Chapter 12
‘And then what did you do?’ Torako said, studying his student more intently than usual.
‘I did nothing, Master,’ Harrow said. ‘The mercenary activated a set of electric runes on his arrow. That was enough to tip the balance of positive and negative polarities over the edge and summon a lightning bolt. It descended and pierced his chest.’
‘I see. Very ingenious.’ The instructor wasn’t smiling. ‘Your rapid development is really becoming quite problematic.’
Harrow frowned, seeming unsettled. Was he expecting praise? Jorra thought, sharing a stern glance with Torako. The three were gathered inside his greenhouse, and Jorra had had to move some of the potion stands on his table out of the way for a stack of documents.
‘Respectfully, Master,’ Harrow said slowly. ‘I’m afraid I don’t see the problem here.’
‘Growth without restraint can be more dangerous to a shinobi than any opponent you face,’ Torako said. ‘And yet, you have progressed your skill with the Yamayubi to a level where I have no choice but to continue teaching you more advanced techniques for your own safety.’
‘I don’t understand. Do you believe me to lack restraint, Master?’
Torako bit his lip, and Jorra spoke up.
‘Harrow, I’ve been making note of this for a while,’ he said, tapping his claws together quietly. ‘You’ve been activated for duty for nearly eight years now, and as I look at the mission reports you’ve accumulated over time, I’ve observed two rather disturbing trends.
‘First is a lack of regard for your personal safety. This trait you share with Ambarro, and it only gets worse when you two are paired together for field work. You have a mission injury rate far higher than that of most other kits your age. This might not be entirely your fault – there have been times where your unique background put you into situations those kits would never have found themselves in, such as when the village uses your elven appearance to our advantage in undercover work. But it is for precisely this reason that you should not have been as reckless as you have been.’
‘The moment you noticed that the mercenaries occupying the fort were not the usual warlords, you should have retreated and reported back to the village. Failing that, your team should at least have taken one or two days to observe the enemy before choosing to engage,’ Torako spoke up as Jorra turned to take a file from the pile of documents on his table. ‘Furthermore, the fact that you used the Yamayubi via physically touching your target, knowing full well the risks, has given me cause to seriously question your judgement.’
Harrow’s frown deepened. ‘Master, the method I devised is completely risk-free. As long as I keep the polarity I infuse into the target below the tipping point of dielectric breakdown, the Finger of the Mountain will not descend.’
‘Oh? What if the target chooses to use his own Shock spells in the few moments you remain in contact with him? What if your estimation of the positive-negative balance was off?’ Torako snapped. ‘Nothing is risk-free, the Yamayubi even less so.’
There was silence for a few moments, then Jorra continued, his voice hardening.
‘The second trend,’ he said, the corners of his mouth turning downwards. ‘Is a more recent one. A lack of regard for the lives of innocent bystanders.’
Harrow said nothing.
‘When you assassinated Lord Gerard Rousseau in High Rock, your mission report states that you disguised yourself as a handmaiden named Yvonne in order to lure the target to bed alone. You failed to mention, however, that Lady Yvonne was an actual person.’
‘Is she-’
‘“Lady Yvonne” were seen entering the bedroom with Lord Rousseau by no less than six witnesses, two hours before his body was found. You left Lady Yvonne’s hairpin sticking out from the target’s skull. You then exited the Altamonte mansion through the front door, still in Lady Yvonne’s dress.’
‘I take it she is being held responsible?’
‘What did you think was going to happen? The Breton high court is crying for blood. The Rousseaus are a respected family in High Rock and the Empire isn’t going to intervene. They can’t simply step in and reveal that they had arranged for the assassination of a nobleman.’
‘They could produce evidence of the conspiracy-’
‘Which would then reveal the presence of the Penitus Oculatus agents that they had imbedded inside the Breton nobility, defeating the entire purpose of using Shadeclaws in the first place!’ Torako threw up his arms, exasperated.
‘Then,’ Harrow said indifferently. ‘I suppose the handmaiden will have to take the fall.’
A curiously overwhelming sense of grief took over Jorra when he locked eyes with the kit and saw the absolute lack of remorse inside them.
‘Almost eight years ago,’ he said softly. ‘I saw a boy make his first kill, taking the utmost care to ensure that his target felt nothing. A month later, I saw the boy return to the village tormented by guilt, the blood of a father and son still fresh on his hands. Where is that boy now? I want to see him again.’
It was a while before Harrow answered.
‘Almost eight years ago’ he said, not quite as softly. ‘I wasted half of my Magicka reserves to completely disintegrate my target’s brain for a painless death. A month later, I made a critical mistake by lingering inside enemy territory after my kill and allowing a familiar voice to distract me. After that… I trained more, and underwent Rendanshu, and I’ve killed and killed and killed and killed… Jorra, I’ve killed that boy long ago.’
‘Harrow…’ Jorra began, then found he didn’t quite know what to say next. All his life, we’ve taught him to fit into the village. Taught him to be one of us, that he was one of us.
Well, now he really is a shinobi through and through, he thought bitterly. And I’m the odd one out.
‘Tsukikage does not target innocents.’
The first rule of the Shadeclaws. For the longest time, he had thought that it meant just that – that innocent lives were off-limits, that the civilians of the outside world were safe from the shinobi. Only recently had he begun to realise that, for the others in the village, the phrase worked the other way around.
‘Tsukikage does not target innocents.’ Five words that allow a shinobi to justify anything.
‘Tsukikage does not target innocents – therefore, everyone we kill had it coming.’
‘Tsukikage does not target innocents – so woe betide any who get in our way.’
He hated it, hated every bit of that backward logic, hated how cheap life was valued among this people. His people. But perhaps it only makes sense. We even treat our own bodies as a means to an end. It’s not that much further of a stretch to treating the lives of others as such.
Torako was tilting his head at him, concerned. Jorra had no doubt that he knew what was going through his head. After all, they had been classmates, and even then Torako always had great insight into people’s minds.
‘Jorra-jo,’ he said quietly. ‘If you need a moment…’
‘You can handle the rest from here, Torako-jo.’ Jorra stepped towards the door. ‘I need some air.’
It was much colder outside of the glass garden.
I was never much good at reconciling myself with shinobi principles.
Jorra took a deep breath, feeling the mountain winds cool his lungs.
I’m sorry, Arngrimur, so very sorry. I promised to look after your son, and I did the best I could… but I know you wouldn’t have wanted this life for him. I know… because I don’t, either. What kind of man might he have grown up to be without our corrosive influence? He would’ve at least had a chance to know the Nord honour you so often displayed – but it doesn’t exist, not here, not to us. Ah, what use is it to wax eloquent of the future he could’ve led? We perverted all of it, his body, his mind, and a few weeks from now, we’ll be taking his soul as well.
His soul… Jorra shook his head. For eighteen years we’ve kept him, trained him, modified his body and tempered his spirit, turning an innocent little boy into a killer and a prostitute. He knew that most other cultures viewed the word as an insult, but to Shadeclaws all it signified was a person possessing… a particular set of skills. After their success with Larethor, Bengakhi himself had decided to make the most of the elven shinobi’s advantage. The year Harrow turned fifteen, he’d received special permission to train – undercover, of course – at the Chapel of Dibella in Anvil. Jorra wasn’t sure how the advisor had managed to convince the High Priestess to take a boy. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to know. After spending almost a month with the priestesses as a novitiate, Bengakhi had authorised his transfer to a brothel in the dock city, secretly an intel-gathering outpost run by Shadeclaw operatives, for ‘practical instruction’ under one Master Haruka. After only three months, she’d sent him back with full marks – and, as a footnote, reported a five percent increase in weekly profit.
While Jorra was worried with Harrow’s worsening disregard for collateral damage, he did not take issue with seduction as a tactic personally. I suppose some Shadeclaw principles must have stuck to me, at least. But the thought of what Arn would say seeing his son like this filled him with so much guilt he felt his heart would break.
And soon... we’re going to keep him from you forever, Jorra thought, feeling his breath catch in his throat. Wherever you are.
He would’ve begged for forgiveness, but Arngrimur and Valesse were long dead. What right do I have to ask for forgiveness, anyway? Jorra smiled, sour acceptance flooding him. I’m a shinobi!
‘Well, then, I’m not going to ask anything,’ he whispered aloud. ‘You entrusted this child to us, Arn, so you must have expected us to raise him our way, not yours. And no matter how much of a bad taste it leaves in your mouth, old friend, I can at least promise you this: your son will always survive.’
Harrow stared at the door to the greenhouse. Jorra hadn’t closed it on his way out, and snow was billowing in.
Torako coughed. ‘Remember to close the door after your senior? We can’t have Jorra-jo’s plants getting damaged.’
Stirring, Harrow moved to shut the door, and the spellwork laced inside the floor and ceiling of the sealed glass garden brought the temperature back up almost immediately.
‘Master, is he…’
‘All right?’ Torako raised his eyebrows. ‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t think he ever will be. Your old caretaker is a far gentler soul than any of us. You know as well as I do that in all his long years as a shinobi, even during the violence of the last war, he has never, ever killed. I can only admire such individual devotion to personal belief, and even more so his ability to still execute his missions better than most of our order, but…’
The instructor sighed. ‘He should not have been born into the Shadeclaws. He would have led a happier life. In a way, kit, Jorra-jo is even lonelier than you once were.’
Harrow frowned, troubled, then nodded determinedly. ‘I’ll go and make him some tea after we’re done, Master. It seems like years since we last talked at length.’
‘He would like that… Emperor Mede’s request has left the village busier than ever. Everyone’s workload has quadrupled. It’s even worse for the kits, I’d wager, since you’re all having to train at the same time,’ Torako said, a note of tiredness entering his voice before he straightened and rubbed his hands energetically. ‘But I’m not letting you go just yet. There’s still one thing I have to teach you – or at least inform you enough about for you to avoid it.’
‘Master?’
Torako’s tone grew deadly serious. ‘I’m only doing this because, with your current skill in lightning manipulation, you could stumble onto this technique via experimentation without me ever telling you about it. And that would prove disastrous.’
Harrow waited for his teacher to explain, his frown deepening.
‘The technique I am speaking of,’ Torako said slowly. ‘Is an Akaviri variation of the Finger of the Mountain known as the Raizuki.’
‘Thunder’s… thrust?’ Harrow tapped his chin.
‘That’s the direct translation, yes,’ Torako nodded in approval. ‘Good to see you’ve kept up your Eastern Akaviri.’
‘And what exactly is this variation, Master?’
‘Before I tell you,’ Torako said, becoming grave. ‘I would have you know that any usage of this technique is currently forbidden.’
‘Forbidden even by shinobi standards?’ Harrow’s eyes widened and he suppressed a gasp.
‘Even then.’ Torako took a deep breath. ‘The Raizuki is a variant of the original Yamayubi that simplifies the spellcasting process and allows far greater accuracy. Instead of shifting positive-negative polarities between the sky and the earth, the caster instead shifts the polarity between the intended target... and his own forearm and palm.’
Harrow’s expression sharpened. ‘Using an electric charge in my own hand to actuate the lightning bolt?’
Torako did not like the way his student said ‘my own hand’.
‘Yes,’ he continued carefully. ‘It is far simpler, because a practitioner experiences much greater ease in shifting the particles that conduct electric charges if they are physically in contact with the object, as you have already experienced yourself. The Raizuki is also far more accurate because of this-’
‘-since I can focus solely on the target, allowing me to use my eyes and aim! The range of the Yamayubi would also be extended drastically, to any focal point of my vision, far beyond the mere twenty or so feet that even you, Master, could only manage!’ Harrow finished excitedly. ‘Of course! Why didn’t I think of-’
Torako cleared his throat. The kit blushed, then straightened his back and bowed deep. ‘Apologies for the interruption, Master.’
‘I’m more concerned that you keep referring to the caster of the Raizuki in the first person,’ Torako snapped. ‘Don’t you understand why it is forbidden? Recall your lessons and your readings in electrical conductivity. The Yamayubi is only so powerful because it is true lightning unleashed. Without Magicka to contain it, the electricity would fan out and introduce a lethal charge to any nearby conductive materials. So, at the very moment of its birth, what is the closest conductor to the lightning bolt?’
Blood drained from Harrow’s face as he finally understood. ‘Myself.’
‘Exactly,’ Torako said quietly. ‘Yamayubi: Raizuki is a suicide technique.’
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*runs away