The Continent (The Continent #1)(61)

I sit on the steps to wait for him, Shoshi Kaken’s words echoing in my mind. They have followed her planes to our very doorstep. Could it be true? Could the Spire have unwittingly changed the course of the war by touring the Continent? Or was it a natural turn of events, an alteration of strategy in the relentless Topi drive to destroy the Aven’ei?

I sigh. I cannot know the answer, but I fear that in the weeks to come, Shoshi’s suggestion will bleed through the village like ink in the fibers of a parchment—spreading, twisting, covering everything in its path and making an indelible mark. The villagers already look at me with mistrust and suspicion. I am an outsider still, and as the news of the Topi advancement becomes known, I wonder if others, too, will direct the blame at me.

I hear the door close across the street and see Noro heading toward me, a brown, paper-wrapped parcel in his left hand. He sits down and hands me the package; a length of twine is tied neatly around it, knotted into a tidy bow.

“What is this?”

“A gift,” he says.

“But when did you—”

“I made an order two weeks ago, just before I left.” He gives me a gentle nudge with his elbow. “Open it.”

I hold the package in my hands, rubbing my thumb along the scratchy twine. My throat feels tight, my cheeks warm.

Noro leans over and scrutinizes my face. “What is the matter? Have I acted improperly?”

“No. No. It’s just…well, you gave me the soap after I first arrived—a thing I treasured, by the way, until it was only a tiny speck of lavender. But the last time I was given a gift in this way, the box held my ticket to the Continent.”

“I am sorry, Vaela. I did not mean to revive such memories.”

I shake my head. “No—it’s all right. It is a good memory, after all, isn’t it? My parents were so happy that night.”

“I imagine they were, having brought such joy to you.”

I wipe the moisture from my eyes and smile. “I’m sorry. This was very thoughtful of you, I don’t mean to spoil it.”

“You have spoiled nothing. Would you like to open it another time?”

“No,” I say, and lean over to kiss his cheek. “In truth, I quite like presents.”

He laughs as I untie the twine, coil it beside me, and carefully unfold the paper. There is a black leather case inside, much like the one Noro uses to transport his knives. I look up at him in confusion.

“Unroll it,” he says, nodding toward the bundle.

I unfurl the case to see, as I expected, a set of knives—six of them in total. Only the handles are exposed, made of polished, gleaming blackwood. I pull one of the knives from its sheath and the blade glitters, its beveled edges glinting in the light. It is slightly smaller than one of Noro’s—perhaps six inches from the butt of the handle to the tip of the blade. I am no authority when it comes to weaponry, but I can tell that these are of very fine quality.

I turn it over in my hand, admiring the craftsmanship, the smooth lines, the graceful curves of the haft. “They’re beautiful,” I say, surprising myself.

“They are made especially for you, miyake.” He takes a second knife from the case and holds it before him. “The Aven’ei believe it is a sin to waste an aptitude. Where skill is recognized, it is nurtured, lest the ability dwindle from misuse or neglect. You have a gift, Vaela—a natural talent with the knives. I give these to you so that you may hone your skill, and perhaps one day master the art.”

“I hope your confidence is not misplaced,” I say doubtfully.

“It is not. It will take much work, but I have trained many and I know what I have seen in you.”

“I don’t know what to say, Noro.”

“Say you will let me teach you.”

I look over at him and smile. “When shall we begin?”





CHAPTER 21





SUMMER COMES ON LIKE A BREATH OF WIND, spreading a bloom of red and orange brush over the southeastern tip of the Continent. One by one, the scouts return from the west, the truth of the Topi advancement confirmed. Two settlements are reported exactly where I indicated they would be, with a significant force amassed between them. Several great assemblies are held in Hayato, and representatives from villages as far north as the Riverbed are in attendance. No consensus is reached as to the best course of action; the leaders are divided. The villagers, too, discuss the quandary. Most seem to feel that it is best to wait, to fight on familiar ground. Amongst all, there is a singular certainty: blood will be shed. It is not a question of if, but of when and where.

The waiting leaves time for much contemplation, and I find myself amidst a storm of mixed emotions. The kazuri ko is near its end, and I may have the opportunity to return home within the next few months. But while the thought of the Spire fills me with longing, a small part of me is quietly ignoring the fact that to go home will mean saying goodbye to Noro and all the rest. Who might have thought that I would become so attached to the Aven’ei?

The Continent is truly lovely in the summertime, and the warming of the weather stirs a restlessness in me that kindles an adventurous spirit. And so, on a mild, lovely day, I find myself in the center of a vast field, a mile or so north of the village, ready to begin my training with Noro.

Takashi has joined us so that he might spar with me while Noro instructs, and Yuki has come along to observe. The wind ruffles the long grass as I stand uncertainly behind Takashi, who is facing the distant mountains.