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know, I have never spoken to Iida. I have never even been admitted to his presence. I receive orders from his henchmen. But the first time we met, you spoke to me courteously, asked for my help, and thanked me.”

“I thought you were a fox-spirit. I did not want to offend you.”

Kenji laughed, and went on. “And a few days ago, you gave me your sword-a warrior does not do that lightly. Moreover, when I held your father’s sword, I felt something of its power. I know you are its true owner-and a worthy one. You must know your reputation in the Middle Country, the respect and affection you command. The Tribe have different notions of honor; nevertheless, I don’t want to be known as the man who sold Otori Shigeru to Iida Sadamu! So yes, there is a bond between us, for political and personal reasons.”

Shigeru said somewhat awkwardly, for Kenji’s praise embarrassed him, “I am more than grateful to you for saving my life and for your help. I hope I can call on that help in the future. But what can I offer you in return?”

“Maybe no more than your friendship. It would be an interesting thing, to be friends with a warrior.”

And all my friends are dead, Shigeru thought. “Would the Tribe work for me, as you have worked for Iida?”

“I am sure we can come to some mutually satisfactory arrangement.”

“Do you have any information now? Will Iida push on into the Middle Country? Do I need to reassemble my army immediately?”

“I don’t know much-only what I saw with my own eyes at Yaegahara. The Tohan also suffered terrible losses. The Otori may have gone down, but they took their enemies with them. Iida will almost certainly demand that large parts of the Middle Country be ceded to him: Chigawa, the southern part, possibly even Yamagata-but he will not be strong enough to attack again, and not for some time.”

“They were brave,” Shigeru said.

“That was never in question. Nor is your own courage. But if you’re going to survive, you need to acquire other qualities: discernment, deviousness, and above all patience.”

“Above all deviousness,” Shigeru remarked. “Maybe you can teach me that.”

“Maybe I can,” Kenji replied.

32

As reports began to come through from the battlefield, the city of Hagi went into mourning. People wept in the streets, rushed to the shrines to pray, beat gongs and bells to awaken the gods who had forgotten the Otori. The more courageous armed themselves with staves and knives, and villagers began to stream into the city from the surrounding districts.

After a few days, the remnants of the defeated army began to trickle back. Among the first was Miyoshi Satoru, with his oldest son, the fourteen-year-old Kahei. Miyoshi was one of Lord Shigemori’s closest advisers and one of Lord Shigeru’s teachers. It was with the deepest sorrow that he reported her husband’s death to Lady Otori.

“And Lord Shigeru?” she said, with no sign of grief.

“There is no clear knowledge of him: I cannot hide it from you. We fear the worst.”

Endo Chikara also returned, and the two retainers acted as swiftly as they could to protect what remained of the clan. Lady Otori, of course, was determined to secure Takeshi’s position as heir, but Takeshi was only fourteen: a regent would have to be decided upon. As soon as Lord Shoichi and Lord Masahiro heard the news, they hurried back to the castle to make sure no negotiations took place without them. The extent of the disaster could not be minimized. Their clan and its young heir had attracted the anger and enmity of the most powerful warlord in the Three Countries. They would all suffer severe punishment-there was no doubt of that-but their main objective was to do all they could to ensure the survival of the clan.

Shigemori was dead and Shigeru missing. Takeshi was still a minor and, anyway, was a week’s journey away in Terayama, which had every likelihood of becoming Tohan in the very near future. Shoichi and Masahiro, whatever their failings, were Otori lords: they were instated almost immediately as interim regents and given authority to begin negotiations with Iida Sadamu.

How to approach the conqueror was the next problem. Lord Shoichi himself suggested Tsuwano’s Kitano, who had kept himself and his men out of the battle-which could be interpreted as neutrality. Shoichi already knew of Kitano’s leanings toward Inuyama, the same leanings that had so offended Shigeru three years earlier.

Endo himself set out the next day for Tsuwano to make preliminary inquiries, while Shoichi and Masahiro made arrangements to move their wives and families back into the castle. However, while he was waiting for his wife’s return, Masahiro went to visit Akane.

Haruna had gone straight to Akane as soon as she had heard the first news of the defeat. Akane spent that day and the next soaring and plummeting between hope and despair.

“He is only missing!” she kept repeating to Haruna, who sat beside her holding her hand, combing out her hair, massaging her neck and temples, encouraging her to eat and drink, anything to keep her from careering downward into the deep pit of hopeless grief. “No one saw him die!”

Haruna did not say what was uppermost in her mind-that all those who might have witnessed Shigeru’s death were themselves dead. Mori Kiyoshige, for instance, murdered by his own clansmen-the name Noguchi had already become synonymous with traitor. She wept for the young man, so full of fierce vitality, and for all the others.

Akane bathed and changed her clothes over and over again, repeating, “He will need my love when he returns. I must look beautiful for him: he will need my comfort as never before.” However, by the evening of the third day, she was sinking into desperation, though she still did not give way to tears. Just after sunset they heard the sound of horses in the street outside: hope returned with a stab of physical pain; brushing aside the maids, she

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