Across The Nightingale Floor by Hearn Lian

Author:Hearn, Lian [Hearn, Lian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Historical, Young Adult, Adventure
ISBN: 9781573223324
Google: AeUcd__vlo4C
Amazon: 1573223328
Goodreads: 77160
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2002-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

The following morning the roads out of Tsuwano were crowded. Many travelers were taking advantage of the finer weather to resume their journey. The sky was a clear deep blue and the sun drew moisture from the earth until it steamed. The stone bridge across the river was undamaged, but the water ran wild and high, throwing tree branches, planks of wood, dead animals and other corpses, possibly, against the piers. I was thinking fleetingly of the first time I’d crossed the bridge at Hagi when I saw a drowned heron floating in the water, its gray-and-white feathers waterlogged, all its gracefulness crumpled and broken. The sight of it chilled me. I thought it a terrible omen.

The horses were rested and stepped out eagerly. If Shigeru was less eager, if he shared my forebodings, he gave no sign of it. His face was calm, his eyes bright. He seemed to glow with energy and life. It made my heart twist to look at him—made me feel his life and his future all lay in my assassin hands. I looked at my hands as they lay against Raku’s pale gray neck and black mane and wondered if they would let me down.

I saw Kaede only briefly, as she stepped into the palanquin outside the inn. She did not look at me. Lady Maruyama acknowledged our presence with a slight bow but did not speak. Her face was pale, her eyes dark-ringed, but she was composed and calm.

It was a slow, laborious journey. Tsuwano had been protected from the worst of the storm behind its mountain barriers, but as we descended into the valley the full extent of the damage became clear. Houses and bridges had been washed away, trees uprooted, fields flooded. The village people watched us, sullen or with open anger, as we rode through the midst of their suffering, and added to it by commandeering their hay to feed our horses, their boats to carry us across the swollen rivers. We were already days overdue and had to press on at whatever cost.

It took us three days to reach the fief border, twice as long as expected. An escort had been sent to meet us here: one of Iida’s chief retainers, Abe, with a group of thirty Tohan men, outnumbering the twenty Otori Lord Shigeru rode with. Sugita and the other Maruyama men had returned to their own domain after our meeting in Tsuwano.

Abe and his men had been waiting a week and were impatient and irritable. They did not want to spend the time that the Festival of the Dead required in Yamagata. There was little love lost between the two clans; the atmosphere became tense and strained. The Tohan men were arrogant and swaggering. We Otori were made to feel that we were inferior, coming as supplicants, not equals. My blood boiled on Shigeru’s behalf, but he seemed unmoved, remaining as courteous as usual, and only slightly less cheerful.

I was as silent as in the days when I could not speak.

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