Ye Zi struggled to stand.
But his wounds were too severe. The moment he straightened his chest, the world spun around him, and he staggered backward.
Luckily, his flailing hands caught hold of something hard.
It was a black Bone Blade, polished from the thighbone of a Totem Beast, lodged diagonally in Uncle Missing Tooth's chest.
Ye Zi remembered that Uncle Missing Tooth was an accomplished player of reed pipes.
He could carefully select the broadest, softest leaves from the Mandala Tree, leaves covered in golden fuzz, and patiently roll them into reed pipes.
Then he would arrange pipes of varying lengths side by side, bring them to his lips, narrow his eyes, and play countless beautiful melodies.
Though he was missing a front tooth, making his speech whistle with air, and though he looked rather comical,
Uncle Missing Tooth's reed-pipe music could win over girls better than any sweet words.
Even the tune Ye Zi had played for An Jia on the night the mandalas bloomed had been taught to him by Uncle Missing Tooth.
But now, Uncle Missing Tooth was dead too.
Like every aged and feeble mousefolk.
Blood gurgled from Ye Zi's forehead and kept pouring back into his eyes.
He yanked the Bone Blade free with all his strength.
The Bone Blade was huge and heavy.
When this Totem Beast had been alive, it must have been a colossal creature over ten arm-lengths tall.
Its blade was also studded with toothlike pieces of metal, increasing its lethality.
Mousefolk had no right to use metal weapons.
In Turan tradition, metal weapons were condensed from the souls of ancestors, the most sacred gift Heaven bestowed upon Clan Warriors with glorious blood in their veins.
Mousefolk carrying the blood of the unclean, the cowardly, and traitors had no right