Breath of Earth (28 page)

“Emperor Qixiang.”

“Yes,” said Lee, clearing his throat.

Despite being with him on a daily basis for five years, Ingrid stared at Lee as if seeing him for the first time. His father, the model of that priceless statue in Chinatown? Lee Fong as the figurehead of the Chinese rebellion, the greatest enemy of America and Japan?

For God's sake, she'd engaged in tickle wars with him.

“But weren't your early years spent in a Catholic orphanage?” she blurted out. “How . . . ?”

“My mother was known to be one of Qixiang's concubines, the only one to stay with him through the end. But even more, the
qilin
acknowledges me.”

Ingrid stared. A
qilin
. Known in Japanese as kirin, represented in the fawn-sized dragon statue Mr. Sakaguchi kept in the backyard. A fantastic so rare they were regarded as
extinct or mythological. They were ancient and divine judges who only appeared to sages or rightful rulers.

“Didn't Qixiang die of smallpox here in California about fifteen years back?” asked Cy.

“Yes. I never knew him.”

Cy leaned on a chair arm to frown back at Lee. “How does the heir to the Qing Dynasty end up with a Japanese warden?”

“This Sakaguchi seemed a bit overly involved,” added Fenris.

Lee grimaced. “I wasn't allowed to ask.”

“Not allowed?” Fenris's voice rose in pitch. “If you're the emperor's kid, who's to tell you what you can or can't do?”

“Emperor of what? Cities that look like
that
.” Lee gestured sharply behind them. “Even in Chinatown, only a handful of people know.”

It was bad enough that the UP thought Mr. Sakaguchi was somehow involved with the kermanite theft and the auxiliary explosion. If they knew he'd been hiding Qixiang's heir, approved by a
qilin,
on American soil . . .

“I don't understand why Mr. Sakaguchi kept you so close, Lee. He knew something bad was going to happen.” She paused. “But he kept me here, too, even with the potential for other terrible things.”

“A few months ago he called me in to talk.” Lee stared away, frowning. “He said the Unified Pacific had targeted him. He said he could fire me. Accuse me of theft or something, give me a good excuse to keep my distance. The danger was, the timing could make me look even more suspicious. I told him I would stay, continue as normal. Uncle agreed.”

“Mr. Sakaguchi knew who your uncle was?” asked Ingrid.

“Yes. I was carrying messages to Chinatown for him. I have for years. They were in code; I couldn't read them.”

“You tried?” asked Cy, an eyebrow arched.

“Of course he tried,” said Ingrid. “This is Lee. He's like a kitten, his nose into everything.” She felt the urge to ruffle his hair, as she often did, but resisted touching him. The emperor's son and heir. “You . . . you think they will kill Mr. Sakaguchi, then. Eventually.”

Lee sighed. “He's not going to cooperate. He doesn't want all us Chinese dead, but he's not going to help power rods or engines that'll be used against Americans either. Plus, he's Japanese. There are going to be some who'll want him dead from the start, just for that. With the earthquake, the
tongs
on the run . . . it's complicated, Ing.”

Always. “How long do we have?”

“I don't know. Weeks, maybe.”

Mr. Sakaguchi, working with a
tong
. Keeping Qixiang's heir in his own household. She wanted to grip her ojisan by the lapels and ask him, Why? Why work with such dangerous people, knowing that if the balance tipped, they would turn on him? Why fight for Papa, knowing the attention it would bring?

She knew the answers all too well. Because Mr. Sakaguchi was a fool. A darling, wonderful fool who wanted to save the world, no matter the danger it brought upon himself.

Wherever you are, Ojisan, I will find you. I will save you.

“Ambassador Blum and Captain Sutcliff were right,” she whispered. “Mr. Sakaguchi was a traitor to the Unified Pacific. To Japan. But not to the United States.”

Cy granted her a small smile. “He's not alone in those sentiments.”

Cy was hiding for those same reasons. And then there was Mr. Roosevelt. He and Mr. Sakaguchi had plotted something for years. All their concerns about Japan, and what would happen after China was subjugated. Did Mr. Roosevelt know the truth about Lee? Mr. Sakaguchi had trusted Mr. Roosevelt enough to tell him about Ingrid's deviant geomancy, after all. Once Papa was captured overseas, Mr. Sakaguchi had made sure Mr. Roosevelt wouldn't take the fall with him.

She wanted to trust Mr. Roosevelt—for so many years, he and Mr. Kealoha had been Mr. Sakaguchi's dearest friends—but he was also an Ambassador like Blum. When Mr. Sakaguchi advised her and Lee to go to Mr. Roosevelt, he didn't know Ingrid's power would be revealed, that Ambassador Blum would join the hunt.

Good God, where were they supposed to go? What were they supposed to do? Who could they trust?

“Wait, wait.” Fenris shifted around. The airship tilted slightly and he adjusted the steering without looking forward. “Blum? Did you say Blum?” He looked at Cy, one eyebrow raised.

“Don't tell me you had dealings with Ambassador Blum as well!” said Ingrid.

“An Ambassador—not Roosevelt—is involved? Damn,” muttered Lee.

“Not personally, though, but I think Cy had dealings enough for both of us.”

“Fenris,” Cy growled.

Fenris responded with a flippant shrug as he tapped a panel above. A pair of binoculars attached to a brass arm dropped down, and he adjusted them to his eyes.

Ingrid blinked. “Maybe it's the fever, but is Fenris suggesting that you and Blum were . . . a couple? But she's . . .”

“An Ambassador, yes.” Cy had flushed and stared at the floor between their seats. “I didn't know that at first, as I told you.”

There were times for tact. This wasn't one of them. “Actually, my first reaction was that she's . . . old. She has to be in her sixties at least.” She sat up straighter as if she could distance herself from him.

“What?” Cy looked genuinely confused. “She's near our age. That's why I never guessed she might be an Ambassador.”

“Maybe Ingrid met her grandmother?” asked Lee. “What did she look like?”

“Long red hair, curly. Blue eyes. Freckles,” said Cy.

Beautiful, in other words. The kind of pretty face that sold cigarettes at the Damcyan, that could sell pretty much anything. Had Cy
kissed
this younger Blum? Ingrid shifted her mouth in revulsion, as if he'd spread contamination to her lips. Had they done more than kiss?

“That's not who I met,” Ingrid said, voice thick. “Like I said, she was much older, though gracefully aged. She looked Japanese, spoke English without an accent. Captain Sutcliff couldn't cut her hand off. She was definitely an Ambassador.”

“That's about the most extreme way to verify an Ambassador.” Cy's brow creased in a heavy frown, causing the red layer on his skin to crackle. “How peculiar.”

“Captain Sutcliff. He acted terrified of her.” Ingrid said the name again as thoughts slipped into place. “He knew who she was by name, but he didn't know her by her face. That's why he tried to cut off the ring.”

“Like she had more than one face?” asked Lee.

The way that dogs reacted to Blum. Her keen senses. The way she manipulated Ingrid while always saying the absolute truth. The thickness of her dress at her derriere. That necklace she made sure to show off to Ingrid. “My God,” Ingrid whispered. “She wore a hoshi no tama.”

“A star ball?” said Cy. As soon as he said the words, he blanched. He was raised among the New Southern Nippon; he knew Japanese fables.

“Blum is a kitsune.” Ingrid shivered, suddenly more terrified of the woman than she had been before. Fenris still looked blank, but Lee sucked in a loud breath. “A Japanese fox spirit, a shapeshifter that can look like a woman with fox tails. The more tails they have, the longer they've lived, the more powerful they are, the more forms they can take. Her dark Reiki was like nothing I've ever seen . . . I . . .”

Blum was a fantastic. A very old and very powerful one at that. How many tails did she hide beneath her skirt? That woman—that thing—had personally tortured Papa, and knew exactly how to torture Ingrid. That spirit would use Ingrid like hellfire to destroy an entire people.

She looked at Cy. Kitsune were tricksters and seductresses, but he hadn't seen Blum's tails or even the onion-shaped pendant at her neck that was said to contain part of her very soul. Ingrid felt an odd sense of relief.

“Forget Blum for a bit. We're nearing San Bruno Mountain and I see some curious activity down by the beach.” Fenris made a sharp motion. Cy pulled down another pair of binoculars and began to scan. Ingrid stood to get a better look out of the window.

“Ingrid!” Lee yelped as he stood to help.

“I'm holding on to the seats,” she snapped.

“Here.” Fenris tugged on the hinged brass arm and brought the binoculars farther down. “Follow that dirt road toward the beach. No, not on the mountain's side, but on the Pacific.”

As viewed from their elevation, water flanked both sides of the peninsula. San Bruno consisted of a long, green ridge that looked squat from so high up. Sinuous lines of smoke trailed into the sky. The earthquake's devastation extended far out into the hills, likely into the San Joaquin Valley.

Leaning on the seat, Ingrid pressed the binoculars to her eyes. A tree sprang into her vision in such stark detail that she pulled away in surprise.

“These things are powerful!”

“Military grade. Not technically for civilian use,” noted Fenris.

“It's impressive how many things can fall off the back of a truck,” said Lee.

“I found people down there,” Cy said. “Took me a while. Fenris has eyes like a hawk.”

Whereas Ingrid had bleary eyes that had been sporadically blinded over the past hour, and it didn't help that the miasma tinted everything in blue. She found the coast and followed it along until she spied a road and some large vehicles. “Is that a modified Durendal?”

“Yes,” said Cy. “That model uses a hefty kermanite engine to haul logs or other heavy freight. There's a canvas over the back. If you look over to the right, there's a small airship.”

It was a small passenger craft, about the same size as the
Palmetto Bug,
but designed for direct ground landings. Large, rubber-lined wheels skirted the sides of the gondola. Blue energy lapped the craft as if it rested in a wading pool.

“Direct landers aren't that good,” muttered Fenris. “They crash easily. The tires often blow out on contact with anything sharp or hot and they're generally—”

“I'm not seeing anyone on the ground now,” said Cy. “Engine on the truck just started up. Whatever's on there isn't simply large, but heavy.” He glanced over at Ingrid. “That might be your missing kermanite.”

“You're both machinists. How long would it take to build a weapon that could use kermanite of that size? Mr. Sakaguchi thought it would take a large effort, maybe all the factories in Atlanta.”

“That's likely an exaggeration, but I reckon it depends on what you want to do with it. My question for you as a geomancer, Miss Ingrid, is how that kermanite could be filled so quickly.”

She pursed her lips. “It couldn't be. Not yet. Even if a dozen average geomancers crowded around to touch it during the earthquake that just happened, it would barely pour anything into a crystal of that size. It would be wasteful to hook it up to anything before it was filled, too.”

“Which means we're unanimous in that we have no idea what that is and how it works, but we know it or something
near it just destroyed San Francisco. Dandy,” said Fenris.

Ingrid's gaze panned back over to find the truck. The broad vehicle rattled down a narrow dirt road. Whatever it carried could definitely be the size of a horse, or larger. “It is leaving, which is good. Except . . .”

“Except what?” asked Lee.

“There's more involved here than the Thuggee weapon, than how animals have been acting for days, than Mr. Sakaguchi's namazu dying. I'd bet anything there's a Hidden One beneath the earth that's downright irritated. They don't calm down easily. There's one tale about a man climbing inside the shell of a Hidden One turtle and tickling it with a feather. The turtle convulsed later at the memory of the incident, causing more earthquakes.”

“Doesn't sound like these Hidden Ones are very hidden,” said Fenris.

“They usually are. Be on the lookout for any large fissures in the earth. We might actually be able to see something. Most sightings by natives along the Pacific Coast are from north of Sausalito and up as far as Vancouver.”

Fenris adjusted some toggles. The noise of the engine changed as the airship entered a vertical climb. Turbulence rocked the dirigible as a layer of cotton draped over the cockpit. Ingrid could barely see snippets of blue-tinted green through shifting bands of moisture.

“There. We're hidden for a bit. We need to make a choice here,” said Fenris. “What do we want to follow, the truck or the airship?”

“Airship.”

“Truck.”

Ingrid and Cy looked at each other.

“I don't know. Does this thing have guns or bombs we could use to stop them?” asked Lee as he stood.

Fenris scowled. “It's a Sprite class. It's not designed for heavy freight or weapons.” Lee sat down again, disappointed. “Hurry, people.”

“The man I overheard last night with Miss Rossi must have had an airship to get here this morning, and maybe he's still on board now,” said Ingrid. “Follow them and maybe we can see what they have planned next.”

“I'm guessing that the truck has the kermanite. If we have that, maybe we can prevent their next attack,” said Cy.