Iida’s eyes appraised her, and she sensed his interest and his desire.

“Please sit up, Lady Maruyama. I am so delighted to see you again.”

He was far more courteous than his underling: he was the eldest son of an ancient family and had been trained in such things since childhood; furthermore, he was acquainted with all the different forms of human interaction and used courtesy as he used cruelty-to further his own ends and for his own gratification. Yet the courteous words sounded incongruous in his harsh Eastern accent, and she was neither flattered nor disarmed.

“It is of course with the greatest pleasure that I come to Inuyama,” she replied. “I am so grateful to Lord Iida and Lady Iida for their care of my daughter.”

“She seems to be a healthy girl; and growing up so fast, though she cannot compare to her mother in beauty.”

She made no response beyond bowing again to acknowledge the compliment.

Iida went on. “I hope you will honor us with your presence for many weeks.”

“Lord Iida’s kindness is extreme. However, I must return fairly soon to Maruyama, as I have matters to attend to there. The anniversary of my father’s death is approaching, among other obligations.”

He said nothing but continued to watch her with a look of veiled amusement.

He knows about Shigeru, she thought, and felt the blood drain from her face as her heart thumped. But she showed nothing of her fears, simply waited composedly for him to speak again, reminding herself that it was one of his strategies to pretend to know everything about people until they broke down and confessed to far more than he suspected, condemning themselves out of their own mouths.

He finally broke the silence. “What news do you bring me from the West? I suppose you stopped at Noguchi. I hope Noguchi is keeping Arai under control.”

“Lord Arai is one of Lord Noguchi’s most trusted retainers now,” she replied.

“And what do you hear of the Otori?”

“Very little. I have not even set foot in the domain for years.”

“Yet I hear you have a fondness for herons.”

“I saw one of Heaven’s creatures suffering,” she replied quietly. “I did not understand what it meant.”

“You understand now, though? ‘Loyalty to the Heron.’ It is almost laughable. These people do not know what Shigeru has become; I’ll wager they would not rally under the banner ‘Loyalty to the Farmer’!”

He laughed and waited for her to smile. “The Farmer is growing a fine crop of sesame, they tell me,” he sneered.

He does not know, she realized.

“I suppose sesame is a useful seed,” she said, pretending disdain.

“Shigeru is far more useful as a farmer than he ever was as a warrior,” Iida muttered. “All the same, I would be a lot happier if he were dead.”

She could not bring herself to acquiesce, simply raised her eyebrows slightly and smiled.

“He had some reputation once as a swordsman,” Iida said. “Now people speak of his integrity and honor. I would like to have him in my power: I would like to see his honor then. But he’s too wily ever to leave the Middle Country.”

“No one is as great a warrior as Lord Iida,” she murmured, thinking how fortunate it was that he was a vain man and no flattery was ever too excessive for him.

“I suppose you have seen my nightingale floor?” he said. “My skills as a warrior are not all that I have. I am also cunning and suspicious, never forget that!”

The audience came to an end and she returned to her rooms.

The days passed, long and tedious apart from the pleasure of being with her daughter. Her anxieties mounted. Her monthly bleeding was two days late, three days, then a week. She feared that the physical changes in her body, especially the onset of morning sickness, would be all too quickly observed and knew that she must not delay her departure. She lay awake at night trying to plan what must take place as soon as she got back to Maruyama. Who would be able to help her? Her normal physicians were all men; she could not bear to disclose her secret to them. And she could not ask either Sachie or her sister, Eriko, to help her kill her child, even though both had a knowledge of herbs, medicine, and healing. The only person she could think of was Shizuka. Surely Shizuka knew about such things? And she would understand and not judge…

The day before she left Inuyama, she sent Bunta with a message begging Shizuka to come to Maruyama at once.

Mariko was deeply disappointed at her leaving, and they parted with tears on both sides. The journey back was difficult: it seemed everything conspired to make her miserable. The weather became suddenly unseasonably hot; the rains began before she left Yamagata, but she insisted on returning home and not staying in the city, so the last week of travel was in constant rain. In Bunta’s absence the horses were bad-tempered and difficult. Everything was soaked and smelled of mildew. Sachie caught a cold, which made her even more unhappy about Naomi’s inexplicable urgency. But unpleasant as the journey was, what she feared at home was even more alarming. She did not know how she would find the strength to do what she knew she had to do.

45

By the time Naomi had arrived home, her compan-ion, Sachie, who knew her so intimately, had begun to suspect what had happened. When they were alone inside the residence, the two women stared at each other. Sachie’s eyes held the question. Naomi could only nod.

“But how?” Sachie began.

“At Terayama. He was there. Don’t say anything to me. I know what a fool I have been. Now I am going to get rid of it.”

She saw Sachie flinch and was unreasonably angry with her. “I am not asking you to have anything to do with it. If it offends you, then leave me. Someone is coming to help me.” She was silent for a moment, then said, her voice breaking, “But she must come soon.”

“Lady Naomi!” Sachie reached out to her as if she would embrace her, but Naomi stood rigid. “I would never leave you at a time like this. But is there no alternative?”

“I cannot think of one,” Naomi said bitterly. “If you can devise some way out, some way for me not to kill Lord Shigeru’s child, then tell me. Otherwise don’t pity me, or you will weaken me. I will weep later when it is all over.”

Sachie bowed her head, tears in her eyes.

“In the meantime you may tell the household I have caught a severe cold. I will see no one, except the woman with whom we rode to Yamagata, Muto Shizuka. She must come soon,” she repeated, gazing into the garden where the rain fell steadily.

Two days later there was a brief break in the weather, and in a patch of sunshine and blue skies, Shizuka arrived with Bunta.

Alone in the room with Naomi, she listened in silence to the curt request, asked for no explanations, and offered no sympathy.

“I will be back tonight,” she said. “Eat and drink nothing. Try to rest. You will not sleep tonight, and it will be painful.”

She returned with herbs from which she made a bitter infusion and helped Naomi drink it. Within hours the cramps began, followed by severe pain and heavy bleeding. Shizuka stayed with her throughout the night, wiping the sweat from her face, washing away the blood, reassuring her that it would soon pass.

“You will have other children,” she whispered. “As I did.”

“You have been through this too,” Naomi said, letting the tears flow now as much for Shizuka as for herself.

“Yes, my first child. It did not suit the Tribe for me to have it at that time. My aunt gave me this same brew. I was very unhappy. But if the Tribe had not done that to me, I would never have dared defy them to help Lord Shigeru and to keep your secret. Men cannot foresee what the results of their actions will be because they do not take account of the human heart.”