The beginning of their journey to Amigawa was quiet. The woods near Harato’s house felt familiar, even though Yipachai hadn’t gone this far west of the smithy before. Pine trees intermingled with deciduous ones, while birds chirped and chittered amidst the branches of both. They even saw a couple of the snakes that Harato was always worried about—grayish brown serpents with faint markings along their spines that Takamoto insisted were venomous.

  Not long after setting off, the footpath widened into something more resembling a road. The cart and Takamoto’s buffalo fit comfortably on it, with space for Yipachai to walk alongside. Takamoto led, and Yipachai often found himself staring at the man’s topknot, its tail swinging slightly with every step. Despite the fact that the rest of the Banqilun’s head was shaved, Yipachai couldn’t help but wonder at how long that hair was.

  He ran a finger through the growth on his own head, still amazed at how much hair he had after just a few weeks of not shaving. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had more than stubble. It would have been before he had been deposited on Elder Satsanan’s doorstep as a four year old.

  After they had walked for what was probably a couple of hours, Takamoto turned back and called for a stop for lunch. Yipachai moved off to the side of the small road to let the other man pass and start rummaging around through the packs and bags in the cart. It didn’t take them long to finish off the few pieces of dried fish and stale rice that Takamoto found.

  Once their meal was finished, Takamoto again reached into a bag and produced a small bamboo box.

  “Tea?” he asked, removing the lid. Inside was a small clay kettle and two even smaller cups that looked to have been carved out of some kind of dark wood. Next to those was a fabric pouch of something fragrant.

  Yipachai had never tasted the famous Banqilun beverage. Apparently only they knew how to grow it in the western mountains. He never understood why the Het Kingdom had never tried to grow some in the Dawnfangs to the east. Apparently those mountains were more jagged and rocky. Either way, foreign delicacies didn’t often make their way to the mouths of monastery boys.

  “Sure, I’ll try some,” Yipachai said. He was a monastery boy no longer.

  Takamoto smiled and produced two pinches of crusty black leaves from the pouch, which he then put in the kettle. After filling it with water from his canteen, he pulled a l’anti wand from his belt and tapped the bottom of the kettle. So fast that Yipachai barely saw it, the tip of the wand flashed bright green. Then, after just a moment, steam snaked up and out of the mouth of the kettle.

  The Banqilun set the kettle and cups on the edge of the cart, then sighed and looked off, studying the woods with a contented look on his face.

  “Is that it?” Yipachai asked, confused. “Is it ready?”

  “No, no. You have to let it steep for a few minutes.”

  “Oh.” Yipachai hadn’t expected it to be the same process that the herbal healers used to mix their remedies.

  Takamoto seemed content to wait for the tea in silence, so Yipachai turned his attention to the woods. He could sense Pingou out there, somewhat behind him. An image of the heron looking out of place in the forest came unbidden to Yipachai’s mind. He stifled a chuckle.

  After a few minutes, Takamoto poured the tea, filling both of the little cups to the brim and then dumping them out. “First, for the mhonglun.” Then he refilled the cups, though not quite so full this time. “Second, for us.” He handed Yipachai a cup.

  “Hot!” Yipachai fumbled the cup, trying not to spill any as he set it down on the edge of the cart.

  Takamoto laughed. “Thin-skinned Hetanzou. I forgot about that.” He didn’t seem to have any trouble holding onto his cup. In fact, he had his palms wrapped all the way around the thing, as if he was actually enjoying the warmth.

  Seeing how tiny the cup looked in Takamoto’s hands, Yipachai suddenly felt very small. He had gotten used to Banqilun height during his time staying at Harato’s, but every so often, something like this reminded him just how much taller they were. Both men towered over Yipachai, making him feel like a child.

  “So,” Takamoto said, “what are your plans for that sword? I didn’t think you Het used them for much outside of war.”

  It was an honest question. But for some reason, it caught Yipachai off guard. Takamoto hadn’t done anything to cause him to believe the Banqilun man had any kind of ill intentions, but there was still a part of Yipachai that didn’t trust him fully. At least not yet.

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  Even so, Takamoto’s question was a fair one, and Yipachai didn’t have much reason for secrecy. He owed the man something. “I want to join one of the dueling schools in Amigawa.”

  The Banqilun cocked his head, setting his topknot to swinging. “Oh? Are you training for a duel with someone?”

  That question hit a little too close to the truth.

  “No,” Yipachai said quickly. “It’s just…something I need to do.”

  Takamoto pursed his lips, but thankfully didn’t pry. “I see. And this thing that you need to do…can only be done with a sword?” He paused and drew his l’anti wand. “And you’re sure Lan Banti wouldn’t be a more effective tool?”

  Yipachai shrugged, then shook his head. “I’ve never had much of a mind for it. But I’ve been practicing sword forms a bit these last few weeks during my breaks, and…I don’t know, it just feels like it makes more sense.”

  Not to mention how Elder Satsanan had felt about using Lan Banti. A gift to be used in purity, and with thanksgiving. Certainly not for dueling, and absolutely not for killing bandits like Mangsut.

  It was Takamoto’s turn to shrug, though he paired it with that characteristic, good-natured smile of his. “You Het sure are an odd bunch.”

  Despite himself, Yipachai smiled back. Perhaps Takamoto really was as genuine as he seemed.

  After finishing their tea and packing up the tea set, they set off once more, pausing only once to water the buffalo. They saw no other travelers as they went. Apparently there were only a few other villages along the road past Harato’s house, but they were quite a distance away and didn’t come down out of the foothills very often.

  The warm day eventually turned into a humid evening, to the point that Yipachai was certain he would always have at least one mosquito somewhere on his sweat-covered body at all times.

  When the sun finally started to set, a squawk above them made him jump.

  What is it? Yipachai asked Pingou. Trouble?

  There are lights in the distance, Pingou said, flying on ahead. And rice paddies. Food.

  “Pingou says we’re almost there,” Yipachai said.

  Takamoto, who had been looking for the source of the call and shielding his eyes with a hand, simply nodded. “Indeed we are. We’ll be able to rest soon, so long as all the festivities are finished.”

  “Festivities?”

  “Aye. Just a small celebration. It should be over before we arrive, though.” For some reason, a disapproving look came over Takamoto’s face—something Yipachai hadn’t seen before.

  But if the Banqilun didn’t want to speak about it further, Yipachai wouldn’t pester him. Takamoto had shown him the same respect, after all.

  So on they went, the woods thinning slightly until they came to the first rice fields. Pingou stalked through one, hunting for frogs and insects. Yipachai felt the heron’s excitement through the bond at catching his first meal since the morning.

  Just ahead of them, Yipachai could see the steady lights of Lan Banti illuminating a sizable village. Several steep-roofed wooden houses—much like Harato’s—clumped together along the main road before splitting off into a few side streets. Even from a distance, he could tell that whatever merrymaking the people had begun, it wasn’t finished yet. Music carried to Yipachai’s ears before they drew even with the first houses, along with the joyful voices of people.

  “What is all this?” Yipachai finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. They passed a group of three Banqilun women dressed in simple clothing, their skin that same dark brown as Takamoto’s and Harato’s. Each had her hair long and tied back by a single ribbon—two with that common, mossy green shade of hair, while one had locks of a brilliant gold. Yipachai caught himself staring. All three of them were tall and willowy, so that Yipachai had to look up to them. What kind of land was this where even the women were towering giants?

  “I was hoping they’d be finished before we arrived,” Takamoto said. He greeted the women politely, but hurried on. As much as he could while leading a buffalo and a cart, anyway.

  “Finished with what?”

  Takamoto sighed and ducked under a string tied with red and blue tassels that had been strung between the eaves of two houses. “My nephew’s coming of age ceremony. They’ll celebrate hard today, then send him off to Amigawa in the morning to start training at the School of Heavenly Flame.”

  Yipachai’s ears perked up. Another boy around his age who was also going to the city to join one of the schools? The thought of having some connection in Amigawa was a comforting one. But based on Takamoto’s mood, it was probably best not to let his enthusiasm show.

  “He’s leaving tomorrow…but you don’t want him to go?”

  Takamoto nodded and steered the buffalo down a side street. “I tried to convince him. And his parents. But they didn’t listen.” The Banqilun paused to turn back and regard the sword on Yipachai’s hip. “I’m sure your purposes for going to study dueling are all well and good, but Karu has always had a bit too much of the Fire in him for his own good. I worry about what will become of him in such a…competitive environment.”

  “What do you mean?” Yipachai asked, suddenly uncomfortable. Despite what he had said, it felt a little like Takamoto disapproved of anyone going to the dueling schools.

  “Just that some of those disciples at the schools, or at least many of the ones that become masters, get consumed by it. Competitions between schools, earning greater titles, becomes their life’s work. They forget where they came from. They forget that dueling is just a tiny piece of life for the rest of us out here.”

  Yipachai deflated. Takamoto’s words were so earnest. And they grated against his own reasons for going to the dueling schools. Yipachai didn’t care so much about earning titles or glory, but he was still so sure that learning the sword would be the answer to his problems. Learning to fight and taking that knowledge to dispense justice against Mangsut and his crew had to be the only way to quiet that gnawing ache in his heart. Justice had to be done.

  “So…do you think we might run into Karu in the city?”

  Takamoto shook his head. “It’ll be sooner than that, I’m afraid. He’s coming with us.”

  “And,” Yipachai said, “is that such a bad thing?”

  “I suppose we’ll see in the morning. Come now, let’s turn in before they try to make us dance.”