Chapter 25

The forest of Yalinamo stretched before them on the horizon; a dark green line beneath the blue, distant yet, though Never expected to reach the trees before nightfall. If strange, disappearing guards or the Three Hammers didn’t delay them. So far, the only people Never had passed on the eastern highway were travellers or merchants, most leading long wagon trains with extensions to carry piles of bamboo or other timber.

Ayuni had seemed more composed when they’d set out. He’d asked Muka to let her sleep through and now she was standing in her saddle, shading her eyes against the bright sun. “I think I see a road-side temple ahead. I’d like to visit it to pray.”

“Is that safe?” Never asked.

“Such temples are tiny – two rooms only, for travellers. I don’t think I’ve ever visited it... but if you think it’s too dangerous, I understand.”

He looked to Muka then back to Ayuni. “You two know the Temples better than I. What are the risks?”

“Communication between the temples is swift. At a stretch, it’s possible a roadside shrine like this will have means to communicate with Mondami or Yalinamo,” Muka said.

“You mean the opals?” Never asked.

“Yes. Though contrary to the rumours you may have heard, not every temple has them,” he said.

“All the divine temples and city temples do,” Ayuni said. “Many others also, but few road-side temples. They are too valuable to risk.”

Never untied his charm and handed it to her. “Just to be safe.”

“I will be swift,” she said.

When they reached the shrine, which was as she’d described, small, with a low roof and a statue of the Phoenix at the entrance, Ayuni ducked within. Never kept his hood raised and positioned Muka between himself and the windows. Perhaps an ineffective precaution if he’d already been marked but why invite trouble if he hadn’t? There was plenty of trouble around without him seeking it.

“What can we expect in Yalinamo?” Never asked Muka as he watched a tiny robin hop across the statue, pecking at insects as it did.

“It is similar to most Kiymako cities. The temples are a major force and the Isansho works with them more often as not. But Yalinamo folk are close to the forest and the hin that inhabit it.”

Hin. The word was familiar, hadn’t Hanael said it was like Marlosi for spirit? “How so?”

“Some people have contracts with the hin – in exchange for being fed, the hin will perform certain tasks for them. The task might be finding a lost item, helping a garden grow or even cleaning and other duties of the house.”

Never raised an eyebrow. “Cleaning? What are they being paid?”

“Lunai.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“They usually do not need much to perform their tasks – and without it, they wouldn’t be able to in any event. The Temple believes the hin are actually manifestations of excess lunai to begin with, and that centuries of human attention and interaction have given the hin some manner of sentience.”

“No-one has ever spoken of this to me before; I’m quite curious.”

“I believe in Hanik and Vadiya, people call the hin by another name and think of them only as children’s stories from ‘that strange island’ across the sea,” Muka said. He frowned a moment. “Fairies, I think is the word they say.”

“In Marlosa we have them too, and they are said to make the wheat ripen during harvest, but it is a tale for children.”

“Well, the hin are real, and no doubt you will see them,” Muka said.

Ayuni appeared in the doorway. She wore a serene expression now as she hurried across the road to return the fang. Did she truly feel better or was she hiding her pain? Doubtless she’d had to do so for most of her life. “The temple was empty.”

“Is that something we need to worry about?” Never asked.

“No, not all road-side temples are attended each day.”

“Someone from one of the villages probably visits,” Muka added.

Never slipped the fang over his head and hid it beneath his tunic before urging his horse forward once more. “Good. Let’s cover a little ground then, I want to reach Yalinamo or anywhere with hot food and a proper bed.”

The sun was starting its long dive when they finally reached the edge of the Yalinamo Forest. It reared up, a mighty wall of dark pine trees, needles still in the dying warmth of late afternoon. The road drove in straight and true, eventually lost in shadows at the limits of Never’s view.

And flanking the entry were two mighty trunks, their tops missing, standing like giant pillars. Even so, they still rose half a dozen storeys high and would have measured nearly as wide as a house.

“The Red Gates,” Muka said. “Said to have been cut and set in place by the Green God to welcome us to his abode. In myth, there were once arches of golden thread spun between them and any who climbed to the top was rewarded with an audience with him, where he would, if you were found worthy, grant you a single boon.”

“Had anyone climbed it?” Never asked.

“It is said that none could do so, for earthly hands were too coarse, earthly bodies too heavy. The arches broke one by one under the stubbornness of humanity until they were all gone and then no-one could try ever again.”

“Ah. Sad but unsurprising, I think.”

“Within, the highway will eventually turn north to Yalinamo. We have four, five days before we reach it.”

“And how many opportunities to be ambushed again?”

“Many. If the Hammers truly do know where we are then this will be a dangerous next few days,” Muka said.

“It might be a chance to lay a trap of our own,” Never said.

“Any ideas?” Muka asked as they rode between the trunks.

“Not yet but give me time.”

The air beneath the trees was cooler, the shade welcome, though patches of light were still plentiful as the trees did not clump together until further in. Now, on the edges of the forest, there were plenty of gaps between the large pines, fewer saplings and a heavy covering of old needles on the ground, smothering undergrowth.

The swift warbling of robins filled the branches as they rode.

“Peaceful,” Never said after a time.

Occasionally they passed branching trails, some faint, some well-used. Ayuni knew what lay at the end of each, be it village, ruin, or bamboo farm. “I used to see them through the bars of my window,” she said. “Once they told me which path led where, I would memorise them to make the trip seem faster.”

Before full dark they found a well-concealed campsite between the trees. The forest had grown steadily thicker as they travelled, enough that there was no clear line of sight from their camp and the highway.

All of which suited Never fine as he sifted through the greying ashes of an old campfire. A melted piece of steel caught in the shape of a horseshoe lay within, perhaps it had been a necklace once. He tossed it into the pine needles and started arranging twigs and smaller branches for their own fire.

“Tomorrow we can take a bed at the Blueberry Inn,” Muka said. “I know the owner, she will treat us well.”

“Will we place her in danger by staying there?” Ayuni asked. “I’ve not heard the Hammers to be careless, but I would still worry.”

“She is a strong woman, but I will warn her. Like you, I have only ever heard of the Hammers as being creatures of dread precision.”

Ayuni drew forth a pot and skillet ‒ part of the goods they’d been afforded by the generosity of Fuda ‒ and handed them to Never. “Get the pan hot; I think we have some eggs here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She waved a carrot at him, fixing Muka with a look too. “And this time you better let me do my share. I’ll take the first watch, no arguments.”

Never raised his hands and Muka offered his faint smile.