Breath of Earth Read Online Free PDF Page B

he always conducted his business with brusqueness.
    An assistant poured fresh seeds into the bin. Mustiness fogged the air. Dr. Hatsumi began work on Ingrid.
    Reiki magic was one of Japan’s many contributions to everyday American life. Its culture had infused society since the Unified Pacific had formed some forty years before during the brief War Between the States. Back then, Japanese airship technology had granted Union forces a quick victory over the Confederacy. The partnership had only grown stronger in recent years. Over a million Japanese citizens—mostly engineers of unparalleled skill—had moved to America’s shores, though their native isles still abounded with billions of peoplein need of land. Hence the need to clear China for settlement.
    In truth, America’s contributions were milder, but vital—California contained kermanite, and the nation offered bountiful young men to serve in the Unified Pacific’s armed forces.
    With sinuous motions, the Reiki doctor drew inherent life from the seeds and directed energy into Ingrid’s ki. Seeing auras was a rare skill for geomancers, but all Reiki doctors were said to see colors as they tugged on strings of life.
    Ingrid gripped the thin mat on the wooden platform. Little earthquakes had continued since she was pulled from the rubble. A gauzy blue fog drifted across the floor. Ingrid looked to the pendulum light overhead and noted a smidgen of sway. With so many geomancers nearby, it was rare for a trembler to cause a physical reaction.
    Pain spiked in her back again, and she muffled a yelp.
    She couldn’t see the magic of Reiki, but she felt it like a dry electric spark in the air. No power existed in a vacuum. Reiki relied on the power of life to heal life, just as any geomancer relied on the roiling strength of the earth. Hatsumi was properly licensed, and used seeds and plants. Less reputable practitioners were more potent and bloody, and yanked life from chickens, dogs, cats, or even worse, other humans. Willing or otherwise.
    â€œStill!” Dr. Hatsumi barked. His accent was thick, even in one word. Quite different from Mr. Sakaguchi, who had an almost aristocratic British lilt from his early years as a warden in Europe.
    Ingrid pressed herself impossibly deeper into the mat. Cool tendrils radiated from the cut in her back. The wound smarted something fierce.
    The sight of the auxiliary had hurt far more than her injury. Its three floors had dropped into the basement, creating a mound that seemed scarcely higher than the street. She knew that the ground beneath the building and much of downtown San Francisco was considered “made,” filled in with old rubble and other dirt to stabilize it enough to build on. In an earthquake zone, that generally wasn’t wise, as a severe tremor could liquefy the unstable ground. However, that also meant that the earth was a potent conductor—ideal for the wardens, and for the boys in training.
    With wardens present, made ground was safe. The city existed as it did because of the auxiliary.
    The doctor’s grunt signaled that her time on the table was done. She pushed herself upright, a blanket pressed against her chest, but the two men had already filed out and shut the door behind them. Her movement sent a mild stab of pain through her back. Reiki by plants didn’t heal wounds completely, but it quickened the process. Within a few days, she expected to feel normal. Normal as one could be, after being buried alive.
    She shuddered at the memory. Whose hand had been there, draped above her bubble? Had it belonged to a warden or an adept? She shoved the terrible image from her mind.
    The earth shivered again as her feet met the blue-fogged ground. Warmth flooded her feet, her legs, and whirled into a cozy knot in her torso. She welcomed the heat, her eyes closing briefly in bliss. Within seconds, the trembling stopped.
    Her clothes were bloodied and torn, but decent enough