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Shigeru left with his own men to ride south, to see with his own eyes what the Tohan were doing to his people there.

Several young men from the town came with him, eager to act as guides and, he thought, probably hoping for a skirmish with the hated Tohan. They were typical of the people of the East, small and wiry, energetic and quick-tempered. As well as weapons, they brought with them ropes and lamps and a pan of coals with which to light wicks. Shigeru wondered why, but as they rode south, the reason became clearer. South of Chigawa, the limestone upland of Yaegahara extended toward the border like a pointing finger. The road itself curved away from the border. The valley seemed open all the way to Inuyama.

“Surely we should have this area well guarded,” he said. “It is a gateway to the Middle Country.”

“The land is treacherous through there,” the oldest of his guides said, a man of about nineteen or twenty called Komori. “If you don’t know the way, it’s easy to wander off the track and fall into the caverns: many people disappear and never find their way out. Yet to see the border itself, we should go that way, if Lord Otori will trust us to guide him.”

“Komori knows this country above and below,” one of the others said. “The Underground Emperor, that’s what we call him.”

Komori grinned and pointed to the ropes on his saddle bow. “These are the Emperor’s jewels. You can buy them for a few coins in any shop in Chigawa, but underground they’re worth more than all the treasure in the capital.”

They left the road and headed east through the long summer grass bright with yellow daisies, small purple orchids, blue bugle, and white yarrow. The grass seed-heads were forming in delicate, foamy tassels. Butterflies, blue and yellow, fluttered around the horses’ hoofs. Tracks made by foxes, deer, and wild boar crisscrossed the plain. There were few trees-occasionally a clump of alders grew around depressions where water gathered, and shrubs clung to the sides of the deep caverns, often hiding the mouth completely. Shigeru could see how easy it would be to miss the path and plunge into one of these natural prisons. No one would know where you were, and there would be no hope of rescue.

They had ridden for about three hours, skirting numerous deep holes, while Komori named each of them for Shigeru-Hell’s Mouth, Lair of the Wolf, the Cauldron-names created by humans and intended to describe them, yet to Shigeru’s mind no human language could encompass the menace of the dark openings, gaping suddenly and unexpectedly in the peaceful summer landscape.

Kites mewed above them, and once in the distance they saw eagles circling on the warm air. Occasionally a hare started up at their approach, bounding away in huge desperate leaps, its eyes bulging. Pheasants and partridge were also abundant, glossy in their summer plumage.

“It would be a good place for hawking,” Shigeru observed.

“You need your eyes on the ground, not in the skies,” Komori replied. “Few people come this way.”

They saw no one all morning; the plain indeed seemed deserted. So it was a surprise to come over the ridge of a slope and see in the valley beneath it a group of horsemen milling around the edge of one of the caverns. Several had dismounted and were peering over the rim, shouting and gesticulating.

“Tohan!” one of the men exclaimed, and Komori said, “Ah! Someone has fallen into the Ogre’s Storehouse!”

The men around him shouted in triumph and derision and drew their swords, waiting expectantly for Shigeru’s orders.

“Go forward slowly,” he said. “There is no need to attack unless they do. Have bows ready to cover our approach.”

The bowmen immediately drew off to one side. The Tohan below noticed the Otori coming, and their confusion increased. They saw they were outnumbered and at a hopeless disadvantage. Three of the men on foot leaped immediately over the edge into the cavern, plunging without a sound into the darkness. The rest turned their horses and urged them into a gallop. The riderless horses ran after them, leaving one man stumbling helplessly behind.

“Capture him, but don’t kill him,” Shigeru ordered.

The man fell to his knees as the horsemen surrounded him. He was carrying a carved bird perch with two hawks tethered by their jesses, trying to hold them upright and reach his sword at the same time. The birds shrieked and flapped in frenzy, striking out with their sharp curved beaks. Shigeru’s men disarmed the man before he could kill himself and brought him to Shigeru.

He was thrown down somewhat roughly and sprawled on his face in an attitude of despair in the dusty grass.

“Sit up,” Shigeru said. “What happened?” When the man did not reply, he went on, “There’s no need to be afraid…”

At that the man raised his head. “Afraid? Do you think I am afraid of any Otori? All I ask of you is to allow me to take my own life, or kill me yourselves. My life is over. I let my lord fall into the pit.”

“Your lord? Who is it down there?”

The man’s face was white with horror. He was shaking with emotion. “I serve Iida Sadamu, son of Lord Iida Sadayoshi and heir to the Tohan.”

“Iida Sadamu fell into the Ogre’s Storehouse?” Komori said in disbelief.

“What were you doing here?” Shigeru demanded. “You have crossed the border with armed men! You were seeking to provoke the Otori into war!”

“No, we were hawking. We rode two days ago from Inuyama. He was leading, galloping ahead of us, following the bird.”

He pointed upward, and they saw the small dark shape still wheeling in the sky. “He and his horse went in together.”

“Hawking!” Shigeru thought it would have made a good excuse for Sadamu to ride to the border country to see for himself what the Otori were up to. As good an excuse as trying out young horses. He marveled at the strange

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