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[Continuing chapter 8]
“I am going ahead to tell him you are coming,” Katsumi said, quickening her pace. Hiroki felt a smile tugging his mouth; he couldn’t remember any woman, other than Lord Tanuma’s wife, who would have charged off this way without asking a man’s permission first. He said nothing to her as she left, and raised his hand to halt Shiro and Tetsuo and to forestall any comment from them.
“I suppose we wait here, then,” Tetsuo said once Katsumi had disappeared from view, sounding as if his day had just been ruined.
“Why not?” Hiroki asked. “It’s nice enough.” And it was: the trees were still bare, save for a scattering of pines just visible in the direction Katsumi had walked, but it was quiet, there was no wind to speak of, and instead of the stale acridity of the conflagrations of past months and years, this spot smelled of vegetation, of the slow wakening of forest kami, of the spring to come. “I don’t know about you two,” he added, “but I’m glad to be out of the city for a while.”
“Now you’re going to make me homesick for Kozuke,” Shiro said, and looked as if he meant it.
Hiroki hadn’t replied when Katsumi suddenly reappeared from behind a stand of bamboo. “Follow me,” she said. “And please keep your hands off your swords. He’s very nervous.”
“He’s right to be,” Tetsuo grumbled. “If I see a bow in that man’s hands, he and she are both dead.” Katsumi showed Hiroki no sign of having been offended by the remark, though he was sure she must have been.
“I’ll go first,” Hiroki said. More quietly he added, “Follow close behind me, Tetsuo, and by all means be prepared to draw quickly if you must.” Causing offense to her was impolite, but walking into an ambush unprepared was worse than stupid.
Katsumi led them to the overgrown grounds of a small shrine — or what was left of it — that was a complete mystery to Hiroki. As he stepped into the clearing from the trees it was immediately apparent to Hiroki that he and his companions were safe from any sort of evil intent. The man who waited for them, beside a small fire-pit, was unarmed and appeared scarcely able to stand upright, much less to attack anyone.
That he was rōnin was obvious: His hair and beard had grown out badly from a warrior’s shaved scalp and top-knot. He was of average height but looked smaller because he was so emaciated; what had once been well-muscled legs now resembled old ropes wrapped around a pair of sticks. His face was narrow, his nose almost knife-like; his eyes burned, but less with fervor than with fever.
Two swords and a bow were propped against the porch of the burned-out shrine, well out of reach of the man; the swords were sheathed and the bow was in a crude sort of case and no threat to anyone. Hiroki looked back from the weapons to their owner, and winced as he realized the state the man was in. I have been that hungry, he thought. It’s not a memory I treasure.
He began to bow, but the stranger interrupted him. “Please,” he said. “You do not owe me any courtesy.” Getting to his knees, the man continued, “This person is Inaba Michizane, a warrior unattached to anyone’s service. Please accept my … regrets … for the attack on your party. I was misled into what I did.”
Hiroki, startled, could only stare at the man. Not what I expected to hear.
“Misled?” The scorn in Shiro’s voice was unmistakable.
“The man who hired me to attack you said you were vassals, or allies, of my sworn enemy. I have just learned that this is not the case.”
“Your enemy? Who is that?” Tetsuo asked.
“The Hosokawa clan. And Hosokawa Takakuni in particular.”
“What?” Shiro’s outrage prompted a bird somewhere nearby to protest.
“We are from Kozuke Province,” Hiroki said. “The Hosokawa have no presence there. And not only do we not serve Takakuni, we have never met him. He is in Omi, and we are not. Could you tell me why, Inaba Michizane, you wish to kill the vassals or allies of the Hosokawa Takakuni?” He happened to glance at Katsumi as he asked this, and was surprised at the expression he saw on her face. It was concern, but not the concern of a lover or even that of a kept woman wondering about her supporter. It was — maternal was the word that came to him. This is a very interesting young woman, he decided.
“My father served a major vassal of the Hosokawa,” Inaba said. “And so did I. Until they killed my father and I swore an oath against them.” Inaba sank to the ground, as if he could no longer sustain the effort of remaining on his feet.
“It was in pursuit of that oath that I fired my bow at you.”
Shiro advanced on Inaba. “Who hired you, then? Tell us and we’ll let you live.”
“Not so dramatic, please,” Hiroki said. “Tell me, Inaba: when did you last eat?”
Inaba began to laugh. “I would have an easier time remembering who hired me,” he said when he had got himself back under control.
“Shiro,” Hiroki said, “I believe us to be only a few minutes away from the Hongan Temple. I want you to go there now and bring back some food and sake. We are going to feed this man before we talk further.”
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Chapter 7 Chapter 8
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