The Last Stormdancer Read Free Page A

muscles taut, ready to drench the snow with him should he show some sign of deceit. But the only weapons he wielded were words. Simple words. True words.
    I have walked far, oh great Khan. I have spoken with the phoenix of the Hogosha mountains, whose wings are flame. I spoke with tanuki and henge and kappa and the great dragons of the sea. They speak of a sickness. A poisoning. Younglings born deformed, or worse, still and dead. A sadness that bids the dragons swim north, the phoenix curl up and die. And none can explain it.
    At this, my hackles rose. The sickness we knew. The sting of its loss I had felt full well …
    —BUT YOU CAN EXPLAIN, MONKEY-CHILD?—
    The boy smiled. Slow and sad.
    I do not know for certain. But I believe the smoke rising from our cities, tasting black and clinging thick to every lungful—I believe this is the sickening’s cause. I believe the blood lotus we humans plant in our soil will be the death of this island. If we do not stop it.
    —WE?—
    I hope so, yes.
    The Khan spread his wings, soared down off his throne, landed in the snow before this strange little monkey-child. I could hear his old bones creaking. See the film of age covering his eyes. One day soon, one of the bucks would challenge him for the stone seat. Change was coming. All of us could feel it. My mother had named me for it before she …
    Before …
    —WHO MAKE THIS SMOKE? THIS SICKNESS?—
    They are called the Lotus Guild, great Khan. They are masters of the machine. And the strength and wealth those machines give them buys much power. There are many of my kind who side with them. Many who do not care about the sickness this smoke causes.
    —THEN WHY WE CARE?—
    Because this island is your home.
    —PERHAPS NOT LONG, MONKEY-CHILD. WE GATHER HERE TODAY TO SPEAK ON IT. ROAR AND GROWL AND CHEW ON IT.—
    Speak on what, great Khan?
    —WE KNOW SICKNESS. HAVE SEEN IT WORK, BLACK AND VILE. WE DECIDE HERE WHETHER ARASHITORA LEAVE THIS PLACE FOREVER.—
    A vibration in the boy’s thoughts. An uncertainty, shaking his center, as an earthquake trembles the mightiest pillar.
    … You are going to leave Shima?
    —NOT YOUR BUSINESS, BOY. NOT YOUR PLACE TO QUESTION. WERE YOU NOT Y Ō KAI-KIN, ALREADY YOU BE FLYING.—
    The sparrow looked over each of us in turn. The boy’s head followed the bird’s gaze, as if he watched us also.
    There must be some among you who see as I do?
    The Khan growled, low and deep and deadly.
    —SEE NOTHING. YOU BLIND.—
    Alone in the snow. Beneath the stares of dozens of thunder tigers, any of whom could have torn him to pieces. A thousand miles from Kitsune lands, with his tattered boots and his tattered hope. And still, the boy stood tall.
    Am I?
    —MONKEY-CHILDREN MAKE SICKNESS. EXPECT ARASHITORA TO MEND? AND OF ALL, THEY SEND YOU? WEAK AND BLIND AND MEWLING?—
    Nobody sent me, great one, save perhaps the gods themselves.
    —HEAR THEM, DO YOU?—
    They have spoken to me. My grandmother has the gift of Truth. Of Sight. She said I would save the lands of Shima. End this sickness. Riding with thunder tigers at my back.
    —THEN SHE AS BLIND AS YOU.—
    You do not understand—
    —DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CARING AND UNDERSTANDING, MONKEY-CHILD.—
    A slow blink. A frown darkening that blind and vacant stare. It seemed to me the monkey-child’s mask fell away, his serenity and quiet assurance shattering upon the ice, and beneath was the face of a confused and frightened boychild, lost in a world he thought he knew.
    But … you must help.
    —NO PLACE FOR MUSTS HERE, SAVE MINE.—
    The sparrow peered at the great Khan, trembling in the freezing chill. The boy stepped forward, the pack about him rising, growling long and deep in warning.
    Please, great one. This was foretold. A child of my—
    —TAKE FORETELLINGS WHEN YOU LEAVE, MONKEY-CHILD. NO PLACE FOR THEM HERE, EITHER.—
    But I—
    The Khan’s roar was a slap to the boy’s face. Blasting the fringe back from those sightless eyes, drenching