Risuko: A Kunoichi Tale (Seasons of the Sword #1)(7)

I waited for the two maids to get in with her. I hoped, I suppose, that their weight might slow down the speeding Little Brothers a bit.

Instead, however, the two young women came to us, Mieko with her unreal glide and Kuniko with her solid gait. Kuniko addressed us, gruff and direct, her glaive planted solidly beside her. “We will be walking for the next ten days, if the weather permits. Keep up. Do not whine.” From the palanquin, Lady Chiyome’s voice snapped, “Go!” The two Little Brothers picked up the box and, just as they had earlier that day, sped away, leading us out of the inn yard.

Kuniko strode forward behind them, leading the pack horses by their reins with one hand, swinging the glaive like a walking stick in the other, and we stumbled behind her. Mieko brought up the rear.

I have wondered, since, what would have happened if I simply hadn’t followed—if, say, I had run into the streets of Pineshore and hidden in the woods behind the town. It didn’t even occur to me in the moment to do anything other than fall into line and try as hard as I could to keep up.

As we headed north out of the inn along the main highway out of Pineshore. We walked quickly through the blizzard-barren streets of the town. A few shopkeepers and rag-pickers looked up, startled, as we passed.

A horse galloped past us, also heading north. It splashed mud—this time on our haystack coats—and disappeared ahead. I wondered if it were the same rider who’d splattered me earlier that day.

Watching the charger, I barely had the time to register the moment when I went further from home than I had ever been—past the shop of the rice merchant for whom Father had written a contract for his marriage with Jiro-san’s daughter Kana.

We walked steadily. Just beyond the edge of town, a bridge arced across the old, wide Weatherbank River. A clump of Lord Imagawa’s soldiers stood guard, peering away from us, toward the north. The only one who was actually facing the town barely looked at us and waved us through.

Our pack horses’ hooves rang hollowly against the wooden planks of the bridge. The river was much deeper and slower there than it was near our village, and I marched along near the side of the bridge, watching the dark green water swirl around the pilings, wishing it were summer and now the impulse to escape came, simply to leap the side of the bridge and swim back up to where the river passed near our house. However, the Little Brothers kept their quick, steady pace, taking us back onto solid ground and out into the open world along the Great Ocean Road, leaving my little world of pine, oak, and hemlock, creek and castle behind us.

—

The highway was wide, flat and very bare. Most of the time, we traveled just inland of the shore, where what trees there were had a twisted, wind-stunted shape. Even when we were traveling near to woods, the trees seemed to have been cleared back.

“Probably to keep travelers safe from bandits,” suggested Aimaru when I pointed it out to him during a rare stop.

A group of Imagawa cavalry clattered past us, also heading north. The steam from the horses’ nostrils flowed behind them like hair, like a single ghostly, white tail.

“Also,” mumbled Emi, “makes it easier for us to stay out of the way of the troops.”

I nodded, but mostly I didn’t like it. My whole life had been spent surrounded by trees. Out there on the wide, flat road, I felt... naked.

As the sun began to dip toward the distant mountains, we discovered that sometimes even a highway isn’t always wide enough to allow us to stay out of the way of troops.

As we approached a crossroads, we saw that the main road was blocked by what looked like a thicket of armed men—more Imagawa soldiers. Not on guard, these, with many of them lying down. Many bandaged. Many bleeding.

A samurai in battered armor stood as we approached him, one hand out and signaling us to stop, the other on his sword.

Kuniko released the reins of the pack animals and held her glaive in both hands—the point still up, not threatening, but ready.

Lady Chiyome leaned out of her palanquin. “What is it? Why are we slowing down?”

“Can’t go this way, lady,” said the samurai.

We all gathered behind Kuniko and the palanquin. Mieko stepped in front of Toumi, Emi and me.

“We need to head up this highway if we’re to get past the fighting,” the old lady grumbled.

The samurai gave a laugh that seemed totally without humor. “Not this way you won’t,” he said, pointing behind him with a jerk of his thumb. “Only way you’ll get past the fighting down this highway is through the gate to the next world.”

I shivered.

“There’s a village a ways up that road,” the samurai said, pointing to the smaller road that led inland. “Least, it was there a couple of days ago. You can spend the night there, then follow the road up the Little Nephew into Quick River Province. Don’t think there’s too much fighting up that way.”

“But we have to—!”

“Lady, try to go down this highway and I’ll kill you all myself. No civilians.” He glanced at Kuniko. “Or... whatever.”

“Bah!” Chiyome-sama slammed her window shut, which the Little Brothers took for a signal to head along the smaller road. As we began to march behind them, I could hear her growl from inside her box, “Ruffian!”

By the time we reached the village, it was nearly dark. Kuniko moved up to talk to the old noblewoman. I could hear the shrill sound of Chiyome-sama’s raised voice answering in anger, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying.