In the Mountain's Shadow

Disgraced Name Keeper Iuchi Saina must venture deep into a collapsed mine in search of redemption and a tormented spirit bent on destruction, in this new tale of the Unicorn Clan from Aconyte Books.

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In the Mountain’s Shadow

A Tale of the Unicorn Clan

by Evan Dicken

Iuchi Saina was a failure and a disgrace. No amount of meditation would change that.

“Focus on the wind, the rain, the stone, the burning incense. Separate, but part of a harmonious whole.” Abbot Ienaga’s calmness only tightened the angry knot in Saina’s chest.

Six months. Six. More than half a year since she had been packed off to Four Stones Monastery for self-reflection. Saina had tried; she truly had. But harmony had proven elusive as desert rain.

She shouldn’t have hit Shinjo Masato, had known it was a mistake as soon as she swung. But it had felt so good to once, just once, wipe the smirk from his face.

It didn’t matter that Masato had reached for his blade. It didn’t matter that he and his tittering crows had pecked at Saina from the moment she entered Mistress Ayako’s school. All that mattered was Saina had lost control. Masato had paid for her failure with burns and broken bones. And Saina?

She was still paying.

“Focus on the chime.” Abbot Ienaga rang his damnable bell again. “Feel the reverberation echo through each element.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Saina tried to push the anger from her thoughts.

“You cannot force balance,” Ienaga said.

“I know.” She spoke through gritted teeth. If spirits could be battered or bullied into submission, Saina would have long surpassed even Mistress Ayako. But all Iuchi knew that path led to blood magic and corruption. Name Keepers were not like other shindōshi. Theirs was a more personal relationship, a bond of trust and mutual respect that transcended mere ritual.

Realizing the abbot had gone silent, Saina cracked an eye. Ienaga’s posture was stiff as the bronze statues arrayed across the shrine.

“Apologies for my rudeness.” Saina blew out a frustrated sigh. She had let her temper get the better of her. Again.

He gave a dismissive hum. “Discourtesy is a blade that cuts only those who wield it.”

A bell rang. Not one of Ienaga’s meditation chimes, but the low, sonorous peal of Four Stones’ great temple bell. Strange. It was well past midday and far too soon for evening ritual.

The temple screen slid aside to reveal a kneeling monk. “A messenger from Lord Harunobu.”

Saina frowned. She knew little of Harunobu. A minor Iuchi noble whose mountainous fief consisted of a few hardscrabble mining villages. Although Harunobu was technically lord of Four Stones, the monastery was exempt from taxes or labor quotas.

Ienaga turned to Saina. “Return to your quarters.”

Saina rose only to pause as the monk outside gave an embarrassed cough.

“Apologies, but the messenger is for Lady Iuchi.”

Saina’s surprise must have been plain, because the abbot gave a terse nod. “Let us see what this is about.”

They stepped from the incense-wreathed glow of Four Stones’ central temple and into the rain. It soaked into Saina’s robes, icy drops trickling between her shoulder blades.

A samurai in battered scout armor waited by the western gate. Nearby, a pair of horses drank greedily from the temple’s water trough. They were of the short, shaggy breed preferred by those who called the Spine of the World mountains home. Several of the temple’s initiates were hard at work currying coats and picking detritus from their hooves. Both mounts were still in harnesses, which meant the messenger did not intend to remain.

 At their approach, the samurai offered a respectful nod. “I am Zeshi Minori. My apologies for the imposition, but Lord Harunobu heard there was a Name Keeper in residence.”

Saina blinked. “I am she.”

Minori fell to her knees, a mixture of relief and concern on her dirt-streaked face. “Then we are in desperate need of your aid.”

“We should speak inside.” Ienaga’s voice was clipped.

Minori shook her head. “No time.”

Ienaga drew himself up. “I do not know what you hope to accomplish here, but Iuchi Saina is not—”

“I would hear Lord Harunobu’s request.” The words slipped from Saina’s lips. Cheeks warming, she glanced at Ienaga. Although the abbot’s expression remained calm, a note of warning glimmered in his dark eyes. All of this was lost on Minori, who pushed to her feet.

“It is a kansen, lady. The miners broke into an underground chamber and released a spirit of terrible power. Lord Harunobu sent four of our best samurai. None returned. Now the fiend threatens the village with quakes and falling stones.” She took a step forward, gaze beseeching. “You are the only Name Keeper within two days’ ride.”

“Find someone else.” It was Abbot Ienaga who answered. “You can bring the villagers to Four Stones.”

“The kansen’s fury made the cliffs unstable,” Minori replied. “We cannot evacuate the town.”

 “I am sorry,” Ienaga said. “But Lady Iuchi cannot help you.”

Saina stiffened, shoulders tight against the anger that threatened to overwhelm her. “It is not for the abbot to say what I can and cannot do.”

Momentary surprise flickered across Ienaga’s wrinkled face. “You are here at the order of your mistress.”

“Lives will be lost if I do not help,” Saina said. “Ayako will understand.”

Ienaga gave a pained nod. “I cannot command you to stay.”

It was as close to agreement as Saina would get from the old abbot. Face hot from the exchange, she turned to Minori.

“Give me a moment to collect my things.” Saina hurried back to her small room. Four paces by three, it contained little more than her sleeping mat and a lacquered chest.

Despite the pain of separation, she had kept her oath to Mistress Ayako not to summon her spirits. But a broken promise weighed little when balanced against so many lives.

With a deep breath, Saina opened the chest. Her fingers brushed across the intricate horsehair braid, the collection of polished river rocks frozen in clear glass.

“Hesiesh, Ulurua.” Saina whispered the spirits’ true names, reveling in the feel of the unnatural syllables on her tongue.

Outside her door, the rain slackened as the wind and water elementals sent rivulets into Saina’s chamber. The tiny river parted, surrounding her in a thin, silvery ring. Blinking back tears, Saina clasped the talismans to her chest. The spirits cared nothing for her failures. A simple bond, but one that ran deeper than the River of Gold.

One last talisman remained in the chest. An arrow, fletching burnt, shaft scorched, its steel head blackened by fire.

Saina hesitated. It was not that she trusted the arrow’s spirit less than the others. Kelak had been her first, a constant flame lighting even the darkest moments of her life. It had been Kelak who dried Saina’s tears when Masato and the others had been particularly cruel. Kelak who swept her into their warm embrace when cold winds came howling across the tundra. Saina trusted Kelak more than she trusted herself.

And therein lay the problem.

She told herself it would not be as it had with Masato – Saina’s temper the tinder to Kelak’s hungry flame. This time, she faced a kansen, not a petty courtier jealous of her gifts.

“Ayako be damned. I need you.” She swept up the arrow, Kelak’s fierce heat flowing up her arm.

For the first time in months, Saina felt whole.

She slipped the talismans into her satchel, almost floating from the room. Even the rain’s chill diminished as Saina rounded the monastery’s modest stone garden.

Minori and Ienaga stood where she had left them. Judging by the coldness in Ienaga’s bearing, he had failed to convince the samurai of her lord’s error.

Minori gestured to the mounts. “Can you handle a horse on the mountain, lady?”

“I am Unicorn.” It was all the answer required.

A monk pressed a bridle into Saina’s hands. Sparing not a glance for Ienaga, she mounted up and nodded to the scout.

“Lead on.”

Yamanaka turned out to be a jumble of stone dwellings clinging to the side of one of the smaller peaks. Saina and Minori had traveled through the night. Often the path dwindled to little more than a herding trail, but somehow the ponies kept their footing, picking across the uneven ground with the surety of mountain goats.

It was obvious why Lord Harunobu had kept the villagers in Yamanaka. Part of the mountain had sheared away, half-burying the single switchback that led to the village. Saina and Minori had to abandon their mounts to half-climb, half-scramble up the slope.

Soot-streaked faces watched Saina and Minori from shadowed doorways, lips pursed and eyes nervous. Lord Harunobu stood at the center of a knot of nervous looking samurai. He was long-faced, with a perpetual scowl and eyes as unforgiving as shale cliffs.

“You are Saina?” Harunobu’s voice was blunt as his bearing.

She inclined her head.

He looked her up and down. “I thought you would be older.”

She felt a flush creep up her neck. “I have been trained in the art of Name Keeping by Mistress Iuchi Ayako.”

“Never heard of her.” Harunobu said – insultingly direct, even for a lord.

The heat in Saina’s cheeks blossomed. With effort, she tamped down her burgeoning temper.

“With respect, lord… you sent for me.”

He crossed his arms. “That was before I knew you were a mere initiate.”

“An initiate who is willing to risk her life for you and your people.” Saina fought to keep her voice level.

His frown deepened. “Your inexperience may make the situation worse.”

Saina raised an eyebrow, glancing about the rubble-strewn village. “Worse than this?”

Harunobu’s jaw pulsed. Once. Twice. Abruptly, he gestured toward a ragged opening up the slope.

“Down the central shaft, turn right at the first junction, keep going down.”

“Do you know anything of this spirit?” Saina asked.

He grunted. “Only that it killed a score of miners and four of my best samurai.”

Saina winced. In spiritual conflict, knowledge was her best weapon. Approaching the kansen blind would be like entering a duel with her arms bound.

Although their lord had nothing but cold-eyed scrutiny, Harunobu’s samurai stepped from Saina’s path with respectful bows.

She helped herself to one of the discarded lanterns outside the mine. Kelak could have lit it in an eyeblink, but Saina feared they might not stop with a mere taper, so she settled for a flint striker.

The mine stank. A mixture of churned earth and stagnant water, threaded by the sickly reek of death. Wary of bad air, Saina slipped a hand inside her satchel to grasp the braided horsehair charm.

Hesiesh came with the distant rumble of hooves, the snap of war banners. Theirs was a bold wind, spirited as the squalls that roared across the wide plains Saina called home. It surrounded her, tugging her hair loose from the leather thong.

She pressed a hand toward the ground, palm down. “Save your strength, old friend.”

Grudgingly, the gusts quieted. A swirl of fresh air surrounded Saina as she descended further.

The kansen’s fury had sent cracks through the mine. Tainted water dripped from the ceiling. Although Saina’s neck and forearms prickled at the closeness of so much corruption, it was heartening to see the kansen’s bonds had not wholly deteriorated. Otherwise, it would have long since broken free of the mine.

A scattering of bloodless faces greeted her at the bottom of a long ladder. Harunobu’s samurai. Some had been crushed by rocks, others seemingly half-swallowed by the mountain itself.

Saina slipped her hand into her satchel, drawing comfort from her spirits’ closeness.

About forty paces beyond, the tunnel widened into a cavern. Unlike the rough stone of the shafts above, the chamber had a worked quality.

Saina’s lantern caught shadowy carvings upon the rock. Constellations of engraved sigils, careful inscriptions cleft by cracks and fallen stones. Although Saina was no scholar, she knew enough to recognize ancient wards. Her suspicions were confirmed by the rivulets of iridescent corruption leaking from the cracks.

A large pile of stones blocked the rear of the cavern. Saina’s lantern revealed a pale hand thrust from the rubble. She played the light over the pile, noticing a scrap of cloth, a streak of blood, a fall of dark hair. Saina’s fingers tightened on her talismans. At least the miners appeared to have died quickly.

Like the growl of a vicious dog, the rock above rumbled as Saina threaded her way across the cavern. She exhorted Hesiesh to greater strength. Although the air elemental could do little to stop a cave-in, the winds might be enough to deflect a falling stone.

Saina could still feel power in the wards. Like a distant bonfire, they glimmered at the edges of her perception. Those nearest the breach seemed to hiss and sputter, guttering as the trickle of corruption wore away the protective enchantments.

To banish the vile spirit, Saina would need to clear away the rubble; but that would undo what little power remained.

Swallowing against the knot in her throat, she squared her shoulders. The cavern wards seemed to emanate from a capstone high into the ceiling. Corruption had infiltrated the stone, opalescent veins threading the wards like oil on water.

It was just a matter of exhorting Hesiesh to apply their full strength to the capstone. Dirt and loose gravel whipped through the air. Saina raised an arm to shield her face.

There was a sharp crack, although not from above. A flicker to her left was Saina’s only warning as the kansen struck. She hurled herself to the ground as a heavy slab shattered against the cavern wall behind her.

As always, anger came more easily than fear. Ulurua’s name on her lips, Saina scrambled to her feet as the kansen rose from the pile.

A hulking, vaguely horse-shaped collection of stones, it filled the rear of the cavern. Rough diamonds glittered like torches amidst the rock, burning with rage as the kansen pawed the ground. Its every movement was filled with the furious screech of stone against stone.

Saina did not wait for the kansen to charge. At her call, Ulurua sent liquid tendrils through the air. Although a more subtle touch than Hesiesh, the water elemental was no less forceful. Rivulets slipped into the kansen, a widening river that sought to undermine its physical form.

The corrupt spirit shuddered, stony limbs rigid. With a grinding shake, it seemed to draw tighter. Ulurua was forced from the kansen, water spraying from between the rocks.

Hesiesh tore at the kansen, but even the strongest wind was little proof against a landslide. Flinty hooves struck sparks from iron ore as the kansen charged. One of them clipped Saina’s left shoulder, flinging her across the cavern like windblown silk.

Rebounding from the hard stone wall, Saina tried to stand, to move, to call out, but her body felt loose and liquid. Her left shoulder buzzed, the arm below limp as sodden rope.

Although the kansen’s strike had sent Saina’s lantern clattering from her hand, the spirit’s fury burned bright enough to illuminate the cavern. Mouth working, Saina watched its shadow grow upon the far wall. The thing stood over her, hoof raised.

At last, Saina managed to force air into her abused lungs. The name came as a whisper, a prayer, drowned by the grinding scream of the kansen.

“Kelak.”

With a snap of dry kindling, the fire elemental roared to life. Kelak came in a whorl of bright cinders, the air alight with musky scents of torches and campfires – of flames constrained, yet ever straining to burn free.

Pushing to her knees, Saina unleashed Kelak upon the corrupt spirit. Each furious shout was echoed by a gout of flame. The heat of Kelak’s assault tightened the skin on her face, her wind-tousled hair smoldering. But Saina felt little save the upswell of joyous fury.

This was not Mistress Ayako’s school. Saina’s foe was not an arrogant bully, but a spirit fallen to corruption. She need hold nothing back.

For once, Saina could become the flame.

Howling like an Utaku Battle Maiden, she surged to her feet. True names spilled from her lips. Hesiesh joined Kelak, stoking the fire elemental’s flames to forge brightness. The kansen thrashed amidst the inferno, lashing out with razored hooves.

Saina sent Ulurua along the cavern floor. Water flowed up the kansen’s legs. Rather than weigh the thing down, Saina exhorted Ulurua to climb into the fiend’s stony body. Beset by Kelak and Hesiesh, the corrupt spirit could not force the water elemental out.

As if realizing she was the source of its misery, the corrupt spirit spun toward Saina, diamond eyes furious amidst the flames.

Laughing, she closed her good hand into a fist.

The kansen took a step toward her and stumbled. Steam rose as Kelak’s wind-driven flames heated the water within the kansen’s body, causing it to expand. Rocks shifted, the crack of stone sharp above the roaring flames.

Saina dove behind a canted boulder as the kansen exploded. Steaming rock clattered from the cavern walls, showering Saina in a blistering, cutting rain. By the Fortunes’ grace, the stones only battered and singed.

Then all was silent save for the hiss of cooling rock.

Saina stumbled to her feet. Destroying the kansen’s physical form would leave it vulnerable. Now all that remained was to banish the vile thing.

Saina drew in a shaky breath, only to pause as a thick gurgle resounded from the far side of the cavern.

Slowly, she turned.

The spirit’s destruction had scattered the piled stones. Corruption seeped from the rock, a prismatic flood that sent tainted tendrils flowing across the cavern. With a rattle of dislodged stones, one of the miners staggered to her feet. Her neck was canted at a hard angle, ribs caved in, one arm little more than a mess of bloody bone.

Saina pressed a hand to her mouth as the other corpses clawed free of the rubble to form a rough semicircle across the chamber.

Saina shook her head. They had destroyed the kansen’s form. To inflict itself upon the physical world so soon would require power beyond imagining.

That, or Saina had defeated the wrong spirit.

Horror doused the flames of Saina’s fury. Dimly, she looked to the pile of stones that was all that remained of the kansen’s physical form.

No. Not a kansen. A guardian spirit. It must have awakened when the miners broke into the warded cavern. Harunobu’s samurai had been slain not out of wickedness, but duty.

Jaw tight, Saina blinked back angry tears. The chamber reeked of corruption, true. The guardian’s stones were covered in tainted effluvium, but beneath the foulness, Saina could sense the spirit itself – diminished, but ultimately uncorrupted.

What a fool she had been.

The corpses advanced, urged on by an opalescent shadow that seemed to hover in the dusty air like light refracted through water.

Saina straightened with a ragged breath. Now was not the time for recrimination. She had failed, but there was still a chance to make things right.

At Saina’s call, her spirits rolled across the walking dead. Arcs of wind-driven flame scoured flesh from bone. Steam filled the chamber as water sheeted from cracks in the stone, bowling dead miners from their feet.

Saina stood within a bubble of calm, protected by her spirits. Injured arm clutched to her chest, she watched as the corpses’ unnatural life gradually stilled. Even as the last of the walking dead fell still, the kansen’s power continued to wax. Corruption flowed across the chamber in insipid waves, the piled stones distorted as if by a heat mirage.

Saina blinked back stinging tears, trying to parse the source of the corruption. Breath caught in her throat as she noticed a surreal glimmer amidst the rock. Unnatural light flickered between the stones. Cruel and caustic, it seemed to settle upon Saina’s skin like an oily film.

Despite never having experienced such a sensation before, Saina knew enough to recognize the vicious glow. Although the Spirit Realms were many, that terrible glimmer could have but once source. Somehow, deep within the cold heart of the mountain, a portal to the Realm of Torment had formed.

Before the realization could take hold, the kansen struck.

Like a swarm of corpse flies, the kansen’s power spread through the chamber. Unnatural colors filled the air, sickly shades for which Saina had no name. Her gaze seemed to slide from the thing, as if sight itself rejected the spirit’s corruption.

The cruel flecks of color cut like razors. Like a hawk beset by sparrows, Hesiesh tried to fly free of the assault only to have the kansen tear great rents in his turbulent form. Flowing to Hesiesh’s aid, Ulurua manifested a crashing wave. The water might as well have been morning mist for all the purchase it found upon the swirl of glittering motes.

Saina could almost hear the kansen’s cruel laughter. It squatted on the other side of the portal like a fiendish spider, able to strike the Mortal Realm while remaining safe in its own. Saina could not directly engage the corrupt spirit without stepping into one of the Hells, a journey from which neither she nor her spirits would likely return.

The shards of cruel color dove deep into Ulurua. The elemental faltered, wave dispersing into confused eddies.

“Kelak, no!” Saina shouted, even knowing restraint was not in fire’s nature. Kelak struck at the kansen. Great spinning siroccos of flame sent flecks of tainted color whirling through the chamber.

But the kansen was not wholly in the Mortal Realm, seemingly untouchable even by spirits. The razored motes slashed across Kelak and the fire elemental faltered, bleeding swirls of ash.

Saina’s gaze flicked about the chamber as she searched for some way to aid her friends. But the wards were broken, the chamber’s guardian shattered by Saina herself.

She stiffened. Shattered, but not broken.

Stumbling forward, Saina skidded to her knees next to the pile of smoking rocks. Although they remained hot enough to blister skin, she thrust her good hand into the pile, feeling for what remained of the chamber guardian.

Please. She reached through the fog, the pain. Listen.

Like a badger defending its den, the spirit raged against her; its anger so overwhelming, so familiar. Bound by tongues long stilled, hands long gone to dust; it had dwelt within the mountain for untold centuries, a guardian, a prisoner.

Saina could feel the unfairness of its endless duty – unasked for, yet all consuming. But in the end, it had failed. Just as Saina had failed.

Fury coiled within her, almost indistinguishable from her own.

You are right to be angry. Saina tried to push past the anger, straining to reach the emotion that lay beneath. The emotion she knew so well because it dwelt within her, too.

You fear yourself. Fear what you might become should you lose control. All this time alone. With yourself. With that. She glanced toward the kansen, still savaging her friends.

The guardian hesitated.

I cannot imagine what it was like. Saina continued. Seeing your anger, your fear reflected a thousandfold. But as it watched you, so did you watch. I cannot defeat this thing on my own, but with your help we may banish the corruption. At last, you could be free.

She felt the spirit resist, but did not attempt to force the connection. I do not ask you to forgive me. I fought when I should have looked, should have listened. And for that I am sorry. Please, help us make this right. After that, you may pass whatever judgement you see fit upon me.

There was a moment of hesitation, then Saina’s blistered fingers closed upon something amidst the rubble. Trembling, she drew forth her arm, opening her hand to reveal a flame-blackened diamond, cracked by water, pitted by wind.

It took every ounce of Saina’s strength  to stand. Body canted as if she were walking into a strong wind, Saina advanced, diamond held before her like a torch.

Unquiet color filled her senses, bleeding from sight to sound in a high, aggrieved buzz. Saina’s skin prickled as if she were beset by a thousand fiendish hornets.

Somehow, the guardian was forcing the corrupt spirit into the Mortal Realm. Such power made sense for an earth elemental. Bastions of solidarity, they were more grounded than other spirits.

She could feel the guardian around her, within her. Although the kansen raged, it was as if Saina were rooted in place.

Like a fisherwoman hauling in a full net, Saina slowly drew back her hand. Had she been alone, she would never have managed. But with the guardian, when she moved it was with the weight of the mountain.

With a howl that seemed to carve to the root of Saina’s soul, the kansen was dragged fully into the Mortal Realm.

Voice like rusted iron, Saina screamed her spirits’ names. They fell upon the kansen like a pack of hunting hounds. Hesiesh and Ulurua spun up a maelstrom. The swirling motes that made up the kansen’s body were pulled inexorably toward the center of the chamber, there to be drowned in water pulled from the crushing depths of the mine.

Only when the last of the glittering flecks were gathered did Kelak descend upon the thing, incandescent in their rage.

Even shielded by the guardian’s power, Saina was sent sprawling. By the time she found her feet, the kansen had been battered into a shapeless, scorched mass.

Stumbling over to the kansen’s remains, Saina grated out chants of expulsion. The guardian joined her other spirits in lending power to her call.

Light filled the chamber, bright enough to send searing afterimages dancing across Saina’s vision. With a rumble like heat lightning, the kansen was banished back to the wretched realm it called home.

Calling upon her tattered spirits, Saina bid them focus their energies upon the portal. Despite their injuries, Kelak, Hesiesh, and Ulurua were quick to respond. Water sheeted over the surface of the portal, windswept flame rising to eclipse the terrible light. But although they could cover the hole, they could not seem to close it.

Please. Saina reached for the guardian once more. Help us finish this.

It moved with the rumble of ancient stone; of rock shifting deep beneath the earth; the cool, lightless silence of caverns and tunnels no human eye would ever see. Behind the sheen of burning water, stony fingers spread across the portal. Slowly, they clenched into a fist, dragging the edges of the unnatural tear closed.

“Kelak!” Saina thrust her burnt hand at the portal. The fire elemental leaped from the shadows like a thrown spear, searing an angry line across the stone. It glimmered for a moment before cooling to a ragged line.

Saina drew in a shaky breath, waiting for all the terrible energies of the Realm of Torment to burst free; but although the line looked ugly as a cauterized wound, the portal remained shut. Although some lingering Shadowlands Taint remained in the chamber, Saina sensed no new corruption.

With a relieved groan, she sagged to the chamber floor. Her exhausted spirits slipped back to their talismans, a puff of warm, moist air bringing a tired smile to Saina’s face. No matter her failures, they would never desert her, nor she them.

In the end, that was all that truly mattered.

There was a flutter in her clenched fist. Saina opened her fingers to see the diamond flicker with pale light. It was time to face the guardian. Even drained, her spirits were more than capable of banishing the wounded earth elemental. But if her experience in the cavern had taught Saina anything, it was that she must own her mistakes.

She gently set the gem upon a nearby stone. “I submit to whatever punishment you judge fair.”

There was a stretch of expectant silence, precarious as the moments before an avalanche. Saina closed her eyes, expecting to be battered, broken, crushed. It would be only just considering the destruction her temper had wrought.

Theraum.

The word echoed in Saina’s mind, sonorous as a temple bell. Even so, it took her a moment to recognize it for what it was.

The guardian’s name.

She shook her head, giving a painful swallow. “I have done nothing to earn such trust.”

No. But you shall.

Saina’s eyes were too dry for tears, but she still managed a good sob, shoulders hitching as she retrieved Theraum’s talisman.

It was more than Saina dared hope. More even than she could dream. Wincing, she pushed to her feet, very much not looking forward to the long climb out of the mine. Still, Saina knew she would endure, just as she would endure Abbot Ienaga’s endless meditations, and Masato’s taunts. She could not control them. All Saina could control was herself – her anger, her fear. Head high, she picked her way from the chamber.

Iuchi Saina might be a disgrace, but no one could name her a failure.

Now, or ever.