The one-eared boy grabbed a fistful of earth and sprayed Inspector Han, blinding him. Then he scrambled for a fallen tree branch splintered by lightning. Grabbing it, he charged as the inspector struggled to clear his eyes. Rather than swing in any direction, the inspector pulled his sword behind him, pointing the tip to the ground, leaving himself defenseless.
Oh gods, what had I done? I pulled the club free from my sash belt and raced forward.
In that moment, a high-pitched whistle pierced the sky and sent a rustling throughout the forest. Men stepped from behind trees, faces obscured by scarves, swinging planks and knives. They were so bony and burnt they looked more like starved farmers than fierce bandits. One man gestured and yelled, “Tie them up!”
The circle of eight rogues swept in upon us like a fierce wave about to suck a vessel under.
Hands grabbed for me, but I dove and slid across the ground, then leapt over squirming bodies. The one-eared boy moved fast. He raised his wooden weapon, ready to split it over the inspector’s head—
Steel flashed white in the sunlight, impossibly fast. Blood splashed out as though the boy’s stomach had burst. Bit by bit he fell; his hand dropped, the plank thudded to the dirt, his knees buckled, head craning until he stared up at Inspector Han. A choke, a gurgle, a single stream of blood slid down the side of his lips.
All fell still. Every man among the bandits flinched as the blade was pulled out. Life sprayed crimson onto the inspector’s robe as Missing Ear folded to the ground.
Vomit lurched to my throat. I tore my gaze away from the dead boy and looked at the inspector again, and he was changed. He seemed unable to drag his gaze away from his bloody hands, and as though the forest floor were tilting beneath his feet, he stumbled. Sweat glistened on his temple.
Seeing Ryun sprinting to his master, I grabbed ahold of myself and ran. I kicked one bandit between his legs, and as he buckled forward, I raised my leg high and struck down with my heel. His head slammed to the ground as Ryun punched and rolled and grabbed hair. Inspector Han swung his sword at the bandits as a drunkard might swing a torch to frighten off a tiger, no direction or balance to his movements.
A large hand suddenly gripped my arm, and a coldness touched my neck. I had not heard the approaching man, and now my life centered around a sharp, cutting sting digging into my skin.
“Drop your sword, Inspector,” my captor yelled, “or I’ll kill her!”
My heart pounded. Inspector Han blinked, as if haziness clouded his vision. He struggled to look at us. I held my breath.
“I’m not fooling around!” The bandit pressed the blade deeper, but not yet through my skin. “I’ll kill her!”
Silence. A grimace darkened Inspector Han’s face. “Go ahead.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?” The captor gaped. “Do you not value your servant?”
Pain clamped my heart as Inspector Han swayed, then stabbed the blade into the earth to support himself. “I have no need for a damo who gets in the way of my investigation.”
Disbelief weakened my knees. I’d made one mistake, a small mistake—wanting to see what the inspector was seeing. I had never meant for any of this to happen. Yet Inspector Han was finished with me. Just like that.
The ache of betrayal jabbed at the underside of my ribs, more painful than the blade pressed against my throat.
Little Sister, my brother’s voice whispered into the burning cavern of my chest. His voice steadied me, as it always steadied me. No one in this entire kingdom can care for you as deeply as family.
The words coursed through my body. The bones of my brother wept in the cold earth. No burial mound, no eulogy, no flowers. All alone. As alone as I felt now, though I was surrounded by grimy faces.
I could not die like this.
Ten thousand rivers run unceasingly into the sea, yet it never overflows. That is the measurement of our love for you. Mother, Sister, and I. Our love is the sea—a deep sea.
I still had family. I had to live for her.
With all my might, I crushed my heel into the bandit’s foot, and the knife jolted away from my neck. Grabbing the blade with my bare hand, I bit his wrist hard, my teeth clinging to his very bones as he grabbed my hair and tried to wrench me off.
“Master!” Ryun’s frantic voice cried.
Ahead of me, Inspector Han fell to one knee. No one had struck him, or even touched him. Yet he swayed, then lost his grip on the sword and collapsed to the side.
“This is heaven’s sign!” a bandit called out. “Collect our wounded men! We need to retreat, now!”
My captor tried shaking me off, but when I continued to cling to the blade, a growl rumbled deep within his chest. The hilt struck my face and stars exploded before my eyes. Blood rolled in my mouth as I found myself lying flat on the ground, staring up at the blur of dizzying green. I closed my eyes, sharp pain shooting up from my fingers and piercing my head, making my ears ache, and when I looked down at my hand I saw why. I’d cut my fingers open, my palm a puddle of fire-hot blood.
I curled into a ball and remembered what to do when the sight of blood terrified me. Breathe slowly and deeply through your nose, then let it out, Older Brother had taught me. Listen to the whooshing sound.
Whoosh, the waves upon the shore.
Whoosh, Mother falling off a cliff.
TEN
WHEN I WAS young, I could sleep long into the afternoon if no one woke me, drunk on dreams filled with sweetness and warmth. But on the night after the Mount Hwa incident, I closed my eyes and saw a dead boy with a sword in his stomach, just him and me in the silent forest. No matter how hard I tried to wake up, I could not escape the forest, and no matter how far I ran, the corpse always followed. Then at last I woke up, thrashing and entangled in a drenched blanket.
“You have a fever,” Aejung told me, urging me to lie still. She placed a cloth on my forehead. “It is your wound. Infected.”
It got worse, and I was thrown in and out of strange nightmares, unable to recall the time passing or whether the tall shadows around me were humans. Then the bitter taste of something herbal poured into my mouth. I choked and a cloth wiped my mouth.
Female voices consulted one another as they inserted thread-thin needles into my skin.
“Not there!” came a whisper. “When the head nurse trained me in acupuncture, she said the needle should go a little higher. Right here.”
Was I dying?
Then the raging storm stilled, the freezing spray of sea-mist withdrew, and I was lying flat on my back, blinking up at the white ceiling. The world no longer twirled. A strange emotion crept into my chest as I continued to stare. It was as though the storm had blown out the light that had danced around in the swaying grass of immortal green, leaving a dark cavern in me.
I flinched at a sudden noise, the screen door sliding open. Aejung stepped in and knelt before my sleeping mat. She touched my forehead and inspected my wounds before rewrapping it.
“How long was I sick for?” I asked.
“Five days.”
Five days. It had felt more like a single night.
“During the first three days we worried you wouldn’t make it, but then you started recovering on the fourth.” She helped me up onto my feet, peeled me out of my nightgown, stale with dried sweat. My frail and ghostly pale body gave us both pause.