The night before they left, Shigeru gave the clothes he had been wearing during the battle to the woman, who promised to wash and mend them and present them to the shrine. She gave him in return an old, unmarked, indigo-dyed robe, and Kenji put on a similar one. Kenji bound the hilts of both swords with strips of dark sharkskin, hiding the decoration. The woman also provided them with new straw sandals and sedge hats that she had woven during the winter. Shigeru’s hat concealed the half-healed slash across the side of his head.

“Now you look like brothers,” she said with satisfaction.

In the years to come, he would travel frequently in this way, crossing and recrossing the Three Countries through the vast tracts of forested mountains by little-known paths, his own strength and his sword’s power disguised, but this was the first time he had made such a journey, no longer recognizable as the heir to the Otori clan, a humble traveler with few needs and few expectations. His mood was heavy with memories of the dead, but the day was beautiful, the air clear, the southern breeze soft and warm. Bell frogs and tree frogs called along the stream, and toward noon the forest was filled with the strident music of early cicadas. Vetch, daisies, and wild orchids starred the grass, and insects hummed around the linden blossom.

They kept away from the high road, following instead a track that led over the mountain ranges; the climb was steep, the views from the top of the pass sublimely beautiful. To the north, beyond the white fringed coastline, the sea stretched away into the distance, fishing boats tiny specks on its surface and green islands rising up in it like mountains trapped by a vast blue flood.

They stayed the first night in an isolated farmhouse at the foot of the range. Here Kenji was known to the farmer, his sons, and their families. They did not seem to have heard of the battle, and neither Kenji nor Shigeru spoke of it. They were in awe of Kenji and treated both their visitors with such deference that no one spoke much at all.

The following morning Shigeru took advantage of the wider path and gentler slopes to engage Kenji in conversation. His father was never far from his mind: his betrayal and death would have to be avenged, but Shigeru was also preoccupied with thoughts of the lost son from the Tribe, from the Kikuta family. He wanted to question Kenji about him, but some caution held him back. First he would try to fathom the man’s true intentions, why he had helped him, what he expected in return.

“I suppose you will report my escape to Iida?” he said.

“I won’t need to. Once you are back in Hagi, it will be general knowledge. Iida will be disappointed. He’ll make some other move against you. Do you trust your uncles?”

“Far from it,” Shigeru replied.

“Very wise.”

“That’s why I am in a hurry to return. They will not wait for my death to be confirmed before they try to seize power.” After a few moments he said, “Of course, that may have been why you detained me for so many days in the mountains.”

“I did not detain you! Did it escape your notice that you were delirious for two days, and then too weak to travel? I saved your life! Truly, it’s said that the man whose life you save will always hate you,” he added with a trace of bitterness.

“I am grateful to you,” Shigeru replied. “I just don’t understand why you did it. You have been working for Iida as an informant and a go-between. Why return my sword to me and help me escape when your master wants my head?”

“No one is my master,” Kenji retorted. “My loyalty is to my family and to the Tribe.”

“Your family, like your double-faced niece. You speak of loyalty! You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

Shigeru felt anger course through him, bringing renewed vigor. Kenji seemed equally enraged, but he said, trying to sound unmoved, “Loyalty for the Tribe may not mean the same as to the warrior, but we know its meaning. If I were going to sell you to Iida, I would have done so already.” Kenji went on, “I have been thinking about the future: Iida should not have everything his own way; we need to keep him a little unsettled; we need people to keep him awake at night while he worries about what they are up to.”

“So the Tribe control us all?” Shigeru said.

“More than any of you suspect,” Kenji admitted.

“And it suits you now to support me, to maintain some kind of check on Iida?”

“That’s my preliminary estimation.” Kenji glanced at him and then said, “But, of course, Shigeru, it is not the only reason.”

Shigeru did not correct him for the familiarity but said sarcastically, “Some bond between us from a former life?”

“Something like that. You know, I have never spoken to Iida. I have never even been admitted to his presence. I receive orders from his henchmen. But the first time we met, you spoke to me courteously, asked for my help, and thanked me.”

“I thought you were a fox-spirit. I did not want to offend you.”

Kenji laughed, and went on. “And a few days ago, you gave me your sword-a warrior does not do that lightly. Moreover, when I held your father’s sword, I felt something of its power. I know you are its true owner-and a worthy one. You must know your reputation in the Middle Country, the respect and affection you command. The Tribe have different notions of honor; nevertheless, I don’t want to be known as the man who sold Otori Shigeru to Iida Sadamu! So yes, there is a bond between us, for political and personal reasons.”

Shigeru said somewhat awkwardly, for Kenji’s praise embarrassed him, “I am more than grateful to you for saving my life and for your help. I hope I can call on that help in the future. But what can I offer you in return?”

“Maybe no more than your friendship. It would be an interesting thing, to be friends with a warrior.”

And all my friends are dead, Shigeru thought. “Would the Tribe work for me, as you have worked for Iida?”

“I am sure we can come to some mutually satisfactory arrangement.”

“Do you have any information now? Will Iida push on into the Middle Country? Do I need to reassemble my army immediately?”

“I don’t know much-only what I saw with my own eyes at Yaegahara. The Tohan also suffered terrible losses. The Otori may have gone down, but they took their enemies with them. Iida will almost certainly demand that large parts of the Middle Country be ceded to him: Chigawa, the southern part, possibly even Yamagata-but he will not be strong enough to attack again, and not for some time.”

“They were brave,” Shigeru said.

“That was never in question. Nor is your own courage. But if you’re going to survive, you need to acquire other qualities: discernment, deviousness, and above all patience.”

“Above all deviousness,” Shigeru remarked. “Maybe you can teach me that.”

“Maybe I can,” Kenji replied.