Page 123 of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

What was (lowly) wrong with her? To say it that way? So forceful? To makedemandsof Liyun? Surely the spirits would strike her down this instant for such an act!

“Yes, all right,” Liyun said absently. “As you wish, Chosen. Is that all?”

Yumi gaped. No lecture couched in questions? No glare of anger? Maybe everyonewassick in this town, and Liyun had caught it. She certainly appeared disoriented.

“I will…” Liyun said. “I will get you breakfast myself. Where did Hwanji and Chaeyung go? Yes, breakfast. I…”

She walked to the door, then stopped.

“Liyun?” Yumi asked.

“What is my duty?” the older woman asked.

“To guide the yoki-hijo.”

“Yes, yes,” Liyun said, then moved to step down into her clogs. Again she halted. “But that is not all, is it?” She moved her arm with a stiffness that made Yumi think it was pained. She reached into the pouch at her belt. And took out a folded piece of paper.

Liyun stared at it, then dropped it to the floor of the wagon and fled out the door in a rush.

What extraordinarily odd behavior. Yumi walked over to watch Liyun leave through a town that seemed completely empty. Not a soul to be seen. Even the crops were unattended.

Was the sicknessthat bad? No wonder Liyun was so worried. Yumi knelt to say a prayer to the spirits, then saw the piece of paper.

Painted paper.

She cocked her head, then spread it out.

Those two hands…

One was hers.

One was…his.

Memories assaulted her with the force of a collapsing tower of stones a hundred feet high.

Painter counted buildingnumbers in a frenzy, hoping to the depth of his core that he remembered correctly. Hion lines behind him cast his shadow, doubled, against the door as he reached the appropriate house.

He pounded on the door. Then pounded again, after not waiting long enough. He’d raised his fist to pound a third time when the door opened. Judging by the formal painter’s uniform—with a tighter coat than he wore, short in the front, and made of a vibrant blue—he’d come to the right place. Painter had made an educated guess as to where the Dreamwatch would be put up. They rated an entire house, and the Painter Department owned only a few of those.

“Stable nightmare,” Painter said between breaths. “I…ran…all the way…”

“Oh, you saw it, did you?” the man at the door said. Tall, he had such an incredible beard that it made sense he was bald—the hair on the top had been intimidated into hiding. His coat indicated he was a companion—not a Dreamwatch member himself, but one of those chosen by a full member to be on the team. The role that Painter’s friends had hoped to fill.

The companion opened the door with a yawn and waved Painter in. Painter had worried that the Dreamwatch would all be out scouring the city for the stable nightmare, but he appeared to be in luck. They were in, perhaps holding a strategy session or interviewing contacts.

Even with everything that was happening, Painter felt a thrill at being ushered into their headquarters. Even this little brush with their world was awe-inspiring—more so when he stepped into the main lounge of the building and saw not one, butthreefull Dreamwatch members. Dressed in black, marks of their stations sewn into their jackets. Painter couldn’t help staring.

They were playing table tennis. Two of them at least, a man and a woman. The third one lounged in a seat near the viewer, watchingSeasons of Regret. Various companions lounged around the room, doing what Painter imagined was official work. Reading. Keeping score for the ping-pong game. Um…taking naps…

Relaxing,Painter told himself,between bouts of hard work.He had explained to Yumi the value of that.

The woman at the game table glanced up as he entered. “Was that the food, Hikiri? I ordered the barbecued…” She frowned, noting Painter.

“He says he saw the stable nightmare,” Painter’s guide explained. “Ran all this way to tell us.”

“Oh,” she said, and seemed disappointed that he hadn’t brought her food. “Well, that’s good. Take his statement, Hikiri. Put a pin in the map. Do we have the map set up yet?”

“Getting to it,” said the companion who was reading a novel at the side of the room. “I’ve got it in my pack somewhere.”

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