Page 78 of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

She closed her eyes and stepped forward, not thinking about the cloth. Doing that, she walked straight through. When she opened her eyes, she found herself inside the tent. And wow, the scholars traveled instyle. Thick rugs on the floor. Fine pillows and cushions for sitting on.A counter with various liquors, and those serving boys—likely scholars in training—to wait upon their needs.

The lavish display was interrupted by the enormous metal machine at the center, its valves and bars open and gaping, like a heart cut from a beast with the arteries severed.

The lead scholar had a pinched face and almost pointed head—like a blunt pencil. He paced back and forth, looking less intimidating without his hat. The bowl cut of hair didn’t help. It was the sort of style you ended up with when you assumed that because you’d studied literature and engineering, you knew your hairdresser’s job better than they did.

“We should try the vacuum pumps again,” the scholar was saying as he paced.

“It’s not the vacuum pumps,” said a scholar who sat on the floor beside the machine, tinkering with it. “It’s the power source, Gyundok-nimi.”

“We never had a problem with the power source for the father machine,” the lead scholar snapped.

“Pardon, Gyundok-nimi,” another scholar said, lounging in pillows with a half-eaten fruit, “but weabsolutelyhave had problems with the father machine’s power.”

“The Incident?” Gyundok said—and Yumi could sense the capital letter there. “Hasn’t been an issue for years.”

The three other scholars shared a glance.

“Fine,” Gyundok said, his hands going to his hips. “If it’s the power source, you prime it, Sunjun. This machine is small. It will be safe.”

Sunjun—the scholar working on the machine—raised his hands and backed away from it. “Not a chance.”

“We need a spirit,” said the man lounging in the pillows.

“Is that all, Honam?” the leader said, spinning toward him. “Ourmachine that draws spirits needs a spirit to start, you say. What ausefulobservation.”

“Maybe that yoki-hijo will call one,” Honam said, taking a bite of his fruit. “We could grab it.”

“Have youseenher stacks?” said Sunjun. “The only thing she’ll be summoning in this town is an apology.”

“You try starting it, Honam,” the leader said. “Once it’s primed, it will keep itself going. Should be enough energy in this town for that. As long as we don’t turn it off, we’ll be good.”

“We don’t even know that it will work for the severing,” Sunjun said. “Maybe we should rethink this entire fiasco.”

“If it doesn’t work,” the lead scholar said, “then we’ll try something else. Butfirstwe follow my plan.” He peeked out the parted front of the tent, toward the town. “This is dangerous, what’s happening here. Honam, prime the machine.”

“No,” Honam said. “Not a chance.”

“I order you—”

“I’ll do it.” The fourth scholar spoke from near the wall, where he stood partially in shadows. Yumi squinted at him, making out a man with a full beard on his chin but a mustache that was failing to keep its end of the bargain. He stepped forward, causing Sunjun to scramble farther back from the machine.

“It’s a small machine,” the fourth scholar said. “It will be fine. Just needs a little priming.”

Yumi stepped forward, trying to get into a better position to watch as this last unnamed scholar knelt down in front of the machine and opened a panel. She had to pick her way between the others and lean in close—getting right to the edge of her tether to Painter—so she couldobserve as the scholar hesitated, then pressed his hand to a plate at the heart of the machine.

There, she was absolutely certain, two lines of light sprang into existence. One was a vibrant magenta. The other a liquid azure.

Hion lines.

She gasped, then clamped her mouth shut.Thenfelt immediately foolish. They couldn’t hear her. So she leaned forward farther, inches from the man, to make certain she was seeing what she thought she was. Yes, thosewerehion lines. She couldn’t mistake the distinctive colors. They connected the scholar’s hand to the—

Another pair formed from her face, leading to the plate.

She yelped, jerking back. Lights went up along the machine’s sides, and the scholar who had been kneeling relaxed visibly, pulling his hand away and wiping it on his trousers. The lead scholar and the lounging one cheered in excitement.

The one who had been sitting nearby though—Sunjun, the one with grease on his hands from working on the thing—ignored the achievement. He wasn’t looking at the lights or his companions. No, Sunjun was looking right at Yumi.

She felt a sudden panic and scrambled away, grabbing the spirit of a blanket and holding it up in front of her. If they saw—

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