“A hundred percent.”
“Born from a mother?”
He nodded.
“You eat? You sleep? You…deposit the spirits’ gifts back into the ecosystem to be reused?”
“Excuse me?” he said.
Yumi was barely listening. Was it possible she’d gotten this wrong? Well, of course. She was, as has been established, exhausted, sore, overwhelmed. Not the best state of mind for logical thought.
She reflected on what had happened the night before: The spirit talking to her, saying it was trapped. Asking her to free it. It hadn’t sounded angry at her weakness. It had said, There is one who can help you.
“They sent you,” Yumi whispered. “They sent you to help me! The spirits are in danger. There are stories like this—great heroes tasked with quests by the spirits.” Her eyes widened. “They needed a boon from me. They needed my body? I couldn’t do what they needed, so they’ve put you in my place… Tell me, are you a great warrior among your kind? The people of the daystar?”
He considered a moment. Longer than she’d have predicted. He was humble, evidently. Finally he nodded. “Yes. I’m among the greatest.”
Her state made some sense then. The spirits had no substance until she called them. It stood to reason that in taking her form for this hero, they had given her a form as insubstantial as a spirit herself. She could feel her nightdress, but nothing else. Even the floor beneath her feet seemed to have no substance. She wasn’t certain how she walked or moved on it.
“My attendants will return soon, hopefully,” Yumi said. “Tell them what has happened.” She reached out absently to take his hand in supplication. “They will know how to help. Please, we must…” She trailed off as her hand touched his.
She felt an immediate shiver, like when she stepped into cool water—but heat followed. Warmth flooded her, moving up her fingers in a rush, accompanied by an almost electric tingling. It surged through her, overwhelming her, driving away all other thoughts, feelings, and sensations.
When she’d touched the blanket, she’d felt nothing. Not even a tingling as her fingers passed through. The same when her attendants had walked through her.
But this other effect was completely unexpected. She let go and jumped back, sucking in a breath, sweat prickling on her brow. He gaped at his hand, and his posture made it obvious he’d felt it too. A connection between her spirit and her body, perhaps? She found it difficult to speak for a moment, gasping for air—though without a body, that metaphor didn’t quite work. But when she looked at him, she felt like she was blushing all the way from her toes to the roots of her hair.
All right, she thought. Maybe don’t touch him. It is…distracting.
“That was crazy,” he said. “Touching you was like touching a raw hion line…”
She backed away, embarrassed. “Maybe,” she said, “I could go see what’s happening in the town? It’s possible that in my current state, I might be able to communicate with the spirits.”
“Sure. Um, I mean…a valiant suggestion.”
She nodded and hesitantly stepped out of the wagon. She had slept barefoot and was worried about not having clogs, but her feet didn’t feel the ground’s heat. Only a yard past the door, however, she felt a sudden pulling sensation. She was unable to move any farther, as if she was tethered to him. She backed up, then tried running to escape the pull—but when she hit the edge of it she was yanked backward, as if on an elastic rope.
She spun and stumbled into the wagon. He stepped forward as if to catch her, and her chest brushed against his.
That warmth flooded her again, radiating deep into her core. With a yelp, she managed to leap away, then fell to the floor. Having no body, it didn’t hurt, but her blush was hotter this time. Celibacy was a fact of a yoki-hijo’s life, naturally. And she was very much in control of that aspect of her emotions. Absolutely in control. Yes indeed.
She was rescued from her embarrassment as a severe figure stepped up to the door of her wagon, which was still swinging open. Liyun wore yellow on black today, as was the ritual for the fourth day of the month. As usual, she didn’t appear angry. One did not speak in anger to a yoki-hijo.
Besides, Liyun was expert at expressing emotions without speaking them.
“I hear, Chosen,” she said, leaving her clogs and swooping up onto the floor of the wagon, “that you have, in your wisdom, decided to violate ritual today.” She walked past Yumi, in a heap on the floor.
“Oh,” the hero said. “Right. So, I’m supposed to tell you that I’m not who you think I am. I’m a hero, er, that the spirits brought? Look, my home is on that star out there, a place where the light is normal? Teal and magenta? Not…whatever is out there.”
Yumi crawled on her knees to Liyun, then stumbled to her feet and nodded eagerly. Surely the warden would know how to approach this. Surely she could help the two of them understand what the spirits wanted.
“You realize,” Liyun said softly, “that a Chosen must continue to serve, even through personal difficulties.”
“Sure?” the hero said. “I guess?”
“If a Chosen,” Liyun continued, “were to try to escape her duties through fabricated nonsense…why, it would only make life harder for her. And for everyone. The guilt of such lies would eventually tear her apart within.” Liyun bowed her head, as if in subservience. “Chosen. I apologize for my boldness in explaining to you that which you already know quite well.”
Yumi sank back to her knees, a sick lump in her throat. That was…that was exactly what she should have expected from Liyun. If she’d been less out of sorts, she would have realized that sooner.
“I see,” the hero said. He thought a moment, then he…posed? With arms folded? Did he think that looked dramatic when he was wearing a nightgown? “I don’t think you are taking me seriously enough. I—”
“Please,” Yumi said, interrupting. “Please, hero. My previous plan was flawed. Just…just go along with what she is saying.”
He frowned, glancing at Yumi.
“Liyun,” Yumi said, “will never believe that I, of all yoki-hijo, was blessed in this way by the spirits. Just…for now, could you do as I say?”
“Who is she?” he asked.
“My head servant.”
He seemed skeptical about that. Liyun, who had only heard his part of that conversation, opened her mouth to offer another passive-aggressive piece of “advice.” Yumi spoke first.
“Tell her this: ‘I am sorry, Warden-nimi. I felt remnants of a dream, and was speaking according to them. By overtaxing myself yesterday, I’ve left myself weakened, as your wise counsel indicated. Forgive my indiscretions.’？”
He reluctantly repeated the words, cutting Liyun off.
The warden fell silent, studying him.
“Kneel,” Yumi whispered. “Please? And bow your head? I know it’s not very heroic, but…”
He obeyed, doing as she asked.
“Then shall I order the rituals to continue?” Liyun said. “Without interruption? It is, of course, your prerogative, Chosen.”