Risuko: A Kunoichi Tale (Seasons of the Sword #1)(2)

I clamped my mouth shut and blushed. Noble as she clearly was, she could have had me flogged or beheaded for daring to do such a thing. I tensed.

But this odd old woman didn’t have her enormous litter-carriers beat me with the wooden swords they carried in their belts. Instead, she truly smiled, and that terrifying smile was what let me know that my fate was sealed, that I couldn’t run. “Yes,” she said. “Very interesting. Risuko.”

She motioned for the men to bring her palanquin. It was decorated, as were the coats of the men, with the lady’s mon, her house’s symbol: a plain, solid white circle.

They placed the box beside her, and she eased into it, barely seeming to move. “Come, walk beside me, Risuko. I have some more questions to ask you.” Then she snapped, “Little Brother!”

“Yes, Lady!” called the servant who stood at the front of the palanquin, the larger of the two men. He gave a quiet sort of grunt and then, in perfect unison with his partner, lifted the box and began to march forward.

“Stay with me, girl!” the old lady ordered, and I scurried to keep up. I was surprised by the strength of the two men—they hardly seemed to notice the weight that they carried—but their speed was what took my breath away. As I scrambled to keep up, the mistress began to bark at me again. “What did I hear about your father? He taught you to write?”

How did she know my father? “Yes, he was a scribe.” I wanted to add, but did not, And a samurai too.

“He can’t have been much of a scribe,” she sniffed. “No apprentice, so he teaches his daughter to use a brush? What a waste. And the rags you wear?”

“He... died. Mother has struggled...,” I panted. “He was a good scribe... But there wasn’t much... need for one here... What do farmers need with contracts or letters?”

We moved quickly, speeding right past the path that led back to my home. Ah, well, I thought, we’ll join up with the main road and come into the village the long way.

“Yes,” she said, looking pleased with herself, “I suppose Lord Imagawa would be about the only client worth having around here in this wilderness. Don’t fall behind, child.”

I was beginning to sweat, in spite of the cold. The smell of approaching snow was sour in the air.

The rear servant—the one who wasn’t quite as enormous as the one the lady had called Little Brother—pulled even with me. Without turning his head, the man gave a low bark. Imperceptibly, the two men slowed to a pace that I could match. Grateful, I looked over toward the servant in the rear. I wasn’t sure, but I could have sworn that he winked.

I could see the bulk of Lord Imagawa’s castle though the open shutters of the palanquin. Banners flew from the roof that I’d never seen there before—blue and red. The old lady followed my gaze up the hill. “Yes, depressing old pile of rock, isn’t it?”

I couldn’t think of any way to answer that. I wasn’t sure that she expected me too answer.

“You really climbed all the way up to the windows?” She was looking at me closely. I nodded. “Yes, very interesting.” She clicked her tongue. “And today? I don’t suppose you could have seen anything of interest today.”

“Lord Imagawa,” I panted. “Soldier. Pointing at... drawing.”

Now her eyes widened. “You could see that from such a distance? Could you see what the drawing looked like?”

Green squares, surrounded by smaller squares of red and blue. What looked like little pine trees sticking out of the squares. I nodded.

The lady smiled again, looking like an old mother pig when it’s found a nice puddle to wallow in. Somehow the smile was even more frightening.

At that moment, we met up with the main road. I was certain that we would turn right, back toward the village, to my house, my mother, and that some explanation for this peculiar line of questions would present itself.

Instead, the palanquin turned smoothly left.

Confused, I stopped in my tracks.

“Stop!” the lady yelled. Little Brother and the winking one came to a halt. “Come along, girl!”

“But...?”

“I told you to keep up with me, child.” She wasn’t even looking at me.

“But... the village is...?” I pointed back down the road I had been walking most of my life, to the bridge I could see just behind the spur of trees that led to my house.

“Silly Risuko. Down!” The two men lowered her to the crossroad. Now she looked at me. “You are not going back there. Your mother sold you to me this morning.” She leaned out the window and barked at the carriers, “Go!”





2—Into the Circle


I began to back away. I was thinking—if I was thinking—that I could get underneath the bridge, in among the tangled beams where I had hidden so often before. No one had ever been able to find me there. Except, of course, my father.

Before I had managed even to stagger back to the small road leading to the bridge and to my home, a hand as big as a melon closed around my wrist. The giant called Little Brother’s expression was hardly threatening, but far from friendly. With his free hand he untied the belt at his waist, which turned out to be a thick length of smooth cord. He let his polished wooden sword fall to the road. Turning back to the palanquin, he grunted. “Wrists?”