With both hands, Oshli carefully passed me the weapon. “That was the first time I glimpsed the true Channari, whom even tigers feared, and not the girl who sat on a broken stool peeling taro root all day in her mask. She was exceptionally strong, and bold, and loyal. That was the woman who became your stepmother.”
I was quiet before I spoke. “Thank you.”
Oshli gave a slow nod. For a moment I thought he might speak again—for his lips were parted. But before I could query what had been on his mind, he turned for the road and took his leave.
I wasn’t alone for long. Soon enough, Kiki returned, and I spied Takkan’s silhouette not far down the road. The paper bird landed on my shoulder, and I let her poke into my thoughts, catching up with what she’d missed while away.
I said nothing and rolled the spear in my hands, tracing its grooves and edges. Even broken, it was heavy—I could hardly heave it past my shoulders without straining. That Raikama had wielded it against a tiger was a testament to her strength—and a reminder of how twice she had lifted me off my feet, as if I weighed little more than a doll.
I had thought that coming to Raikama’s birthplace would give me answers about her past. Instead, I had more questions than ever.
Blood stained the broken end of the spear. It was dried, blackened by time. I could not tell whether the blood was my stepmother’s or someone else’s.
I dipped into my satchel for the mirror of truth. “Show me whose blood is on this spear.”
Seconds passed, and the glass only misted over with humidity.
Kiki wrinkled her beak. Some magic mirror. I hope Elang is getting more use out of it than you.
I shrugged. “Lady Nahma told me it would show only what it wants me to see. Perhaps the past is better kept in the past.”
Is it? I never took you for a sage, Shiori.
My face crinkled into a small, tired smile. “Not that I don’t have suspicions.”
You think the blood is the Wraith’s.
I did, and I finally lowered the spear. Takkan had returned, carrying two buckets of water.
“That looks like it’s impaled a demon or two,” he said, gesturing at the spear.
“It was Raikama’s,” I replied. “Oshli says she wielded it to fight the demon that killed her sister.”
Before he could ask more, I steered him into the kitchen. “I saved you cakes. Eat them before they spoil.”
Takkan picked one up from the plate. “These are Channari’s cakes. From the song.”
I nodded, impressed that he remembered. “Of all the islands and all the villages in Tambu, we came to hers,” I murmured. “And here I am, baking her cakes in her childhood home.”
“Your strand of fate is tied more closely to hers than anyone’s.”
“Even yours?” I teased.
Takkan parted his lips, but no reply came. Dusk was fast approaching, and the shadows grew bold. They crept out of the cracks in the walls, draping a film of darkness over the house. When they touched Takkan’s eyes, his gaze blackened, like a light extinguished.
He set down the cake and took a step back, resuming his distance from me. “You should get the ropes.”
I didn’t waste a beat. I grabbed the ropes and incense Oshli had left. Together, we tied him to the tree in the courtyard. I couldn’t help but think of the threads we’d tied around our wrists just days before. About how those knots had been made with love and laughter, while this one, which I tightened against Takkan’s chest, was made with fear.
Were he in my place, he’d find some story to tell to ease my mind and distract me from my ordeal. Stories about monkeys with magical hair, carp that granted wishes, and brushes that painted objects into life, as in the letters he’d written me. Yet I was useless. My throat had constricted in worry. All I could say was “I’ll prepare a fire to light the braziers.”
He didn’t even eat, remarked Kiki as I returned to the kitchen.
I swallowed hard, picking up his untouched cakes. Let him be.
I was looking for something to strike a fire with and accidentally yanked aside the muslin cloth hanging against the wall. Behind the curtain was a broken stool—the very one Oshli had mentioned. I leaned my stepmother’s spear against the wall, giving my shoulders a break from its weight.
Don’t look so dour, Kiki said, trying to cheer me up. With Takkan tied up to that tree, you’ll get the bed all to yourself. There’s only one in this whole house, and—
I didn’t know why I flushed. “That isn’t it,” I said curtly.
Is it the blood, then? Kiki was in a gossipy mood, which was nothing unusual. She landed on the spear, pecking at its warped grooves as I searched the room. I could have sworn I’d seen a stash of flint somewhere.
You really think Vanna was killed by—
Too late, I felt a stab of panic. “Kiki, don’t say his na—”
Khramelan?
Too late. The name had been uttered, and I shot up to my feet, adrenaline rushing to my head. I clamped down on Kiki’s beak and glanced outside, heart speeding in my chest. The sun was nearly sunk, and Takkan’s back was to me.
What’s the matter with you, Shiori? Kiki trilled. Takkan can’t hear me anyway.
“It is not Takkan I’m worried about.”
A tuft of smoke had puffed up from the candle by the window. Except that candle had never been lit.
A terrible certainty welled within me.
From the window, I saw smoke drift up from the amulet around Takkan’s neck. It slipped between the knots that held Takkan fast, then seeped into his mouth and nostrils. “Get the spear!” he shouted. “Now, Shiori!”
With a gasp, I lunged for Raikama’s weapon. I’d made it to the door when Takkan appeared, ropes still dangling from his waist, eyes flickering uncontrollably from brown to red. He blocked me, a smirk distorting his features.
I swung, but Takkan evaded the spear easily and caught the shaft in one hand. His eyes blazed red as wolfberries as he pushed me against the wall.
You know, I’ve always wanted to meet the Wraith. Bandur’s voice stabbed into my thoughts. And now I know his true name, thanks to you. He rammed the spear against my shoulder, and a firework of pain exploded in my collarbone.
Kiki launched herself at the demon, but I caught her by the wing and hurled her out of the window—she had no chance against Bandur. Not that I did, either. I couldn’t even look away as the Wolf misted into being, his horrid visage superimposed over Takkan’s.
“Clever of you, seeking to pit the Wraith against me. But you make a mistake, Shiori’anma. You imagine he’ll be like me, open to reason and conversation.”
“You? Open to reason and conversation?” I scoffed. My hands were on the spear, but little by little, I was stepping toward the kitchen, trying to reach the unwashed bowls I’d left on the table. “Don’t make me laugh.”