Six Crimson Cranes: Chapters 7–13

"Demon!" Andahai cried, brandishing his sword at Raikama.

Their eyes rounded and deepened, and, last, six crimson crowns festooned the tops of their heads.

My teeth chattering from the cold, I ran, following the pallid rising sun above me, so small and white it looked nothing like the sun I was used to seeing at home.

Their work done, they faded into oblivion.

Languishing out here, despairing over what's happened, is exactly what Raikama wants. She wanted me to suffer, maybe even to die.

All they saw was my torn and muddied dress, my dirty feet, the odd bowl on my head. All they understood was that I could not speak. And so they spurned my silent entreaties and turned me away.

All they saw was my torn and muddied dress, my dirty feet, the odd bowl on my head. All they understood was that I could not speak. And so they spurned my silent entreaties and turned me away.

What Mrs. Dainan lacked in height she made up for in vociferous anger.

I only wondered what I’d done this time. Setting my broom to the side, I approached her, preparing myself for a public rebuke.

How I went from boat robber to tavern cook was a blur. Even more confounding, it was already midautumn; the browning maple trees outside the inn were a constant reminder of my broken promise.

I swallowed, guilt festering inside me.

It was what my brothers requested whenever they weren’t feeling well, and despite them being strong, sturdy boys who rarely fell ill, there were six of them. I took every bruised ego and scraped knee as an opportunity to hone Mama’s recipe.

Business swelled, and Mrs. Dainan stopped lecturing me about squandering her ingredients.

There had been more men like this soldier at Sparrow Inn lately. Drunk and belligerent, traveling through Tianyi Village on their way to defend the North.

Curled up on a straw pallet, with Kiki in the crook of my arm, I dreamt of my brothers.

The trees in our garden had turned a burnished shade of yellow, their leaves singed with a blush of red.

My father made a sad little laugh. “But their eyes...they almost look human. So doleful. Almost as if I’ve seen them before...”

But my mind was sharper than it’d ever been, as if it had finally pierced the veil of fear Raikama had cast over me, and whittled my sorrow into steel-hard mettle.

Yesterday’s nightmare had bolstered my courage.

Her rebuke was cut off by the sound of hooves cantering to a stop.

Seconds later, her back curved into a deep bow, her arms fluttering and her voice rising to an obsequious pitch I didn’t know she was capable of.

The contents of the knapsack confirmed my judgment of his character: there was a gourd for water, a copper tinderbox, a bundle of muslin with a fine bone needle and a knot of thread, extra woolen socks, and an excessive number of books.

Unlike Kiata, whose mainland and many islands had been united for millennia, A’landi was an enormous country divided into dozens of contentious states.

Its recipe was a secret among only a handful of the most skilled assassins, highly prized because even its smell was noxious—putting its victim into a deep sleep.

Thinking back, it was no shock that a snake like Raikama had a talent for discerning poisons.

Consternation—and the slightest glimmer of fear—lingered in his narrowed eyes.

Startled, I scrutinized the lord as he sheathed his sword.

Emblazoned on his scabbard was a rabbit on a mountain, surrounded by five plum blossoms—and a white full moon.

Even though I had never paid attention to my heraldry lessons, I knew that one. It was the Bushian family crest.

I was sure Takkan would punish his cousin for his impertinence.

Wistfulness touched his voice. “It is beautiful...the most beautiful place in Kiata when it snows.”

I swore my tutors had been bribed to tell me daily of its magnificence. How Iro was surrounded by mountains and the Baiyun River—an oasis in the dismal North. All useless attempts to mollify me about my betrothal.

Surprise, then mirth, touched the sentinel’s warm eyes.

“You’re a brazen one. All right, keep it. But stay off the roads at night—bandits grow bold, with many of the sentinels away looking for the royal children.”

He had to think me addle-brained for sailing away on the cusp of winter, but he taught me how to cut the sea with my oars, how to read the wind to navigate south, and how to throw a net to catch fish.

He was a brute, just as I’d pictured him, and I finally felt vindicated for hating him all these years.

They dazzled my eyes with their raiments of emerald and gold and ruby and stretched as far as I could see, seemingly without end.

He gestured at the paltry supplies in the back of the cave—a sack of bruised oranges, a smattering of chestnuts, and a set of broken clay cups.

He gestured at the paltry supplies in the back of the cave—a sack of bruised oranges, a smattering of chestnuts, and a set of broken clay cups.

My brothers had created a small but practical living space in the cave: a hearth in the center lined with stones—Wandei’s work, I guessed—and a meager stash of firewood.