Across the Nightingale Floor (8 page)

The same thing happened when Lord
Shigeru taught me the use of the sword. I was strong and agile enough, probably
more than average for my height, but I had missed the boyhood years when the
sons of warriors practice endlessly at sword, bow, and horsemanship. I knew I
would never make them up.

Riding came easily enough. I
watched Lord Shigeru and the other men, and realized it was mainly a matter of
balance. I simply copied what I saw them do and the horse responded. I
realized, too, that the horse was shyer and more nervous than I was. To the
horse I had to act like a lord, hide my own feelings for his sake, and pretend
I was perfectly in control and knew exactly what was going on. Then the horse
would relax beneath me and be happy.

I was given a pale gray horse with
a black mane and tail, called Raku, and we got on well together. I did not take
to archery at all, but in using the sword again I copied what I saw Lord
Shigeru do, and the results were passable. I was given a long sword of my own,
and wore it in the sash of my new clothes as any warrior's son would. But
despite the sword and the clothes I knew I was only an imitation warrior.

So the weeks went by. The household
accepted that Lord Otori intended to adopt me, and little by little their
attitude towards me changed. They spoiled, teased, and scolded me in equal
measures. Between the studying and training I had little spare time and I was
not supposed to go out alone, but I still had my restless love of roaming, and
whenever I could I slipped away and explored the city of Hagi. I liked to go
down to the port, where the castle in the west and the old volcano crater in
the east held the bay like a cup in their two hands. I'd stare out to sea and
think of all the fabled lands that lay beyond the horizon and envy the sailors
and fishermen.

There was one boat that I always
looked for. A boy about my own age worked on it. I knew he was called Terada
Fumio. His father was from a low-rank warrior family who had taken up trade and
fishing rather than die of starvation. Chiyo knew all about them, and I got
this information at first from her. I admired Fumio enormously. He had actually
been to the mainland. He knew the sea and the rivers in all their moods. At
that time I could not even swim. At first we just nodded at each other, but as
the weeks went by we became friends. I'd go aboard and we'd sit and eat
persimmons, spitting the pips into the water, and talk about the things boys
talk about. Sooner or later we would get on to the Otori lords; the Terada
hated them for their arrogance and greed. They suffered from the
ever-increasing taxes that the castle imposed, and from the restrictions placed
on trade. When we talked about these things it was in whispers, on the seaward
side of the boat, for the castle, it was said, had spies everywhere.

I was hurrying home late one
afternoon after one of these excursions. Ichiro had been called to settle an
account with a merchant. I'd waited for ten minutes and then decided he was not
coming back and made my escape. It was well into the tenth month. The air was
cool and filled with the smell of burning rice straw. The smoke hung over the
fields between the river and the mountains, turning the landscape silver and
gold. Fumio had been teaching me to swim, and my hair was wet, making me shiver
a little. I was thinking about hot water and wondering if I could get something
to eat from Chiyo before the evening meal, and whether Ichiro would be in a bad
enough temper to beat me, and at the same time I was listening, as I always
did, for the moment when I would begin to hear the distinct song of the house
from the street.

I thought I heard something else,
something that made me stop and look twice at the corner of the wall, just
before our gate. I did not think there was anyone there, then almost in the
same instant I saw there was someone, a man squatting on his heels in the
shadow of the tile roof.

I was only a few yards from him, on
the opposite side of the street. I knew he'd seen me. After a few moments he
stood up slowly as if waiting for me to approach him.

He was the most ordinary-looking
person I'd ever seen, average height and build, hair going a little gray, face
pale rather than brown, with unmemorable features, the sort that you can never
be sure of recognizing again. Even as I studied him, trying to work him out,
his features seemed to change shape before my eyes. And yet, beneath the very
ordinariness lay something extraordinary, something deft and quick that slipped
away when I tried to pinpoint it.

He was wearing faded blue-gray
clothes and carrying no visible weapon. He did not look like a workman, a
merchant, or a warrior. I could not place him in any way, but some inner sense
warned me that he was very dangerous.

At the same time there was something
about him that fascinated me. I could not pass by without acknowledging him.
But I stayed on the far side of the street, and was already judging how far it
was to the gate, the guards, and the dogs.

He gave me a nod and a smile,
almost of approval. “Good day, young lord!” he called, in a voice that held
mockery just below the surface. “You're right not to trust me. I've heard
you're clever like that. But I'll never harm you, I promise you.” I felt his
speech was as slippery as his appearance, and I did not count his promise for
much.

“I want to talk to you,” he said,
“and to Shigeru too.”

I was astonished to hear him speak
of the lord in that familiar way.

“What do you have to say to me?”

“I can't shout it to you from
here,” he replied with a laugh. “Walk with me to the gate and I'll tell you.”

“You can walk to the gate on that
side of the road and I'll walk on this side,” I said, watching his hands to
catch the first movement towards a hidden weapon. “Then I'll speak to Lord
Otori and he can decide if you are to meet him or not.”

The man smiled to himself and
shrugged, and we walked separately to the gate, he as calmly as if he were
taking an evening stroll, me as jumpy as a cat before a storm. When we got to
the gate and the guards greeted us, he seemed to have grown older and more
faded. He looked like such a harmless old man, I was almost ashamed of my
mistrust.

“You are in trouble, Takeo,” one of
the men said. “Master Ichiro has been looking for you for an hour!”

“Hey, Grandpa,” the other called to
the old man. “What are you after, a bowl of noodles or something?”

Indeed, the old man did look as if
he needed a square meal. He waited humbly, saying nothing, just outside the
gate sill.

“Where'd you pick him up, Takeo?
You're too softhearted, that's your trouble! Get rid of him.”

“I said I would tell Lord Otori he
was here, and I will,” I replied. “But watch his every movement, and whatever
you do, don't let him into the garden.”

I turned to the stranger to say
“Wait here” and caught a flash of something from him. He was dangerous, all
right, but it was almost as if he were letting me see a side of him that he
kept hidden from the guards. I wondered if I should leave him with them. Still,
there were two of them armed to the teeth. They should be able to deal with one
old man.

I tore through the garden, kicked
off my sandals, and climbed the stairs in a couple of bounds. Lord Shigeru was
sitting in the upstairs room, gazing out over the garden.

“Takeo,” he said, “I've been
thinking, a tea room over the garden would be perfect.”

“Lord . . .” I began, then was
transfixed by a movement in the garden below. I thought it was the heron, it
stood so still and gray, then I saw it was the man I had left at the gate.

“What?” Lord Shigeru said, seeing
my face.

I was gripped by terror that the
assassination attempt was to be repeated. “There's a stranger in the garden,” I
cried. “Watch him!” My next fear was for the guards. I ran back down the stairs
and out of the house. My heart was pounding as I came to the gate. The dogs
were all right. They stirred when they heard me, tails wagging. I shouted; the
men came out, astonished.

“What's wrong, Takeo?”

“You let him in!” I said in a fury.
“The old man, he's in the garden.”

“No, he's out there in the street
where you left him.”

My eyes followed the man's gesture,
and for a moment I, too, was fooled. I did see him, sitting outside in the
shade of the roofed wall, humble, patient, harmless. Then my vision cleared.
The street was empty.

“You fools!” I said. “Didn't I tell
you he was dangerous? Didn't I tell you on no account to let him in? What
useless idiots are you, and you call yourselves men of the Otori clan? Go back
to your farms and guard your hens, and may the foxes eat every one of them!”

They gaped at me. I don't think
anyone in the household had ever heard me speak so many words at once. My rage
was greater because I felt responsible for them. But they had to obey me. I
could only protect them if they obeyed me. “You are lucky to be alive,” I said,
drawing my sword from my belt and racing back to find the intruder.

He was gone from the garden, and I
was beginning to wonder if I'd seen another mirage, when I heard voices from
the upstairs room. Lord Shigeru called my name. He did not sound in any
danger—more as if he were laughing. When I went into the room and bowed, the
man was sitting next to him as if they were old friends, and they were both
chuckling away. The stranger no longer looked so ancient. I could see he was a
few years older than Lord Shigeru, and his face now was open and warm.

“He wouldn't walk on the same side
of the street, eh?” the lord said.

“That's right, and he made me sit
outside and wait.” They both roared with laughter and slapped the matting with
open palms. “By the way, Shigeru, you should train your guards better. Takeo
was right to be angry with them.”

“He was right all along,” Lord
Shigeru said, a note of pride in his voice.

“He's one in a thousand—the sort
that's born, not made. He has to be from the Tribe. Sit up, Takeo, let me look
at you.”

I lifted my head from the floor and
sat back on my heels. My face was burning. I felt the man had tricked me after
all. He said nothing, just studied me quietly.

Lord Shigeru said, “This Muto
Kenji, an old friend of mine.”

“Lord Muto,” I said, polite but
cold, determined not to let my feelings show.

“You don't have to call me lord,”
Kenji said. “I am not a lord, though I number a few among my friends.” He
leaned towards me. “Show me your hands.”

He took each hand in turn, looking
at the back and then at the palm.

“We think him like Takeshi,” Lord
Shigeru said.

“Unnh. He has a look of the Otori
about him.” Kenji moved back to his original position and gazed over the
garden. The last of the color had leached from it. Only the maples stiff glowed
red. “The news of your loss saddened me,” he said.

“I thought I no longer wanted to
live,” Lord Shigeru replied. “But the weeks pass and I find that I do. I am not
made for despair.”

“No, indeed,” Kenji agreed, with
affection. They both looked out through the open windows. The air was chill
with autumn, a gust of wind shook the maples, and leaves fell into the stream,
turning darker red in the water before they were swept into the river.

I thought longingly of the hot
bath, and shivered.

Kenji broke the silence. “Why is
this boy who looks like Takeshi, but is obviously from the Tribe, living in
your household, Shigeru?”

“Why have you come all this way to
ask me?” he replied, smiling slightly.

“I don't mind telling you. News on
the wind was that someone heard an intruder climbing into your house. As a
result, one of the most dangerous assassins in the Three Countries is dead.”

“We have tried to keep it secret,”
Lord Shigeru said.

“It's our business to find out such
secrets. What was Shintaro doing in your house?”

“Presumably he came to kill me,”
Lord Shigeru replied. “So it was Shintaro. I had my suspicions, but we had no
proof.” After a moment he added, “Someone must truly desire my death. Was he
hired by Iida?”

“He had worked for the Tohan for
some time. But I don't think Iida would have you assassinated in secret. By all
accounts he would rather watch the event with his own eyes. Who else wants you
dead?”

“I can think of one or two,” the
lord answered.

“It was hard to believe Shintaro
failed,” Kenji went on. “We had to find out who the boy was. Where did you find
him?”

“What do you hear on the wind?”
Lord Shigeru countered, still smiling.

“The official story, of course:
that he's a distant relative of your mother's; from the superstitious, that you
took leave of your senses and believe he's your brother returned to you; from
the cynical, that he's your son, got with some peasant woman in the East.”

Lord Shigeru laughed. “I am not
even twice his age. I would have had to have fathered him at twelve. He is not
my son.”

“No, obviously, and despite his
looks, I don't believe he's a relative or a revenant. Anyway, he has to be from
the Tribe. Where did you find him?”

One of the maids, Haruka, came and
lit the lamps, and immediately a large blue-green moon moth blundered into the
room and flapped towards the flame. I stood and took it in my hand, felt its
powdery wings beat against my palm, and released it into the night, sliding the
screens closed before I sat again.

Lord Shigeru made no reply to
Kenji, and then Haruka returned with tea. Kenji did not seem angry or
frustrated. He admired the tea bowls, which were of the simple, pink-hued local
ware, and drank without saying any more, but watching me all the time.

Finally he asked me a direct
question. “Tell me, Takeo, when you were a child, did you pull the shells off
living snails, or tear the claws from crabs?”