Risuko: A Kunoichi Tale (Seasons of the Sword #1)(24)
Toumi brushed past me, still muttering. “Stupid,” she snapped, and for once I knew she wasn’t talking about me. She picked up the lid, pulled out the ladle that was hanging on the inside of barrel, and began filling my bowl, which I held tightly in two hands. The kimchee was pickled cabbage, sharp-smelling and bright green and red.
I walked as quickly as I could without spilling any of the cabbage. By the time I had laid the first bowl at the head table and was coming back, Emi was shuffling out of the kitchen, her face a grimace of concentration.
As I walked back in to the kitchen, I saw Toumi starting to pick up a piece of the kimchee to taste.
“No!” shouted Kee Sun, slamming down his metal-tipped chopsticks so that the grate rang. “No one tastes in this kitchen except me, yeh hear!” A smile played briefly over his damp face. “That way if anyone dies, it’ll be me, right?” He shook his head and turned back to the hissing grill. “I knew yeh’d be a falcon-girl, swoopin’ in for the kill!” He demonstrated a hawk’s dive with his chopsticks and chuckled, turning back to the fire.
The sky had now gone completely dark outside, and candlelight flashed in Toumi’s eyes, bringing to mind an unsheathed blade looking for a place to bury itself.
We laid the tables with bowls of kimchee and boiled soy beans, mounds of rice, and bottles of rice wine from the pantry. Kee Sun barked out orders as he loaded three huge platters with the beef, the smell of which had now worked its way into our hair and our clothes, so that we were reminded of the delicious meal we could not yet eat even when we weren’t in the kitchen. Then he grabbed an unused ladle, stepped over to the back door of the kitchen, and swung the spoon at an enormous, dented gong that was hanging outside the door.
From the hall came a great cheer, as the entire company—Lady Chiyome’s household plus Lieutenant Masugu’s soldiers—flooded in to the dining area. The smell of the dinner had drawn them like moths to a campfire.
Kee Sun fussed with the platters, placing a bunch of watercress at the end of each, then he turned to us, gravely, and said, “If any of yeh drops yehr platter, I’ll skin yeh with the dullest, rustiest knife I’ve got, yeh hear?”
We all three nodded and said, “Hai.” Emi, though, began to titter, which caused Kee Sun’s fierce look to soften.
As we carefully walked through the doorway, which Kee Sun held open for us, Toumi, Emi, and I were greeted with tumultuous cheers. Many of the men and women had clearly already helped themselves to the bottles of sake; most of them sported ruddy cheeks.
Chiyome-sama was seated in the middle of the head table, Mieko on her left and the other women arranged to that side. Just next to Mieko there was an unclaimed space with a bowl and a pair of old chopsticks. I couldn’t imagine that someone hadn’t heard the gong; who was missing? Mieko spooned some rice neatly into the latecomer’s bowl.
Masugu-san sat to Lady Chiyome’s right, with his troops beside him. The Little Brothers and Aimaru were at the bottom of the men’s table. Aimaru smiled at me as I laid my platter at his table.
He seemed to be about to say something when I heard a loud voice from the other side of the hall call out, “Look at the new novices! They’re so small! No wonder they call that one Squirrel!” The women’s table exploded with laughter.
The voice had come from one of the blue-clad girls at the end of the table furthest from Lady Chiyome. That must be Shino and Mai, the junior initiates, I thought. Shino had a thick nose, as if someone had flattened it with a skillet. Mai’s face was sharp, every angle. I knew in a flash that Kee Sun had probably called her Foxy-girlie or something along those lines. “Squirrel,” chuckled Mai again, and Shino snorted.
Fuyudori, our white-haired senior, was smiling, but coldly, I thought—disapprovingly.
Masugu-san’s voice rang out. “Murasaki-san is small, it’s true. But the smallest squirrel will fight fiercely when provoked.” He smiled across to the younger women. “I would think that the women of the Full Moon would know that to be true if anyone did.”
Mai and Shino looked as though they had been slapped.
Mieko spoke, her voice low and pleasant, but her eyes flashing as she poured wine for Lady Chiyome—and for the missing guest. “It is most gratifying to learn that the men who visit the Full Moon have learned that lesson, too.” She looked down toward where I was standing, but it was not to me that she was speaking.
“Ha!” laughed Lady Chiyome as she picked up a piece of meat with her chopsticks. “I said it would be entertaining having the two of them here!”
The older women, those dressed as miko, roared with laughter. Mieko smiled primly, while Masugu turned bright red.
I gave Aimaru a small wave and then sprinted back to kitchen with three empty rice wine bottles.
When I came back, Toumi had already resupplied the men’s table, so I brought the sake to the women.
“Bring that here, Risuko!” called the youngest of the initiates. “Having fun serving at the tables?” she said, bright red circles marking her cheeks.
“You would know, Mai,” said Fuyudori, “since you were serving here yourself at lunch.”
Next to the white-haired girl, two of the older women chuckled.
“Least I’m not ‘fraid of soldiers,” slurred Shino.
Fuyudori’s face blanched, until it was almost as white as her hair. “I am not afraid. But I have cause to be cautious.” I thought of the story of how her hair had turned white—the attack on her village. “Do not we all?”