The Lotus War - Kinslayer Part 51

"Wh.o.r.esons." b.l.o.o.d.y drool spilled over his lips, gathering below his chin to drip onto the floor. "Wh.o.r.esons, the both of you."

Seimi stepped into the dim light, licking the yellowed rubble lodged in his gums. The yakuza's face was calm, spotted with stray flecks of blood.

"How did you know where the money was being taken?" His tone was that of a man asking for the daily specials, or directions to the sky-docks. "How did you know where we were moving it?"

"Your father told me." A ragged, bubbling gasp. "When he was done swallowing."

Seimi grinned, sipped a cup of red sake with rock-steady hands. Hida stood by the doorway, arms folded, scratching at one cauliflower ear. A lukewarm bottle of liquor sat on a table beside a collection of tools; a hammer, pliers, tin snips, blades of varying lengths. A stained rag. A handful of bamboo slivers. Five b.l.o.o.d.y toenails.

The boy was naked save for his trousers, wrists bound with thick rope, suspended from a hook in the ceiling just long enough for his toes to touch concrete. His ankles were chained to the floor, a lonely globe casting a circle of pale light on bloodstained ground.

Seimi hefted the hammer. Its claw head was dull, rusted iron, the wooden handle grubby and unfinished. He patted his palm with the business end and sat crossed-legged in front of the boy, smiling up into swollen eyes.

"Where's your friend? The one with the iron-thrower?"

"Your mother's house."

"What's his name?"

"She's never asked. She doesn't talk with her mouth full."

Seimi looked over his shoulder and smiled at Hida, shook his head. He grasped the boy's ankle with his left hand, lifted the hammer with his right. The boy curled his toes up instinctively, breath coming quicker. Teeth gritted. Muscles taut. Sweat rolling through the bloodstains and glazing his lips a watery red.

Seimi slammed the hammer down on his smallest toe.

The sharp crack of metal on flesh, the wet scrunch of splintering bone. Seimi felt the impact through the floor, heard the boy scream through clenched teeth. He closed his eyes, listened to the wail trail off into silence as the boy's breath ran out, the sharp intake of oxygen into empty lungs, the whimper bubbling over split lips.

"How did you know where the money was being taken?" He lifted the hammer again, stared up into glistening tears. "How did you know where we were moving it?"

"You cowards. Miserable, gutless-"

The hammer fell again. The scream became a roar, the openmouthed howl of a wounded animal. The boy thrashed against the ropes, sawing skin raw, head flailing, muscles stretched, tendons standing out sharp in his throat. His face was red, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I'm g-gonna kill you." Teeth clenched. Spittle flying. "f.u.c.k you!"

Seimi's voice was heavy as a brick in a wriggling burlap bag, cold as the river water it was tossed into.

"No, little boy. Those nights are done. It's us f.u.c.king you now."

He brought the hammer down.

Again.

And again.

When Seimi stood and picked up the pliers, he saw Hida turn and leave the room without a sound. He had to stop halfway through his routine to get more sake. There were threats and pleas, showers of b.l.o.o.d.y spit, brief periods of unconsciousness ended with handfuls of salt. The smell of burning hair. The sound of snipping. And clipping. And screams. Big and bright and beautiful.

But finally, the boy arrived.

That blessed place, where the absence of new pain is the greatest of all gifts. And the man who stays his hand, even for a heartbeat, becomes the G.o.d at the heart of your world.

And at last, in that wonderful, shining moment, he sang.

45.

TEN THOUSAND YEARS.

Lord Hiro stood at the head of the table, staring down the length of polished oak to his legion of guests. The feasting hall was decked in scarlet silk, paper blooms, bright lanterns hanging from the rafters, talismans of joy and fortune on the walls. A small army of serving girls moved among the celebrants, soft pink kimonos, arms decked with platters of steaming sake and real fruit juices, filling every gla.s.s. The Phoenix retinue knelt at Hiro's right, a swathe of sunburnt yellow and flameburst orange, Daimyo Shin and Shou sitting so close they touched. The Dragons were arrayed at his left, decked in bright azure and silvered iron, Daimyo Haruka looking dour and out of sorts.

"Your fiancee will not be joining us for the feast, Hiro-san?" the old Dragon asked.

Hiro glanced at the empty cushion beside him. He tried to smile, felt the ashes caked on his face crack and flake away. His voice was toneless. Formless.

"We beg your pardon, honorable Haruka-san. My beloved Aisha-chan is unnerved by the thought of the ceremony tomorrow, and bids me ask your indulgence. A bride can be forgiven her anxieties on the eve of her wedding, surely."

Haruka looked to his own wife, nodded slowly. "As you say. I recall the eve of my own betrothal. It is no small thing, to be bound to another for the rest of one's life."

Lord Shou glanced at Hiro, the death-clad legion of Iron Samurai looming behind him.

"No matter how short that life may prove..." he muttered.

Hiro raised his cup, tapped one finger on the lip to call for silence. He looked to Second Bloom Kensai and his Lotusman retinue, seated at the far end of the table with empty plates and empty gla.s.ses, swathed in chi exhaust. The n.o.bles of his own court a.s.sembled in all their finery, golden breather masks fashioned like tiger maws, pale, powdered faces and silk of b.l.o.o.d.y red. All of it so gaudy. So hollow and meaningless. He noted two empty cushions, consternation creasing his brow as he realized who was missing.

Where is Ichizo?

"Esteemed guests," he began, speaking as if by rote. Metal in his mouth. "Brothers of the Lotus Guild. n.o.ble Daimyo and trusted friends. I am humbled and honored to receive you on this, the eve of my wedding, and bid you welcome to the Tiger's palace."

where once she lay in my arms she who laid me low she "The thought of vengeance ever hangs in my mind, fills me with a thirst no cup can slake. The loss of this court's most favored son hangs heavy on my shoulders, even in this time of..." he swallowed, ash-dry "... joy. And bound by oaths, we gather tonight, our mourning black shed but weeks ago. Though were my Lord Yoritomo-no-miya here-"

The ground rumbled, a low, furious vibration beneath his feet, setting the tableware clinking, the lanterns in the rafters swaying. Hiro frowned, voice faltering, thinking another accursed earthquake had struck at this, of all hours. One of the guests gasped, eyes to the hall's high beach-gla.s.s windows. Following her gaze, Hiro looked up into a night sky smeared with the color of flame. Uneasy murmurs rippled among the attendees, serving girls glancing to each other with fearful eyes, stares turning to him at the table's head. Second Bloom Kensai stood, swift despite his bulk, his skin hissing. Bra.s.s fingers danced across the mechabacus on his chest, like a prodigy upon a shamisen's strings.

"Great Lord. Kigen city is under attack by Kage rebels."

Gasps and murmurs among the guests. A thrill of adrenaline in his gut. Iron hand snaking to the hilt of his chainkatana.

"Yukiko?"

"There is no sign of the Impure one, great Lord. Reports indicate multiple groups, striking with explosives through Docktown and Downside."

"Honorless dogs," Daimyo Haruka spat. "They dare break peace on a night such as this?"

The Dragon clanlord stood swiftly, his retinue of Iron Samurai gathered about him. The Phoenix Daimyo stood with more languor, moving with that eerie synchronicity, narrowed eyes above ornate breather fans. Their retinue gathered and clung to them like painted leeches.

"Steel yourselves," Hiro said, his voice rising above the growing clamor. "This attack is a blessing. That these fools have dared enter Kigen on a night when my brother Daimyo are gathered with their hosts can be viewed as no less than providence. Lord Izanagi has surely blessed these celebrations and our vengeance. The fish have brought themselves to our nets." He drew his chainkatana, arced the motor, vibration traveling up the iron in his arm and into his flesh. "We need only gather them in."

Haruka drew his chaindaish, serrated teeth whirring and snarling. The Dragon Samurai about him did the same, the screech and growl of motors filling the air.

"We will defend First Daughter's city with our lives," Haruka said. "This I vow."

The Phoenix clanlords turned to Hiro.

"We will return to the Floating Palace," Shou said. "Coordinate the a.s.sault from the sky, set our corvettes to the task of routing these rebels from their dens."

"We place our personal retinue at your service, of course, Daimyo," said Shin.

Hiro glanced at the ceremonial swords in the Phoenix lords' obi, the painted lips and powdered cheeks, the soft hands with manicured nails, utterly bereft of sword-grip calluses.

"An excellent notion. My thanks, honorable Daimyo."

He turned to his Shikabane captain. "Muster the Dead. Every man is to be ready to march in five minutes. Kensai." He turned to the Second Bloom. "Gather your Purifiers, any Lotusmen you can spare. We will purge these lice with purifying flame."

"It shall be done." Kensai bowed. "Shgun."

All in the hall took note of the t.i.tle. The three other clanlords shared knowing glances.

Hiro licked his lips, tasted ashes. "You are charged to kill any Kage you find on sight. If Yoritomo-no-miya's a.s.sa.s.sin dares show her face, I will offer substantial reward to any man who brings me her thunder tiger's head. But the girl herself is mine. Any man who kills that Impure wh.o.r.e robs me of my vengeance, and he shall know vengeance in kind. Is that understood?"

"Hai!" A cry from the legion of Samurai around the room, underscored by the revving of chainblade motors, the clank and hiss of -yoroi.

"Draw your swords then, brothers. Draw your swords and march with me. Tonight, we restore our honor, and strike a blow that will live in the histories for ten thousand years. Tonight, we end this rebellion once and for all."

"Banzai!" they cried. "Banzai!"

Hiro nodded.

"We move."

46.

ONE HUNDRED DEGREES.

A blossom of orange flame unfurled in the nighttime hush, a tiny sun daubing the chapterhouse walls in colors of the distant dawn. Long shadows stretched out from the sudden flare, dancing across splintered cobbles as the fire took hold. The night above was already choked and black-no winking stars, no weeping moon. Great billowing curtains of smoke rushed up to kiss the dark; a sweating, autumn evening overhung with the threat of storms.

The flames rose from burning barrels, stacked high on a wooden wagon outside the chapterhouse gates. Desiccated wood crackled amongst tongues of bright heat, sparks spiraling upward like long-gone fireflies. A siren screamed inside the chapterhouse; a brittle, metallic wail rising over the fire's roar. A knot of blacklung beggars across the street curled down in their filthy rags and winced at the volume.

The great metal doors split apart with a squeal of dry hinges, just wide enough to allow four Guildsmen to march out into the firelight. Heat flickered across their atmos-suits; burnished bra.s.s dipped in flickering ochre. Insectoid helms, biomechanical lines of cold metal and snaking pipes, large tanks mounted on their backs. Three Shatei and a Kyodai captain, all wearing the white tabards of the Purifier Sect.

The Kyodai's eyes glowed blood-red as it scanned the street. The Shatei stepped forward, holding their hands toward the fire as if to warm them. Gouts of frothing white foam burst from their outstretched palms, engulfing the awning, wagon and broken barrels. Light and heat suffocated in the flood, leaving only charred wooden skeletons spattered in hissing foam, trailing clouds of reluctant smoke in the ember light.

The Shatei examined the wreckage under the frightened stares of the beggar-folk across the way. A few of the bolder wretches crept forward, watching the Purifiers stomp the last sparks beneath their boots. The Kyodai spoke, its voice a wasp-hive hymn.

"Accelerant?"

A Shatei knelt amidst the charcoal, looked up at its big brother. "Chi."

The Kyodai clicked several beads across the mechabacus on its chest. It stared around the street, luminous, b.l.o.o.d.y eyes coming to rest on the beggars creeping closer. They were swathed head to foot in dirty rags, black fingernails, scabbed knuckles. The closest one was a giant, only a few feet away and shuffling forward, limping slightly.

"Stay back, citizen." Fire flared at the Purifier's wrist. "This is Guild-"

The man hurled a clay bottle, filled with thick, sloshing red. It smashed on the Purifier's chest, coating its atmos-suit, and with a dull whump, burst into flame as it touched the fire burning at its wrist. The other beggars hurled more bottles, clay smashing on the stone at the Guildsmens' feet, across their suits, painting them with gleaming scarlet. A thunderous rush of heat, roaring around the four Guildsmen and withering the s.p.a.ces between. The stench of burning chi rose amidst the sound of rasping curses, the Guildsmen staggering away and turning on each other with their foam, dousing the flames with gouts of hissing white.

A motor-rickshaw tore down the street, wheels screeching. It collided with two Purifiers, crushed one against the chapterhouse wall in a bright burst of sparks. The chi tank at the Guildsman's back split and exploded, the 'shaw's driver rolling out of the cabin just as the vehicle's snout burst into flame.

The beggars threw aside their black rags and drew weapons from within the folds, bearing down on the two remaining Guildsmen. The Kyodai raised its hand, skin still black and smoking, screeching a warning as the big man rushed it with his war club raised high.

Akihito pictured Kasumi lying in a puddle of blood on the floor of Kigen jail. He pictured Masaru's name etched upon a hundred spirit tablets around the Burning Stones. He pictured Yoritomo's face atop the burnished bra.s.s shoulders.

The Purifier's helm split at the seams, one glowing red eye spinning off into the dark, a leaden whungggggg ringing out as the tetsubo connected. Wet crunching. A metallic rasp. The Purifier fell back, hands to its shattered face. Metal hit stone and it cried out, the sound all too human; a moan of fear and pain.

"No." It held up its hand. "Don't, wait-"

The tetsubo crashed down on the Kyodai's head, the crack of metal on metal ringing down the street. Akihito hefted the club, bringing it down onto the Guildsman's helm again. And again. And again. Until the faceplate buckled and the light in its eye cracked and died and thick red bubbled between the broken seams. The Kyodai twitched once and was still.

"Come on!"

The other Kage had dispatched the remaining Purifiers, the fuses in the back of the still-burning motor-rickshaw were already lit. They grabbed Akihito's arm and tugged the big man away from his kill. Heavy metal footsteps could be heard beneath the wailing siren within the chapterhouse; a mult.i.tude approaching fast. The street was strewn with broken metal bodies, lit by the rickshaw fire, black, acrid smoke burning his throat and scratching at his eyes.

He nodded. Smiled.

The Kage disappeared amongst the shadows.

An explosion tore across Downside, a bright bloom of flame lighting the clouds over Chapterhouse Kigen, smoke rushing skyward like a new bride into the arms of her groom. Daichi looked at the firelight sky, counting beneath his breath, one, two, three, and ah, there it went. A second explosion to the east, then a third; three dry-docked sky-ships bursting into flame and sinking slowly onto Spire Row, draping the boardwalk with burning skeletons. The Docktown fuel depot went up ten seconds later, and it seemed for a moment the sun had risen early, great feathered hands of fire stretching forth over the warehouse district, hard shadows and roiling smoke, screams of fear and pain, the reverb settling inside his bones. The night was filled with the drone of sky-ship propellers, Phoenix corvettes buzzing and slicing overhead, the belly of the Floating Palace lit with the lurid glow of Kigen's growing pyre.

Daichi put one hand to his mouth and coughed. Licked his teeth and spat. Hand pressed to tortured ribs, more bruise than skin beneath the bandages. Every breath was fire. Every word a trial. His speech to the Kage had taken almost everything he had.

They were settled on the upper floor of a town house with a perfect view of the Shgun's palace, waiting for the tigers to leave their den. Ayane knelt at a small table, head tilted, listening to the chatter of the mechabacus in her head. The device hung around her neck, plugged into the jack at her collarbone, the beads chittering back and forth across her breast. Dirt still clung in the crevices, fingerprints of rust on the faceplate from its slumber beneath damp earth, a slight scratch from the shovel used to dig it free. She would lean close to the boy beside her, lips brushing his ear, and Kin would relay the incoming data about troop movements, numbers, disposition to the Kage in the field via the shortwave transmitter on the table before him. There was intimacy to the pair, kneeling so close they almost touched-a kind of symbiosis Daichi found unsettling.

He could hear bells ringing, heavy feet, shouted orders. A cadre of Guild mercenaries spilled from the chapterhouse and stormed east over the Shiroi bridge, dozens more heading south to bolster the refinery defenses. Firelight gleamed on their night-filter goggles and bulbous helms, like a hundred scarab beetles ready for war. Bushimen were taking position on the bridges, motor-rickshaws roaring through the streets, Iron Samurai mustering in the palace grounds. The fire spread across Docktown as the timber boardwalk caught and burned, cutting off access to most of the dry-docked Tiger fleet. Daichi smiled up at the black storm clouds overhead and whispered a prayer to Susano-, begging the Storm G.o.d to show his blessing to Lord Hiro's wedding and withhold the rain for just one more day.

"It's incredible," Isao whispered.

The boy stood near the window, face lit with the flames, watching in awe as Kigen's peaceful facade began to blacken and curl.

"The music of chaos," Daichi said. "From a distance, it is beautiful. But consider for a moment how it would appear to an ordinary man down there in the street. Drenched in the sound of flame. Of fear. For yourself and the ones you love."