BA3 - Chapter 30

Ena paced on her dais. “And he wanted to train you to assassinate Mr. Yamamotto?”

I stifled my yawn and reached for the teacup in front of me. Zigzags of green sprawled out in front of me. “Yes.”

“Tell me again how you escaped,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I threw hot water in his face to distract him, then ran to the hatch, opened it, and swam to the surface.” The lines below me didn’t fluctuate as I told the carefully crafted and condensed truth.

“Hot water from…”

“He used it to make tea.”

Her brow furrowed. I could see her eyes flickering to the spot at my feet, watching for inconsistencies in the floor, and listening for them in my story. I’d given her the same account over and over, skipping all the details of how I opened the hatch, or threw water in Hiro’s face. My body was beyond exhausted, but I kept my wits, ensuring there were no chinks in the chain of events.

Sun rays peeked through tiny slits of the blacked-out window behind Ena’s wall of screens. Breakfast had to be underway by now. I wondered if Hana worried for me.

There was a knock—more like a bang—at the door and I jumped. One of Ena’s muscly escorts pulled it open. The door flung wide, tossing Ena’s man to the ground. Woong-ji strode through, her metal foot clanking against the wood. She was followed closely by a visibly perturbed Sung-ku, which was well out of the ordinary.

Woong-ji stopped short of the spell infused floor. “You took my ward without informing me. That is against our agreement.”

Ena smiled curtly and sat on her elevated platform. “He was meandering the grounds. I simply invited him in for tea.”

“And have since held him for nearly four hours!” Woong-ji yelled with fists clenched.

Ena smiled still, but her eyes went wild with hate. “You will address me as Grandmaster and show the proper respect—”she cast her arm out like a curse and red munje shot from her finger. The magic curled around Woong-ji, dropping her to hands and knees.

All at once, the room tensed. I jumped to my feet and Sung-ki surged forward, a hand at his belt. Ena raised her other arm, pointing a deadly finger at Sung-ki. Ena’s guards assumed defensive stances, flanking their grandmaster.

“Stop,” Woong-ji hissed through clenched teeth.

I looked at the cruel grandmaster, heat boiling in my empty stomach. Even if I’d wanted to stop her, I had no energy, and no munje. I was as useless as a newborn pup, which only enraged me further.

Ena grinned, pleased with her own monstrous nature. She released the spell’s hold on Woong-ji. “Don’t make me teach you again.”

One of the guards moved to the wide-open door and slipped it closed. Had anyone been in the hall to notice this? I wouldn’t doubt Ko-nah could’ve been slinking around out there somewhere.

“Now that your instructors are here, we can discuss the plan,” Ena said, her voice light and friendly. “Please, come and sit.”

Woong-ji glowered up at her. “Yes, Grandmaster.”

“So,” she said, folding her hands neatly. “Tell me everything.”

“Are you sure you want to know everything, Grandmaster?” I asked, earning a stern glare from Woong-ji. I went on. “Stronger people than you can break your mind if something goes wrong, and see just how much you know.”

Ena’s lip curled back, but then she wrinkled her nose, and smirked. “Not so confident in your plan, then?”

Woong-ji tried to speak, but I cut her off. “I’m sure Ko-nah was confident in his plan last year, as was Hiro when he thought he could abduct me. You see where confidence got them.”

The words hung on the air with grim severity. I could tell by the way she watched me with narrowed eyes that Ena didn’t like the idea of failure. But, she liked the idea of being caught full-knowledge in the midst of a failure even less.

“We are taking the necessary precautions to safeguard you—and your benefactors—lives. We know what’s at stake,” Sung-ki said, carefully.

Woong-ji picked up the conversation, “We don’t want them compromised for future attempts. This is but one plan that may not work.”

Ena laughed a high-pitched cackle. “And you’re what, our fuhyō? This isn’t a game of Shōgi.” Her face went stern, and she looked at me.

“That’s Japanese chess,” Mae whispered.

I’d learned a little about chess from her, even played a few games in our head together. I wondered if the Japanese variant was similar, and if I could use this to persuade her. “You don’t want your king in a compromised position, do you?”

The same wild anger returned to her face with a smile. She descended her dais and stood much too close. “You’re bold—I commend that.” She looked me up and down, stewing on my words. “I thought it was a bad idea to get you involved, but perhaps he was right. Fine. I don’t need the details. But I trust we’re aligned on the goal?”

I couldn’t say yes because it was a lie. She’d see it easily, and this whole façade would be over. I looked to Woong-ji. Her body was tense, ready to fight—or run. There was no running from this for any of us.

“We’re going to end the reign of terror in Kokyu,” I said, oozing confidence I didn’t feel.

Ena’s eyebrow shot up to a point. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it. I trust you were able to get all your necessary tools?”

Whether it was sleep deprived madness, or that faked confidence, I didn’t know, but a plan was coming together. “Not yet. The port restrictions impinged important materials I needed. Access to the school’s spare machina—and indiscriminate use of it—will make up for that.” The lines below my feet wiggled gently, then calmed. It wasn’t a lie if I stuck to the right truth in my head, but it was still nerve wracking to say it.

She glanced down, then back at me. A silvery glimmer flashed in her eyes, revealing golden irises for a fraction of a second. It could’ve been a trick of my sleeplessness, because the next blink, her eyes were brown_TK[JH1] once more.

I shrugged. “Or I could proceed ahead with what I have, but it would hurt our chances of success.”

Another knock on the door roused a snarl from Ena and a jump from me.

“What is it?” she demanded loudly, her breath hot breath washing over my face.

I heard the door swing open and Ena’s face shifted from anger, to surprise, and finally settled on crooning subservience. “Mr. Yamamotto. To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Fear spiraled through my mind and squiggled the lines at my feet. I took a deep breath and turned, then took several steps back until I departed the spell writ floor. I bowed to him and he smiled, then patted me on the arm.

His hand lingered on my shoulder with a squeeze before he looked to Ena. “I wanted to come personally invite the students of Anbura and Bastion to join me at the Welcoming of Winter. I’ve reserved most of the Kobayashi Performance Hall just for the event.”

My heart raced, and sweat culminated in my palms, but I pulled on an excited smile. “Is that like the Winter Festival we have in Busa-nan?”

He chuckled. “Yes, but less commercial affair. Many of the performance halls around Kokyu will set the stage for their best dancers to give tribute to Jigu and the changing of the season in a ry display unlike any other. I heard some of the students from Silver Dragonfly will be performing with the Silken Geiko—Kokyu’s best school.”

“I know someone in that school,” I said with a grin, though fear coursed through me.

He nodded. “After the dance we could gather the performers and students at my private estate for a feast. I thought perhaps this would make up for the blunder at the luau…”

I pinched my brow in sympathy, keeping my breathing steady. “You’re not responsible for that, great-uncle_TK.”

Ena stepped forward and bowed to Dokun. “This is a wonderful offer. Of course, it is up to the Bastion instructors since this would be an interruption in their students’ learning schedule.”

Sung-ki nodded his head. “I think we would deprive our students of a valuable cultural experience if we declined.”

I looked to Woong-ji, still smiling. “Master?”

“Sung-ki is right, of course. No surprises this time, Mr. Yamamotto?” Woong-ji asked.

“Only if you’re planning them,” he fired back, the threat masked by a friendly chuckle.

Ena clapped. “Perfect. We eagerly await more information from you on the performance.” She leaned forward. “And we’re just getting all the other details squared away, now.”

Dokun looked at her curiously, but ignored the statement, returning his attention to me. He squeezed my shoulder again. “Maybe we can turn this trip around for you.”

“I’d like that very much,” I said, bowing low and escaping his grip. The cold spot left on my shoulder where is hand once was spread down my spine in a chill.

Dokun gave a gentle dip of his head to me in return. “Very good. I’ll send word soon.”

With that, he turned and left just as quickly as he came. The Enjiho closed the door behind him, and the room went quiet. Ena looked at me, taking two deliberately menacing steps forward.

She raised a brow, then nodded me off as she said, “Get to work.”

I bowed. “I’ll keep you apprised of critical, non-incriminating details. If certain people will be enjoying the Welcoming of Winter, this may be the right opportunity.”

“Don’t be hasty, Jiyong,” Woong-ji interjected with a nervous smile. “We will evaluate all opportunities and use the right one.”

Ena shooed at us without another word. Her guards corralled us to the door and saw us out. My heart pounded away in my chest as I put my shoes on in silence, Sung-ki and Woong-ji watching me carefully. It felt as though my skin were transparent the way they stared, and it made me sick.

I stood upright and looked to Sung-ki. “The others and I are feeling anxious after the attack, sir. It’s been difficult to get any useful rest. Perhaps you could make us your special sleep draught?”

Woong-ji’s lips were pressed in a thin, disapproving line. “What are you thinking?” she whispered, angrily.

“I’m thinking about our objective. I need good rest to perform,” I said flatly, heat rising in my chest. She made plans to have me abducted—to end our mission—without my knowledge, yet I plan to move our mission forward and she’s angry with me? The double standard was nearly unbearable.

Woong-ji took a deep breath, prepared to berate me I was sure, but Sung-ki laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ll have time to talk soon.”

Her gaze shifted between us, then she nodded. After another moment, she calmed, and bobbed her head again. “I have not been sleeping well, either. Perhaps we all need some of that draught.”

“It will be done,” Sung-ki replied.

She looked at me once more, then turned away. Her machina leg pattered louder than her foot as she went, but she didn’t limp. She’d finally grown used to the adjustments I’d made.

When she turned a corner and disappeared from sight, Sung-ki spoke to me, “I’m surprised that went so well. You’re truly becoming a capable young man.”

I couldn’t contain my scoff. “Wish my master thought the same.”

A smile flickered across his lips, then faded. “She does. She also cares whether or not you survive.”

“And that’s why you all lied?” I asked, feeling righteous on my little island of truth.

He turned me away from Ena’s doors and walked down the hall. “We all make mistakes, Jiyong. She may be your master, but she’s not perfect. A lesson for you…”

“Don’t become like my master, lesson learned,” I said angrily.

He sighed impatiently. “It seems your impudence grows with your competence. That’s not the lesson, but perhaps you’ll learn it in time, with failure.”

I scowled at him. “You want me to fail?”

“It is a powerful teacher.”

I stopped, angry. “It would be a death sentence, and who would learn from that?”

He seesawed his head. “Our successors, I suppose.” He smirked, then walked on. “Remember what I said about lies, Jiyong?”

“They get people killed.”

“They do, and not always the people you’re intending. Remember this when it comes time to share your plan.” He waved a hand through the dining hall entrance.

The scents of breakfast turned my stomach with a ravenous groan, and my anger disappeared. Several students looked up, but then returned to their meal—save a few. Hana smiled, but her eyebrows knitted with fear. Cho waved me over and Yuri looked, half a piece of egg-white hanging out of her mouth. She slurped it up and grinned.

I looked back to Sung-ki. “I’ll remember… you just remember that sleep draught.”

He chuckled. “It’s already prepared.”