Haruna returned; the maids spoke to her in hushed voices, causing her to weep quietly. The women decided it would be better for Akane to be removed from the place where every room, every aspect and object spoke to her of her dead lover; and also from the scene of the unspeakable violation. She would not be separated from the box she had dug from the earth, but cradling it in her arms, she allowed Haruna to help her into a palanquin and take her to the House of the Camellias. The house was quiet, the women all in mourning; indeed, many of them had returned to their families for the funeral ceremonies that were taking place all over the city. Haruna led Akane to the room she had slept in when she was a girl, washed her and dressed her in a clean robe, and sat with her till dawn. The change of surroundings seemed to calm her a little, and finally she gave in to exhaustion and slept. Haruna lay down beside her, and soon her eyes closed too.

AKANE AWOKE WITH the dawn. Sparrows were chirping noisily from the camellias in the garden, and a bush warbler called piercingly. It was going to be another warm day. Soon the plum rains would begin. He will never feel sun or rain again, she thought, and grief tightened its vise around her heart.

She rose quietly, took the box from where she had left it beside the pillow block, and slipped from the room. The garden sparkled with dew: there was no one around to see her, but she left clear footprints on gravel and grass.

She went to the old priest’s dwelling, rousing him from sleep and demanding that he remove all the spells he had cast on her behalf. Half fuddled, he tried to calm her, but his touch unhinged her further. Her madness gave her inhuman strength. As if a demon possessed her, she ransacked the hut, searching for something that would ease her pain. She threw his flasks and potions to the ground, scattering the dried roots and seeds. When he bent to collect them, she picked up his paring knife and cut his throat. It seemed to her as if she was killing Masahiro as he violated her, and that nothing but his blood would moisten her parched lips. May he die thus and thus again through all his lives, she cursed him; may he never find peace or salvation; may his children hate him and seek his death. Then she put her lips to the newly carved mouth and sucked from it.

Picking up the box with the charm that had bound Shigeru to her and turned his wife against him, she went to the shrine and prayed for forgiveness, for them all to be released. She wept for her dead love, and the tears brought clarity. I did not mean to love you, she told him, but I did, completely. Now you are gone, I will not live without you. Forgive me for the part I played in your death. The salt of tears mingled in her mouth with the taste of blood.

Clasping the box to her like a child, she climbed to the edge of the sulfur-smelling crater and threw herself into the pit.

33

Kenji accompanied Shigeru to the south bank of the river. They arrived at the night ebb tide, when the air smelled of mud and salt. A new three-day moon hung low above the sea. Shigeru was a little reluctant to say good-bye; he would have liked to keep his companion longer. He felt there was indeed some inexplicable bond between them and suspected that he would be in need of help in the coming months, the sort of help only the Tribe could provide-above all, information.

“Where will you go now? You are welcome to stay at my mother’s house.”

“It’s better for our friendship to remain hidden for now,” Kenji replied. “There are places I can stay in Hagi.”

“Where can I reach you?” Shigeru asked.

“I’ll send someone to you. I’ll be in touch in some way through your household.”

Shigeru thought immediately of Muto Shizuka and was filled with misgivings-even if he had information from Kenji, how would he know if he could trust it? How could he control and use the Tribe when he knew nothing about them?

“Well, thank you again-for the sword, for all your help.”

“Lord Otori.” Kenji bowed formally. “Look after yourself,” he added in more familiar speech and turned to walk away.

Shigeru gazed after him for a moment and saw the figure split in two. Two identical men walked side by side. Both raised a hand in farewell. They merged together, and Kenji, the Fox, vanished.

He is showing off, Shigeru thought, but what a marvelous skill to have.

SHIGERU WENT FIRST to his mother’s house, crossing the river by the fish weir, remembering, as always, the day of the stone fight when Takeshi nearly drowned, and Mori Yuta did. Now the second Mori son was dead too.

He did not want to return to the castle like a fugitive. In the morning he would dress in formal robes and ride there as the head of the clan.

The dogs barked triumphantly; the guards opened the gate at the sound of his voice, their faces astonished, then contorted with emotion. Two of them, ancient grizzled men too old to fight on the battlefield, had tears coursing down their cheeks as they fell to their knees.

The household woke; lamps were lit. Chiyo wept as she prepared hot water and food. Ichiro forgot himself so far that he embraced his former pupil. Shigeru had returned from the dead, and no one could quite believe it.

Messengers were sent at once to the castle, and Shigeru’s mother arrived at dawn. He had bathed and slept for a few hours and was eating the first meal of the day with Ichiro when her presence was announced.

“You have come back just in time,” she said. “Kitano is expected any day now with Iida’s terms. Your uncles are installed as regents, but you can be sure they will not be as overjoyed as they should be at your return.”

“I will go to the castle at once,” Shigeru said. “You must accompany me.” After a moment he went on. “My father died fighting bravely, as did all his warriors. We were defeated by the treachery of the Noguchi. But Kitano is not blameless; his vacillation also contributed to the defeat.”

“This, however, makes him acceptable to Iida,” Ichiro observed. The older man’s emotion had not affected his appetite, Shigeru noticed, as Ichiro helped himself greedily to rice and salted plums. Yet he felt renewed respect for his teacher’s learning and judgment, recalling his meticulous attention to detail and his scrupulous regard for truth. Moreover, Shigeru knew that he could trust him completely.

“You must refuse to negotiate through a traitor,” his mother said angrily. “You must confront your uncles and take over the leadership of the clan immediately.”

“Forgive me for disagreeing, Lady Otori,” Ichiro said, “but Lord Shigeru should be prepared to be flexible: it’s not the willow’s branches that break under the snow. The Otori have been defeated in battle; no matter whose the fault, the outcome is the same. Iida is going to make heavy demands, heavier than the worst blizzards of winter. If we are not to be broken completely, we must be prepared to bend.”

Lady Otori, affronted, opened her mouth to argue, but Shigeru held up a hand to silence her.

“What are these demands likely to be?”

“We must find out from Kitano. I am afraid he will ask for Chigawa, the silver mines, all of the eastern districts, and maybe even Yamagata.”

“We will never give up Yamagata,” Lady Otori exclaimed.

“And though I dislike having to voice such things, your abdication, even your life, may be required.” Ichiro spoke in a dry, impersonal manner, as though discussing a point of legality, but a sudden fit of coughing seemed to overcome him, and he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe, hiding his face briefly.

Lady Otori did not argue with this interpretation but sat in silence, her eyes cast down, her face stern.