Endsinger (The Lotus War #3)

“Apparently not.”


“He is destined for great things, Shateigashira. The son of Kioshi will rise to heights his father never dreamed of. The Chamber of Smoke speaks no lie.”

“Then you have nothing to fear.” Kensai turned to the door. “Bring him in.”

Daichi watched another Lotusman enter the room, a slow, steady march with hands clasped before it. The suit marked it a member of the Artificer Sect—the engineers and technicians who designed the Guild’s mechanical marvels. Ornate filigree decorated the brass, a pattern that put Daichi in mind of swirling smoke.

“Second Bloom,” said the newcomer, bowing low.

Daichi’s heart skipped, fingers curling into fists. Even behind the mask, he’d have recognized that voice anywhere. The boy he’d trusted. The boy who’d handed him over to these dogs to be beaten and burned.

“Kin-san.” The little man in black returned the bow.

“Kin-san, is it?” Kensai growled. “Your father Kioshi gave you his name when he died. An honorable son would bear it with pride.”

“The venerable First Bloom has promoted our young brother to Fifth Bloom after bringing this Kagé dog to justice, Shateigashira,” said the little man. “It is surely within you to acknowledge he has earned his own name.”

Daichi lunged upright, cracking lips drawn back from his teeth, chains snapping taut.

“You godsless traitor,” he spat at the boy. “Enma-ō damn y—”

A Lotusman’s palm caught him full in the face, rocked him back with loosened teeth. Firm hands clamped down on his arms, mechanized strength pinning him still.

Not once did Kin glance in his direction.

“You sent for me, Second Bloom?” the boy asked. “What is your command?”

“The Inquisition have reviewed the information you gathered whilst on your … sojourn amongst the Kagé. It has been decided further questioning of this one”—a gesture in Daichi’s direction—“is unnecessary. You have already given us the location of the rebel encampment. Numbers and disposition. Assets and strength.”

“I seek only to atone for past mistakes,” Kin said. “If my knowledge aids in bringing the Kagé dogs to justice, I consider the time I … wandered well-spent. The lotus must bloom.”

“The lotus must bloom.” Pale smoke escaped from the little man’s breather.

“Indeed.” Kensai seemed unimpressed. “With that in mind, it has been decided to liquidate this prisoner immediately.”

Daichi grit his teeth, fought down a rush of fear. He coughed, sudden and violent, swallowing thick. Stilling himself, he fixed his eyes on the floor.

Here? In this pit?

“If you are certain, Second Bloom…” Kin’s voice drifted off into silence.

“And why would I not be?”

For the first time since entering the room, the boy looked at Daichi. The mechabacus on his chest clicked and skittered, counting beads shifting back and forth across their relays with timepiece precision, ticking down one second at a time toward Daichi’s murder.

“I always pictured a public execution,” Kin said. “To show the skinless the price of defying us.”

“The opinions of the skinless are not your concern. The commands of First Bloom are.”

“As you say, Second Bloom.”

Silence descended, tinged by metallic breath, the burnished pulses of the skins these monsters coiled inside. Daichi strained against his manacles, earning nothing but more purple on his wrists and another slap from the Guildsman beside him.

“Then you will forgive me, Shateigashira,” Kin spoke carefully. “But why did you call me here? I do not care whether this rebel lives or d—”

“Because you are to be his executioner. Kin-san.”

Kensai reached into his belt, produced an ugly fistful of pipes and nozzles. Daichi had only seen a device like it once before, but he’d witnessed the damage it could wreak on ō-yoroi armor and the meat beneath.

An iron-thrower.

“You wish me to—”

“I do, Kin-san,” Kensai said. “I wish you to kill this man.”

“… Here?”

“Now.”

The boy seemed frozen, the breath in his bellows falling still. Daichi thought of his daughter, Kaori—all her fire and fury, those beautiful steel-gray eyes so like his own. The knife scar cutting across her features, the blow from a madman’s hand that set his feet upon this path so many years ago. To think this was where it ended. That this was the sound of his funeral hymn. The clank and groan of retching machines …

Kin was staring at the iron-thrower in Kensai’s hand.

“I…”

Daichi’s lips peeled back in a snarl as Kin’s voice faltered.

“Coward,” he hissed. “How did you muster the courage to kill Isao and the others? Did you face them down or stab them in the back? Izanagi curse me a fool for thinking you’d have the strength to do what’s right. You even lack the courage to face a man as you end him.”

Kin looked at him, hands becoming fists.