Risuko: A Kunoichi Tale (Seasons of the Sword #1)(44)

We looked up, all of us, as if the mottled grey overhead were the bright blue of a summer’s day. “Hey, Risuko,” laughed Shino, “you’re supposed to be such a great climber—think you can get up into the big tree and see if the rest of the world is still there?” She pointed up at the huge hemlock that grew beside the great hall.

“No!” Emi gasped. “The tree is covered with ice! That would be dangerous.”

“Well,” sneered Mai, “I guess she isn’t such a great climber after all.”

Not waiting to hear any more—happy simply to get away from them all, if only for a moment—I leapt at the trunk of the huge hemlock. Though the bark was covered with glistening frost, it was rough and wrinkled, and the crevices were ice-free—perfect for climbing. I scampered up to the first branches in no time at all. Looking back down, I was pleased to see all of the other girls blinking up at me.

Fuyudori’s gaze connected with mine, and I knew with pleasure that she was thinking of a much more difficult climb that I had once made.

“Well,” grumbled Mai, whose sneer couldn’t quite cover her shock, “what can you see?”

I looked out over the wall. There was nothing but white. The downpour had stopped, and the clouds had lifted enough that I could see feathers of snow lofted from the ground by the soft, chill breeze. But all beyond the wall was blank and white—mountains, valley, sky. It was as if the rest of the world had been wiped away, as if nothing beyond the Full Moon still existed. “Nothing,” I said, hoarsely. “I can’t see anything at all.”

“So much for squirrels having sharp eyes,” muttered Mai, and Shino and Toumi laughed.

“Wait!” I called, as a pair of dark shapes began to push up over the invisible line of the ridge. “Riders!”

“You’re joking!” laughed Shino again, while Mai said, “Impossible.”

Emi frowned up at me, about to say something, but Fuyudori beat her to it, chirping, “It must be the Lieutenant. He left with Aimaru-chan and the Little Brothers this morning to check on the farms in the valley.”

“I don’t think so,” I called down. “It’s two horses. And they’re riding hard.” Even in the white-on-white landscape, and even though the grey chargers seemed to be making no sound, I could see the snow flying as they galloped, the riders leaning forward.

“Flags?” called our sensei from the teahouse. I could see the ink stains on her clenched fingers.

I suddenly felt cold. “Um. None. White cloaks?”

Before I had finished speaking, the teacher began to beat a rapid alarm on the small gong at the entrance to the teahouse. “Stay up there, Risuko!” she shouted, and then began to run toward the stables.

Women burst from the great hall and from the Nunnery, some in their miko garb, and others in light trousers and jackets.

The two horsemen charged on along the ridge; they were half of the way toward the front gate. I thought I could hear their hooves tearing at the snowy ground, but perhaps it was the sound of the women’s feet or my beating heart.

“What is it?” called Mieko.

“Riders!” shouted Fuyudori, who was wringing her hands beneath me.

One of the kunoichi sprinted out of the storeroom with two long glaives, one of which she tossed to our Chinese teacher, who caught it smoothly with one hand.

Behind the two white-cloaked riders, a third now appeared, his horse much larger than theirs, charging like a bolt of black lightning. On his helmet he wore a stag’s antlers. “Masugu-san!” I shouted. “He’s chasing them!”

The first two thundered toward the Full Moon, the steam from their nostrils clearly visible now. Were they going to try to jump the wall?

The two spear-bearing women had somehow made their way to the roofs of the guesthouse and of the stable, the long blades of their glaives flashing in the winter morning sun.

“They’re splitting!” I called, as one rider veered toward the east wall of the compound while the other flew west.

“Raiders?” barked Lady Chiyome from the front door of the great hall.

“Can’t tell!” one woman shouted from the wall. “Can’t see any insignia!”

I thought of the men who had captured me and Toumi that morning on the switchbacks. Enemy raiders. Bandits.

The two riders rounded the front corners of the compound at almost exactly the same time.

Where did they mean to go? The woods to either side of the Full Moon were thick and tangled, and behind the compound the ridge quickly gave way to a sheer granite mountain slope.

Masugu was clearly closing on the rider to the west, who I could see was looking for a way through the impassable woods, his head moving left and right even as his horse charged straight ahead.

I heard a sharp slap below me. Fuyudori had her hand to her pale face. “Snap out of it!” Sachi shouted, her expression empty of its usual laughter.

Like a peal of summer birdsong, metal met metal. Over the wall to the west, I could just see Masugu’s sword crash against the white-cloaked stranger’s. The impact seemed to knock the stranger back in his saddle, but he managed to stay on his mount.

“What’s happening?” shrieked Fuyudori.

I climbed higher, hoping to see better, dreading what I would see.

Masugu’s momentum had carried him past the other horseman. He wheeled his stallion and came at the other man, his katana raised high.