Heaven's Net Is Wide Lian Hearn (leveled readers .TXT) 📖

“Why did he send the letter with you?” Shigeru asked the woman. “Any messenger could have brought it to me.”

“Most messengers would simply have delivered it,” she replied. “I was to see you first and…”

“And what?” He did not know whether to be affronted or amused.

“And decide if we should take matters further.”

He was surprised by her boldness and confidence. She spoke as if she were one of Arai’s senior advisers rather than a concubine.

“You decided very quickly,” he said.

“I am able to sum up a character very quickly. I believe Lord Otori is to be trusted.”

But are you? he thought, but did not speak it.

“Ride toward Kibi tomorrow. Just over the wooden bridge, there is a fox shrine. A horseman will meet you there. Follow him toward the southwest. Bring only a few men, and let everyone know that you ride out for pleasure.”

“We should have hawks,” Shigeru said to Kiyoshige.

He nodded. “I will arrange it.”

“It will be a perfect day for hawking,” the woman called Muto Shizuka said.

24

After the long days of discussion, reading, meetings, and reports, Shigeru was glad to be out early on horseback, with his friend and his brother, on what was indeed a beautiful day, one of those days of late autumn when the last warmth of summer and the first chill of winter meet in perfect balance. The grasses were fawn and russet; the last leaves glowed golden and orange; the sky was a deep, unbroken blue, but the mountain peaks were already frosted with snow.

His black horse, Karasu, was eager and spirited after several days of inactivity. Three men rode with them, including the falconer carrying the hawks on their perch. The birds also were active and lively. A fourth man followed, leading a packhorse, for Kibi was half a day’s ride away, and they would surely have to stay overnight somewhere or even sleep out of doors-the last time, Shigeru thought, before winter set in.

A broad river flanked by rice fields marked the border between the Middle Country and the West, but it was not manned in the way that the Tohan guarded their border. The Seishuu and the Otori had never been at war, the Seishuu being a group of several large clans who sometimes quarreled among themselves but had never united to fight a common enemy or been dominated by one powerful family, as the Iida dominated the Tohan.

The river was low and calm, though it was possible to see how high it rose in the spring floods; it was spanned by a wooden bridge, and on the far side, Shigeru could see the grove of trees around the shrine, on this day a mass of leaves like flame against the dull green of the river and the pale brown stubble of the fields. Little white statues of the fox god shone like ice among the brilliant leaves.

A horseman waited as promised among the trees. He raised his hand in greeting, and without speaking turned his horse and set off at a canter away from the river and the road toward the southwest.

“Who’s that?” Takeshi called, his own horse pulling against the bit and bucking in its eagerness to follow. He had been told nothing of the true purpose of the outing.

“Someone we hope will show us where the best hawking is,” Shigeru replied, urging Karasu forward.

Their guide led them at some speed along a narrow track that eventually opened out onto a broad plain. Here the horses tossed their heads and snorted and began to gallop, and their riders let them run across the tawny plain like ships driven by the wind across the face of the sea.

Hardly a tree or a rock broke the smooth undulating surface of the plain, and the wind whipped tears into his eyes, blurring his vision, but as the horses began to slow, Shigeru could see the figure a long way in the distance, the single horseman. They drew nearer; the man raised his hand again, and as the horses, trotting now, came up the slope toward him, Shigeru saw behind him a small group of men who had set up a kind of camp in a slight depression in the plain. Cloth screens had been erected on three sides, giving protection from the wind; matting had been laid on the ground and cushions placed on it. On either side of the open space fluttered long banners emblazoned with the bear’s paw of the Arai and the setting sun of the Seishuu. Two folding stools had been prepared, and on one of these sat a young man who he assumed was Arai Daiichi. Beside him, on the ground, was Danjo, Eijiro’s oldest son.

As Shigeru dismounted, Arai stood and declared his name, then dropped to his knees and bowed to the ground. Danjo did the same. When they rose, Arai said, “Lord Otori. What a fortunate coincidence brings us to this meeting.”

His voice was warm, with a Western accent. It was hard to tell his age: he was already a big man, a little taller than Shigeru and a lot broader; his features were strong, his eyes sparkling. He radiated energy and strength.

Shigeru thought briefly of Muto Shizuka and wondered where she was now. He had half expected to see her here, since she and Arai had seemed so close.

“It’s very fortunate that you were able to meet up with an old friend,” Shigeru replied, “and a great pleasure for me that you happened to be here.”

“The hawking is excellent at this time of year. I often come to Kibi in the tenth month. You’ve met my companion, I think?”

Shigeru turned in surprise and saw Shizuka dismounting from the horse they had been following. He tried to hide his astonishment. He could not believe that someone who now appeared, despite her riding clothes, so womanly-soft, gentle even-could have fooled him into thinking she was a man. In the brief moment