air just before it hit the side of my head. Fragile, papery wings crumpled in my grip. I lowered my arm and opened my fingers to reveal a folded origami crane, the paper pitch-black and without design, lying crushed in the center of my palm.
Apprehension flickered. A summons? Now? Warily, I scanned the crowds, searching for hidden threats, for faces that I knew and gazes that lingered too long on me. I spotted nothing out of place, but a ripple of unease crept up my spine—not for me, but for the girl dancing in the crowd.
What should I do? I can’t take her with me. They’ll kill her. I glanced around, wondering if I could slip away and leave Yumeko here, if she’d be in the same place when I returned. But that was risky; I needed the girl to take me to the Steel Feather temple, and Yumeko seemed the type to wander after me if I simply disappeared. If she stumbled upon Shadow Clan business, they would show her no mercy.
Gazing around, I spotted a large square building on the corner of the street, blue curtains over the door welcoming in travelers. A ryokan.
That will have to do.
I stalked around the circle, found Yumeko in the sea of dancers and grabbed her by the arm. She jumped, gazing at me with large black eyes, and I felt an odd churning sensation in my stomach.
“Oh, Tatsumi-san.” She blinked, then gave me a somewhat wry smile. “Did you change your mind? Were you so moved by the proverb of the kawauso and the Jade Prophet that you decided to give fun a try?”
I glared at her. “That wasn’t even a real proverb.”
“But it can still teach a valuable lesson. You don’t want to become a mean old river otter, do you?”
Setting my jaw, I pulled her to the edge of the square, then nodded to the end of the street. “Do you see the building on the corner?” I asked in a furtive voice. “The one with the largest lantern and the blue curtains over the doorway?”
She gazed over the heads of the crowd. “The ryokan?”
So, she knew what an inn was, at least. Good. “Take these,” I said, and dropped a trio of silver tora into her open palm. The coins clinked against each other; three silver disks with the imprint of a snarling tiger in the center. “Go to the inn. Use the money to get us a room for the night. That should cover everything.”
She gazed at the money in her hands, then back up at me. “Where are you going?”
“I have...business to take care of. I won’t be long.”
“Business.” Her brow furrowed. “At this time of night?” When I didn’t answer, the frown deepened. “Why can’t we go together?”
“That is not possible.”
“Why not?”
Irritation flared, mingled with a hint of fear. “You ask a lot of questions,” I told her in a cold voice. Questions were dangerous. Questions would get her killed faster than anything else. “Perhaps there are things you don’t need to know.”
She shrank back, then sighed and closed her fingers tightly around the coins. “Just...promise you’ll come back,” she said quietly. “That you won’t disappear into the night and I’ll never see you again. Swear to me that you’ll come back.”
“I have no intention of leaving.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes.”
She nodded once and stepped away, but I abruptly reached out and caught her sleeve, making her turn. “I want the same promise,” I told her, and a flicker of confusion crossed her face. “That you’ll remain at the inn. That you won’t try to leave or follow me. Stay in the room until I return, Yumeko. Promise me.”
She nodded. “I will.”
“Go, then.” I released her, and she started across the street toward the ryokan, clutching the handful of coins. I watched until she had ducked through the doorway beneath the curtains, then turned and walked back the way we’d come.
Something rustled in my hand. When I opened my fist, the folded paper crane stirred and unfurled crumpled black wings. With several flaps, the paper creature rose into the air like a dying butterfly and flitted away.
I followed. The crane led me past the square, the drums still pounding out their booming rhythm, to a narrow alley between a teahouse and a textiles shop. The origami creature continued into the corridor, flitting over the ground, but I paused at the entrance and gazed into the dark. Overhead, a single string of chochin stretched away for a good