Risuko: A Kunoichi Tale (Seasons of the Sword #1)(53)

Lady Chiyome held up a shaking hand once more to reestablish the proper order of things. “Is this so?”

“Yes, my lady,” both Little Brothers answered.

A sob broke out at the far end of the room. Fuyudori was standing, her fist shoved into her mouth, tears flowing down her face.

“Stop it, girl!” Chiyome-sama snarled. “I think the meal is over. Shino. Take this worthless, white-haired idiot off to the Retreat. If it isn’t her moon time or yours, it will be soon enough.”

“But—!” Fuyudori sobbed.

Lady Chiyome had had enough. “GO! NOW!”

Fuyudori’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes flew open. She followed a fuming Shino out of the hall.

“And the rest of you stay where you are. All of you!”

Everyone in the hall was absolutely still.

“AND WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?” roared Chiyome-sama.

I flushed with fear, thinking perhaps that I was the one at whom she was yelling. I hadn’t moved a muscle, of course. I was terrified that someone could have tried to poison Masugu-san—someone from our own community.

Mieko however was standing with her hand ready to open the door. I was standing right next to where she had been seated and yet I hadn’t seen her rise or move. It was as if she had simply appeared on the other side of the hall. I saw the Little Brothers both flinch, telling me that she’d managed to move without their noticing either.

Mieko gave a simple, almost military bow. “This humble servant was anticipating her mistress’s always-wise command.”

Lady Chiyome’s rheumy eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

The maid, looking anything but humble, straightened. “I know more about poison than anyone at the Full Moon. I am the person best suited to treating Takeda-sama’s representative.”

Without looking away from Mieko, Chiyome muttered to the Little Brother still kneeling before her, “Is the boy there?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Go with my humble servant there. Send the boy back. Make sure nothing happens.”

The Little Brother touched his head to the floor of the hall.

Grunting, Chiyome-sama leaned forward onto her elbows, glaring at Mieko. “Don’t do anything stupid, girl.”

Mieko bowed again, less stiffly, and fairly ran through the door as soon as the Little Brother reached her.

I know more about poisons....

“Risuko!” shouted Lady Chiyome.

I found that my own feet had begun to lead me to the door. I knew that I couldn’t let Mieko alone with Masugu-san, not when she’d already threatened to kill him. For a samurai to die by poison was a dreadful waste. For Masugu-san to die...

Blinking, I turned back toward the mistress of the Full Moon, knelt and bowed deeply, my forehead touching the tray full of dirty bowls.

“Go tell Kee Sun what has happened to the lieutenant. Tell him to... assist that presumptuous chit in treating Masugu. Tell him that you may assist him, if he needs.”

Leaping to my feet, I started to run to the kitchen, stopped and tried to turn, bow and start running again, and tripped, sending the tray and bowls flying. Several of them shattered.

When I started to try to pick them up, Chiyome-sama roared. “Forget the dishes, idiot. GO!” As I flew through the door, I heard her growl, “The rest of us are going to stay right here.”





29—Proper Duty


“Mugwort!” growled Kee Sun, pulling out a bag full of tiny herb pellets. “Mogusa! The old folks burn these on your back every year, right?”

“Yes,” I said. My hands were shaking. I only hoped that the Little Brothers were watching Mieko closely. “On New Year’s Day. One pellet—”

“—for every year, yes, yes.” He took a deep breath. “Light these and hold them against the bottoms of his feet, hear? Till he wakes up. Raise blisters if yeh have to. Don’t stop till he wakes.”

“Yes, Kee Sun.”

He grabbed a pot of pickled ginger. “And wave this under her nose.”

“Her nose?”

“His nose! His nose.” He looked as if he were about to throw the clay pot at me. “Don’t sass me, girlie.”

“No, Kee Sun-san.” I took the ginger and held both herbs to my belly.

“Go.” He turned back to the stove, where he had a pot of water starting to boil. “I’ll be there as soon as the tonic is ready.”

“Yes, Kee Sun-san.”

“Go!”

I went. My mind was full with the previous night’s dream—about my father’s sword exercises, which were the same as Mieko’s slow dance—and with the argument that I had overheard, and with sound of the bodies of the two Imagawa soldiers thumping to the tatami—and I knew in my heart that Mieko was a killer. As lovely and graceful as she might seem, and as kind to me as she had been, she was trained to take life; I could not let her take Masugu-san’s.

The snow had stopped and the clouds broken; the morning was clear and still and very cold. I ran across the snow-covered courtyard holding the ginger and the mugwort as gently as I could in my trembling fingers.

The older of the Little Brothers stood at the entrance to the guesthouse like one of the statues of the thunder-hurlers at the entrance to the temple of the Buddha at Pineshore. His feet were set wide and his hand was on his sword hilt. Though his face was impassive, he was watching me fiercely.