L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane Read Online Free PDF

from fires lit deep beneath the stone foundations. Their heat was carried through the castle by a series of cunning shafts. Even in this cold autumn, flowers had been arranged in every room and hallway. Their sparse beauty reflected the turn of the seasons and the happy peace of the festival.
    The highest chambers of the palace opened onto a great stone balcony overlooking wide forests. Below the balcony, banners swung gently over soft blankets of earth and a dais of wood. The practice ground of the Kakita duelists today would become a tournament ground for those who wished to prove themselves in swordsmanship. The academy of artisans, nestled in the groves to the south of the palace, had been bustling with activity for hours—if it had ever ceased during the night. When the Kakita held a festival, they expected the finest creations of their artisans to entertain their guests. From delicate origami and flower arrangements to plays of Noh beauty that would cause the harshest samurai to weep, the artisans labored to produce perfect offerings for the Festival of the Last Harvest.
    The duelists were the most famous of those artisans, practicing day and night to satisfy their demanding masters. The Kakita believed swordsmanship was an art, and their intricate studies with the katana occupied the thoughts and efforts of a lifetime. Although outwardly they were no more revered within the academy than the dancers, poets, or storytellers, the duelists stood at the heart of the teachings of Kakita, the first swordsman of the empire. They were trained in the grace and beauty of swordsmanship, the courtly airs of the Crane, and the history of the empire. The emperor himself, for more than seventeen generations, had been trained by a swordsman of the Kakita. It was an honor to watch the students of the school perform, and the life's wish of many men to train among them.
    Toshimoko had always liked festivals. This year's added amusement was the bitterness between the Lion and the
    Crane. Toshimoko saw it as a fine diversion, a chance to teach the Matsu a lesson about the cost of too much pride.
    Yawning hugely, he ran callused fingers through his wet gray hair and sat down atop the tangled covers of his cushioned futon.
    The formal bath had been filled with visitors. Unicorn courtiers had visited the warmth of the bath gratefully, as had gruff and burly Crab guardsmen. One particularly promising Phoenix had broken into line in front of the sen-sei and several others, claiming that his sword was "as keen as Shinsei's wisdom."
    After dropping him for an icy dunk in the river outside (he palace, Toshimoko had thoughtfully informed the arrogant lad that sometimes even wise Shinsei became confused.
    It had been a good morning.
    Placing his swords into his finest obi, Kakita Toshimoko chewed at a bit of cinnamon bark as he braided his long gray hair. It was an affectation, really, but one that the old man could easily get away with. Many men boasted they would cut his braid, but as yet, none had even come close.
    Without thinking, his hand fell to the hilt of his katana as if bidding good morning to an old friend. It was time to join the celebrations. He stepped out of the chambers.
    "Konbanwa, Toshimoko-sama." Nodding her head in ardent respect, a young daughter of the Shinjo simpered the greeting. Her father, a plump man with silvering locks escaping from a poorly dressed topknot, paused to glance at his daughter's greeting and then bowed low.
    "Konbanwa, Master of the Academy," he greeted Toshimoko respectfully.
    "Kon-wa," Toshimoko said informally, not pausing to make small talk. Unicorns were amusing, he thought to himself, catching their whispers as he passed. But only in small amounts. It was a shame there would be no more Scorpions in the empire. Their small treacheries were a delicate form of Kabuki that he would miss. Best not to say that aloud, though. Toshimoko's brow furrowed. Too many politics these days.
    "Concerned about today's