Dragon Pearl(71)

“It’s going to be night soon,” Haneul said. Her breath puffed white in the cold. Alone of the three of us, she traveled in a bubble of calm, and I envied her. “Should we keep going, or look for a campsite?”

“Let’s take a brief break at least,” Sujin said. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m hungry again.”

As the sun’s reddening light faded, we sat on the ground, where Haneul used a twig to scratch out a map in a patch of dirt. I compared her diagram to the survey data on the slate. Together we did some calculations.

“This”—Haneul pointed with the twig—“is where we started, and that’s our destination. We’re most of the way there. Should we carry on?”

“Yes, let’s,” I said. “I don’t want to be caught out in the open if ghosts show up at night.” I didn’t know if spirits were more dangerous in the dark, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I cast a nervous eye toward the sun, which had almost sunk below the horizon. Being able to see the sky also told us that clouds had been gathering steadily.

“It smells like rain,” Sujin said, pulling a face as we got up. “We’re going to get soaked soon.”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” I said.

“I’m afraid Sujin’s right,” Haneul said.

We started off again, huddling together against the gusts. This time, in the moaning of the wind, I thought I detected voices like whispers out of the shadows. I slowed from time to time in an instinctive effort to hear the voices more clearly.

“What’s the matter with you, Min?” Haneul demanded after the fifth time I’d lagged behind. “You’re holding us up.”

I bit back a retort. “You don’t hear them?”

“Hear what?”

The voices rose, then ebbed. If I unfocused my mind, I could almost understand what they were saying. “I feel like the ghosts’ voices are trying to talk to me.” After all, Jang had spoken to me to make a bargain; maybe the Fourth Colony’s ghosts wanted something, too.

Haneul’s expression became troubled. “Are you sure they’re not trying to lure you into a trap? I’ve never heard that the Fourth Colony’s ghosts were friendly.”

It was a good point. “I don’t suppose either of you have shaman ancestry?” I asked, only half joking.

The others shook their heads. “It’s too bad,” Haneul said. “The ability to banish the dead would be useful right now.”

“Well,” I said, “I’ll try to keep up.” Haneul was right to chastise me: We couldn’t delay. We needed to find the Pearl—and shelter.

Too late. Rain started falling, slowly at first, then pelting us with freezing drops. Water poured down from above and splashed up from the ground. Haneul tried to persuade the weather spirits to shield us from the worst of it. Apparently they were in an uncooperative mood, because we still got drenched. It grew difficult to see more than a pace or two ahead, especially in the dim light, which came from a break in distant clouds through which beams of moonlight slanted, and the occasional jagged flash of lightning.

I stumbled often, not helped by the distracting voices. One of them started to distinguish itself from the others, fitfully growing louder. Despite my inability to figure out what it was saying, it sounded familiar, as though I’d heard it in another lifetime. I tried my best to concentrate on Haneul’s shoulders ahead of me and listen only to the miserable sloshing of our boots in the mud. But the voices wouldn’t go away.

I eventually slipped into a trance. It seemed like we had always been walking with the rain in our faces, and always would be. I was glad enough to drift away and leave the cold water and squelching wetness of my clothes behind for a different reality. For a while the voices quieted. Then the loudest one started up again. This time, however, perhaps because of my half-dreaming state, I could understand it.

“Min,” the voice said. It sounded male. “Min, you have to hurry.”

“Jang?” I asked blearily. Had he left the Pale Lightning to accompany us after all? Or was this an illusion?

“Min,” he said, “I may have all the time in the world, but you’re in danger. You’ve drifted off course. I can show you the way to shelter.”

I jolted back to wakefulness. “Which way are we supposed to be going?” I wasn’t sure whom I was addressing.

Sujin grabbed my arm and shook it, peering into my face as though they could diagnose what was wrong with me even in the dark. “Min? Min, snap out of it!”

“It’s those ghosts,” Haneul said. She stopped, too, and grabbed my chin painfully. “Min! Wake up. You’re dreaming about ghosts while standing up. Don’t listen to them.” The wind rose and howled, obliterating her words.

We’d reached the bank of a creek. The waters rushed past, and while it didn’t look impassable under drier conditions, I wouldn’t have wanted to risk it right now. “No, you’re right,” I said.

“Min,” said the voice again.

This time the wind quieted a little, and Haneul heard it, too. She whirled around, her eyes narrowed into slits. “Show yourself!” she called out.

A pale form coalesced before us. At first it took on the indistinct shape of some four-legged animal, crouching low to the ground. I blinked, and the animal’s outline blurred and shifted, gradually becoming human. Through the disheveled locks I recognized the face—what remained of it, anyway. Half of it flickered with ghostly flames, as though he were on fire. Between that and the hair, I could barely see his surviving eye.