er the fig ure walk ing away.
He reached the figure quickly, and he jammed his feet backinto the ground to stop. His passing left a deep furrow in thegro und, the im pact of rock shat te ring un der neath his feet noth ‐ing more than a tug and scrape a gainst his hard ened soles.
Rutejìmo remained crouched on the ground and held hisbreath. The wind that fol lowed him blew over his body, peppe ‐ring his back with rocks and sand. It slowed in a choking cloud
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before raining down. Moments later, he stood in a teardrop-shape of up turned sand and rocks.
It was a young man with pale brown skin and no hair. Hedrank from a skin when Rutejìmo stopped and he turned withthe skin still held in his hand. He wore a white tunic andtrousers. The rough fabric was almost identical to Rutejìmo’sout fit.
The yo ung man lo oked sur prised. “Ko ji nōmi?”Rutejìmo nodded and then stepped back in surprise. For
five years, Rutejìmo had remained nearly silent when he tookon the man tle of white. When he raised his voice, he was be ‐aten until he learned not to make a noise. But the stranger hadspo ken at full vol ume, as if they were talk ing in a room to geth ‐er.
A frown crossed the other man’s face. “I haven’t seen yoube fore.”
Ru te jìmo shook his head.“Can’t talk?”Rutejìmo shook his head again, unwilling to break his own
si lence de spite the ko ji nōmi spe a king to him.The other man turned and headed toward Rutejìmo. The
frown deepened for a moment, then he stopped with a scoff.“You are one of those provincial types, aren’t you? Live out inthe desert some where near Ta chìra’s ass hole?”
Un com fort able, Ru te jìmo didn’t re spond.“Well, you can ignore that smoke,” the young man gestured
to ward Ru te jìmo’s des ti na tion.Rutejìmo glanced over his shoulder at the dual columns of
colored smoke rising. They were close, less than a mile, but theko ji nōmi was walk ing in the wrong di rec tion.
“No one to save, just a bunch of Chobìre scum. And even therest of them won’t be needing help in a few hours. As soon asthe moon sets, they won’t last sec onds.”
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Chobìre was the name of the moon spirit and Tachìra’s rival.Legend had it that the two spirits fought for the affections ofMifúno, the desert, but neither ever took her hand. Instead, theclans who gained their power from the moon and sun foughtjust as the spir its did—but the mor tals’ bat tles fre qu ent ly e ‐nded in blood and death.
Rutejìmo stroked the hilt of his tazágu. Unlike the rest ofthe Shi mu sògo who wore o range and red, his we apon was dec ‐orated in black and blue, the colors of a night clan. A womanin his past had given it to him before she disappeared into thenight with one of Ru te jìmo’s for mer clan mates.
“Don’t both er, ko ji nōmi. Your sand-blast ed, sun-burned tra ‐di tions won’t help you here. You prob a bly still do the pu ri fi ca ‐tion rituals. Walking naked across the desert?” At Rutejìmo’shesi tant nod, the yo ung man scoffed. “Those ways are dead, Mi ‐fúno hasn’t a ba n doned any of us when we gave up those rites.”
A prick le of dis com fort ran along Ru te jìmo’s body. The ca ‐sual words were noth ing like the rit u als in the Book of Ash. Hecould still remember the old woman who gave him the book,right before she stripped naked and headed out on her ownpurification. He never saw the wild-haired woman again, buther silent lessons had car ried him for half a decade.
The kojinōmi scoffed again. “Go on, waste your time. Maybeyou’ll end up dead like those night scum.” He turned, drainedhis skin, and he aded back to ward Ko sobyo City.
Ru te jìmo didn’t need to look at his feet to feel the wind blo ‐wing around his toes. If the young kojinōmi’s words were anyindication, he knew why Mifúno called Rutejìmo and not theothers. Despite following a clan of the sun, Rutejìmo servedeveryone who needed it, night or day. He was never given achoice, nor wanted one. If it wasn’t for the clans of both sides,he would have died in the desert years ago.
Turn ing on his heels, he raced away from the oth er ko ji ‐nōmi.
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Less than ten min utes lat er, he came up to a crowd of war ‐riors circling around a gray and green wagon. The wagon stoodin the middle of an empty space about a chain across. Outside,forming a ring, were at least three different clans wearingbright colors. A horse clan whooping and circling made up theouter ring. They all had short wooden bows in their hands, andtheir hors es wa vered like heat, slip ping be tween the oth ers eas ‐i ly de spite the large bulk.
The other two clans were foot warriors. One carried a curvedsword and the other appeared to favor a wide-bladed spear.Most of their weapons were out and brandished, but theymade no eff ort to ap proach clos er to the wag on.
As he walked, Rutejìmo focused on the painted wagon. Theclan name, Nyobichóhi, was clearly painted on the side buttwo of the letters were speared with red-feathered arrows.There was also a smear of red along the wood. Ripples of greencircled the wagon, moving like a cloud of noxious fumes thatmoved a gainst the bre eze that blew the sand.
Rutejìmo lifted his head to confirm that Chobìre was still inthe sky. He was, but the moon was only a pale disk of whitepartially obscured by the horizon. In less than an hour, itwould be out of sight and the clan in the wagon would lose allof their pow ers.
He didn’t need the wind blowing against his back to knowhe was needed. He let out his breath and started toward thecrowds. He focused his eyes on the ground and trusted that hewould walk straight. It was how he approached a crowd whilewe a ring white.
The noise of horses and talking grew louder as he coveredthe last few chains to the edge of the crowd. People steppedaway from him, creating a path through the din. He knew thatmost of the war riors were aware of him, poised in case he sim ‐ply pre te nded to be a ko ji nōmi. If he drew a we apon or be ‐came a threat, they would cut him down before he took a
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breath. But, as long as he remained silent and unobtrusive,they would ig nore him.
The crowds continued to peel away from him. He walkedslowly and steadily while being careful to keep his hand awayfrom his we apon.
Conversations quieted but didn’t die away. He could hearthe whispers and murmurs as he passed. The muscles in hisback tightened as he continued through the crowd ofstrangers, wondering if there were other differences with theclans in the north ern desert.
When he saw feet blocking his path, he almost slammedinto someone. With a soft gasp, he froze and stared down atthe ground. He couldn’t interact with the living, the warriors,but nor mal ly they stepped out of the way.
The man blocking Rutejìmo spoke. “Where do you thinkyou’re go ing?”
Ru te jìmo tensed. It so u nded like the man was talk ing di rect ‐ly to Rutejìmo. Rutejìmo wanted to look up and confirm it, buthe couldn’t. That would require him to interact with the manin front of him.
“Hey, Tsupòbi,” called one of the warriors to the side, “whoare you talk ing to?”
Tsupòbi snorted. “No one. Just a stupid ghost without thesense to get out of the sun.”
Laugh ter rip pled a ro und Tsu pòbi and Ru te jìmo.Ru te jìmo stepped to the side.Tsu pòbi’s blue and gold boots moved to block Ru te jìmo.More laugh ter a ro und him.“No, there a ren’t any ghosts ne eded here,” said Tsu pòbi.The wind rolled over Rutejìmo’s feet, kicking up more sand.
Stream ‐ers of grains rolled around Tsupòbi’s feet as it headed towardthe wagon. Rutejìmo felt a sparkling sensation pouring downhis spine before it spread out through his body. The pressure to
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approach the wagon increased and he knew that someone wasa bout to die.
The world seemed to fade away until there was nothing butRutejìmo and the wind. He watched the familiar patterns rollacross the sand.
“Go away, ghost.”And then Ru te jìmo could sense Tsu pòbi. The man was be ‐
fore him, vis i ble in Ru te jìmo’s mind as clear ly as if he had lo ‐oked up. He saw a middle-aged man with a shaggy beard andbroad shoulders. He wielded a curved scimitar and had a shortknife on his back.
Ru te jìmo’s heart be gan to beat faster. He was se e ing some ‐thing he had nev er seen be fore.
As if to respond, his toes and soles tingled. Before he couldinhale, the sensation crawled up his legs and spine, spreadingout across his skin. Whispers tickled his senses, the inaudiblewords of the desert just out side of his com pre hen sion.
The wind increased behind Rutejìmo, and it buffeted hisback. He watched as it swirled a ro und him, paint ing more pat ‐terns around his feet but not around the warrior blocking him.The sand didn’t touch or even bounce off of Tsupòbi, as if theman didn’t ex ist any more.
Rutejìmo tried to push his senses out. To his surprise, hecould sense the others. They were lifting their hands or turningtheir backs against the wind that peppered them. Rutejìmocould feel how the sand bounced on their faces and arms, howit lodged into the folds of their fabric. There were no patternsof death, but they still re spo nded to the desert.
A flash of in sight slammed into Ru te jìmo. The desert no lo ‐nger ac knowl edged Tsu pòbi ex ist ed.
Ru te jìmo lift ed his gaze. He took in each part of the man be ‐fore him, from the sword on his side and the clan name proud ‐ly dis played along his belt and clothes.
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As he dragged his gaze up, the wind rose to a howl. Itswirled around Rutejìmo, depositing sand against his face andskin. It stuck to the sweat that glistened on his dark skin andclung to his hair. He could feel more of it shifting into hisclothes and lodg ing a gainst the sen si tive parts of his flesh.
The man before him remained untouched by the sand andwind.
Rutejìmo finally brought his stare directly into Tsupòbi’seyes. He had never stared at anyone in public before, and thevery act terrified Rutejìmo. He waited to be cut down but noblows came.
Tsupòbi stepped back and raised his weapon. Sweatsparkled on the warrior’s brow when his face twisted into amask of rage. The killing edge of the sword glowed with an i ‐nner light. It wasn’t flame, but it wavered in the air around thewar rior and sparkled along the name en graved along the met ‐al.
A thousand options flashed through Rutejìmo’s head as hestared at the glowing weapon. He could pull his own weaponand par ry—he was good e nough to sur vive at least a few sec ‐onds, but then the other warriors would easily overpower him.He could dodge out of the way, ei ther to run or to charge for ‐ward.
And then an option he had never considered: he couldspeak. Right before he had become a kojinōmi, he learned thatthe dead never spoke to the living. It was beaten into him andhe almost lost his life when he broke the silence. Now, afterfive years, he had forgotten that it was even a possibility. As heconsidered it, he felt a tingling boil up inside him, driving himto re act and re spond.
The warrior’s blade came down in a high, overhead blow. Itleft a streak of gold en fire be hind it.
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Rutejìmo opened his mouth and the wind died instantly,plunging the world into silence. In the brutal quiet, his wordscar ried clear ly across the crowds. “You are dead to her.”
Tsupòbi tried to abort his swing, but the glowing bladecame down. It caught Rutejìmo’s shoulder, slicing throughskin be fore bounc ing off the bone. The war rior dropped his we ‐apon and the blade cut another deep gouge out of Rutejìmo’sflesh be fore falling to the gro und.
Pa in ripped through Ru te jìmo’s sens es and it took all his ef ‐fort not to cry out from the agony.
Tsupòbi panted frantically and his face was pale. “Y-Youcan’t speak! You a ren’t al lowed to!”
Rutejìmo said nothing. Hot blood rolled down his chest andback, so a king through the sand be fore slo wing.
Turning to the surrounding warriors, the man cried out. “Hecan’t talk! He can’t say that!” There was desperation and fear inhis voice, the same feel ing echoed in Ru te jìmo’s heart.
Rutejìmo turned and followed Tsupòbi’s gaze. As he did, hesaw the flashes of fear in the surrounding warriors before theyquick ly lo oked away. A strange feel ing filled Ru te jìmo as he cir ‐cled around, watching as the warriors were the ones to lookaway from him.
When he came around again, Rutejìmo found that the onlyone willing to look into his face was the man who tried toblock him. Tsupòbi stood shaking in front of Rutejìmo, hishand cle n ching emp ty air.
“Y-You can’t talk,” he said in a bro ken whis per.Rutejìmo took a deep breath and spoke the words he finally
heard in the silence. “She will never welcome you into herarms, and you will die alone and forgotten.” The words camerushing out, half formed by the whispers in his head but hefilled in the gaps. “There is no clan under sun and moon thatwill ever wel come you a gain. You are—”
“No!” The war rior stag gered back. “No, you a ren’t al lowed—”
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“—dead to Mifúno forevermore.” The final words burst outof Rutejìmo’s mouth. He felt power rush out of him, leavinghim drained and sha king.
In the si lence, no one moved.Tsu pòbi lo oked a ro und. “Please? So me one?”Rutejìmo followed his gaze again, his thoughts dull from
the sudden emptiness inside him. He felt as if he had run forten hours solid, but the exhaustion came from only a fewwords that had bro ken a man.
Only a few feet away, the nearest warrior turned around sohis back was facing Rutejìmo and the dead man. Rutejìmo sawsweat pouring down Tsupòbi’s face and fear in his eyes. Theoth er war riors jo ined suit, turn ing away in a wave of move ‐ment that rip pled through all the war riors.
The world spun a ro und Ru te jìmo as he watched their re spo ‐nse. He had nev er had any force speak through him. The over ‐whelming sense of power quickly faded but it left behind onlyter ror that he had done some thing for bid den.
As he stood there, the rest of the bystanders turned theirbacks on them. Even the horses turned away. In a moment, noone looked at Tsupòbi, the former warrior who had just beencast from so ci ety.
The rush turned to sad ness as Ru te jìmo re gard ed the for ‐mer clan member. When Rutejìmo was declared dead, it wasonly for a year. But for the man before him it would be for therest of his life. No clan, night or day, would talk to him. Hecouldn’t find shelter at any oasis or in the cities. The news ofhis spiritual death would travel faster than he could, and soonhe would be alone and abandoned. Just like Rutejìmo was fiveyears ago, but for the rest of his life.
“W-What do I do?” Tsupòbi dropped to his knees, his voicecrack ing. “What?”
Rutejìmo stepped forward and the warrior flinched. With asigh, Rutejìmo rested one hand on his shoulder. “Be silent,”
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Ru te jìmo whis pered, “and learn to watch. Find a city and re ‐main there. There is no more salvation in the desert for you.No oasis will shelter you. As long as you are dead to the sands,none of the liv ing can look at you. If you force them to ac ‐knowl edge your pre sence, they will kill you.”
“I have nowhere to go.”“The city. There are other banyosiōu there. They will help
you, if you help them.”Rutejìmo had received no such help when his tribe had cast
him away. He spoke from experience, and he couldn’t help butremember almost dying of dehydration in the middle of thedesert as he chased aft er Ma pábyo.
Tears ran down the man’s face. He shook his head. “I-Ican’t.”
“Then you will truly die.” Rutejìmo let his hands slide off thesha king man’s shoul der and stepped past him.
This time, no one stopped him as he crossed the distance tothe lone wagon. The noxious cloud dissipated in front of him,blown away by a bre eze that rolled past him. As he ap ‐proached the back, the door cracked open and an olderwoman peeked out from the crack. Her one visible green eyewi dened and she o pened the door.
At the sight of her surprised face, Rutejìmo glanced over hisshoulder. The surrounding warriors were walking and ridingaway. All the a nger and ha tred of the mob had fad ed with Ru ‐te jìmo’s words.
The old woman hesitated for a moment before opening thedoor to let him in. He walked up the wo oden steps and in side.
The travel wagon could have comfortably fit seven; instead,a dozen crowded within. The stench of blood and death filledthe cramped quar ters.
Rutejìmo ignored everyone but a young girl on the floor. Apool of blood surrounded her as she clutched her stomach.Blood oozed from a sword cut that sliced her from her right hip
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to the bottom of her ribs of her left side. Coils of her intestinesbulged around her fingers, and one loop was caught on herthumb.
She looked up at him with glistening eyes. “I-I’m scared.”Her voice was a bro ken whis per.
The rest of the wagon emptied as Rutejìmo knelt in theblood and drew her close. Her skin was cold, and her bloodcolder. He rested his cheek against hers. He said nothing, henev er ne eded to.
“Can y-you help me?” she whimpered and dug her fingersinto her stomach. “I-It hurts. It hurts so much and it won’tstop. All I did was try to greet him… and… and then he cutme.”
Rutejìmo rested one hand on her stomach, not to hold herinsides in but to cradle her hand. In her shimmering eyes, hesaw his re flec tion. His eyes had turned gold and white, the col ‐or of death. He shud dered and closed them, rest ing his chin a ‐gainst her fo re head.
He didn’t have to say any thing.A moment later, she began to whisper. The words weren’t
important to him, but they were to her. She apologized to himfor stealing her brother’s dagger and praying to be born intoone of the sun clans. She told him of her dreams and fantasies,the places she wanted to go. She let go of the things holdingher to the world, the weight heaped on her young shoulders.Between the tears, she spoke until her voice faded in a chokinggasp.
Mo ments lat er, she died in his arms.When Rutejìmo looked up with tears in his own eyes, a
stack of perfumed wood sat inside the wagon, along withsome small trinkets of gold and white, gifts for the kojinōmiwho would guide the fall en girl’s soul to Mi fúno’s breast.
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Chapter 8
Alone
The books of Ash are eclectic collections of barbaric rituals and deathrecords passed for cen tu ries a mong the desert clans. While ini tial ly de ‐stroyed by more reasonable folks, they quickly became a tool for measuringthe slow pro gres sion of civ i liza tion a mong the bar ba ri ans.
—Ba ndor Tu rin, WordsoftheDead
he lit tle girl’s co nfes sions echoed in Ru te jìmo’s head in a qu ‐iet sym pho ny as he wrote in his book. The hand-bound col lec ‐tions of pages creaked under his hand, the leather thongstrained to hold the al most fifty pages of tight ly-spaced writ ‐ing. Over the years, he had added a dozen pages to the col lec ‐tion. It wouldn’t be too long before the binding couldn’t handlethe additional pages, but he thought he had a few more yearsleft be fore that hap pened.
Even with his additional pages, he didn’t have room to writedown any of the sto ries he had heard over the years. He wa ‐nted to detail the joys of the little girl’s death, such as thechoked story about how she had stolen her brother’s toy whenhe wasn’t looking. He had also wanted to write the horrors, likeone man’s co nfes sion for killing his sis ter. Each one was pre ci ‐
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ous and important. Time would erase their stories and a partof Ru te jìmo died every time he for got one.
He could barely see the page underneath his hand. The dimlight of the coming dawn provided only enough illuminationto identify that he was writing on the page and his letteringdidn’t over lap with the line above it. One sin gle line to co n de ‐nse a little girl’s life to a simple phrase wasn’t enough. Afterthe name of her clan and how she died, there wasn’t much leftto de scribe her.
Rutejìmo wanted to write more. Years ago, he tried to, butthere were simply too many stories to document. He ran out ofpa per and time long be fore the tales ran out.
Realizing his thoughts had become dark, he pried his mindaway from the lost stories. But before he could find a happymemory, an image welled up of the young kojinōmi he hadmet from the day be fore.
Rutejìmo never learned his name or clan, but the youngman had shown him a different aspect of the kojinōmi thatRutejìmo didn’t know was possible. The revelations of hiswords and behavior felt profoundly uncomfortable. The ideathat he, or any kojinōmi, could choose not to care for the dyingwent against everything he understood. Death struck everyoneand the re fore Ru te jìmo, as a ko ji nōmi, should tend to eve ry ‐one.
There were other disturbing things that the brief encounterre vealed. For five years, he had faith ful ly per formed the pu ri fi ‐cation ritual even though it was the most exhausting part ofhis duties. The day of walking naked in the sun had left himburned completely and aching from his feet to his head. Hehated it, but it was part of being a kojinōmi, or at least hethought it was.
Rutejìmo sighed and paged through the book with his smallfingers, peering at the barely visible lines in hopes of havingsome answer. He knew he wouldn’t find it from the book any
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more than he could ask the desert directly. It didn’t stop himfrom lo o king.
A flicker of light caught his attention, halting his darkthoughts. He lifted his head to look toward the remains of thebonfire. Over the night, it had burned to the ground leavingnothing but a circle of black ash and a few cracked fragmentsof bone. Near the ce nter, he spot ted part of the girl’s hip stick ‐ing up. A single spark lit on the tip of the shattered remains ofa thigh bone.
His breath halt ed in his chest as he stared at it.It start ed to dim.A brief wind gave the spark life once again and it wavered
in the rip ples of heat.Ru te jìmo had seen the same thing many times. He felt it a ro ‐
und him, a pres sure gathe ring as if the desert it self was wait ‐ing for the last of the girl’s spir it to fade away.
The em ber fad ed a gain and dark ness crowd ed close.He kept himself still, feeling there was a mote of the girl’s
spir it re ma i ning.A breeze wafted over the sand, kicking up swirls of dark ash
in a spi ral that quick ly fad ed.The spark flared for the briefest moment, a tiny burst of life,
be fore it was swal lowed by the dark.The tension around him snapped, and he felt his lungs
work again. Wiping a tear from his eye, he bowed deeply to theash and silently mouthed a prayer to Mifúno, the desert spiritand the mother of all spirits. When he finished, he set his bookinto his bag. Then, he stood up, his back to the ash, andstripped.
It only took a minute to remove and fold his clothes. He setthem down by his bag. When he turned back around, the circleof ash and the girl’s bones were gone. There was nothing tomark the place of her burn ing, oth er than the me mo ries record ‐ed in Ru te jìmo’s head and the notes in his book.
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The desert worked silently and subtly. He never saw thesands swallow the ash, but the signs of the flames were alwaysgone when he lo oked back. Not as vis cer al as the pow er Shi mu ‐sògo gave him, it always left Rutejìmo in awe of the desert’spow er.
He bowed a gain, tha n king Mi fúno by mouthing the words.There was no re spo nse from the wind.He turned back around and picked up his bags. The white
clothes had disappeared when he wasn’t looking. He had seenit a hundred times now, but like the ash, it left him stunnedthat things could cha nge so quick ly when his back was turned.
Then, naked as the day he was born and carrying his bag, hestart ed to walk to ward the sun just as it pe eked over the hori ‐zon. He had no destination or goal, only to walk toward thelight. The only time Ru te jìmo would stop would be when Ta ‐chìra held right above him for the few sec onds of per fect har ‐mony and then he would turn around and follow it backacross the desert.
Despite what the other kojinōmi said, Rutejìmo felt he mustdo the rit u al, no mat ter what.
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Chapter 9
Greatness
There is no greater hon or than culling the mind less herds that walk in Ta ‐chìra’s light.
—Chi tori Ba sa mìto, QueenoftheSouth
ours of walk ing sapped Ru te jìmo’s strength. He was ex ‐hausted, dehydrated, and starving. Every time he picked up hisfoot, it left a bloody footprint on the sand, and his leg shook.He had sliced open his foot just after noon, but he couldn’tstop un til the sun set be low the hori zon.
Only a few minutes remained before the sun disappeared.He could feel Ta chìra’s pow er fla ring and the de spair of kno ‐wing his magic, like most of the day clan’s, would fade away inan in stant. He wouldn’t even have a few sec onds of Shi mu ‐sògo’s power to speed his way across the sand. No, when hefin ished his rit u al, the only thing left was to keep walk ing.
When the sun fi nal ly set, the last rem nants of his en er gy fad ‐ed, and he stumbled. He held out his hands for balance andmanaged to avoid plummeting to the ground. Groaning, thefirst sound he made since he started, he caught himself andstraight ened up. His foot throbbed but he shoved it into the he ‐ated sand and forced him self to take an oth er step.
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He walked less than a chain be fore stop ping. Kneel ing heav i ‐ly on the sand, he pulled out his non-white clothes. The brightreds and o ranges of Shi mu sògo were near ly in vis i ble in the fad ‐ing light.
“I thought all the old ways had died.”Rutejìmo jumped and bit back a scream. He looked around,
but couldn’t find the man who spoke.A chuckle came from his right and Rutejìmo glanced in the
direction of the sound. His eye caught a flicker of movementand a line of sparkling blue light. He attempted to clear histhroat, which had long since sealed shut from dehydration.Only a rasp es caped his cracked lips.
The line spread out, as if a paper-thin man had turned tothe side, u nfold ing into view and swelling out into three di ‐mensions. Seconds later, the stranger gained the look of a solidfig ure in stead of a shift ing paint ing.
He appeared to be in his fifties, with two quivers of arrowsat his side and a heavy bow over his shoulder. His clothes weredark green and black, colors of the night, and his weaponsmatched both in style and col oration.
“Ah,” the man bowed. His white beard had been neat ly bra ‐ided down his chest, and the tip of it brushed the gro und. “For ‐give me, I was looking for someone and didn’t want to beseen.”
The man pulled out a flask and ha nded it to Ru te jìmo.Ru te jìmo took it gra teful ly and sipped, afraid it was al co ‐
holic. When he only tasted metallic water, he took a long gulpand sighed with pleasure as the ache in his throat faded. Aftera few sec onds, he drank an oth er gulp and then ha nded it back.
“No, please, fin ish when you can.”Still kneeling, Rutejìmo bowed. “Thank you. I’m Rutejìmo,
and I speak for Shimusògo.” It was the traditional greeting inthe desert, though rarely did conversations between the nightand day clans start peace ful ly.
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The old man jerked and his eyes wi dened. “I am… sur ‐prised.” He shook his head and then bowed. “Forgive me. I amFidochìma, and I speak for Foteramàsu. I ask for forgiveness innot in tro duc ing my self. I was not ex pect ing to ex cha nge ci vil i ‐ties.”
Rutejìmo smiled, remembering Mikáryo, who he had oncelusted after despite her dark clan. “A woman I once knew toldme that, in the desert, there are some things not worth fightingfor.” He grinned. “Well, that wasn’t exactly what she said, but itwas a long time ago.”
Fidochìma nodded. “She is a wise woman, though not withpop u lar be liefs.”
Ru te jìmo shrugged.The older man stroked his beard. “And where are you going,
Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo? To Ko sobyo City?”“Yes, Great Fo te ra masu Fido… chì ma.”Fidochìma chuckled. “It is a mouthful, isn’t it? Would you be
willing to call me simply Fidochìma? There is no greatness outhere ei ther.”
Ru te jìmo bowed. “A wise man, though not with pop u lar be ‐liefs,” he said mim ic k ing Fi do chì ma’s tone.
For a long mo ment, both men lo oked at each oth er. Then Fi ‐do chì ma burst into laugh ter. “I can see why you are com fort ‐able with the dark. If you don’t mind, Ru te jìmo, I would be ho ‐nored to es cort you to the city… or as close as my kind is enco ‐u raged to vis it.”
“I would be ho nored.”“Though, it may be a more enjoyable walk if you were to put
some clothes on.”Ru te jìmo ducked his head to hide his smile. “Good idea.”He pulled his shirt over his head and yanked it into place.
When he managed to clear his head, Fidochìma had dropped abundle of white clothes on the ground next to him. Theywould be pris tine and u nworn, a gift to the ko ji nōmi.
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Without hesitation, Rutejìmo stood up, finished dressing,and packed the white clothes in his bag. He had learned not toask why people knew that he needed them or where they camefrom. Like every thing else with the dead, it was not spo ken a ‐bout. Only per formed in si lence and with out fa nfare.
Ru te jìmo gro aned as he stood up. To his sur prise, Fi do chì ‐ma came up and slipped an arm around his waist to hold hisbal ance. Ru te jìmo lo oked at him.
The old man gave him a sly smile. “In the desert….”Ru te jìmo smiled and let the old er man guide him.They walked in silence for over a half hour. Fidochìma
smelled of smoke and ozone. His out fit was crisp and sharp, al ‐most like the thinness of his appearance. But, with one armover his shoul ders, Ru te jìmo could feel none of the two-di ‐men si onal appe a rance.
Finally, Rutejìmo broke the silence. “Who were you lookingfor?”
“A man,” came the curt re ply.A brief breeze tickled Rutejìmo’s face. An image flashed
through his mind, of the war rior who stood in his way, Tsu ‐pòbi. The memory was startling clear, and Rutejìmo paled withthe i n ten si ty of de tails that slammed into him.
Fi do chì ma hesi tat ed. He le aned over and pe ered into Ru te ‐jìmo’s face. “Do you know which man I’m hunt ing?”
Rutejìmo picked his words carefully. “No, but I know of aman who one may wish to hunt.”
“The man I’m hunting,” Fidochìma’s voice grew tense,“killed so me one dear to me. A grand daugh ter of a daugh ter.”
The image of the girl bubbled up and faded. The image ofTsupòbi came back, this time of the haunted look on his faceand the horror as he tried to realize what had happened. Thememory scared Rutejìmo even though he had spent an entireday thi n king a bout it. He didn’t know he was ca pa ble of de cla ‐
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ring someone dead to the desert, but Mifúno had somehowbacked his procla ma tion.
“He deserves the same,” Fidochìma said, his eyes sparklingin the dim light.
Rutejìmo closed his eyes and shook his head. “That man isal ready dead.”
“How?”Rutejìmo said nothing. He didn’t want to think about it if he
could, nor did he ever want to say those words again. Even ifhe did, he didn’t talk a bout the dead.
“Please, Rutejìmo, I need to know. There are very few of usin the shadow of Kosòbyo and even one death risks everythingfor us.” Fidochìma pulled away and turned Rutejìmo. “How didthis man die?”
Un able to say the words, Ru te jìmo lo oked help less ly at him.Fidochìma stepped back, his face glistening with tears. “I
thought… I thought you were a fri end of the night.”“I am,” whis pered Ru te jìmo.“Why can’t you—” Fidochìma waved to the darkness around
them “—tell me? Out here where no one is liste ning?”“Beca use she is liste ning.”“She is dead!”“No,” Rutejìmo said carefully, “not your granddaughter of a
daughter. She is in Mifúno’s arms. And, I can’t explain why thisman is dead and why there is no re ason for reve nge, but I pro ‐mise you, on… on…” He couldn’t promise on Mifúno’s name.He didn’t have the right. “I swear, that man is dead.”
Fidochìma shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t acceptthat.”
“I can’t stop you, Great Foteramasu Fidochìma, but I wish Icould.” Ru te jìmo re turned the flask with a bow.
The older man retrieved it and then bowed curtly in return.He gripped his bow and turned to the side. His body flattened
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until there was nothing but a line in the darkness. And theneven that fad ed.
“No, Rutejìmo,” came his fading voice, “there is no greatnessin the desert. Not for the night.”
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Chapter 10
Westerners
“And what do you ask of me?” asked Tachìra of Kosòbyo. The featheredsnake lifted himself as the blood dripped down his side. “Only to stand byyour side and fight un til the end of days.” Ta chìra bowed to his great est war ‐rior. “Then you will be the first.”
—Ko sobyo Mi táki, LegendofKosòbyo
u te jìmo walked alone in the dark.His destination glowed before him, a swelling of light and
flame that brightened the horizon as if it was day. He couldhear the din of people from Kosobyo City, even from across thesands.
The sheer expanse of Kosobyo City terrified him. Too large,too bright, and too alive, it didn’t resemble anything he hadseen during the day, and to have the entire city lit up at nightwas more than he could imagine. The wealth of the city wasevident, even miles away. The road he followed had beenpaved in wide stones. They didn’t shift under his feet, and theedges had long since been polished by countless feet andwheels.
He passed a small, fortified building made of the samestone as the road. Three guards sat on stools outside the door.
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All of them wore red and gold with a clan name that Rutejìmodidn’t recognize, but the building had Kosòbyo’s colors andname en graved on the side.
The guards stared at him, but made no effort to stop or talkto him.
Rutejìmo looked at them curiously. The nearest guardgripped his sword and Rutejìmo forced his eyes back towardthe city. He had passed two other guard buildings on the walkto ward the city and had been met with the same at ti tude.
The road he followed would bring him to the western side ofthe city, one of the sides that typically welcomed Tachìra’s clan.The north ern and south ern were en trances for Cho bìre’s cho ‐sen, though he suspected that with Kosòbyo’s influence andfrom Fidochìma’s comments, there were very few of the nightclan in the shad ows of the city.
Kosòbyo, one of the most powerful of the day clans, hadbeen in the desert from the beginning. The stories told that thefeath ered ser pent was Ta chìra’s fiercest ally, and their city re ‐flect ed the clan’s re pu ta tion and in flu ence.
With exhaustion plucking at his senses and his visionblurred, Rutejìmo let his mind drift as he continued down theroad. The slow impacts of his bare feet smacking on the rockswas soothing, but when he lifted his foot, he felt the last of thedry ing blood peel ing from the warm stones.
He reached the peak of a hill and realized the light hadplayed a trick on him. He thought the brightness meant he wasonly a few chains away. But, standing on the ridge, he saw allof Ko sobyo City spread out be fore him. The blocks and build ‐ings were arranged in letters that spelled out Kosòbyo. Eachsym bol ap peared to have been de signed so there was no ques ‐tion who owned the city.
Individual districts—he didn’t know their names—were litby different colors. The nearest had blue and yellow lights butone of the northern parts was completely red-tinted. Further
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along, green flames lined the streets of what appeared to bethe gran di ose part of the city, which was filled with tall build ‐ings and decorated with statues and murals. The center of thegreen light district had a palace easily five stories tall with amas sive snake head ris ing from the top.
“Drown me in sands,” whis pered Ru te jìmo. The pain of walk ‐ing and his exhaustion momentarily faded as he stared at thecity. There was something about seeing the name of a clan inbuildings and light that outshone his imagination. The clanwas powerful, and they knew it. They didn’t need any walls toguard the city; they were strong enough to fight anyone whodared to in vade their lands.
Stunned, he stumbled forward before regaining his pace. Hewa nted to see the city up close.
An hour later, he walked among the towering buildings. Thetwo-story buildings felt like canyon walls on both sides of him,sheer edges lined with glass windows and frail-looking ironbalconies. On the ground level, the windows were much largerand gave ta ntal iz ing glimpses of the homes and stores in side.
The streetlights had dimmed in the time it took for him towalk into the city. He was in no danger of tripping on a hiddenridge of the paving stones that made up the roads, or theboards of the wooden walks on both sides of the street. Unlikethe flickering, humming lights of home, the glow of theselights steadi ly cov ered every sur face in ti nted col or.
Rutejìmo realized his mouth had dropped open. He closedit with a snap and tried to o ri ent him self. From a dis tance, it lo ‐oked like it was only a few blocks from the edge, but beingcaught in the narrow channels of the street confused him, andhe lost his path to the mes sage board.
Laughter drew his attention. He looked up to see a smallgroup of peo ple co ming out of a bar. They were dressed in yel ‐lows and blues, but the outfits were strange. Instead of a shirtand trousers, they wore unusual jackets and strange hats that
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looked like miniature barrels. The women had donned dresseswith hooped skirts and hats that were a cacophony of feathersand jew els.
Rutejìmo considered finding someone else to ask for help,but the last few groups were dressed in a similar fashion. Noone wore the simple skirts, dresses, or shirts that he hadgrown up with. He wor ried his lip and crossed the street to ‐ward a couple. When he was a rod away, he bowed. “Excuseme, could I please—”
“What is this?” said one of the women. “Did somethingcome crawl ing out of the desert? A lit tle bird? You bet ter be ca ‐re ful, there are snakes in this town.”
The scorn in her voice scraped along Rutejìmo’s ego andpride, but he kept his voice calm. “I’m lost. Could you please di ‐rect me to the ne arest mes sage board?”
“No,” came the response, followed by laughter. They pushedpast him and he aded down the street.
Rutejìmo watched them for a moment and felt very alone.He ducked his head and walked in the opposite direction. Hestill didn’t know where he was go ing, but he didn’t like the gro ‐wing feel ing of dis com fort.
Twenty minutes later, he was swaying with the effort tokeep walking. His hand dripped with blood from when hetripped over his own feet and struck a stone wall. He couldbarely keep his head straight. He slumped against the wall fora moment to clear his head, but then he had to fight the urgeto fall to the gro und and sleep.
A pair of white boots stopped in front of him. They werestur dy and stre aked with dust.
Rutejìmo started and then forced his head up to thestranger. His eyes refused to focus on the green and white blobfor a moment. He frowned and peered forward until it finallycame into focus. It was a woman in her mid-twenties wearingKosòbyo’s colors. Her dark skin looked almost black in the blue
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light above them. Even her hair was in an u n fa mil iar style. In ‐stead of being straight and loose, it had been tied into neatrows that lo oked like fur rows on a field.
“Excuse me,” she spoke with a faint eastern accent, “youcan’t stay here.”
“I’m… sor ry. I’m tired. I’m Ru te jìmo, and I speak for Shi mu ‐sògo.”
The woman frowned. “You speak for…?” And then a smilecrossed her lips, and her green eyes nar rowed for a sec ond.
Ru te jìmo gro aned and steeled him self for an oth er i nsult.“You are from the west, a ren’t you?”He nod ded, his throat burn ing from the eff ort of spe a king.“We don’t talk like that a ro und here.”Ru te jìmo sti fled a yawn. “I’m sor ry, Great Ko sobyo…”The woman gestured with her finger for Rutejìmo to pull
himself from the wall. Her outfit, a long length of clothwrapped around her body, shivered with her movement. “Wedon’t speak like that ei ther.”
“How… I don’t know.” Despair rose up. “I’m so lost.” Hefought back a sob. “This town is too big.”
She helped him stand on his feet. “Come on, where are youhead ing?”
“The mes sage board?”“Which one?”“I…” He stumbled. “I don’t remember anymore. I thought I
did, but when I got here, I got lost. There was a large fountain,and I could see it while co ming up the west ern road.”
She pulled him against her. Her body was warm but solidunder his weight. He could feel the play of muscles and thepower of someone who fought, but she had no scars or marksof battle. Everything inside him said that she was a warrior,but a slender one with no obvious weapon. “I know the place.It’s a bout ten blocks, do you think you can make it?”
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Rutejìmo yawned a little longer than he needed to and thensighed. “I don’t stop. I nev er stop.”
She chuck led.Slumped against her, Rutejìmo noticed she had a circular
badge on her breast. It said Kosobyo Dimóryo along with a pairof words he didn’t un der stand.
“I’m mar ried, Ru te jìmo. There is no re ason to stare.”Ru te jìmo lo oked up, fright ened and em bar rassed. “No, sor ‐
ry. I mean, I nev er saw some thing like that be fore.” He ges ‐tured to the badge.
“Don’t you have guards in your town?”“Not in the valley, but in Wamifuko City. But, they don’t have
mark ings like that.”She tapped her badge. “We have a much bigger city here,
with al most a tho u sand war riors work ing.”“A… tho u sand… war riors?”“How many does your clan have?”“Four.” He felt more ali en than ever.“There is almost a quarter million residents in this town. I
sus pect you have a lot less.”“Less than a hun dred.”She tapped her badge again. “This just means I’m a… street
guard, sec ond rank.”“What does that mean?”“It means I’m go ing to help you find the rest of your clan.”“Oh, thank you.”They walked a few blocks in si lence.“Why are you so tired, Ru te jìmo?”“I… had to do some thing, and I e nded up far from the city.”“What?”He said noth ing.“Does your clan know a bout it?”He nod ded. “It’s what I do. No mat ter where I go.”“Why are you in town?”
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“We de sire a con tract with Ko sòbyo. We’re co uri ers.”“Couriers? Oh, yes, I remember we had a call for them in the
west ern ar eas. You run or ride?”Rutejìmo started to feel uncomfortable with the questions,
but he an swered. “Run. Bird spir it.”“I was go ing to ask that next,” said Di móryo.“Why?”“My job is to protect the city and the clan. Knowing who’s
here is just part of that. Don’t worry, I’m not going to take youto jail or anything. See?” She pointed with her free hand downthe street.
At the end of the street, five massive message boards stoodwith a bout a rod of walk ing space be tween them. Pa pers flut ‐tered along the wood, and he could see more of it piled un der ‐neath the boards in heaps of white and cream.
Ru te jìmo stum bled. “That’s big.”“It’s a big city, but you’ll get used to it.”“I don’t think I could.”She held him tight as she guided him down the street. He
felt no weapon on her, but the tight body and precision of hermovements indicated skill and training. He guessed she wascomparable in abilities to Desòchu but probably not as strongas Chi mípu. She was a war rior and just as strange as the city a ‐ro und him.
A few minutes later, she deposited him next to the nearestmessage board. Stepping back, she ran her hands along herlong black hair to pull it over her shoulder. Her right handsparkled with three golden rings. “You said your clan wasShi…”
“Shi mu sògo.”“Let me see if they left you a mes sage.”He watched her walk down the boards. Years ago, he would
have been interested in her, but after having his heart ripped
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out by Mikáryo and handed back by Mapábyo, he just pushedthe thought aside and con cen trat ed on re ma i ning awake.
“Jìmo!”Rutejìmo jerked and thumped his head against the board.
He had somehow slid down into a pile of papers. A long line ofdrool marked his chest and hand. He groaned and looked upas his broth er stepped up.
Desòchu let out a sigh and knelt in front of him. “You looklike shit so me one ran through.”
“I feel like one of Chobìre’s shits.” Rutejìmo groaned and lethis broth er haul him to his feet. “I’m sor ry, I feel… fell asleep.”
“For close to twenty minutes,” Dimóryo said cheerfully asshe stepped up to them. She flipped a tight braid from hershoulder. Rutejìmo noticed that the braid continued from therows in her hair. “Don’t wor ry, I was watch ing over him.”
Desòchu shoved his hand around Rutejìmo’s waist and heldhim up. “Thank you, Great Ko sòbyo.”
Dimóryo grinned. “Westerners. You have such a quaint wayof spe a king.”
“It’s what we do,” said Desòchu with a smile that was onlyslight ly forced. “At least un til it’s time to sleep.”
“I thought you didn’t stop.” Her eyes never wavered fromDesòchu.
Desòchu glanced down at Rutejìmo and smiled. “No, onlyone of us will never stop. The rest of us are still learning howto keep up.”
She lo oked po int ed ly at Ru te jìmo be fore turn ing back. Ru te ‐jìmo watched as her eyes flickered over Desòchu, pausing onlybriefly on his weapons before tracing up his chest back to hisface. “It doesn’t look like it from here.”
Desòchu bris tled, and his hand balled into a fist.Rutejìmo rested a hand on him, struggling to keep his head
up.
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His brother turned back and nodded. When he looked backat her, he was smil ing a gain. “It takes a while to see it.” He heft ‐ed Rutejìmo up. “Come on, you need some sleep and time withyour wife.”
“Good luck, Shi mu sògo.”“And to you, Great Ko sobyo….” Desòchu paused.Ru te jìmo whis pered her name to his broth er.Desòchu bowed to her. “Great Ko sobyo Di móryo.”She laughed and turned a ro und. “West ern ers.”
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Chapter 11
Recovering
At first blush, infidelity is simple. Get caught and die. However, sex with thewar rior caste is con si dered a non-event. Since there is no chance of pro duc ‐ing a child, it isn’t con si dered a be tray al of the mar ri age.
—Ka ndor Rusi nmar, TheSacrificialWolvesoftheDesert
u te jìmo walked hand in hand with Ma pábyo. The ex haus ‐tion from his purification ritual still plucked at his senses, butsleep and a full meal had helped him recover his energies.Even his recent injuries, including the cut in his shoulder, hadal ready start ed to scab over and no lo nger throbbed.
He wasn’t ful ly re cov ered, but he wa nted to see some of Ko ‐sobyo City’s wonders before heading back to the inn for lunchand a nap.
During the day, the city blossomed with people. All of themwore different outfits, some of them fantastic. There were hatsand cloaks and high boots that weren’t practical for runningacross the sand. As if they cared more about appearance thana skill and a trade. After growing up with practical outfits, thefashion disturbed him in a way he couldn’t explain. He foundhimself frowning at clothes as much as he stared in awe at themore fantastic mechanical devices rolling down the road or
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chug ging away in al ley ways. Even the hair styles lo oked fo ‐reign, with more colors than the pervasive black scattered withbrowns, reds, and blues. There were greens and purples mixedin, col ors that could not pos si bly hap pen nat u ral ly.
“There are so many people out here,” Mapábyo whispered. “Idon’t know how they know each oth er.”
On his other side, Chimípu pulled a roasted lizard out of hermouth. “They don’t. Just a city filled with strangers.”
“There are too many people.” On the opposite side of thewarrior, Nifùni looked through a list of Shimusògo they were tobuy gifts for. Couriers traditionally brought small knickknacksback home when traveling far away. None of them had been sofar across the desert before and the prizes from the city wouldbe treasured. It also meant that they needed to purchase forthe en tire clan in stead of only close fam i ly and fri ends.
Mapábyo leaned her head on Rutejìmo’s shoulder. “I like itbet ter when I know eve ry one’s name.”
“Said the courier who has a new representative every fewmonths,” came Chi mípu’s wry re spo nse.
Mapábyo giggled. “I know everyone though. And they knowme, every oa sis and vil lage.”
Rutejìmo smiled. He kissed the top of Mapábyo’s head. Herfriendliness had saved his life once when he stumbled into anoa sis in the mid dle of the night, and he nev er re gret ted her ac ‐tions.
Chi mípu ran her hand through her red dish hair be fore bit ‐ing the head off the lizard with a crunch. “This is what bigcities are like.”
“Not Wa mi fuko City,” said Ma pábyo.“You’ve been doing the mail run for ten years—do you know
eve ry one there?”Ma pábyo’s si lence was an an swer.Chimípu sighed and rotated the stick to work on the crispy
feet. The look on her face faded to reflect the discomfort that
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Rutejìmo felt. Kosobyo City was too big for desert folk like hisclan.
He looked at the glass-fronted stores they were passing. Aspecialized store was rare for him, and he couldn’t imaginehow much business anyone needed in order to have a placededicated to selling only perfume, much less the three theyhad passed in the last twen ty min utes.
When he spotted a bookstore, he tapped Mapábyo’s hand.“How a bout a book of po ems for Pi dòhu?”
Mapábyo smiled broadly, kissed his shoulder, and pulledaway to head into the store. They had already bought gifts foral most eve ry one in the val ley ex cept for Pi dòhu and Ki tòpi.
Chi mípu glanced at Ru te jìmo. “How are you hold ing up?”Ru te jìmo saw Ni fùni glare at him but he forced him self to fo ‐
cus on Chi mípu. “I’ll live, but… maybe an hour more?”Chimípu stepped closer until they were only a foot apart.
Her question was silent, but just as obvious. She wanted toknow of any trou bles when he an swered Mi fúno’s call.
He hesitated to answer, thinking back to how he had seen aman’s power be ripped from his body as he was sentenced to alife without the desert’s blessing. A prickle of sweat danced onhis brow. He took a deep breath and lied with a slow shake ofhis head.
She nodded and stepped back. She turned to look at Nifùni,who had his back to them. With a shake of her hand, she ges ‐tured down the street. “I want to get something special forDòhu, would you wait with Fùni here for Pábyo?”
Rutejìmo grunted and stepped on the opposite side of thedoor from Ni fùni.
“Thank you, little brother,” she whispered before headingdown the street. Her lithe body disappeared in the crowds in amat ter of sec onds.
Ni fùni sighed loud ly. “Why are you lit tle broth er to her?”
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Rutejìmo leaned against the glass, but didn’t look at Nifùni.“Just some thing we say.”
“You don’t de serve her aff ec tion.”Ru te jìmo said noth ing.“All you do is run away.”Clos ing his eyes for a sec ond, Ru te jìmo co u nted to three be ‐
fore opening them. Across the street, in the opposing store, hecould see so me one stretch ing some sort of can dy on a hook be ‐fore they began to braid it. He wondered what it would tastelike.
“You’re a moon-damned coward. They should have neverbrought you along.”
Rutejìmo sighed and shrugged. “I don’t have an answer,Great Shimusogo Nifùni. The clan elders obviously thought Iwould be ne eded.”
“And the sec ond you see the city, you run off.”“I had to an swer that call.”“This isn’t your place. You aren’t a… you don’t do that…
thing on this side of Mi fúno.”“Actually,” said Dimóryo in an amused voice, “I was going to
say the same thing.”Both Shi mu sògo jumped at her sud den appe a rance.Rutejìmo tilted his head as the Kosòbyo warrior stepped up
between them. In the sunlight, she looked different than thenight before. Her age appeared to be in the lower twenties,with a narrow face and skin the same dark brown as the candyin the store across the street. She had no obvious weapons, butthe fabric wrapped around her body moved like armored cloth.He spotted a few strands of golden thread in the stiff fabric.The last time Rutejìmo had seen armor like that, Mikáryopulled it over her body be fore she tossed him aside.
Memories bubbled up of his first shikāfu, his first longinglove, but he couldn’t re mem ber what her face lo oked like any ‐
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more. Five years of marriage had dulled the memories of hisfirst love.
Nifùni cleared his throat. He was straightening his shirt anda blush darkened his cheeks. Rutejìmo smiled to himself, hecould almost see the younger man puffing up to impress thewar rior.
Di móryo glanced at him. “I’m Ko sobyo Di móryo.”“I-I’m,” stam mered Ni fùni, “Nif… Shi mu sogo Ni fùni.”Her eyes flickered along his body and her smile grew a little
wider. “Are you a ko ji nōmi also?”Ni fùni’s face paled. “No. No!”“A co uri er? A ru nner?”“Yes, one of the fastest.”Rutejìmo fought back the smile. He didn’t need to ruin any
chance Nifùni had with the warrior. If she was anything likeevery other warrior he knew, she would be a safe person tospend a night with; the clan spir its gave war riors more pow er ‐ful abilities, but the blessing came with a price—they lost theirabil i ty to have chil dren.
Dimóryo tugged on one braid before favoring Nifùni withan oth er smile. Ru te jìmo no ticed that her knuck les were cal lo ‐used and scarred, a de tail he failed to catch the night be fore.
She turned back to Rutejìmo, and Nifùni’s smile dropped.“You didn’t say you were a ko ji nōmi, Ru te jìmo.”
Ice ran down Ru te jìmo’s spine. “It isn’t some thing we talk a ‐bout.”
“It may be in the west, but here, we like to know thesethings. There are only six kojinōmi in the city, and they are…rather protective of their services. We had a report that you….”Her voice trailed off as she ap peared to strug gle with the word.
Rutejìmo wanted to duck back into the store, but he heldhis gro und. “I an swer to the call. I don’t have a choice.”
Her green eyes sparkled as she looked over him. “And thereis only one of you?”
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“There are six of the Shimusògo in town, but only one… likeme.” He couldn’t bring himself to say kojinōmi even knowing itwas acceptable. Too many years of not speaking about what hedid stilled his voice.
She dug into the folds of her armored fabric before pullingout a notebook. With a brass pen, she wrote something beforerip ping it off and hand ing it to Ru te jìmo. “You’ve been re quest ‐ed to present yourself to the other kojinōmi at this address inthree nights.”
Ru te jìmo took the pa per, it was an ad dress. “What time?”Dimóryo frowned. “For dinner, isn’t that when you always
do those things?”He shrugged to hide his co nfu sion and lo oked at the u n fa ‐
mil iar ad dress a gain.“Well,” she continued, “as soon as the sun sets, they’ll expect
you there. By yourself, I guess, but I don’t know your rituals.I’m not privy to the priests of the dead.”
The door next to Rutejìmo creaked open, and Mapábyocame out car ry ing two small, hand-bound books. “Jìmo, I fo ‐und the most beautiful….” Her voice trailed off as she looked atthe war rior in front her.
Di móryo turned to look at her but her gaze li n gered on Ru te ‐jìmo for a second. She bowed. “Well met, wife of Rutejìmo, Iam Kosòbyo… wait, I am Dimóryo, and I speak for Kosòbyo,”she said with only a hint of mock ing in her voice.
Mapábyo’s almost black skin darkened even further. Shebowed in return. “I am Shimusogo Mapábyo.” She straightenedand shot a glance at Ru te jìmo. “Is there some thing wrong?”
From her look, he knew there would be more personalquestions when they were alone. Then, he looked back at theKosòbyo warrior. He mentioned he was married, but never toldDi móryo much a bout Ma pábyo.
“No,” Dimóryo said, “not yet. Last night I helped Rutejìmofind the other member of your clan and asked some questions.
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He was not as forthcoming with answers as I hoped, so I hadto pry into your business. Please forgive me, I take my job ofpro tect ing the clan a gainst all threats se ri ous ly.”
Ni fùni spoke up. “I-I would have an swered.”Dimóryo said, “Thank you. It would have been easier if you
were there.”Ni fùni blushed and sank back a gainst the wall.Mapábyo took a step closer to Rutejìmo until her arm
brushed his. “Is there anything we can help you with, GreatKo sobyo Di móryo?”
The warrior smiled again. “I love the way you westernersspeak. No, I’m just glad that Rutejìmo returned to you safely.”She bowed deeply and then again to Nifùni before turning andwalk ing away.
All three of them watched her until she disappeared. ThenMapábyo turned to Rutejìmo. “And how does she know you’remar ried?”
Rutejìmo blushed and held out his hand for the books. “Shethought I was i n ter est ed in her.”
“You,” snapped Mapábyo, “are not allowed to have anothershi kāfu.” She tapped him on the chest with two fi ngers.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You are my onlyflame. Be sides,” he gri nned, “I think Ni fùni is far more i n ter est ‐ed in her.”
Nifùni shoved himself from the wall. “If she would noticeme.” He stormed away, shoving through the crowd going in theop po site di rec tion.
Ru te jìmo gro aned.“He is on a wire, isn’t he?”With a nod, he said, “Yes. He was telling me I’m a coward
when she came up.”“You a ren’t one.”“Tópi said the same thing be fore we left.”
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“At least Tópi has the excuse of being a child. Nifùni is onlyact ing like one.” Ma pábyo’s voice was tense.
Rutejìmo plucked the top book from her hand and openedit. The words looked different for a moment, then he realizedthe arrangement was different than he was used to reading,there were too many glyphs instead of markers. But, it was stilla book of poems, one of Pidòhu’s passions. He bobbed hishead in ap proval. “Dòhu will love it.”
Mapábyo kissed him. “I hope so.” She kissed him again.“But, right now, the inn room is empty, and,” her smile grewmore sul try, “I think you need a nap.”
Rutejìmo looked at her. As he stared into her bright eyes, hefelt himself growing warmer. With a grin, he slipped his handa ro und her waist and kissed her. “I am tired, my shi kāfu.”
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Chapter 12
The Offer
Age car ries more weight than wis dom.—Ko sòbyo proverb
u te jìmo hummed to himself as he walked along the pavedroad. A few hours with Mapábyo had brightened his mood,and he still enjoyed the afterglow that pulsed in his veins. Heknew part of her passion was to remind him of their marriageand jealousy over the Kosòbyo warrior, but it didn’t matter tohim. He had sworn his love for Mapábyo and there was noforce that would ever turn him away.
Around him, the streets were crowded with folk walkingand drinking and talking. It was an hour after sunset, but thepress of desert folk only di min ished slight ly since the street ‐lights had turned on.
He slowed down at a brightly-lit bar and peered inside. Thepress of people made it hard, but after a few minutes, he didn’tsee Nifùni and moved on. The younger man hadn’t returned tothe inn by su ndown and eve ry one was out lo o king for him.
At first, he wondered if a festival was going on, but then itquickly became apparent these crowds were normal on allnights in the city, a far cry from the silence he grew up with. At
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home, when the sun went down, everyone retreated to theirhome caves. Now that he had seen how they did things here,he realized neither was wrong, simply the nature of the valleyand the city, two diffe rent worlds in the same desert.
Ru te jìmo didn’t know how to ap proach Ni fùni. There was a ‐nger in the younger man’s heart, but it was the same hatredthat so many of the younger clan members had. Very few ofthem understood how Rutejìmo stood between two worlds, acourier of Shimusògo and a kojinōmi. The passing between histwo duties was exhausting and unforgiving, but he couldn’tturn his back on ei ther.
He al ways wo n dered if his slow ness at ru n ning and his u ‐nwillingness to take a life were somehow connected with hisser vices to the dead.
At the end of the block, he wait ed for a large me chan i cal spi ‐der to walk down the street. Made of brass, it shook the groundwith every step. Unlike the massive scorpions that he had seencrossing the desert, the spider was his height and about twicethe length of a wagon. The driver sat behind the ruby eyes,with one leg on each side of the neck. She kept her backstraight while she rested one hand on the steering rod. Herhair appeared to be tucked into a low, circular hat. A pair ofcrossed daggers were sheathed on her back, the pommelsmatching the red eyes of the spider and the sheaths matchingher yel low and white out fit.
On the back of the spider, there was a cradle of some sortwith a man lo u n ging in side it. He lo oked yo u nger than the dri ‐ver but wore the same colors she did. He waved at some of thepeo ple on the street but did noth ing else.
Ru te jìmo watched them pass. He wo n dered a bout the cou ‐ple. She looked like a warrior of some sort, and he obviouslywasn’t. She ap peared to be serv ing him, which was the op po ‐site of everything Rutejìmo grew up with. Warriors served theclan, but not by cart ing an in di vid ual a ro und.
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Shrugging, he crossed the street and headed for the nextbar. It was a larg er one that ran the en tire length of the block, a ‐bout two chains, and he had to push himself inside to inspectit.
There was a heavily muscled man inside the door, watchingthe bar. He looked at Rutejìmo and then gestured toward theback.
Ru te jìmo bowed. “Thank you.” He didn’t know how to ad ‐dress the man, he wasn’t familiar with the clan colors and hedidn’t appear to have the name embroidered on his outfit likemost of the Shi mu sògo did.
Following the gesture, he padded through the room. Hisbare feet contrasted to everyone else who wore shoes andboots. He wrapped his arms over his chest as he ducked to ‐ward the fur ther room.
He found Nifùni in the quieter section of the public house.He sat at a small table, talking to a woman who wore a heavycloak de spite the heat of the room.
Rutejìmo hesitated, wondering if Nifùni was trying to findsome company for the night. He was an adult, and none of theoth ers would stop him. He start ed to turn away, but a gut feel ‐ing stopped him from leaving. He turned back just as a womanwith a tray of food came walking up behind him. Muttering anapol o gy, he ducked a gainst a post to let her pass.
He watched Ni fùni and the woman for a mo ment. The lo ‐nger he looked, the less it felt like an attempt at an amorousencounter. She kept looking up and around her before duckingher head down. He caught a glimpse of light brown hair un ‐der neath her cloak and a flash of gold a ro und her throat.
Nifùni was also nervous. Rutejìmo could tell by the way hewas twist ing his palm a ro und his oth er wrist and the rapid tap ‐ping of his left foot.
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The sense of wrongness rose. It was different than Mifúno’scall but just as pressing. He cleared his throat and pushedaway from the post to cross the room.
When Nifùni looked up at Rutejìmo, his expressiondropped. “What are you do ing here?”
Rutejìmo hesitated for a moment, then sat down. “Youdidn’t re turn to the inn. We were wor ried a bout you.”
“I’m fine, go away.”Rutejìmo glanced at the woman. Underneath the cloak, he
saw a few lines around her eyes and wrinkles along her hands.He guessed her to be a bout his age, near thir ty. “I’m sor ry to i ‐nter rupt.”
The woman shook her head. “No, we were almost done. Areyou also a co uri er?”
He nod ded in re spo nse.“Is Ni fùni re al ly the fastest?”Rutejìmo glanced at Nifùni who looked back pleadingly. He
started to agree, if anything to give Nifùni a chance, but thewrongness continued to rise in his throat. He felt the sensationhove ring in his mind and puls ing in his ve ins. Some thing dis ‐turbed him, but he couldn’t put a word on it. To stall, he mut ‐tered, “He’s much faster than me.”
“Thank the sands.” The woman dug into her cloak and thenpulled out a thick roll of paper money and a cylindrical case.The case was made of bone and heavily carved with scenes ofsnakes. It was as thick as Rutejìmo’s wrist and a foot in length.He had seen thousands of them; they were used to delivercontracts and private messages. Just like many which hadpassed over his palms du ring his adult life as a co uri er.
She tucked the case in the crook of her elbow and peeledbills from the roll of money. To Rutejìmo’s surprise, they weretho u sand pyābi notes.
When she had pulled off twen ty and was still mov ing, Ru te ‐jìmo held up his hand. “Wait.”
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“Not now, Jìmo!” snapped Ni fùni.The woman froze.Ru te jìmo glared at Ni fùni. “You ne goti ated a con tract?”“Yes, I did. It’s just a de liv ery, noth ing more.”“That—,” Rutejìmo gestured to the twenty thousand pyābi
on the ta ble, “—is not ‘just’ a con tract. No one pays twen ty tho u ‐sand for—”
“I-I can pay sixty more,” said the woman. She held out therest of the mon ey.
Ru te jìmo froze as the ice sank into his stom ach. He shiv ‐ered as he looked at her. “Eighty thousand for a delivery? Towhere?”
“To Wami-fuko City.”Rutejìmo’s discomfort grew at her stumbling over the name.
He felt the tension squeezing down on his chest, a pressure tore spond. “What is in there?”
Ni fùni reached out for Ru te jìmo. “You can’t ask—”Rutejìmo yanked back. He could feel his voice growing
more tense but he had to keep speaking. “No one pays thatmuch for a simple delivery. That is what you pay for someonerisk ing their life. So, I have to ask, what is in that case?”
“J-Just a mes sage.”“To who?”“The Wamifūko.” She held out her shaking hands with the
roll of bills rolling in her palm. “Please, just take it. I’ll give youevery thing.”
The desperation in her voice warred with the feeling in hisgut. Everything told him to walk away, to leave her alone. But,he also wa nted to help.
Nifùni’s chair scraped on the floor as he moved closer.“Jìmo,” he whispered, “that’s over a hundred thousand pyābi!That would pay for the year! It makes up for the money welost!”
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Rutejìmo clenched his jaw, looking at the money in herpalm. He knew how much the clan needed it. It was enough tomake the clan comfortable. They could afford to even purchasenew ma chines and mag ic for the clan val ley.
He looked into her eyes, a swirling green, and the sorrowand desperation on her shadowed face plucked at his heart.He wanted to help her, a desperation that arose to grip histhoughts.
Rutejìmo almost said yes, but then he drew away. “Who areyou?”
She inhaled sharply, and her hand slumped to the table. Sheglanced over her shoulder, and he saw a flash of a green andgold snake tattooed on her cheek. “No one,” she whisperedwhen she turned back. “Please, Great… Shim… Ru te jìmo. I pro ‐mise you, it’s just a mes sage.”
Her eyes drew him in, tugging at his resistance. The brightgreen swam across his vision and seeped into his thoughts. Hecould de liv er a sim ple mes sage; no one would have to know.
His mouth opened without him thinking. He could feel thewords bubbling out, but he drew back. Clearing his throat, heforced his thoughts to focus on her snake tattoo instead of hereyes.
“No.” It was the hard est word he could ever speak.“What!?” Nifùni slapped on the table as he stood up. “It’s a
hun dred tho u sand pyābi!”Rutejìmo glared at him. “And now everyone in this room
knows.”Nifùni paled and looked around at everyone staring at him.
Slow ly, he sank back into his chair.Rutejìmo kept watching him. “And in this case, I speak for
Shi mu sògo.” He matched glares with Ni fùni.Nifùni’s jaw tightened and a muscle jumped with his anger.
“You can’t speak for Shi mu sògo.”
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“I can,” announced Rutejìmo. He turned back to her. “I’msorry, but if you want to hire the Shimusògo for services,please come to the Pochiryo Inn tomorrow morning. We willbe glad to listen to you then, but I feel you need to explain thejob in more de tail be fore—”
“Please, I don’t have time.”Ru te jìmo near ly lo oked at her eyes and forced him self to fo ‐
cus on her tattoo. “No, we need a majority to accept this type ofjob. The others will be willing to listen, but at the moment, weare scattered—” He pointedly looked at Nifùni, “—across thetown lo o king for one of ours.”
Nifùni’s face was a mask of rage. His lips quivered as heglared dag gers at Ru te jìmo.
Rutejìmo turned back. “Please understand, Great….” Hisvoice trailed off as he tried to identify her clan. Normally, onewould announce their clan, but she was obviously hiding. Theonly hint of her colors was the tattoo on her cheek. He couldsee green and gold in the hidden depths. His eyes droppeddown to her hand. There was another tattoo on the back of herpalm, another snake. There was only one clan who used greenand gold with a snake, the Ko sòbyo.
He lifted his attention back to hers. “We are willing to workwith you, but neither Nifùni or I can accept this contracttonight.”
She stood up. “I-I’m sorry, I have to leave then.” She clutchedthe money and case in her hand as she stumbled toward adoor in the back.
Rutejìmo felt a moment of relief when she disappeared outof sight.
“You are a moon-damned cow ard!” screamed Ni fùni.A ro und them, con ver sa tions halt ed in stant ly.Ni fùni stood up and shoved Ru te jìmo back.
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The chair cre aked loud ly as Ru te jìmo tried to re gain his bal ‐ance. He managed to keep his feet, but it tilted over, clatteringloud ly in the sud den si lence as Ru te jìmo straight ened.
Ru te jìmo held up his hands. “Ni fùni—”“No! You are a coward! That could have set us up for the
year! And you tossed it aside beca use you can’t han dle—”As Nifùni screamed, Rutejìmo saw the muscular man at the
door walk ing to ward them.“—a lit tle challe nge. It was just a sim ple, sand-damned de liv ‐
ery. We’ve done them every day of our sand-damned lives.” Ni ‐fùni flailed at Rutejìmo, his fingers sailing inches away fromRu te jìmo’s shirt.
Rutejìmo gestured for Nifùni to calm down. “Let’s go backand talk a bout this. Please, we need—”
Nifùni bellowed at the top of his lungs. “You are a sand-damned, moon-dazed cow ard whose own chil dren are dis gust ‐ed by you. You can’t han dle—”
The muscular man stopped next to him and crossed hisarms. A golden flame coursed along his body, tracing theridges of his muscles, and glinting off the piercings thatmarked his face and ears.
As Nifùni continued to rant, Rutejìmo turned to the manand bowed apologetically. “I’m sorry, please forgive my clan. Ido not wish to interrupt your celebrations.” He turned andwalked out of the bar.
The muscular man walked past, his left hand balling into afist.
Nifùni screamed after him. “Again! You are leaving again—”His voice stopped with a thud. The sound of air escaping hislungs filled the si lence of the bar.
Rutejìmo closed his eyes tightly to fight back the tears. Heshould have nev er a ba n doned his clan, but Ni fùni was no lo ‐nger liste ning.
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He stopped outside. A few seconds later, Nifùni came flyingout the door to land in an u n gain ly heap on the gro und.
Nifùni scrambled to his feet. “Coward! You idiotic, festeringpile of shit smeared on—”
There was a blast of air and then Desòchu stood next to Ru ‐tejìmo. Around them, the street lights flared brilliantly. Oneburst into flames and an oth er cracked loud ly.
Rutejìmo fought the tears. He shook his head firmly. Hedidn’t want Desòchu to stop the fight, but it was obvious thatNi fùni didn’t re spect Ru te jìmo’s de ci sion as an el der. “I’m sor ‐ry, but we have to talk a bout this.”
“Talk a bout what?” asked Desòchu.“A job!” snapped Nifùni, “A hundred thousand pyābi job that
this rotted corpse of a man turned down because he was tooafraid to risk his own life. It was a sim ple mes sage. Just a sim ‐ple, sand-damned mes sage!”
Ru te jìmo wa nted to scream back, to yell some thing. Strug ‐gling, he turned to his broth er. “I wa nted to say yes.”
“Then why didn’t you?”“Because I wanted to say yes despite what my heart was
telling me. No one de liv ers a—”“Don’t give your side of the story, you castrated sack of
horse shit!”Desòchu stared at Ru te jìmo for a long time.Rutejìmo wiped the tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry,
Great Shimusogo Desòchu. I couldn’t accept it without talkingto the oth ers.”
Desòchu nod ded twice. “Then let’s talk.”“Of course,” snapped Nifùni, “you’d take his side. You are his
damned broth er, you—”Desòchu’s punch caught Nifùni across the jaw, spinning the
courier three times before he collapsed to the ground. Theflash of gold en light that fol lowed the punch arced to the ne ‐arest street light which also burst into flames.
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Something inside the bar exploded and there were screamsof out rage.
The muscular bouncer stepped out of the door, his facetwist ed in a scowl.
With another sigh, Desòchu shook his head. “Let me pay forthe dam ages.”
Ni fùni sat up, hold ing his jaw.“And then, we are all go ing back to the inn.”
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Chapter 13
Voting
As if age could prevent the horrors already seen, decisions among a clan aremade through the o pi ni on of years.
—Heyo jyu nashi Gu tèmo
aked, Rutejìmo entered the shared inn room and tossed histowel on his sleeping mat. He started to throw his bathing bagafter it but stopped when Mapábyo stood up from one of thebeds. He smiled and held it out for her, along with the key toget into the bathing area.
She kissed him and trailed her fingers along his arm beforegrab bing both and head ing out.
Feeling playful, he stepped back out of the room to watchher bare ass as she walked down the hall.
Ma pábyo stopped at the door, blew him a kiss, and then un ‐locked it.
“You know,” said Byochína from where she was dressing inthe corner, “you could enjoy some privacy if you both went inat the same time.”
“Yeah, but then nei ther would get cle aned,” said Desòchu.
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Chimípu snickered. She was finishing pulling on a red skirthemmed in o range. Her bare legs, hard and sol id as any Shi mu ‐sògo ru nner, flexed with her move ments.
A blush grew on Rutejìmo’s cheeks. He and Mapábyo werethe only married couple on the trip, and it led to teasing. Hegrabbed his trousers and be gan to dress.
The only one not laughing was Nifùni who sat in anothercorner, his clothes wrinkled on his body and a scowl on hisface. His left cheek had a dark shadow from where Desòchupunched him.
Rutejìmo kept his eyes averted from the younger man anddressed quickly. He picked a pair of orange trousers and awhite button-down shirt, one of his favorite outfits, but farplainer than anything the city folk wore outside. He hadbrought three tops and two trousers, which was enough formost trips.
Desòchu finished and sat down. He dug into his pack andpulled out a wal let with the clan’s mon ey.
“How much?” asked Chi mípu.After a moment of counting, Desòchu sighed. “Maybe three
days at most. This city is ex pen sive.”“At least we have the shop ping done.”He nod ded. “Ex cept for Tòpi and Róma.”Ru te jìmo spoke up. “Pábyo and I got Róma a hair comb.”“Jìmo,” Chimípu said as she walked around him. “You’re her
papa. Those gifts don’t co unt. I say we get her a book.”Ni fùni scoffed.“Poetry?” asked Byochína before she pulled her shirt down
over her chest. Her hair, long and black, fanned out along thefab ric be fore cascad ing down.
Chimípu shook her head. “No, Pidòhu lets her read his. Howabout one of those travel books I saw? They have pictures ofthe city in them, and they are made by a machine instead of
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hand-written. I bet she’d like those. She seems like a girl whowould like to trav el.”
“How can you tell?” Byochína tugged her shirt into place.“She doesn’t talk right.”
Ru te jìmo felt a prick le of de fen sive ness. “She talks.”“Yes, like an adult,” said Byochína. “She’s the only three-
year-old that calls her papa by his name.”“And yet,” added Desòchu, “we make all teenagers use their
pa rent’s names in stead of mama and papa. She’s just ad ‐vanced for her age.”
Byochína glanced at Rutejìmo and then back to Desòchu.“She’s creepy. She doesn’t blink enough and I always get thefeel ing that she’s se e ing some thing more than just me.”
Chimípu said, “No, she just follows a different path.” Shesmiled at him. “She’s like Jìmo.”
Ru te jìmo smiled back, still blu shing.“Who’s like Jìmo?” asked Mapábyo as she came in. Her body
dripped with wa ter and she smelled of soap and hon ey.Ru te jìmo breathed in and e njoyed her scent. “Róma.”“I agree, she’s like her papa.” Mapábyo tossed her towel and
the bathing sup plies on Ru te jìmo’s bag be fore she dressed her ‐self. She was the last of the Shimusògo to use the washingarea. He watched the water dripping off the bird tattoo on herbreast and smiled.
Desòchu stood up. “Good thing we are talk ing to the Ko ‐sòbyo tomorrow. I don’t think we can afford many morenights. Ho pe ful ly, they will give us an ad vance.”
Nifùni raised his head, glared at Rutejìmo, and then said,“Rutejìmo has to present himself to the kojinōmi in threedays.”
The room grew still.“We,” Desòchu said, “don’t talk a bout that.”“Why not?” asked Nifùni. “They talk about it on the streets
with out whispe ring.”
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“They aren’t us. There are things that we don’t talk abouteven a mong our selves. It is the Shi mu sogo Way.”
Rutejìmo hated when his brother spoke of the ShimusogoWay, but war riors were re spon si ble for ke e ping the clan’s tra di ‐tions. He ducked his head, u nwill ing to par ti ci pate in the lo o ‐ming fight.
The silence stretched awkwardly, punctuated only by therus tle of clothes.
Desòchu cleared his throat. “If we have to stay that long, wecan manage another night but it will be tight. Today, we’ll see ifwe can find a quick job or two. Just e nough to cov er the room.”
Nifùni snarled and glared at Rutejìmo. “We would have hadan oth er job, if the cow ard didn’t turn it down.”
A muscle in Mapábyo’s back tightened. After a heartbeat,she set down her brush with enough force that the end tableshook.
Chi mípu turned. “What?”Nifùni waved his hand at Rutejìmo. “He turned down a job.
It was a good one too, a simple delivery; but he was too muchof a—”
“Say that word one more time,” growled Desòchu, “and I willhit you far hard er than I did last night. And I will break some ‐thing more im por tant than your ego.”
Ni fùni clamped his mouth shut, his eyes fla shing with a ‐nger.
Chimípu sat on the corner of the bed Nifùni had claimed.“You dis agree?”
“Of course I dis agree. A hun dred tho u sand is a lot of mon ‐ey.”
Ru te jìmo could feel the ten sion gathe ring a ro und him. Ma ‐pábyo and Byochína both looked at him quizzically. He twistedhis hand together and opened his mouth to rebuke the claim,but Desòchu shook his head, and Ru te jìmo re ma ined silent.
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Chimípu shifted so she was sitting cross-legged on the bed.“Then, tell me a bout the job.”
Nifùni looked at Desòchu and Rutejìmo with a scowl etchedon his face.
“Fùni, please?”Nifùni glared at Rutejìmo for a long time, then he sighed. “I
was drinking by myself when she showed up and asked if Iwas a courier. Since that is what I was,” his gaze drifted to thebed, “mutte ring a bout, I agreed. She said she wa nted a mes ‐sage de liv ered and she was will ing to pay twen ty tho u sand.”
“You said a hun dred,” said Chi mípu.Nifùni gestured to Rutejìmo who flinched. “It was twenty to
start, but when Rutejìmo showed up, he started to say no, andshe kept raising the price. Eventually, she just offered an entireroll of pyābi if we would take it.”
Desòchu spoke up. “Take it where?”“To any large city and the clan that con trols it. I asked if Wa ‐
mifūko would work, since they are on the way home, and shesaid yes. It just had to be there in the next few days. I figuredwe were heading home anyways, so it wouldn’t be such astrug gle.”
“What’s her name?” asked Chi mípu.“I don’t know.”“What clan was she?”“I don’t know.”Rutejìmo cleared his throat. “Kosòbyo, I think. She had a
green and gold tattoo on her cheek, a snake. And another onher wrist.”
“I doubt that.” Ni fùni puffed out his chest as he spoke. “Ko ‐sòbyo is in charge here, they wouldn’t need us for somethinglike that.”
Rutejìmo wanted to point out that Nifùni never asked thewoman for her clan, but said noth ing.
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Desòchu leaned against the small dresser next to the bed.He clutched the wallet tightly and there was concern on hisface. “She was de spe rate?”
“I guess.” Ni fùni lo oked up at the ceil ing, “Yeah, she was de ‐spe rate.”
No one said any thing for a mo ment.Nifùni looked around at the others. “Look, can’t we vote or
some thing? It’s e nough mon ey to make up what we lost.”Desòchu lo oked at Chi mípu who lo oked back. He nod ded af ‐
ter a sec ond. “We’ll vote.”Everyone went to their bags to gather their voting stones.
Rutejìmo had one for every year since he passed his right ofpassage except for the one year he was ostracized from hisclan. For a mo ment, sad ness draped over him as he re mem ‐bered where he had left it: at the bot tom of the urn with his u ‐nborn child.
Ni fùni sat down on the end of the bed.Desòchu ges tured Ru te jìmo to the oth er one.Rutejìmo stepped over the sleeping bags on the floor to go
where his broth er in di cat ed.“Okay, on Nifùni’s bed if we go looking for her. Jìmo’s if we
turn it down.”Taking a deep breath, Rutejìmo started to gather up all his
stones, but then only pulled out one. Carefully, he set it downon the bed next to his thigh. It was a way of expressing that heagreed with his decision, but he wasn’t willing to put the fullweight of his age behind it. It was also a tradition that one ofhis fri ends had, be fore he died.
Desòchu’s eyebrow rose, and Rutejìmo saw him adjust thenum ber of rocks in his hand.
On the other side of the room, Nifùni poured out his entireme asure of vot ing stones on the bed. Sev en bright red rocks la ‐nded in a heap.
A mo ment lat er, one of Chi mípu’s la nded next to Ni fùni.
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Ni fùni lo oked at Ru te jìmo with undis guised glee.Desòchu shook his head and reached over to Ru te jìmo be ‐
fore drop ping five down.Ma pábyo jo ined him, adding all five of hers.It came down to Byochína. She stood in the center, looking
back and forth as she played with her stones.Ni fùni cle ared his throat. “Come—”“Si lence!” snapped both Desòchu and Chi mípu.Then, with a tear in her eye, Byochína tossed a single stone
to Ni fùni. “I’m sor ry, I be lieve you, but…”Nifùni let out a long gasp of frustration. There was only
nine on his side and eleven on Ru te jìmo’s.Desòchu gathered up his stones. “We find a different job.
Pair off and check the message boards. Look for somethingthat can be done in a day, two at the max i mum.”
Byochína held out her hand, her voting stone still in it.“Come on, Nifùni.” She looked back at Desòchu. “We’ll take theeast side, Great Shi mu sogo Desòchu.”
Dragging his feet, Nifùni stood up and headed out the dooraft er her.
Ru te jìmo stared down at his stones.Desòchu patted him on his back. “I trust your feelings, Jìmo.
If you thought there was some thing wrong, then it was prob a ‐bly for the best we didn’t get in volved.”
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Chapter 14
Presents
All mag ic has re so nance, which only re sponds vi o lent ly when two in com ‐pat i ble forces are brought to geth er.
—PrimeronCrystalSphereTechniques
he merchant’s store was quiet and peaceful, lined with blankbooks and writing utensils ranging from simple charcoal tomagical devices that never ran out of ink. The artifacts were inglass cases, marked with a thin yellow line to indicate theirsen si tiv i ty to re so nance. Those with lit tle mag ic, such as Ru te ‐jìmo, could use them safely but the petabiryōchi, a word hedidn’t know, would spark or explode if Chimípu walked tooclose.
Mapábyo led the way around the store, gathering up a fewinexpensive gifts for Piróma, a blank book and some paper-wrapped charcoal. The pages crinkled as she ran her fingersalong the oth er pa pers. She stopped at a wo oden case and po ‐int ed out a dizzy ing ar ray of met al tips in side.
Rutejìmo wasn’t sure what they were, but the ink-splotchedpa per with cal li graph ic writ ing sug gest ed they were also writ ‐ing devices. His gaze dropped to the price, two thousand. Itwasn’t the most expensive item in the store, that was a five
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thousand pyābi pen that somehow had no resonance butcould write for hours.
He sighed, and memories of the morning’s vote returned tohis thoughts. The Shi mu sògo were not a rich clan and a hun ‐dred thousand pyābi would have gone a long way to lettinghim buy gifts like the fan cy pa pers for his daugh ter and Pi ‐dòhu.
His son would still be hap py with a new ball though, no mat ‐ter how much mon ey they spent on it.
Mapábyo glanced at him, a beam of sunlight dancing on heral most black skin. “You made the right choice.”
Rutejìmo smiled and gestured to the case. “It doesn’t feellike it now.” He lo oked at it. “Be fore I came here, I nev er knew a ‐bout these things. But, seeing them, I want to get them for mydaugh ter beca use I think she would love them. I want to show ‐er the clan in presents because they have done so much, but Iturned it down just because it felt wrong.” He sniffed. “Maybe Iam a cow ard.”
Mapábyo’s eyes flashed in the sun as she stepped up tohim. “Nev er,” she hissed, “use that word to de scribe your self.”
He o pened his mouth.She held up two fingers, silencing him. “You were never a
cow ard. You are not a fail ure. You are Great Shi mu sogo Ru te ‐jìmo, the man I married, the father of my children, and theblessed of both Shimusògo and,” she hesitated before loweringher voice to a whis per, “Mi fúno.”
He shiv ered at her words.“And realize that I,” she tapped between her breasts with
both fi ngers, “didn’t mar ry a cow ard. I mar ried you.”Ru te jìmo bowed his head. “Yes, Great Shi mu sogo Ma ‐
pábyo.”“Good, now let’s buy these things.” She held up the items
she had selected “And then see if that meat merchant is readyfor us to make her de liv ery.”
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Ten minutes later, they were walking out of the butchershop. Mapábyo held her travel pack loosely in her hand, thebot tom only inch es from the gro und.
“Damn the sands,” she mut tered.Rutejìmo was also disappointed, but he tried to keep it from
his voice. “She did say we would only get the job if theycouldn’t find their u sual ru nner. Appa rent ly, they fo und her.”
“I know, but it would have been nice. This city is ex pen sive.”“You mean, the gifts we’re buy ing are ex pen sive.”She lo oked down at her bag. Her low er lip pe eked out slight ‐
ly. “Do we have to sell them back?”Rutejìmo shook his head. “What if we camp out of town for
the rest of the trip?”“Your brother said that we have to put on the appearance of
be ing sta ble. Co we ring in the sands wouldn’t give the right im ‐pres sion.”
He sighed. “Damn, why can’t it be easy?”Ma pábyo le aned into him. She said noth ing for a long mo ‐
ment, then kissed his shoul der.He slipped his arm a ro und her waist and tried not to think a ‐
bout the mon ey.“Shimusògo!” Byochína ran toward them waving a hand.
Her speed wasn’t dri ven by Shi mu sògo’s speed, but she out ‐paced two horses trotting down the street before cutting infront of them and onto the wooden sidewalk. She stopped infront of the cou ple while lo o king a ro und.
A prickle of fear ran down Rutejìmo’s spine and he took astep away from Ma pábyo.
“Have you seen Nifùni?” she asked steadily, the run noteven bre a king her voice.
Ma pábyo shook her head. “No, why?”“I went in to ask about a delivery, and when I came out, he
was gone. That was a bout twen ty min utes ago.”“Why did he leave?”
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Byochína held up her hands. “I don’t know! He wouldn’thave just wa n dered off. What if some thing is wrong?”
Fear twisted Rutejìmo’s gut. There was an obvious answerwhy Nifùni would have abandoned his clan. “Maybe he foundthat woman. The one we vot ed on this morn ing.”
“No,” Mapábyo said firmly, “he wouldn’t go against a clanvote. Be sides, how could he find her in a city this big?”
“Sorry,” Rutejìmo groaned, “I shouldn’t have said it. It wasjust my head getting stuck. Maybe he just found a bar servingfree drinks?”
“Or a pret ty girl?” said Ma pábyo.Byochína twisted her hands together. “Just in case, we need
to find him. I don’t want him getting drunk alone in this city.Faster is bet ter, don’t you think? Do you think we can speed?”
Mapábyo gestured to an intersection in front of them. “Iread that the one-way streets allow some magic, but mostdon’t. If we stick to the one-ways, then Rutejìmo could racealong the others. His power is much weaker than ours andwon’t ca use feed back.”
For the briefest moment, guilt slammed into him, but it wasquickly replaced with determination. Even though he was theslowest of the clan, Mapábyo was right. At his top speed, heproduced almost no resonance with artifacts. He swallowedhis pride and nod ded. “I can do it.”
Rutejìmo pointed at the front side of the butcher’s shop.“There are two one-way streets that intersect about a block thatway, back where the writing shop was. We could check inthere, say every ten minutes? If you two take the one-ways, I’llcir cle a ro und and look. A plan?”
Byo chí na bowed. “Shi mu sògo run.”“Shi mu sògo run,” said Ma pábyo and Ru te jìmo.Settling his pack over his shoulders, Rutejìmo cinched it
down and then sprinted forward just as his dépa raced past.The world blurred for only a few chains be fore the dépa dis ap ‐
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peared. He jammed his bare feet into the ground and skiddedto a halt.
When he stopped, he ig nored the cries of out rage and pe ‐ered a ro und. When he didn’t see Ni fùni, he ac cele rat ed for an ‐oth er chain and lo oked a gain.
In min utes, the con stant start ing and stop ping left his mus ‐cles aching and his feet sore. It felt like walking across thedesert without food or the long runs keeping up with the restof the clan. He wanted to slow to a jog, but the fear that hewould miss Ni fùni con ti nued to twist his guts.
He kept going, one chain and stop. One chain and stop. Theworld became a blur of nothing but people yelling at him anda con stant appe a rance of stores and hous es.
Rutejìmo was just crossing over one of the one-way streetswhen he caught a flash of green and gold. He glanced toward itand spotted Dimóryo leading two other Kosòbyo guards awayfrom him. She walked with purpose as she shoved her waythrough the crowds.
The feeling of fear rose and burned the back of his throat.He didn’t think her pre sence was a co inci dence.
The moment passed, and then he was past the intersection.Swearing, he came to a halt, his bare feet scraping against thecobblestones. A few bricks pried free before he managed tocome to a halt only a foot away from a met al light pole. Gasp ‐ing, he turned and jogged back to the intersection to follow thethree guards.
It only took him seconds to catch up to them and a secondlonger to determine their destination. There was a crowd ofpeople five blocks ahead with more desert folk running towardit.
“Sands,” he muttered and accelerated past the Kosòbyoguards. He knew he was violating a law in front of them, but ifNi fùni was in trou ble, he ne eded to get there first.
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The dépa circled around the crowd and Rutejìmo followedit. On the far side, it had disappeared so Rutejìmo came to aslid ing halt and lo oked at the crowd’s fo cus.
A woman in Ko sòbyo col ors lay in a pool of blood that po ‐ured out of her ears, eyes, mouth, and be tween her legs. It sta ‐ined her green dress and smelled both coppery and acidic.One hand clutched against her breast and the other hadclawed into the paving stones until the whites of her boneswere vis i ble.
Bile rose in his throat. He had tended thousands of dyingbut some thing a bout how the woman died was un like any oth ‐er death. It looked closer to plague than a weapon, except shehad died quick ly and vi o lent ly.
When he caught sight of a snake tattoo, he forced himself tolook further. He had not seen the woman’s face in the cloak,but he remembered the tattoo on her cheek. He frowned andtook a step closer. From his vantage point, he couldn’t seemuch with the blood coat ing her face.
He spotted just a hint of a tail in one of the few unmarredspots of her face. His gaze focused on her hand, also coveredin blood, and he spot ted an oth er tat too pe e king out.
Rutejìmo didn’t know if it was the same woman or not, butshe looked similar enough for him to worry for Nifùni’s life.Turning around, he looked for any sign of his clan member,but the crowds were gathering too quickly. He leaned to theside, looking past people covering their mouths and makingfaces as they ap proached.
Hissing through his clenched teeth, he shoved his way pastthe brightly-colored dresses and more somber suits. As soonas he could get clear, he spri nted a chain away and lo oked a ro ‐und.
The difference of almost seventy feet was stark. There wereonly a few people remaining and the street was almost empty.
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Proprietors stared out the doors of their shops, but otherwiseeve ry one had gath ered a ro und the mur der scene be hind him.
“Come on, Nifùni, where are you?” Rutejìmo muttered tohim self.
He spun a ro und and sca nned his sur ro und ings. He was a ‐bout to accelerate to a new position when he spotted one ofthe street lights spark ing. Be yond that, a bout a block away, so ‐meone was picking up papers that had been scattered almosta rod’s dis tance in a straight line from the lamp.
Rutejìmo followed an imaginary line between the lamp andpapers. He saw more signs of high-speed movement: torn upbricks, a cracked window in front of a store, and a smokingsign that he guessed used to glow.
Set ting his jaw, he tight ened his grip on his pack and ac cele ‐rated into a sprint. Instead of following Nifùni’s probable path,he turned at the next intersection and headed back to wherehe was go ing to meet the oth ers. He had to tell them be fore ru ‐n ning off on his own.
He stopped at the crossroads where Mapábyo and Byochínawere wait ing. “Ni fùni’s in trou ble,” he said and spun a ro und.
Three dépa raced past them, and Rutejìmo sprinted afterthem, knowing his wife and clan would follow. He wished hecould also summon Desòchu or Chimípu, but they were on theop po site side of the city, also lo o king for Ni fùni.
As soon as they reached the same path as Nifùni, Mapábyoand Byochína accelerated past him in a blast of air, runningfaster than he could see and covering the distance at twice hisspeed. With their passing, streetlights exploded into flamesand glow lights above doors flared. Previously invisible runeson doors and wi ndows shone out as alarms re spo nded vi o lent ‐ly. A glass window of a store cracked around the runes beforethe en tire wi ndow ex plod ed into the depths of the build ing.
Even with them out of sight, he could easily follow theirwake. Now there were fires on both sides of the road and the
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screams of outrage and anger echoed shrilly against the stonewalls.
He caught up to the three of them in less than a minute. Thetwo women’s paths ended by two gouges that tore up pavingstones and cracked a gut ter.
Nifùni stood at the entrance of an alley between two three-story buildings. He clutched the edge of the bricks until hisknuck les matched his pale face.
Both women were yelling at him at the top of their lungs.Garbage and papers swirled around all of them from the dyingre mains of the wind of Ma pábyo and Byo chí na’s speed.
Byochína punched his shoulder with every sentence, thesteady impact keeping up with the rapid-fire questions thatgave Ni fùni no chance to re spond.
Around the three, there were city folk watching with furiousex pres sions. Signs of re so nance dam age were every where, in ‐cluding magenta sparks that poured out of a sign across thestreet and burn ing bricks along one si de walk.
Rutejìmo paled and then stopped next to them. “Further inthe al ley. Let’s not at tract any more at ten tion.”
“What did you do!?” Byo chí na was scre a ming, her eyes fla ‐shing and her hands balled into fists.
“In the al ley!” snapped Ru te jìmo be fore shov ing his wife fur ‐ther in. “Now!”
Mapábyo glared at him but then pushed Nifùni before heras Ru te jìmo forced her out of the open.
Nifùni stumbled back, clutching the Kosòbyo woman’s bonecase to his chest. His mouth was open to speak, but neitherByo chí na or Ma pábyo were giv ing him a chance to say any ‐thing.
Rutejìmo focused on getting them further into the darkness,shov ing more fran ti cal ly with every pass ing sec ond. He ex pect ‐ed glares or resistance, but they were both focused on beratingNi fùni.
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He managed to get them to a junction where two alleys metin the ce nter of the block. Piles of garbage ob scured the four o ‐pe nings lead ing out, but he could see the street in each di rec ‐tion. The smell of urine and rot was overpowering, but at leastthe walls and trash would mute their voic es.
“We vot ed!” screamed Byo chí na.“It was a ma jor i ty!” con ti nued Ma pábyo.“You went a gainst every thing!”“What was in your moon-damned—”“Sun-dazed—”“Blast ed—”Knowing that neither would stop, Rutejìmo tried to speak
up. “Please, let’s be qu iet—”But both women con ti nued to scream at Ni fùni who was pi ‐
nned against a crumbling brick corner and shuddering withevery sho uted word.
Rutejìmo looked around, nervous that someone would beattracted to their yelling even with the alley to shield them. Hetried to rest a hand on Mapábyo’s shoulder, but she batted himaway.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped in front of Nifùni andspun a ro und to face the two women.
Ma pábyo tried to shove him to the side, but Byo chí na’s at ‐tempt to move him came from the other direction. The slapacross his eye hurt as much as the punch impacting his ribs.He felt one crack, but it was hard to see which one caused thein jury through the sparks that flo ated across his vi sion.
Both women froze, the outrage on their face turning toshock.
“P-Please,” he gro aned as his rib throbbed, “qu iet down.”“J-Jìmo?” whis pered Ma pábyo. “I-I didn’t mean—”“Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo, please for give—”Rutejìmo held up his hands as the last of the sparks faded
from his vision. “I don’t yell as loudly as Desòchu, and I know I
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have no authority, but we need to stop attracting attention.And that means not yelling.” He glared over his shoulder.“Even if he may de serve it.”
Mapábyo and Byochína ducked their heads. “Sorry, GreatShi mu sogo Ru te jìmo.”
Ru te jìmo turned a ro und. “Ni fùni, did you ac cept that job?”Nifùni, his eyes wide and his body shaking, nodded. “I… I
thought it was going to be a simple run. And then I could justsur prise eve ry one.”
“What hap pened?”“I saw her w-when Chína was… was in the store.” Tears ran
down Ni fùni’s cheek. “And I thought I could just take her mon ‐ey and th-this…” He held out the bone case but Rutejìmo didn’ttake it.
“And the mon ey?”Nifùni dug into his pocket and pulled out a blood-stained
roll of pyābi.Be hind Ru te jìmo, Ma pábyo let out a gasp. “You killed her?”“No! No, I swear, I didn’t. She said the message needed to be
taken to someone who could defend themselves. Someone ranup and punched her chest. I saw a snake or something flashby, like Shi-Shimusògo does, and then she started bleedingfrom her eyes.”
Ru te jìmo’s blood ran cold at the sob bing words.“I-I ran,” sobbed Ni fùni. “I didn’t know what to do.”Be hind him, nei ther of the women said any thing.Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Rutejìmo forced the
words out as calmly as he could. “We need to either go to theguards or run. That woman was a Ko sòbyo.”
“B-but,” Nifùni sobbed through his tears, “the man whopunched her was a Kosòbyo also. I saw the colors and thesnake. There is only one snake spir it in town.”
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“He’s right,” said Dimóryo from behind Rutejìmo, “they wereboth Kosòbyo, but she was a traitor.” Her voice was low andthre a te ning.
Rutejìmo jumped and then turned to look at the guard. Theeasy smile he saw the night before had disappeared. Goldenenergy ran along her fists as she stepped into the alley. Sparksdripped from her knuckles, sizzling on the ground as shepaced closer. He could also see spectral fangs peeking out fromher lips.
His breath locked in his throat. Glancing to the side, he sawan oth er of the guards ap pro a ching one of the oth er al ley en ‐trances. Like Di móryo, his hands glowed with the same drip ‐ping en er gy, but no fangs were vis i ble.
Ma pábyo dropped her hand to the long dag ger at her side.Rutejìmo stopped her with a shake of his head. “This isn’t a
fight yet.”Behind him, he heard someone else trying to sneak up. He
barely heard the scuff of boots over the heavy breathing fromeve ry one’s yelling. There were three in Di móryo’s group. Me ‐ntally he tried to plan his route down the fourth alley andspread his hands to start guid ing the oth ers to ward it.
“We need you to surrender, Shimusogo Rutejìmo.” Dimóryocontinued to stalk forward. Her hands continued to drip acidicmagic, and he knew why she had no weapons. She was ahand-to-hand fighter, a relatively rare talent in the westernside of the desert. He guessed that Kosòbyo’s talents grantedpoisonous touch from Nifùni’s description and the woman’scorpse.
His hand slapped against Byochína. She tensed when hetouched her, but he smacked her hard without looking back.After a moment, she stepped into the alley he wanted them togo down and backed away faster.
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“We have not o pened the case, Great Ko sobyo Di móryo.” Ru ‐tejìmo was surprised by his own calm voice though he wasscre a ming in side. “We are co uri ers and noth ing more.”
Di móryo stepped over a cracked buck et and through a pud ‐dle. Her dark hair fluttered around her back from the goldenen er gy ris ing off her fo rearms. “You ac cept ed the con tract.”
“It was a mis take.”“Yes, but the deal was made. You talked to Techyomása. You
know that some thing is happe ning. That makes you a threat.”“We are no threats.” Rutejìmo shoved his wife back into the
alley but kept his eyes on the guards who pressed forward. Hecould smell the acidic energy wafting down the alleys, fillingthe air with a stench that over po wered the urine and foul ness.
“You are westerners. You don’t understand when to besilent. You don’t know the real sto ry.”
Rutejìmo glanced around to make sure the others wereclose to him. Sweat dripped down his face, and his heart po u ‐nded in his chest. It felt like the mo ments just be fore some bri ‐gand tried to kill him. “What are you go ing to do?”
She clenched her hands into fists, and a large glob of energyfell to the ground. It struck the ground and began to smoke. Aheartbeat later, there was nothing but a hole. “You are a threatto Ko sòbyo.”
Di móryo charged for ward and the ten sion snapped.“Down the alley!” snapped Rutejìmo as he drew his tazágu.
The fighting spike was a long weapon in a narrow alley, but itwas his only de fense. He man aged to shove it into po si tion be ‐fore Di móryo’s fist came for him.
The im pact shook him to the bone, and the tip of his we ‐apon scraped against the side of the alley. A splash of acidicmagic splattered around the weapon, searing his face andshoul ders.
“Jìmo!” screamed Ma pábyo.“Back!” he yelled, un able to look to see if they lis tened.
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Di móryo swung with her oth er hand, an up per cut.He managed to rotate his weapon to catch it. The impact
drove him back a gain, and the hilt scraped a gainst the op po ‐site side of the alley. He jammed it into place to stop her, butthen had to yank it from the wall to par ry an oth er at tack.
She kicked at him, but he caught it with his shin. Over adecade of running left his leg as solid as stone and shebounced from the im pact.
Be hind Di móryo, both the oth er guards were ru n ning to ‐ward the ends of their al leys.
Ru te jìmo yelled with out lo o king back. “Get clear of this al ‐ley, they are co ming a ro und!”
Dimóryo yelled her own orders, using unfamiliar words andnumbers. Her attacks didn’t slow. She pummeled at Rutejìmo,striking his weapon as he frantically twisted it to parry eachblow.
One of her strikes missed him and slammed into the brickwall. It left her side open for an attack, but Rutejìmo used therespite to back away from her.
She frowned and twisted her wrist. Shards of brick flewevery where as she ya nked it free and charged for ward.
Ru te jìmo fo cused on de fend ing him self, par ry ing as her at ‐tacks came fast and hard. His opponent didn’t have the speedof Desòchu or Chi mípu, but the sle nder war rior was far stro ‐nger than she lo oked. He could bare ly keep up with her re lent ‐less at tacks.
And then he missed. Her fist came underneath his weaponand caught him right in the chest, a sol id strike a gainst his ster ‐num. The energy of the attack threw him off his feet. He shotback wards out of the al ley and across the street.
“Jìmo!” screamed Ma pábyo as he flew past her.He la nded on the far side of the street and rolled back ‐
wards. The far gut ter caught his shoul der and flipped him be ‐fore he smacked into the glass front of a store. The window
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shattered around him and rained down. Glass sliced his skinleav ing shal low cuts.
Mapábyo’s scream didn’t end. It continued to rise into thehigh pitch of a bird in agony. He managed to get to his feet as aflash of golden power burst out from her. It resonated insidehim, and he felt the urge to scream just like her, to call for Shi ‐musògo for help. He knew the warriors had the ability to callfor the en tire clan, but he had nev er heard of a non-war rior us ‐ing the spir it to scream.
Di móryo ran out of the al ley. “It’s a call! Si lence her!”Rutejìmo scrambled to his feet, desperate to defend his wife
before the Kosòbyo warrior reached her. He cut his hand onthe glass and tripped on a massive wheel of cheese to get outof the wreckage. He could see more large rinds around him,much of it with glass stick ing out of the wax.
He stumbled out of the store with his weapon in one hand.When he saw Mapábyo frantically defending against Dimóryo,his heart almost stopped. There were already burns on her faceand arms from the warrior’s attack. She sobbed as she tried toblock the attacks, but she couldn’t keep up with the rapid-firehamme ring.
She was also still scre a ming, the high-pitched scream echo ‐ing in his head as much as his ears.
Be hind her, Ni fùni and Byo chí na fought their own oppo ‐nents. They were scorched by the acid mag ic, but their oppo ‐nents were marked with bleed ing cuts also.
Dimóryo jerked forward and kicked out, catching Mapábyoin the pubic bone. Before Mapábyo hit the ground, the warriorjumped up and clasped her hands together to bring it down onMa pábyo’s head.
“Jìmo!” screamed Ma pábyo.“Pábyo!” Ru te jìmo spri nted for ward us ing a burst of Shi mu ‐
sògo’s power to cover the distance. He caught the blow againsthis shoulder. The impact drove him down to his knee as the
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acidic magic splashed against his back. He felt somethingcrack from the blow, but he used his fading strength to pushback and swing his ta zágu a ro und.
The tip of the fight ing spike swung a ro und be fore he re al ‐ized that Dimóryo was further back than he thought. Thesharp tip was poised to slice through her neck. With a grunt,he ya nked it back, spoil ing the blow but leav ing his side open.
Di móryo’s fist ham mered into his ribs, and the world ex plod ‐ed into pain as his lungs were force ful ly emp tied. She struck a ‐gain and a gain be fore he could yank back from her at tack.
Rutejìmo gasped for air, his vision blurring. Acid burned athis chest and he could smell his clothes burn ing.
“Why did you pull that blow, West ern er?” hissed Di móryo.Ru te jìmo shook his head.Byo chí na let out a scream of pain.Rutejìmo almost looked but he caught Dimóryo tensing. He
held himself still and tried not to think about the searingagony in his side, his ragged breathing, or the sweat drippingdown his face.
The war rior straight ened. She wasn’t even wi nded by her at ‐tacks. “Who ever heard of a ko ji nōmi who re fused to kill?”
“The desert kills enough, she doesn’t need me to add to hertal ly.”
Any response she would have given was interrupted whentwo flaming disks sliced through the air between Rutejìmo andDi móryo. A thump of an ex plo sion slammed into him, fol ‐lowed by two mut ed screams.
Rutejìmo reflexively followed the shots with his gaze, toolate to see the im pact, but both Byo chí na’s and Ni fùni’s oppo ‐nents had been thrown chains away by the im pact of the fight ‐ing bolas. He spotted Shimusògo’s name on one of weights asit burned away.
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He turned back just as Chimípu stopped in front of him, herbody vibrating with the sudden stop. Her weapon, a longsword, glowed with gold en flames as she faced Di móryo.
En er gy cracked a ro und her and Desòchu. Mul ti col ored en er ‐gy arced along the ground, tracing the gaps between thepaving stones as it reached to the nearest artifacts. Streetlights,windows, and doors exploded from the violent response to theforeign resonance of the Shimusògo warriors. Two buildingsbe gan to smol der and a flicke ring light flashed from the i n te ‐rior of one store as some thing in side be gan to short.
A blast of wind slammed into them. Expecting it, Rutejìmobraced him self but Di móryo stum bled slight ly.
Desòchu came to a stop on his knees next to Rutejìmo. Evenbefore the blast of wind passed, he was ripping the burningshirt from Ru te jìmo and toss ing it aside. “What hap pened?”
Rutejìmo gasped and looked at the others. “We need to run.Now.”
His broth er lo oked at him hard, then nod ded. He pulled Ru ‐tejìmo up to his feet. Stepping back, he looked around with themus cles of his body taut. “Chi mípu, take the rear.”
Chimípu’s response came as the golden flames burst alongher body, tracing every line of her form and igniting into a haloof power. A translucent dépa superimposed itself over her asshe clenched her body.
Desòchu raced over to Nifùni and Byochína who were bothstaggering toward each other. He grabbed their shoulders andforcibly turned them so they were fac ing Ru te jìmo.
Ru te jìmo lo oked away to help his wife to her feet.Ma pábyo squ e ezed him tight ly. “Are you okay?”Ru te jìmo start ed to an swer, but then Desòchu raced past.“Fol low!” yelled his broth er.Dimóryo’s fist crashed against Chimípu’s sword. Flashes of
golden power burst away from each impact of steel againstbare hand, a concussive wave exploded out, tearing up paving
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stones as it expanded. The rapid blows buffeted Rutejìmo, likesomeone smacking him with an invisible hand. The stench ofacid and burn ing hair filled the air.
Rutejìmo turned away from the fight and raced after hisbrother, trailing behind the others. Desòchu wasn’t leadingthem out of the city but along a route cleared by Chimípu’s andhis pass ing. Com pared to the dam age that Ma pábyo and Byo ‐chí na left, the two war riors had cre at ed a wide swath of de ‐struc tion. En tire build ings had caught on fire, the stones al ‐ready melt ing from the feed back dam age. There wasn’t a sin ‐gle i ntact wi ndow or stand ing stall.
The crowds that had normally filled the roads were gone,leaving a straight path to the edge of the city. However, groupsof guards in Kosòbyo colors rushed past the burning buildingsand into the wreckage. At first there was only a few warriorsbut more streamed in from both sides of the road until therewere hundreds. Most of them appeared to be unarmed buttheir hands glowed with flames. He had no doubt that theyshared Di móryo’s acid mag ic.
At the fur thest edges of the city, a pair of mas sive me chan i ‐cal snakes burst through the roofs of two buildings. The brassshells of the snakes shone in the sun light as they rose two sto ‐ries above the buildings that housed them. Hunks of wood andchucks of rock bounced off the bod ies.
To both sides, Rutejìmo saw more snakes rising out of thebuild ings.
Desòchu ac cele rat ed a head of the oth ers, far faster than any ‐one else could run.
Rutejìmo stumbled in shock and then tripped on a pavingstone. He fell face first, but his speed flipped him over.The im ‐pact against the ground drove the air out of his lungs. Hescrambled back to his feet and forced himself to take a deepbreath while lo o king back at his broth er.
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Desòchu tore a large paving stone out of the ground. Thesurrounding stones cracked from the impact. He straightenedinto a spin, whirling the stone around until it ignited into adisk of flames.
He fired it toward the nearest group of Kosòbyo warriors.The burning shot left ripples in the air. Desòchu scooped uptwo more rocks and fired them be fore the first one hit.
One of the warriors stepped into the path of the flamingstone and planted her feet. Her hands increased in brillianceuntil golden waves spread out from her palms. The light wasblind ing.
Desòchu’s three shots slammed into her and ex plod ed a ‐gainst the waves.
More war riors con ti nued to pour in from the side streets, in ‐cluding a group of five only a block away from Rutejìmo. Heheard their calls as they start ed to run to ward him.
Ru te jìmo gasped and turned back just as one of the me ‐chan i cal snakes slith ered into the street and start ed to work to ‐ward them. Fire dripped from its mouth, and a cloud of steampo ured out from vents along its spine.
Desòchu picked up another rock and spun it around to fireit. As the stone became a glowing disk of flames, a vortex ofpower rose above him. Papers and glass blew away from him,cle a ring the gro und at his feet.
When he released it, it wasn’t toward the Kosòbyo warriorsor the mechanical snakes. Instead, he fired it back down thestreet, past Ru te jìmo and to ward Di móryo. It ig nit ed into gold ‐en flames and expanded into a sphere of pure power thatsucked pa pers and small items in its wake.
Rutejìmo spun around before it passed and braced himself.The passing shot tore at his skin, ripping the remains of hisshirt off. It arched over him al most too fast to be seen.
Chimípu, her body a blur as she fought three opponents,came to a sudden stop just as Desòchu’s shot reached her. As if
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she plucked something from the ground, she grabbed it mid-flight and threw herself into a spin on one foot. The groundun der neath her cracked as a tor na do burst out of her move ‐ment, spinning high in the air with a spiral of golden feathersand flames.
The force of the blast knocked Di móryo and the oth er Ko ‐sòbyo war riors back.
Ma ge nta light ning bolts traced along the gro und from Chi ‐mípu’s body, shattering stone as her power rose. Any artifactsin the area had long since disintegrated, and the lightningraced for the near by war riors, burn ing them as it arced be ‐tween their bod ies. The glow along their hands flared in re spo ‐nse, adding to the light ning crack ling be tween the four war ‐riors.
The spinning disk continued to grow more intense until itwas as blind ing as the sun. Stones were ripped from the gro ‐und and spiraled around her, clipping Dimóryo as they blewpast.
The Kosòbyo warrior staggered back, blood painted on herface.
Chi mípu re leased the rock. It shot back down the street to ‐ward Desòchu and the gathering Kosòbyo warriors. It was lowto the ground, but its speed tore up the street, pulling a cloudof bro ken glass, rocks, and de bris into a spear.
Rutejìmo saw it coming but there was no way he couldbrace him self. He ducked his head and tensed.
The pres sure wave crushed him a gainst the rocks and ya ‐nked him off the ground. He was sucked after the sphere ofbril li ance as it rock et ed down the street. It de stroyed every ‐thing on both sides in a wave of pow er.
Rutejìmo screamed as he was tossed into the air, pummeledfrom all di rec tions. He tried to find the gro und, but he was spi n ‐ning around too fast to orient himself. The impact could killhim, but he couldn’t stop scre a ming.
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Chimípu’s hands caught him and yanked him down theroad after the blast. There was nothing but a smooth trenchwhere one of the main streets of Ko sobyo City used to be.
Rutejìmo tried to catch the ground, but Chimípu’s speedwas too fast. The earth was a blur underneath him and hecouldn’t sprint fast enough. Instead, he flailed helplessly asshe pulled him aft er her shot.
A blast of heat slammed into him as they raced through awall of fire but it was gone before it could do more than suckthe mois ture from the back of his throat.
They passed Desòchu who had just gotten the others backto their feet. A heart beat lat er, they were rac ing aft er him.
Humiliation flashed through Rutejìmo. He couldn’t keep up,he was being dragged. He knew that he would slow themdown, but it didn’t help that he was be ing pulled along by Chi ‐mípu’s tight grip.
They passed through the wreckage of the Kosobyo warriors.One of the mechanical snakes laid across three buildings, thebrass edges melted from the impact of Chimípu’s blast. Theoth er snake was miss ing its head.
Then they were past the car nage and out of the city.
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Chapter 15
Banyosiōu
The cast outs, or banyosiōu, is the highest punishment an elder of the clancan in flict. It de clares the reci pi ent dead to the clan and to so ci ety. Few sur ‐vive the first week.
—Tin sil de Po lis da Ka ndor, SandsoftheDead
i fùni flew back from Desòchu’s punch. He landed on hisback a gainst a sheet of rocks that hid the Shi mu sògo from any ‐one in the city. With a groan, he tried to get up but then fellback. His hand slipped and left a smear of blood across thewhite rocks.
“You could have killed us!” bellowed Desòchu as he stormedafter Nifùni. His body burned with flames that seared therocks. He grabbed Ni fùni’s shirt and ya nked him from the gro ‐und. The following punch that caught Nifùni in the gut sent ashud der cours ing through Ru te jìmo’s body.
Ni fùni flew back a gain, land ing on a scree of grav el. He gro ‐aned and tried to get up. Blood ran down his chin and throat.More of it was splat tered on the rocks.
Rutejìmo looked at the others. They were all covered inburns, blood, and dust. None of them were making any effortto stop Desòchu’s beat ing.
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Chimípu’s lips twisted in a snarl of anger. If Desòchu wasn’ther senior, it would have been her beating Nifùni within aninch of his life for what he did.
Looking back, Rutejìmo caught Nifùni looking at him. Therewas a desperate pleading in the younger man’s eyes, a sorrowthat scraped along Rutejìmo’s own memories. Five years ago,he had been in Nifùni’s place, praying someone would stop thebeat ing from Desòchu. Then, Ru te jìmo had ru ined the Shi mu ‐sògo’s reputation by spending a night with his first shikāfu, awar rior of the night clan named Mi káryo.
The memory sickened Rutejìmo, and he wanted to lookaway. He had suff ered more than any one else from Ni fùni’s be ‐trayal. Burns covered his arms, chest, and face. At least two ofhis ribs were cracked, and the tight bandage over his chestmade it difficult to breathe. But, even with his injuries, hesilent ly prayed Desòchu would stop.
His older brother stormed over and grabbed Nifùni aroundthe throat. The light flaring around his body grew brighter ashe easily hauled the flailing man from the ground. Desòchushook him hard and then threw him back toward Chimípu andthe oth ers.
Byo chí na and Ma pábyo stepped away with out say ing any ‐thing.
Ni fùni sobbed as he lo oked up at Chi mípu.At the sight, tears gath ered in Ru te jìmo’s eyes.Chimípu kicked him in the shoulder, a flash of power giving
her the strength to flip him over.The thud dislodged more rocks, and Rutejìmo bit back a sob
of his own.“P-Please?” Nifùni spat out a tooth. “I didn’t mean for any of
this.”Desòchu grabbed him with both hands and yanked him off
the ground. “We can never come back to this city because of
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what you did! You have ru ined the Shi mu sògo name for the en ‐tire East ern Desert!”
Ni fùni’s legs flailed back and forth as Desòchu shook him.“More im por tant ly, you be trayed the clan! We made a de ci ‐
sion! We voted! And you—” Desòchu shook harder “—arebound by that!”
Nifùni’s sobs and whimpers were punctuated by the impactof his chin hit ting his chest or his head be ing thrown back.
Desòchu released his right arm, pulled back, and punchedNi fùni un der neath the chin.
The yo u nger man flew back.A crack rumbled around them, disturbing the dust and
sand.Ru te jìmo tensed be fore the im pact.Nifùni hit the ground a rod away with a meaty thud and a
wail of agony.Slamming his foot down, Desòchu took a deep breath. “I am
Desòchu, and I speak for Shi mu sògo.”Rutejìmo’s breath stopped in his throat. Years ago, Desòchu
had cast him out of the clan for a year. He had been declareddead by the clans and became a banyosiōu, an outcast treatedas one of the dead. In the year that fol lowed, Ru te jìmo had al ‐most died in the desert, lost a child, watched one of his friendsdie.
Frantic, he looked at the others, but he only saw the sameex pres sions as he had that day. Ma pábyo was cry ing, but nei ‐ther she nor Byo chí na moved. Chi mípu stood be hind them, a ‐nger naked on her face.
“No!”The word left of Ru te jìmo’s mouth be fore he re al ized it.Si lence.Desòchu looked at him. “What?” The flames grew brighter
a ro und his body.
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Gathering his courage, Rutejìmo stepped forward. “No, donot fin ish that se n tence. You can not.”
Ma pábyo gasped. “Jìmo, no, don’t do this—”“You can’t stop me.” His brother turned away from Nifùni.
“This is my right. I speak for Shi mu sògo.”“Great Shimusogo Desòchu, please.” Rutejìmo held up his
hands. “We need him.”“He could have killed us.”“And we can deal with that later. But right now, there are
only six of us, and we have no—” Rutejìmo stepped forwardwith his hands still out. “—al lies in this part of the desert.”
“I will not ac cept what he did!” bel lowed Desòchu.“I cannot let you do this!” Tears ran down Rutejìmo’s cheek.
He balled his hands into fists knowing that he couldn’t stop hisbroth er.
Desòchu’s face twisted in a snarl. “I am Desòchu, and Ispeak for Shimusògo, not you!” His voice echoed against thestone ridges a ro und them.
Ru te jìmo o pened his mouth, he didn’t have any au thor i ty a ‐gainst an elder. He couldn’t stop his brother. He closed hismouth for a moment, the despair rising inside him much likethe wind blowing around his feet. He let out a sob of his ownand ducked his head.
There was a long pause.He stared at the ground, watching the sand rolling over his
feet. A shard of glass still stuck in his sole, caught in the thickcallous that years of running barefooted had provided. Hedidn’t feel it, but there was a smear of blood on the end.
Rutejìmo looked back up, fighting with the pressing need tostop his broth er.
Desòchu’s feet crunched as he turned back to Nifùni. “I amDesòchu, and I speak for—”
Ru te jìmo had to speak; he could not let Ni fùni die. Whis ‐pers in the back of his head grew louder, demanding that he
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speak. He rele nted, de spite every thing else that told him to re ‐main silent. “I am Ru te jìmo, and I speak for Mi fúno.”
A blast of wind tore through the shelter, kicking up rocksand sands. It pum meled a gainst their bod ies. The flames a ro ‐und Desòchu and Chimípu wavered with the air, somethingthat Ru te jìmo had nev er seen hap pen, and then snuffed out.
Chi mípu gasped and lo oked up.Words whispered in the back of his head, too quiet to hear
clearly but he could feel the intent. He had to keep speaking,and when he did, the words formed on his lips “I will not allowyou to do this, Great Shimusogo Desòchu. We need him now,but he will pay for what he did. No matter what, no matterhow, the desert will take her price for his ac tions.”
Desòchu turned back at him, but there was no anger on hisface. Just a stu nned shock. “Ru te jìmo? What did you—”
The force that drove him to speak poured out of him andthe wind died down. In the stunned silence that followed, helis tened to the hiss of sand falling and the clinks of rocks stri ‐king the gro und.
He tried to take a deep breath, but he felt like he was breath ‐ing through canvas. A tightness gripped his chest, squeezingdown as the world spun around him. He opened his mouth totry breathing harder, but he couldn’t force the air into his lungsfast e nough.
Lo o king up, he stared at his broth er. The flames had re ‐turned a ro und Desòchu’s body, but they were thin and translu ‐cent.
“I-I,” he exhaled as white spots swam across his vision, “I…can’t… breathe.”
And then he was falling. He closed his eyes as the darknessswal lowed him.
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Chapter 16
A Second Wind
Very few can speak for Mifúno, the desert spirit. She does not tolerate hername used for anything and death usually follows as soon as the wordspass a fool’s lips.
—Ko sobyo Fi do kùki
u te jìmo groaned as he crawled out of unconsciousness.Every breath and twitch became agony as he fought thedreams of oblivion. He tried to reach out for the ground, to dighis fingernail in to pull him out of the hole, but instead hispalms slapped a gainst so me one’s hand.
Fi ngers tight ened a ro und him and held him in place, com ‐fort ing and strong.
“Jìmo,” someone whispered. He knew the speaker but theirname re fused to come to his thoughts.
He gasped for air, thankful when the icy coolness sank intohis lungs. It helped clear his thoughts and he rememberedhow to open his eyes. Cracking one and then the other, hestared into the incomprehensible world and tried to rememberhow to see.
Images came slowly into focus, first the stars in the sky andthen a woman with black skin who bent over his body. There
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were others watching him, men and women. They were bloodyand burned, but they were his.
Their names came to him and his thoughts settled back intoplace, but he felt raw and emp ty. “P-Pábyo… Chi mípu.” He gro ‐aned and they helped him sit up. Everything wavered for amoment. For the briefest moment, in the space between twoblinks, he saw their bodies as thin and translucent. But, whenhe blinked again, they were once again the familiar people hegrew up with.
He gulped and Byochína pressed a water skin into hishands. He brought it to his lips, each movement as raw as achild’s. He gulped and the warmed liquid ran down his throatto ease the dry ness.
When he fin ished, he pulled it away. “W-What hap pened?”“You passed out,” Chimípu said with a smile, “right after you
man aged to sur prise us all.”“Did Desòchu hit me? I was disagreeing with him, right? W…
Why was I?”Desòchu knelt at Rutejìmo’s feet, a strained smiled on his
face, looking more like a teenager who had just been caught byone of the elders. “No. And after what you just did, I don’tthink I could ever hit you a gain.”
Rutejìmo held Mapábyo’s hand and wiped his face with hisother. A smear of dried blood darkened his palm, and hestared at it. “Re mind me not to do that a gain.”
Raising an eyebrow, Desòchu said, “You mean, you shouldnev er dis agree with me?”
Still staring at the blood on his hand, Rutejìmo shook hishead. “No, letting my brother open his mouth.” He glanced up,afraid that he had so mehow said some thing wrong.
Desòchu chuckled and patted Rutejìmo’s knee. “You did theright thing, lit tle broth er.”
Ru te jìmo lo oked a ro und. “Where is Ni fùni?”
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“Safe,” said Desòchu as he stood up. He walked away andChimípu and Byochína joined him as they sat down around asmall al chem i cal fire and a pair of blue glow lights.
The rocks crunched as Nifùni came up from the darkness.His head was bowed as he knelt next to Ru te jìmo. “Great Mi ‐funo Ru te jìmo, I—”
“Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo.”Ni fùni lo oked up. “What?”“I am Shi mu sògo.”“You are also Mi fúno, and you saved my life.”Rutejìmo felt a pang of sadness. “No, no, I didn’t.” He held
out his hand and rested it on Nifùni’s shoulder. “Your body isstill moving, and you still breathe, but you have already beenkilled. Mifúno’s attention has a price, and,” he thought aboutthe warrior who he cast out, “it isn’t a pleasant one. We willmake it home, but… it would be best if you come to peace withthe fact that she will take what is hers.”
Ni fùni sniffed, and a tear splashed down. “I didn’t mean it.”Rutejìmo pulled him into a hug. “Neither did I, but it still
hap pened.”Ni fùni held him tight as sobs tore through his frame.The pres sure on his cuts and burns hurt, but Ru te jìmo re ma ‐
ined silent as he comforted Nifùni. The young man had a direfuture for his life and scratches seemed like the least of eitherof their prob lems.
Mapábyo got up and joined the others, leaving the twoalone.
After a few short minutes, the tears stopped, and Nifùnipulled back. “I’m sor ry, Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo.”
To geth er, they got up and he aded to the flames. Sit ting heav ‐ily next to Mapábyo, Rutejìmo took an offered piece of cookedmeat and chewed on it.
Desòchu let out a long sigh. “We need to know what to do.”“Run home?” asked Chi mípu.
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“Maybe, but from what?” he said. “Are we just fleeing theKo sòbyo? Or is this some thing big ger?”
Ma pábyo spoke up. “The case?”Desòchu nod ded. “I think we should open it.”Sharply i nhaled breaths an swered him.“I know we don’t ever look at the message, but they almost
killed us, and we just left a large, smoking hole in the center oftown. So, if this is a trivial note, then we need to go back andoffer our throats in forgiveness. If it isn’t, we may be runningfaster than ever.”
No one said any thing for over a minute.Ru te jìmo cle ared his throat. “We vote? I say open it.”“O pen it.”“O pen it.”The others chimed in. When silence draped across them
once again, Desòchu nodded. “Then we open it.” He pulled thebone case into his lap and broke the seal with his knife. Hetwist ed it open, ke e ping the end a imed to ward his lap.
Coils of paper slid out. They were different types and colors,some aged and some crisp with new ness. All of them were cov ‐ered in writ ing, cor re spo n dence, and di a grams.
Desòchu frowned as he lo oked at the pa pers.“Good thing,” Rutejìmo said, “that Pidòhu taught all of us to
read.”It was a poor joke, and only Ma pábyo gave a ner vous chuck ‐
le.Desòchu passed around the papers. “Start reading, just scan
over things. We need to fig ure out what this is a bout.”Rutejìmo’s papers were old, and the edges crumbled when
he touched them. He ca re ful ly puz zled through them, strug ‐gling with the unfamiliar way the eastern clans wrote theirwords. The first was a let ter writ ten in a rough hand of so me ‐one barely able to write, a Kosobyo Mioráshi. It talked aboutthe birth of her daugh ter, Ka néko.
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A few pages later, there was another letter from Mioráshi.Her daugh ter had shown no signs of Ko sòbyo’s pow er. The re ‐sponse was copied in a letter, ordering that Mioráshi let hernorthern husband take the daughter and train her. Rutejìmofelt sick to his stomach, the idea of a desert woman matingwith a north ern er dis gust ed him. It spat on the face of the spir ‐its.
“What is a gyotochizōmi?” asked Byochína, “I don’t knowthat word.”
Ru te jìmo frowned and pe ered at her. “Is it like a chyo techizō ‐mi, a dra gon spir it?”
“Here,” Ma pábyo held out a page to Ru te jìmo. “This is Pi ko ‐mìro’s legend, isn’t it? When he trapped the zōmi in the Wind’sTeeth and then thre a tened the en tire desert with it?”
“Yeah, that’s the legend.” Rutejìmo frowned and took thepage. “But they call it a gyotochizōmi here. They are probablythe same thing.”
“But there are no more chyo techizō mi left in the world.” Ni ‐fùni lo oked pale as he held his pages in a sha king hand.
Desòchu cleared his throat and held up a page filled withdense, neat writ ing. “Not ac cord ing to this. Some Ko sobyo Ka ‐néko is allied with a chyotechizōmi and they are luring it toKo sobyo City to cap ture it.”
“But,” Nifùni said, “Tachìra forbids the zōmi souls. After theWind Teeth, he and Mifúno,” he glanced at Rutejìmo, “declaredthat no sand would ever bind one a gain.”
Chi mípu held out a page. “But Cho bìre didn’t. These are let ‐ters to the south ern smiths of the night, ask ing for help.”
“That can’t be.” Desòchu shook his head firm ly. “The Ko ‐sòbyo are the bastions of light. They are one of the greatestclans of Tachìra. They would never ally themselves with thenight, nev er. That’s why they have a month named aft er them!”
“Hizogōma turned to the night,” added Rutejìmo. It was oneof the legends that all of them had grown up listening over the
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fires. When one of Ta chìra’s sta un chest al lies turned to their e ‐nemies and betrayed everything, it had started a war thatkilled millions. He sighed and set down his papers. “If this istrue, then this would be a greater blow against the sun. If theycan tap into the power of zōmi, then they would become greatal lies of the night.”
“It would be a war,” whis pered Ma pábyo.“No,” Chi mípu said, “it would be a slaugh ter. When Hizo ‐
gōma became the night, it set off a war that burned this desertfor a decade. But, if Kosòbyo could do it before anyone couldstop them, and they had the chyotechizōmi’s power, then therewould be no one stopping them. They are already the mostpow er ful clan in the desert.”
No one said any thing.The tension grew until Rutejìmo had to break it. “What if
we’re wrong? What if we tell everyone this and these are alllies?”
Desòchu lo oked at him. “Then Ko sòbyo will wipe Shi mu ‐sògo from existence. If we are lucky, it will be only a slowdeath. But the Feath ered Snake has not been known for for give ‐ness or mercy. You’ve seen how they responded to us and tothis.” He held up the case.
Rutejìmo swallowed and nodded. “What do we do? Do wevote?”
“No,” Desòchu said. “This would risk all of Shimusògo. Wesix can’t make this choice. Not for our families, our children,and our home.”
The others nodded, and there was the glistening of tears inthe blue light from the glow spheres.
He cle ared his throat. “We have to bring it home. Let eve ry ‐one de cide, let eve ry one vote. And then we fol low that de ci ‐sion.”
Ru te jìmo spoke up. “Whether this is a lie or the truth, Ko ‐sòbyo is go ing to do every thing they can to stop us.”
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“Then we run fast.”“I can’t run that fast, Desòchu.” Rutejìmo felt the tears filling
his eyes.Ma pábyo grabbed his hand.“No, I won’t leave you behind.” Desòchu shook his head and
then again. “What if we give everything to Chimípu and sheruns. She is—”
“No,” snapped Chi mípu, “I won’t a ba n don our clan.”Desòchu looked at her with a pleading look. “You are the
fastest ru nner the Shi mu sògo have ever had. If any one de ‐served his power, it is you, and he gave it to you for a reason. Ican’t think of anything more serious than making this delivery,Great Shi mu sogo Chi mípu.”
Tears ran down Chimípu’s face. “But, if I leave you, you maydie.”
Desòchu looked down. “I will die for my clan, and I will fightfor them to the end. Even if it means the five us will perish,this is some thing that must be done.”
“I-I’m,” said Ni fùni, “al ready dead…”There was an uncomfortable silence as Nifùni struggled
with his words.“… but I agree. Send Chimípu, and we will chase after her.
We are slower, but we won’t abandon Rutejìmo. She can comeback for us as soon as the vote is made.”
Chi mípu sniffed and shook her head.A dark re al iza tion came to Ru te jìmo. He dug in his pack, lo o ‐
king for a pair of bags. He found both. One was orange and theother red, Shimusògo’s colors. He also pulled out his votingstones and po ured them into the red bag.
“Jìmo,” start ed Chi mípu, “What are you—”He held up the red bag. “My vote for telling the world.” He
held up the other. “A vote for keeping it a secret. We vote now,and you deliver it. Even if we can’t make it, you will speak forus.”
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“No,” her voice came as a soft wail.“Chimípu, I will not pay you to make this delivery, but I will
ask you to carry these for me and return them when you getback.” It was almost the same thing Pidòhu had told both ofthem when he, Rutejìmo, and Chimípu were trekking acrossthe desert du ring their rite of pas sage.
“Damn you, Rutejìmo. Damn you to the sands.” She got upand came a ro und the flame.
He sniffed and ha nded the bags to Ma pábyo.Chimípu knelt next to Rutejìmo and hugged him tightly. She
pressed her lips to his ear. “Damn you, little brother. I won’t letyou die.”
He smiled and hugged her back. “Then run fast. When thesun ris es, run fast.”
“Shi mu sògo run,” came the bro ken whis per.
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Chapter 17
Splitting Up
No plan sur vives u n touched.—Tarsan proverb
is ing bile woke Ru te jìmo with a start. He clawed at the gro ‐und to pull himself up. Fingers dug into sharp rocks before hehauled himself into a sitting position. Sweat dripped from hisface as he swallowed hard, desperate to avoid vomiting beforehe had even o pened his eyes.
As he gasped for breath, he felt the cold night air prickle hisskin. A warmth radiated along his hips. He cracked open oneeye and pe ered down. At his side, Ma pábyo shiv ered un der ‐neath their shared bedroll. His end of the roll hung on his armand left her ex posed.
He crawled out and ca re ful ly tucked it back a ro und her. Ma ‐pábyo smiled in her sleep and curled up in the bla nkets.
Trembling, Rutejìmo stood up and knuckled the sleep fromhis eyes. It was light, but not quite sunrise. Most of the clanslept in a circle around the fire but Nifùni’s roll had beenmoved about a rod away from the others. Two other rolls,Desòchu’s and Chimípu’s, had been set up, but the fabric wasstill smooth and they lo oked u n touched.
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At the thought of his brother, Rutejìmo inhaled sharply, andthe bile rose again. He had claimed to be one of the Mifúno,spoken as an elder of a clan he had no right to speak for. For allhe knew, there was no one who ever considered the desert tohave a clan. And, to his sur prise, he wasn’t struck dead in stant ‐ly for doing so. He didn’t know what it meant or why he wasstill alive. He only hoped the whispered voices in the back ofhis head were not his imagination, and he didn’t just commitsui cide by sav ing Ni fùni’s life.
He glanced over at the younger man. Nifùni had betrayedthem, putting all their lives at risk. Even though Rutejìmostopped Desòchu from os tra ciz ing him from the clan, Ru te ‐jìmo knew he had only stalled the inevitable. Was he driven tospeak so the clan knew the full extent of the damage inflictedby ac cept ing the con tract?
“Jìmo?” whis pered Chi mípu.Rutejìmo saw her and Desòchu sitting a rod away along the
ridge of the rocky scree. They were facing the desert. He got upand padded over. Coming up to the ridge, he saw movement inthe false dawn and came to a halt. His eyes sca nned the hori ‐zon, picking out black dots swarming along the other dunesand rocks. It took him only a heartbeat to realize the flickeringdidn’t come from the rising heat but from auras and magic.There were war riors across the desert.
“H-How many are there?” he asked.“At least a thousand.” Desòchu muttered. “Five different
clans, maybe more. They’ve been moving since light, probablyset tled in at night aft er it was dark.”
Rutejìmo could see horse riders and clans on mechanicalspiders. Three of the massive snakes with Kosòbyo colors wereslithering a few miles away. Outside of the city, they appearedto be hun dreds of feet long.
Above him, he could see flocks of birds flying straight acrossthe desert. Instead of a cloud or “V” pattern, the birds were
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arranged in an unnatural line that looked more like a searchpat tern than any thing a flock would do on their own.
“Hawk clan of some sort,” Chi mípu said qu iet ly.“At least two of them. But I’m wor ried a bout that,” he po int ‐
ed to Kosobyo City, barely visible along the horizon. Above it asingle black dot sailed around in lazy circles. “Anything that wecan see from this far away has to be large.”
“A clan spir it?”“Or one of Cho bìre’s rap tors.”Rutejìmo shivered at the thought. Tachìra had eight divine
horses that ran the desert to influence his will. Chobìre, themoon spirit, had giant birds that did the same. They were allmounts for the champions of the two spirits in their endlessbat tle over Mi fúno.
He gulped and tore his gaze away from the distant bird.“Shouldn’t we be pan ick ing now?”
Both war riors shook their heads. “We were a bout to get eve ‐ryone up, but we have a half hour before the sun rises. Thoseare all day clans, ex cept maybe the rap tor. None of them will at ‐tack un til Ta chìra wakes.”
“And then Chi mípu will be ru n ning.”Chi mípu ducked her head.Desòchu shook his. “We’ve been talk ing for a while now. Nei ‐
ther one of us thinks that plan will work any more.”“Why not?”“There are at least three speed clans out there and two
jumpers. If Chimípu leaves us, then we either have to scatter toavoid be ing at tacked or bunch up to be slaugh tered.”
Rutejìmo sat down heavily. “Sands.” The rock underneathhim dug into his buttocks, but the despair and frustrationmade it hard to do any thing but look at the two war riors.
“Yes,” Chi mípu gru nted, “I be lieve we’ve both said that. Re ‐pe at ed ly.”
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Rutejìmo looked at her. “Can’t you do that shooting thing?You could….” He almost said “kill” but the word stuck in histhroat.
She shook her head and gestured to the desert. “That onlyworks if they are bunched up. I have one, maybe two of thoseuntil I rest. Everyone is spread out looking for us. There isn’tany group large enough to hit. Maybe one of the Kosòbyosnakes, but I don’t re al ly know what they can do.”
“And if we get down there,” continued Desòchu, “we canpick them off one-by-one, but with that many, it’s just a matterof how many we kill before we’re killed ourselves. No one canstand a gainst an army.”
“But you can break one if you do enough damage.” Chimípusaid.
Desòchu looked at his brother. “So, we’re trying to figure outhow to save everyone. Or at least give us a chance to savesome of us.”
Ru te jìmo’s stom ach twist ed. He knew that so me one was go ‐ing to die, but it was hard to say it. For years he had served theclan by treating the dead, and he imagined he would be therefor the deaths of everyone he knew, but if they scattered, hecouldn’t be there when they ne eded him the most.
He forced his thoughts away from the sudden despair byclearing his throat. “With you and Chimípu protecting us, wecould make it.”
Desòchu nodded and then shrugged. “Yes, but it would alsomake it obvious where we are going, which means they couldset up a trap that even we couldn’t sur vive.”
“You want us to split up,” Ru te jìmo said.Desòchu sighed. “It’s an ugly an swer. Shi mu sògo run to geth ‐
er for a re ason, ex cept when it’s safe. But, we all trav el at diffe ‐rent speeds and if our paths aren’t obvious, maybe one of uscan slip through the net they are spreading out. Easier to catcha rock than a sand storm.”
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Rutejìmo ran his hands along the rocks as he struggled withhis emotions. He could feel their hesitation and fear. Knowingthat one would die was one thing, but there was more. After afew min utes, he re al ized what it was. “I’m the most at risk, a ‐ren’t I?”
Both the war riors nod ded, nei ther of them lo o king at him.“I’m the slow est and not al ways that bright.”Chi mípu shook her head. “Jìmo—”“No, it’s true, Mípu. The only way to give me a chance to get
home in time is to send me in the straightest line, which wouldmake me the eas i est to am bush.”
With a sigh, he returned his gaze down to the rocks. Hepicked one up and rolled it in his palm, struggling with theswelling of emotions. He was going to die. Probably alone inthe mid dle of the desert where no one would lead him to Mi ‐fúno’s em brace.
Rutejìmo almost threw up, but he managed to keep it down.The answer was obvious the moment they mentioned it. But, ittook him a few minutes to quell his fear to let the words out.When he managed to look back up, he could feel the tearsburn ing his eyes. “Let’s tell the oth ers we’re split ting up.”
He caught only a look of re lief and sor row in their eyes be ‐fore he lo oked away.
Ten minutes later, all six of them were standing on the ridgelooking over the gathered clans. There were thousands of themand even from the dis tance, their pow ers were evi dent. Ru te ‐jìmo spotted speed clans racing with clouds of dust and rocks,groups that appeared and disappeared among the sands, andeven archers that seemed to be content to remain along thehigh est ridges de spite noth ing for miles a ro und them.
“W-We can’t do this,” said Mapábyo with tears in her eyes.“We can’t sur vive this.”
“We can if we spread out,” said Desòchu in a low voice, “I’llhave routes for all of you. Just make sure you never tell anyone
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the names and places. Not even each other. There may beclans that can hear from a dis tance.”
“Then how will we know where to go?” asked Nifùni. Hestood a few feet from the oth ers and a step be hind.
Desòchu smiled weakly. “I’ve grown up with all of you.We’ve had so much time to geth er that I can re fe rence a lo ca ‐tion by what happened there, something that only we know.That way, we don’t leave a trail for someone to catch. Nevertalk about it, never say where you are going. Assume someoneis al ways liste ning.”
Rutejìmo felt a prickle along his side. He looked behindthem and around, but saw nothing. Embarrassed, he turnedback a ro und.
“We’ll split up the docu ments a mong all six of us.”Ru te jìmo spoke up. “And one stone each.”“What? Why?” snapped Ni fùni.“Because if one of us makes it, then there will be a vote.
Make your answer clear.” Rutejìmo didn’t want to dwell on there asons they wouldn’t make it back to vote them selves.
Ni fùni shook his head and stepped up. “No, I refuse to…”Rutejìmo felt the prickle again. Ignoring Nifùni’s words, he
turned a ro und and pe ered across the camp site. They had al ‐ready packed their belongings in silence and eaten quickly.Their packs were lined up near the dead fire, ready to snatch ata mo ment’s no tice.
He silenced his thoughts and felt his attention drawn to thefar side of the camp. Slowly, he turned around and walkedacross it, his bare feet cru n ching on the sand.
He felt Chimípu’s presence more than saw it. She walkednext to him in silence, but her body burned with pale goldenflames. Un like the co uri ers, the war riors could re tain their pow ‐ers at night for a short time. “Jìmo.”
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“Something is here.” He spotted a straight, sparkling line afew feet away. I nhal ing sharply, he rest ed his hand on Chi ‐mípu’s shoul der. “Mípu, I think we have com pa ny—”
The flames a ro und her grew brighter, and the mus cles un ‐derneath his palm tensed. The heat rippled along his body, notburn ing but clear ly pre sent.
“—but it may not be an en e my.”The line twist ed, re veal ing the two-di men si onal shape of Fi ‐
dochìma, the old man Rutejìmo had met a few days before.The body blossomed into three dimensions as the mandropped to his knees and bared his throat. His outfit was dustyand blood-stained. Some of the arrows in his quiver werenotched, and one lo oked sta ined with blood. “Great Shi mu ‐sogo Ru te jìmo, please for give this old fool.”
Chi mípu stepped back and drew her we apon with a hiss.Desòchu appeared on Rutejìmo’s other side, weapon drawn
and body burn ing. A mo ment lat er, a blast of air buff et ed Ru ‐te jìmo’s back. “Jìmo, who is this?”
“I am Fi do chì ma, and I speak… for no one right now.”The words brought up a memory for Rutejìmo. He had said
the same thing right after he was cast out of his clan. He lostthe right to speak for a clan because he had none. Fidochìmahad lost his own clan re cent ly.
Rutejìmo stepped forward, but both Chimípu and Desòchustopped him by slap ping their hands a gainst his chest.
“It could be a trap,” said Desòchu in a low voice.Rutejìmo shook his head. He could feel the breeze buffeting
his back and the sand rolling along his feet. “No, it isn’t. He’slo o king for me. He’s a banyosi ōu now.”
Both Desòchu’s and Chimípu’s hands dropped from hischest.
“H-How can you tell?” hissed Desòchu.
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Rutejìmo stared at Fidochìma for a long moment, and thewhispers arose in his head. “Because he killed a man that wasal ready dead.”
Fidochìma shuddered but said nothing. A tear sparkled inhis eye.
“Jìmo,” whispered Desòchu, “we are about to run for ourlives. If this is one of the… kojinōmi things, we don’t have timefor this.”
Rutejìmo nodded and stepped forward, lowering himself infront of Fi do chì ma.
The old man, face cov ered in sand, lo oked up. “For give me.”“I can not, I’m sor ry.” Ru te jìmo sniffed.“I hu nted him down, I fo und him. He was sob bing in the cor ‐
ner of a cliff, terrified. He told me what you had done, and Iknew I should have walked away. But, I didn’t have the faith.”Fidochìma clutched Rutejìmo. “I didn’t trust her to take care ofit. I killed him beca use he killed my grand daugh ter of a daugh ‐ter. I killed him beca use I was so an gry.”
Rutejìmo rested his hand on Fidochìma’s shoulder. He knewthe need to talk.
“And then, I felt it. Something inside me died and withdrew.I felt… alone…se parate from the world, and even my own fam i ‐ly turned their back. I said nothing, and they turned their backon me. They knew be fore I stepped si de ways.”
Ru te jìmo nod ded. “I know. It hurts in a way you can’t de ‐scribe, not to any one who hasn’t died al ready.”
“Y-You?”“By my own brother’s command. A year and then I could
live again, but Tsupòbi had far more than a year. She,” hedidn’t name the desert, “is far crueler than my brother couldbe. I don’t think the man you killed would have ever been for ‐giv en.”
“And I think now I’m given his curse. The sands dug into myskin at the mo ment he died.”
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“She is very vengeful. Someone must suffer the full measureof what she be stows.”
“Wisdom I should have listened to,” whispered Fidochìma,his voice cracked.
Rutejìmo chuckled dryly. “I’m not sure if I’m wise, but I cansay this. She has a purpose in her actions. She is cruel andbeautiful, but also loving. You can get back into her graces, butnot by sim ple bribes or emp ty ac tions.”
He pulled Fidochìma in a hug, tensing only slightly at thethought of be ing stabbed. Em brac ing the old er man, he whis ‐pered, “I can only give you the same advice I gave the manwhose curse was given to you. Find a city or a place to live andstay safe. There are others who have also died, and they willhelp, but only if you remain silent and listen. The others seeyou, but they can’t acknowledge you. Just be willing to see theway they can talk to the dead; it won’t be with words.”
Fidochìma rested his head on Rutejìmo before pulling back.“Half my age and filled with wisdom. I guess I was wrong,there is great ness in the desert.”
Ru te jìmo blushed.“Thank you, Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo.”Ru te jìmo nod ded and then pressed his fi nger to Fi do chì ‐
ma’s lips. “Silence. The dead are silent.” He sniffed as the tearsburned his eyes. He wished someone had told him that whenhe was cast out, it would have saved him weeks of agony. But itwould have set him on a path to lose Ma pábyo.
Fidochìma, an old man of a night clan, bowed and thenturned si de ways, dis appe a ring in a sparkle of light.
Rutejìmo stared at him, jealous that Fidochìma had a way ofesca ping in stealth when he had none. Then he pushed him ‐self up, sway ing be fore he re ga ined his bal ance. The two war ‐riors had left when Rutejìmo and Fidochìma were speaking,but Ru te jìmo didn’t re mem ber their with draw al.
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He looked out over the desert, away from the city. Therewere few er clans out there lo o king for him, just a wide expa ‐nse of rolling sands. The plumes from their run would be vis i ‐ble to any one lo o king.
“Jìmo,” Desòchu said as he walked back up, his bare feetcru n ching on the rocks.
Ru te jìmo turned to his broth er.“You’re the last.” Desòchu handed Jìmo a heavy bone case,
the o ri gi nal one. “I’ve al ready giv en routes to the oth ers.”“And mine?”Desòchu’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Start with the bed
that Byochína kicked you out of.” It was a campsite from aweek ago. Rutejìmo had accidentally crawled into the wrongbedroll in the middle of the night, much to the amusement ofthe oth ers and his em bar rass ment.
“And then to the place you died the first time.” WamifukoCity. “I would not normally send you anywhere like that, butyou have more al lies there than any where else.”
Ru te jìmo nod ded, the world spi n ning a ro und him as he fo ‐cused on his broth er.
“And then to where your friend broke his leg.” A set ofWind’s Teeth where Pidòhu, Chimípu, and his rite of passagestart ed.
“Finally, to where I learned the true Shimusogo Way.” Home,right inside the entrance where most of the clan stoppedDesòchu from killing Ru te jìmo.
Rutejìmo fought back the tears, but he bowed his head inac knowl edg ment. “Will I see you along the way?”
Desòchu jerked and then nodded. “Yes, but I won’t tell youwhere.”
“Race you home?” It was a thin joke, and he couldn’t forcehim self to smile.
“I’ll give you a head start,” came the dead-panned re ply.
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“When do we leave?” asked Rutejìmo just as the sun roseabove the horizon. A ripple of power coursed through his veinsand all six let out sighs of ple a sure and de spair.
“Now.”Eve ry one ran for their packs and sco oped them up. Ru te ‐
jìmo looked across at the others of his clan and felt a blacknessfill his heart. The faces looking back at him were drawn andner vous, no doubt feel ing the same thing.
They were go ing to die.Desòchu cleared his throat. “Pábyo and Jìmo with me. Chína
and Fùni run with Mípu. Mípu and I will cre ate cov er by kick ‐ing up a cloud, and you four run inside it, peeling away whenwe hit the first curve—” He po int ed to Ma pábyo and Byo chí na
“—and then the second—” His shaking finger gestured toRu te jìmo and Ni fùni.
“—and we—” He finished pointed to Chimípu who took adeep breath.
“—will sprint from there. We have the longest routes sincewe are the fastest. Any ques tions?”
No one an swered.Desòchu wiped the sweat from his brow. “Shi mu sògo run.”“Shi mu sògo run.”And then they were.
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Chapter 18
Brothers
“I see you” has become an intimate way of greeting and leaving a loved one,but the o ri gins of the phrase have been lost in his to ry.
—Ka ka saba Mi o shi gàma
u te jìmo ran in a cloud of dust and rocks, half-blinded andterrified some enemy would jump him even in his brother’splume. The dust and sand scraped against his face and tickledthe back of his throat. His eyes locked on the translucent dépathat guid ed him as much as the translu cent bird that his broth ‐er chased. Shimusògo would lead Rutejìmo out of the cloudwhen the time was right, but the long seconds of runningblind ly plant ed grains of doubt deep in his thoughts.
Next to him, Mapábyo paced Rutejìmo easily. He could seeher own dépa a few feet to the side of his, flickering in and outof his vision. While he could always see his no matter howmuch he struggled, the other dépas were harder to spot duringmo ments of stress. He was thank ful that the two re ma ined to ‐gether, it meant that Mapábyo would stay next to him as longas she could.
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They shared u nhap py glances at each oth er every few sec ‐onds. They were approaching the point where she would leavehim, and in a mat ter of min utes, he would be alone.
He wished he could talk to her. Talking while running wasdiffi cult for Ru te jìmo. At his high est speed, he had to con cen ‐trate on moving without tripping. Every step carried the threatof falling, or hit ting some thing, or be ing at tacked.
Normally, Mapábyo ran slower to pace him, but their runwasn’t for comfort or happiness. His brother knew exactly howfast Rutejìmo could run, and he kept the three running at thepo int Ru te jìmo fo und it hard to breathe and con cen trate.
He thought about the words he wanted to tell her. Hewished he could slow down long enough to hear “I see you”one last time, or to just touch hands. But, he couldn’t. Stealingthe occasional glance was the most he could do while they ranfor their lives.
Desòchu’s ini tial sprint would take them in a wide cir cle a ro ‐und the gathered clans. His speed kicked up a miles-longplume of dust and rock to obscure the couriers when theypeeled off for their own paths.
At least, that is what they hoped would happen. How couldthey plan around those who could jump from the shadows orrun as fast as the Shimusògo? Even with their speed, thehawks would see them long before their plumes settled to thegro und. He couldn’t see how any of them would sur vive, de ‐spite his broth er’s and Chi mípu’s faith they could make it.
Rutejìmo concentrated on following Desòchu. The despairgrew harder to fight, sapping his strength and will. He wantedto stop, to slide to a halt and let the Kosòbyo come for him. Inhis mind, he could pretend he would somehow slow themdown to let the others survive. His heart, however, knew hewasn’t ca pa ble of do ing any thing that would even give the oth ‐er war riors a mo ment to hesi tate.
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Mapábyo’s dépa pulled away from Rutejìmo’s. It was timefor her to leave. She ran closer, the wind of her body creatingeddies of sand around their feet. Her dark skin flashed in thesun as she leaned over and yelled past the rush of air betweenthem. “I see you!”
He bit back a sob.She ac cele rat ed into her full speed and eas i ly out paced Ru ‐
tejìmo. Her body blurred through Desòchu’s sand storm andRutejìmo lost track of her dépa. A heartbeat later, she veeredaway in one of the sharpest turns Ru te jìmo had seen and rock ‐et ed out of sight in an ex plo sion of sand.
He watched as long as he could, but it was only sec onds be ‐fore he passed the po int where she turned away. Pres sure squ e ‐ezed his heart as he fought the urge to stop. Only the dépa andhis broth er kept him ru n ning for ward as his wife ran away.
Rutejìmo lifted his head into the wind to let the sand scourthe tears from his face. He had to have faith, though despairchased after him dangerously close. He caught flashes of hisbroth er’s glo wing body and threw every thing he could into fol ‐lowing. He would never reach Desòchu, much like he wouldnever catch his dépa, but it was better than letting fear slowhim down.
A few min utes lat er, they ap proached the po int where Ru te ‐jìmo would turn away. His pla nned path would take him in al ‐most a straight line along a map, the most direct route, takinghim over inhospitable terrain until he reached Wamifuko City.He could see it in his head, and it left him de press ing ly vul ner a ‐ble. E n te ring the city would be risky if Ko sòbyo’s al lies were in ‐formed, but he had fri ends a mong the Wa mi fūko.
He gulped, preparing himself for days of traveling alone.The fear reached up to claw at his thoughts, rip ping deep fur ‐rows in his shaky co n fi dence.
His dépa abrupt ly dis ap peared.
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Shocked, Rutejìmo continued for a few more rods before herealized his brother had jammed his foot into the sands andcome to a rapid halt. Gasping, Rutejìmo did the same, his bodysha king as he blast ed a deep groove in the he ated sand.
He stopped and closed his eyes as the wind scoured himfrom behind. It peppered his back, scratching his exposed skinwith sand, be fore set tling down a ro und him a fa mil iar hiss.
Desòchu walked back to him, his bare feet scrunching in thesand. It was a stark so und com pared to the de a fe ning qu iet af ‐ter ru n ning.
“Sòchu? What’s wrong?” Rutejìmo took a deep breath andglanced a ro und.
Desòchu’s hair fluttered in the wind, and he wiped the sandfrom his face. “I have to say some thing.”
“Aren’t we running?” Even as Rutejìmo said it, he knew thathis brother wasn’t going to run. He cringed at the words beforeDesòchu could say them.
“You are.”His stom ach twist ed into a knot, and he gro aned at the dis ‐
com fort. “You are stay ing.” It wasn’t a ques tion.Desòchu nodded slowly and turned to look at the clans
search ing for them.The various clans raced toward the tip of Chimípu’s plume
and toward where Desòchu would have been if he hadn’tstopped. Rutejìmo could tell they were trying to head him offwhen the nearest ones turned sharply toward Desòchu andhim self.
On the far side, Rutejìmo could only see Chimípu’s plume,but knew that Byochína and Nifùni had already veered off ontheir own routes. The mas sive cloud rolling be hind Chi mípu lo ‐oked like a storm, wider and taller than anything he had seenbe fore. Flash es of gold en feath ers rolled in the cloud, high light ‐ing twist ing lines of pow er that kept it from set tling.
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Rutejìmo closed his eyes for a long time, struggling with hisgasping breath. When he could speak, he did without lookingat his broth er. “Why?”
“Because I can slow them. And if I can do enough damage,it will give us a few min utes or even a half hour.”
“Can you re al ly stop a tho u sand war riors?” Ru te jìmo o ‐pened his eyes and looked across the sands. He could seeplumes of racers, both on horse and foot, along with the flickerof jumpers as they shrunk the dis tance rapid ly.
Desòchu turned back, the sun glistening on his face. “If itmeans sav ing my clan, yes.”
Ru te jìmo sniffed. “Chi mípu knows, doesn’t she?”“Yes.” He waved his hand to ward Chi mípu.Rutejìmo looked up just as three streaks of flames burst out
of the tip of Chimípu’s plume. The shots were accurate butspread out. One struck a group of horse riders who explodedin a show er of flesh and flame. An oth er hit two peo ple stand ‐ing on a ridge with no obvious weapons. The last struck one ofthe me chan i cal snakes that slith ered to ward her.
The snake shuddered and tilted to the side, smoke pouringout of the side. Before it hit the ground, though, it twisted andcaught itself. Polished bronze shimmered in the sun as it roseback up and opened its mouth. Launching its head forward, aball of green fire ex plod ed from its maw and shot to ward Chi ‐mípu, but she was al ready past where it slammed into the gro ‐und.
Three more bursts of light shot out be fore Chi mípu ac cele rat ‐ed away, dis appe a ring with the speed of her move ment.
“No,” whispered Rutejìmo. He stepped toward his brotherand held out his hand. “Please, then just run with me. We needyou if we are go ing to sur vive. I need you too.”
Desòchu covered the distance between them and rested hishand on Rutejìmo’s shoulder, his body hot with the energy
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rolling off him. “Jìmo. You are a good man and my greatestmis take.”
“You’re a warrior of the clan!” Rutejìmo shoved the hand off.“You can sur vive. I’m the one—”
“No!”Ru te jìmo stepped back with sur prise.“There are many warriors of Shimusògo, but there is only
one kojinōmi.” He sniffed and shook his head. “Damn thesands, Jìmo. There are dozens who can tell us of the Shi mu ‐sogo Way. But there is only one who followed the ShimusogoRutejìmo Way. You are—” he tapped Rutejìmo’s shoulder withtwo fi ngers “—the re ason I was giv en these pow ers.”
Rutejìmo ducked his head. His body hurt, but his heart feltlike Desòchu had crushed it. He knew Desòchu would die justas he knew his brother would fight with the last breath of hisbody to make sure they sur vived.
“Brother, please. Let me do this. Great Shimusogo Rutejìmo,let me pro tect you.”
A tear rolled off Rutejìmo’s cheek and splashed on thesands.
“This is who I am.”Rutejìmo nodded. “Shimusògo run.” He looked up, choking
on the words. “S-Shi mu sògo run.”Desòchu held out a co uri er case, his own. “It’s emp ty. I nev ‐
er gave any thing to my self. You have every thing in yours. Beca ‐use you will run.”
Rutejìmo stumbled forward and hugged Desòchu tightly.“May Ta chìra shine on your death.”
Pulling back, Desòchu nod ded. “Shi mu sògo run.”He turned on his heels and ex plod ed into move ment.Wind sucked past Rutejìmo. It kicked up the surrounding
sands in a cloud that plumed after his brother. He ignored thescrapes of rocks a gainst his skin as he watched his broth er ig ‐nite into flame racing toward an army he had no chance of
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stopping. A translucent dépa, brighter than Rutejìmo had everseen be fore, ap peared over Desòchu’s form, and he ac cele rat ‐ed.
Desòchu passed by a rock outcropping. Rutejìmo didn’t seehim pick up a stone, but with a flash of light, a shot stre aked a ‐head of the war rior to punch into the chest of the clos est ru ‐nner less than a quar ter mile away.
The shot exploded into blood and flame as it continued intothe gro und kick ing up a large cloud of dark ness.
Firing more rocks as he ran, Desòchu charged straight forthe nearest opponents. Most of his shots struck flesh andbone. The resulting clouds of crimson settled to the sand as heblast ed past them, kick ing up the corpses of his e ne mies.
Rutejìmo sobbed as he watched his brother burst through acrowd and out the oth er side. Bod ies were ripped off the gro ‐und by his passing. Splashes of blood painted the sand, but hewas long past them be fore it set tled.
A wave of light arose from the archers a few miles away, ahundred arrows burst into flames as they sailed towardDesòchu in a bright cloud. It would have been majestic, if theywe ren’t a imed at Ru te jìmo’s broth er. Ru te jìmo could do noth ‐ing but hold his breath, u nsure of how his broth er could sur ‐vive an at tack from above.
Ragged black and blue streaks cut across the sky toward thewave, not traveling in a straight line but sharp angled turnsjerking their way into the arrow cloud. The energy, a startlingcontrast to the gold and white on the battlefield, was dark andviolent. It looked like lightning until Rutejìmo peered closerand saw the streaks were also arrows that flew like nothing hehad ever wit nessed.
His breath quick ened as he fol lowed them to the source. Fi ‐dochìma stood at the Shimusògo’s camp, black bow out in thebrightness of the morning light. His body glowed with a palewhite light. He drew back and more of the pale light gathered
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at his fingers. When he fired, it became an arrow that split intotwo and then four then over a hundred. Each one angled itselfacross the battlefield and into the cloud of arrows, decimatingit with each strike.
Above Fi do chì ma’s head was the bare ly vis i ble disk of Cho ‐bìre, the moon, already reaching down toward the horizon. Thenight clan warrior had chosen to spend the last of the moon’slight fight ing for a man he had nev er known.
Rutejìmo bowed his head as the tears ran. Two people weregoing to die to save him, and he could do nothing. He had toturn around, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move from the spotas he watched his brother’s light weaving in and out of thegath ered war riors.
Rutejìmo’s vision blurred, and the wind kicked up aroundhim. It peppered his face. “R-Run, Jìmo,” he whispered, tryingto shove himself away. But the words weren’t enough to forcehim to move. Instead, he stared at the battle and fought thebile rising in his throat. He knew how it would end, but he hadto see it.
Fidochìma’s arrows continued to shoot across the battle,knocking away the other arrows and punching into the sides ofthe hawks. Bodies and shafts plummeted to the ground. But,each time he fired, there were few er of the a ngu lar lines burst ‐ing from his bow. Each shot we a kened as the moon dipped fur ‐ther to ward the hori zon.
Rutejìmo lifted a foot and then put it down. He couldn’t runaway.
Desòchu’s sprint caught another warrior, and with a flash abody hit the gro und. The gold en streak of the Shi mu sògo war ‐rior continued along, burning a path through the ground as hecir cled to ward the next group of oppo nents.
Just as he reached his opponents, one of the mechanicalsnakes reared up and belched out a green fireball. It caughtDesòchu and the war riors be fore ex plod ing.
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Ru te jìmo’s heart stopped beat ing for a sec ond.Desòchu wasn’t burn ing gold as he flew out of the ex plo ‐
sion. Instead, streamers of green flames clung to his body ashe rolled against the ground, bouncing hard before landing.The im pact left clouds of sand ris ing in the air.
The flames from the snake’s shot dissipated to reveal bodiesof Kosòbyo’s allies on the ground. They were burning brightly,bones al ready vis i ble from Ru te jìmo’s dis tance.
Desòchu scrambled to his feet, his body once again ignitinginto flames. He shot forward in a cloud just as a second fireballlanded in his place. He fired back twice, the two golden shotspathetically small against the giant snake. The first bouncedoff the shell, but the second punched into the machine’s lefteye.
The ground underneath Desòchu rose into a sharp wall, andDesòchu jerked to the side to avoid it. Two arrows punchedinto his chest, and he stumbled again, his blood splattering thegro und.
Gasping, Rutejìmo stared at the distant fight as his brotherstum bled for ward. He could see more war riors stre a ming to ‐ward Desòchu, the slow er clans had reached his broth er.
“Desòchu!” screamed Rutejìmo. He shook his head andstepped back. He tried to tear his eyes away, but he couldn’t.His broth er was a bout to die.
And there was noth ing he could do a bout it.A translucent dépa blasted past him, going in the opposite
direction. Shimusògo commanded him to run, but he couldn’tmove. His vi sion blurred with tears.
Wind buffeted his face, and the dépa circled around, racingpast him a gain and a gain.
In the bat tle, the war riors gath ered a ro und Desòchu, block ‐ing him from accelerating. Weapons flashed as the fight grewbril li ant from the glo wing bod ies and se a ring at tacks. Ru te ‐
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jìmo could see bod ies falling and he watched each one, ter ri ‐fied to see his broth er hit ting the gro und.
The battle broke apart briefly, peeling back to revealDesòchu. He stood in the middle of his opponents, his chestcovered in blood and his body shaking. Two arrows still stuckout of his chest, piercing his bottom ribs. Cuts crossed his bodyand blood spurted out from his injuries. Weak flames coursedalong his body, wave ring as he stood de fi antly.
Seeing his brother’s inevitable demise brought a sharp waveof terror coursing through Rutejìmo’s veins. It shoved himaway from the battle harder than the wind or Shimusògo couldever manage. He couldn’t watch the end. He couldn’t see hisbroth er die.
Choking, Rutejìmo spun around and stumbled away. Hisbare feet tripped in the sand, but he man aged to keep his bal ‐ance. A few steps later, he found his purchase and dug his toesin to sprint for ward.
The dépa raced past him a gain, and he chased aft er it, blind ‐ly running because he couldn’t see through the tears in hiseyes or the despair in his heart. It took only a second to reachhis lim it, but then he was fle e ing Desòchu’s fi nal fight.
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Chapter 19
Nightmares
Sleeping alone in the desert is dangerous. Even in a time when no one hasmag ic, there are al ways crea tures hunt ing for a quick meal.
—Janithin Vans, FearoftheDark
u te jìmo sat alone, sur ro u nded by noth ing but the icy bla ‐nket of his nightmares. His eyes ached as he stared into theblack that surrounded him. The moon wouldn’t rise for a fewmore hours, and only a few stars sparkled in the sky.
It was the safest time to sleep in the desert, when no clanhad powers, but Rutejìmo couldn’t close his eyes. Every timehe took too long to blink, or his thoughts sank to ward un con ‐sciousness, the nightmares blew across his mind. It was thesame thing, Desòchu’s final fight. Nothing could tear his mindaway from those last few sec onds of his broth er’s life.
He sniffed and fought a sob rising in his throat. He clampedboth hands over his mouth and nose, shielding them as heshuddered with the effort. He couldn’t make noise; someonemight find him. Something might kill him. It didn’t matter if itwas a creature, nature, or human. He was vulnerable andalone, a weak man with a we aker heart.
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Tears rolled down his knuckles. He gripped his face tighterand forced his eyes to remain open. He couldn’t save Desòchu.He watched his own brother charge into battle, and he juststood there. He did nothing. In his mind and fantasies, he triedto play out a world where he ran after Desòchu and they bothsurvived. But, even as he clutched to the hazy fantasies, realitycrushed his hopes.
Rutejìmo was not a warrior. After so many years, there wasno doubt a bout it. He was weak and slow. He hadn’t killed any ‐one, at least not with a physical weapon, and he couldn’t—even in his dreams. He tried to change his fantasies, to be thebrave war rior with glo wing feath ers. It only last ed a few sec ‐onds before Desòchu became the hero in his dreams and thendied, his blood splattered across the sand and the light fadingfrom his eyes.
The tears ran faster, dribbling down his arms, soaking intothe sand. He trem bled as he dug his hands into his jaw, pre ‐venting it from opening. Only the wheeze of his breath rushingthrough slick fi ngers filled the night a ro und him.
His stom ach gur gled a ro und the cold pit of food he man ‐aged to shove into his mouth a few minutes ago. It sat in hisgut, a cold weight that refused to ease the discomfort. Hecouldn’t risk an alchemical flame to cook it or even a glow lightto push back the night. In a moonless night, even a sparkcould be seen for miles.
Rutejìmo drew in air through his fingers, choking on it as hetried to force himself to breath. He managed to draw in onebreath, and then another. Each gasping shudder took all hiswill just to bring air into his lungs. He con cen trat ed on it, try ‐ing to push away the wa king night mares that bub bled un der ‐neath his thoughts.
After a few minutes, his mind drifted away from the endlessloop. He remembered another time he was alone in the night,sitting helpless. Someone came for him, a Pabinkúe rider
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named Mikáryo. She had threatened to kill him in exchangefor her sister’s death and always called him “pathetic,” but shesaved him that night. It wasn’t until morning that he knewhow much she had done, when he saw the giant snake she hadkilled.
He wished she would come back, step ping out of the dark ‐ness with the single word that defined everything about him:“pathetic.” Mikáryo didn’t appear to his silent wish. No pitch-black horse stepped across the sands. There wasn’t even thehiss of someone walking. There was nothing around him butthe im pen e tra ble black marred by a few stars.
Fear bubbled up, a thousand images flashing through hismind. After a few minutes, he had to risk even a flash of lightto push away the dark ness. With one hand over his mouth, Ru ‐tejìmo reached for one of his glow lights. Three of them restedin his lap. He fought the key at the bottom, picturing the effortto twist it a ro und un til the mech a nism in side be gan to pro ‐duce light. His mind con ti nued for ward kno wing that so me ‐one would see it.
His breath grew faster as he played out the horror in hismind, of a warrior attacking in the middle of the night. Histhoughts rewound and went down a different path, of beingkilled in his sleep. And then another, each one more horrifyingthan the oth ers as he expe ri enced a hun dred deaths just beca ‐use he ne eded light.
The globe slipped from his finger and clinked loudly againstthe oth er two. He flinched, and the u nbid den hor rors arose a ‐gain. It wasn’t the light, but the sound that drew his death.Scene after scene burned in his mind until he sobbed into hispalm.
He knew how it would end. In five years, he had seen theworst ways people could die. He had seen disease, old age, andinju ries from fights, falls, and cru shing. He saw the pain pa i ‐nted across naked faces and shared them in his heart. A tho u ‐
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sand deaths hung in his memories, unwritten on paper butstill willing to remind him that he would not die in a bed orwith comfort. It would hurt, and he would scream. And therewould be no one to guide him to Mi fúno’s breast.
Rutejìmo inhaled sharply and lifted his head to feel thewind, but there was noth ing. The air had grown still and suff o ‐cat ing over the last few hours. Not even the hiss of a bre eze i ‐nter rupt ed the si lence that he filled with his weak cries.
His hand stroked along the glow lights and over his hip. Hestopped when his palm rested against the hilt of his knife. Heknew how to die, that much being a kojinōmi gave him. Hecould pic ture killing him self and his body tensed with the an ‐tic i pa tion of the one strike he ne eded.
But then he would be abandoning his clan and family. Twochil dren wait ed for him in Shi mu sogo Val ley. In a few years, Ki ‐tòpi would grow into a fine yo ung co uri er, maybe even a war ‐rior. He had the right attitude, the drive to push forward evenwhen he got hurt. Chimípu was the same way, a spark thatpushed her beyond the limits of just running. She had becomeShi mu sògo’s great est war rior beca use of the spark.
Pi róma, on the oth er hand, was as diffe rent from her broth ‐er as Ru te jìmo was from his. She was qu iet but ob ser vant, fol lo ‐wing a path diffe rent from the oth ers. In many ways, she re ‐sembled Tateshyuso Pidòhu. Pidòhu had been weaker thanthe others but more intelligent than Rutejìmo could ever hopefor. He and Pi róma al ready shared a com mon i n ter est in read ‐ing, writ ing, and draw ing.
The tears started to dry on his knuckles, but he still felt theache in his eyes. He couldn’t kill himself, not when there waseven a slight chance he could see his two chil dren a gain.
Trembling, he pulled his hand off his knife and reachedover to dig into his pack. He fo und the Book of Ash and hispen, but he couldn’t see the pages. He set the glow lights asideand fum bled with the book to set it in his lap. Blind ly, he o ri e ‐
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nted it correctly using the rough binding as a guide and thenflipped to the back where he knew there was a blank page.
His body aching and exhaustion plucking at his senses, hetook a deep breath and let the nightmares flow. As they did,the im ages still sharp in his mind, he be gan to write. Not a sin ‐gle line to docu ment Desòchu’s death but every thing he re ‐membered, every grain of sand and horror he felt. He switchedto po et ry when he couldn’t write straight, and then back to de ‐tailing the scene. He poured his despair and helplessness ontothe page, trusting that years of writing in the dim light wouldkeep the words leg i ble in the morn ing.
He wrote down his nightmares on a page he couldn’t see,beca use it was the only thing he could do.
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Chapter 20
An Unexpected Companion
Only a war rior knows the true me asure of cow ardice.—Klis tan dea Xerces
rit ing all night, Rutejìmo had not slept, but he couldn’t stopto find shelter. Instead, he lost himself in fleeing the enemiesthat chased him. He ran steadily, but only because of his yearsof practice. His body moved, even though his heart wanted tostop.
He continued to chase the translucent dépa racing ahead ofhim. No matter how fast he ran, he would never catch it, butthe eff ort gave the Shi mu sògo their abil i ties to run. As he con ‐centrated on the clan’s spirit, the sharpness of his grief fadedaway beneath the euphoria of the power rippling through hisve ins.
A small me asure of him was thank ful that Desòchu’s pla ‐nned route took him along rippling lines of dunes instead ofthrough rocks or against the wind’s grain. He traced his pathalong the bottom of the ridges, hidden from sight except forthe occasional need to crest a ridge to find a new valley. It wassteady and mo no to nous, both a curse and a bless ing.
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Ru te jìmo had run since su nrise. He only stopped long e ‐nough to duck into an oasis to refill his water skin. Normally,he would stop and interact with the clan protecting the waters,but he couldn’t afford to remain in public long. The reputationof Shimusògo would suffer with his rudeness, but they wereon the opposite side of the desert and Rutejìmo thought theywould un der stand if they knew his re asons.
Upon reaching the end of one valley, he started to race upthe side. The dépa crested before he did and he followed it,casting a mile-long plume of sand behind him. It marked hispath, and he wished that the power didn’t create an obvioussign of his pass ing, but he couldn’t cha nge how Shi mu sògo gra ‐nted his gifts. He hoped no one was looking before he duckedback into the next val ley.
But the dépa re ma ined along the ridge.Rutejìmo tried to go down the other edge, but he felt the
spir it draw ing him out into the open. Aft er a few sec onds of try ‐ing, he rele nted and ran aft er it.
It was a bright blue day, with not a single cloud in the sky.The searing light of Tachìra cast across the reddish-orangesands around him. It heated his skin, but Shimusògo’s powerkept the worst of the burn away from him. However, the burnsRutejìmo had earned from his recent purification ritual didn’thave the same protection. The aching pain pulsed with hisfoot falls.
A second translucent dépa raced by, slowing down to matchspeeds with his.
Rutejìmo jumped at the sight of it, but then sighed in relief.He lo oked over his shoul der as Ni fùni raced up.
They nod ded to each oth er and then ran to geth er.Al most im me di ate ly, some of the ten sion twist ing Ru te ‐
jìmo’s stomach relaxed. He was with someone he trusted. Theeff ort to run grew eas i er with Ni fùni pac ing him.
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They ran until a half hour before sunset, coming up to theisolated campsite where Rutejìmo had embarrassed himselfby crawling into the wrong roll. Together, they came to a hardstop that left deep gouges in the sands right up to the rockyscree that framed one side of the site.
Rutejìmo’s body jerked as the ground grew harder, but hiscallused feet barely felt the difference before he came to a neatstop and walked out of the groove he had just cre at ed.
Ni fùni bowed to him. “Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo.”“Great Shi mu sogo Ni fùni. I wasn’t ex pect ing to see you.”“Neither was I. Great Shimusogo Desòchu planned well. I
came along… Jìmo?”Rutejìmo wiped the sudden tears from his face and turned
away.“What hap pened?”“Great Shimusogo Desòchu stayed b-behind.” Rutejìmo tried
to keep his voice steady but it cracked in the end.“What!?” Nifùni rushed forward. Rutejìmo tried to look
away, but Nifùni stepped around and grabbed his shoulders.When Rutejìmo looked up, Nifùni’s face was pale and stricken.“What do you mean!?”
Fighting the sobs rising in his throat, he shook his head. “Hedied defending the clan and to give us more time to escape. I-Isaw him fighting them off, but he was about to fall and… and Iwas a coward.” He looked up and peered at Nifùni throughtear-blurred vi sion. “I ran.”
Nifùni paled even more and looked back the way theycame. “That isn’t be ing a cow ard.”
“You said it your self, I couldn’t fight.”The mus cle in Ni fùni’s jaw tight ened. “I was wrong.”“How can you say that? I ran from a bat tle—”“A fight you would nev er sur vive.”“But, I ran!” Rutejìmo’s voice drifted across the hissing
sands.
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“At least,” Ni fùni said in a whis per, “you didn’t kill eve ry ‐one.”
Ru te jìmo stopped at the so und of Ni fùni’s voice.Nifùni gestured back across the sands. He sighed and his
hand dropped to his side. “The problem with running alone isthat the only person left to talk to is yourself.” He spoke in alow voice. Rutejìmo knew exactly what Nifùni was feeling.“And the me mo ries that keep play ing over and over. Re mind ‐ing you of your failures, weaknesses, and everything you’vedone wrong,” he added. “When you try to sleep, it refuses to letgo.”
Nifùni looked back, his eyes haunted. He nodded after atime.
Rutejìmo lowered his gaze. “It never goes away. Every run,I’m re mi nded of my life. It just runs in cir cles in my head, nev ‐er slo wing, nev er stop ping.”
“But, you nev er stop.”With a snort, Rutejìmo slipped his pack off his shoulder.
“How can I? There is always going to be someone better thanme, faster than me, stronger than me. I’ll never be a hero.” Heheaded into the camp, his eyes narrowed as he peered aroundfor an at tack er.
The site was plain, only a niche in the rocks where someonemounted a metal ring for a fire pit. A six-foot brick wall hadbeen built around the campsite to shelter it from the windswith two entrances on the east and west; it was a day clancamp from the o pe nings.
There were few places for someone to hide, but Rutejìmostill circled around the shelter looking for signs of recent use.He spot ted none and he re turned in side.
Nifùni had already set up his tent, a lightweight fabric thatclipped to metal loops mounted in the brick. He was workingon Ru te jìmo’s, pitch ing it op po site to his.
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Normally, the last person to stop at camp prepared it, butwith only two of them, it was quick er to work to geth er.
Rutejìmo knelt by the ring and held up the metal containerwith the alchemical gel they used for cooking. “Can we risk afire?”
Nifùni sat back on his heels. A droplet of sweat traced theside of his face as he looked up in thought. “I hope so. Lastnight was cold.” He pointed to the surrounding wall. “Thatshould keep others from seeing any flames, but let’s put ourpacks around the entrances just in case. I’d like hot foodtonight.”
Rutejìmo’s stomach grumbled in agreement. He gatheredup the packs and re ma i ning sup plies and piled them high a ‐gainst both openings of the shelter. A few minutes later, hewas co o king di nner for both of them.
While they ate, Ni fùni made no eff ort to speak. It wasn’t un ‐til they were sitting in the darkness, staring at the pale blueglow of a single globe that he interrupted the uncomfortablesi lence.
“I’m sor ry, Jìmo. I didn’t think it would end up this way.”Rutejìmo stirred his thoughts from his own dark spiral of
replaying Desòchu’s death. Writing the night before had fadedthe agony of his memories, and it didn’t choke him as much,but he still couldn’t stop griev ing. He lift ed his head and lo ‐oked up at the stars above him, wondering if he would everlive long e nough for the ache to fade.
“Why did you stop Great Shi mu sogo Desòchu from c-cast ‐ing,” Nifùni choked on the word, “me out? Was it really becauseyou ne eded me?”
Rutejìmo struggled with his thoughts, trying to pull themto geth er to speak.
“Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo?” Ni fùni’s voice was plead ing.With a deep breath, Rutejìmo spoke softly. “Five years ago,
Desòchu declared me dead to Shimusògo. It took me a long
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time to figure out what that meant, and I almost died becausethere was no one to help me. If Desòchu declared you deadback there, you wouldn’t have sur vived the night.”
“But we don’t ac knowl edge the dead.”Rutejìmo shook his head. “No, we don’t talk about the
banyosiōu. The warriors still watch us, waiting for us to draw aweapon or be a threat. Otherwise, it would be easy to pretendto be one of the dead, sneak in somewhere, and then draw aweapon. They don’t look at us, they don’t speak to us, but onlywhen we are not a threat.”
Ni fùni i nhaled sharply. “Us?”“Yes, us. Because even though I may have saved you from
Desòchu’s wrath, I promise that, sooner or later, you will becast out of the clan. One person has already died because youwent against us.” Rutejìmo’s voice grew sharper. “You mayhave risked the en tire Shi mu sògo clan beca use of your greed.”
“We are poor!” Nifùni’s voice echoed against the shelterwalls.
“It would have been hard, but we could—”Nifùni stood up, his head rising out of the light of the globe.
“No! I lost that money. I was in the group that got robbed. Noteven Great Shi mu sogo Chi mípu could get it back.”
Rutejìmo fought the urge to stand up. He looked up into thedark ness, the world spi n ning. “No, the clan lost that mon ey.”
“I was there! I wasn’t—”“—strong enough.” Rutejìmo interrupted him. He had heard
the same things in his own head many times. “You wanted tosave Ba kóki and be the hero. You wa nted to be the one stagge ‐ring home, cov ered in blood aft er sav ing the day.”
Ni fùni’s mouth closed with a snap.Rutejìmo continued, his voice low as he struggled with his
tears. “You don’t like living in the shadow of Great ShimusogoDesòchu or Chimípu any more than I do. But, when you go to
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bed at night—” He shook his head “—you tell yourself that atleast you’re bet ter than me. It’s how you sleep, isn’t it?
Visible in the blue light, Nifùni’s hands balled into fists. Heturned and stormed away. “What do you know? You’re a cow ‐ard.”
Rutejìmo listened to the footsteps as Nifùni left the shelterand walked around. A faint thump filled the air and Rutejìmocould i mag ine him le a ning a gainst the o uter wall.
He bowed his head again, fighting with his own fears anddoubts. “You say I’m a coward, Great Shimusogo Nifùni. And Iam beca use I don’t fight. I have nev er killed any one, and I nev ‐er will. The idea sick ens me, and I can’t do it.”
Ni fùni snort ed.“I do what I can. I kneel next to the dead as they die.” Ru te ‐
jìmo sniffed as the tears came and a faint breeze picked up.“When your moth er was hit by that ar row, I was the one hold ‐ing her when her last breath left her lips. I had to be the onewho listened to your father’s tears, pretending I couldn’t hearthem as she whis pered how much she loved you into my ears.”
Si lence.“When your sister died from the plague, I was the one who
knelt in the shit and blood to reach her. No one else would dothat. I had to pick her up,” Ru te jìmo’s voice cracked, “a-and car ‐ry her to the flames. It didn’t matter if I would get sick just fortouching her, I’m the one who tends the dying—no matterwhat. There is no one else.”
He took a long, deep breath.“I may be a coward, so I do the only thing I can do. And that
is what we are do ing now. The only thing we can do.”
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Chapter 21
The Dying
The hard choic es nev er come on easy days.—Ti solan Misas, QueenoftheRiverKnives
or the first time, Nifùni struggled to slow to Rutejìmo’s paceinstead of Rutejìmo striving to match his. They were racingalong the ridge of a cliff, fol lo wing a well-worn path that wo ‐und along the edge of rocky cliffs. Every few minutes, the dépathat Ni fùni chased would ac cele rate, and he would fol low, eas i ‐ly pass ing Ru te jìmo. Then, Ni fùni would look back with frus tra ‐tion be fore slo wing down to match Ru te jìmo’s pace.
Every time Nifùni pulled away, a slash of guilt tore throughRutejìmo. He knew that Nifùni chaffed under the slowerspeed, but there was no way for Rutejìmo to force any morespeed out of his body. He knew his limits and he ran at them,gasp ing for breath as he tried to avoid dis ap po int ing his clan.
Even though they were heading along the same route, theywould be going separate ways in the morning. Nifùni saidsomething about heading out early but made no effort to leavebe fore Ru te jìmo or to out pace him.
Fear kept Ni fùni ru n ning with him. And Ru te jìmo’s slow ‐ness only frus trat ed the oth er co uri er with every pass ing mile.
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To dis tract him self, Ru te jìmo i mag ined catch ing his translu ‐cent dépa. It was impossible, but he managed to lose himselfin hopeless daydreams until they came near the end of the cliffroute. The final segment of the road swept around the westernedge and gave Ru te jìmo a view of the desert be fore him. Se e ‐ing nothing but leagues of sand gave him hope. No one couldjump them when every movement kicked up sand and therewere no shad ows to hide in.
Night would be harder, though, since they would have toavoid any obvious shelters. Like the previous night, Nifùni andRu te jìmo would each take half the time on watch while the oth ‐er slept. Exhausting, but four hours of sleep was better thannone.
He spotted a small oasis at the intersection of rock andsand. A small shrine house, not large enough for more than asingle room, stood less than a rod from the water’s edge. Thepa i nted stone walls of the shrine were cracked and fad ed, expo ‐sure to the sun and wind had scuffed the walls.
A prick le of fear crawled down Ru te jìmo’s spine as they ap ‐proached it. Both men slowed down to a stop and held stillwhile the dust from their ru n ning blew past them.
From the edge of the water, a lone guard looked up from herbook. It was an older woman, maybe in her fifties, clutching atall spear with one gnarled hand and the crinkled spine of herbook with the other. Her face wrinkled into a scowl, and herdeep-set eyes se emed to dis ap pear in the folds.
Rutejìmo held his breath as he bowed. He spotted the nameof her clan on her clothes and the walls of the shrine, Nyo chi ‐kōmu, but he wasn’t familiar with the clan. There was nothingto indicate her clan’s powers, but he guessed a long spearmeant that she was a war rior de spite her ad vanced age.
The old woman scoffed. “Twen ty to re fill your skin, two hun ‐dred for one of mine. I have other supplies, but they aren’tcheap.”
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He let out his breath in a rush of relief. In his experience,the guards that made no effort at friendliness were also oneswho didn’t ask questions. “Thank you, Great Nyochikōmu. Wehave four skins to re fill.”
She held out a wrin kled hand. “Eighty and on your way.”Nifùni and Rutejìmo each put forty pyābi in her palm and
held out their skins. When she nodded, they circled around herand knelt at the wa ters to re fill them.
Rutejìmo ducked the leather skins under the water’s surfaceand watched the bub bles rise. He sighed and glanced at Ni ‐fùni.
His clan member’s eyes were fixed on his own skins. Heheld his jaw clamped shut, the muscles trembling. Rutejìmo’sheart sank as he watched Nifùni move with sharp, angrymove ments.
Aft er a few sec onds of ho ping Ni fùni would look back, Ru te ‐jìmo turned away. He had said too much the night before andNifùni obviously held it against him. Telling Nifùni that he wasdoomed to be a banyosiōu did little to help either of theirmoods. Silently berating himself, he focused on refilling hisflasks.
As soon as the two skins were full, Ru te jìmo set a bout check ‐ing supplies in his pack. He counted the number of rationsand checked the lev el left in the jar with the al chem i cal gel.
“Jìmo, let’s go.”Rutejìmo looked up at Nifùni and then back. “Give me a
sec ond.”“No, now.”Frowning, Rutejìmo shoved his supplies back in his pack.
He stood up and bowed to the old woman. “Forgive us, Great—”
“Jìmo!” snapped Ni fùni, “let’s go!”The sharp tone raised a prickle of fear. He turned around.
“Is someone coming?” He scanned up along the trail and then
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across the sands. He stopped when he saw two wisps of smokerising further along the cliffs as the trail curled to the south,away from both home and Ko sobyo ter ri to ries. The wind buff et ‐ed the wisps into obliv ion, but the twin curls of white and yel ‐low were u nmis tak able.
“Don’t go there,” growled Ni fùni.Rutejìmo sighed but didn’t take his eyes away from the
smoke. Someone was dying or had just died. He didn’t need tolook down at his feet to feel the sand wafting around his feet.The sudden tickle of grains told him that the desert called tohim. “I have to. So me one needs me.”
“No, we need you more. We run for our lives, Jìmo. Andspending two days doing… whatever you do… is just going toput both of our lives in da nger.”
“But, Great Shi mu sogo Ni fùni, I have to—”“No!”The old woman jumped at Nifùni’s outburst. She twisted
the haft of her spear, and her blade ignited into golden flames.Let ters flick ered along the sur face, the name of the we apon.
Ru te jìmo glanced at her and then back.“Listen, Jìmo. You better make a choice now. Because either
you are a Shi mu sògo or you are… that!”“A ko ji nōmi?” whis pered Ru te jìmo.Nifùni paled, and it was his turn to look at the woman.
When he looked back, his lips were tight but his voice loweredinto a harsh growl. “Yes, one of those. So, which one are you,Shi mu sògo or sand-damned ko ji nōmi?”
In his head, Ru te jìmo heard the ques tion diffe rent ly. Shi mu ‐sògo or Mifúno. Was he a courier or a kojinōmi? He knew hecould strip off his clothes and take on the mantel of white,maybe forever. Not even the Kosòbyo would attack him then,but he could nev er re turn to his clan.
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“Choose, Jìmo. Because in a minute, I’m going to run to savethis clan and I will—” Ni fùni shoved two fi ngers a gainst Ru te ‐jìmo’s ster num. “—leave your cow ard ly feet be hind!”
Rutejìmo turned back to the smoke. It continued to rise inthe air, fad ing in the wind. It was a stark re mi nder that so me ‐one was dy ing out there, maybe ter ri fied, alone.
A tear ran down his cheek as he struggled. If he answeredthe call, he could be risking not only his life but Nifùni’s andthe others. At the same time, someone could be suffering, andonly he could tend to them.
“Rutejìmo, someone is going to answer that. We have to go,now. We have to run be fore they catch us.” Ni fùni grabbed Ru ‐tejìmo by both shoulders and turned Rutejìmo to face him.“Jìmo, so me one else will get it.”
Ru te jìmo start ed to look back, but Ni fùni’s grip tight ened.“Jìmo.”Lo we ring his head, Ru te jìmo sniffed. “We need to run.”“Good. Fi nal ly, you are ma king the right choice.” Ni fùni re ‐
leased him and gathered up his bag and water skins. “We’llhave to run all day to make the….” His voice trailed off, and heglanced at the woman.
Te a ring his gaze away, Ru te jìmo nod ded. “I know.” He heft ‐ed his pack on his shoulder. Turning around, he bowed to theold woman. He wasn’t surprised when he felt more tears dripoff his cheeks and strike the ground at his feet. He stammeredfor a mo ment. “I-I’m sor ry.”
Her dark gaze, barely visible in the deep wrinkles nevershift ed.
He bowed again. “I’m sorry, Great Nyochikōmu. I-I have toleave.” He wiped the tears from his eyes, wishing he didn’t feelsick from a ba n do ning his du ties.
Strap ping his pack into place, he bowed a gain.She didn’t move.“Jìmo, come on!”
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Ru te jìmo turned and jogged over to Ni fùni.“About time,” snapped Nifùni. He stepped forward as the
translu cent dépa passed him.Ru te jìmo start ed aft er him, jog ging un til Shi mu sògo ap ‐
peared, but the dépa never came. He slowed after a few rodsand stopped. Frowning, he turned around looking for his clanspir it.
In the back of his mind, he knew why he couldn’t use it. Hewasn’t going to run after Nifùni. Even knowing that the othersmay need him, the pull of Mifúno was stronger. He sighed andlo oked back over the sands.
Nifùni had stopped a half-mile away, a dark figure standingin a swirl of settling sand. From the distance, Rutejìmo couldstill pick out the an gry look on his face.
Ru te jìmo shook his head. “I’m sor ry, Great Shi mu sogo Ni ‐fùni. I can’t ignore this.” He spoke even though Nifùni couldn’thear him.
In the dis tance, Ni fùni turned and spri nted away, dis appe a ‐ring in a plume of sand that rapidly streaked across the sands.Ru te jìmo could feel the man’s a nger as he raced away.
Sha king his head, Ru te jìmo turned.The old woman stood less than a foot away from him, gla ‐
ring up at him from her short er height.He jumped back. “Sands!”Her wrinkled face somehow screwed up tighter, and she
stepped toward him. Despite her age, there was no suggestionshe couldn’t keep up with him no matter how quickly he ran.She moved fast, not as much stepping through the interveningdis tance but sim ply appe a ring at the end of her move ments.
She tapped her spear against the ground lightly. “If youdon’t run,” she said in a wave ring voice, “then you will die.”
Rutejìmo nodded and gestured toward the smoke. “Y-Yes,Great Nyochikōmu, but they need me too. How do I choose
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one over the other?” He shook his head. “I can’t. I may be acow ard, but—”
She held up her hand, stopping him. “There is no cowardicein ru n ning to ward death.”
Memories resurfaced, of watching Desòchu charging intobat tle. “I-I don’t run to ward death all the time.”
“Ru n ning to a death filled with blood and vi o lence and ru n ‐ning to one filled with sickness and injury are the same. Theonly difference is what we call those who rush toward death.The glorious deaths are for us warriors, the noble deaths arethe ones we don’t talk a bout. The ko ji nōmi.”
Ru te jìmo shiv ered at her words.She stepped back. “I am A te fómu, and I speak for Nyo chi ‐
kōmu.”He bowed. “I am—”“—and I do not see the dead.” She turned around. “Even if
they leave their possessions here for safe guarding. On theshelf of the shel ter.”
She ap peared next to the shrine, leav ing no hint of her pass ‐ing. She tossed forty pyābi on the shelf. And then she appearedon the stone next to the spring, holding her book as if she hadnev er moved.
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Chapter 22
Old Ways
The ko ji nōmi can not ask beca use they can not speak, but they are giv en shel ‐ter and food for their pre sence.
—TheWaysoftheDead
u te jìmo groaned as he opened his eyes, his head fuzzy withsleep and his body aching from his day-long walk across thedesert. He could feel sharp pains along his ankles and sidesfrom sand fly bites. Along his shoulders and head, the familiarsear of sunburn rippled along his senses. The wound in hisside ached, and he rest ed his hand on it, trac ing the scab. To u ‐ching it added to the mul ti tude of oth er dis com forts and pres ‐sures that woke him from his sleep.
Knuckling his eyes, he sat up. A fur blanket slipped off hisshoul der and slumped into his lap.
Rutejìmo froze. He didn’t have a fur blanket. It was tooheavy to carry across the desert. Shaking, he lowered hishands and peered around at his surroundings, a room justlarge enough for a single bed, a wardrobe, and a door. Lightcame in through the skylight of what appeared to be real glass.The sun shone on the walls revealing murals of children and
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adults. Un like the out side of the shrine, the in side was obvi ous ‐ly ma i n ta ined and re cent ly pa i nted.
His eyes scanned his surroundings, trying to identify theowner. He saw clothes neatly folded on the dresser. He couldsee letters embroidered along the hems. Leaning over the edgeof the bed, he read the name of the clan. Nyochikōmu. Hemust be in the shel ter at the spring, though he didn’t re mem ‐ber how he got there or even set ting down his sup plies.
Struggling with weak muscles, he crawled out of bed andstood up. He was naked and still raw from his pu ri fi ca tion rit u ‐al. He looked around for his own clothes, but couldn’t findthem. For a mo ment, he con si dered grab bing some of A te ‐fómu’s clothes, but he left them alone.
Instead, he staggered to the door and opened it. It was rightbefore dawn, and the pale blue light suffused everything withha los in his blur ry vi sion.
Atefómu sat where he first saw her, holding the same bookand spear. Her wrinkled face hid the movement of her eyesand gave no hint of her moving or reading. It was as if she wasa stat ue.
Rutejìmo used his hands for balance against the shelterwall as he limped a ro und the cor ner and re trieved his belo n ‐gings. And then he headed to the pond where it drained outinto a thin stream. A sign that said “Bathing” hung from a rockoutcropping. Below it was a shelf with soap and rags with “10pyābi” carved into the front of the sign.
He dug into his clothes for the forty pyābi she had re turned.“The ko ji nōmi do not pay.”Ru te jìmo jumped at her close voice. He turned a ro und, steel ‐
ing himself for her presence. But even knowing she would beless than a foot away, it still startled him to see her wrinkledface so close.
Gulping, he bowed his head because there was no room fora for mal bow. “Thank you, Great Nyo chi komu A te fómu.”
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“There is no thanks,” she said in her wave ring voice, “beca ‐use this is the way it is. Go on, I will help you break fast.” Sheturned, and then she was gone. He didn’t see how she moved,only that one moment she was standing in front of him andthe oth er she was a rod away, kneel ing at an old fire pit.
Shive ring, Ru te jìmo set down his belo n gings and went a ‐bout cle a ning him self from head to toe.
Half an hour lat er, he felt cle aner than he had since Ko ‐sobyo City. His stomach gurgled happily from a rich breakfastof eggs, strips of meat, and vegetables. He didn’t recognize thetaste of the meat but that didn’t make it any less ful fill ing.
Atefómu sat across the fire, her smaller plate still laden withher half-eaten breakfast. She was looking at him, he thought,but it was hard to tell with her deep wrin kles.
He gulped. “Ex cuse me, Great Nyo chi komu A te fómu.”“A te fómu. No need for for mal i ties right now.”Ru te jìmo felt un com fort able with the fa mil iar way of spe a ‐
king that the eastern desert seemed to have. He hesitated for amoment, then asked a question that hung over him since heleft her the day before. “You said that if I went toward… thesmoke, I would die. I was thi n king a bout it as I ran there, wo n ‐dering if you mean I needed to run or if answering that… callwould kill me.” He felt un com fort able talk ing a bout be ing a ko ‐jinōmi out loud. It was something he wasn’t allowed to doback home, but the east ern ways se emed to be more… lax con ‐cern ing the dead.
She didn’t move for a moment, then she set down her plate.“Shi mu sògo…”
“Oh, I’m sor ry. I am Ru te jìmo, and I speak for Shi mu sògo.”Atefómu bowed her head to him in acknowledgment. “Who
did you find at the smoke?”“I… I’m not sup posed to talk a bout it.”“An old man surrounded by family, a scar on his face and
miss ing fi ngers on his left hand?”
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Ru te jìmo i nhaled sharply. “H-How did you know?”“He was my sister’s husband. Her third husband because
the first two died. She was a kojinōmi also, and I protected heragainst the desert as she struggled to follow the old ways, justas you do.”
Ru te jìmo set down his plate as she con ti nued.“And, just like her, I found you unconscious on the sands in
the middle of the night. Helpless against the night. I guard youbeca use of what and who you are.”
“I’m sor ry.”“For what? Not telling you what I was about to do? Or for
you killing yourself trying to follow ways that don’t make senseany more?”
“I,” he tugged on his damp shirt, “I don’t know any otherway. It was the way… I was taught and what felt right.”
To his surprise, she smiled. It was a strange transformationwith her wrin kled-filled face, but it was also the first ex pres ‐sion that she had shown. “She said the same thing when wetalked about it. She had the same book as you. In fact, it washers a long time ago, be fore she passed it on to an oth er ko ji ‐nōmi.”
“I didn’t know.”“Of course not, why would you? But, I remember the smear
of soot when she had a seizure and the burnt corner when Ithreatened to destroy it because being a kojinōmi was killingher.”
“Yet, it wasn’t burned.” He flushed. “You didn’t de stroy it.”Atefómu shook her head and looked down at the fire. She
shook her head twice before she spoke. “No, because I realizedthat being a kojinōmi was the same as being a warrior. What Itold you before is true, and also that we don’t talk about howthey are both cham pi ons. War riors get glo ry and fame, ko ji ‐nōmi die alone in the dark. They die in the dark, holding theirsis ter’s hand, as some di se ase eats their in sides.”
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A tear welled up from one of the deep wrinkle and drippedalong her face, trac ing the lines that years had dug into her.
“No one talks a bout the dead,” said Ru te jìmo.“No, but they should. What you do should put your sacred
ashes right at the front of the other vases of your clan. It iseasy to face a sword or hammer. It’s hard to face plague, age,and the thousand other ways we die. A warrior ends life that issuffering, you ease it. It is far harder to be at peace than it is tokill.”
Un able to say any thing, Ru te jìmo nod ded.“You are Mifúno’s warrior, Rutejìmo. You will die like us,
serv ing Mi fúno just as I will die serv ing Nyo chi kōmu.”He nod ded a gain.She took a deep breath. “And that is why I didn’t tell the peo ‐
ple lo o king for you that there were two trav el ers.”Ru te jìmo lo oked up sharply. “W-What?”“They came for you yesterday, while you were burning my
sister’s husband’s body. Eight men from three clans, lookingfor ru nners of Shi mu sògo.” Her voice grew hard er. “They thre a ‐tened me before even asking a question, filled with their ownpride and righte ous ness.”
“What did you tell them?”“You will not like the an swer.”A feeling of dread trickled down his spine, a suspicion that
gathered in his mind. Rutejìmo clutched the rock he sat on.“Please, Great Nyo chi komu A te fómu, I need to know.”
“I told them that one runner had passed by and entered thedesert.” She pointed in the direction Nifùni ran. “I told them hewas alone and that he had no al lies.” She spoke with a dead ‐panned voice, as if she was describing a meal or a sparringses sion.
“Ni fùni? The co uri er I was with? What hap pened to him.”“Dead. They came back this way, still proud of themselves
for serving Kosòbyo.” She pointed back up the path. “They
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went home like cowards. With his head in a bag and cheeringfor their success.” A glob of spittle appeared at her feet but hedidn’t see her spit.
Rutejìmo stared at her in shock, his mouth opened. Onlytwo days ago, Ni fùni was alive and yelling at him; he was try ‐ing to outrace him, and being frustrated that he couldn’t. Andthen, in a flash, he was dead.
He shook his head, trying to deny it. “No, no, you couldn’thave done that.”
His fingers dug into the rock as he looked up at her. Seeingher deeply fur rowed face and kno wing that she wasn’t dev as tat ‐ed by her actions, he wanted to lash out at her. But, at thesame time, he knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t survive against awarrior. Even if he could, Rutejìmo had never killed anyone inhis life. He couldn’t cha nge that, even for his clan.
He choked, try ing to force words out. His vi sion blurred be ‐fore he could work his mouth to make a sound. “W-Why?” Itcame out weak and qu iet.
Atefómu groaned as she stood up. “Because I didn’t see thedead.” Her voice never rose in tone, only creaked more withher emo tions. “But I also served you for help ing me.”
“Help ing… how?”“I have no love for anyone who threatens me, nor do I have
respect for Kosòbyo and their allies. They are bullies who usetheir position as Tachìra’s greatest allies to further their owngoals. Whatever reason they want you dead, they were willingto start fights that no one would ever win.”
She pointed back across the sands, in the direction Nifùniran. “They think they have killed the only Shimusògo nearby.They have closed the trails on the other end of the mountain,which means you have clear running along a path that is notguard ed.”
“You killed my clan!” Tears ran down his cheek. “You killedNi fùni!” He let out his breath, it came in shud de ring gasps.
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“Yes, I did.” Her voice didn’t falter. “And if you wish to strikeme, feel free.” She dropped her spear on the ground and camearound to him. Standing before him, she put her hands behindher back and lift ed her chin.
Rutejìmo stared at her bared throat; she was willing to giveher life for her choice. He couldn’t even raise his hand. Hestood up, stepped back while sha king his head. Tears thre a ‐tened to spill out and he wiped at them, hating that he wasn’tstrong e nough to save his broth er or Ni fùni.
The spear appeared in her hand. “I’m a warrior, Rutejìmo. Iwill be un til the day I die.” She was in front of him a gain, mov ‐ing faster than he could see. “I killed him, and if you wish totake my life in exchange, I will give it freely for making thatchoice.”
“Why? It can’t be for help ing a stranger.”She reached out and pressed one wizened hand against his
elbow. “Yes, because you were a stranger. You didn’t knowwhat was at the smoke. You didn’t know you were running tomy sister’s husband. But, when you had a choice, you chose tohelp a stranger in stead of your self. And your clan would not.”
Ru te jìmo sank to his knees and sobbed.“You are not a cow ard. You may think you are, but you a ‐
ren’t.” He blinked, and then she was gone. Another blink, andshe was back.
A heavy thump landed next to him, and he peered over. Itwas a large bundle of wood, wrapped in paper and string. Aprayer had been written on the paper, and he could smell theincense nestled inside. They were supplies for burning thedead, blessed wood and sacred scents. He never had to gatherthem on his own beca use oth ers would leave them near the dy ‐ing for his use.
“Burn your clan, and give his spirit some peace, but forgetsome of the old ways. You serve Mi fúno even if you don’t pu ri ‐fy your self. Even if you skip the rit u al in this time of need, Mi ‐
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fúno knows you are her champion. Don’t ever forget it. Anddon’t be afraid to speak about who you are. Everyone needs toknow. My sister did not, and I wish not to see anyone suffer insi lence like her a gain.”
Ru te jìmo lo oked up at her. “What if I can’t?”“Ways are changing. If you remain who you are, they will
know.” She smiled broadly at him. A heartbeat later, she wassitting back at her rock, holding her spear and her book as ifshe had nev er moved.
Rutejìmo wiped away the tears and stood up. He didn’tknow if she was right. The young kojinōmi who served Mifúnonear Kosobyo City had refused to help one of the night clans,something that Rutejìmo would never consider doing. Theirways were cha n ging, some for the good and some for the bad.
He straightened his back and took a deep breath. Gatheringhis pack and the wood, he gave one final bow to the oldwoman who didn’t move.
The translucent dépa raced by, shooting out into the desert.Shi mu sògo would find Ni fùni’s body de spite the wide expa ‐nses of sand and the ravages of the wind. He would burn theyoung man’s body and then keep running, even if he had toskip the pu ri fi ca tion.
He didn’t know what would hap pen, but he still had a mes ‐sage to de liv er, and he couldn’t a ba n don Shi mu sògo for Mi ‐fúno any more than the re verse. He would serve both.
And then he ran.
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Chapter 23
Asylum
The Wamifūko are forbidden from traveling beyond a chain of their town,on the pain of de struc tion.
—Ko sobyo Bu híchyo, Lord of the Sec ond Ko sobyo Army
he ar row slammed into the sand a rod a head of Ru te jìmo.He tensed at the sight of the bright red feathers blossoming
into flames.The grav el a ro und the ar row be gan to vi brate.Knowing that it was about to explode, he closed his eyes,
shielded his face with his arm, and raced past. A sharp crackshot out behind him, and the concussion wave shoved himroughly forward. He stumbled and continued along, chasingthe dépa as he reached the long shadows cast by WamifukoCity.
The city had been carved out of the mo u n tain by the Wa mi ‐fūko. Massive stone claws, each one a mile in height, rose fromthe base. The clan had shaped them with their magic and usedthe outcroppings to form sixty-four gates that lead into the city.It was the promise of the Wamifūko that they would protectany one with in their bo u n da ries.
Ru te jìmo hoped he would sur vive long e nough to find out.
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He blamed himself for not expecting an ambush, but daysof travel without incident had tempered his fear. If it wasn’t fora chance wind that blew sand in his face, he would never haveno ticed the am bush.
That was six miles ago.An oth er ar row slammed into the gro und be fore him. The po ‐
int of the head slipped from the gravel, and it fell to the side.The shaft rolled for less than a second before it ignited intoflames. Another two arrows pierced the ground in a line. Theywere too close to out race the ex plo sions.
He threw himself against the ground, digging his feet hardagainst the sharp rocks. As his speed and Shimusògo’s magiccarved a deep furrow, he leaned back as far down as he could,us ing his mo men tum to keep him from falling but also build ‐ing up a mo und of rocks be tween him and the ar rows.
Just as he reached the po int where Shi mu sògo would dis ap ‐pear, the arrows exploded. Three rapid punches slammed intothe gravel at his feet, kicking up stones and dust that smashedinto him. Sharp edges of rocks tore at his legs, hip, and shoul ‐der. He could feel more shards pu n ching into his skin and scra ‐ping a gainst bone.
The heat seared his face, but he closed his eyes and threwhimself to the side, running before he even hit the ground. Heaccelerated in a flash, despite the agony of moving. His otherwounds, an arrow in his right shoulder and gashes from nearmisses along his side, reported with sharp agony, but hecouldn’t stop.
Rutejìmo slapped his hand against the ground and shovedhimself up. His feet caught the ground, the dépa already aheadof him. He shot for ward and sca nned the quar ter mile re ma i ‐ning be tween him and the city.
Besides the four archers riding behind him, there were threeother clans moving to block him. He didn’t know them by their
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colors, but he couldn’t imagine any other reason they would berac ing to block the gates ne arest to him.
He heard the twang of bows. Air rushed past him, and fourmore ar rows hit the gro und be fore his feet.
Rutejìmo raced around the first two, then turned sharplyback toward the city before they both exploded. More rockswhizzed past him as others punched through his pack andgrazed his arm. He winced from the impact and prayed hecould make it before another one of the arrows struck him. Hewas already leaving a bloody trail behind him and didn’t thinkhe could take much more be fore falling.
The next set of arrows missed their mark, and he passedthem long before they exploded. He panted for breath as hestraight ened his path and spri nted for the gate.
The other clans had reached their positions in front of eachof the nearest gates. The gate that Rutejìmo had aimed for wasblocked by a clan using spears. All their weapons were set toreceive him, their red and white banners hung from shortcross bars near the blades. Be hind them, a rank of fight ers wait ‐ed with swords in both hands. Their blades burned with gold ‐en flames and sparkling let ters.
Ru te jìmo fo cused past his oppo nents, on the gate. The Wa ‐mifūko wore heavy armor and had highly stylized helms. Inthe desert, it would be dangerous to wear such armor, but theynev er left the co n fines of their city. He hoped to see a horse-he ‐aded one, his fri end Gi chyòbi, but the im pas sive guard stand ‐ing at the entrance holding a massive spear in both handswore a cat-shaped helm.
The Wamifūko were bound to not travel more than a chainfrom their city. It was common knowledge in the EasternDesert, and his opponents knew of the clan’s limitation. Theyremained a chain’s distance from the walls and well outside ofthe city’s pro tec tion.
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Rutejìmo stared at the gate, trying to find a path throughthe warriors blocking him. He could barely breathe after thelast few minutes of running, with all the evasive maneuvers.He knew that his injuries slowed him down, and he was justone man against a dozen. If he shifted direction, they wouldblock him a gain. To out race them, he would have to move clos ‐er to the walls, but then he would be more at risk from what ev ‐er killing mag ic they had.
He looked to the further gates, the ones that weren’tblocked. Each one had a crowd in front of them, most ly mer ‐chants entering the city as the markets opened, and he had nodoubt that Kosòbyo’s allies were among them. He could try tofind a less protected entrance, but he wasn’t sure if he couldsur vive the archers be hind him long e nough to find it.
Drawing out his tazágu, Rutejìmo bore forward. He had noi n tent of killing any one, but it would be u se ful in par ry ing at ‐tacks. Ta king a deep breath, he pre pared him self for more inju ‐ries and charged for ward.
A rip ple of move ment along the grav el warned him of an oth ‐er ambush. He jerked to the side as a stone-colored snakeburst out of the gro und and shot for ward, miss ing him by inch ‐es. More ripples appeared, and he had to concentrate to windhis way through them as the snakes shot forward. He felt onefang catch his trousers. He kept ru n ning, but the snake had so ‐mehow latched onto his clothes and thumped on the groundbefore him. He could feel its body snapping with the wind andthe weight slo wing him down.
Rutejìmo slashed his weapon down, striking the snake anddislodging it. When he looked up, he was far closer to thespears than he re al ized. With a cry, he dug his foot into the gro ‐und and turned sharply.
One of the blades caught him across the cheek, cutting aline clear to his ear before he managed to accelerate away. The
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pain exploded across his face, and his right eye blurred withthe agony.
Rutejìmo stumbled but managed to keep moving. He ranparallel to the city walls. Spears slashed at him, each strikelead ing a wave of force that exte nded past the end of the we ‐apon. One hit him along the thigh, slic ing deep into the mus ‐cle.
His leg gave out. With a scream, he threw himself beneaththe readied spears and onto the ground. He pitched forward,twisted until he could dig his feet into the hard-packed earth.He slid along it until he jammed his feet harder, forcing themunder the crust until the surface shattered from his speed.Ragged plates of stone burst out from both sides as he rapidlyslowed.
An oth er spear swung over him, and he ducked back, nar ‐row ly avoid ing it.
When he saw the oth er fight ers rac ing to ward him, he re al ‐ized that if he stopped, they would kill him. He thought fu ri ‐ously and then realized he had a way to get past the line, but itwould hurt more than he could i mag ine.
He winced but then rolled out from underneath the spearsand shot away from the city. He couldn’t regain his full speed;his leg injury resisted his efforts to run faster. After only achain of distance, he circled back and charged the wall. Hisbreath came faster and his heart slammed against his chest ashe stared at the spears being set for him. Blood dripped downhis side and his leg shook with the eff ort to keep ru n ning.
Just as he approached the spears, he jammed his feet intothe gro und to stop.
The blades lo wered to pierce his body.Rutejìmo held his breath and let his momentum pull him
up. For the briefest of moments, he stood at the head of hisown furrow, but then the inertia of his movement yanked himup off the gro und and flung him up and over the spears.
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Waving his hands, he could do nothing as the side of thecity rushed at him. The sheer height of stone reached far pasthis vision, but then it filled his view until there was nothingelse but wall.
He only had time to scream “Sands” before he hit it face-first. His nose cracked from the impact and stars explodedacross his vi sion. The sol id stone stopped his move ment in ‐stant ly, and he was crushed a gainst it.
Rutejìmo let out a long, tortured groan. And then his bodypeeled off the rock and he fell. He was surprised that he didn’thear more cracked bones, but it was hard to sense anythingpast the pain of his fractured nose and the blood sheetingdown his face.
He hit the ground, bouncing once before slumping againstthe rock. Blood poured down his face, smearing across his eyesand casting everything into a crimson haze. Agony searedacross his body, reporting everything from his shattered noseto the wounds from the arrows. He could breathe, but eachtime he inhaled, a sharp pain radiated from a cracked rib. Hisleg burned with his injuries and he didn’t know if he wouldever run a gain.
Ru te jìmo couldn’t move. He stared up at the sky and the sin ‐gle stone claw that rose above him. He had made the city, buthe was going to die in its shadow. There was no way any of theWa mi fūko could reach him be tween the gates.
Foot steps rushed to ward him. He tensed for the blow.The first opponent jumped up, his body silhouetted against
the sky. He raised a spear over his head and began to thrustthe we apon down wards, a i ming for Ru te jìmo’s chest.
Ru te jìmo’s held his breath as he wait ed for the end.A second spear swung across his vision, the blade almost a
yard long. It appeared to come from between Rutejìmo’s feet,but they were pressed against the rock wall. The weapon
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caught Rutejìmo’s attacker right below the ribs, slicing throughcloth and flesh in a sin gle slash.
Instead of a spear blade striking him, it was a rain of gutsand blood that poured down. Striking his body in wet thuds,pounding into him before sliding off. The stench of offal andgore choked Ru te jìmo.
A heavily armored figured stepped over Rutejìmo, walkingout of the stone wall itself. Steel boots landed on both sides ofRutejìmo’s head. A moment later, something heavy slammedinto the ground and a wave of power radiated from the impact.It shift ed Ru te jìmo’s body to the side, and his head thumped a ‐gainst one of the boots.
“I am Gi chyòbi, and I de fend Wa mi fūko!”Ru te jìmo sobbed at his fri end’s fa mil iar voice.Someone spoke up. “Give us the runner, Wamifūko, and we
won’t e nter your city.”Gichyòbi’s voice boomed loudly over Rutejìmo. “You will
have him when Cho bìre shits in Ta chìra’s skull and not a mo ‐ment so oner.”
Someone grabbed Rutejìmo and pulled him toward thewall. Rutejìmo let out a gasp trying to call out for Gichyòbi. Heflailed around for his weapon but his tazágu slipped from hishand.
“Jìmo, Jìmo! It’s Ki dóri! Calm down, I have you.” It was Gi ‐chyòbi’s wife.
Rutejìmo let out a sob of agony as she pulled him to herchest. She was a curvy woman with no armor, a stone tenderof Wamifūko instead of a warrior like her husband. Rutejìmodidn’t know how she reached him anymore than how Gichyòbicame to res cue him. Bli n king past the stars and blood, he pe ‐ered over her shoulder just as two more warriors stepped outof the stone.
One of them walked through the bloody smear that Ru te ‐jìmo’s nose had left on the wall. The mark transferred to his
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chest as he stepped away from the stone and around Rutejìmoand Ki dóri.
So me one away from the walls cle ared his throat. “I am Chi ‐tàre and… I speak for Ko sòbyo.”
Rutejìmo turned his head to see the speaker, pausing onlyas Kidóri held him tighter and pushed him down. He frowned,but the need to see the man responsible for this attack pushedKidóri’s behavior aside. He peered over his shoulder and triedto ig nore the blood sheet ing down his face and so a king Ki ‐dóri’s arm.
The Kosòbyo man panted as he came to a stop in front ofGi chyòbi. He wore the gold and green of the clan, but his but ‐ton-down suit looked out of place so far from Kosobyo City.Sweat soaked the fabric around his neck and armpits. He heldup his hand and gulped for air.
Warriors from at three others clans gathered behind him.There were at least thir ty of them, all of them with drawn we ‐apons or glowing hands. Rutejìmo spotted the archers thathad chased him and the spear fight ers that tried to block him.
Gichyòbi grunted and twisted his spear, digging the buttinto the gro und.
Chitàre took a deep breath and straightened. His pale brownskin shone with sweat. “Y-You don’t want this fight, Wamifūko.Only a fool would take on Kosòbyo over the life of a singleman.”
“Why do you want him?”“The Ko sòbyo don’t have to an swer that.”Chitàre’s allies finished gathering behind him. None of
them were smiling, and more than a few were scratching attheir joints. A haze of their re so nance grew more obvi ous, bri n ‐ging the sharp scent of contrary magic that cut even throughthe blood coating Rutejìmo’s face. Sparks of energy hoveredbetween the warriors. It wouldn’t take much more before the
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sparks became arcs of power much like when Chimípu hadused her pow er in Ko sobyo City.
Next to Gi chyòbi, there were only two oth er heav i ly-ar ‐mored war riors. Three a gainst thir ty. Ru te jìmo had seen Gi ‐chyòbi fight be fore but nev er a gainst such ex treme odds.
“Stay down,” whis pered Ki dóri. She tight ened her arm a ro ‐und Rutejìmo, holding him close to her breast. She didn’t seemto mind the blood so a king into her dress.
Gichyòbi grunted, his voice hollow in his metal helm. “Inthat case, Wamifūko will answer with the deepest respect tothe greatest clan of the desert.” He bowed deeply before hecontinued. “The Kosòbyo can kiss each and every ass of theWamifūko for their decision to bind us to the confines of ourcity beca use of our ac tions du ring Hizo gōma’s be tray al.”
Chi tàre’s lips tight ened for a mo ment. “That was three hun ‐dred years ago.”
“Stones have a long mem o ry.”“Would you really fight us then? The Wamifūko lost the last
time they went up a gainst us.”Be hind Chi tàre, his al lies braced them selves.Gi chyòbi slammed the butt of his spear into the gro und a ‐
gain. It shook underneath Rutejìmo, the stone rumbling fromthe impact. The other two Wamifūko warriors did the same,and pow er crack led in the air a ro und him.
Ru te jìmo frowned. He had nev er felt re so nance from Gi ‐chyòbi before, but the rumble set off itching inside his joints.He ducked his head and winced at the pain from his move ‐ment. The blood seemed to have stopped, though he didn’tknow why. He reached up and touched his cheek. It came backcov ered in bloody sand.
His breath came out in a shudder. More sand blew acrosshis skin, kicked up by a breeze he hadn’t noticed before. Itclung to his fi nger and stuck to his face. He could feel it gathe ‐ring along his cuts and inju ries.
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Shifting, he peered down at his leg. Sand had gatheredalong the cut in his muscle, filling it and staunching the blood.More rolled over his thigh. At first, he looked for the patternthat said Mifúno needed him but it wasn’t anything that hehad seen before. It repeated itself, tracing rippling lines acrosshis skin. It was something, but he didn’t know what the desertwas try ing to tell him.
Rutejìmo stared in stunned shock as the desert tried tocom mu ni cate, but it was hard to con cen trate with the two war ‐riors still spe a king.
“—and you don’t re al ly have a mo u n tain left to de stroy, Wa ‐mi fūko.”
Rutejìmo glanced up to see Chitàre pointing to the top ofthe city.
Gi chyòbi gru nted. “We can re build. We did it once be fore.”Chitàre cocked his head. “You would risk destroying your
city and your clan for a single man? Someone not of yourclan?”
Ki dóri tight ened her grip on Ru te jìmo.“When it comes to the life of this man, I will send my entire
clan to war a gainst Ta chìra him self.”“And what makes this man so im por tant?”Gichyòbi paused. “Because Wamifūko tells me he is my
clan. Because all clan spirits tell their warriors to protect him.Day or night—”
Chitàre paled slightly at the reference to the night clans, butRu te jìmo doubt ed any one else saw it, not kno wing the Ko ‐sòbyo’s se cret.
“—he is one of ours. Every clan, every warrior. He may wearthe name of Shimusògo, but he is everyone’s. You should bepro tect ing him, not try ing to kill him.”
Rutejìmo shivered. Gichyòbi once mentioned the need toprotect Rutejìmo just as one of his own clan. He suspectedthat other warriors felt the same because many had come to
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his de fense when they would have oth er wise ig nored a co uri ‐er.
Chi tàre snort ed. He waved his hand ca su al ly, twist ing his fi ‐ngers around as he did. “No need for drama. I’m sure we canne goti ate.”
“I’ve made my terms,” Gi chyòbi snapped.The ground rippled near Rutejìmo. He gasped as he saw a
snake rising out from the rocks, slithering forward. With awhim per, he tried to crawl away, but Ki dóri held him still.
“D-Dóri!” he cried.Gichyòbi raised his spear, reached back, and slammed it
down without looking. The butt crushed the snake’s head intoa smear of blood. Venom burst out from the creature’s fangsand pa i nted a smo king line across the rocks. The war rior twist ‐ed the spear in the re mains of the twitch ing snake be fore re ‐turn ing it to his side.
An uncomfortable silence stretched out across the gatheredmen.
Chi tàre’s face twist ed in a scowl. “Hand over Shi mu sogo Ru ‐te jìmo, or we will kill you.”
Gichyòbi chuckled. “In that case…” He took a deep breathand spoke in a booming voice. “I am Gichyòbi, and I speak forWa mi fūko! I for bid the clans of Ko sòbyo, Po chyo gìma, Mo da ‐shìa, and Kokikóru from entering this city.” He slammed hisspear down, and a wave of power rumbled from the impact.“Ever!”
Chi tàre’s lip peeled back in a snarl. “Kill the ru nner.”The two Kosòbyo warriors charged forward, followed by the
thirty others. Their yells echoed against the stone wall behindRutejìmo. Energy crackled around them, a haze of sparks andarcs cours ing a ro und their bod ies.
Chitàre raised his hands, and a giant, translucent snakeburst out of the gro und be fore him. It rose high above the fight ‐ers as it reared back. Fangs the length of swords shone with
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green flames. Venom dripped to the ground, leaving blackenedholes in the sol id stone be neath. Two frills of green feath ers fa ‐nned out from the back of its skull.
Be hind Chi tàre, the snake con ti nued to roll out of the gro ‐und, stretching easily two chains along the hard-packed earth.When the tail came out, it was tipped with a series of rattlesand a long nee dle-like tip.
It rattled loudly and the feathers matched the rapid beat ofthe spec tral snake. Gold en eyes burned with flames, and Ru te ‐jìmo felt his at ten tion be ing drawn to ward it.
“Don’t look,” snapped Kidóri. She shoved him down. “Neverlook in the eyes of the snake.”
Rutejìmo turned away just as the other two Wamifukostepped toward the charging warriors. They both swung theirspears out in a long, wide arc. The heavy weapons whistledthrough the air before they impacted the first of the warriors.The steel edges burst into flames and sliced into bodies. Therewasn’t even a jerk as they cut through bone.
The blades cut through the first two ranks, in clud ing the Ko ‐sòbyo warriors. An explosion of boiling blood burst out in acloud, splat te ring Ru te jìmo in a he ated mist of gore.
He flinched away from it. When he looked back, he caughtsight of the spectral snake’s eyes. Something gripped his heart,and he felt pressure pinning him in place. He tried to whimper,but he couldn’t do anything but lose himself in the golden eyesthat stole his at ten tion.
Gichyòbi jumped in front of Rutejìmo and broke the line ofsight. His leap had carried him over the charging warriors. Hehit hard, swi n ging his we apon down to ward the gro und.
Instead of bouncing off the earth, the blade easily slid intothe stone as if it wasn’t there. Gichyòbi’s gauntlet dipped intothe gro und as he swung for ward. Ru te jìmo fol lowed the move ‐ment through Gichyòbi’s shoulders before the weapon cameup in front of him.
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Gichyòbi jumped again. His spear cut into the spectralsnake, affecting the translucent creature as if it was physical.The blade sliced it open, cut ting up wards through it, but in ‐stead of blood, only golden energy poured out of the gapingwo und.
The spear came out of the head of the spectral snake. Hisblade left a glowing curved line that sailed high above thesnake, al most a chain from the gro und.
Gichyòbi spun the spear around and brought the tip downin Chitàre’s head. There was a meaty thunk, but Rutejìmocouldn’t see it impact the man’s head. He did see the blade asit punched into the gro und be tween Chi tàre’s feet. Sec onds lat ‐er, a show er of blood rained down a ro und the haft.
The pow er that pi nned Ru te jìmo crum bled in stant ly. He i ‐nhaled sharply, a sob of hu mil i a tion and fear.
Kidóri pushed him down, holding him tight to her body andclose to the gro und.
Gi chyòbi bel lowed over the fight. “I will de fend Great Shi mu ‐sogo Rutejìmo as if he was Wamifūko! Anyone who darestouch him de clares a fight a gainst the mo u n tain, and will die!”
The fight sputtered for a moment. Among the sea of bloodand guts, only half of the Kosòbyo allies remained. Most ofthem were lo o king ner vous ly at their fall en com rades. They se ‐parated away from each other, giving Rutejìmo a clear view ofGi chyòbi.
The Wa mi fūko war rior stood with his spear im pal ing Chi ‐tàre from skull to groin. He stepped away from the corpse andtwist ed his spear hard. The en tire haft flashed gold and Chi ‐tàre’s body exploded in a shower of blood. The wet splatter ofbody parts rained down on the bat tle.
Gichyòbi stepped forward, his steel boots splashing in theremains of Chitàre’s brains. “Enemies of Wamifūko. You haveone chance. Either you all drop your weapons and cease yourspells or every single one of you will die. You bound your
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blood to Ko sòbyo, and you are all da n ge rous ly close to paint ‐ing the stones with your lives.” His bellow echoed against thewall.
A sword dropped to the gro und. And then an oth er.Rutejìmo held his breath, watching as the warriors started
to surre nder.One of the archers snapped up his bow and fired at Ru te ‐
jìmo. The ex plod ing ar row sailed the short dis tance, the feath ‐ers al ready glo wing.
Kidóri yanked Rutejìmo to the side and threw her hand up.The ground boiled out from underneath Rutejìmo, rising into ashell that curved toward and above them. There was a loudcrack and then a muffled explosion. The shell cracked andcrum bled, falling apart amidst smoke and flames.
Rutejìmo gasped and clutched Kidóri’s arm tightly to hischest. He could feel her sha king.
The three Wamifūko warriors responded as one. Theirspears swung wide as they stepped toward the Kosòbyo allies.Three blades sliced through flesh and bone. They cut throughglo wing swords and spears as if they were noth ing but pa per.
Their attacks continued past the bodies, the speed and forceof the blow too much for anyone to stop as they swung backinto the path of the Wamifūko themselves. The blades swungtoward the other warriors and Rutejìmo could see there was noway to dodge.
Rutejìmo cringed in anticipation of his friend’s unavoidablein jury.
The blades passed through the armored figures harmlessly.They stepped away from each other, again powering theirswings to catch the war riors that were out side of the ini tial at ‐tack.
Bodies hit the ground in a wet shower of gore. A sea of redpooled out from the remains, soaking into the cracks andgouges of the gro und.
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“And that,” whispered Kidóri, “is why you stay down. Theblades of Wa mi fūko can not harm stone.”
Gichyòbi stepped over to Rutejìmo, his boots squelching inthe gore. As he did, he spoke sharply to the other two warriors.“Seal the city, we are at war.”
Both men bowed their heads, brought their spears up abovetheir heads, and then slammed the butts against the ground.Power burst from the impact, and a boom rumbled throughthe gro und. They raised them up and slammed them down a ‐gain. A beat of one, two, one, and then four. There was a longpause and then they re pe ated it.
More booms echoed from the gates. Rutejìmo turned tolook at the nearest gate. The two guards were moving. Oneslammed his spear down in the same pattern as the others.The other guard blocked the entrance and pushed back theline of merchants entering the city. Further down the line, theoth er guards did the same.
At all but the nearest gate, stone doors closed behind theguards. Amid the enraged cries, the guards stepped back intothe stone and dis ap peared.
Gi chyòbi bent down in front of Ru te jìmo. “Can you walk?”Ru te jìmo shook his head. “I-I don’t think so.”“Here, Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo, let me help you.”Without letting go of his spear, Gichyòbi shoved his gauntlet
into the ground underneath Rutejìmo and pulled up. At thesame time, Ki dóri did the same and they bal anced him be ‐tween the two of them.
Ru te jìmo cri nged as his ru ined leg thumped a gainst the gro ‐und. He reflectively pulled at it, and to his surprise, it lifted offthe gro und. The wo und burned but the mus cles still worked.
He gasped and tried again, lifting his foot up and setting itdown. It hurt, but then again—everything hurt. He pushedthrough the pain and set his foot down. His toe dragged a ‐
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gainst the ground where Gichyòbi and Kidóri were carryinghim to ward the gate. “S-Stop, please.”
Both of the Wamifūko stopped. Gichyòbi turned to him, thehorse helm hid ing his face. “Jìmo?”
Rutejìmo slipped his hand down and pressed it against hiswound. He could feel the burn of the cut shooting up his leg,but it was no longer a deep slash. Instead, the sand hadpacked tight ly into the wo und.
He tried to look down at it, but a pressure rose in his head.It felt like the spectral snake which had drawn his attention,but in stead of pulling his eyes to ward it, he felt his gaze slip ‐ping away from the cut. Concentrating, he looked harder at thewo und, trac ing his hand down to the bloody cut.
For the briefest of moments, he saw sparkling yellow-greeneyes in his leg but then the men tal pres sure tore his gaze away.
Gulping, Rutejìmo set his foot down again. His bare feetsplashed against someone’s intestines. He ignored the goreand put more pressure on it, using Gichyòbi for balance as hedid.
When his leg held, he pulled away from the two Wa mi fūko.“You can stand?” Ki dóri so u nded sur prise.“Y-Yes.”Gi chyòbi lo oked a ro und, the met al of his ar mor scra ping to ‐
geth er with his move ment. “We are ex posed out here. Wa mi ‐fūko will pro tect you for as long as you are with in the walls.”
Curious and terrified, he made a hesitant step, and his legheld. He took another. Pain radiated from the wound, but themus cles we ren’t ru ined.
He took a deep breath. He didn’t know what Mifúno haddone or how she did it, but he could keep moving. Gulping, heforced himself through the pain toward the open gate. He wasthank ful that he had al lies in the city but dre aded the knowl ‐edge that Mi fúno had tak en a per son al i n ter est in the re ma i ‐nder of his short life.
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Chapter 24
Declaration of War
When one claims to speak for a spirit, they take responsibility for the entireclan.
—CulturalDifferencesinPractice
u te jìmo cringed as Kidóri grabbed his chin with one handand jammed an ice-covered cloth against his face. She groundit against his broken nose, sending bursts of pain along hischeeks and fo re head, be fore shov ing it flat a gainst his face.
He let out a cry and tried to es cape, buck ing vi o lent ly to dis ‐lodge her, and clawing at the ground and her thighs. His touchleft bloody smears along her dress and skin. He didn’t have thestrength to buck off the woman strad dling his chest and pi n ‐ning him to the hard mattress. The cold of the cloth suffocatedhim but quick ly numbed his skin.
“I’m almost done,” she said as she leaned forward. Her handslipped from his chin, but he had no chance to pull away asshe gripped both sides of his face tightly and jammed herthumbs a gainst the ragged ridge of his nose.
“No, no, don’t do—” he start ed.She forced the cartilage back in place, and his cry became a
high-pitched wail that echoed pa i nful ly a gainst the walls.
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Unable to see past the lights exploding across his vision,Rutejìmo tensed and waited for the agony to pass. For longmoments he wondered if he was going to die, but when shepulled back her hands, the sharp pain quickly became a dullthrob. She pulled the cloth away, the fabric stained bright withhis blood.
A few rivers of melting ice mixed with tears rolled down hischeeks as he blinked and tried to focus. It took more effort torelease his hand away from her thigh; he didn’t rememberwhen he stopped flail ing and grabbed her.
Kidóri leaned back until her buttocks rested against hiships. “That’s the best I can do. You are probably going to have acrook for the rest of your life, though.”
She le aned over and grabbed a roll of ban dages.He focused on her movements, watching her through the
haze of tears in his eyes. He didn’t think he was going to havelong to live, but it wasn’t because of the broken nose. The fightdemonstrated that he wasn’t able to defend himself. The onlything he could do was run, and even then they almost killedhim.
Ki dóri smiled sad ly as she u nrolled a few feet of the ban ‐dage. “This will ache for a little bit, but it will feel better soon.Just a few more sec onds, do you think you can take it? Gi ‐chyòbi has a nice beer wait ing for you.”
Even with the agony ra di at ing across his face, Ru te jìmo nod ‐ded. “N-No pro mis es that I won’t cry more.”
An emotion flashed across her face, regret and sadness heguessed, but she nodded instead of saying anything. With thesame lack of grace, she lifted his head and began to wrap hisnose and face with gauze. Her touch seared his nerves, but thepain was nothing compared to the setting of the cartilage orthe initial impact with the wall. A whimper escaped his lips,but he clamped down on it for the long sec onds be fore she fin ‐ished.
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When she finished, she rested the back of her hand againsthis cheek. There was sadness and something else in her eyes,and he felt an un com fort able twist ing in his stom ach. He lo ‐oked away sharply to avoid the chance she might try to explainher emo tions.
In the door to the room, he saw Gichyòbi’s and Kidóri’s twoyoungest children, a boy and a girl, watching curiously. Bothwere almost old enough to leave the home, but Rutejìmo stillre mem bered when they were ba bies.
Kidóri crawled off him and wiped her hands on a towel.“Don’t wor ry, I’m sure Pábyo will think it is hand some.”
He turned away from the children and shoved himself intoa sitting position. The guest bed, covered with an old blanket,creaked under his weight. His injuries twinged in response tohis move ment, sti fled by the drugs in his ve ins and the ban ‐dages around his limbs. He looked down at his wrapped hand.The burns along his palms and the cuts from the arrows ached,but he was still alive. Looking up, he forced a smile across hisface. “Thank you, Great Wa mi fuko Ki dóri.”
Kidóri patted him lightly on the head. “Don’t give me that‘great’ shit, Jìmo. I’m thank ful you are alive.”
When she sat on the bed, it tilted alarmingly to the side. Atthe door, the two children crept further inside. She turned herhead and held up her hand. “Tèji, bring up some of the stewand your fa ther’s bread. Wait, bring up yes ter day’s bread. To ‐day’s experiment was horrible.” All three made a face. “AndÓpi, draw a cou ple mugs of the good lager.”
“Hey!” rum bled Gi chyòbi as he came up be hind his chil ‐dren. He still wore his heavy armor but carried his horse-shaped helm underneath his arm. The metal creaked witheach movement. “Who has the right to give away my goodstuff?”
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Ki dóri lo oked up at him. “Do you want to sleep in the ba se ‐ment?” Her tone was serious, but Rutejìmo knew they teasedeach oth er heav i ly. He couldn’t help but smile a lit tle.
“At least the lager doesn’t snore.” Gichyòbi entered the roomshoulder first, then straightened inside. “But I’m afraid I needJìmo for two very se ri ous tasks first.”
Ru te jìmo tensed at his low voice.“I’m sorry,” Kidóri said to him before she stood up. “I’ll have
some cold mugs wait ing for you when you get back.”She slipped a ro und her hus band and pulled the two chil ‐
dren out of the room. The wo oden door closed be hind her.Gi chyòbi lo oked a ro und the room for a mo ment, then ges ‐
tured to the bed. “May I sit, Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo?”The ten sion in Ru te jìmo’s stom ach i n ten si fied. Gi chyòbi nev ‐
er used formal names inside his house, not with Rutejìmo. Henodded and then clutched the bed, knowing that the heavyweight would thre a ten to dis lodge him.
Gichyòbi sat slowly down, but it caused the entire bed toshift under the heavy weight. The nearest leg to the armoredman cracked but held. “The co un cil is liste ning right now.”
“C-Council?” Rutejìmo’s voice cracked and he winced at thesound of it. Then whimpered again as his muscles protestedhis move ment.
“After the events in our… past, the Wamifūko decided to beled by a council of five elders. Obviously, I’m Master of theGates, but there is also the Mistress of the Streets, Master ofthe Hearth, and the Mis tress of the Maps. The last one is the el ‐dest of the el ders and co or di nates be tween the four of us.” Gi ‐chyòbi scratched his face before he reached out and pressedhis palm against the stone wall near the bed. “I’d give youmore of our his to ry, but we are pressed for time. We need an ‐swers and you’re the only one who can give them.”
Rutejìmo nodded and pressed his bandaged hands into hislap. He lo oked at Gi chyòbi’s hand. The ges ture was too deli be ‐
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rate. He remembered how the warriors came out of the stone,some thing he didn’t know the Wa mi fūko were ca pa ble of.
“Why was Ko sòbyo chas ing you, Ru te jìmo?”Rutejìmo glanced at Gichyòbi’s face and then at his hand.
He struggled for his words for a moment, then gestured to thewall. “Do I have to touch the wall to an swer?”
Gichyòbi smiled broadly. “No. They can feel the vibrations ofyour voice.”
“I notice—” Rutejìmo stopped. In all the years that he hadknown Gichyòbi, he had never heard of the Wamifūko’s abilityto hear through stone. It was obvi ous ly a se cret and not some ‐thing to talk about. He cleared his throat and said, “When wewere in Kosobyo City, we… accidentally took on a job to delivera mes sage. The woman who hired us was killed, and the Ko ‐sòbyo at tacked us.”
“Do you know why?” Gi chyòbi’s smile had dis ap peared.Ru te jìmo nod ded, the me mo ries of Desòchu’s last hours ru ‐
shing into the front of his mind.“Can you tell us?”Ru te jìmo shook his head.“What hap pened?” asked Gi chyòbi.“Great Shi mu sogo Desòchu died to give us a chance to es ‐
cape. He took on the clans and… told me… he told me to run. Iwas a…” Ru te jìmo al most said “cow ard” but then he re mem ‐bered A te fómu’s words.
Tears burned in his eyes. “I couldn’t stop him. He had todo… what he had to do.”
Gichyòbi spoke in a low voice, “And you did what you weresupposed to do. I know it won’t give comfort, but Desòchuwouldn’t have wa nted you to wait for him.”
Rutejìmo wiped the tears from his face and looked wherethey soaked into his blood-flecked bandages. “I know. But itdoesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“It nev er does,” Gi chyòbi said in a ha u nted voice.
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“W-We know what the message says. I have part of it in mycase.” Rutejìmo looked around sharply until he saw his bag ona shelf. “It’s in there,” he pointed, “but we don’t know if we cantell any one. It may be a lie, but whether truth or not, it is da n ge ‐rous to any one who knows. That’s why I shouldn’t tell any one.”
He paused for a moment before he continued speaking.“We can’t tell if Kosòbyo is trying to kill us because they thinkit’s true or because it is false. Either way, they are willing to doany thing to pre vent it from be ing known. We were try ing to de ‐liver it back to the clan to make a decision on how to proceedand whether to warn oth ers.”
Rutejìmo’s throat tightened. He wasn’t sure what else hecould say without revealing everything. “I-I hope the othersmade it. I can’t be the only one.”
“Ru te jìmo.”Ru te jìmo closed his eyes.“Please tell us the mes sage.” Gi chyòbi’s tone was in sis tent.Rutejìmo froze. There was something in the warrior’s eyes.
He was hold ing some thing back from Ru te jìmo.Clearing his throat, Rutejìmo stared into his friend’s eyes.
“You said two things.”Gichyòbi bowed his head. “Forgive me, Great Shimusogo
Rutejìmo, but I have to pick the one that threatens my clanvers es the one that keeps our fri end ship.”
Ice ran down Rutejìmo’s spine, pooling in his stomach. Heheld his breath and shook his head. “W-What hap pened?”
Gichyòbi glanced at the wall, then slowly pulled his handaway from it. “We dis agree,” he said soft ly.
“Please, Great Wa mi fuko Gi chyòbi. What hap pened?”The warrior looked at the stone and then back. “Last night,
Great Shi mu sogo Hyo nèku e n tered the city with the body of—”Rutejìmo inhaled sharply. “No…” The world spun violently
a ro und him and he couldn’t fo cus through the sud den tears.
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“—Great Shimusogo Kiríshi. They were ambushed outsideof a Ti fu kòmi oa sis last night.”
“She was killed?”“Yes, by the Mo da shìa who were also try ing to kill you. I sus ‐
pect that the re asons are the same.”Rutejìmo shook his head, swaying as he lost his balance. He
started to fall but Gichyòbi caught him. “T-they weren’t evenpart of our group.”
“Which means that Kosòbyo may be going after all of theShi mu sògo.”
Pushing away from Gichyòbi, Rutejìmo tried to crawl out ofbed. “I-I need to see them.”
“Great Shi mu sogo Hyo nèku is—”“He’s my wife’s father!” Rutejìmo grabbed the armored arm.
“He’s the man who cares for my children! If they died becauseof me, I… I…” He sobbed and bowed his head. “I can’t fail themtoo.”
Gichyòbi stood up and held out his hand. “Come, I will dealwith the council later.” He glared at the wall. “Or sooner, but itwasn’t our right to hold knowl edge of your clan.”
Rutejìmo could barely stand, but knowing that Hyonèkuwas in the city pushed him forward. He grabbed the bone caseand slung it over his shoul der. Leav ing the rest of his belo n ‐gings, he staggered out of Gichyòbi’s house while leaning onthe war rior.
The older man led him down empty streets normally packedin the mid dle of the day. Se e ing the de sert ed street left Ru te ‐jìmo uncomfortable. He had spent months in the city, and itwas never quiet before. The silence ground down on him, andhe shiv ered from the pres sure.
As they crossed a thoroughfare, Rutejìmo peered down thestreet to see a Wa mi fūko war rior stand ing in the ce nter of an i ‐ntersection. The warrior held his weapon ready and burned
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with glowing flames. The stone underneath the armored feetwas scorched in a wide cir cle.
Be yond the war rior, he saw the nor mal crowds of the city.“We’ve al ready had two at tempts to break into the city,” ex ‐
plained the warrior. “Whatever message you have has raisedthe ire of many clans. I’ve ordered a three-block length fromyou cle ared of eve ry one.”
“I-I didn’t mean for this to hap pen.”“No, but the Wamifūko respond seriously when clans we
previously respected decide to break our rules. The Kokikóruand Kosòbyo have both tried to force their way into the citywhile the Po chyo gìma is sim ply thre a te ning to.”
Ru te jìmo felt very small.Gichyòbi stopped in front of a building with bricked-over
windows. A guard stood in the entrance to the building. “We’rehere.”
The guard stepped aside and saluted by slamming the buttof his spear into the ground. Rutejìmo expected a rumblingboom but heard only the crack of wood on stone.
Following Gichyòbi, Rutejìmo entered. Dust and spiderwebsin di cat ed the build ing had been a ba n doned for some time. Re ‐cent traffic marked a blood-flecked path toward the bedroomwhile a path of something being dragged led toward thekitchen area.
He felt drawn to the kitchen, knowing there was a bodythere. His duties as a kojinōmi pressed against his thoughts,though no breeze could reach him inside the city to remindhim of his du ties.
In the liv ing room, two gray dogs sat near the en trance, sta ‐ined with blood. They had been panting, but they stopped assoon as Ru te jìmo e n tered the room. Two sets of brown eyes re ‐gard ed him in e erie si lence.
Rutejìmo bowed to the dogs. The Tifukòmi clan could seethrough their an i mal’s eyes.
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Gichyòbi grunted. “Great Tifukomi Kamanìo refused toleave your wife’s fa ther’s side.”
“Because the Tifukòmi failed the Shimusògo,” said an oldman as he stepped out of one bed room. “And we will not con ti ‐nue that fail ure by a ba n do ning our charge.”
The years had worn on Kamanìo. The short man’s eyes werehazy, one more than the other, but they were just as sad as theday he saved Rutejìmo from dying in the desert. He walkedwith a cane, one leg trailing behind. He had fresh scars layeredover old ones, the red lines trac ing his nose and cheek. His out ‐fit, a simple tunic of red and white, had been recently stainedwith blood.
Ru te jìmo bowed. “Great Ti fu komi Ka ma nìo.”Kamanìo and both dogs bowed in return. “Great Shimusogo
Rutejìmo, I cannot ask for forgiveness from you. I know whatthe one we lost means to you.” He staggered forward. “Please,ac cept my shame.” He knelt in front of Ru te jìmo.
Ru te jìmo held up his hand. “No, don’t do this.”Kamanìo raised his head, baring his throat. In his hand, he
held a knife.“No, I will not.”“Ti fu kòmi’s hon or de mands you take this.”Kamanìo’s hand was steady as the tip of the blade caught
the light.Power bubbled up inside Rutejìmo. He shook his head as it
rushed up to fill him. It wasn’t the euphoria of Shimusògo butthe raw pow er of Mi fúno, im per son al and ter ri ble. The whis ‐pers demanded Rutejìmo take the throat presented, to acceptthe honorable death of a clan that had broken a promise to thedesert.
Energy crackled along Gichyòbi’s spear and armor. Goldenlines spread out between Kamanìo and his two dogs, forming awebbing of emotion and thoughts shared between human andan i mal. Motes of en er gy rose from the war riors and drift ed to ‐
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ward Rutejìmo, swirling as they brushed against the powerwelling out of Ru te jìmo.
Rutejìmo whimpered as he fought the urge to grab the knifeout of the old man’s hand. He bit down on his lip, drawingblood. With an oth er shake, he slapped the knife from Ka ma ‐nìo’s hand. “No!”
As rapidly as it appeared, the power faded. It left Rutejìmosway ing. He clutched blind ly for bal ance, his hands scraped a ‐gainst Gi chyòbi’s ar mored side.
Gi chyòbi grabbed him by the el bow and held him steady.Ka ma nìo’s and Gi chyòbi’s eyes were wide when Ru te jìmo fi ‐
nal ly lo oked up.Rutejìmo turned back to the man kneeling in front of him.
“I can’t take a life after seeing so much death.” He held out hisshaking hand. “You had to say what you must say, but I honorTifukòmi by not accepting the life of one of their own. Deathhas surrounded me on this run and, I have no doubt, there willbe more be fore it is done.”
Kamanìo bowed his head. “I accept your decision, Great…Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo.”
Unable to concentrate on Kamanìo’s hesitation, Rutejìmopushed him self off Gi chyòbi and stag gered to ward the bed ‐room. No one stopped him as he inched into the room, afraidof what he would see.
Hyonèku had been laid out across a bed. His body waswrapped in bandages secured with leather thongs, includingone set across his right eye. He could see where the edge of theslash came down across Hyonèku’s face, ending at his cheek.There were more on his chest, arms, and sides. Blood seepedthrough the fabric everywhere, mapping out half a dozen cutsthat would have killed a less er man.
Cloth had been wrapped around his throat, and there was alarge blot of crimson dangerously close to his jugular. Thecloth glis tened with fresh blood, but it wasn’t po u ring out.
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Sadness punched Rutejìmo in the gut. He staggered furtherin and dropped to his knees a gainst the side of the bed.
Hyonèku turned his head toward him, but the older man’sone good eye didn’t focus. There was blood surrounding hisgreen iris and his pupil was large.
Rutejìmo lowered his gaze to trace a sweeping line fromHyonèku’s ruined eye, to his throat, to his shoulder where onlya bandaged stump remained. Bits of charred flesh stuck out ofthe coils of cloth. The sight of an injured Hyonèku remindedRu te jìmo of when an oth er fri end had died. Ge mènyo had fall ‐en from the cliff saving a little girl but he had died in theprocess.
Fighting the emotions welling up within him, Rutejìmoforced him self to con ti nue in spect ing Hyo nèku.
The older man’s leg was wrapped in two strips of wood andban dages. There was no blood, but Ru te jìmo was fa mil iar e ‐nough with broken bones to know what the two lumps meant:both bones were bro ken.
Tears ran down Ru te jìmo’s cheek as he pressed a hand a ‐gainst Hyo nèku’s chest. He didn’t feel the pres sure from Mi ‐fúno to do anything, though he searched his heart for any hintthat the desert desired Hyonèku. When he felt nothing, he letout a soft gasp of re lief.
Hyo nèku jerked. “J-Jìmo?”“Yes, I’m here.”Hyonèku smiled, though it faded almost instantly. “I
thought I re cong… knew that whimpe ring.”Ru te jìmo flushed. “I wasn’t whimpe ring.”Hyonèku chuckled and then groaned. “No, you weren’t,
were you? Don’t worry, I’m not dead.” He paused. “Not… areyou?”
Ru te jìmo shook his head. “I’m not here for you, old man.”“Ríshi?” The mus cles of Hyo nèku’s face tight ened.“She’s dead, I’ve heard.”
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“I tried to save her, but there were too many. They am ‐bushed us,” Hyonèku coughed and clutched his stomach withhis good hand, “right at the end of the day. Snakes, scorpions,and so much mag ic. I-I lost her when they pulled me down…”
“Her body is in the oth er room.”Hyonèku looked at Rutejìmo, his eyes bloodshot and tears
welling. “W-Will you be the one?”Rutejìmo caught Hyonèku’s only hand. “Yes, I will guide her.
I pro mise.”Ma pábyo’s fa ther gripped him tight ly.“I pro mise,” Ru te jìmo re pe ated.“Could you also… promise to tell Desòchu and Chimípu to
slaugh ter the bas tards? Every sin gle one of them?”A sob rose in Rutejìmo’s throat. He shook his head and held
the hand tight ly.“Jìmo?”It took all Rutejìmo’s strength to speak. “Great Shimusogo
Desòchu is dead, killed by the Ko sòbyo.”Hyonèku’s hand gripped Rutejìmo’s tightly. “Sòchu? Sòchu
is dead? How? Why?”Rutejìmo fought his own tears. “Ni… one of us accepted a
job that the others didn’t want to take. We were attacked andhad to flee the city. We were planning on running out as soonas Tachìra rose, but they were on us. My… my brother slowedthem down so we could run.”
He lost control of his emotions and the tears poured downhis cheeks. “I had… I had… I had to leave him behind beforethey killed him.”
In the silence that filled the room, Rutejìmo glanced at thedoor where both Gi chyòbi and one of the dogs stood. He con si ‐dered what would happen if he explained the message. After along moment, he knew he owed Hyonèku more details of whatlead to his wife’s death. “One mo ment. Great Wa mi fuko Gi ‐chyòbi?”
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“Yes, Great Shimusogo Rutejìmo?” Gichyòbi’s voice wastense.
“If I tell only you, can you decide if you want the rest of yourclan to know?”
Gi chyòbi glanced at the walls and then nod ded. “The co un ‐cil has with drawn, Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo.”
Ru te jìmo turned his at ten tion to the dog next to the ar ‐mored warrior. “Whoever knows this will make an enemy ofKo sòbyo. Are you will ing to re main?”
The dog slipped past Rutejìmo to enter the room and satdown near the bed. A moment later, Kamanìo stepped up tothe door. All of them entered before Gichyòbi closed the doorbe hind him.
Rutejìmo turned back to Hyonèku. “It started when we firstar rived at the city…” He told the sto ry the best he could, burst ‐ing into tears when he reached Desòchu’s death but con ti nu ‐ing on to describe Nifùni’s body when he finally found himand the final rites he gave the desecrated corpse of the manwho was re spon si ble for Desòchu’s death.
When he finished, he was weak. He slumped against thebed and slid down to the ground. The effort to tell the story lefthim with no en er gy to re main up right. In the si lence that fol ‐lowed, he could only hear his own panting and felt the shakingof his body from his rapid ly beat ing heart.
“I-I had no right to go a gainst our de ci sion to keep it a se ‐cret. Nifùni did the same and people died. Telling you… peoplewill die.”
Gichyòbi shook his head. He was paler than Rutejìmo hadever seen him before. He leaned against the wall with his armscrossed. “Kosòbyo is turning against the sun? No wonder theyare willing to kill to keep that a secret. Only one great clan hasever betrayed Tachìra and… hundreds of thousands died in thewar that followed. Old wounds, rivalries, and hatreds opened
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up as the line between day and night blurred. As Tachìra andCho bìre fought, so did all of us.”
Ka ma nìo sat on the floor be tween his two dogs. “When Hizo ‐gōma betrayed Tachìra, the stars in the night withered anddied. Our nights are dark because of the people who wereslaugh tered in those wars.”
Rutejìmo shivered at the forbidden clan’s name, and hismany memories of staring up at the night sky. There were lessthan a hundred stars at night, but that had been the case forcen tu ries. The idea that a clan cha n ging alle gi an ces could im ‐pact the world so much ter ri fied him.
Kamanìo continued. “If Kosòbyo does the same, we don’tknow what horrors will happen. We can’t allow the snake to dothis.”
Rutejìmo squeezed Hyonèku’s hand, he had not let go of itthe en tire time he spoke. “I… we don’t know if it’s a lie.”
“It’s the truth,” said Kamanìo sharply, “and I’m willing to putmy clan be hind it to say that.”
Ru te jìmo shook his head. “How can you know?”“If this woman had written a lie, they would be discrediting
you. We would see runners going out to the cities and oases,not fight ers and war riors set ting am bush es to kill you. Ko ‐sòbyo has always been a manipulative snake, but he’s goingfor the throat. And doing so quietly. That means there are notmany su nris es be fore the snake bites Ta chìra.”
Gichyòbi grunted and glanced at the wall. He shook hishead and then looked back to Rutejìmo. “Do we do nothingand let Shi mu sògo stand on their own?”
“Tifukòmi will stand by Shimusògo,” announced Kamanìo,“I will not let the snake bathe my desert in blood.”
Both dogs stood up sharply in re spo nse.Gichyòbi tilted his head in acknowledgment. He held up his
hand for a moment and stared at the wall. When he turnedback, Rutejìmo could see a hardness in his eyes. “Making that
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choice is to declare war on Kosòbyo, Great Tifukomi Kamanìo.Are you willing to risk your clan against the most powerful ofTa chìra’s al lies?”
“Former allies of the sun. And that snake will have a lot lessonce the desert knows his plans.”
Hyonèku stirred. “Couriers die delivering messages likethis.” He slumped back to the bed, spe a king to the ceil ing to fin ‐ish. “Ríshi died because of this message. Kosòbyo has alreadyde clared war on my fam i ly and my clan. I can’t speak for Shi ‐mu sògo but you can guess my vote.”
Gi chyòbi lo oked at Ru te jìmo.“I…” Ru te jìmo sniffed. “I don’t know what to say.”“Jìmo,” cro aked Hyo nèku. “You speak for Shi mu sògo here.”Rutejìmo fought back the tears. He squeezed Hyonèku’s
hand one last time be fore stagge ring to his feet. He took a mo ‐ment to steady himself. When he did, he took a deep breath. “I-I am Ru te jìmo, and I speak for Shi mu sògo.”
He had never before spoken for the Shimusògo clan with anelder present, but Hyonèku said nothing. Gulping, he forcedhimself to keep speaking even as he shook violently from theeffort. “Kosòbyo has declared war on my clan, and I need help.Will you?”
Gi chyòbi stood up. “I am Gi chyòbi, and I speak for the Wa ‐mifūko. We will defend the Shimusògo with our lives, and ifthat means I have to shit on Kosòbyo’s corpse to do so, then wewill go to war. The Shimusògo and his allies will find shelter inour mo u n tain for as long as the sun ris es.”
Both dogs barked as Ka ma nìo stood for ward. “I am Ka ma ‐nìo, and I speak for Tifukòmi. The oases will offer no shelter toKo sòbyo for as long as the sun ris es.”
Ru te jìmo glanced at Hyo nèku.Hyonèku nodded, his eyes glistening. “You always surprised
me, boy. I nev er thought it would come to this.”
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With a smile, Rutejìmo shook his head. He looked back atthe others. He had just formally declared war on Kosòbyo. Therealization of what he had done was immense, crushing downon him. He never wanted the responsibility for this, but it wasthe only thing he could do.
Silence filled the room. It wasn’t a moment of celebration,but a mo ment of hes i ta tion.
To break it, Ru te jìmo cle ared his throat. “I need to burn Ki ‐ríshi tonight.”
The si lence shift ed in stant ly as eve ry one stared at him.“Are you insane!?” roared Gichyòbi. “You just declared war
on the Kosòbyo and want to go out of the city limits where Ican’t pro tect you!?”
“Yes!” snapped Rutejìmo, “because she is my wife’s motherand I pro mised Hyo nèku. Her soul de serves to be te nded.”
“No,” Hyonèku groaned as he sat up, “you can’t honor thatpro mise. Not aft er what—”
“Other kojinōmi live in this city,” added Gichyòbi. “They willdo it.”
Ka ma nìo and the dogs jo ined in, yelling and bark ing.Ru te jìmo knew he should let an oth er ko ji nōmi burn Ki ‐
ríshi’s body, but it was something more than just caring for thewoman who helped him and raised his wife. He needed to doit for Ma pábyo, his clan, and him self.
The others continued to yell at him, filling the tiny roomwith over whelm ing noise. It beat a gainst him, slam ming a ‐gainst his chest, and cru shing him with the pres sure. Even Hyo ‐nèku joined in the yelling, though his weak voice was drownedout by Gi chyòbi, Ka ma nìo, and the dogs.
He waited a few seconds and then drew in his breath. “I amRutejìmo, and I speak for Mifúno!” His voice slammed againstthe walls of the room and the power crackled around him. Itsparked along Gichyòbi’s weapon and the connection with the
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pack. Arcs of lightning speared through the air and scorchedthe stone as a field of bril li ant, ma gen ta light sur ro u nded him.
The so und of his voice didn’t echo back. In stead, a suff o cat ‐ing silence draped over the tiny room. A whisper of windslipped through the cracks of the door, sending streamers ofsand cascad ing across the floor.
Eve ry one stepped back from Ru te jìmo, their faces pale. Ru ‐tejìmo stood in the silence. The fear he felt declaring war wascompletely gone, replaced with a determination to perform hisduty.
Hyonèku whispered, “What happened to you, Rutejìmo?How can you speak for her? You’ll… she’ll kill you.”
The whispers rising in the back of his head made it easier tospeak for Mifúno than Shimusògo. Rutejìmo jumped forward.“I lost my brother, and I lost my clan. People are dying aroundme, but I have oblig a tions to two spir its, not one. I am a ko ji ‐nōmi—”
Eve ry one else ducked their head at the for bid den name.“—and Kiríshi is still my friend and my family. She is the
mother of my wife. She deserves my hand on her final path.So, I ask you as a friend, will you protect me while I honorher?”
“Not even Ko sòbyo would i nter rupt a ko ji nōmi,” said Gi ‐chyòbi, “they aren’t that stupid. That would be like declaringwar on the sand it self.”
Ru te jìmo lo oked at him, a silent ques tion.Gi chyòbi shook his head. “But I would say the same for turn ‐
ing away from the sun. No, Kosòbyo would attack you, if itmeant keeping you silent. I will protect you though the rest ofWa mi fūko will not.”
Ka ma nìo bowed. “The Ti fu kòmi will die to shield you.”Rutejìmo turned to Hyonèku and knelt again. “I know you
dis agree, but—”
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“No,” interrupted Hyonèku, “I don’t. I just… never thoughtthe boy who almost failed his rites would ever be willing torisk his own life for this.” He reached out and pulled Rutejìmointo his chest; the gesture was weak, but Rutejìmo sank intothe em brace.
Hyonèku whispered into Rutejìmo’s ear. “I’m proud of you,more than I have the words to tell you. Thank you for… every ‐thing.”
Rutejìmo hugged him back. If Rutejìmo’s brother could diein the flames of glo ry, then he could do the same.
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Chapter 25
Sneaking Out
Wa mi fūko have many se crets hid den in their stones.—Wa mi fuko E fe shīri
hat about your purification ritual?” asked Gichyòbi asthey stood in front of his house. “Walking naked in the desertwith a dozen clans looking for you is a good way to die. Not tomention, you still have to come back for your messenger caseand clothes.”
Rutejìmo looked up. It was almost sunset and he could feelTachìra approaching the horizon. Pink suffused the sky exceptfor a few dark clouds spread ing above the city. He thought a ‐bout A te fómu’s words and the yo ung ko ji nōmi he met near Ko ‐sobyo City. “Mifúno will forgive me. I’ll perform the ritual untilsu nrise and then run.”
Gi chyòbi lo oked at him with an u n re ad able ex pres sion.“I will be okay, Chyòbi,” said Rutejìmo in a voice that was
more co n fi dent than he felt.The warrior cleared his throat. “The bone field is a quarter
mile out of the city, well beyond the limits that Wamifūko werebound to their city. The spotters say that no one is near there.
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The Tifukòmi are bringing Kir—her—the body there now aftertak ing the long way a ro und.”
Rutejìmo had been there more than once as he performedthe du ties of the ko ji nōmi in the city. He glanced a ro und be ‐fore he responded. “Unless they know to look for it, they won’tsee the fires. And the Wamifūko pay to keep it well stocked forany of the ko ji nōmi who serve the city.”
“You mean they think you’d be a fool to do this. They knowwhat you are.”
Rutejìmo sighed. “I have to, Chyòbi. She’s… family, and Icouldn’t face Pábyo kno wing that I didn’t do what I had to do.”
“You could, and you would have.”“But, this is…” Ru te jìmo bowed his head. “I just have to.”“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to drive some
sense into you. This is suicide, both the ritual and running onyour own.”
“No one else in the city can out run the Shi mu sògo.”“That isn’t true ei ther.”“My family is in that valley.” Rutejìmo turned to him. “My
grandmother, my boy and girl. The others that I grew up with.Those are the people who bled for me and stood by me. I can’tlet them be surprised by Kosòbyo attacking any more than youcould abandon your family and the city. I can’t lose anyoneelse just beca use of this mes sage.”
Gi chyòbi worked his jaw for a mo ment. His gaunt let cre ‐aked as he tight ened his fist.
“I’m not the stro ngest or the fastest, but I have to try.”A nod. “Then, come into my house. We’ll leave by the other
exit.”Stunned, Rutejìmo followed the warrior into the house.
“Here? We can leave from here? There is—”When he saw a massive snake in the living room, he
stopped. It took him a second to realize a frying pan hadcrushed its head. Judging from the wounds in the snake’s body,
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it had been hit repeatedly until its skull was nothing more thanred paste. The smell of cooking brain filled the room, not tomen tion the fried eggs that were splat tered across the stone.
Kidóri stood next to another Wamifūko warrior. They wereboth looking at the twitching remains of the snake. She wasshaking as she reached for the ground. Below her hand, thestone bub bled like soup.
“I take it we had vis i tors?” rum bled Gi chyòbi.Kidóri jumped before she turned on him. “Chyòbi, move
your ass. This is the sec ond snake I’ve killed in the last hour.”“The chil dren?”“We moved them to the co un cil hall. Ópi is cur rent ly draw ‐
ing on the sacred scrolls, but I’d rather they were protectedthen draw them into this. Snakes can’t crawl through stone,but we can’t leave them there for long. They a ren’t ready for it.”
Gi chyòbi gru nted. “We’re leav ing through the cel lar. Now.”Her eyes widened. Turning to the warrior, she smacked him
lightly. “Guard the house,” she snapped before heading into thekitchen.
Gichyòbi led Rutejìmo into the basement filled with largebar rels of lager.
The large man shoved bar rels and shelves out of the way un ‐til he re vealed a large expa nse of stone wall.
“That’s a wall.” Ru te jìmo said, u nhelp ful ly.“Actually, a solid vein of chisogamāri that goes from here
clear past the bone field. We can step out there safe ly.”“It’s sol id rock.”Gichyòbi turned to him. “Rutejìmo, I’m not going to lie. This
is going to be one of the most painful experiences in your life.Men have died going through this. You will feel rock tearingyou apart, shredding you down into less than paste. The painis probably more than anyone else could imagine, but I knowyou can survive this. This is what the Wamifūko can do, butthat doesn’t mean you have to.”
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Ru te jìmo lo oked at the stone wall. He felt sick to his stom ‐ach, but de ter mined. “Are you try ing to scare me off?”
“Yes,” came the re ply a sec ond lat er.Footsteps echoed against the stairs, and then Kidóri rushed
in with two packs. One was Rutejìmo’s old pack, now swellingat the seams with supplies. The other was a new bag, alsofilled to the brim. She stopped in front of Rutejìmo. “I took outmost of your u n ne eded belo n gings, in clud ing your…” she lo ‐oked away, “stones. I’ll send them home with Hyo nèku.”
Ru te jìmo pulled her into a hug. “Thank you, Great Wa mi ‐fuko Ki dóri.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll take care of your wife’sfather. I promise you, no snake will reach him so long as thisfamily draws a breath. And he will have a full escort goinghome if he likes it or not.”
“Thank you.”“Be safe, Jìmo. We all love you.”He hugged her tight ly. “And I love all of you.”She pulled away with tears in her eyes. Turning around, she
he aded up the stairs with out an oth er word.Gichyòbi held out his hand. “She said what I can’t. Ready,
fool?”Ru te jìmo took his hand. “Ready—”His word ended when he was yanked into the stone. One
moment later, his entire body ignited into icy flames. Thestone dragged through his insides, tugging at his organs andscraping along his thoughts. The burn continued to spreadthrough him until he felt like he had been dragged milesthrough grav el.
And then he was throwing up in the middle of a black field.The agony passed over him, but he couldn’t do any thing be ‐sides emp ty his stom ach.
Gi chyòbi strode away to where a pack of dogs and four hu ‐man Tifukòmi stood. There was a wagon with a white-cloth
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shrouded body on top of it. Piles of garbage were heaped onthe side; a few shreds of rotted food still clung to Kiríshi’s paleform.
He knew his role in the ritual. He stripped down beforepulling out his white clothes. As he did, his thoughts quieted,and he felt a peace sur ro und him. This was his duty as a ko ji ‐nōmi, one he knew well.
He thought he would hesitate when he approached Kiríshi,but he didn’t. Instead, he scooped her body from the wagonand carried it to the bonfire. Even with the cloth, he could seewhere an arrow had impaled her left eye. More woundsmarked her chest, stomach, and pelvis. Most went clearthrough, in clud ing the one that pierced her skull. Blood sta ‐ined her wounds and coated her body. It cracked from where ithad dried, lined the wrin kles on her face and out lined the gri ‐mace she wore when she died.
He felt a pang of sadness as he remembered her smilingand laughing. The hours spent arguing over dinner, or the wayshe helped him when he was dead to his clan. He grew up withher, and he didn’t want a sin gle mem o ry for got ten.
Already knowing what he was going to write in his book, hescooped up her body and held her tight. Tears dripped downhis face as he pressed his cheek a gainst her.
“I see you, Great Shi mu sogo Ki ríshi.”
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Chapter 26
A Long Night
Even the great est war rior can be de fe ated by hu nger, thirst, and ex haus tion.—Ko sobyo Ta kòji
hen Rutejìmo started the rituals of the kojinōmi, he stillhad a me asure of en er gy rac ing through his ve ins. The de ter ‐mination to serve Kiríshi and the declaration of war had kepthim going strong for the first few hours. But as the night grewlong, his strength fled, and he was left sha king with ex haus ‐tion.
He sat on the ground in front of the dying flames, histhoughts dipping into the abyss of unconsciousness, before heforced himself back to wakefulness with nothing more thanhis will and the de sire to serve Ki ríshi un til the end.
In the long night, his thoughts drifted from one moment toanother moment that occurred over the last few days. He hadnot had a chance to rest since he started off on the previousmorning. Since then, he had been ambushed repeatedly on theroute to the city, attacked at the gates, spoke for Mifúno, waspulled through solid rock, and then performed the ritual forKiríshi. Each one would have left him exhausted, but all theseevents on top of two days with out sleep tore at him.
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One incident flashed through his mind, a half-rememberedsecond that would have been forgotten if not for the longnight. Just as he was trying to see if he could walk after beingin jured by one of his am bush er’s spears, cer tain he had suf ‐fered a fatal wound, or at the very least a crippling one, he hadmomentarily seen sparkling yellow-green before his eyes werepushed away.
There was no such thing as magical healing in the desert.No clan had the ability to do anything other than mask pain,set bones, or stop bleed ing. There was no true mag ic for heal ‐ing.
He tried resting his hand on his thigh, right where the spearhad cut into his flesh, but his hand struck against his knee. Hefrowned and tried a gain, lift ing his hand po int ed ly and slap ‐ping it down. His body remembered exactly how to strike hisleg, but his hand came down against the bony ridge of his hipthis time. Twice more, he tried to touch his injury before thefirst whis pers of the desert arose in the back of his head.
Hearing Mifúno at night seemed strange. The powers ofShi mu sògo came from the sun and ceased when it set. But Mi ‐fúno was al ways pre sent, day or night. Her whis pers rec og niz ‐able through the chorus of a thousand voices he had sent toher. He heard Gemènyo’s, the little girl who died near KosobyoCity, and even Ki ríshi’s. They spoke to him in madde ning ly qu ‐iet whis pers, the in di vid ual words only a hiss of sand but so ‐mehow the desert’s i n tent slow ly drift ing through his mind.
Rutejìmo listened to them, wishing he could understandthe desert’s desire but letting his mind drift right on the edgeof wakefulness and unconsciousness, in that moment whenthe whis pers were at their cle arest.
He tried to slide his hand up from his knee to his hip, totouch his wound, but the whispers rose sharply in a chidingtone. He stopped, hand trem bling.
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The voic es of Mi fúno pushed him back, like a pa rent cor rect ‐ing a child.
He obeyed, closing his eyes and sliding his grip back to hisknee. If the desert wa nted to keep se crets, he would lis ten.
She spoke to him a gain, in com fort ing voic es and half-re ‐membered memories. Images flashed through his mind, of athousand times he had been stabbed, cut, thrown across therocks, and even the time he fell off a cliff. Each time, he re ‐called grievous injuries, but each memory ended with thesame pressure to look away and forget. Each time he obeyedand then for got the sever i ty of his wo unds.
It was Mifúno’s gift, the cruel touch of the desert spiritwhich killed with one hand and re fused to let him see her com ‐fort from the oth er.
If any doubt had remained of being Mifúno’s champion, itwas extinguished. She’d had her eye on him for many years,probably more than he knew. But, like the other warriors of thedesert, there was only one fate for him.
Rutejìmo sighed. He was going to die at the end of this run,he knew it. The only thing he could do was run as fast as hecould until Mifúno called him. It was going to hurt, he couldn’timagine it any other way, and it would be terrifying, but hewould obey her will.
The acceptance of his fate pushed away the exhaustion. Hefinished his prayer and picked up the vase with Kiríshi’s ashes.With a reverent bow, he closed it and felt the familiar scrape ofrough pottery rubbing against itself. Using long strips of whitecloth, he sealed it shut and then used wax to prevent waterand i nsects from get ting in side.
The world swayed around him. He clutched the vase tightlyas he stood and blinked his bleary eyes. He lifted one foot,wincing at the sharp pain from a cut that had reopened, andthen turned a ro und.
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It was almost morning. He could feel Tachìra rising in hisheart. All he wanted to do was crawl into a bed and sleep untiloblivion took him. Instead, he forced his feet to move forwardaway from the heated circle of ash that used to be a stack ofseasoned wood, sacred incenses, and the body of Mapábyo’smoth er.
He made it less than a few feet be fore his leg gave out un ‐derneath him. With a groan, he sank down to his knees. Thevase start ed to top ple, and he clutched at it, hold ing it tight un ‐til his body stopped mov ing.
Ahead of him, he could see the silhouette of Gichyòbi andfour members of the Tifukòmi clan with their backs to him.Even the dogs were posi ti oned in a wide cir cle to avoid watch ‐ing a rit u al the liv ing could not ob serve.
Rutejìmo heard sadness echoed in the whispers in hismind. His friends chose not to see what he did because deathwas a forbidden part of the living world. Ever since Atefómupointed it out, he realized he wanted to share it with the othersin stead of be a ring the weight of the dead in si lence.
Crawling over to his pack, he stripped off his white clothesand folded them. He focused on pulling a fresh set of clothesout of his bag. They were all Shimusògo colors. Kidóri couldhave tried to hide him in Wamifūko fabric, but Rutejìmo wouldhave refused to wear them. Even in times of crisis, one neverlied about their clan. It was an unspoken law of the desert, todo otherwise would be to turn his back on his own clan’s spirit.He never thought he would consider doing anything else, butthat was be fore the Ko sòbyo hu nted the Shi mu sògo.
His ash-streaked hands shook as he dressed. Even pullingthe tunic over his head was almost too much for him. Freshblood pat terned a gainst the fab ric as he set tled it into place.
It felt wrong not to strip and start walking. For five years,Rutejìmo had performed the purification ritual even though ital most killed him every time. He dre aded it, but he still fol ‐
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lowed the rit u al as it was writ ten in Book of Ash. He could stillfeel the burns on his shoulder from the purification ritual heper formed less than a week ago. It was a mi nor in jury com ‐pared to the scrapes, bruises, arrow slashes, and cuts that hadoc curred since.
He stood up, panting with the effort. The rocks under hisfeet scraped together, and his joints felt the same. Swaying, here ga ined his bal ance and lo oked a ro und a gain.
The others remained with their backs to him. They had theirweapons drawn but Rutejìmo spotted no sign of violence orblood shed. He sighed in re lief. The al lies of Ko sòbyo didn’t at ‐tack at night.
A moment later, he felt guilty for even thinking that the clanwould violate one of Mifúno’s laws. He did not exist when hewore white. He thought about keeping the clothes on for therun home, but he already knew that he couldn’t do it. Unlikethe young kojinōmi, Rutejìmo clung to the old ways. He wouldonly run if he was running as one of the Shimusògo; hecouldn’t dis hon or the desert by pre tend ing.
Wind rose around him. It peppered his body with dust andsand from along the ridge of the valley. He looked down, to seeif there were any patterns. Seeing none, he turned to the fireand bowed.
The ash and his clothes were gone, but he already knewthey would be.
He turned back around and staggered to the circle of hisprotectors. His leg carried his weight, and he wondered if thedesert continued to heal him. As he passed into the light, herested a hand on Gichyòbi’s shoulder while setting the vaseinto the armored man’s palm with his other. “Thank you,” hewhis pered.
Gi chyòbi stirred and lo oked down at the vase, his face hid ‐den in the horse helm. For a moment, he didn’t move. When
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he stirred, it was to take the vase from Rutejìmo and set itdown. Slow ly, he raised his gaze up to Ru te jìmo.
On the other side, one of Kamanìo’s gray dogs started topant as it sat down.
“You are very qu iet,” said Gi chyòbi in a low voice. “I’ve nev ‐er… heard you do this be fore.”
Ru te jìmo winced at the voice and the fact Gi chyòbi was talk ‐ing about the ritual. But then he remembered the old woman’swords. Maybe the kojinōmi needed to be talked about. Hesmiled. “Si lence is a prayer.”
“Yet you moved con stant ly. Not even war riors fight the en ‐tire night and then charge into bat tle a gain.”
“I wasn’t exactly fighting. It’s just….” Rutejìmo held up hishand, un able to ex plain it.
Gichyòbi twisted his helm off. When he looked at Rutejìmo,there was a strange expression in the warrior’s eyes, as if heencountered something new and terrifying. He was haunted.“You ran all day and then… that all night.”
“I… I can talk a bout it if… if you want.”Gichyòbi looked startled before he turned away. His armor
cre aked.Realizing he had gone too far, Rutejìmo looked down but
caught one of the dogs looking at him. He smiled weakly to thehound. “Right now, the only thing I want to do is crawl into abed and sleep.”
“You look ex haust ed.” Gi chyòbi said with out turn ing back.“I feel like there is grav el in my joints and in my head.”“You are still ru n ning, though?”Ru te jìmo didn’t want to run. The eu pho ria of chas ing Shi ‐
musògo would push away some of the exhaustion, but hisbody ached and burned. He wanted to scratch his nose, but itwould only bloody his fi ngers.
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He fo cused on the east ern sky, where the light was just be gi ‐nning to brighten. One day. He could rest for one day and thenrun. But, he might be co ming home to a slaugh tered clan.
The idea of finding his children’s bodies made his decision.He loved them with all his life. Weeks ago, he left knowing theywere safe. And now, he may be the last chance of warningthem be fore Ko sòbyo at tacked.
Gi chyòbi cle ared his throat. “Four clans, in clud ing Mo da ‐shìa and Ko ki kóru, left for the south west last night. In the cov ‐er of dark ness. One of the clans was of the night.”
The words shook Rutejìmo. Fear prickled his skin, leavingbe hind a sen sa tion of crawl ing i nsects un der neath his ban ‐dages.
“They left right after sunset as we were starting the ritual.There was a Kosòbyo in the group, according to… the personwho told us.”
Rutejìmo sniffed, his hope of crawling into a bed dashed.They were a head of him, he had to run now. “Who told you?”
“A banyosi ōu of the night, an oth er ru nner with a dépa spir ‐it.”
Five years ago, os tra cized from his clan, Ru te jìmo had be ‐come one of the banyosiōu. He was treated as one of the dead,someone who could not talk or attract attention without thefear of be ing killed. His time e nded aft er a year, and he re jo ‐ined the liv ing. For most, beco ming a banyosi ōu was a pun ish ‐ment for the rest of their short, bru tal life.
Rutejìmo knew the courier. They both worked for the sameper son back when Ru te jìmo had been kicked out of the Shi mu ‐sògo for a year. They were as close as day and night could be,the common bond of chasing a dépa giving them solace. But,Rutejìmo was allowed to return to the living and the other manwas not.
Rutejìmo bowed his head. “Can you… give him something?Any thing? In thanks?”
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Gi chyòbi gru nted. “I will arrange it.”“Thank you. I have to run. Now.”Kamanìo looked up, his eyes were bloodshot from staying
up all night. “Are you sure? You are ex haust ed and in jured.”Rutejìmo looked around and saw his packs near some
rocks. Padding over to it, rocks crunching underneath his barefeet, he scooped up the bags and slung them into place. Hisbody screamed in agony with every move ment, but he was de ‐termined not to let it slow him down. As he buckled the packinto place, he said, “My clan is out there, and my children needme. Would you stop at this po int?”
“No, but I am a warrior.” Gichyòbi straightened and squaredhis shoul ders.
“As am I,” came Ka ma nìo’s re spo nse from where he sat.Rutejìmo smiled as Tachìra approached the horizon. He
gestured toward his home, across the familiar expanses ofdunes and rocks. “I’m not a warrior. I’m not the fastest or thestro ngest. You have known it since the day we met.”
Gi chyòbi and Ka ma nìo both nod ded.He dug into his bag and pulled out the Book of Ash. Both
men inhaled sharply as Rutejìmo set it on the ground at hisfeet. He hesitated for a moment, caressing the rough pagesthat had kept him company for five years. He knew that hewouldn’t need it any more. Mi fúno would find a new own er.
He stood up. “But, I’m not going to stop. It doesn’t matterhow tired I am or how much they hurt me. If I must run, thereis only one thing I can do—run. And if that means I die at thefoot of the val ley, then I will die a mong my clan.”
And then the sun’s power filled him, and the dépa racedpast him.
Rutejìmo bowed once. “Shimusògo run. It’s the only thingwe can do.”
And then he spri nted aft er his clan’s spir it.
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Chapter 27
A Longer Day
Clans declare domain over the oases of the desert, protecting each one as ifthey were the most pre ci ous of chil dren.
—Nyo chi komu A kómi, OurHomes
u te jìmo ran because he was afraid to stop. The only thingholding back his exhaustion was Shimusògo’s power flowingthrough his ve ins as he spri nted across the rocks. It didn’t mat ‐ter if his legs ached or his lungs burned. If he slowed to a walk,there was a chance he would pass out, and he couldn’t riskeven a minute of jogging, let alone walking, as there was achance he would not be able to run a gain.
His feet had become a drum against the ground, a steadypo und ing that ate away the miles. No mat ter how fast he spri ‐nted, he could feel the sec onds slip ping away. He wasn’t fast e ‐nough. He wasn’t strong enough. An endless litany of failuresflashed through his mind and erod ed the eu pho ria of the run.
Rutejìmo’s destination was the Wind’s Teeth where Pidòhuhad fallen so many years ago. He considered trying to find afaster route, but he could not lose time to backtracking or riskam bush in u n fa mil iar ter rain. He stuck to the path he knew.
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He hoped Desòchu’s plans included someone meeting himthere. He desperately needed someone to run with and toshare the night with. It was almost impossible to sleep at nightwith the fear looming over him. He couldn’t rest as much aspass the time un til the sun rose and he could run a gain.
With luck, Chi mípu would be jo i ning him for the last seg ‐ment. As much as he would love to have his wife or Byochínaalong, hav ing the war rior at his side would ease his fears. Chi ‐mípu could defeat anyone, he was sure of it, and she wouldn’tstop un til he was safe.
Guilt slashed through him. He should have wa nted Ma ‐pábyo to be waiting for him. She was his wife, after all, and itwould be better to race home to their children together. As heran, he let his mind drift to re unit ing with his boy and girl.
Kitòpi would be the excited one. He would pretend he was awarrior when he heard the story, and Desòchu’s tale wouldonly encourage him to fight harder and run faster. Alreadysome of that spark lived inside him. If anyone was going to bea war rior, it would be Ki tòpi.
In a stark contrast, there was Piróma. The rest of the clandidn’t know what to do with her. She was quiet and curious,but with a strange way of speaking as if she was older than herbody. Rutejìmo smiled and let the wind blow away his tears.She was destined to follow her own path, to forge a route ofher own. She would probably end up one of the Tateshyúso,like Pidòhu. The shadow raptor clan made their home in theval ley with the Shi mu sògo, but their pow ers were far diffe rent.
An u n wa nted pic ture flashed across his mind, Pi róma we a ‐ring all white as she stood be fore a bo nfire. A ko ji nōmi.
Rutejìmo stumbled and lost precious speed. He threw allhis con cen tra tion on pu shing past the flash of agony and re ga i ‐ning the steady beat of running. Tears burned in his eyes, buthe bore the pain un til he could run a gain.
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He peered around the sands before him. It was easy to getlost on the end less sands, but there were land marks and mark ‐ers for those who knew where to look for them. To his left, hesaw the dark blotches of a set of Wind’s Teeth sticking out ofthe ground. The chain-high lengths were scattered throughoutthe desert, each one in a different arrangement, which mademaps and nav i gat ing eas i er. The one he spot ted was Five Fi ‐ngers East, a pop u lar lo ca tion for traders de spite the lack of wa ‐ter. He avoided heading toward that since it would be the mostlog i cal place for a larg er group to stop. Or for an am bush.
His destination was a plume of colored smoke rising overthe dunes. The thin smoke disappeared quickly in the winds,and he had to look to ward it to find it. It marked a small er oa ‐sis that the Shi mu sògo rarely used. When ru n ning to Wa mi ‐fuko City, they used a much larger one to the south that hadmul ti ple clans pro tect ing it.
He was avoid ing the pop u lat ed o ases and stops. If the Ko ‐sòbyo could get word out, they would be waiting to ambushhim on the known routes. That left him with the out of the wayshelters. Which worked since he couldn’t afford to stop formore than a few min utes while it was still light.
Rutejìmo bore down and continued to run. The dépa sailedbefore him, running always out of reach. He wanted to grabthe feathers and let the spirit pull him along, but he couldn’trun fast e nough.
Concentrating on catching the dépa helped time pass. It feltlike merely seconds later when he saw the oasis. Groaning, hestart ed to slow as he ap proached.
Aches and burns prickled along his senses, increasing asthe euphoria of speed ebbed. His broken nose throbbed as thewind and sand buffeted it, the whirls of pressure adding to hisdis com fort.
He almost stumbled but managed to keep running. Everymo ment of slo wing down brought more pain across his sens ‐
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es: his cracked ribs burned, the arrow slashes throbbed, andhis mus cles ached.
Rutejìmo gasped at the onslaught of agony. A morning ofrunning let him forget, but stopping would bring the full bruntof his injuries back. He could also add the ache in his thighs,the burn in his lungs, and his crip pling ex haus tion.
“No,” he groaned and accelerated. If he stopped running, hemay not be able to move again. Even a minute’s respite wastoo much.
He raced past the oasis and accelerated back to his limits.With a sha king hand, he reached back and pulled out his wa ‐ter-skin. He would drink along the way.
As he finished drinking and secured the skin, he spottedsome thing diffe rent. It lo oked like the dépa was a few feet clos ‐er than before. He frowned, trying to remember how far awaythe spirit ran. But, after fifteen years of racing across thedesert, he no lo nger could re mem ber the ex act dis tance.
Pu shing the thoughts aside, he bore down and kept ru n ‐ning.
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Chapter 28
Smoke and Honor
The desert pro mis es so me one in white will ap proach when ne eded.—Desert proverb
� er a night of bare ly sle e ping in the dark, Ru te jìmo had fo ‐und a second wind. Or was it his third, or maybe fourth? Theentire day passed with him able to run without stumbling orfaltering, though he knew he would be paying for his sprintwhen he stopped again. At a mid-day oasis, he risked stoppingfor fresh water and ended up leaving a bloody smear near thewa ter’s edge when he slipped. When the clan pro tect ing the oa ‐sis offered to give him shelter, he had respectfully turned themdown and start ed ru n ning a gain.
Chasing Shimusògo also pushed away the fear and agony.He sank deeper into the run than he ever had before and losthimself in the euphoria of the wind rushing against his face,the peppering of sand and rock, and the steady drumming ofhis feet on sol id gro und.
His own wor ry fo cused on the end of the day, when his pow ‐ers faded with sunlight. He had been staring at the sun for thelast few hours, wi shing that Ta chìra would halt in his dai ly de ‐scent.
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Rutejìmo’s desire had no sway over the sun spirit, and itcontinued to sink toward the horizon. Even though it wasbright outside, despair darkened his thoughts and the worldbe hind him.
He scanned the horizon as he looked for a place to stop forthe night. Avoiding landmarks made it easier, he could stopany where, but he wa nted to find a low out crop ping to hide a ‐gainst or a rocky valley where he could use the alchemicalflame without lighting up the darkness. A warm meal and aplace to shield his back were his only needs just now.
Rutejìmo was afraid of the dark, and nothing in his life hadeased that pain. Terrible monsters crawled the desert whenthe sun was down. There were also the night clans. Eventhough he had served them as frequently as the day, his clanwas of the sun and very few saw be yond the bright red and o ‐range of the Shi mu sògo be fore draw ing their we apons.
Coming up along one ridge, he spotted a low-rising rock inthe distance, about six miles away in the middle of a largewash of sand sna king be tween two rocky plains.
Rutejìmo whispered a prayer of thanks to Shimusògo andMi fúno be fore sprint ing for ward.
Less than fifteen minutes later, he came to a sliding stopnear the rocks. The wind of his pass ing blast ed past him, con ‐ti nu ing up the dune be fore ra i ning sand down in a wide pat ‐tern. The hiss of his stop was al most com fort ing.
He straight ened and stretched. The aches had al ready re ‐turned. His arms and legs burned from ru n ning, and his inju ‐ries prickled along his skin. Gingerly, he touched his nose andwinced at the flash of pain.
Shaking his head, he inspected the rock and was happy tofind it would suffice for the night. He unslung his bag andknelt to open it.
Movement caught the corner of his eye. Tensing, he grippedthe hilt of his ta zágu and turned to look.
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Twin columns of smoke rose in the distance, maybe twentymiles away. His heart sank as he saw the yellow and whiteswirling around each other. He closed his eyes before openingthem a gain, ho ping his ser vices we ren’t ne eded.
The smoke remained in the sky, lazily rising in two hazylines that pointed down to where he saw a swirl of dust and ahint of move ment.
Rutejìmo choked back a sob. He couldn’t take another nightof rituals. Staying up all night only wore down his reserves,and he didn’t think he had much more. He had to get homeand warn the oth ers, to save his fam i ly from Ko sòbyo’s at tack.
Groaning, he stood up. He was also a kojinōmi and one ofthe few in the area. There would be no one else to tend to thedead. This close to home, he probably knew the clan in need. Itwas his duty, de spite his fear and ex haus tion.
He struggled with his dread of another sleepless night as heswitched into his whites. For a moment, he considered leavinghis supplies by the rock, but it would have been foolish to riskit being stolen, destroyed by animals, or simply lost in thesand. He shook his head and packed his clothes and his ta ‐zágu into his travel bag and slung it and Kidóri’s nearly emptyone over his shoul der.
With a deep breath, he set off to ward the smoke.Less than an hour lat er, he came up the fi nal ridge and lo ‐
oked out across a rocky plain. A crowd of war riors, all in yel ‐lows, whites, and bright colors, ringed the plain. He spottedbared weapons flashing in the rapidly fading light and theswirl of move ment a mong ru nners and war riors.
They had surrounded a thick knot of black-clad folk, a clanof the night.
He froze as he stared at the scene. Even though he enco u n ‐tered an almost identical one near Kosobyo City, he had neverseen it close to home. The clans in the western desert avoidedeach other or killed each other, not circled around like hounds
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waiting for someone to die. And when a fight did break out,the winner normally let the losing side escape and lick theirwounds. He didn’t get the impression from the crowd ahead ofhim that they were will ing to let the fight end with out a slaugh ‐ter.
Ru te jìmo frowned, dis li king how the east ern ways were al ‐ready se e ping close to his more tra di ti onal home.
Clutching his straps tighter, he jogged down to the rockyplain and then ac cele rat ed into a sprint.
Only a few seconds later did Tachìra dip below the horizon,cutting off his power and leaving him stumbling forward. Hegru nted and awk ward ly slowed into a fast walk.
He approached the crowd and lowered his eyes. The smellof sweat and oil wafted past him as he threaded through thecrowd, mov ing for ward as the liv ing part ed a ro und him.
It felt right to move with the living, where everyone knewtheir place. He took a deep breath and shift ed for ward, work ‐ing his way past the crowds and into the cle ared space be ‐tween the two groups.
Just as he stepped away, he saw a flash of embroideredcloth from one of the circling warriors. Only a fragment andnot even a complete name, “—kikó—,” but the cloth was theright col or for the Ko ki kóru, one of the clans hunt ing him.
His heart began to beat faster, and his skin crawled. Hisfootsteps faltered as he lifted his gaze slightly, trying to getsome hint of the warriors surrounding him. He spotted redand green, Ko ki kóru’s col ors. He also saw blue and white fla ‐shing to his side. Tilting his head, he spotted a name engravedon one of the many bared we apons: Mo da shia Chi tōru.
Most clans named their weapons and possessions as part ofthe clan. Rutejìmo’s own weapon, his tazágu, had been namedShi mu sogo Mi gáryo aft er its o ri gi nal own er and his first shi ‐kāfu, Pa bi u n kue Mi káryo.
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It was a trap, and his sense of duty had dragged him into it.He knew if he stopped, they would cut him down before hesaid a word. To give him a few sec onds, he forced him self fur ‐ther into the knot of people and bridged the gap to the nightclan. In his mind, he pictured the location of his weapon andpre pared to draw it.
He continued to raise his eyes, focusing first on the blackboots of the night clan before him but moving up as he foughtyears of tra di tion to look into the face of his am bush er.
It was a young man, in his early thirties, with pale skin andi n tense green eyes. They met Ru te jìmo’s. The man was a war ‐rior, with a bow slung over his back and five throwing knivesat his right side. On his left, a long blade danced in the light,re flect ing the name of his clan: De mu chìbyo.
The warrior jerked and his eyes widened. “No,” he said in asoft, lilting voice. He looked up and past Rutejìmo’s shoulder.“You did not say you wished to trap Great Shi mu sogo Ru te ‐jìmo.”
Rutejìmo inhaled sharply. He didn’t know the man in frontof him, but he knew of the clan. They were scouts who madeno noise in dark ness when they chose si lence.
“Why,” said a woman with a husky voice, “would one ko ji ‐nōmi mean more than an oth er?”
Ru te jìmo shook as he turned a ro und. The spe aker was a Ko ‐sòbyo, a woman dressed in ar mored fab ric striped with the ser ‐pent clan’s colors. She had a feathered headdress on her headwhich lo oked out of place in the harsh desert. Ru te jìmo as ‐sumed that it was a we apon or a de fense, he wasn’t sure.
The sanctity of the kojinōmi broken, he looked around at hisopponents. There were easily seventy of them milling around.All their eyes were on him and they were smiling like a houndwho had cap tured his prey.
The man near Rutejìmo spoke again, “For the kojinōmi ofthe day who slaughter my kind, I’m willing to sacrifice their
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lives to the desert. I’d risk the ire of the sands for that. But notGreat Shimusogo Rutejìmo. He is one of the few who treatboth night and day as allies and friends.” The warrior steppedup to Ru te jìmo, who flinched.
He looked over at Rutejìmo and bowed. “Forgive me, GreatShimusogo Rutejìmo,” he whispered. “You were there whenmy father and my grandfather died of sickness, and I could donothing. I will not ruin their honor by sacrificing you for thepro mise of mon ey.”
The warrior turned back and drew his sword. “I cannot dothis, Ko sobyo Ta géra.”
Rutejìmo trembled and fumbled for his tazágu. The hilt wasicy in his palm as he pulled it out of the pack. With a shrug, helet the straps slide off and the bag hit the gro und.
Tagéra shook her head and tilted her head. Her eyes were adark green, al most black with the pupils too large for Ru te ‐jìmo’s taste. “You were will ing to risk the sands when we ne ‐goti ated two days ago.”
More of the De mu chìbyo came up a ro und Ru te jìmo.He flinched as they passed but then stared as they cir cled a ‐
round him. They were all armed as warriors. The runes ontheir weapons flickered with a pale blue glow as they bracedthem selves.
Rutejìmo glanced past them to where the smoke came. Twopots sat on a rock. Typically, there would be a body next to thepots along with small trinkets or sacred wood. Instead, therewas only a pile of shit on the rock. He closed his eyes for a longmo ment and then o pened them.
Hefting his weapon, he looked back at the crowds. Therewere only seven of the Demuchìbyo and ten times that of theday clans.
“Feeling foolish, boy?” It was Kosobyo Tagéra. Her insultingvoice added to the use of a la bel in stead of his prop er name.
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Rutejìmo turned back to her. Years of needing to be silentwhile wearing white clothes kept him silent. Even betrayedand am bushed, he fo und it hard to say any thing.
“Those rituals of yours are meaningless, but you are tooweathered to pull yourself out of the groove you’ve grown into.I knew you’d fall for this because you have never turned downa single request. Even with the Nyochikōmu, you abandonedyour own clan to serve.”
Ru te jìmo nod ded, still u nwill ing to break his si lence.“You may be the first of the Shimusògo to reach this far, but
you’ll also be the last.”He flinched at her low, rasping words. He would have
thought Chimípu would have passed him already. Mapábyoand Byochína were both faster runners than he would haveever been.
Tagéra smiled, her lips pulling back to reveal filed teeth. Shestraightened her head. “But, I wouldn’t want to think I didn’trespect that old desert spirit of yours.” A tic fluttered in herneck as she shook her head.
The Demuchìbyo warrior jumped in front of the woman.There was a hiss of something flying through the air, and thenthe war rior stag gered back.
Rutejìmo gasped as the younger man dropped to his knees,his chest and face hissing with acid. It burned away the skin,melting it to reveal stark bone. There was no time for him toscream before he fell to the ground, a gaping hole burningthrough his chest.
Gasping, Rutejìmo stared down at the fallen man and feltfear pulsing through his veins. The needle had struck and, inless than a sec ond, the u n named war rior was dead at his feet.
Rutejìmo looked up just as another tic ran along thewoman’s neck. With a cry, he brought his tazágu up to defendhim self.
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Four needles bounced off it, spinning into the air beforelanding to the ground. A heartbeat later, the rocks began tohiss and smoke.
She casually stepped forward, her cloth rippling around herwith her movement. Ripples of golden energy flashed in thefolds of her armor. She tilted her head again and then snappedit up.
Rutejìmo saw the flash of needles and brought his weaponto par ry it.
But, the needles never hit as one of the other night warriorsstepped into their path. He, like the first warrior, collapsedwith out a so und.
“How,” she said, “did you earn this sacrifice? You are just apoor ru nner who blind ly fol lows the sun. You don’t de serve re ‐spect from any one.”
Another warrior stepped into the path as she flung anotherneedle. He groaned as he collapsed to the ground, a throwingdag ger slip ping out of his hand to clat ter a gainst the rocks.
“They just throw them selves be fore you. Why?”Rutejìmo couldn’t answer, he didn’t know himself. He
clutched his ta zágu and shook his head, try ing to stop the oth ‐er De mu chìbyo.
An oth er nee dle and an oth er silent death.Rutejìmo backed away from her, tears running down his
cheeks. He tried to hold the next one back with his free hand,but the warrior said nothing as he forced his way in front ofRu te jìmo a full sec ond be fore she flung the nee dle.
“Our reports indicate you are slow—” She flicked her headand more nee dles shot across the short dis tance.
He started to close his eyes to avoid seeing another death,but didn’t. The flash of black sank down, a woman this time,who closed her eyes as her face and throat be gan to hiss.
“—weak, and pathetic. You should have been the first to diebut here you are, only a few days from home.” She smiled and
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her eyes flick ered to the side. “And only one war rior left to pro ‐tect you.”
Ru te jìmo whim pered as he lo oked over at the last man.It was a younger man, not even five years past his rite of
pas sage. His skin was pale, and he swe ated pro fuse ly. He lo ‐oked at Ru te jìmo as a tear ran down his cheek.
Rutejìmo could see the death in his eyes. He shook hishead, pray ing the yo ung war rior would run, not sac ri fice him ‐self.
“Let’s see how pow er ful this love is.”Rutejìmo shook his head again. “No,” he whispered to the
yo ung man.A needle flashed past Rutejìmo, close enough he felt the
wind of its pass ing.The yo ung man jerked, grip ping his we apon tight ly. He lo ‐
oked at the Ko sòbyo war rior and then back to Ru te jìmo.“No,” Ru te jìmo said lo uder. “Don’t do this.”An oth er nee dle and then a third.“Die, Shi mu sògo,” said Ta géra.Ru te jìmo closed his eyes as the yo ung war rior jumped for ‐
ward. There was nothing he could do as he heard the impact ofa dozen poisoned needles piercing flesh. And then the high-pitched scream as the yo ung man fell to the gro und.
Turning back quickly, Rutejìmo looked down into the empty,smo king eyes of the yo ung man who sac ri ficed him self.
Sorrow welled up inside Rutejìmo, bubbling up through histhroat and out of his mouth. He inhaled sharply. He wanted toyell at the woman who killed the warriors, but he couldn’tthink past the flux of energy that burst out with his wordlessscream. It rose to a high pitch, the screech of an injured birdde spe rate ly call ing for help.
It ripped out of him and blasted away in all directions. Heopened his eyes without realizing he had closed them to see arip ple of pow er ra di at ing from him.
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As quickly as the scream came, weakness crashed into him.Rutejìmo slumped forward, dropping to his knees. The sharpedge of a rock tore into his kneecap, rip ping open fresh wo ‐unds as he slumped for ward.
Snapping his hand out, Rutejìmo caught himself with theknuckles of his weapon hand. The hard hilt ground into hispalm. He looked up at the Kosòbyo woman, and realized hewas pant i ng.
“The Call is exhausting, isn’t it? But there aren’t any warriorsto protect you, are there? The nearest Shimusògo warrior is inyour val ley, a week away. No one can get to you in time.”
Rutejìmo inhaled and tried to cause the scream to happenagain, to see if a second could reach the Shimusògo, but he feltdrained and al most fell a gain.
Tagéra chuckled, her teeth flashing in the golden light thatclung to her body. “You can’t call twice, even if there was so me ‐one to save you. And if you are hoping for Chimípu, she is justentering Wamifuko City tonight after failing to save the lateByo chí na.”
Darkness draped over the ambush, but then golden flamesgrew around the warriors. It clung to weapons and the folds oftheir bodies, lighting up the rocks as bright as a bonfire. Heatrip pled over him adding to the stench of death and acid.
Ru te jìmo watched his shad ow danc ing a ro und him. He pa ‐nted and drew a breath, digging into his exhausted body to tryone more time. He needed help. He couldn’t survive withoutso me one else.
Images of his body burning away from Tagéra’s poisons, orthe warrior’s blades slicing through his skin, added to his fear.He felt it boil ing in side him, te a ring at his gut.
Blood oozed from where the wounds on his knuckles hadreopened. He felt every one of his injuries tearing at his skin,re mind ing him that he had bled for this run, but he also sur ‐vived.
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Rutejìmo didn’t give up. He had almost died in the desertmore than once, but he never stopped running. He died andkept going, plodding through life until he found his place. Hewalked naked across the sands when most kojinōmi had givenup the anci ent ways.
He ground his teeth together, determined to call again.There was a chance someone could hear the second one. Itwould hurt, he could already feel it clawing into his reserves.Blood dripped from his nose as he tensed, pre pa ring him self.
Taking a deep breath, he held it for a long count and thenyelled. It wasn’t the magical screech of a Shimusògo in danger,but a mor tal voice rip ping across his vo cal cords.
Tagéra and the other warriors laughed, but Rutejìmo keptyelling.
His lungs burned and his throat tore, but he kept throwingevery thing into a yell.
And then, like a flame igniting inside him, he felt the energyburst up through his throat and his voice became a high-pitched scream once a gain. It burst out from a ro und him, sha ‐king the rocks and kicking up dust. It blasted out from him,pushing back the surrounding warriors and tugging on theirclothes.
Ru te jìmo felt the world gro wing dark, but he kept scre e ‐ching. He clung to the gro und be neath him, wrap ping his fi ‐ngers around the sharp rocks and squeezing down until freshblood dripped through the gaps of his hands and pooled onthe rocks.
And then more power was there, different but stronger. Itwas the voices of the desert whispering in his head, throughhis voice. He felt his vo cal cords rip ping, but the noise kept co ‐ming out, ris ing into the mul ti tude of voic es. He heard the chil ‐dren and moth ers who died next to him, the cries of men sob ‐bing without dignity. He heard a thousand dead echoing in hisscream.
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But, then the energy ran out. He slumped forward, crashingface-first into the rocks. He felt his broken nose cracking again,and flash es of pain danced across his vi sion.
He wanted to lie there and wait for the acid arrows. Everysec ond, he wait ed for the at tack but it nev er came.
Shaking, he planted his knuckles in the rock and pushedhim self up.
No one was laughing. They stared back at him with palefaces and wide eyes.
Even Tagéra had paled and taken a step back. Her eyes werewide as she stared at Rutejìmo. The feathers of her headdressrip pled with her move ments.
Encouraged, Rutejìmo dragged his feet underneath him andpushed himself up. It took all his strength to stand, but hemanaged to do it in the stunned silence. He looked around athis oppo nents, as shocked as they were.
A sin gle vul ture’s cry echoed out in the si lence.“W-What,” gasped Ta géra, “was that?”A moment later, a vulture landed on the ground between
Ru te jìmo and the Ko sòbyo war rior.Rutejìmo trembled as he stared at its sudden appearance. A
bre eze rip pled a ro und Ru te jìmo from the bird’s wings as it pe ‐ered a ro und at the war riors.
Icy wind blew past him, leaving a smear of hoarfrost on theground. He blinked at the sudden cold, and a woman stood tohis left. She wore black and blue clothes, and steam rose fromher body. A long, black whip hung from her hand and Ru te ‐jìmo could see glass shards gliste ning along its length.
The vulture cried out again. Rutejìmo turned to it just as itfinished blossoming into a full-grown man armed with a longsword.
Neither of the strangers said anything as they stood there,lo o king out at the war riors who sur ro u nded Ru te jìmo.
“Who are you?” de ma nded Ta géra.
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The vul ture war rior an swered by charg ing to ward the Ko ‐sòbyo woman.
The ice warrior, a clan that Rutejìmo had only heard of insto ries, dis solved into ice and speared in the op po site di rec ‐tion. There were screams as the front ranks fell clutching theirice-caked faces.
Confused, Rutejìmo spun around just as a pack of pitch-black jackals drove into the back of the gathered warriors. Onthe ridge behind them, lit by the moon rising in the sky, a pairof old er men di rect ed them with whis tles.
Rutejìmo felt a prickle of danger and spun around, bringingup his tazágu as three poisoned needles speared toward him.He deflected two of them and managed to avoid the third as itflashed past into the back of one of the Modashìa. The femalewar rior screamed as her flesh melt ed away.
“How did you do that?” yelled Ta géra as she par ried her vul ‐ture attacker with the back of her hand. Her fingers drippedwith acid and poison. She flicked it toward her opponent, buthe jumped the blow and sailed over her to land in the meleethat had sprung up a mong the sur ro und ing war riors.
Ru te jìmo saw two oth er clans, both of the night, fight ing a ‐mong the attacking day clans. There was only one of each, butthey were giving no quarter as they attacked their brightly-clothed oppo nents.
“What did you do? How did you do that!? That wasn’t a Call,only the Shi mu sògo would an swer. What was that!?” Ta géra lu ‐nged for Ru te jìmo and lashed out for his throat.
He par ried her blow, winc ing as the acid of her at tack dis col ‐ored his weapon. Twisting his wrist, he brought the tazágudown to block her foot which also glowed with magic. “I-I—”His voice cracked and he realized he couldn’t speak louderthan a whis per. “—don’t know.”
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“Damn the sands, you did some thing. These a ren’t the Shi ‐musògo! These are night warriors. They will not save you, not—!”
An ice whip wrapped around Tagéra’s throat, the shards ofglass cutting into her skin. With a ripple of power, the runesalong the whip flared a bril li ant blue, and then Ta géra was sail ‐ing over the crowds. Rutejìmo heard her hit the ground with amut ed thump.
The snow warrior stopped in front of him, her icy green eyesregarding him. “You called and I answer as if you were myclan. Day or night, I must protect you.” And then she was gone,disappearing into the melee with a flash of her whip and aburst of cold.
Gi chyòbi’s words came back to Ru te jìmo, a bout how the war ‐rior felt the need to protect Rutejìmo as if he was one of hisown clan. Rutejìmo had never questioned why, but hearing thedead calling out in his voice, he realized it was because of thedesert. There was no Mifúno clan, because everyone wastouched by death. All clans were hers, and all warriors wouldprotect her champions. No, not all warriors. Gichyòbi had saidit was a strong drive to help, not an absolute. Looking into theeyes of the attacking warriors, he could see them fighting thecall with a nger and greed.
There was no time to wonder as a Kokikóru warrior chargedhim, yelling at the top of his lungs, wield ing a flam ing sword.
Rutejìmo parried with his weapon and threw his weightinto it to u nbal ance the man.
He failed, and the war rior slashed at him, the tip of his we ‐apon slic ing through Ru te jìmo’s skin. A splat ter of blood pa i ‐nted the gro und.
Rutejìmo staggered back and slammed into someone else.He flinched back, parrying two warriors’ attacks as they camefrom both sides. He twisted between the two blows, using hista zágu to par ry but not at tack ing on his own.
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Even with his own life at risk, he couldn’t suffer the thoughtof killing an oth er per son.
He heard a scream as the vulture warrior fell under flashingblades. A heart beat lat er, he heard a jack al cry out be fore end ‐ing sharply.
Rutejìmo fought for his life, parrying and balancing. Hehoped that more would come to help him, and he knew if hejust held on, he would sur vive.
The night warriors thinned out his opponents. He steppedover ice-rimed corpses and bodies torn apart by the jackals.Blood flowed across the rocks, but it was still lit up by the glowfrom dozens of war riors still stand ing.
His attackers, now three of them, were pressing him furtherback. He flinched from op por tunis tic at tacks by pass ing war ‐riors. Blood dripped down his face and side. He could feelhun dreds of cuts, all near miss es, burn ing along his skin.
Grunting, he hammered his weapon against them, parryingfrantically as he tried to find some shelter or place to protecthimself. Even one side would be better than standing in acrowd of e ne mies.
A needle flew past him. He spun to avoid it, bouncing offthe burning blade of an attacker. He cried out as he felt thesharp edge drawn across his back, sliding clear to his spine butthank ful ly de flect ing off the bone in stead of cut ting fur ther.
Agony tore through him as he staggered forward, spinningawkwardly as he tried to regain his senses. He saw a goldenlight in the distance, coming along the edge of the plains, andlet out a moan of de spair. Al lies of his oppo nents were ap pro a ‐ching and he could barely hold off the few in front of him.Only war riors could re tain their pow ers aft er the sun dis ap ‐peared.
A blast of ice raced through the fight, buffeting Rutejìmo.He tensed a gainst it, duck ing his head as if it was the wind co ‐
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ming from his passing. He felt the ice plucking at his lungsand freez ing the blood drip ping from his nose.
As soon as it passed, he looked up to see the ice warriorfalling. The surrounding men who killed her were nothing butshat tered chunks of blood-flecked ice.
Rutejìmo panted in the silence. He looked around the fight.There were no more warriors of the night. The six strangershad taken out half of the other clans. Blood steamed off theground and there were cries and the moans of the dying. Hesaw cut throats, broken bones, and disembowelings thatturned the gro und into a hell ish world of ichor and gore.
“All that and you are still going to die,” gasped Tagéra as shestaggered up. Blood covered the side of her face and drippedfrom her ar mored cloth. Go uges scored her neck and shoul ‐ders, and there was a shard of glass stuck against her collar.Her headdress had been ripped off leaving only a few feathersstill clinging to her black hair. She clenched her hand and afresh burst of en er gy gath ered a ro und her knuck les.
He gripped his weapon tighter and tried not to think aboutthe point shaking violently. He couldn’t calm it down, norcould he stop the pulsing in his head as he fought dizzinessand his inju ries.
With a gulp, he held his we apon be fore him.“You won’t give up, will you?”“No.” His voice wa vered slight ly.A translucent dépa blasted past Tagéra and disappeared
into the dark ness.Rutejìmo gasped, the weapon almost slipping from his
hand. Only one per son could run that fast.Tagéra opened her mouth to say something but before she
could produce a sound, she exploded in a shower of blood thatwas sucked out of sight in a straight line fol lo wing the dépa.
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Pressure built around him, and Rutejìmo dropped to hisknees. He abandoned his weapon and clapped his hands overhis head.
A crack of thunder exploded around him, picking up rocksand dust and sucking it past. He planted his feet as the worldscreamed around him, crushing his ribs as the rumble rose toa de a fe ning roar.
Si lence.Ru te jìmo stag gered as he stood up.Around him, the other warriors were doing the same. Many
of them bled from their eyes, ears, and noses. The goldenflames around their bodies rose in response, glittering off theirinju ries.
In the darkness, a burning dépa blossomed into existence,towering over everyone, translucent and brilliant. It sankdown, shri n king into a lone woman walk ing back. It was Chi ‐mípu.
The light of her passing lit up the blood smear of Tagéra’sbody. There wasn’t a piece larg er than Ru te jìmo’s hand re ma i ‐ning.
Chimípu stormed closer, her eyes burning as bright as thesun. Sweat dripped off her body, pouring down her face andchest to soak into her shirt. Ru te jìmo could see her limbs sha ‐king, and he felt a new fear build ing.
In fifteen years, he had never seen Chimípu winded. Shehad never been exhausted from a run, ever since she gainedpower. And now, she was soaked as though she had run fromone end of the desert to the other. If Tagéra’s words were true,she was just entering Wamifuko City that night. His call musthave reached her, but that meant she had just covered twodays of Ru te jìmo’s ru n ning in less than an hour.
The ground hissed under her feet as she stopped two chainsaway from Rutejìmo. “That’s my little brother you attacked,”she pa nted as she lift ed her hand. She had a short knife, no lo ‐
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nger than a foot, and her clothes. She had so mehow a ba n ‐doned her pack and all her sup plies. She lo oked at the gath ‐ered warriors and took a ragged breath. “I’m going to kill all ofyou.”
Rutejìmo sobbed with relief. He didn’t know how she gotthere, but he was thank ful.
One of the warriors, a Kokikóru, managed to step forward.“There is only one—”
His words e nded when his head thumped a gainst the gro ‐und. Chimípu stood a rod past him, her knife still clean but ahowling trail of wind dying around her. Blood hissed as itsplattered against the ground, mixing with the shattered rocksand sand.
A mur mur rip pled through the re ma i ning war riors.“Jìmo.”Ru te jìmo jumped at Chi mípu’s voice.She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and it came
away drip ping. “Are you se ri ous ly in jured?”“C-Cuts and burns. I-I’ll live. Thank you, Great—”“Good. Go to sleep.”An oth er war rior snort ed.Ru te jìmo stared at her in shock. “W-What?”Chimípu looked at him, and there was sadness in her eyes.
“You need to rest, and I don’t want you to see this.”The warrior who snorted spoke up. “Just like that? Go to
sleep in the middle of—” His torso thumped on the ground. “—a fight?” He lo oked up to where she had cut through him, seve ‐ring his spine right be low the ribs. He gaped as his or gans be ‐gan to spill out of his chest be fore his legs fell.
“Jìmo, go to sleep. I pro mise you will wake up in the morn ‐ing.”
Rutejìmo shuddered as he obeyed, sinking to his knees andthen curling up. It didn’t matter that he was in a pool of bloodor there was a corpse a foot away from his head. He closed his
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eyes tightly, clamped his hands over his ears, and prayed hewouldn’t hear what would come next.
There was a blast of air and a scream. A splatter of bloodsplashed across him and he shud dered at the touch.
Sob bing, he curled up in a tighter ball.More screams. He heard cru n ching of so me one ru n ning to ‐
ward him, but it ended with a crack of air and the thud of abody hit ting the gro und in too many pieces.
The stench of death sur ro u nded him. But, de spite the hor ‐ror happening around him, he felt exhaustion yanking himdown. Days of running and sleeping with one eye open clawedat his consciousness. Somehow, he felt more peace knowingChi mípu would save him from the war riors dy ing a ro und him.
One of his eyes fluttered open just as Chimípu grabbed awarrior by the head with both hands. She grunted as she spuna ro und. The man’s feet were kicked off the gro und as she be ‐came a vortex of power and the warrior’s body became thedisk of glo wing light.
With a wet sound, he saw the man’s body ripped from hisskull and fly off. There was a flash of a spine moments beforeChi mípu la unched the man’s skull in the op po site di rec tion.
Rutejìmo clamped his eyes shut and plastered his handsover his ears. Even through his fingers, he heard the thump ofthe body impacting another and the wet explosion of a skullfrac tu ring a gainst yet an oth er body.
Shud de ring, he prayed for sleep and, for once, Mi fúno gra ‐nted his re quest. Dark ness ya nked him down into un con sci ‐ous ness.
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Chapter 29
Shimusogo Chimípu
A pro mise giv en from the heart can over come death.—Fe nrik de Kasin da Golver, ThreeErrantKids
u te jìmo wasn’t sur prised when he woke up. He was sur ‐prised that as he regained consciousness, he was still sobbing.Tears soaked his cheeks and dripped to the ground, mixing inwith the rivers of blood that soaked the rocks. He blinked atthe eff ort to crawl to his knees and lo oked a ro und.
In the pale light of dawn, he saw noth ing but death. War ‐riors had been slaughtered, their limbs sticking up at obsceneangles, and thick rivers of gore ran along the waves formed bythe rocks. He saw bones pierc ing rocks and the smeared re ‐mains of the war riors who fought through the night.
The two pots that held the smoke that summoned him hadbeen shattered but a few wisps of yellow smoke still bubbledout from one bro ken bot tom.
He planted his hand down for balance but encounteredhard flesh instead. Gasping, he lifted up and turned to see thathe was sle e ping on Chi mípu’s lap.
She looked up at him, her eyes rimmed in darkness and herface smeared with blood. Golden flames, only the faintest
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wisp, ran along her body. She had long cuts scoring across herbreasts and hips. Her shirt, once a brilliant red, had beensmeared black and hung on her body in tatters. Her skin wasco ated in crim son, thick bub bles rolling down her chest.
“No,” gasped Chi mípu, “It’s okay.”“I… I didn’t mean for this.”“I know, little brother.” Her voice was a rasp. He saw that she
had been cut across the throat and collar. Blood poured fromthe cut, ru n ning in rivers.
She should have been dead. He had seen a thousand peopledie with less serious injuries but, somehow, she was stillbreath ing.
“Mípu? H-How?”She smiled as a tear formed in her eye. “I pro mised… my lit ‐
tle broth er would wake up.”“No!” Rutejìmo crawled forward, heedless of the rocks that
dug into his knees. He grabbed her shoulders. “No, you are thewarrior! You are supposed to save us. You were the one whowas go ing to make it!”
She slumped for ward, her chin stri king his shoul der.He froze, terrified she had just died. When he felt her mouth
moving, he shook his head as the tears rolled down his cheeks.“No, Mípu, no. You can’t die! No, not for me!”
“Prom…”“Mípu!?” Rutejìmo pushed her back to look into her fading
eyes.“P-Pro mise me.”“What? Any thing!”“Don’t stay for me.”“B-But,” he sobbed, “you are my friend. My best friend. My
big sis ter.”“I’m… also a war rior. Ta chìra will take… me.”
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She lift ed her hand. It was drip ping blood, and she was miss ‐ing a fi nger. She pressed it a gainst his chest and pushed weak ‐ly. “Shi mu sògo… run.”
Rutejìmo shook his head violently. “No, I can’t. I can’t leaveyou. I left Desòchu when I should have—”
A dépa flashed past him. She gasped. “Shi mu sògo—”She drew her hand back.“—run!” Her punch was sur pris ing ly strong but it was noth ‐
ing com pared to the blast of wind that slammed into him.Rutejìmo was thrown back and off the ground. He landed
only a few feet away, tumbling over his shoulders and onto hisface. Fresh blood splattered against the back of his head. Hegasped and pushed him self up. “Mípu!?”
Chimípu pressed a hand against the ground, groaning asshe start ed to stand up. “Shi mu sògo… run,” she gasped.
Rutejìmo staggered to his feet. “No… no, I’ll run. I promise.I’ll run, Mípu.”
She slumped back. Her shoulders shook as she panted forbreath. “You better, J-Jìmo. I know about Sòchu… and Nèku…and Ríshi. You will make it. If you… run.”
Sha king, Ru te jìmo lo oked a ro und for his pack, but only fo ‐und pieces of it. His ta zágu had been bent in half. Molten met ‐al had pooled where the hilt used to be. It looked like Chimípuhad used it to skew er so me one’s skull.
Ru te jìmo glanced back at her. She was watch ing him, her i ‐ntense eyes peering through her blood-soaked hair. He knewshe would force him to run if he didn’t leave soon.
His foot thumped against Chimípu’s messenger case. Hetrembled and picked it up. A few rods away, he spotted his ownbattered bone one. He quickly jammed her portion into hisown, not caring if he tore the pages. Seconds later, he sealedhis and set hers down.
Looking at her, fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “I… I’msor ry.”
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She coughed, and a fresh drib ble of blood ran from the cor ‐ner of her mouth. “I’m not. Not… for a single moment. I loveyou… lit tle… broth er…”
The light of the sun gathered around her and the flamesthat traced her body grew brighter until the flames were aswhite as his cloth. It wavered in the air as the heat beat againsthis face.
Rutejìmo gasped as he watched the ends of her reddish haircrinkle and darken before it caught on fire. Her clothes burnedaway almost instantly, the brief yellow and blue only a flash inthe whitest flame Ru te jìmo had ever seen.
“Shimusògo… run.” Her voice was hoarse and wavering, herbody burning from the inside as the sun claimed his warriorfor him self.
Ru te jìmo could only stare as the flames co n sumed her, burn ‐ing cleanly and rapidly. In a matter of seconds, there was onlya skele ton and even that burned away be fore he could blink a ‐gain. The rocks be neath her had melt ed in pud dles of white liq ‐uid that quick ly fad ed to red.
There were legends of Tachìra taking a warrior for somegreat deed, but it had not hap pened since be fore his grand ‐mother’s time. He shook as he felt the flames of the sun lickingat his skin. The great spirit had honored Chimípu as one of thegreatest warriors of the desert, but Rutejìmo only felt the griefof los ing his sis ter, his war rior, his fri end.
Rutejìmo backed away as he hoisted the messenger caseover his shoul der. He didn’t have a we apon or any oth er sup ‐plies. He didn’t know how he would survive the night, but hedidn’t have a choice.
Shi mu sògo raced past him, and he turned to fol low the spir ‐it. There were no more words he could say or thoughts hecould dwell on. He did the only thing he could do at that mo ‐ment.
He ran.
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Chapter 30
Keep Moving
No mor tal voice can ever pro duce the full ex tent of one’s sor row.—Gamas Ti kin Runor
u te jìmo’s wail ran along the pitch-black dunes, but he no lo ‐nger cared if anyone found him. Night or day, it didn’t matter ifthey were allies or enemies. He couldn’t stop the clawing thattore at his heart.
He had lost al most eve ry one in the last week: Byo chí na, Ni ‐fùni, his brother, Chimípu. Warriors of unknown clans hadcome to save him and died. He had seen the people he lovedand strangers alike—slaughtered because of him, the weakestof the Shi mu sògo.
Even though it was night, he didn’t stop walking. His feetshuffled in the sand, and he trudged up one dune and over theother. It was exhausting, but he didn’t care, and he couldn’tstop. He had no food, no wa ter, no we apon. He had left every ‐thing behind besides the clothes on his body and the case overhis shoul der.
His stomach rumbled and a high-pitched whine followedhim every where he went. He man aged to crush a few scor pi ‐
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ons and some insects for food, but that was the extent of whathe had e aten for days.
Rutejìmo inhaled and wailed again. His throat was raw, andit came out as a high-pitched keening. He wished he could callfor others, to summon warriors to defend him. But, when hetried, there was noth ing. No en er gy, no pow er, no need.
He was alone and ter ri fied.He couldn’t stop any more. He had to keep walk ing.
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Chapter 31
Wind's Teeth
The Winds Teeth are mysterious rock formations scattered throughout theMi funo Desert. The type of rock is un known, as is the pur pose
—if there is one. — To somi Ka do kíchyu, StoriesofSand
y the time Rutejìmo arrived at the Wind’s Teeth he could nolonger remember how long he had been running. The threejagged rocks had been there from the be gi n ning of his adult ‐hood. His eyes automatically rose to the one that Pidòhu hadfallen from, breaking his leg, and setting off the chain ofevents that led to him beco ming a man de spite all the odds.
He came to a halt, his feet digging a long furrow into thesand. When he stopped, the wind blowing behind him diedand grains rained downed on him. He stepped for ward and he ‐aded straight for where Pi dòhu had fall en many years ago.
There was a small poem carved into the rock. Pidòhu hadventured out of the valley to follow Rutejìmo as Rutejìmo gaveone last apol o gy. He knelt by it, rub bing his fi ngers on the fad ‐ed let ters that sand and wind strug gled to erase.
He smiled to himself and leaned his head against a nick inthe rock that he had made the day Mapábyo became his wife.While against Shimusògo tradition to hold the ceremony away
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from the shrine, Desòchu had insisted Rutejìmo choose hisown way.
Remembering his brother brought tears to his eyes, but thesor row quick ly fad ed. His broth er had died sav ing the clan. Chi ‐mípu had done the same. He was poised to fol low in their foot ‐steps un less he could sur vive the last seg ment home.
He thumped his head against the mark on the rock. Fiveyears ago, he had tripped during the ceremony and cut hishand on the Tooth. Later, Chimípu had returned and cut a linealong the rock to memorialize the occasion. Now, it was just aqu iet re mi nder of his life. A good life. A hap py one un til re cent ‐ly. He ran his hand down the rock. He hoped that Ki tòpi and Pi ‐róma would add their own marks when they became membersof the clan.
Realizing he was falling asleep, he pushed himself from therock and started around the other Teeth, looking for signs ofanyone else. The Shimusògo frequently camped among theserocks, as did a number of other clans, but it was far enoughaway from the normal routes that only a few knew about it. Itdidn’t stop him from looking, just in case yet another ambushwait ed for him.
He yawned as he circled the rocks a second time. He didn’twant to stop, fe a ring he would fall and nev er get up. Every sec ‐ond that he wasn’t running was one second longer that hestrug gled to re main stand ing.
Two days of ru n ning with no sleep, food, or wa ter had ru ‐ined his body. His lips were swollen and bleeding. When hetouched the rock, he could feel tremors cours ing along his mus ‐cles and a searing ache that refused to subside. Dehydrationand starvation gnawed at his insides and a piercing headacheburned in his skull.
He looked out to the horizon and listened to the gentle hissof sand rolling across the dunes. It was a clear day with blueskies stretching out in all directions. In three days, he would
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be home, maybe a little less if he once again walked throughthe night.
Rutejìmo circled back to the poem and hesitated. It was hotand windy, but he didn’t dare stop. He yawned and start ed an ‐other lap around the rocks. He didn’t know how long to wait.There was only one per son who could be wait ing for him, Ma ‐pábyo. Desòchu may have not planned on anyone meetinghim at the Wind’s Teeth like Nifùni had met him earlier. Or,even if he did, it could have been Byo chí na or Chi mípu.
He closed his eyes and continued to pace around the rocks.He prayed Mapábyo had already made it to the valley. Theirchildren were going to need them both in the coming war.Fights among the clans were bloody enough, but going againstthe most powerful clan of the desert would be suicide for theShi mu sògo.
“Jìmo?”Rutejìmo jumped at Mapábyo’s voice as it came past the
rocks. He turned on his heels just as she came around the farend. Her black skin shone in the sunlight, almost drinking itin.
She wore one of her favorite running outfits: red trouserswith an orange top cut low enough he could just barely see theblack dépa tattoo on her shoulder. Her bare feet crunchedthrough the sand as she stood away from the rock and lookedat him.
“Pábyo,” he whis pered hoarse ly.She took a hesi tant step to ward him. “Is it you? Re al ly you?”He nodded, but then hesitated. It felt like he was about to
fall off a cliff, a sense of vertigo tugging him forward. Hestepped for ward, and the sen sa tion passed. Stum bling, he o ‐pened his arms and pulled her into a tight hug.
Her body pressed against his, just as it always had. He couldfeel the heat of her skin and the fa mil iar way her curves ca ‐
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ressed his skin. She pulled back to kiss him, her lips almost ascracked as his own.
She lo oked him over and then gasped. “What hap pened?”“I was at tacked… a few times.”“A few times? You? How?”“The last time,” he said bowing his head, “was two days ago.
Chi mípu came, but she… she…”Mapábyo sniffed and pulled him back into a hug. “I’m sorry,
love. It isn’t fair.”Rutejìmo’s skin crawled for a moment but he pushed it
aside. He held her tight. “Just like Desòchu and Nifùni. Theyare tak ing us one by one.”
“But they didn’t get us.”And then it hit him. Mapábyo always said the same thing in
the quiet moments of their lives. A single phrase that camewhen the rest of the world had re fused to look at him, a greet ‐ing passed her lips every morning they woke together andevery time they parted. There was only one reason shewouldn’t have said it.
He held her against his chest, knowing it was already toolate. “I see you.”
“I’m right here.”And then a pause.Ru te jìmo closed his eyes.The knife slid into Rutejìmo’s side but somehow missed his
lungs. He felt the burn of it as it pierced deep into his body, cut ‐ting through organs before the hilt smacked against his skinand the point broke through the far side. A flash of blackwashed over his vi sion.
She whispered in his ear. “How did you know? I said theright things.” It was his wife’s voice and her face, but the tonewas wrong.
He shook his head and pulled back.She with drew the dag ger and let it drop to the gro und.
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Ru te jìmo clutched his side as blood se eped from the wo ‐und. The dagger had cut deep and left a very small opening.He squ e ezed down on it to hold it shut.
He started to say something, but then the taste of acid rosein his mouth. He coughed and blood coated the back of histhroat. Trem bling, he lift ed his hand to his gaze and saw it wa ‐ver.
“It’s poisoned. You have minutes, maybe an hour at most.”The woman so u nded al most sad.
“Why?”“Beca use I de fend my clan a gainst all e ne mies.”“Even if they are be tray ing Ta chìra?”She nod ded and then held out her hands. “You are an en e ‐
my, Great… Shi mu sogo… Ru te jìmo.”The pause and the u n fa mil iar ca dence of his name i den ti ‐
fied the spe aker. “Great Ko sobyo Di móryo.”She gave a short bow. She didn’t smile.“I thought you were just a guard,” he gro aned.“I am. Just not sec ond rank.”“What are you?”“Cham pi on. One of the four great est war riors of Ko sòbyo.”Rutejìmo felt a trickle coming from his nose. He swayed as
he tried to reach for it, but the blood dripped down into hispalm. He stared at the crim son splat ter and gulped. “M-Mis ‐tress of the Streets?” Gi chyòbi had a sim i lar ti tle.
Her smile bro a dened. “Yes, ac tu al ly.”“What hap pened to Ma pábyo?”“Your wife?”He nodded and then stumbled back from the effort. The
burning in his stomach spread out into his guts and he couldfeel them twisting as the taste of acid bubbled up to tickle theback of his nose.
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Dimóryo sighed and stuck her hands in Mapábyo’s pockets.“We caught her outside of an oasis. She was in a hurry to getthere and failed to no tice our trap.”
He took a step back from her. When she didn’t follow, hetook an oth er. “D-Did she know a bout her pa rents?”
“Yes, we needed information from her and a fear for familymakes it easier to get it. She was told you died also. That finallybroke her.”
Rutejìmo’s eyes blurred and he shook his head. He startedto stumble, but caught himself. He kept backing slowly awayfrom the Ko sòbyo war rior. “H-How do you… have her—”
“Face? Body?”“Y-Yes,” he slurred.“I ne eded in for ma tion and thought her skin would be u se ‐
ful.”He froze at the hard words. “Y-You tor tured her?”“Less than a day, but she told me enough to pretend to be
her. And that’s all we need. Though I obvi ous ly missed some ‐thing. The people around here trust Shimusogo Mapábyo,which we will need in the co ming days.”
Anger grew inside Rutejìmo. He dug his hands into his sideto hold his wo und. “You killed her?”
An oth er bow. “Very few peo ple live long aft er be ing ski ‐nned. It would have been cru el to make her one of them. I e ‐nded it be fore the pain grew too much.”
A wave of darkness crushed Rutejìmo, and blood dribbledout of his nose. He swayed as he tried to find some way of la ‐shing out at the warrior. He had nothing but speed and thedesert. He could outrun her, but he didn’t know how she hadreached the rocks. She may have some way of moving quicklythrough rocks or sand.
Except for in that moment, Rutejìmo had never wanted tokill anyone in his life. He reached out for the desert, desperatefor some we apon.
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The wind rose around him, peppering his skin. He glanceddown for the pat terns. There were lines he had nev er seen be ‐fore on his skin, but they were as familiar as the sand aroundhim. The desert had marked him for death, but there would beno ko ji nōmi to tend to his soul when he died.
Gulping at the blood staining his throat, he whispered to thesand a ro und him. “Please?”
“Please what?” asked Di móryo.Rutejìmo shook his head and knelt down. “Please, give me
some thing,” he whis pered to the desert.Wind buffeted his back, and he felt a prickling of power.
The patterns clinging to his body were clear, he was going todie.
“Please, let me fight.”“You aren’t a fighter, Rutejìmo. The only thing you can do is
die.”Ru te jìmo lo oked up sharply. “Yes, but so can you.”Dimóryo snorted. She shook her head as her hands began
to glow. “Choos ing the sac ri fice. A good way to die.”Gro a ning, Ru te jìmo pushed him self into a stand ing po si ‐
tion. “No… I can do this.” He tried to speak for Mifúno, but hecouldn’t. The energy wouldn’t rise inside him, as if the desertre sist ed him.
He pulled with all his mental might, knowing he might diebe fore he fin ished.
The wind grew stronger, ripping at his clothes. He felt all theaches and pains slam into him, but he con ti nued to pull hard ‐er, draw ing on the might of the end less desert.
And then there was no more resistance. In a single moment,he became one with the desert, an endless expanse that wastoo large and too pow er ful for his mind to com pre hend. Sad ‐ness and joy crashed into him, a million people fighting andloving on the sands, rocks, and stones. The intensity burned
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him from the inside, withering his organs as if he had jumpedinto some end less pit of fire and ice.
The wind rose to a howl and then stopped instantly. In thesi lence, he fo und his voice. “I am Ru te jìmo, and I speak for Mi ‐fúno.”
“You a ren’t dressed as a ko ji nōmi right now.”“No, but in this moment, I will gladly trade my life to kill the
one who harms my family and broke the laws of this desert.You are dead to me, Ko sobyo Di móryo.”
“Like I—”“You are dead to the desert and the sands.” Power burst
along his body, and his voice took on a strange echoing tone,like the voices of the dead speaking through him once again.“You are dead to Mi fúno un til the end of time.”
A ro und her feet, the sand be gan to blow away, form ing a de ‐pression. She looked down at her feet and then clenched bothof her fists. Golden power exploded around her fingers andthen dripped down. Acid burned at the sand crawling awayfrom her.
With a snarl, she jumped out of the pit and over to Ru te ‐jìmo, bringing both hands together to crush him. The fire inher hands left a wave of po ison trail ing be hind her.
Rutejìmo prayed that the words rising in his throat wouldhave the pow er ne eded. “You are dead to Ta chìra!”
The flames sur ro und ing Di móryo’s hands snuffed out in ‐stantly, and she plummeted to the ground. Her impact shookthe earth. The sands instantly crawled away from her, digginga hole a ro und her body.
Rutejìmo coughed and blood dribbled from the corner ofhis mouth. He fought against the urge to curl up and die. Hecould feel Mi fúno wait ing for his death, the lo o ming of the spir ‐it ready to claim him as her own. But, he fought against it.Gasping, he forced the words out. “You… are dead to Chobìreand the wind and the spir its of the desert.”
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The hole grew faster, and she sank rapidly. She clawed at it,but the sides peeled away from her hands, and she clutchedair. He could see her trying to scream out, but no sound camefrom her throat.
She clawed at her face, and it peeled away to reveal thewoman Rutejìmo saw before. Bloody strips fell to the groundonly to dissolve into mist as they struck the sand. She lashedout at the hole around her, but the shifting rock slid away oncea gain.
Rutejìmo’s hands shook as he held them up to the sun. “Youare dead to all the spirits of land and air and you will never,”he screamed through a torn throat, “nev er find peace a gain!”
Dimóryo looked up, her eyes wide with fear, and then theearth col lapsed a ro und her, fill ing the hole in stant ly.
He expected to feel her life fade, but it didn’t. Instead, itsank deep into the ground as more of the sand and rock boiledaway from her. In his mind, he felt as she fell to solid rock farbeneath the surface and then stopped. But, even there, faraway from the sky and air, her life continued to pulse, trappedin some grave far be neath the Wind’s Teeth.
He dropped to the gro und as the pow er, me mo ries, and sens ‐es fled him. He sobbed bloody tears as he thought a bout Ma ‐pábyo being tortured. In the rapidly fading memories from thedesert, he saw his wife’s last breath well up. It was a sin gle ter ri ‐fied scream as she begged for Rutejìmo to save her, a singlephrase he nev er thought he’d hear. “I can’t see you!”
Icy claws gripped his heart, squeezing down until he couldfeel every pulse beating through his body. It burned along hisleft arm and he couldn’t breathe. Everything shook aroundhim as he stared at the sand mark ing the Ko sòbyo war rior’s liv ‐ing grave.
He had lost every thing.
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His stomach heaved, and he vomited. Black ichor pouredout of his mouth followed by crimson blood. He clutched hisheart as he start ed to top ple for ward.
“No!”Finding strength, Rutejìmo caught himself. The desert had
his heart, but he couldn’t give up. Not yet.He pushed himself to his feet and turned away from the
rocks. He had to warn the others. He shoved one foot forwardbut dropped to his knees. More blood ran from his nose andmouth, spla shing on the gro und.
Rutejìmo still had family. He had a boy who called him acow ard and a daugh ter who walked her own way. A clan u ‐naware that the Kosòbyo was poised to slaughter them. Theywere in the valley, and they were helpless if he couldn’t runfast e nough.
He jammed one foot into the sand and staggered forward,barely keeping his balance until Shimusògo ran past. Then, hereached out for the clan spirit and threw everything he couldinto running. A heartbeat later, he felt the burn of the poisonfade un der the eu pho ria of ru n ning.
It would come back, he knew that, but only when hestopped.
As long as he kept running, no more of his family woulddie.
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Chapter 32
Limits
De spite the vast expa nses of the ocean, love and ha tred will al ways meet.—PerilsoftheSeaQueen’sSon (Act 1)
u te jìmo sprinted as fast as he could, gasping with the effortto cover every mile before the sun dipped below the horizon.He didn’t dare stop or even slow down. If he did, the poisoncould take hold, and he may not sur vive an oth er step.
He focused on the dépa before him, ignoring everythingelse in the world except for his endless attempts to catch upwith the translucent bird. So long as he did, he could ignoreany thing else, in clud ing the over whelm ing need for food, wa ‐ter, or the blood in his ve ins.
The sun was al most be low the hori zon. Every pass ing sec ‐ond brought him a chain closer to his destination. He wasn’tgoing to make it. He knew there was no force in the universethat would let him reach home be fore the sun set.
De spair hung over him, a dark cloud of death that chased af ‐ter him. It was Mifúno, he could feel whispers echoing in hismind. There was no anger or excitement, only a calling to slowdown and let obliv ion take him.
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The temptation was powerful, but the fear for his familywas stro nger.
Foot after foot, mile after mile, he ran at his limit and keptpushing against the restrictions of his own spirit. Rutejìmocouldn’t cha nnel pow er fast e nough, even kno wing that Mi ‐fúno chased after him. He may have cheated death but only fora day.
The dépa took a sharp turn to the left.Surprised, Rutejìmo dug into the sand and ripped a deep
furrow in the ground before he slowed down enough to turn.He surged for ward and shot aft er Shi mu sògo.
Arrows slammed into the ground behind him. He didn’tknow if they would explode like before but he was already pastthem before the next ones caught up with him. He felt onegraze his ribs, but it was nothing compared to the searingagony al ready eat ing him from the in side.
The dépa jerked to the side and he followed, leaving a longgouge in the sands before shooting out. More arrows flashedpast him. One of them caught the wind and flut tered away, zo o ‐ming past his ear as he raced by.
He wished he could grab one and throw it back, but hedidn’t dare. He needed to run. He followed the dépa, duckingand weaving the arrows until they no longer sailed past him.The bird straightened and so did he, accelerating back up tofull speed in a mat ter of sec onds.
Rutejìmo held his breath and waited for the one last luckyshot, but it never came. Wind howled past him, ripping at hisskin and drying the blood and vomit on his chest. He didn’tcare, so long as he kept mov ing.
The left side of his face ached, and his vision clouded overwith crimson. He tried to wipe it off his face. He pulled back astained hand from where his nose was bleeding and his eyeswere drip ping black.
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Be tween one foot step and an oth er, the dépa and the sun ‐light disappeared. Rutejìmo let out a cry as he fell forward. Hecurled his shoul ders as he hit the hard gro und and rolled for ‐ward. He dug into the rocks with his hands, crack ing his fi ‐nger nails but find ing pur chase to re gain his feet.
No longer able to pull on the power of Shimusògo, Rutejìmoran with only his physical body. Bare feet slipped and smackedagainst the smooth rock. He tripped and clawed at the ground,us ing hands and feet to keep mov ing for ward.
He reached the edge of the smooth rock and stumbled onrough gravel beyond. Thankful for the sharp rocks that slicedat his palms and feet, he staggered forward without lookingback. As soon as he did, Mi fúno would catch him.
Whimpering, he reached a ridge along the gravel and ranalong it. He hated that he cried out with every step, and theragged, wet gasps escaping his throat, but he couldn’t stop. Hehad to tell his clan.
Ru te jìmo kept ru n ning even when the sun’s light fad ed. So ‐on, he was blind ly crawl ing in the dark, u nsure if he was head ‐ing in the right direction or racing toward a cliff. In his mind,he could imagine a thousand deaths that would take him inthe night. He had seen giant snakes, men falling off cliffs, oreven a sharp rock that cut an artery or sliced into a groin. A mil ‐lion ways to die and he was still rac ing in the pitch dark ness.
Blood po ured down his chest and so aked his thighs. The po ‐ison continued to burn his insides, but he had nothing left tothrow up. He wanted to curl up and die, to find a bed, to findpeace, or even a sharp rock that would end the agony in aflash. Any thing oth er than ru n ning through the hor rid dark ‐ness and pray ing that the spir its would guide him.
A wave of nausea crashed into him, and weakness took himout at the knees. He pitched forward and slammed into rocks,his head striking something that left bright sparks floatingacross his vi sion.
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“No!” he gasped and dug his hands into the ground, pullinghimself forward without a clue where he was going. He sobbedand dug his cracked nails into the rock.
His legs re fused to work. He sobbed as the rocks scraped a ‐gainst his belly and chest, cutting at his flesh. He gripped rocksfurther along and pulled himself harder, inching across theblack desert as he tried to reach home.
And then his hand caught noth ing. He pawed at the air, try ‐ing to find purchase, but nothing came to his grip. He sobbedas he clawed down, batting at the ground as he clutched to theside of the sharp edge. He had fo und his cliff.
“No… no, this can’t be it.”Footsteps crunched before him. He felt a blast of hot breath
a gainst his back.Crying out, he tried to pull back but lost his balance. With a
scream, he fell forward only to land on sharp rocks. He rolledagainst his side until sharp rocks digging into his back stoppedhim. They were short, but it felt like a thousand knives digginginto his skin.
So me one coughed, a man.And then a woman’s voice spoke close to him. “You really
are pathetic, aren’t you?” It was a voice that plucked memoriesfrom beneath the veil of pain and exhaustion. His first shikāfu,his obsession for ten years that almost destroyed Rutejìmo’slove for Ma pábyo. It was Pa bi n kue Mi káryo.
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Chapter 33
Pabinkue Mikáryo
There are no words shared between horse and human, but I can hear themas close as any lover’s whis per.
—Pa bi n kue Tsub àyo
here was no wind on Rutejìmo’s face, and his feet weren’tto u ching the gro und. He gasped as he tore him self out of un ‐consciousness. His broken fingernails scraped against therocks as he tried to push himself to his feet and start runninga gain.
“Keep him down,” snapped Mi káryo.A strong hand caught Rutejìmo in the chest and shoved him
back down into the soft ness of a sle e ping roll.“N-No, I have…” He coughed, wincing at the hoarseness of
his breath and the burn of acid in the back his throat. “… can’tstop. I can’t!” He pawed at the hand, not seeing the man whoheld him down but feeling the muscular grip that held himdown.
“Stay down, Jìmo.” It was the man speaking. The pressureon his chest increased, but Rutejìmo continued to flail. Andthen he felt a knee drive into his thigh, pinning him down asthe oth er hand caught his shoul der. “Down!”
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Ru te jìmo sobbed. “P-Po i son, I can’t—”“You aren’t going to die tonight, I promise,” said Mikáryo as
she knelt next to him.Between his gasping, he could hear the crunch of sand as it
com pact ed un der her weight. He clutched for her, his hands pa ‐wing against her until he realized he was touching bare thighclose to her hip. She was warm com pared to the cool air a ro ‐und her.
She chuck led. “No, hold on. Just grip there.”He obeyed, fingers digging into her flesh until he felt her hip
bone. Moments later, his strength faded and his hand slumpeddown.
“There you go. You a ren’t go ing die.”“Tonight at least,” amended the other man. It sounded like
Tsubàyo, a former member of the Shimusògo clan who tried tosacrifice Rutejìmo to Mikáryo. But that was over fifteen yearsago, and both of their lives had gone se parate ways.
“B-Bàyo?”“Yeah, Jìmo. It’s me.”“W-Why can’t I see?”Mikáryo leaned into him, and he felt the rim of a cup
pressed to his lip. “Here, drink this. It’s go ing to taste hor rid.”Rutejìmo opened his cracked lips and hot liquid flowed into
his mouth. It was cop pery and sharp. He choked on it, sputte ‐ring as it over flowed his mouth.
“Sit him up,” com ma nded Mi káryo.Tsub àyo got off Ru te jìmo and pulled him into a sit ting po si ‐
tion.Ru te jìmo saw move ment in his right eye as the vi sion start ‐
ed to clear. In his stomach, the heat pooled with a comfortingwarmth.
“Here, drink some more. Your vi sion will come back a lit tle.”“W-What about—” He gulped and then gasped as the liquid
co ated his a ching throat on its way down. “—the po ison?”
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“It’s still there, but Bàpo will hold it at bay for the night. Itwill still be there in the morning, but by then you’ll be runningand you won’t feel it.”
“B-Bàpo? Who is Bàpo?”“Her horse,” said Tsubàyo as his grip on Rutejìmo’s shoulder
in cre ased. “Now shut up and drink the sun-damned blood.”Ru te jìmo felt his stom ach clench. “B-Blood?”“Bàyo,” said Mikáryo in a sharp voice, “he didn’t have to
know that.”“He’s just go ing to whim per as soon as he sees it. He is pa ‐
thet ic that way.”Rutejìmo’s vision came back slowly. He looked up to see
Tsubàyo kneeling next to him. He was older than Rutejìmo butonly by a few years. As a child, burning oil had scarred his faceand right shoulder. Over a decade of riding in the desert hadde e pened the dis fi gu re ments with sharp edges and deep fur ‐rows.
Tsubàyo looked down at Rutejìmo. “Drink, Jìmo, it’s the onlything ke e ping you alive. I’d rather Bàpo’s sac ri fice didn’t go u n ‐he eded.”
Rutejìmo nodded and opened his mouth, still staring atTsubàyo. When he felt the rim of the cup pressed against hislips, he gulped deeply and tried not to think about the sourceof the heat or the com fort he ga ined from a crea ture’s blood.
Tsubàyo had stripped down to his loin cloth. Hard musclesdefined his body but Rutejìmo saw scores of fading scars alonghis arms and shoulders. One of them bisected his scar tissue,cre at ing a ridge be tween the bot tom and up per half. A dis col ‐oration remained at the end of the cut, it looked like a bladehad been left in the wo und.
Ru te jìmo drank deeply as he fo cused on Tsub àyo’s scars.“There you go,” said Mikáryo as she drained the last of the
cup into Rutejìmo. “That should keep you with us for another
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hour.” There was a scuff of the cup being set down and thenstrong fi ngers caught Ru te jìmo’s chin.
Mikáryo tilted his head toward her, and Rutejìmo let her.The vision in one eye scanned along the ground, pausing whenhe saw Mi káryo’s mas sive black horse on his side, sides heav ‐ing with labored breath. He felt a pang of sadness, and then hewas lo o king at her.
She lo oked just like he re mem bered from five years ago, ex ‐cept for more wrinkles and gray strands in her black hair. Herskin was dark brown with black horse tattoos covering everyinch except for a few bare areas. Like Tsubàyo, she hadstripped down to her breast strap and a lo in cloth, but Ru te ‐jìmo knew what she lo oked like un der neath even the thin fab ‐ric cove ring her. She was his first in many ways.
Mikáryo cupped Rutejìmo’s chin with both hands, peeringat him with her green eyes. “One eye is ru ined, isn’t it?”
“I-I can’t see out of it.”“The po ison has filled it. Can you run with one eye?”He nod ded. “I-I have been for al most a day now.”“Good. I hope who ev er did this got what they de served.”Rutejìmo remembered the look of horror on Dimóryo’s face
as the sand swal lowed her. “I… I think I killed her.”Tsub àyo snort ed back a laugh.Mi káryo glanced at him and then back. “I have trou ble be ‐
liev ing that.”“S-She killed—” He sobbed at the memory. Tears burned his
eyes as he inhaled sharply, his shoulders shaking as he tried tohold in his sor row.
Mikáryo pulled him to her chest, her hard body somehowgiv ing com fort to him as much as her breasts.
He shook as he wrapped his arms around her and sobbed.“She killed Pábyo. Tort… tortured her. And… I… was so angry,and I couldn’t do anything.” The words came out in bursts,
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punctuated by wet gasping. He was weak, and it was his onlyhope.
“And you killed her?”“I… asked the desert to de clare her dead.”Mi káryo stiff ened un der his grip.“And the sun… and the moon.” He sobbed and closed his
eyes. “And the wind. And then she lost her powers… and thenthe gro und swal lowed her up.”
Tsub àyo gro aned. “Oh, sun fuck me in the eye.”Mikáryo took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around
Ru te jìmo. “You killed her, Ru te jìmo.”“He didn’t kill her!” Tsub àyo snapped, “He cre at ed a ni ‐
bonyāchu. A de mon. How—”“Bàyo!” Mikáryo rested her head on Rutejìmo’s shoulder.
“It’s okay. You killed her, and she is going to suffer for the restof time for what she did.”
Rutejìmo let out a long gasp and slumped against Mikáryo,the strength flood ing out of him.
“Jìmo?”“I…” He thought about what he did. “I didn’t know what else
to do.”“No, for a mur dered wife, that was ap pro pri ate,” said Mi ‐
káryo. “Though most husbands just stab the killer, not doomthem to end less suffe ring and tor ture.”
Tsub àyo gru nted.Mikáryo lifted her head. “You would have done the same
thing, Bàyo.”“She wasn’t mur dered.”Rutejìmo stiffened. He tried to remember Tsubàyo’s wife’s
name. He did, though he was drunk when Mikáryo told him.Lift ing his head, he turned to look at Tsub àyo. “Ro ji ki nomi Fi ‐múchi? You lost her?”
Tsubàyo’s eyes widened and then he looked at Mikáryo.“You know her?”
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“Káryo,” he remembered that Mikáryo insisted on familiarnames, “told me a bout her. And you had three chil dren.”
Tsub àyo’s ex pres sion soft ened. “She died last year, in child ‐birth. For our sixth.” He ducked his head. “We lost the girl too.”
Rutejìmo sniffed. “I’m sorry.” He held out his hand. “Ithurts.”
The ex pres sion hard ened. “What would you know?”“I lost my first child, a boy, the day Ge mènyo died.”Tsubàyo froze, his face paling. “Mènyo? How? He was… the
only one nice to me.”Ru te jìmo choked on the me mo ries. “I…”Mikáryo squeezed him. “Go on, it’s going to be a long night,
and you can’t sleep.”He lo oked back at her. When she shook her head, he re ‐
signed himself to a long night and turned back to Tsubàyo.Closing his eyes, he dredged up the painful memories andstarted his tale at the point Mikáryo rejected him for the lasttime.
It took him hours to speak, punc tu ated only by Mi káryo go ‐ing to the horse’s body to draw more blood. Rutejìmo wantedto ask what she was doing to the creature, but she pushed himto keep speaking about his life and the subtle way she changedthe top ic told him the ques tion would nev er be an swered.
He told the two more about his life than anyone besidesMapábyo knew. Of the loss of his child, what he did when castout of his clan, and even the struggles to learn and perform thepurification rituals. With her prodding, he even went into thedetails of the deaths he had seen and the growing realizationthat he was co nnect ed to Mi fúno long be fore this jour ney.
When he finished, he felt drained—but also relieved. Aweight had been removed from his shoulders. He took a deepbreath, thankful that whatever Mikáryo gave him had easedhis throat, and looked up at Tsubàyo who sat across from himwhile Mi káryo cra dled him with her body.
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Ru te jìmo sighed. “I… I don’t know what else to say.”“Do you think,” asked Tsub àyo, “that be ing a ko ji nōmi is re al ‐
ly like be ing a war rior? That you’re go ing to die serv ing her?”Ru te jìmo nod ded.“And yet you nev er gave up.”“I… couldn’t. Now, I’m trying to save my children and my
clan.”“But, you’re going to die.” Tsubàyo’s eyes glittered in the
light of a small fire.Be hind Ru te jìmo, Mi káryo’s grip on his side tight ened.Ru te jìmo nod ded a gain.“Well, that makes things difficult.” Tsubàyo stood up and
walked into the dark ness.Rutejìmo watched him leave, a prickle of discomfort rising.
He felt it gathe ring in his shoul ders and his stom ach.Mikáryo pulled him down against her chest. “Don’t mind
him. He’s just strug gling with some thing we were told to do.”He leaned into her and drank from the offered cup. It was
stallion blood, but there were herbs and powders that Mikáryoadded to it. It didn’t stop the poison, but it halted its ravagingof his body.
Mikáryo set down the cup and wrapped her arms aroundRutejìmo. “It’s easy to accept a command to kill a man youknow when you’re still an gry.”
Ru te jìmo’s body tensed.“It’s harder when you’ve walked a mile in his footsteps. Your
sto ry re mi nded Bàyo that you a ren’t much diffe rent than him.”“You were told to kill me?”Mi káryo squ e ezed him as an an swer.“Not the Shi mu sògo? Not the oth ers?”“No, the elders of Pabinkúe were quite specific. Shimusogo
Rutejìmo. You are the first, last, and only one to make it thisfar. The others have already been killed, so Kosòbyo thinks thatif they stop you here, their se cret will be safe.”
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Ru te jìmo closed his eyes.“I’m not go ing to kill you, Jìmo.”“Why not? Your clan de ma nded it.”She squeezed him again and leaned forward to rest her
head against his. “I care more about my shit than I do aboutmy clan. They are my family and my elders, but that doesn’tmean I agree with them.”
“Won’t they be an gry?”“Yes. They may even kill me for this, but I’m still going to do
it.”“Why?”“Because you are…” She smiled. “… pathetic. Helpless. I still
see that little boy peeing his trousers as he tried so hard to bebrave.”
Ru te jìmo blushed.“And then again when Bàyo tried to sacrifice you to save his
own life. But, even then, I saw a strength in you. It went be ‐yond the whimpe ring—”
Ru te jìmo gri maced.“—and the pe e ing—”Ru te jìmo squirmed in dis com fort.“—and the whi ning—”“I get the po int.”She smirked. “—there was just something that I saw in you.
Maybe it was the thing Chyòbi told you a bout.”It took Ru te jìmo a heart beat to re al ized she was talk ing a ‐
bout Wa mi fuko Gi chyòbi.She chuckled. “I think it is something else. You had spirit
and determination. You made a lot of mistakes, but you alsokept try ing.”
Rutejìmo settled back down. He took a deep breath andwinced at the ache in his body. He was going to die soon, but itonly tempered the gift of having one more night to live. “I’m acow ard.”
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“Says the man who walked into a plague valley, risked hisbrother killing him to save his clan, or even kept running intodanger because his boy and girl needed him. I don’t knowwhere you got the idea that you’re a coward, Jìmo, because youaren’t. You are just as strong as the rest of us, maybe strongersince most peo ple would let their weak ness de fine them.”
“I am weak.”“And yet you a ren’t known as the we ak est Shi mu sògo. A ro ‐
und here, you are Rutejìmo, the kojinōmi who treats the dayand night as al lies. The one who so mehow bridged the gap be ‐tween Tachìra and Chobìre and became one of the few Mifúnoto ever ex ist.”
“I re al ly am Mi fúno?”She chuckled. “Mifúno is a wonderful but vengeful mother.
If you spoke for her without her permission, you would havedied before the words left your lips. I couldn’t even joke aboutit, but you did. The Pabinkúe heard rumors of you speaking forMifúno long before the Kosòbyo came to us with an offer ofpow er and mon ey.”
Rutejìmo took a deep breath. He felt warm in her grasp anddre aded the mo ment he would have to run.
“Why did they take it?”“Beca use of… Bàyo, I think.”“Bàyo?”“He didn’t tell you this, but when his wife was dying, he
asked me to find you.”Ru te jìmo tensed.“But, Múchi’s father fought against that. And as elder of the
Rojikinòmi, his weight held much more sway than Bàyo’s. Itcame to blows and Bàyo lost. He was chained in the caveswhen Múchi and the girl died. Her father released him when itbecame grim, but it was too late. Both of them knew, though,that I could have found you before they lost her. And,” Mikáryosighed and wrapped her arms around Rutejìmo’s chest for a
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long moment, “I think they both blame you for not beingthere.”
“H… How could I?”“It doesn’t matter. Losing a daughter or a wife poisons the
heart. Neither could stab the other, so they used you as thesafe tar get for her loss.”
“But, why did Bàyo ask?”Tsub àyo ap proached and sat down heav i ly. “Beca use, de ‐
spite what was be tween us, I re spect you above all oth er ko ji ‐nōmi. You spoke with your heart, and you never gave up. And,just like Káryo, I kept lo o king for you—”
“Bàyo!” snapped Mi káryo.“—every time we e n tered Wa mi fuko City, beca use we both e ‐
nded up ca ring a bout you.”“He didn’t have to know that.”Tsub àyo raised an eye brow at her.“Horse-thief,” mut tered Mi káryo as she le aned back.“Out cast,” replied Tsub àyo with a grin.Rutejìmo stared at them both, then lifted his head to look at
her. “But, you cast me aside. I wanted to go with you and you…threw me away.”
Mikáryo sighed, and her eyes sparkled in the light. “Becauseyou couldn’t go where I needed to go. But that doesn’t mean Ididn’t love you.”
“But….”“Jìmo, you had to find your own path. And you did. Look at
where you are, at what you’ve done. You wouldn’t have foundthat a mong the Pa bi n kúe, and I knew it.”
Ru te jìmo bowed his head.“I do love you. And I still do, which is why I’m here and not
bri n ging your head to the Ko sòbyo like they de ma nded.”The back of his throat tick led, and he coughed. And then a ‐
gain. When he pulled his hand back, there was fresh blood onit.
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Mikáryo stood up and hurried toward her horse. Rutejìmowatched as she knelt by her favorite stallion’s throat and hefelt a pang of sadness. The horse shuddered and then slumpeddown.
Rutejìmo bowed his head, mouthing a prayer to Mifúno forthe horse’s sac ri fice.
She came back with tears in her eyes and a fresh cup.“Come, drink this, and I will tell you some stories. We still havea long night, and we have to keep you up.”
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Chapter 34
One Last Time
Even the most in signifi cant per son is a lead in their own play.—Stomk er Di san
i káryo chuck led. “Aft er that, Hūni re fus es to talk to Bàyo a ‐gain.” She drank from a wine bot tle.
Rutejìmo was cradled by the same arm and the movementground his cheek against her breast. He took a deep breath ofthe faint perfume of oil and dust that permeated her clothing.His eyes fluttered close with his exhaustion and the ache in hissock ets.
She relaxed and released him. A second later, she tappedhis thigh with the bot tom of the bot tle. If it wasn’t for the po ‐ison, it was a light touch but it felt like she was punching hisleg.
Forcing his eyes open, he looked up at her. A sad longingfilled him. For ten years, he had a shikāfu for her, a flame forthe only woman in his life. Only when Mikáryo cast him out inhis mo ment of need had he fo und his true love, Ma pábyo.
Sorrow bubbled up, and he leaned back against her. Shewasn’t holding him like a lover this time, but as an anchor. Heneeded something to keep him going on through the night.
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With each passing hour, he could feel Mifúno rising in thedarkness, the force that avenged his wife’s and his clan’s deathex pect ed her due.
He closed his eyes.“No,” whispered Mikáryo in his ear. Her warm breath tickled
along his lobe. “You can’t sleep.”He forced his eyes open. “I’m not.”“And don’t think a bout that ei ther.”“They all died.”“Yes, but you are still here. You will see them soon enough;
don’t rush to her breasts. Focus on today and your run, nothingelse.” She squ e ezed him tight.
“And then what?”“Just run. It will—” Her whis pers stopped sharply.Fear prick led Ru te jìmo’s skin. “Káryo?”Mi káryo lift ed her head. “Bàyo?”Tsub àyo was stand ing up. “It’s time.”“Time?” Ru te jìmo lo oked a ro und and then stood up as Mi ‐
káryo pushed him to his feet. “Time for what?”Standing up, he saw a sliver of brightness along the eastern
horizon. The sun would not rise for another half hour. Heswayed from hours of in ac tiv i ty and the burn of the po ison be ‐gan to creep back into his senses. It burned at his nostrils. Hepressed one fi nger to his nose, but the bleed ing had not yet be ‐gun. “Káryo?”
Mi káryo hur ried over to her horse. The black stal lion no lo ‐nger breathed, but she still circled to kneel in front of it. Herdark skin, covered in tattoos, seemed to crawl as she rested herhand on the dead an i mal. “Thank you, Great Pa bi n kue Da to ‐bàpo.”
Stand ing up, she sniffed once. “Ru te jìmo, the rest of the Pa ‐binkúe know you’re here. They come from all directions andwill be here in less than ten min utes.”
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Rutejìmo gasped and then grabbed his only belonging, themessage case. Slinging it over his shoulder, he looked around.“I… I need sun light to run.”
She gathered up her own clothes and quickly dressed in lessthan a minute. He fo cused on her two we apons. Both were ta ‐zágu, one was unnamed and the other glowed brightly. “No,you only need feet to run. Bàyo?”
Tsub àyo tugged his shirt over his head. He reached back ‐wards just as one of the black hors es stepped out of the dark ‐ness, se e ming ly out of sol id stone. Ru te jìmo knew that the Pa ‐binkúe’s magic was to move through darkness, but it alwaysterrified him when he saw a horse appearing from nowhere.Without a noise, Tsubàyo turned and swung onto the horse’sback.
Mi káryo clicked her to ngue. “Who is out there?”Tsubàyo lifted his head. He nodded and the horse silently
tapped its foot against the rocks. “I feel Fín’s, Gìbi’s, Óchi’s,Pòja’s, and Káki’s herds. Just under a thousand head. They areall co ming in at my lim its. Hūni is out there, but she’s just rid ‐ing Dāpa.”
Rutejìmo frowned at the unfamiliar names. He had heardsome of them in Mikáryo’s and Tsubàyo’s stories. None ofthem were there to save him.
Mikáryo shook her head. “I can stop Hūni, how many canyou han dle if you start with Fín?”
Tsubàyo looked at her, the scar on his face dark in the palelight of their dy ing flame. “All of them.” He smiled grim ly.
A smile stretched across Mikáryo’s face. “My little horsethief. I al ways said you could steal Pa bi n kúe her self.”
Turning to Rutejìmo, she grabbed his shoulders and lookedat him. “Jìmo… Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo.”
Rutejìmo swallowed and trembled. Mikáryo had never usedhis full name be fore.
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She opened her mouth and then closed it. Shaking herhead, she let out a short, bitter snort. “I’ve been spending allnight trying to figure out how to say this. And everything I canthink of just comes off as insulting. I’m sorry, I just don’t havethe words.”
Rutejìmo glanced away to avoid showing his tears. Hewished he could say some thing him self, to thank for her risk ‐ing her own life to save him from the night.
The burn ing in his nose in cre ased and he felt blood trick ‐ling down his lip. Sniffing, he wiped it away and caught sightof Mikáryo’s horse. An idea blossomed and he dug down to seeif he had the energy to thank her properly. After a moment, hede cid ed he would sim ply try. Slip ping from her hand, he he ‐aded for the corpse.
“Jìmo,” said Mikáryo, “what are you doing? You don’t havetime to do any thing for Bàpo.”
As he ap proached, he prayed to Mi fúno. The wind rose a ro ‐und him, peppering him with sand but also giving himstrength. She would help him, he knew it, even though she de ‐manded his death. With a trembling hand, he pressed hispalm a gainst the cool body of Mi káryo’s com pa ni on.
The horse didn’t move, but suddenly ash poured out of itsbody. The corpse dis solved un der neath his hand, flesh beco ‐ming a fire’s ash with no flame to create it. It swirled aroundhim in a black cloud be fore the wind blew it away.
Weakness drove into him as the power faded. He struggledto remain standing as the burn of poison and the ache of hisinju ries ig nit ed. Turn ing a ro und, he strug gled to walk back.
Tsub àyo and Mi káryo stared in shock, their eyes fo cused be ‐yond Rutejìmo. He could feel the wind blowing behind him,and knew the desert took the ash away. He didn’t have to lookback to know Mi fúno had ac cept ed the horse’s spir it.
Mi káryo’s jaw dropped as she turned her head to him.
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Rutejìmo fought a wave of dizziness and struggled to keepit from his face. He wanted to thank her, and passing outwouldn’t let him do it. “You’re right. I am a Mi fúno.”
A tear welled in her eye. She stepped into him and huggedhim tight. Her lips caressed his and drew back bloody. “I waswrong, Jìmo. You a ren’t pa thet ic.”
There was a brief pause, and then she nod ded.Ru te jìmo bowed to her, but said noth ing.A black horse stepped out of the darkness. It was a stallion
but one Rutejìmo had never seen. Mikáryo grabbed his maneand pulled herself up. She nodded once to Tsubàyo and thenclicked her to ngue.
The horse jumped for ward, div ing into the shad ow Ru te ‐jìmo cast on sol id rock. Even as Ru te jìmo winced, she dis ap ‐peared from what was left of his sight and out of what re ma ‐ined of his short life.
Gulp ing, Ru te jìmo shiv ered and then turned.Tsubàyo motioned for him to follow and turned his horse,
not diving into darkness but walking to the southwest, towardShi mu sogo Val ley.
Rutejìmo followed, jogging to keep up. Every step was astruggle, with the poison coming back in sharp waves ofagony.
The minutes stretched toward the moment when the sunrose above the horizon. Rutejìmo could feel the anticipationgro wing.
“You’re go ing to die.”He lo oked up at Tsub àyo who con ti nued to stare for ward.“No matter what happens, you’re going to die as soon as
you stop ru n ning.”Ru te jìmo nod ded. “I-I know.”“They have a word for that, don’t they? The Shi mu sògo?”“Ryodifūne. The final run.” Rutejìmo shivered at the name.
It was the noble death of the Shimusògo, to die serving the
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clan. “But I can’t do the ryodifūne. I don’t have the power… orthe abil i ty.”
Tsubàyo finally looked at him. “Are you really that stupid?Of course you do.”
“I don’t, Bàyo. I don’t know how they do it. They talk aboutthe death at the end, not how they start ed their run.”
“Jìmo. I’ve hated you most of my life. But, as the years wenton, I realized I could never amount to what you’ve done andwhat you’ve become. You’ve earned your ashes on that damnbird’s statue. You, of all the Shimusògo, belong in the shrine ina place of hon or.”
Rutejìmo sniffed and struggled to keep up. He had to turnhis head to watch Tsub àyo from his one good eye.
“And today is a good time to find out exactly how fast youcan run. Beca use you have al most a tho u sand miles to go be ‐fore you die. If you don’t make it, the setting sun will steal yourpow ers and your fam i ly is go ing to die.”
Rutejìmo ducked his head and mulled over the words. Hedidn’t un der stand the ry o di fūne. It was sup posed to be the cli ‐max of a runner’s life, the point where all their magic comesdown to a single run. It also took their life at the end. Heglanced be hind him.
The wind was already gathering, and he could feel thedesert spir it’s hand re a ching for him. He al ready had death fol ‐lo wing him.
He shivered and focused on the horses around him. Whenthey started the run, there were a few dozen black horses, butin a matter of minutes their numbers swelled. As he watched,more horses burst out of the shadows of the ones alreadythere, adding to the black mass of silent horses surroundinghim.
Ru te jìmo turned back and con cen trat ed on mov ing. Tsub ‐àyo had sped up and Rutejìmo had to shift into a run to keepup with the herd.
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“Look over there.” Tsubàyo gestured but Rutejìmo couldonly see movement. He turned to look where Tsubàyo pointed.In the distance, he spotted black dots moving around fires.“There is a speed clan up there and most of the Pabinkúe. ThePabinkúe will be panicking because they just lost their herds,”he smirked as he spoke. “The speed clan is riding giant lizardsand I couldn’t steal their mo unts.”
He ges tured a head of him. “I was liste ning through the hors ‐es while you rested. The Kosòbyo said that they’ve hired atleast four oth er speed clans to am bush you fur ther along, most ‐ly a ro und the home val ley. If you get there, be ready for an am ‐bush. I sus pect one of them hides un der neath the sand.”
Tsubàyo pointed further to the west. “Up there, past thatridge are the Madashikóme. They are snipers from the south.Not exactly allies of the Pabinkúe, but a small band of themwere in the val ley when the Ko sòbyo hired us.”
Ru te jìmo shiv ered.“They specialize against speedsters and fliers. And the
moon will be above the horizon for about an hour after Tachìrabreaches. Which means that for an hour you have to find someway of out ru n ning them.”
Rutejìmo gulped. “H-How? I can’t run that fast. I nevercould.”
Tsubàyo swept his hands forward, and the black horsescharged. Hundreds of them galloped past and moved to theside, form ing a thick wall of dark ness.
Lowering his hands, Tsubàyo clutched his mount’s maneand leaned over to him. “You have a quarter mile to figure thatout. And then if you don’t, your clan is go ing to die.”
Ru te jìmo glared at him.Tsubàyo favored him with a sad smile. “Shimusògo run,
right?”
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Rutejìmo nodded, and a splatter of blood from his nosesplashed on his thigh. His vision blurred and he felt the acidtick ling the back of his throat.
“Then run.”Ru te jìmo nod ded.“And one more thing…” start ed Tsub àyo.When Rutejìmo looked at him, he gave him a deep bow
from on top of his horse. There were tears gliste ning in Tsub ‐àyo’s eyes. “I… see you, Great Mi funo Ru te jìmo.”
The sun burst over the horizon, and Rutejìmo felt energypour into him. The translucent bird shot forward, and he burstinto move ment aft er it, thro wing him self into ru n ning fast e ‐nough to keep the po ison from killing him.
One of the horses stumbled. A splatter of blood burst out ofthe side of its body just as Rutejìmo raced past it. He spottedthe flash of an arrow, but then the blood sprayed against hisface.
He winced as more cracks followed, piercing through theshield of horses as he raced along with them. He couldn’t seehis oppo nents, but he could feel their ar rows as they slaugh ‐tered the hors es ob scu ring him.
He shud dered with every scream as they dropped.Rutejìmo concentrated on the dépa, trying to push himself,
but he knew his lim its. He glanced up and saw the hors es thi n ‐ning. It had been less than twenty seconds, and he was almostat the end of his shel ter.
Memories of Desòchu’s and Chimípu’s death burst into hismind. He remembered the sorrow of losing his wife and seeingNifùni’s decapitated corpse rotting in the sun. More memoriescame, of the deaths that he had witnessed over the years. Theyflashed past him, and he i mag ined him self in their po si tion.
And then a single moment, frozen at the beginning of hisnightmares: Karawàbi. He was one of the boys who failed therite of passage. Rutejìmo and the others had found him at a
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campsite, his throat cut and his body abandoned. The worstway to die, rot ting in the sands with no one to care for him.
Un less he could run faster, that would be Ru te jìmo’s fate.Rutejìmo sobbed and screamed. He had to run faster, but
his body wouldn’t move.He thought a bout his chil dren, Ki tòpi and Pi róma. Their bod ‐
ies would rot in the sun if Kosòbyo invaded the valley. Thesnake clan wouldn’t give them peace or a proper burial. Therewould be no kojinōmi to guide them and their spirits would bea ba n doned to the winds.
“No!” His voice cracked.An arrow pierced his arm but then snapped as he brought it
down to his hip. The pain flashed through him. He saw a cloudof more arrows rise out of the horizon, sailing in a wave ofdark ness he knew he couldn’t avoid.
With a scream, he pushed with all his might.“Shimusògo!” He heard the voices of the dead echoing in his
throat. Energy flared around him, and there was a crack ofthu nder.
The world blurred around him, the sands turning to haze asthey whipped by.
The ar rows nev er struck.He gasped, but he couldn’t turn away. He couldn’t do any ‐
thing but run. The world blurred around him, moving fasterthan he thought possible. He could feel the ground solidifyingunderneath his feet, but he was no longer riding in the plumeof Shi mu sògo but lead ing it.
The translucent bird, a constant companion for fifteen yearswas no lo nger in front of him.
It was be side him.He had caught Shi mu sògo.Sadness bubbled up but was burned away by an intense
rush of power that poured through him. It tore at his senses
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and his body, destroying him as fast as the poison would have.But Shi mu sògo wouldn’t let him die while ru n ning.
If he stopped, it was over.But he would make it home.
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Chapter 35
Shimusogo Valley
The Ryayu súki are horse rid ers with the abil i ty to pass through sand as eas i ‐ly as most run across the gro und. They are fast, but not the fastest.
—Shi mu sogo To ki mòshi
t just past noon, Rutejìmo first saw Shimusogo Valley, just adark blur along the horizon, a hundred miles away, but theshape of the carved-out val ley was dis tinc tive to those who ap ‐proached it for most of their lives.
He didn’t feel hunger or agony or thirst anymore, only theover po we ring need to reach the val ley be fore he stopped.
His feet slammed across the rocky plains for less than aheartbeat, and then he was past. He heard the wind howlingbehind him and knew a plume would mark his passing, butthere was noth ing he could do to hide his pre sence.
Ahead to both sides, he saw other plumes racing towardhim. Flashes of power and lightning were visible even fromthis distance, and he knew they weren’t Shimusògo. They werethe clans the Ko sòbyo hired to kill him.
Mouthing a prayer to Shimusògo and Mifúno, Rutejìmocontinued to race straight ahead. He didn’t think he could turnwhile running, at this speed he didn’t have any choice. He
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wished he had his tazágu, in the hopes of parrying at least oneblow.
He tried to shift to the side, but the power coursing throughhim drove him forward. He was going to charge straight intothe val ley or die.
Minutes stretched out into a tight ball of tension. He coulddo noth ing but watch as the am bush ap proached him. They a ‐imed for the path a head of him, a per fect am bush with his i ‐nabil i ty to move to the side or dodge.
Then he saw a shadow of a massive bird sailing over thesands to ward him. It was Ta te shyú so, the spir i tu al ally of Shi ‐musògo and the guardians of the valley. The bird spirit’s wingsspread over a quarter mile on sand as she approached. Onemoment, he was racing in the brilliance of Tachìra and then, inthe next, he was in the darkness of the bird’s shadow. Despitehis speed, he didn’t come out the oth er side; the shad ow fol ‐lowed aft er him.
The air wavered before him, hazy as a figure appeared. Itwas Pi dòhu. His body rip pled with his move ment, a translu ‐cent form that did little to obscure the ground behind him. Thethin man wore only a loin cloth but he had a wiry build andhis brown skin shim mered like the wind. His thin hair flut ‐tered.
“Great Shimusogo Rutejìmo. Did your brother give you ahead start to give you a chance to beat him?” Pidòhu smirkedas he ges tured back to the val ley.
Rutejìmo opened his mouth to warn him, but the only noisethat came out was a screech. He tried a gain, but his voice re ‐fused to make any oth er so und.
Pidòhu’s smile dropped instantly. Rutejìmo watched as hetook a second look at Rutejìmo, his eyes gazing down as thewind blew through his ethe real body. When he lo oked up, de ‐ter mi na tion re placed the a mu se ment on his face.
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Turning around, Pidòhu let out a sharp screech of his own.It was de eper in pitch but just as in sis tent as any war rior’s call.
A heartbeat later, two more shadows of Tateshyúso burstout of the valley and sailed toward them. They slammed intothe darkness hovering over Rutejìmo, and two more figures, aman and a woman, appeared in the eye before him. They wereboth dressed like Pi dòhu, with the woman we a ring an ad di ti ‐onal white breast strap. All three of them hovered in front ofRu te jìmo, their translu cent bod ies rip pling with his speed.
Pidòhu turned sharply to the other Tateshyúso. “Rutejìmo isin da nger. Ti kói, check out the move ment to the south. Me no ‐dàka, you—”
Both dis ap peared as their shad ows burst out.Pi dòhu turned to Ru te jìmo. He nod ded curt ly be fore he fad ‐
ed away, and then Ru te jìmo was ru n ning in sun light a gain.He watched as the two shadow spirits covered the distance
in a mat ter of sec onds and then sailed back. The mas sive shad ‐ows swal lowed dunes be fore they set tled over Ru te jìmo.
All three ap peared be fore him. Pi dòhu’s back was to Ru te ‐jìmo but his voice was clear. “There are fliers co ming up be ‐hind him. They are armed with ar rows.”
Tikói shook her head. “Speed riders, lizard and bird. Theyare also armed and I don’t know the clans.”
Me no dàka said, “Archers and fast hors es. I also saw dis tur ‐bances in the sand in front of him, someone is hiding, and Idon’t think they are fri end ly.”
Rutejìmo gasped and tried to say something, but only ascreech came out.
Pidòhu glanced at him and there was sadness in his greeneyes. “I’m sorry, Jìmo. Keep running. I promise you’ll make ithome.”
“What a bout Desòchu and the oth ers?” It was Ti kói, the fe ‐male in front of him.
Ru te jìmo shook his head, un able to say any thing.
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“Damn the sands,” snapped Pidòhu. He pointed to her.“Summon the Ryayusúki in the next valley. Tell them we are inda nger.”
“What about that?” asked Menodàka as he pointed to themes sage case a ro und Ru te jìmo’s neck.
Pidòhu shook his head. “We can’t carry that, it’s too heavy. Ifyou grab it, you’ll lose the wind. No, Rutejìmo must deliver it.Now, you go get the Karāchi and remind them that we have apact to de fend each oth er. And there is no time.”
“Yes, Great Tateshyuso Pidòhu.” The other two disappearedas their shadows sailed off. One headed toward a valley justbarely visible with Rutejìmo’s good eye. He knew it was theRyayusúki clan’s valley, horse riders that had sworn to protectthe Shi mu sògo as they swore to pro tect them in turn. The oth ‐er spirit headed toward a mountain much further away, but itwas the home to a bird rid er clan who had the same pact.
“Rutejìmo, I will tell the Shimusògo. Can you run straightand fast?”
Ru te jìmo nod ded sharply, his vi sion blur ring.“Shimusògo run. Don’t you dare stop,” whispered Rutejìmo’s
fri end, and then he raced to ward the val ley.Rutejìmo watched the spirit disappear into the valley and
then fo cused on the ap pro a ching clans. They were go ing to i ‐ntercept him in less than ten minutes, and he still neededtwice that to make it home. He didn’t know how he could stopbefore slamming into the cliff, his body refused to do anythingbut run.
A ripple of power exploded from the valley entrance. Hewatched as it expanded in a wide circle that flowed across thesands. At the same time, light shone as one of the Shimusògowarriors ignited into flames. It streaked toward him, racing ina straight line that kicked up a burning plume of dust andfeath ers.
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As the rip ple washed over the sands, and all through the val ‐ley Shimusògo dropped what they were doing and raced backto the cliffs. Small plumes of sand and dust followed theirtrails as parents and grandparents brought the children backto the shel ter.
The ripple faded before it reached Rutejìmo, a screech tocall the others. It was his turn to need help, but he knew theywould be too late.
Tateshyúso’s shadow raced ahead of the warrior and settledover Ru te jìmo. Pi dòhu ap peared. “Great Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo.”
Ru te jìmo o pened his mouth, but then closed it.“Run straight, run fast. Don’t slow, no mat ter what. I pro ‐
mise that you will make it.” Pidòhu turned and then threw hishands into the air. Energy crackled but didn’t burn Rutejìmolike the time in Gichyòbi’s room. The two clans had compatibleen er gies that let them use pow ers with out feed back.
The sand around Rutejìmo exploded straight up in a mile-long wave of darkness. Only a rod-wide path remained clear,the same path that Ru te jìmo raced along.
Pi dòhu dis ap peared as his body was ya nked back past Ru ‐te jìmo.
Ru te jìmo plu nged into dark ness. He felt the pow er be gi n ‐ning to ebb around him. Biting down, he dug deep and prayedhe could keep ru n ning.
More sand burst before him, carving out both sides of thepath.
Tornadoes of golden energy rose from the ridge above thevalley entrance. At first, there was one, and then two, and thenmore. A dozen swirling vor tex es of pow er. And near the bot ‐tom, bright discs of energy appeared before shots rocketed outfrom val ley and sailed to ward him.
The side of the storm cloud burst open as a runner, a dark-skinned woman with a curved knife, burst out in a swirl ofsand. She snarled and snapped for ward, charg ing to ward Ru te ‐
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jìmo as her body blurred into the shape of a snake. Not Ko ‐sòbyo, but an oth er snake clan that Ru te jìmo didn’t know.
He wanted to move to the side. But turning was fighting astorm. Both Shimusògo’s power and the wind kept him along astraight line. He let out a scream as he prepared to break offhis path.
Then the golden flame of the Shimusògo warrior caught upwith the snake. A burst of black and gold flared as the two bod ‐ies im pact ed and dis ap peared into the storm cloud.
Rutejìmo gasped and stopped trying to move from his path.He had lost speed and tried to re gain it, but the pow er was be ‐gi n ning to fal ter. He gasped as he re al ized he had slowed him ‐self down. And death came if he stopped.
The burn ing shots from the val ley reached him, dis appe a ‐ring into the sandstorm. Flames exploded inside the violentmael strom, and he saw bod ies of war riors and crea tures sha ‐dowed by the bursts of light.
More shots rock et ed out from the val ley.Suddenly, the ground burst open as a golden figure rose and
slashed at Rutejìmo as he passed. The sparkling weaponcaught Rutejìmo’s arm and sliced through it. The blade caughtbone, and he heard a crack as he spri nted past.
Agony snapped through his body, and he lost his rhythm.His foot caught against a dune, and he was pitched forward.With a scream, he held his hands before him as the groundcame ru shing up.
He caught the impact with both hands, and he saw his rightarm snap in half and tear off when he slammed into the ridge.Before he could scream, he was flying through the air, flippinghelp less ly as blood sprayed out be hind him. He bare ly reg is ‐tered that his arm had ripped off before he hit the ground andbounced a gain.
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The fireballs shooting out from the valley rained down onhis position. He knew they avoided the narrow path he racedalong, but he had bounced out of it when he tripped.
Scre a ming, he saw one of the glo wing shots stre a king to ‐ward him just as he reached the apex of his bounce.
Wind blasted around him, and darkness surrounded him.Pi dòhu ap peared as Ru te jìmo threw his re ma i ning hand for ‐ward. Howling winds shot forward in a spear that knocked theshot away, te a ring a chain-long path out of the sand.
Rutejìmo flew through Pidòhu, bouncing again. He felt hisbones crack and ribs shatter, but his speed shielded him fromthe agony.
More warriors burst out of the sand before him, weaponsdrawn.
Half-blinded by the sand in his good eye, Rutejìmo saw thegro und co ming up a gain. With a grunt, he con cen trat ed on ru n ‐ning as soon as he hit the gro und.
The dépa burst past, and the ground solidified into rock.Curl ing his body, he hit with his shoul der and felt his col lar ‐bone crack, but then he was on his feet and chasing the dépa.He ac cele rat ed, out pac ing Shi mu sògo as he spri nted for ward.
He approached the ambushers in their pits with a strangesense of calm. He couldn’t take more punishment, but hewasn’t go ing to stop.
The ground behind the ambushers swelled up and then twoblood-red horses burst out of the ground. The Ryayusúki hadcome in their heavy armor. Both warriors held long spears intheir hands, and they plunged their weapons into the backs ofthe clos est men poised to at tack Ru te jìmo.
Gra teful, Ru te jìmo blast ed past, out rac ing the screams.Almost to the valley, he saw that most of the clan stood on
ei ther side of his path, hands out stretched as if they were go ‐ing to catch him. In their other hands were slings with rocksswi n ging from the bot tom.
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At the end of the im promp tu cor ri dor was Te jíko, his grand ‐mother and the eldest of the clan. She stood straight, her braidwhip ping back and forth as she yelled some thing.
Rutejìmo whimpered. He couldn’t stop without hurting hisgrandmother. Pidòhu also said to not stop. He bore down andcharged for ward straight for his grand moth er.
He reached the first ranks of the Shimusògo before he couldblink. He felt two hands smack him, and then his body shud ‐dered as part of his speed poured out of him, into the hands,and then into the slings. Transferring momentum was one ofthe Shimusògo powers, but he had never seen someone gofrom stand ing still to in stant move ment be fore.
In a burst of light, two shots fired back the way he hadcome, crack ing the air.
More hands smacked against him, bleeding off his speed asthey used it to create vortexes of spinning power. The cracks ofthe flaming shots burst behind him as his speed was turnedinto we apons for those who chased him.
He slammed into his grandmother weakly. She staggeredback as he collapsed into her, dropping to his knees as bloodsplattered against her. More of it poured out the ragged end ofhis right arm, so a king into her dress.
The three Tateshyúso appeared next to him and threw theirhands up. Wind screamed as it tore down the front of the cliffand then away from the valley. There was a rumble of powerand then a crack of thu nder.
“Jìmo!” cried his grand moth er as she dropped to her knees.The stench of blood and acid filled the air around him. He
glanced at the stump of his arm and then lo oked away as na ‐usea thre a tened to over whelm him.
“What hap pened?” snapped Te jíko.Hands were on him, holding him down as more people
wrapped his arm to sta unch the blood.
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Rutejìmo ignored them as he looked at his grandmother.His mouth opened, and he tried to say words, terrified thatonly screeches would come out. “K-Kos…” Gasping with relief,he re al ized he could talk. “Ko sòbyo are… co ming to kill… us.”
He fumbled for the case, hoping that she could understandit.
Te jíko snapped the strap off his neck and tossed it to an oth ‐er Shi mu sògo. She gripped Ru te jìmo. “Where are the oth ers?”
“Dead. Kiríshi… also dead. They are hunting us. Ambushed.Hyonèku is hurt… with the Wamifūko.” He was desperate tospeak before the poison killed him. He could already feel itburn ing the back of his throat.
Te jíko’s lips pressed into a line. She lo oked up. “That mer ‐chant who showed up yes ter day with out warn ing?”
“Yes, Great Shimusogo Tejíko,” said one of the Shimusògowar riors.
“Kill him.”There was a blast of air as the woman dis ap peared.Pidòhu knelt next to Tejíko. “Great Shimusogo Tejíko. There
are siege weapons coming in from the south. Metal scorpionsand snakes. Fast clans come from the side, and they are armedfor war.”
Tears sparkled in Tejíko’s eyes as she shook her head.“Why?”
Rutejìmo clutched her with his hand, sobbing as he felt thepo ison te a ring at his in sides. “Ko sòbyo… is go ing to Cho bìre.”
A stu nned si lence.“Please, Grand moth er… I pro mise, it’s true.”Tejíko clutched him. “I trust you, Jìmo.” She lifted her head.
“They obviously are trying to stop the message before it goesout. And we nev er fail to de liv er our mes sage.”
There was a blast of air as the warrior who had left for themer chant came back, her hand drip ping with blood. “Done.”
Ru te jìmo gasped for air.
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“Papa!”“Jìmo!”He jerked when he heard his children. He looked up as they
raced toward him, but then Tejíko held up her hand. Theydidn’t slow until two elderly Shimusògo caught them andpicked them off the gro und.
Ki tòpi screamed. “That’s my papa!”Tejíko snapped at him. “Not now!” She turned around. “We
need to save the children. They can’t be in this war. Where canwe take them?”
“The Ryayusúki will take them,” said an older man. He wasthe elder of the horse clan. Rutejìmo had tended to his secondwife when she died of a rot ted wo und.
Rutejìmo groaned as flecks of crimson began to dance in hisgood eye. He watched his son struggling to free himself fromthe el der. Two oth ers jo ined in to hold him.
Pi róma stood still, her eyes locked on his.A heavily armored man knelt next to Tejíko, bowing. “The
Ryayu súki will pro tect them with our lives.”Te jíko nod ded. “We have to de liv er this mes sage.”“I heard.”“As did the Ka rāchi.” It was a woman. She la nded on the gro ‐
und. Her cloak of feathers settled down as she bowed deeply,her forehead touching the ground. Rutejìmo saw a mark onher forehead, but didn’t recognize the symbol. “Who will youde liv er it to?”
“Everyone,” growled Tejíko before she spoke up, “If you canrun, run. Ràchyo and Záji, we were wait ing for Desòchu to re ‐turn for your rites of passage. Decide now if you are a child oran adult. If you stay with us, you’ll find Shimusògo in battle ordie.”
The two te enagers gasped.“Shi mu sògo!” Her voice echoed a gainst the walls. “We are a ‐
bandoning the valley. Children go with our allies. Warriors go
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out to protect the ones on courier runs. All contracts areburned as of this point! The rest of you, take what you needand run. Find shel ter but de liv er this mes sage: Ko sòbyo is a ba ‐n do ning Ta chìra.”
Air exploded around them as the Shimusògo raced backinto the val ley, leav ing the chil dren and te enagers stand ing be ‐hind. The girl a bout to be come a woman ran aft er them, not us ‐ing mag ic but rac ing on her bare feet.
The oth er, the boy, shook his head. “I-I can’t. I’m not ready.”Tejíko bowed her head. “Then protect the children. They’ll
need you.”“H-How?”“Shi mu sògo will lead.”“Papa!” Ki tòpi ran to ward Ru te jìmo, but stopped at the wi de ‐
ning pud dle of blood. “Papa? What hap pened?”“Boy,” snapped Te jíko, “turn a ro und!”“No, he’s my papa! Where’s Mama!? What happened to
Mama?”Rutejìmo opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come
out. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and he slumped forwardas he vomited on his grandmother’s dress. It came out blackand foul, hiss ing in the air.
“Ràchyo,” yelled Te jíko, “turn him a ro und!”The teenager ran over, tears on his face and grabbed Kitòpi.
The younger boy screamed and fought, but he was forced toturn a ro und.
Rutejìmo saw the others doing the same. He was dying, andeven in that moment of his greatest need, they couldn’t look athim.
Tejíko leaned into him. “I never thought it would come tothis, Great Shimusogo Rutejìmo. You have become something Inev er ex pect ed, and I’m so proud of you.”
Rutejìmo sobbed and covered his mouth, trying to stop hisinsides from pouring out. It bubbled out of his mouth, nose,
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and ears. His stom ach and in sides twist ed vi o lent ly as the po ‐ison reached for his heart.
“And I pray that we will have a home to re turn to. But some ‐where, sometime, I promise your vase will be Shimusògo’sfinest. I only wish there was so me one to tend to your—”
“Te jíko.”She lift ed her head at the ar mored man’s voice.Rutejìmo looked to the valley entrance, drawn by sudden
whis pers in his head.Piróma stood at the entrance, bare-footed and wearing one
of Rutejìmo’s white shirts. It hung over her shoulders, theloose cloth barely catching on her neck. The end of it draggedthrough the dust with only her toes vis i ble.
“Oh, Ta chìra,” whis pered Te jíko sharply.Rutejìmo gasped as his daughter stepped forward, bowing
her head as she walked along the gro und. The gath ered chil ‐dren stepped aside as she made her way to ward him.
There were blasts of air as the Shimusògo returned from thecaves. Seconds later, gasps filled the air as they grabbed thechildren and yanked them around once again. Tejíko let out asoft sob as she stood up. Tears splashed on the ground as sheturned away her self.
Ru te jìmo sobbed as he reached for Pi róma.Piróma didn’t stop at the puddle of blood. She padded
through it, spla shing as she came to his side and knelt.Ru te jìmo smiled and pulled her into a tight hug. “Great Mi ‐
funo Pi róma.”She clutched him tight. “I… I don’t know what to do. What
do I say now?” Her voice was a whis per, felt more than heard.Ru te jìmo closed his eyes as his vi sion fad ed. “Lis ten, just lis ‐
ten to me.”He held her tight as he began to whisper into her ear. He
didn’t have a Book of Ash to give her, but he could tell her a ‐
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bout the patterns of the sand, the feel of the desert, and thepath she had just stum bled on.
When he realized that he couldn’t feel her anymore, he kepton whispering everything he could, giving her the things he’dlearned and the rituals to follow. He didn’t know if she couldhear him, but he wasn’t going to give up until the last breathleft him. He kept spe a king un til there was only dark ness.
And then Great Mi funo Shi mu sogo Ru te jìmo was gone.
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About D. Moonfire
D. Moonfire is the remarkable intersection of a computer nerdand a scientist. He inherited a desire for learning, endlesscuriosity, and a talent for being a polymath from both of hisparents. Instead of focusing on a single genre, he writes storiesand novels in many different settings ranging from fantasy toscience fiction. He also throws in the occasional romance orforensics murder mystery to mix things up.
In addition to having a borderline unhealthy obsession withthe written word, he is also a developer who loves to code asmuch as he loves writing.
He lives near Cedar Rapids, Iowa with his wife, numerouspet computers, and a pair of highly mobile things of the malevariety.
You can see more work by D. Moonfire at his website. Hisstories and novels can be found on the Fedran website.
• https://d.moonfire.us/• https://fedran.com/
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Fedran
Fedran is a world caught on the cusp of two great ages.For centuries, the Crystal Age shaped society through the
exploration of magic. Every creature had the ability to affectthe world using talents and spells. The only limitation wasimagination, will, and the inescapable rules of resonance. Butas society grew more civilized, magic became less reliable andweaker.
When an unexpected epiphany seemingly breaks the lawsof resonance, everything changed. Artifacts no longerexploded when exposed to spells, but only if they werewrapped in cocoons of steel and brass. The humble fire runebecomes the fuel for new devices, ones powered by steam andpressure. These machines herald the birth of a new age, theIndustrial Age.
Now, the powers of the old age struggle against theonslaught of new technologies and an alien way ofapproaching magic. Either the world will adapt or it will bewashed away in the relentless march of innovation.
To explore the world of Fedran, check out https://fedran.com/. There you’ll find stories, novels, character write-ups and more.
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License
This book is distributed under a Creative CommonsAttribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 Internationallicense. More info can be found at https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/. This means:
You are free to:
• Share — copy and redistribute the material in anymedium or format
• Adapt — remix, transform, and build upon the material
The licensor cannot revoke these freedoms as long as youfollow the license terms.
Under the following terms:
• Attribution — You must give appropriate credit, providea link to the license, and indicate if changes were made.You may do so in any reasonable manner, but not in anyway that suggests the licensor endorses you or your use.
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• NonCommercial — You may not use the material forcommercial purposes.
• ShareAlike — If you remix, transform, or build upon thematerial, you must distribute your contributions underthe same license as the original.
No additional restrictions — You may not apply legal termsor technological measures that legally restrict others fromdoing anything the license permits.
Preferred Attribution
The preferred attribution for this novel is:
“Sand and Bone” by D. Moonfire is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
In the above attribution, use the following links:
• Sand and Bone: https://fedran.com/sand-and-bone/• D. Moonfire: https://d.moonfire.us/• CC BY-NC-SA 4.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/
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Patrons
This book is freely available on the Fedran website. It can bereformatted for any device, shared, and even reposted on otherwebsites (with attribution and a link to the original). Ifsomeone wants to write a fanfic or create art inspired by thebook, they are allowed to do so with relatively few limitations,which are set down by the license described in the previoussection.
• https://fedran.com/sand-and-bone/
It is hard to compete with “free” in this day and age.Releasing a book under a Creative Commons license is oneway of doing that, but there are still costs associated withproducing the results. There are hundreds of hours put intowriting it, hiring editors to go through it, and even hosting iton a website. As economics will tell you, there is no such thingas a free lunch. Most of the time, you pay for a book beforereading it. Sometimes you have a sample of a few chapters togive you a hint, other times just a blurb. Here, you get theentire piece. If you like it, please consider supporting mywriting.
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The cheapest way of helping is simply to talk about thebook. Post opinions on social networks, write a review and putit up on Amazon or Goodreads, or give a copy to someone whomight like it.
The second way of helping is to donate money. Even a dollarhelps. There are quite a few ways of doing this: you can buy aprint copy; the tip jar at Broken Typewriter Press; or evenconsider becoming a patron. Patronage provides advanceaccess to works-in-progress, votes on new stories and titles,and input into the world and my writing. You can read moreabout patrons at:
• https://broken.typewriter.press/dmoonfire/• https://fedran.com/patrons/
I can only hope that if you like it, you’ll help me write thenext one.
Thank you.
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Credits
There are a wide va ri ety of peo ple who were in volved with ma ‐king this book.
Al pha Re aders
• Bill H.• Ci u in• Tyree C.• Cindy M.• A i mee K.
Beta Re aders
• Chan dra ku mar M.• Lau ra W.• Mar ta B.• Mike K.
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Ed i tors
• Blurb Bitch• Ro nda Swol ley• Sha n non Ryan
Pa trons
• Ashish P.
Fam i ly
• Su san• Eli• Bruce
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Colophon
Each chapter of this book was written and edited using Atom,a Javascript-based editor. The files for the novel were managedin a Git repository on a private GitLab instance. Each chapterwas an individual file formatted using Markdown. Informationand working notes about the chapters were placed into aYAML header at the top of each chapter.
These individual chapters were combined together using aTypescript-based framework (mfgames-writing-js) whichproduces the EPUB, MOBI, and PDF (via WeasyPrint) versionsof the novel. These are built using GitLab’s ContinuousIntegration runners.
The cover was created using Inkscape. The color schemeuses eight colors of a monochromatic scale. These colors areshared among all of the Rutejìmo novels. Likewise, the“100-02” along the spine indicates this is the third publishedbook (“02”) with Rutejìmo as the main character (“100”).
The font used on the cover and interior is Corda in variousweights and styles.
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