Grass for His Pillow Read Online Free PDF Page B

the West while he settles the Otori question; your destiny is closely linked with the Otori clan and with the Middle Country too.”
    â€œI may marry no one,” Kaede said, half to herself. And in that case, she was thinking, why should I not become a key player myself?

·3·
    T he sounds of the temple at Terayama, the midnight bell, the chanting of the monks, faded from my hearing as I followed the two masters, Kikuta Kotaro and Muto Kenji, down a lonely path, steep and overgrown, alongside the stream. We went swiftly, the noise of the tumbling water hiding our footsteps. We said little and we saw no one.
    By the time we came to Yamagata, it was nearly dawn and the first cocks were crowing. The streets of the town were deserted, though the curfew was lifted and the Tohan no longer there to patrol them. We came to a merchant’s house in the middle of the town, not far from the inn where we had stayed during the Festival of the Dead. I already knew the street from when I had explored the town at night. It seemed a lifetime ago.
    Kenji’s daughter, Yuki, opened the gate as though she had been waiting for us all night, even though we came so silently that not a dog barked. She said nothing, but I caught the intensity in the lookshe gave me. Her face, her vivid eyes, her graceful, muscular body, brought back all too clearly the terrible events at Inuyama the night Shigeru died. I had half-expected to see her at Terayama, for it was she who had traveled day and night to take Shigeru’s head to the temple and break the news of his death. There were many things I would have liked to have questioned her about: her journey, the uprising at Yamagata, the overthrow of the Tohan. As her father and the Kikuta master went ahead into the house, I lingered a little so that she and I stepped up on to the veranda together. A low light was burning by the doorway.
    She said, “I did not expect to see you alive again.”
    â€œI did not expect to live.” Remembering her skill and her ruthlessness, I added, “I owe you a huge debt. I can never repay you.”
    She smiled. “I was repaying debts of my own. You owe me nothing. But I hope we will be friends.”
    The word did not seem strong enough to describe what we already were. She had brought Shigeru’s sword, Jato, to me and had helped me in his rescue and revenge: the most important and most desperate acts of my life. I was filled with gratitude for her, mingled with admiration.
    She disappeared for a moment and came back with water. I washed my feet, listening to the two masters talking within the house. They planned to rest for a few hours, then I would travel on with Kotaro. I shook my head wearily. I was tired of listening.
    â€œCome,” she said, and led me into the center of the house, where, as in Inuyama, there was a concealed room as narrow as an eel’s bed.
    â€œAm I a prisoner again?” I said, looking around at the windowless walls.
    â€œNo, it’s only for your own safety, to rest for a few hours. Then you will travel on.”
    â€œI know; I heard.”
    â€œOf course,” she said. “I forgot: You hear everything.”
    â€œToo much,” I said, sitting down on the mattress that was already spread out on the floor.
    â€œGifts are hard. But it’s better to have them than not. I’ll get you some food, and tea is ready.”
    She came back in a few moments. I drank the tea but could not face food. “There’s no hot water to bathe,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œI’ll live.” Twice already she had bathed me. Once here, in Yamagata, when I did not know who she was and she had scrubbed my back and massaged my temples, and then again in Inuyama, when I could barely walk. The memory came flooding over me. Her gaze met mine, and I knew she was thinking of the same thing. Then she looked away and said quietly, “I’ll leave you to sleep.”
    I