They sat in the great hall of the residence behind the castle itself. It had rained earlier, but now the sun had come out and it was very hot. Shigeru could hear the sea surging against the wall beyond the garden. All the doors stood open, and the deep verandas were cool pools of shade beyond which the summer light shimmered, making leaves a more brilliant green and the colors of the flowers-wisteria and lotus-more intense. The discussion continued all afternoon, while the heat intensified and the cicadas’ shrilling grew more strident and the men’s tempers more frayed.

Finally, just before sunset, Lord Shigemori said he would like to delay the decision until he had been able to consult a shaman, who fortunately was visiting the shrine in the forest above the castle. A messenger was sent and the meeting broke up; it would be continued and a decision made the following day.

Shigeru spoke with the barest necessary politeness to his father and uncles and went to walk in the garden to cool his temper. The sun was sinking below the hill on the western side of the bay, but the air was still stifling. His skin itched beneath the formal robes and his head ached.

At the far end of the garden, Takeshi was sitting on the stone wall overlooking the sea. Shigeru rarely saw his brother like this, sitting quietly, thinking himself unobserved, apparently wrapped in thought. He watched him for a few moments and found himself wondering what his brother’s life would be like. He was so often the center of attention, admired and praised, yet he was not the clan heir and, unless something happened to Shigeru, would never hold the power that he obviously longed for-and seemed created for. There were many instances in the chronicles of the clans where brother fought brother for power, where younger siblings turned against their elders, overthrew and killed them-or were defeated and put to death or forced to take their own lives. His father’s brothers, right in front of his eyes, were proving themselves disloyal. They were half brothers, it was true, from a different mother, but what if it was a sign of an inescapable part of Otori history that would be repeated in each generation? What if Takeshi were to prove disloyal to him?

How could he keep him occupied and make use of all his talents? Really, he should be given land of his own, a domain within the fief-maybe Tsuwano or even Yamagata.

Takeshi seemed to snap suddenly out of his reverie. He jumped from the wall and saw Shigeru. His face lit up in a smile so spontaneous and full of affection that it allayed some of Shigeru’s fears.

“Have you come to a decision?” he demanded.

“Our father is consulting a shaman,” Shigeru replied, unable to keep the anger from his voice as he should have. “We are to meet again tomorrow.”

Takeshi’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “It would be better to act immediately. That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I do, and everyone knows it by now. I have been saying it all afternoon. But I am not being listened to. Worse, I am constantly undermined by my uncles, who never cease reminding me of my youth, my inexperience, and their great wisdom.”

“They have no wisdom,” Takeshi replied shortly.

Shigeru did not correct his brother for his disrespect. Takeshi glanced up at him and went on, emboldened. “My older brother should act, for the sake of the clan.”

“I can do nothing against our father’s wishes,” Shigeru replied. “I must obey him in whatever decision he makes. The trouble is, he makes no decisions at all!”

Takeshi put on a voice like a mischievous child’s and said brightly, “My teachers can’t forbid me to do things they don’t know about. And if they don’t forbid me, I’m not being disobedient.”The voice was a child’s, but Takeshi’s eyes were narrowed like an adult’s. “Mori Kiyoshige taught me that,” he added.

“Did he?” Shigeru said. “Go and find Kiyoshige now and ask him to come to me. I’m thinking of trying the horses out-maybe early tomorrow morning.”

“Can I come?” Takeshi said at once.

“Probably not.”

Takeshi looked disappointed but did not argue. Instead, he bowed formally to Shigeru as a younger brother should to an older and walked swiftly away.

He knows how to be obedient, Shigeru thought. He has had the best upbringing. I am sure I will always be able to trust him.

AS THEY LEFT the city, he saw the girl again on the bridge-the miraculous bridge so perfect and beautiful. The river did not fight it now but caressed its stone arches, whose footings had cost so many lives. Weeds were already attaching themselves to the lower stones, streaking the gray with dark viscous green, and fish gathered in the shadow of the arches, finding shelter from the sunlight and from the sharp beaks of herons and gulls.

He noted the carved boulder he had erected-it had been a decisive act, like this dawn departure. But both were inspired by the same desire-for justice-and the same impatient intolerance of cruelty and disloyalty.

Even at this early hour there were people on the bridge, bringing offerings to the stonemason, and it made Shigeru think about death and how this man’s death, for all its cruelty, led to a sort of a new life, inspiring people-the stonemason was as important and active in death as he had been in life; his memory would never die.

He could not see into the future, and therefore could not know how his own grave would become a center of pilgrimage as long as the Middle Country endured and how he would be worshipped as a god forever.

And although he meditated often on his own death, as Matsuda had taught him, and prayed that it would be honorable and significant, death did not weigh heavy on his mind this morning.

A sudden thunderstorm in the night had cleared the air and sluiced the streets clean. Huge gray-white clouds banked up on the horizon, tinged pink by the sunrise, as the sky began to deepen to blue. The horse beneath him was eager and excited, and he could feel its coiled energy through his legs and thighs. It was a young creature, like him. They were riding out together. He would not have to sit through another endless day of discussions, arguments, half-truths, and evasions.

Ostensibly he was exercising the horses with Kiyoshige, Irie, and about thirty men, but he did not intend to return to Hagi before the day’s meeting started. In fact, he did not intend to return for many days, for as long as it took to assess the border situation for himself and deal with the Tohan if necessary.

The light below the clouds turned to yellow as the sun rose farther, making their gray undersides gleam like newly polished steel. The riders followed the street that ran along the riverbank. Like most of the city streets, it was unpaved and the horses’ hoofs sent showers of water splashing from the puddles.

Shigeru turned and looked back at the bridge. The low rays of the sun turned the water to silver. He had noticed the woman-Akane… he began at that moment to think of her as Akane-kneeling by the grave, head bowed as he rode past, and he had felt a sudden rush of recognition of a bond between them. He was not surprised now to see that she was gazing after him, with the look of someone peering out to sea, trying to make out some great ship nearing or leaving harbor.

He reined his horse back slightly, so he and Kiyoshige were riding side by side.

“When we come back, I would like to see her.”

“Who?” Kiyoshige replied teasingly.

“The stonemason’s daughter. Akane.”

“Akane?” the younger boy repeated. “I thought you were not interested.”

“I may be interested,” Shigeru replied. It was, it seemed, a day of decisions. He would choose his own war and his own concubine.

“It has already been arranged,” Kiyoshige said quietly, leaning sideways slightly in the saddle so only Shigeru could hear. “She is waiting for you to send for her.”