Years seemed to slip by, or were they merely days? It was difficult to tell from where she lay. Lin had no visual connection to the world around her. She was stranded in a grey abyss of passing voices and unfamiliar scents. After a while those things too vanished into delirium, though whether she had stopped listening to her surroundings, or if she had simply forgotten how, was unclear even to her. Everything, her scattered thoughts and all that she knew, had become encapsulated within a silent void. All that remained was her imagination, witnessing feeler tendrils that spread decay into the land like a virulent toxin and roaring columns of flame that smothered men and monsters in a swathe of cauterising light. However, those thoughts too were distorted, any attempt at their manifestation was akin to peering through the abyssal depths of the ocean.
When Lin once again opened her eyes, autumn had passed and the seasons had already ushered in the coming of winter. Unfortunately, her awakening was no sober experience. Lin found herself unable to see. There were shapes and forms and colours and light, but not a single one made any damned sense nor stood out from the others to any noticeable degree. Only in their arrangements could they be distinguished from the abstract haze, and even then only in broad strokes.
Definition returned with time. Every now and then someone would visit her, a woman in jade, and whenever she came by Lin’s head would feel as if insects were buzzing within her skull, tunnelling and ravaging incessantly. She wished more than once that her visitor would disappear and never return again.
Amid the confusion, there were still some concepts she understood. She knew that it must be winter because the cold that bit at her nose and ears was near-constant; she knew it was night because all that she could see was a fire’s dancing fingers in the darkness, and she knew that wherever they were now, they would have long abandoned before the dawn of the morrow. The lady in jade would come to take her away as she had so many times before. Lin could never remember why, nor where they were headed to, nor where they had been.
That woman’s face was so infuriatingly familiar. Those teal lips and glistening emerald eyes were enough to separate her from any other, and yet a connection still refused to form within Lin’s mind. Who are you? she thought to herself when their stares next met, but by her visitor’s reaction, the words hadn’t been confined to her mind. A deeper pain than anything Lin had ever known crept onto the woman’s face, so intense that she could feel her own chest seize guiltily in conjunction. I think I might have broken her heart.
Another sunrise shifted into another sunset, bringing another among countless nights on a path that led somewhere they never seemed to reach. It was with this next coming of darkness that Lin found herself determined to uncover the woman’s identity. Her vision had improved somewhat since waking the first time, she saw verdant plains shadowed by the approach of dusk and undulating foothills in the far distance that were adorned with crowns of dense forest. To their west flowed a wide river into a slight depression of the landscape. A vast lake resided calmly at its base.
The travellers had made camp in a field of flatland, beside one of many scarcely decorated trees. Two of the company she had never met before, a grown man and his armoured companion, spent some time building a fire before igniting a handful of dry grass with a lighter. There were two that she recognised, Fuu and another, they huddled against one another beside the tree’s bare trunk to spite the cold of the night. Finally, there was the lady in green, rooting through a canvas bag for paper-wrapped provisions that were handed out around the campfire. Lin could feel her mouth straining to recreate the syllables of her name. How many times had she seen those locks? This woman had raised her, after all.
“M-Mother,” Lin spluttered, “You’re my mother, aren’t you?” Heads swivelled at the sound of Lin’s voice, all except for the one that had been addressed. “Help me. Please.”
Sio turned then, wide-eyed with fine, furrowed brows. Hope stirred in her studying gaze, but there was something else that held it in check. Was it mere anxiety, or was it fear? She asked a question, it was obvious from the tone and she had spoken clearly enough, but even still, Lin couldn’t make sense of the words.
Sio had gone by the next day. There had been no goodbye, she had already vanished by the time Lin had risen from her slumber of misty dreams, leaving only the Fuu and the three strangers as her company. Lin was ignored for most of the morning by the others while they shared breakfast and packed their few bags of luggage with dirty clothes and whatever was left that they hadn’t eaten. It was only when they stood to leave that they even noticed she was awake and deigned to offer her any food. One of the group, a baggily-clothed man sporting a particularly striking dao and a top knot despite the cold weather, approached her with a dry dumpling that Lin quickly gobbled down. When she didn’t reply to his questions, he drew a character from Han’s ancient alphabet, and beside it wrote out the same word in nayakana characters. After he had finished, the man pointed at himself and read the character aloud.
“Toku. I’m Toku,” said the man, then turned his finger and pointed at Lin. “Your name is Lin.”
“I know my name,” Lin answered, surprising them both. Toku regarded her with raised brows and leaned back against the frosted trunk of a nearby tree.
“Well well, she can talk after all. How are you holding together, Miss Lin?”
The girl paused momentarily, taking the time to pick the correct words from the murky soup that was her mind.
“Getting better. Slowly,” she said steadily, “But confused. I can’t… think straight.”
“Easy now, take it easy. You’re doing great,” Toku replied with a warm smile, and Lin found herself reciprocating the expression. Reaching into one of the canvas bags, he pulled out a mask of white wood that had been carved and decorated with fine ink to distinguish certain features of the face.
“This is yours. Your mother told me that the residents of Hema had it made for you as thanks for ridding them of a certain problem.”
“Where... has she gone?” Lin asked, but with no real interest. She took the mask in her hands and examined the markings curiously.
Toku paused for a moment of consideration. “She travelled eastwards to meet with one of her contacts, someone named Shōren. I’m not entirely sure what it was about, and I’ve noticed she isn’t fond of sharing information with her supposed allies. I’d have sent one of my generals to escort her if they hadn’t already left for Solong and the Dragonsmouth. The best I could do was to give her half of my remaining forces,” he explained, pointing to a small camp at the foot of the hill they occupied. Three tents had been standing in a circle earlier that morning, though were now being collapsed and loaded onto the back of two supply carts. Between the five lookouts touting rifles and the ten soldiers that were either tending to their horses, preparing their equipment for the day’s travel or attempting to look busy, Toku had only a host of fifteen.
“You’ve no need to worry yourself about your mother, she’ll be back before long,” he finished with a reassuring wink.
Lin returned her attention to the mask, “Whose face was this carved for?”
“Your own.” She couldn’t see the resemblance, but trying to picture anything with her imagination felt like painting upon a canvas of water. If I can’t remember my own face, then perhaps at least the mask could do it for me, she thought to herself, and so slipped it on.
Winter’s snows had started to fall once more by the time the company reached the town that Toku described as Keisato, home of the Steep Lake. The older man draped a fur coat over Lin’s shoulders that still held the residual warmth of his body, for which she was deeply thankful. The miko robe she wore underneath was comfortable, but not nearly thick enough for a cold such as this. Dirt and rock was exposed amid the snow of the main road where it had been trodden underfoot by locals and visiting traders alike. Low walls surrounded the area and were joined with a high gate that stood open to all. Podiums had been erected at either side of the gate upon which were two women, both tied with thick ropes to the roughly-cut wood. Whatever remained of their clothes was tattered and torn, exposing their bruised, reddened bodies to the elements. Fresh blood from various gashes had been painted across their bare breasts to spell out a single word, ‘THIEF’. As the morbid curiosity wore away, Lin averted her eyes from the gruesome sight and looked to Toku, who in turn looked ahead, calm and unwavering. Neither Fuu nor her servant batted an eye as they passed the women. Only Chiaki seemed to have any reaction to the morbid exhibition, emitting a small gasp from beneath her helm upon their approach.
Lin shivered. “Why are we here, Toku?”
“To find a man named Mengu,” he replied without turning. “When Won’s Sky-Chosen usurped his predecessor, he failed to adhere to an ancient principle, the Dance of Rivers. In other words, he took the Verdant Cradle illegitimately, and many of the old guard turned against him when he declared himself their superior- including the man we’re looking for. Your mother intends for Sanzan to ally itself with the forces that those conspirators raised.”
“I… don’t know what that means.”
A reassuring half-smile was upon the man’s lips when he glanced over his shoulder back at her.
“He’s important. There’s been a large number of refugees moving through this area, fleeing the civil war in Won. We’re hoping that someone among them might have information on his whereabouts.”
Keisato’s outer fringes were well-populated, there were already rowdy gatherings loitering at the doors of taverns and textile workers battering carpets and clothes beneath the cover of outcropped roofs. The snow had done little to deter the market-goers that perused the few stalls and caravans that lined the town’s high street, selling anything and everything from sweet syrup-laced dango and other confectionery to succulent meats and souvenirs. There were salted mutton dishes of Won and fiercely hot seafood bowls of the volcanic Sen, even a selection of curried goat from the far isles of Jinha. Such recipes had been carried long and far by chefs of little renown to this vibrant town where they petitioned to make their names known to the masses. It was the first time Lin had ever seen a settlement at such a scale.
According to the map that Toku had allowed her a peek at before setting off, Keisato was situated in a vast, though mostly flat valley west of the Dragonsmouth, an estuary of the Clouded Sea that cut deeply into the western coast of Sen. They had left the territory of Han more than a week ago and delved into a land still smouldering from the indiscriminate flames of war. Keisato was mostly isolated from the fighting, and all thanks was owed to a single fact- the town’s main body was secluded, protected by the untameable waters at the centre of the Steep Lake. In truth, the outskirts were more of a well-established trading post than a place of residence.
Wayfaring townsmen fell away from the centre of the road at the sight of the oncoming horses. Wary glares followed the fifteen soldiers on their march along the high street that was hosting an otherwise vibrant bout of winter festivities. Dawdling behind, Lin had pestered Fuu and her servant trying to find out the reason behind the celebrations for several minutes before Chiaki finally grew impatient with their repeated questions and vague answers. A steel-plated hand wrapped Lin’s wrist and hoisted her from her dallying place with the Jishu before dragging her ahead to where Toku led the march. Unfazed by the woman’s meddling, Lin asked her question once again.
Toku gave a cynical laugh, “Of course you won’t get an answer from them. Jishu Jie and her manservant are children of Han; they don’t understand our ways, nor do they care to try.”
“I care to try,” Lin replied.
“And you are not a child of Han. You might have lived there for a time with your mother, but she is one of my countrymen. That makes you a citizen of Sen.” Toku motioned at the yatai stalls being prepared with fired grills and frying pans at either side of the street, “Though it’s traditionally known as the Joining Festival, it’s more common for people to simply call it the day of Midwinter. Most have already forgotten the reasoning behind the festivities.”
Lin raised a hand, “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You're a special case. I'll let you off this time,” he grinned. “The festival dates back nearly two hundred years to the end of the Warring States period. The largest of the states was called Iwanashi, they established themselves in the ancient capital, Zensei, where they steadily grew in strength until no other could stand against them. By deposing rival lords and instating weak heirs in their place, they kept their enemies weak and at odds with one another, until those same enemies lay siege to the great city under the banner of an allied army. Iwanashi and its capital were utterly destroyed. After that, the capital-”
“Was moved to Karyoku. The allied kingdoms sought peace through unification, forming the country of Sen,” Lin finished, surprising even herself. “They named it after their shared history during the Senma period. I remember… my mother taught me that.”
“Impressive, Lin, very impressive,” Toku boomed, shaking her encouragingly by the shoulder. “At this rate, your memory will be back in no time at all.”
“Thank you,” she smiled back.
Lin cast an envious eye over the affluent selection of seasonal clothing as they passed through. Among the heavy jumpers and coats were padded woollen dresses and fur-lined robes weaved from flax and linen. Her gaze fixed upon a striking white undershirt that paired with a black coat styled similarly to a haori, though thick with rabbit fur beneath. The combination of opposing colours had always been a favourite of hers, she recalled, but couldn’t remember a single opportunity in the past to pick her own clothing. She decided that she must have it, truly and absolutely.
“What do you think? It’s a fine choice, and an exquisite design,” remarked the vendor, leaning against the door frame of his small shop. Paper decorations weaved and swayed on their ceiling mountings with the heat of the shop’s electrical radiators. “I’d expect nothing less from the individual hiding behind that handsomely-crafted mask. Would you be kind enough to let me see beneath?”
He was a young, well presented man clad in a smart leather tunic and straight maroon trousers. A snake was coiled around his muscular neck, with pristine scales of cobalt blue and the dark stripes of a deadly viper. The trader couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than Lin, but despite his age had a full beard tidily kept with wax and a twisted ponytail wrapped with a maroon ribbon. His fingers were decorated with numerous rings, some forged of gold and others a fine silver.
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After a pause, Lin simply answered, “Sure.”
With the heat of her own breath no longer trapped inside the mask, the cold of the elements seemed even more intense than before. She winced delicately as a snowflake landed upon the tip of her nose.
The vendor’s hazel eyes seemed to spin in place, “An oath to the Mother in the mountains, you’re a jewel amongst the finest.”
“Are you making fun of me?” Lin frowned.
“No, no! Heavens, no,” he assured, clearing his throat before continuing, “Quickly moving on, how about a deal? I could half the price on those clothes for you if you’ll agree to accompany me to the In-Between Ravine,” the vendor flashed a grin.
“Okay, we’re headed there anyway.”
“Really?” he stared with his mouth agape, all bravado vanished in an instant. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Great. Great! I’m Genjo, by the way, Genjo Guan,” said the vendor excitedly, his face brighter than ever. “And you are?”
“My name… is…” the girl faltered, placing a hand on her temple. She could feel a hazy fog seeping into her mind and obscuring her thoughts. What is my name? She had told it to that man on the hill, but who was he? Words floated just out of reach, flittering further away at each grab she made for them. Who am I? Why am I here? The answers buried themselves beyond reach.
“Lin?” came Toku’s voice from behind, and the fog lifted in an instant.
“I’m Lin Ko,” she told Genjo matter-of-factly. He gave a perplexed noise in acknowledgement.
“Lin, are you feeling alright? You’re pale. You were muttering,” Toku said.
Lin shook her head, “I can’t remember.”
Sighing, Toku ruffled the top of her head, “Don’t think about it too hard, you’ll be better soon enough. Show your bravery.” The man’s palm was rough, but his touch gentle, Lin could feel the strength within his arm kept carefully in check. “Come now, we’ll be on our way as soon as I’ve had a chance to meet with the Daimyō and our supplies are restocked.”
Though she didn’t really understand, Lin nodded and began to follow as Toku started across the street toward Chiaki. The demon-faced helm upon her head had been observing silently all the while.
“Wait, it was Lin, right? Are you still coming with me to the Ravine?” Genjo called from behind. Lin felt a light tug on her arm. She turned and began to reply, but Toku intervened without hesitation, knocking away the vendor’s wrist and shoving him into the grey slush of the well-trodden ground. Genjo’s snake hastily uncoiled itself from around his neck and retreated into the warmth of his shop.
“Toku, what-?” Lin began, but froze as the man unsheathed his dao. Genjo quickly found himself facing the terrible bite of the sword’s blade. Eyes were immediately drawn toward the commotion.
“You are bold, I’ll allow you that much, thief,” Toku said with a wicked smirk.
“The almighty Sen warriors, always thinking with their fists before their brains. Why don’t you tell me what the problem is so we can clear up this misunderstanding?” Genjo smiled bitterly, propping himself up on one elbow.
“There is no misunderstanding. That ring doesn’t belong to you.”
“Sorry, you’ll have to be a little more specific. I’ve quite a collection of them, you see,” the trader replied, waving his fingers in front of his face. At least six rings adorned each hand.
Toku’s eyes were aflame. “That which means the most to me and the least to you. It’s carved from rosewood, not something that would fetch a high price, but you can be sure it’ll demand one from you.”
“Ah, so it's that one. It’s a crude piece, but there’s a certain beauty to it, isn’t there?” Genjo mused, raising the finger with the offending piece.
“So there is. Now hand it over.”
“As you wish, I don’t need this trouble at my business. You can have the ring, but I’d be on my way if I were you. The locals aren’t too fond of thieves lately.” Delicately, Genjo began to slide the wood ring from his little finger. It was a dark red band that had been roughly carved by hand with the pattern of a snake eating a cherry blossom.
“No, don’t take it off,” Toku asserted, wide-eyed with a white-hot anger.
“Then how-? What are you asking me to do?” Genjo shook his head in bemusement. His answer came with Toku’s next movement, a kick in the chest that knocked the vendor back into the slush. He tried to rise, but was forced down at once as Toku pinned his forearm beneath a snow-coated boot.
“Let me go! What the fuck are you doing?” Genjo yelled.
“Stealing food, even clothes, I could forgive as an act of desperation, but something like this? You’re a slave to petty greed and temptation.” Gripping the sword’s handle with one hand and its flat pommel with the other, he thrust the tip of the blade downwards. Lin couldn’t quite see where the strike landed from where she stood, though she could certainly hear Genjo’s scream. He writhed with dirtied clothes and a face contorted in pain in the puddle of half-melted snow. Toku flicked something small aside with the end of his sword, then bent over to retrieve it. Lin wanted to believe that she had been mistaken in the split second she had seen it, she tried to convince herself that he hadn’t taken in hand a bloodied piece of another person. When Toku returned with the wooden ring, however, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer. Genjo’s severed finger was tossed into the murky puddle beside him. The vendor moaned in agony, clutching at his bony stump as a stream of fresh blood ran down his hand.
“Come along, Lin. It wouldn’t be wise to remain here long.” Toku’s voice broke her out of her frozen state of shock; Lin realised a crowd of watchful spectators had gathered around them in the short time she had been staring. Their escort of soldiers had halted the cart behind them, their hands ready upon their weapons. Fuu and her servant stood among them in equal confusion. Growing impatient, Toku placed a hand on the small of Lin’s back and tried to escort her through the wall of observers.
“Lord Naga! Seven men, all equipped with polearms!” announced a woman’s voice. Lin had to look around for a moment to realise that it was Chiaki that had spoken. Mist puffed from the mouth of her demonic helm as she prepared herself to fight.
Toku cursed, sheathing his dao. “Stand down! We didn’t come here to orphan children, especially not your own.”
“As you say,” replied Chiaki. Her voice was flat, holding neither a hint of disappointment nor one of relief.
Seven warriors navigated brusquely through the circle of spectators with spears and halberds in hand, all of them clad in armour that was seemingly light, yet impressively regal. For what appeared to be common peacekeepers, there had been no expense spared on the dressing of these men and women, their armoured plates were forged from thin, curved steel with a blue lacquer, and all were fitted with mountings of silver and white gold through which the plates were connected. Four of the warriors fanned out from the others, their polearms pointed to deter the crowd from encroaching any further. The remaining three faced Toku, whose hands were now raised in a show of casual surrender.
“We have received a citizen’s report of a disturbance in the marketplace. Am I to understand that you’re our troublemaker?” demanded one of the warriors. There was a rugged break in his front teeth that sprayed spittle with every word that sounded an ’S’.
“You’re to understand that you’re on the verge of making a most terrible mistake. Those weapons are already pointed at the wrong man, think carefully before committing any further missteps,” Toku warned. Another of the warriors edged closer and cocked his head aggressively.
“Are you trying to die? Threats against Lord Inutani’s men will not be met with anything less than violence. Better hope you’re ready,” he smiled cruelly, then jabbed his naginata into Toku’s gut. Lin stifled a scream. The warrior’s expression shifted from sick satisfaction to anger and confusion as an unharmed Toku turned away with disinterest and rooted through his trouser pocket, producing a small handful of ball bearings. The warrior thrust with his polearm again, this time in unison with his two comrades. A deadly triangle of blades cut through the air toward Toku’s back. He shot Lin a sly wink.
None of the thrusts met their target. In a single, fluid motion, Toku struck the blades aside with a whirling kick and scattered a cloud of ball bearings among the warriors. He splayed his hand toward the middle of the three, and upon closing his fist, the unsuspecting man was peppered by a tightening sphere of metal. Ball bearings rammed against the warrior’s raiment as if trying to crush him. Toku swung his fist sideways and the metal balls mimicked his movements, barrelling the warrior into his comrade. The third of the attackers stepped back in shock, steeling himself into a low fighting stance.
“Range is irrelevant here,” Toku said, staring pointedly at the spear’s tip.
“Is that right? You might see things differently when we’ve opened a few extra holes in your body. Form up!” the warrior commanded. Those subduing the crowd turned on Toku, who soon found four extra spears pointed at his throat.
“Lower your weapons and bring me to the Daimyō, we need not continue this fight. There’s no merit in tarnishing your image as peacekeepers of this town.”
“That so?” challenged the broken-toothed warrior as he pushed himself from the ground with his spear. “It’s more than just your image that’ll be ruined. As I see it, there are seven of us against a single troublemaker. Just who do you think you are?”
“There’s the question I’ve been waiting for. All you needed to do was ask. As for the answer...” Toku paused dramatically with a wide smile, then clapped his hands firmly against one another. The combatants seemed to flicker for a moment, so slightly that Lin had assumed it was a straying shadow, but the realisation soon hit that it hadn’t been a trick of the light. The blades that had been pointed at Toku now faced the throats of their owners, a mere inch away from their vital arteries.
“...Tokugawa Naga, hero and traitor, or so I hear,” he declared, slightly bowing his head. A fearful awe was written across the warriors’ faces as they untangled themselves from their weapons.
“Emperor Naga!” spoke up a voice in the crowd. Others began to cry the same, and within moments Toku was swarmed by a horde of wholly enraptured admirers that pleaded for a glimpse of his Mandate, begging over and over until he yielded and loosened his white yukata. The crowd let loose astonished gasps and exclamations at the sight as Lin struggled to see past the dense wall of oglers. She couldn’t believe that the most powerful man in the entirety of Sen was standing before her- and he had offered her his coat. A new weight hung over her shoulders.
Splashes sounded from the ground behind her. Lin turned in time to see the muddied back of the trader, Genjo Guan, as he slinked away into his shop. Curiosity urged her through the door after him. All manner of ornaments and trinkets that could have served as a fine centrepiece in any household occupied the many shelves and cabinets inside. There were dragons adorned with burnished gold scales and polished stone lanterns of Han and Sen, as well as wood and marble carvings with the likeness of the First Sage of Jinha, even a small collection of miniature wooden riders of Won, about whom tales were told of ruthless tribes that stormed the flowing grassy plains and blooming jungles alike. An unshaded lightbulb hung amongst paper decorations from the ceiling that swayed with the shop’s heating, casting erratic shadows that sprinted across the room.
“Are you truly a thief?” Lin spoke up while perusing the shelves.
“Why are you still here?” Genjo replied, rooting through a drawer by the shop’s counter. He retrieved a linen spool and hurriedly began wrapping the material around his hand. There had been no cease in the blood flowing from the stump of his severed finger.
“You don’t look like a thief, and you didn’t speak to me as if you were a thief.”
“Have you ever met a criminal, Miss Lin? Those that make it obvious don’t tend to last long.”
“I know a murderer,” Lin retorted, though she couldn’t quite remember whom.
“Forget I asked. Despite what your friend wants to think, I’m not a thief. I’ve never stolen anything in my life. That’s the truth.”
“Then why did Toku claim that ring was stolen?”
“Because it was stolen. Everything in this room was taken from someone, somewhere, but by someone other than myself. I really am just a merchant.”
“But why trade in the misfortune of others? Don’t you feel any guilt for those that have lost their valuables?”
“Of course I do!” Genjo snapped, “But right now, I'm a foreigner in a country that my people once razed to the ground, and with the refugees of Mengu's rebellion filtering into this town day after day... There are people that depend on me, Lin, my need for money is greater than whatever guilt I might feel for my enemies.”
Lin turned quiet while she considered what the man had to say. However, the harder she tried to think, the harder it became for her to think, so eventually she stopped trying. She screeched as something slithered over her foot, and then screeched even louder when she realised that it had been a snake. Genjo rushed over and scooped the blue viper in his arms.
“Aobi,” he breathed in relief.
“Lin!” Toku’s voice boomed from the shop entrance. He stuck his head through the doorway and scanned the room quickly, his stiff body easing somewhat upon finding her. “Leave the thief be, we’re headed for the ravine. Those peacekeepers are going to be all over this place within minutes.” Marching over to the girl, he took her by the arm and escorted her back into the bustling crowds of the street and paid no attention as Genjo protested after him. After being reunited with the others of their travelling company, the next destination was to be the water’s edge of Keisato’s Steep Lake. Lin’s attention was caught by the same clothes that she had seen earlier, still lying on the stall outside of the accused shop. She battled with her conscience for a moment, then snatched the white undershirt and furred haori coat, as well as a pair of black trousers for good measure, tucking them under her arm. It isn’t stealing if they’re already stolen, Lin tried to convince herself. Will it really matter to anyone if they disappear now?
Keisato’s market street grew even denser toward the white beach at the port of the Steep Lake. Circles of Ryō passed from hand to hand for goods only the truly wealthy could hope to afford. Prices were not so accessible here, anglers offered monstrously sized fish that could've dwarfed sharks and looked almost as fearsome for close to five hundred circles, more than enough to buy a small house. Silk traders of Han peddled their goods for extortionate prices that even Lin had to shake her head in disbelief at.
A snow-spotted sea of smooth white stones separated the trading nexus from the open lake. Two jetties had been built from the shore to serve as a small port that stretched out into the water. Several fishing boats and ferries were docked at each with handymen offloading barrels and crates of cargo into the beachside warehouses. The Emperor ordered his soldiers to halt until his return. There was a short wait while Chiaki came to an agreement with one of the ferrymen, and then the five of them were on their way, sailing aboard a modest vessel. Even Lin, the shortest of the group, doubted she could comfortably lay across the boat’s width, it was no wider than a sampan or other such small fishing craft, though the length of the vessel compensated well enough. A tiled roof hung overhead, supported by wooden beams that rose from the boat’s hull. Lin caught a stare of disapproval from Toku upon setting the stolen clothes aside to make herself comfortable. She averted her gaze.
The Steep Lake seemed to span even greater a distance as they sailed across its surface. The low hills towards the northern end of the valley looked closer to mountains, and the swathes of forest that surmounted them were a tangle of thin, straggly fingers reaching for the fractured planet above. Thick masts protruded several metres over the water, each equipped with an electric lantern and connected to the last with long power lines that appeared to halt abruptly at the centre of the lake. Lin remembered a time when she had stared out over a cliff’s edge with her mother at pylons much the same that stood as industrial sentinels over a forest’s canopy. The memory was vivid in her mind, though isolated from further detail. How long has it been since then?
Whatever the answer, Lin soon ran out of time to contemplate it as the boat was taken in the grip of a powerful current toward the centre of the lake. She hadn’t been paying attention, and staring wide-eyed at the unfathomable sinkhole ahead, cursed her absentmindedness. Jagged fangs of porous rock jutted slightly above the water’s surface and crowned the edge of the deathly crater that threatened to gorge itself on the souls of the careless and foolish. Lodged into the reef below the ferry were the rotted remains of wooden planks ridden with barnacles and the pale, starlike shells of limpets that warned far too late of treacherous shallows. The hold of the downward current was unshakeable. Closer the ferry came to the mouth of the abyss, ever closer.