get off this ship alive.” Sora looked him square in the eyes, because they both knew they were really talking about what would happen if Sora was caught and he wasn’t. He might look like a brawny killing machine, but inside, he was all loyalty, a wolf dedicated to his pack until the very end. If she didn’t make it explicit, he would stay. “You save yourself, Daemon. You get to shore and back to the Society with everything you know.”
Daemon pursed his lips. Sora could feel the tension of his worry, like a rubber band pulled so taut, it could snap at any moment.
“It’ll be fine,” Sora said, even though she couldn’t promise a thing. “Now get in the trunk.” She shoved him gently.
He laughed despite the circumstances and reluctantly climbed in. “See you in the cargo hold.”
Sora nodded. Then she piled stacks of ryuu uniforms over him and shut the lid. There were slits in the rattan weave of the trunk to allow Daemon to breathe.
Soon afterward, she found a cart filled with drums of fruit and crates of vegetables. Sora curled up in a barrel that was partially full of oranges. At least it smells good in here, she thought.
She had hardly settled herself in when voices approached.
“You’re in charge of transporting the food to the ship,” a ryuu said. Her voice still had the reedy quality of youth, but there was also a corrosive bossiness to it that made it clear she was in charge despite her age. It sounded like the same ryuu from before, the one in the cloak with Prince Gin. “Can you handle the responsibility?” she asked.
“Yes, Virtuoso,” a recruit said.
Virtuoso. Sora made note of the name. She wouldn’t make the same mistake as the report on Takish Gorge, when she didn’t have enough specific information to share with the commander.
“Recite the steps I taught you,” Virtuoso ordered the recruit.
“Look for the green particles of magic, coax them to form small hands, and command those hands to lift and carry the crates and drums to the ship.”
“I’ll watch you cast the first spell,” Virtuoso said. “Transport this one.” She thumped hard on the top of Sora’s barrel.
Sora nearly jumped out of her skin. She tensed every muscle in her body to prevent herself from knocking the oranges inside the barrel around. It would be a dead giveaway that something or someone was inside. Citrus wasn’t supposed to move on its own.
It was quiet for a minute. Was the recruit concentrating on seeing the magic? Daemon had explained to Sora about Sight.
The barrel lurched upward a foot into the air. Sora braced her hands against the inside of the drum. It continued its bumpy ascent, jerking slightly left, accelerating right, pausing, zooming up and left again . . .
And then a sudden drop. Sora barely stifled a gasp as her insides plummeted along with the barrel.
A split second later, the drum came to an abrupt halt. Sora’s heart pounded so loudly, it wouldn’t be a surprise if the ryuu outside could hear.
“At this rate,” Virtuoso said scathingly, “it’ll take us days to leave Kaede City. Either that or we’ll set sail without the food, and everyone will starve at sea.”
“I’m sorry,” the recruit said.
Virtuoso huffed impatiently. “You’re overthinking it. Taigas rely too heavily on their chants to will the magic into a spell. You’re a ryuu now. Simply see the magic and use your thoughts to imagine what you want it to do.”
“Let me try again,” he said. There was steel in his voice that Sora recognized as the resolve taught to all taigas from a young age. She could practically hear the teachers making them chant the mantra every morning before class: Failures are not end points. They are merely challenges to be mastered.
Her barrel of oranges began to rise. It was a rocky ascent again, but swifter, as if the magical hands were balancing the drum on their palms this time, rather than juggling it like before.
Then Sora’s barrel flew sideways. Toward the ship? About ten seconds later, the speed tapered off, and she was lowered slowly until the bottom of the drum thunked onto wood.
She remained very still and quiet, resisting the temptation even to brush away the hair tickling her face.
Something else heavy thudded down near her barrel. Followed by another and another. Sora kept count. There had been thirteen crates and three drums, besides her own, in the back of that cart.
When her tally reached sixteen, the thumping