Wolf's-own: Koan Read Online Free PDF Page A

windowpane bisecting the too-sharp planes of his face. There wasn't even anything to see—just the weathered boards of the pier on which the inn sat, the water, and the suns in the sky—but Jacin watched some kind of inner landscape anyway, so it didn't seem to matter. Joori tried not to sigh, tried to just accept it and pretend at patience. Sometimes Jacin was just like this.
    It had been almost three months now since that horrible day and night. A whole new world had been opened to them, and then at least some of it presented in more tangible ways—a new land, new people, new lives. The grief and shock weren't quite as fresh. The scars were beginning to cover over all the past hurts for Joori. Still there but not so sharp, not so sensitive to the accidental touch anymore.
    Jacin's hurts didn't seem to be scarring over, or even scabbing. Jacin still seemed... raw.
    He wore a braid now. Only a small one, plaited neatly back from his left temple. Joori kept wanting to ask him why, but he was afraid of the answer he might get, so he didn't. He never offered to braid it for him, either.
    "They keep the traditions of the shrines here, Jacin, did you know that?” Joori didn't wait for an answer, because he knew he wouldn't get one. “Tougei's right across the bay, where it's said the Temshiel got the marble to build them. There's a temple in the city's center for each god, and then a whole great shrine for the ashes of—"
    He stopped himself. He probably didn't need to be going on about the dead right now.
    "Malick asked Morin yesterday if he'd want to go see Tougei. He said there are ferries just for people to go across and explore, but no one's allowed to actually live there but the priests. Sacred, and all."
    Joori might not have even been there, for all the reaction he got. Jacin just kept staring, that blank-empty thing that made the hairs at Joori's nape prickle and his stomach curl just a little. Joori looked down at his hand, at the scar across his palm that matched the one across Jacin's.
    "Please,” Joori whispered as he crouched down by Jacin's hip and set a hand to his knee. “Come back, Jacin. I want my brother back."
    Not a word, not a twitch, but Jacin's eyes slid shut, a suspicious glimmer catching the light at his lashes. It was abruptly difficult for Joori to swallow.
    It had seemed like Jacin had turned some kind of corner on the voyage here, come to a somewhat tranquil equilibrium, or at least calm acceptance. He'd still had his bleak days, but the lighter ones had outnumbered them, and Joori had hoped. And then they'd reached Mitsu, Tambalon's teeming capital, and the nightmares had hit and Jacin's “ghosts” had come back, his mind rebelling against contentment with vicious force, punishing him for things over which he'd never believe he didn't merit punishment. Now the days Joori was coming to think of as Jacin's Good Days were like heartbreaking teases, reminders of possibility that seemed to drift further and further from realistic hopes for the future with every spate of Jacin's Dark Days that stretched too long between them.
    Joori dragged in a long breath, followed the blank gaze out the window, and moved his hand to Jacin's shoulder. Jacin didn't flinch away, but that might have just been because he didn't even know Joori was there, so Joori didn't let it bolster the agony of hope. “It'll be all right, Jacin."
    Joori said that a lot. He couldn't think of anything better to say.
    * * * *
    This, Dakimo thought with a tight set to his mouth, was going to be interesting. Entertaining, perhaps. Irritating, most probably. But definitely interesting.
    He cleared his throat politely, waiting until Emika lifted her frown from the scrolls and missives littering her table, and tilted a slight bow. “Madame Governor. Kamen awaits you in the receiving room."
    "Kamen?” Emika lifted her eyebrows. “The summons was for Kamen and his....” She paused, glanced down at something on the table and then back