Page 36 of Cloak of Night
The buzzing and blue light came faster this time, as did the transformation.
He’d hardly taken a breath, and he was a boy again.
Chapter Nineteen
Two days after they’d left Jade Forest, Sora and Broomstick arrived in Samara Village at the base of the mountain where her parents lived. It was on the way south toward Naimo Ice Caves, and Sora wanted to look through her mother’s research to see if there was anything in there about the Lake of Nightmares. What Liga said didn’t seem right—that Zomuri wouldn’t bother protecting his vault from mortals. They might not have god magic, but there was still treasure in there, and greed was a well-known human flaw. Retrieving the Dragon Prince’s soul was too important for Sora to skip a quick detour for whatever information she could find.
Sora smiled, though, as she led Broomstick into the village. Shops with colorful wooden doors lined the streets, the smell of morning frost filled the air, and birds chirped from the rooftops. Broomstick had never been here before—he always went home to his own family during school holidays—and Sora could hardly wait to show him aroundher cheerful little village and take him up to her house on the cliffs.
“Come this way,” she said, leading him toward the main square. “There’s always a rainbow of lanterns strung up this time of year. And musicians take turns playing in the plaza at all hours. Oh, and you have to see the huge fountain where Daemon, Hana, and I used to play during Autumn Festival breaks....”
Sora caught herself at the casual mention of Hana. It poked like a splinter beneath her skin.
But she didn’t want to feel sad or worried right now, not when Samara Village was home to so manygoodmemories. Sora squeezed her eyes shut to wring out the disquieting thoughts and focused back on the heartwarming ones.
“You know what else you’ll love?” she said to Broomstick, slapping a smile back on her face. “There’s a dumpling shop that makes all their wrappers by hand for the perfect texture. They’re usually not open this early, but I know the owner, so we might be able to pop in the back door to see what he’s cooking up today and steal a bite—”
Sora stopped short as they entered the square. Instead of brightly painted shop doors and rainbows of flags and kites flying from the eaves, the plaza was gray with smoke. Sparks from at least two dozen anvils and the steady pounding of metal—swords being forged—filled the air with an ominous rhythm.
“Wh-where’s my fountain?” Sora said.
Broomstick’s mouth set in a grim line. “Replaced by a weapons forge for the Dragon Prince.”
She spun around. The doors to the stores, once painted with lively pictures of what was sold inside, were all coveredin soot and ash. Sora ran to the back entrance of the dumpling shop and pounded on it.
“Mr. Zaki! Are you there? It’s Sora Teira. Please open up!”
The door opened a crack. Kind Mr. Zaki peered out, his wrinkles like a shar-pei’s, his hands covered in flour. He must have been in the middle of making dumpling wrappers.
“What do you want?” he spat.
Stunned at his meanness, Sora stuttered as she tried to speak. “I-it’s me. Um, Mina and Jiro Teira’s daughter.”
“Do you think my memory’s gone just because I’m old? I don’t have time for this.” He began to slam the door shut.
Sora stuck her foot in the small opening just in time, wincing at the impact.
What had happened to him, though? She’d never heard Mr. Zaki utter an unkind word before. He always had a smile ready for every customer, and at the end of each night, he put out leftover dumplings in a dish behind his store so the stray cats would have something to eat.
“Mr. Zaki,” she said carefully, “are you all right? Is something going on?” Sora lowered her voice to a whisper. “Has Prince Gin made things difficult for you with this weapons forge in the square?”
“How dare you speak about our sovereign with such disrespect!” Mr. Zaki’s eyes went wide with outrage. “Get out before I report you for being disloyal to the crown!” He grabbed a metal spatula and lunged toward Sora.
She gasped and jumped back.
He slammed the door shut.
Tears welled and threatened to spill over. Broomstick,who had witnessed everything, wrapped his arm around her.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Prince Gin couldn’t have already made it here to hypnotize everyone. He and the ryuu have been busy in the Imperial City.” They hurried out of the main square and to the outskirts of town, toward the mountain. “There’s something bigger than us going on here.”
“You can say that again,” Sora said weakly.
Broomstick steered Sora out of the village. “Come on, let’s get you to your parents. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you’re home.”
Sora didn’t say anything as they started up the winding switchbacks. It hadn’t sunk in before that Prince Gin’s war machine could already have reached Samara Village, even though she knew what his goals were.
Then something else dawned on Sora. If this inexplicable wretchedness could affect the people in Samara Village, then it could reach up the mountain, too.
