《Silken Shadow》


 Language of the Bones

    Legends speak of the language of the bones¡ªhow mysteries of life and death and love, which cannot be understood by mortal minds, are solved in the skeleton.


    The strangeness of my life combines into a puzzle of impossible reckoning, but my bones know it, and if you hearken to me, your own frame will hear and answer the song of my story.


    * * *


    Stone lanterns cast long shadows over the combed gravel walks of Madame Ozawa''s winter garden. A hired poet stood under the eaves, singing the stanzas of a tale about star-crossed lovers, slow and mournful.


    Most of Madame¡¯s dinner guests had departed for the evening, all but a stubborn few lingered beneath the naked branches of the plum tree.


    Cook yawned, exposing a set of unsightly crooked teeth.


    "You finish cleaning up, Furi. I''m tired."


    The crockery crashed in the basin as I shifted a fragile tower of porcelain bowls, pots, and fragments of food among the scattered abalone shells. Leftovers from Madame''s feast. There was still so much work, and my shoulders collapsed at the sight of it.


    "Crush the shells out in the compost heap tomorrow morning, but you had better take them out to the garden right away or they''ll draw flies." Cook yawned again. "I''m going to bed."


    She left me, peering at an empty abalone shell and its watery iridescence under the low lamplight. Pretty, even in the clutter.


    At once, an idea unfolded in my mind''s eye. A shot of adrenaline spiked my blood, and the workday''s fatigue disappeared.


    With new-found energy, I piled shell after shell into my cotton apron and heaved them down the garden steps and along the gravel path back to the garden spring. Kneeling beside the pool''s edge of bare earth, I dug my fingers deep into the moist black clay. Yes! It would do nicely.


    I found a mochi mallet from within the garden shed and brought it down with a mean crack! on the shells, and then raced to the kitchen for another load. When I had finished breaking the shells up into fragments, I separated them by light and dark, stared at them, and sorted them again by color and intensity, leaving myself five piles of mother-of-pearl tiles organized by light and color. While I worked, a vision emerged in my mind''s eye, sufficient in clarity to propel my fingers to expert speed and precision.


    Within the hour, I had begun working out a seascape mosaic along the pool''s border of earth. By moonlight, the iridescent tiles gleamed white against black earth, wreathing the pool in soft light. I worked deep into the night, and smiled at the glowing design with the lunar reflection''s ethereal effect. I shivered, not with cold, but with the thrill of a vision born inside my head. It tickled me with its foolishness, if not outright madness. But I couldn''t silence the whispering of a warm southern gale, seeming to repeat the words:


    The gods will descend from their heavens to bathe in your garden pool!


    * * *


    Madame¡¯s daughter Satomi clucked her tongue as she stood over me where I crouched in the kitchen, drying the last of the porcelain from the prior night¡¯s dinner.


    ¡°Furi. Go to mother in her parlor.¡± She paused, the smug pleasure in her voice evident. ¡°I think you know the reason.¡±


    Madame¡¯s summons came without surprise. I knew she would notice the mosaic. Madame didn¡¯t need much provocation to punish me. My posture, the length of my neck, even the straightness of my gait irritated her. Any sign of dignity was an insult to her conviction of my inferiority, and she hated the sight of me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting.¡± Madame¡¯s warm breath blew a frosty cloud into the morning air as she knelt beside the table.


    I knelt and bowed my forehead to the floor. ¡°I am sorry, Madame. It was rude of me to be so slow.¡±


    She let me bend for a long moment with my head upon the tatami floor before she finally spoke. ¡°What have you done?¡±


    I knew, or at least guessed, but it was never a good strategy to appear savvy. ¡°I have so many faults. I haven¡¯t guessed for which you have called me this morning.¡±


    I kept my forehead planted steadfastly upon the floor, but I could feel her cold eyes twitch in irritation.


    ¡°It was your disaster I saw at the garden pond.¡±


    The mosaic, of course. ¡°Yes, Madame.¡±


    ¡°You stole the shells. You will pay the price. And you will clean them all up before guests arrive this afternoon. Now stand¡­and disrobe.¡±


    I stood, untied my robe, and let it drop, leaving me naked but for a thin cotton undergarment. As my clothing pillowed lightly around my ankles, my skin prickled against the assault of the winter air, but this was not a novel sensation. Madame¡¯s lashings were routine enough¡ªat least, they had been common enough this winter, and I stoically bared the fresh scars from my last instance of disobedience.


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    Madame¡¯s lip curled in disgust at my injured skin. ¡°You are such a disgrace,¡± she muttered as she raised the switch.


    * * *


    It was unusual for a merchant woman to possess grounds on the scale of Madame¡¯s garden, but the Ozawa mill was many generations old, and more prosperous than most, though the garden¡¯s glory had faded in my time.


    The mill¡¯s walls stretched many jou around the house and mill. The rich black earth nourished up aged and stately plum, persimmon, and maple trees. Fine conifers grew about the spring, though they had long outgrown the sculpting of a master. And most of the further growth crowded in a tangle of unruly wood and branch to the edge of the property. Still, I thought the grounds ample to the inspiration of a poet.


    Madame¡¯s gardener died some few years after my arrival. She declined to replace him. I didn¡¯t mind it, but this really meant the trees¡¯ maintenance fell mostly to me. And if I deviated in the slightest from the traditional garden of combed gravel walks and classically sculpted junipers and cypress trees, Madame found reason to punish me.


    Punishment notwithstanding, I wouldn''t lift a finger to destroy the mosaic around the mineral pool. Beatings were inevitable. I was born to create. It was the only pleasure I knew, and it was enough. I was willing to suffer for it. And although the price I paid was dear, I thought it my burden alone. It wasn''t.


    I had been the lowest ranking in Madame Ozawa''s servants, but there came one who might have been lower...and oddly, more threatening to Madame Ozawa. He came and went like the moon, exerting tremendous pull upon me, leading me far from my intended course.


    * * *


    A stranger awaited admittance on the southern veranda in full view of the household servants through the south-facing doors, and set the house buzzing. None of us had ever seen anyone like him. Bronze as typical of a peasant laborer, he stood a full head taller, and much broader than a peasant diet could reasonably support. The only thing to explain it was a secret source of nourishment. So we set him down as a thief as well.


    Worse still, he couldn¡¯t have been of pure Otoppon ethnicity. His eyes were set wider on his face and curved, almost like a foreigner¡¯s, and their frank stare at me would have affronted any person of respectable rank. But while his gaze angered me, I could not exactly justify my own indignation. I was little better than dust within Madame¡¯s house.


    I averted my eyes and ducked past him, withdrawing to an inner corner to take up some unfinished embroidery work. The servants and weavers whispered about him as they worked, calling him the bastard child of an Otopponese whore and a Vineland trading merchant. They weighed him, measured him, and declared him ugly, examining him by the rule of cohesion. I thought him a very worthy subject to copy, examining him by the rule of symmetry.


    Madame¡¯s was a sturdy house, with a clay-tiled roof, a broad surrounding veranda overhung by deep, heavy beamed cedar eaves, but few secrets could be kept between its retracting shoji walls. Some of this stranger¡¯s secrets were soon disclosed by Madame¡¯s grainy voice, elevated with contempt. ¡°You cannot satisfy Yamada¡¯s debt to me. Go back and tell him no. I have only a small farm for personal use. I¡¯ve no need for someone of your sort.¡±


    There was a pause, as she read the letter over and re-emphasized, with slightly more patience, her reasons for not needing him.


    ¡°I do not need much,¡± he said, almost in a whisper.


    ¡°I cannot board you under a proper roof.¡±


    ¡°I would be satisfied in the gardener¡¯s shed.¡±


    ¡°The roof leaks irreparably.¡±


    ¡°It will be fine, and you will find your increased yield far outweighs the balance of my daily bowl of porridge.¡±


    I was sure Madame wouldn¡¯t take in such an irregular person, and probable thief, but how wrong I was. I didn¡¯t know how exactly he managed to persuade her, but I suspected it was similar to my own case. Madame always had a sharp eye for a fine beast of burden.


    His name was Ansei¡ªonly Ansei, without family name. And beautiful or no, I hated him.


    The garden had been my sanctuary. My weaving, I worked by moonlight, because I required little sleep. Madame was strict about creative liberties and punished me whenever I followed designs of my own imagining.


    With Ansei in the garden, I would be confined to the mill by day, working tedious patterns under Madame¡¯s constant observation and vulnerable to Satomi¡¯s unchecked fits of temper.


    As the lowest of Madame¡¯s small number of servants, I was often shamed and victimized, but Madame was fond of reminding me that I had not suffered every humiliation common to female servitude in her house.


    I was lucky, for she had only elderly Tatsuo and no living male family members. And while I was routinely beaten, I was never violated. I had this single thread of dignity. A younger, and less than scrupulous servant as Ansei appeared to be might change this status, and the thought of him filled me with a complicated mixture of curiosity and foreboding.


    * * *


    Cook and Madame¡¯s maid Kame gossiped about Ansei for days. They bent their heads close and whispered. The words curse and bad luck reached my hearing repeatedly


    ¡°You should tell Madame,¡± Kame said, dragging her thin futon from the closet.


    ¡°Madame does not consult me about these things. She does not care for traditions. Think of it, she doesn¡¯t even keep her father¡¯s shrine,¡± Cook said, reaching into the tansu chest to tuck safely away the small Buddhist charm she wore daily. Then she screamed. ¡°Ah! Get out! You nasty spider! Quick! Give me something to smash it with!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t kill it,¡± I said. ¡°Spiders are good for the garden.¡± I scooped up a splendid specimen of an orb spider in a small square of fabric and released it gently outside on the veranda.


    ¡°Then he should stay in the garden, and out of my chest,¡± Cook muttered.


    I knelt down low on the veranda to observe the creature. ¡°You¡¯re a beautiful fellow, aren¡¯t you?¡± I whispered, watching him creep across the path.


    ¡°Only you would touch such a frightful little beast as that,¡± Kame said on my return.


    ¡°We would all be dead by pestilence, but for the assistance of frightful little beasts like him,¡± I whispered, unfolding my futon and small blanket.


    Cook muttered and turned on her futon to the wall. ¡°They¡¯re hideous creatures who eat their own young. I shouldn¡¯t be shocked at your preference for them.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t eat their young.¡± I said in a low voice, and mostly to myself.


    ¡°But they eat their mates,¡± Cook said. ¡°You will make me believe you a jorogumo.¡±


    ¡°Eating their mates is necessary to regulate the population¡ªthe females die after laying their eggs. If she didn¡¯t check the males, there would be no male and female balance. It is the way spiders survive,¡± I said, then added as an afterthought, ¡°And if I were a jorogumo, I would have to be the most passive spider demon there ever was. You have lived with me unmolested seven years.¡±


    Neither Cook nor Kame had more to say to me. We were, after all, on only slightly more cordial terms than Madame and myself. We had shared close quarters most of seven years, and we might have shared as much sympathy in our mutual humility, but Cook preferred to cling to her tiny step of superiority, and lorded over me and Kame both. But Kame flattered Cook for better treatment, and while they liked each other very little, they hated me, and often aligned against me.


    Was it any wonder I protected my fellow weavers of fibers? I could admire them for their industry and the beauty of their webs. I felt an odd companionability with them. Humans seemed to hate me, too, and I would take care of and shelter my creeping friends.

 Apple of Discord

    The door scraped across its track, and I stepped lamp-less off of the veranda and toward the winter-thinned plum trees. The sky loomed close, like a cluster of black, shining eyes following my every footfall inside the garden¡¯s recesses.


    I heaved the compost bucket to the far edge of the garden and threw its contents into a cold barrel, then hurried away, empty bucket banging my thigh as I hurried toward the house.


    The warm pressure of a large hand on my shoulder halted me in my path. I didn¡¯t wonder whose hand. I knew, and braced myself.


    A voice at my ear spoke, ¡°Shh. Don¡¯t be afraid.¡±


    I spun around, thrusting Ansei back with the momentum of my turn.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to frighten me, then don¡¯t sneak up on me alone in the dark.¡±


    He retreated a step and bowed low.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should have called you by your name, but I did not know it.¡±


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    I averted my gaze. ¡°You had better not call me anything. The house is full of gossips, and I¡¯ve no business with the new gardener.¡±


    His hand reached again for my shoulder as I turned to leave.


    ¡°Your name? Please?¡± His language was unusually courteous, for a man¡¯s discourse. But that might have been customary under such circumstances.


    I was of no mind to answer him. It was my tongue that betrayed me.


    ¡°Furi¡ª¡±


    ¡°Furi.¡± He repeated my name with a whisper, but his next words were bold enough.


    ¡°Stay a minute. Let me treat you.¡±


    His right palm revealed a bright red apple. His left, a blade. With a flick of the wrist, he divided the fruit.


    I had no idea from where he had taken the apple. Madame had no tree and its season was behind us.


    ¡°Where did you get it?¡±


    ¡°I worked at an orchard before coming here.¡±


    ¡°You mean you stole it from a merchant in the village!¡± I swallowed back the fluid the apple had called into my mouth. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m not hungry.¡±


    He bit loudly into the apple¡¯s crisp skin¡ªa kind of taunt, I thought, as I dashed up the stairs and into the house.


    * * *


    I discovered the lump later that evening as I undressed for bed. Reaching inside my stiff, canvas apron, I withdrew the second half of Ansei¡¯s apple. He had managed to slip it into my apron, and I hadn¡¯t detected it in the exterior pocket.


    I passed the fruit under my nose and inhaled its gentle fragrance, wondering. Was he playing some kind of a game? I frowned at the apple, even while my mouth watered, wanting to eat it. But it also felt heavy with obligation.


    What would Ansei expect in exchange for it? I didn¡¯t like to eat stolen goods. And yet, returning the apple was also a risk. I would have to go back to the garden in secret and meet him again. This must be what he had wanted. Perhaps it would be best to eat it and destroy the evidence at once.


    Sitting under the deep cedar eaves of the mill, I bit into the illicit apple, and instantly regretted. And yet, the flesh beneath that bitter surface was sweeter than any fruit I had ever tasted. Its complicated flavors stained my throat all the way to my belly.


    Something about the apple troubled me. It seemed to me as though the fruit were an oracle¡ªa promise of what was to come, foretelling perfect sweetness, wrapped in a skin of cruel bitterness.

 Punished

    The trick to hiding Satomi¡¯s weapon of choice, an old rosewood cane once relied upon by her grandmother, was to cast it aside carelessly somewhere out of her usual way, but also somewhere she might have reasonably put it herself. This preserved deniability if an accusation came.


    If I didn¡¯t hide the cane, Satomi would almost certainly finish her embroidery in a foul mood, and bring the cane down hard on my hands as I sat weaving. Yes, I was guilty of this and other little deceptions, because sometimes, Satomi forgot to accuse me of having committed them.


    But not this time.


    ¡°Mother!¡± Satomi¡¯s throaty cry filled the workroom.


    ¡°I can¡¯t find my cane and I know she¡¯s taken it! Tell me where you¡¯ve hidden it!¡± She slapped me with the broad side of her hand. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and rose to face her.


    ¡°Have you looked by your bookcase? Last time, we found it there.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not by the bookcase, you idiot. And by the way, I know it was you who hid it there last time it was lost.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go search for it at once.¡±


    ¡°You will produce it¡ªbut you¡¯ll get a lashing first! Mother!¡± Satomi screamed again.


    Madame was unfortunately not engaged, so disciplining her least compliant servant was little inconvenience. She entered the room, switch in hand. Kame was present, along with five of the day weavers. It seemed I could look forward to a public flogging.


    ¡°Furi. I grow so tired of this same dispute. Why will you not keep the cane always in the case by the doorway?¡±


    I bowed low to Madame, but said nothing.


    Madame frowned in affected frustration.


    ¡°Disrobe.¡±


    I didn¡¯t even glance at the witnesses. They had seen me humbled this way before. I wondered they even bothered to pause in their work.


    They did, however, pause. Watched me bare my ruined neck with keen interest.


    I had braced myself for the sting when the shoji door slid wide with a sudden thwack. I shuddered. With the opening of the door, my shame was complete.


    Ansei stood on the veranda, gripping the lost cane in his hands. How had he found it? My heart sank with the realization that he was repaying me for the previous night¡¯s slight in the garden. I only wondered how he had found the cane. It should have been behind Satomi¡¯s chest in her own bedroom.


    Ansei stared past me unseeing, and bowed low before Madame and Satomi.


    ¡°I am very sorry for having taken the cane. I thought it would serve as a planting instrument.¡±


    My spine went rigid. He had taken it? I had hidden it away only that morning.


    ¡°That belonged to my grandmother!¡± Satomi said, snatching the instrument back with a possessive huff.


    ¡°Please, forgive me.¡±


    Madame surveyed him a moment before speaking.


    ¡°Of course you must be punished,¡± Madame said, regarding him doubtfully. ¡°How could you presume to take my daughter¡¯s possession from the house and use it thus in the garden?¡±


    ¡°It was stupid of me,¡± Ansei said, holding his bow with his eyes averted.


    Madame put her weapon aside. ¡°Kame, go get Tatsuo.¡±


    Tatsuo was Madame¡¯s only older male servant. He kept the accounts and liaised between the mill and customers. But sometimes Madame Ozawa called upon him to do unusual tasks. Apparently, she expected him to discipline Ansei.


    I couldn¡¯t wonder she did expect it. Madame was a small woman, though fairly strong. The top of her head barely reached the middle of Ansei¡¯s rib cage. The notion of Madame disciplining Ansei to any effect seemed ludicrous.


    It was only marginally less ludicrous for the rather bent and aged Tatsuo to perform the duty. Madame explained to him in a few words and his mouth formed a grim line across his wizened face. Then he accepted the switch from Madame¡¯s hand.


    ¡°Disrobe,¡± Madame commanded Ansei.


    All in company stared stunned as Ansei untied his robe and let it fall to his feet. All breathed a collective gasp as he bared his unaccountably pristine skin, stretching taut over a sculpted frame.


    No servant of his rank¡ªno matter whom he served¡ªshould be so innocent of the slightest mark, scar, or blemish. His skin gleamed, perfect as a young child¡¯s. Was it possible he had never been beaten?


    The idea that Tatsuo, holding Madame¡¯s switch, should maim him, and for my crime, filled me with the purest shame I had ever known. Blood rushed to my face and I wanted to speak out and stop her, but what could I say?


    It was insane to contradict Ansei¡¯s self-confession. Apparently, he had taken the cane. And a defense from me would be more harm than good. If Madame suspected an alliance between Ansei and myself, it would not go well for either one of us.


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    Confused and angry, I watched, paralyzed, as the short whip stung and tore Ansei¡¯s perfect neck and back.


    * * *


    Later that evening, as the last of the weavers left their looms, I heard them whisper among themselves, ¡°I wonder what he asks of her for taking punishment on her behalf.¡±


    I shuddered at what the weavers implied, but rejected it. Surely Ansei was not as stupid as that. I had no status to offer him. And he was free enough to seek favors from the brothels not many miles away. It didn¡¯t make sense to risk his place in the household, however low it was, for my sake. And since I could make no sense of Ansei¡¯s actions, I decided he was touched in the head. Yet, even that seemed a poor explanation for his behavior.


    I felt and heard the whole household puzzling over what had happened that afternoon. Tatsuo¡¯s voice, elevated in anger, penetrated even to the kitchen.


    ¡°You had better send him away.¡±


    A pause for Madame¡¯s inaudible reply.


    Tatsuo screamed back, ¡°He¡¯ll bring bad luck to the house! I don¡¯t like it. Something is unnatural. Be careful, and lay off of whipping that girl! It isn¡¯t worth it.¡±


    ¡°Spare me your superstitious theories,¡± came Madame¡¯s dry reply. And the subject was dropped, though uneasily enough for Tatsuo.


    I knew Tatsuo embraced the ancestral spiritual traditions¡ªthe world of yokai, supernatural demons, ghosts, trolls and deities. It seemed he believed something supernatural of Ansei.


    My instincts tended to agree with Madame, where superstitions were concerned. I only partly accepted the very common lore of spirits and their dealings with mortals, but for practical reasons. In my position, I had no time or energy for burning incense to please the dead. I had no knowledge of my dead family members, anyway. Serving the dead was fine for Cook, but I wouldn¡¯t buy a talisman and walk around on tiptoes to avoid offending unknown spirits. I had too many living people to be cautious of. The spirits would have to await my death before settling their grudges.


    But what did Tatsuo mean by: lay off whipping that girl? It isn¡¯t worth it?


    Did he really believe Ansei was my spiritual protector? I couldn¡¯t help smiling at the idea. But I shook my head and sighed. It was a great pity Madame wouldn¡¯t accept Tatsuo¡¯s theory. Oh, the distance I could get with such a myth! But Madame would never embrace such a notion.


    As if to prove it, over the following days, Madame and Satomi both lit into me with fresh fury. My hands suffered from Satomi¡¯s abuse, but the sting was fleeting. Satomi had little leverage against me. Madame was different.


    * * *


    Most of my mornings began early, during the third quarter of the night. These dark hours were the best of my day, when I could work while the mill was quiet. Satomi and Madame slept long, solid hours. Once asleep, they never rose again before seven. Satomi awakened even later.


    If the nights were warm enough, as they had recently begun to be, I would withdraw the mill¡¯s shoji doors. By the light of the moon, I worked my designs into silk. The night and the moon seemed to transport me to a different place and time¡ªa place more beautiful than any I had ever seen by the harsh light of the sun.


    The loom was kind. Yielding. Productive. It seemed to become part of me as I wove rhythmically, up and back, back and forth. The waking dreams I dreamt, I spun tenderly into the threads at my hands. Though the silken illusions of my imagination were, perhaps lovelier, I was pleased with their physical representation. I knew they were good and they nourished me enough to preserve me through the drudgery of daylight hours.


    I was in this place of happiness when I heard the swift thwack! I knew well, but had only once before heard by night: Madame¡¯s whip as she sent it flying against the hardwood.


    ¡°What do you think you are doing? Did anyone authorize you to spend my resources in this way?¡± She stood behind me now, examining the design on the half-completed piece of fabric.


    I turned and bowed my head to the tatami.


    ¡°Madame! Forgive me!¡±


    Madame was deaf to my pleas. She tore my work down from the loom. She held it by two ends and ripped it through the center with the horrible shriek of breaking silk thread. I retrieved my destroyed fabric from the floor and stared at it, bitter tears flooding my eyes.


    ¡°You will pay for every cent of the thread you have wasted on your own vain ambition. Disrobe!¡±


    I obeyed. And I felt the sting of her switch cut clean through my skin, but my thoughts were only for the other weavings I had hidden within my chest like illicit children secreted away in the attic. If Madame went searching, she would find them. I breathed in relief when she left me and returned directly to her rooms in the house.


    My gaze found the horizon, and in a blink, I saw I had little time before sunrise. Without pausing even to wash the blood from my back, I pulled on my robe, and dashed back to the house and the bed closet where Cook and Kame still slept in thick mounds upon their futon beds.


    I dug deep into my chest, piling musty winter clothing and blankets up high beside it. Then, taking a breath, I gave a tug, and pulled up the false bottom. I withdrew my fabric, years of work which I kept carefully guarded in the bottom of my chest.


    I took it up gently in my hands, and wrapped it in a small woolen blanket. Then I stepped out to the garden, my bare feet padding nimbly over the cold gravel walk. I reached the shed, and being as quiet as possible so as to avoid awakening Ansei, I found a small cedar barrel, placed my bundle inside, and sealed it back up with a lid. By the light of the moon, I scanned the exterior of the garden shed for a shovel. Finding one, I retreated to the outer edges of the garden. I thrust the shovel into the hard-packed earth, and found it yielded easily. For almost thirty minutes, I dug and dug, then dropped to my knees, feeling around the cold earth for signs of excess dampness.


    I brushed the clay from my hands, pushed the four-tou barrel into the hole, and began puAnseig the damp earth back over the top of the barrel. I did my best to restore the patch to its original condition, but it worried me. As sun sent its first rays over the garden wall, I remained, staring at the patch of earth. Would it really go unnoticed? A sharp snap of a twig broke my fixation on the bare earth beneath me.


    I lifted my head toward the sound. Ansei stood a little way off, staring down at me with suspicion-hardened eyes. Mud covered my feet up to my knees. My robe draped clumsily around my shoulders, half concealing, half exposing the bloody evidence of Madame¡¯s midnight beating.


    Standing above the disturbed ground, I looked like a murderer desperate to hide a body. And if Ansei bore any grudge against me for the beating he had borne in my behalf, he would have ample material with which to settle scores.


    I pulled my robe around my knees and met his stare, daring him to speak, to raise any wicked accusation¡ªany boundless demand. The shriek of a heron shattered the stillness, and I braced myself, knowing what would come.


    In all the weakness of my orphaned youth, I had never stood so exposed as I did then to the whim of a fellow servant. To keep my secret, Ansei could have extracted any promise. I would not¡ªcould not¡ªhave withheld it from him. I was his slave. Any servant in his position would claim me his. It was his right.


    Instead, he averted his eyes, bowed low and remained bowed for several seconds. Then he retreated within the garden shed where he slept. I stood dumb for several seconds before I realized he didn¡¯t intend to speak.


    I exhaled in a rush of breath.


    Nothing! He¡¯d asked for nothing! I hardly dared believe I could be so lucky, but I had much to do yet before I could let myself take any time for reflection. I hurried to the well and stopped short. A bucket of freshly drawn water stood to one side. Next to it rested a clean washing towel. My gaze shot back to the shed. Had he done this?

 Open Wound

    Fingers trembling, I splashed myself, barely feeling the cold water on my cheeks, knees and neck. I managed to clean myself passably before the house began to awaken, and hurried back inside to dress and then repack my chest. As Kame returned from the servant¡¯s washing basin, I closed my chest with a satisfying thwump.


    She regarded me warily.


    ¡°Where have you been this morning? You look as though you¡¯ve been at the springs.¡±


    ¡°I had to wash. Madame beat me.¡±


    ¡°This morning? Already?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Kame dipped her head and muttered, ¡°Well at least she¡¯ll be well out of my way.¡±


    * * *


    All morning long, Madame made her search, violating every crevice and corner of the house before she was finished. Meanwhile, I retreated to a near corner of the garden with a small piece of complicated sewing, needle trembling uselessly between my thumb and forefinger while I watched. Intermittently, I bent my head to the job, senseless to balmy garden breezes, though not everything escaped my notice.


    It was only a tiny viol, standing innocently beside the now empty washing bucket I had previously attributed to Ansei. Goaded by curiosity, I rose to examine it. Opening it released an earthy aroma of white pine. It was a salve made from the bark and intended for healing abrasion. I glanced around for a sign of Ansei or any other person it might belong to, then inhaled again, longingly, while my back sent me stinging reminders of Madame¡¯s angry switch.


    Did I dare?


    Pressing my index finger against the salve, I applied a bit to the tender areas of my neck, and winced. Even reaching behind was too painful and I couldn¡¯t reach far enough. It didn¡¯t seem worth taking what might not be intended for me, particularly if I couldn¡¯t make use of it without a nurse.


    I replaced the jar and returned to my seat. As I worked, I kept one eye on the well, wondering whether I would see Ansei return for his medicine. It was not the kind of thing to misplace carelessly. As I worked and watched, I wondered about him.


    Who was he? Where did he come from? And what business did he have interfering with me? Surely there was nothing for him to gain by meddling, and quite a bit to lose. It seemed ludicrous to think Tatsuo was right in his superstitions, but I could make no other sense of anything. Why was I so aware of him? How did I sense his nearness without the slightest visual detection?


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    And if Tatsuo were correct in his suspicions, could I really believe Ansei a sympathetic being? Mightn¡¯t he also mean something terrible for me? After all, my quality of life had not improved since his arrival. It had only declined.


    Madame had discovered my disobedience and was more watchful than ever. Satomi, too, was stirred up against me constantly. I no longer dared spend my nights at the loom. I had neither the comfort of the garden, nor the pleasure of my own work. How long would it go on this way?


    For a long time, I hardly dared pursue my thoughts to their logical conclusions. They seemed to validate suspicions of the supernatural, or my own madness. But there was one occurrence I could not deny, and it stanched the fear that had bloomed up in my breast.


    The night following Madame¡¯s beating, I dreamed. This dream pressed into my mind with a vivid recollection that lasted long after waking. As the day wore on, it never faded, but ran continuously through my mind.


    I saw a garden spreading around me, untamed with wild growth. Poppies spilled from their beds. Pale azaleas carpeted the roots around a wood. And upon the branches of those tall pine trees, white lace fabrics draped¡ªglistening in the warm afternoon sun. The fabrics were more delicately woven than anything I had ever seen and I gazed at them in hypnotic wonder.


    A shallow bed of silk lay across a shady patch of grass. As my gaze fell upon it, a sense of fatigue overwhelmed me. I couldn¡¯t resist falling upon the bed and drifting into the most profound sleep I had ever slept. I could recall nothing more, but the distinct impression that this sleep was a healing slumber, and that while there, I would regenerate at a far faster pace than was usual.


    When I awakened to the rough surface of my worn futon in Madame Ozawa¡¯s house, the scent of pine lingered heavily in the air. Something cold and solid filled my right hand. When I opened my palm, I realized with a start what I held.


    It was the tiny glass viol.


    Stranger yet, I became aware of the cooling sensation of the salve massaged into the ravaged skin of my neck and back. But I had no memory of how it came to be there, or what invisible hand had applied it.


    My face flushed at the thought of this intrusion, but I checked the thought. I had a growing conviction Ansei had some kind of magical power. If he really were an immortal, then whatever he determined, either for or against me, I couldn¡¯t hope to escape.


    Later that morning, I stole a glance at my neck in a small mirror above the wash basin and gasped at what I saw¡ªor what I didn¡¯t see. My scars were faint¡ªnearly healed. I didn¡¯t know how that could be, but there it was, impossible to deny.


    My dream returned to my mind¡¯s eye. Something strange, even supernatural, was happening to me.


    I stole another glance at myself in the mirror. Whatever was happening seemed also to have stolen over my countenance. I didn¡¯t look merely well. I almost didn¡¯t dare to see, and yet I couldn¡¯t look away. Surely others could see it too.


    * * *


    In spite of contrary evidence, the dream, my healed neck, even my reflection in the mirror taught me to believe Ansei held goodwill for me. This confidence grew up inside of me, and touched everything, even the work of my hands.


    The change was so powerful, even uniform patterns became distinctly my own. Fabrics that should have matched exactly with other weavers shone more clearly and more brightly from my loom.


    Suddenly, Madame could sell my work for more money, because it was far finer, more elegant than anything the other weavers produced.


    It was a curious phenomenon, and strangers began to ask questions.

 Prized Weaver

    When a noblewoman and kitsuke artist visited the Ozawa mill for an advanced peek at the newest summer-weight silks, I noticed her speaking with Madame, and fingering a pale green brocade of my weaving with an appreciative caress.


    ¡°Madame Ozawa, may I ask, who is this brilliant prot¨¦g¨¦ who is weaving your most lovely silk? You cannot intend to keep us forever in the dark.¡±


    Madame Ozawa gently retrieved the green brocade.


    ¡°I am perfectly comfortable keeping House secrets, Madame Sato. You have yours, too, I know.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but this is different. There is something very special about some fraction of your fabric. You are harboring a genius in your mill and people are beginning to talk. Your prized weaver is going to be identified, and you should welcome it. She will bring you good fortune. You must show her to the world.¡±


    Madame bowed politely, though I could sense her frustration.


    ¡°Of course, of course, but let¡¯s discuss it no more. Fame can sometimes destroy weaker creatures. You wouldn¡¯t wish to endanger my pet, would you?¡±


    ¡°No, but an artist is not a pet.¡±


    Madame Ozawa gently guided her guest out of the room and into her private salon where others, and in particular, I could no longer overhear their conversation.


    I brightened at the notice Madame Sato had taken of one of my recent pieces. It was heartening to think that even while I copied Madame¡¯s patterns, I could transcend the mundane with a spirit of creation all my own. She had taken much, but Madame Ozawa couldn¡¯t take everything from me. And yet, this creativity wasn¡¯t all my own. I couldn¡¯t take full credit, and I wondered how to explain myself.


    As the days passed, I contented myself with my work, and though Madame now saw all of her customers in private conference, she couldn¡¯t hide the fact that she was receiving more and more customers from more distant regions. She couldn¡¯t hide my dwindling inventories, no matter how quickly, nor how long, I worked. And Madame Ozawa began to do something I never expected; she began to give me more freedom. She didn¡¯t explicitly say, ¡°Weave whatever you wish, Furi.¡± But one day, she asked my opinion on a piece of embroidery.


    ¡°What do you think of this butterfly, Furi? If you could change anything, what would it be?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how to answer. Madame had never asked my opinion in this way before, and at first, I thought it was a trap. I replied with a terse, ¡°Nothing Madame. It is perfect as it is.¡±


    But she pushed me. ¡°Of course. It is a classic design. I know it wants nothing, really. But there is an artisan in Yoshioka prefecture selling a variation on this design, and making quite a sensation. I think we might do as well as he does. What would you do if you had to change it?¡±


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    ¡°Of course, it would be inferior to the original,¡± I prefaced, to be safe, ¡°But if I had to make a change, I would do this¡­¡± I traced a design of a butterfly with added dimension, implying more movement, making it dynamic. Madame only nodded, and said nothing more.


    Later that week, she asked my opinion about another design and then another, and slowly, I began to see that she wanted me to replicate them. I knew she did not want me to work them during the daytime. I felt, distinctly, that she wanted me to weave or embroider them at night, unseen by the other weavers.


    I could go on pretending not to understand, but something inside me yearned to do more, to be more. I decided to make a test. And so, I arose from my futon at midnight and worked at my loom until dawn. In the morning, I crept into the silk closet where Madame stored all of my work, and placed the fabric gently atop the small pile of silks of my own weaving. Then I crept back to my futon and slept one final hour before the house awakened.


    The following day, Madame made no sign of affirmation or approval. No. But neither did she make any sign of anything amiss. She behaved as though nothing had happened at all. I had no question of her having seen my nighttime production. She saw it, and she must have approved. In fact, the following evening, when I crept back into the closet, I noticed it had been removed, possibly already sold.


    Madame continued to speak to me in brief, coded messages. She would mention a design that was popular in a distant prefecture¡­or something she had heard of the Emperor¡¯s daughter herself having worn. I knew, then, that she wanted me to try something similar.


    Perhaps I should have known better than to let her lead me along with her hints, but I ached to create, and I hoped against hope, that Madame Sato was right. Someday, I would be known to the world. Someday, I would be free to work as I wished, and receive commendation for what I had done.


    Even with all my precaution, I was not the only one to notice the increase in demand for my work. Other weavers noticed as well, and tensions between us began to rise. A few of them tried to mimic me. But since I confined my most innovative work to the nighttime, mimicry wasn¡¯t easy. So some began to complain about me. If they could not think of an honest complaint, they invented one.


    ¡°Madame, Furi has taken my spools. I don¡¯t know why, but they¡¯re gone and no one else would do it.¡±


    ¡°I did not. You¡¯ve hid them yourself in the closet,¡± I defended myself.


    ¡°See! It must have been her. Here they are in the closet. Only the thief could have known where they were.¡±


    Madame sensed the jealousy, and wanted to appease her paid weavers. She made a display of whipping me, though I think a bit half-heartedly. But I couldn¡¯t be grateful to Madame for her tepid abuse. I burned at the injustice. It seemed no matter how well I did, I would always receive her hatred.


    But no amount of abuse could satisfy Madame¡¯s weavers. They saw how quickly I produced, and they knew their own work was not met with anywhere near the same demand. They grew more jealous, and began to whisper among themselves, so quietly, I could not hear more than one or two dropped words together, but one of the words was Ansei.


    I knew the weavers were plotting against me. I also knew I couldn¡¯t depend upon Madame for protection. She may not like to be rid of me, and I took some confidence from that, but since I had no one in whom I could confide my worries, I worked and waited for the attack to come.

 Allies

    Tension filled the workroom as the weavers bent over their looms, hands busy, but eyes wary. I read anticipation in their exchange of meaningful glances, and in the way they watched for Madame and for me.


    I met their eyes with a challenge in my own. And for a moment, I believe I scared them. But they would pursue their conspiracy.


    It happened as soon as Satomi had conveniently finished her late morning breakfast. I never doubted her cooperation in the scheme. She stomped into the room, bawling an affected plaint, and calling for her mother.


    ¡°She¡¯s done it again! She¡¯s taken Grandmother¡¯s cane!¡±


    This time, the theft was not my doing, but it didn¡¯t matter. I would be thoroughly whipped for it anyway.


    Madame retrieved her switch and returned to the room. She gave me a terse nod as if to say, ¡°You know what to do.¡±


    I did. Drawing a slow breath, I loosened my robe and let it pillow around my ankles without a rustle. As I did this, the air in the room tightened. I almost thought I could hear the watchers cease to breathe. Madame paused. Blinked. Her right hand trembled an instant as she raised the switch.


    There was not a scar on my back Madame didn¡¯t know. Now she was astounded to see my neck made somehow new, bright as new-fallen snow.


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    The shoji door slid wide and heads swiveled to face the veranda. We all expected Ansei, standing in the doorway with the late morning sun shining behind him. He was part of this mystery and everyone knew it.


    But Tatsuo stood on the veranda, leaning his aging body against the rosewood cane.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Madame. I have the cane. Please don¡¯t punish Furi.¡±


    Madame stared in disbelief.


    ¡°Where did you find that?¡±


    ¡°Find it? No. I took it. I have felt the need of something to aide my step these many months. I thought I would give it a try. I¡¯m sorry, Satomi. I know how you prize it.¡±


    ¡°If you need a cane, Tatsuo, you have but to ask for one,¡± Madame said, pressing her lips together tightly.


    ¡°Yes. Yes, thank you. I would like a cane.¡±


    Satomi exhaled heavily in frustration.


    ¡°Don¡¯t defend her. I know she took it before you did. Mother, you can¡¯t let her get away with teasing me.¡±


    Madame rotated between Satomi and Tatsuo. I believe if Tatsuo had left the room then, Madame would have resumed her beating. But he stood frozen, daring Madame to strike me. For a moment they glared at each other, standing at impasse. Finally, Madame stamped one foot, threw down her switch and quit the room.


    Forcing a confrontation that lead to Madame¡¯s defeat in front of her servants meant a grave loss of face for Madame, and Tatsuo couldn¡¯t avoid some kind of consequence for having done it. I wondered what motivated him to take such a risk.


    I didn¡¯t know how, but I had a vague suspicion Ansei played some role in this event. I didn¡¯t know how Tatsuo had found the cane, and Satomi couldn¡¯t puzzle it out either. No doubt she had hidden it away herself. Perhaps Tatsuo found it by the same magic which Ansei had procured it when I had hidden it behind Satomi¡¯s chest. Perhaps this was Ansei¡¯s doing again.


    I might have gone on merely guessing, but I desperately needed an ally, and so, determined to confront him.

 Rash Promises

    Ansei had made no attempt to speak to me since the night he had given me that apple. Even when he had seen me bury my weaving deep inside the furthest reaches of the garden, he hadn¡¯t spoken a word. There might be nothing to gain by speaking to him now, and something to lose. Because of the weavers¡¯ conspiracy against me, I couldn¡¯t openly befriend him without bringing us both under suspicion and probable punishment.


    I considered entering the garden after nightfall, but this created other problems. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to awaken Ansei out of sleep. A visit from a woman at midnight would have a particular look to a lone man. This troubled me, but I don¡¯t know if it would have deterred me. The weather resolved the conflict.


    * * *


    I awakened, as was my former habit, in the early morning hours, and went to my loom by moonlight. But the night was so dark, and no matter how wide I opened the doors, the room was too dim, even for my sharp eyes.


    I didn¡¯t dare burn anything. Oil was too precious, and Madame would notice if I burned it all night long. So, I went to the veranda, sat down and watched the garden. In the distance, I could perceive the linear exterior of the shed where Ansei slept.


    A slight breeze carried the scent of an approaching storm. Not long later, the darkness deepened, and heavy clouds opened up in a torrential rainfall. If Ansei had not awakened yet, he would soon.


    Within minutes, the shed door opened and an indistinct figure raced across the gravel path toward me. He leapt up under the deep eaves of the mill, and paused. For a moment, we stared at each other.


    Finally, I spoke.


    ¡°I won¡¯t say anything to Madame. Sleep under the eaves.¡±


    He nodded a slight bow.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    His simple cotton robe clung to his broad frame, and dripped rainwater to the floor.


    ¡°You can¡¯t sleep in that, I whispered. ¡°Tatsuo may have a spare dry robe hung by the wash basin.¡±


    Ansei shook his head sharply and then I noticed he carried a small, neat bundle in one hand. He carefully unfolded a clean, dry robe and though I looked away, I stole a quick glance over my right shoulder and suppressed a gasp at his exposed back, innocent of all traces of Tatsuo¡¯s recent beating.


    After tying his robe, he approached an increment closer to me, though too distant for a whispered exchange. I closed the further distance, and asked, ¡°You come and go within the house and somehow no one ever notices. How do you do it?¡±


    A shy smile just touched the corners of his mouth.


    ¡°I anticipate telling you my secrets someday, but you don¡¯t really expect to have them now, all at once, do you?¡±


    I started at his strange answer and felt the heat travel across my face.


    ¡°Granting that you have secrets I am unready to learn, why should you promise to tell me any of them?¡±


    ¡°It seems only fair that I share mine someday.¡± He paused for a breath. ¡°After all, I know yours.¡±


    My eyes snapped wide in surprise. Surprise, yes, but not doubt.


    ¡°Mine?¡± I snatched a quick breath. ¡°Do you¡­do you know where I came from?¡±


    He gave a curt nod.


    ¡°Your mother and mine were¡­acquainted.¡±


    I let go of a long breath and felt the warm rush of blood to my cheeks.


    ¡°Were acquainted. Is she dead, then?¡±


    ¡°Shortly after she left you, I was told.¡±


    ¡°Do you know whether I have any other family?¡±


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    ¡°A few, yes¡­but your people were different: roamers, artists, political dissidents. They¡¯re not well integrated with larger society, and they couldn¡¯t keep you.¡±


    I knew what this meant. They were eta¡­the burakumin, or outcasts. I had long suspected I was from this rank-less class of Ottoponese society. Who else abandoned their child on a genkan?


    ¡°Is my father alive?¡±


    ¡°No. He passed with your honored mother.¡±


    ¡°Also of illness?¡±


    Ansei hesitated.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    I sensed Ansei¡¯s discomfort as he spoke, and I didn¡¯t know whether I fully believed his story, though I wanted to, badly.


    ¡°What were they like¡ªmy parents?¡±


    ¡°Your mother was also a brilliant weaver. Her work was truly fine. Better even than yours.¡±


    My brow arched.


    ¡°What do you know about my weaving?¡±


    I thought I saw him flinch, as if I had caught him in a mistake, but only barely, and he wouldn¡¯t answer. And by this, I knew he had more secrets he might tell, and wouldn¡¯t.


    ¡°What about my father?¡±


    ¡°He was a warrior¡­¡±


    I gasped, ¡°My father?¡±


    ¡°Once, yes¡­but he displeased a ranking official and lost his title. Later, he took care of cattle.¡±


    That alone would explain my family¡¯s outcast status.


    Ansei sent me a nervous smile.


    ¡°But your father was a great and loyal man. You would have been proud of him. He and your mother share quite a love story.¡±


    ¡°Tell it to me!¡± I leaned in eagerly and almost took hold of him, before recollecting myself.


    Ansei stiffened.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t for me to tell. But there are records¡ªnot safe to carry. Some would call them seditious. Maybe someday I¡¯ll be able to take you. Let you see them yourself.¡±


    We fell silent for a moment, and I understood then what Ansei had meant about secrets and my readiness to hear. In a short conversation, the telling of my history had forced an intimacy I was unprepared for. What was more, Ansei seemed torn to relate it. I couldn¡¯t be sure why he had even shared it. Still, I took little caution from this insight, and instead, believed him my benefactor.


    ¡°You came here for me? To tell me my past?¡±


    He assented with a terse, almost unwilling nod.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say. Do you know what that is worth to me? How can I ever show you?¡± I hungered to know the price, and would have given him almost anything to remove the debt.


    Ansei¡¯s mouth smiled, but his eyes saddened. Finally, he shook his head in absolute rejection of my gratitude.


    ¡°There is no debt. I came into service here as much for my own reasons¡ªnot to put us on unequal ground. Remember, you know nothing about me.¡±


    I could but stare at him. What I already knew of him was hard to comprehend. He had taken my beating for me; had done something to my lashings¡ªhealed them in some remarkable, even miraculous way¡ªhe had brought me the first knowledge of my mother and father¡¯s identities; then warned me not to trust him?


    ¡°Your help will be a burden to me if you say I cannot trust you.¡±


    He exhaled in apparent frustration.


    ¡°I don¡¯t forbid you to trust me. I only meant¡­¡± he sighed heavily and continued brokenly. ¡°Someday, I may want to ask something of you¡ªsome extraordinary something I have no right to expect you to honor. And you are under no obligation for what little I¡¯ve told you about your mother and father.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°Someday, you will ask me? I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    He whispered in reply, ¡°We shouldn¡¯t talk here.¡±


    I agreed.


    ¡°Nor during the day. The weavers watch me, and suspect¡­¡± I hesitated to speak the scurrilous words.


    ¡°They can¡¯t help themselves. Tomorrow night at midnight, if the rain stops, I¡¯ll meet you at the plum tree.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± I said, and snatched at the neck of my robe. Carefully, I pulled a small piece of red silk from where I kept it hidden always above my heart. ¡°My mother swaddled me in this piece of silk when I was a baby. I want you to keep it. A token of the secrets you have told me, and still promise to tell.¡±


    Ansei pushed my hand away.


    ¡°I can¡¯t take it.¡±


    I frowned.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say you could have it. Only keep it for me. I don¡¯t want to lose the right to return to this subject again. If you hold the fabric for me, I won¡¯t be able to help it.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he repeated, and frowned a warning, but I was determined and wouldn¡¯t let him discourage me.


    Lightning flashed. A clap of thunder followed. I scarcely noticed, but set my jaw and met his gaze unblinking. When he glanced askance, I reached my hand to the neck of his robe, pulled it apart, and tucked the red inside against the visible rise and fall of his naked chest.


    Eyes closed, he accepted it with no further resistance. And when I withdrew, he covered the spot where my hand had touched him with his open palm.


    * * *


    I soaked my futon through that night, mourning for my dead mother and father.


    Next day, for reasons I couldn¡¯t fathom, Cook and Kame both awakened ill. Both emptied their stomachs outside over the veranda.


    ¡°Since you have miraculously escaped any trace of sickness, Furi, you¡¯ll take care of meals until Cook is well,¡± Madame said. ¡°When you¡¯ve finished in the kitchen, you can take care of Kame¡¯s chores.¡±


    I could never finish the work in time to meet Ansei, however late, but it didn¡¯t matter. The weather coincided with my emotional flood. It rained torrents for several days.


    * * *


    During the downpour, I never saw any hint of Ansei¡ªnot during all the midnight hours. Not under the eaves during all the storms. I couldn¡¯t discover him anywhere, and his means of disappearing was a secret he intended to keep.


    I didn¡¯t care. Whether he wished it or not, I was awed by his mystery, his power of healing, the depth of his knowledge, and his breathtaking generosity to me. I wouldn¡¯t demand to know the source of his power.


    I didn¡¯t know what it meant to be an immortal, but I accepted Tatsuo¡¯s theory. And if Ansei were all that, I was sure when he trusted me enough to make his request of me¡ªno matter how great his demand, I was bound to comply.

 The Forbidden

    I would not enter the garden while the sun was up. Not willingly. As events unfolded, however, the choice wasn¡¯t mine. The weavers had conspired against me, and I couldn¡¯t oppose them.


    On the first morning after the rain cleared, Cook appeared by the side of my loom.


    ¡°The plums are ready. Today is the day.¡±


    ¡°No. It is still early. Give the fruit another week, at least.¡±


    ¡°It must be today, or they will be spoiled.¡±


    ¡°Then ask the gardener to preserve them. I have enough work here at the loom.¡±


    ¡°Ansei is already busy harvesting one tree. You must help with the other.¡±


    It was my usual task to ferment the plums from Madame¡¯s garden, but I did not think Cook¡¯s urgency had anything to do with plums.


    ¡°Cook. I am busy here.¡±


    ¡°Shall I tell Madame you refuse?¡±


    I bit down hard. If Madame knew of my disobedience, she would punish me. And I would still be forced to harvest the plums alongside Ansei. There was nothing to do but take the bucket and ladder and hope Ansei would be wise enough to avoid me completely. Cook and others would be watching us and would take encouragement from any form of friendly exchange.


    I marched out to the plum tree and examined the still green fruit. It was as I expected, days earlier than ideal. Plums are always harvested green and fermented in salt, the product transforming from green to a pale pink. But they were too early. I noticed Ansei already making fast progress on the other old tree. At his rate, we would soon be harvesting from the same tree. I wished he would work a little more slowly.


    If Ansei had seen me, he gave no sign of it. And I gave him credit for sharp instinct in the apparent slackening of his pace. I worked more quickly on my tree, harvesting first the low hanging fruit. Soon, however, I needed the aid of a ladder. As the morning wore on, I was beginning to feel easier about how little satisfaction Cook would be taking from watching us, busy at our different trees.


    I began, even, to enjoy the warmth of the summer sun on my back and the fragrance of pleasant garden life among the greenery. I climbed higher, to reach the fruit, and it wasn¡¯t until I had filled my basketful that I heard a loud crack from below. I tumbled to the ground, spilling my basket, and twisting my leg in the broken rung. I yelped in pain and instantly, Ansei was bending over me. Faster still, I sent him a warning glance and a sharp signal with one hand.


    ¡°Go to the house,¡± I whispered.


    He frowned, perceived my meaning, and steadfastly ignored it.


    He bent down on one knee and untangled my right leg from the piece of broken ladder. Then he carefully examined the injury, applying gentle, but firm pressure to the wound. It was bruised, even I could see, and swollen, but I thought not broken. He rested the ankle on the grass, snapped up a piece of the ladder, then marched into the house.


    I had a long wait, before Tatsuo, not Ansei, appeared, standing above me and staring at my swollen foot.


    ¡°Can you stand?¡± he asked, one hand squeezing my ankle and sending tremors of pain up and down my leg.


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    ¡°Ah. Not without help, I think.¡±


    Tatsuo bent low and pulled me up onto my good leg, then he lent me a boney shoulder, by which aide, we slowly returned to the house, me hopping and wincing as we went. Tatsuo helped me into my sleeping quarters and prepared my futon for me while I leaned against one wall. ¡°What a rag this futon is. Don¡¯t you have anything better?¡±


    I shook my head no and he muttered something I didn¡¯t hear clearly.


    I rested for the remainder of the afternoon before Madame appeared. She glanced askance at my swollen foot and then asked me for my account of events. Then she murmured some complaining words about lost labor and left me.


    My evening meal was forgotten, and had I not begged Kame for some tea, I would not have had even that for sustenance. I was fairly certain of Cook¡¯s, or someone¡¯s, having sabotaged the ladder. Or why else had Ansei examined it with such a grim expression before carrying the evidence away with him? Tatsuo, at least, seemed to believe his account. And perhaps Madame, too, when faced with the evidence. Cook would be warned, for the losses in umeboshi and labor, if not for the personal harm to me. But where was Ansei now? And how could I safely meet him as long as my ankle throbbed so angrily?


    Cook and Kame were long asleep when the scrape of the shoji doors came slowly, sliding open along their track. Someone was entering the room.


    My gaze darted to the opening door where Ansei stood, peering in at me. He tiptoed inside and knelt beside my futon. ¡°How is your ankle?¡±


    ¡°Never mind my ankle. You¡¯ll awaken Cook and Kame! You have to leave at once!¡±


    Unworried, he whistled faintly at the sight of my swollen ankle, then winked.


    ¡°Neither Cook nor Kame will awaken. I promise.¡± He helped me to a sitting position while I stared at him, eyes wide.


    ¡°Another secret revealed,¡± he said, holding a dried herb I did not recognize between his index finger and thumb. ¡°It¡¯s a potent insomnia antidote. They will sleep well into the morning.¡±


    I gasped, ¡°How did you manage it?¡±


    ¡°That secret, I will keep for now.¡±


    ¡°Where did you get it?¡±


    ¡°It grows in my herb garden, among other medicinal plants. And I brought some of these to care for you now. Do you trust me?¡± Ansei¡¯s warm expression met mine and I gave a mute assent.


    First, he removed my blanket and folded up the hem of my night robe. Then he opened a salve and began applying it gently to the bruised and swollen foot. His hands were gentle, and conductive of something more than warmth. Under his touch, I found myself relaxing even toward sleep. Did he drug me too? I wondered, without daring to accuse him.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t drug you, if that is what you are wondering.¡± He said, apparently reading my thoughts.


    ¡°But it was you who applied the pine salve to my back,¡± I said, forcing the subject I really didn¡¯t want to visit.


    ¡°There was no sedative, and the way I applied the salve without discovery is a secret I¡¯m unable share.¡±


    I half stifled a tremor.


    ¡°Whatever you did healed me completely. It was like magic.¡±


    ¡°Only because you don¡¯t understand it,¡± he said, steadily avoiding meeting my gaze.


    ¡°Where did you learn to heal people?¡± I asked, and averted my eyes to avoid detecting him in yet another lie.


    ¡°I once had a friend who was a very learned herbalist.¡±


    When he withdrew his hands, an involuntary sigh escaped my lungs before I caught myself, and the hint of a smile quirked the corners of Ansei¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Your ankle will be well soon.¡±


    ¡°Only to be tricked and sabotaged again.¡±


    ¡°And if so, I will help you get well again.¡±


    ¡°Ansei,¡± it was the first time I had ever called him by name and he responded with a soft touch of his hand on my knee. ¡°Will you drug them every night?¡±


    He withdrew his hand.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t have the stores, for one¡­¡±


    ¡°And¡­?¡±


    ¡°Over using herbs is a good way to be discovered.¡± He seemed to be speaking from experience.


    ¡°But the weavers are conspiring against me, and they will use you against me.¡±


    ¡°They will only harm themselves,¡± he predicted. He seemed so certain; I almost believed him.


    ¡°They¡¯ll find a way eventually.¡±


    He put a finger to his lips and as quickly as he¡¯d come, disappeared back into the garden.


    That night, I slept deeply and continuously until morning.


    Ansei¡¯s prediction about my recovery proved accurate. By mid-morning I was ready for a crutch and could sit and work at my loom with some propping up with a zabon cushion.


    I worked all afternoon under the frustrated glances exchanged between weavers. And there was more than frustration; there was grim determination, and another plan ahead.

 Earth & Spade

    I sloughed away any remaining mistrust of Ansei like an outgrown skin, without knowing him or understanding his motives for kindness to me. He never could justify to me his coming to Madame Ozawa¡¯s. He never would explain why he was helping me, healing me. It was as though he was somehow bound to perform these miraculous rites, without any compensation. But that wasn¡¯t quite true.


    If I were honest with myself, I would acknowledge that he had implied that there might be a cost to come. One day there would be a reckoning. Yes, and somehow this deed would eclipse everything he had done for me. And still, I couldn¡¯t imagine ever having power to give Ansei anything of value.


    Time¡ªmuch time¡ªtaught me this was only a failure of imagination on my part.


    * * *


    By night, Ansei and I cloistered in the private recesses of the garden where he revealed to me his mysteries of the earth and spade. Since arriving at Madame Ozawa¡¯s house, he had not been idle.


    ¡°These are my medicinal herbs. I don¡¯t dare plant them too extensively. They¡¯re not ornamental, after all.¡± He knelt down and gestured to the differing flowering and leafy bunches. ¡°Motherwort, passionflower, ginseng, burdock, rhodiola.¡±


    ¡°What is this?¡± I pointed to a small bush that he had apparently grafted with little sprigs bearing tiny white flowers.


    ¡°That¡ª¡± he said, encasing the plant between his hands protectively, ¡°is an experiment. If it works, once tinctured, it will make a fairly potent antidote for blood borne illness.¡±


    I started.


    ¡°That is truly wonderful. Will you sell it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said, but seemed doubtful.


    ¡°But such a medicine would be so valuable.¡±


    Changing the subject, he gestured to another corner of the garden.


    I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye¡ªhis jaw set; his mouth grim. Another secret? Somehow, I sensed this antidote might not be for everyone.


    ¡°Yes. Show me.¡±


    Ansei was not only an herbalist. He was an artist. In one short season, he had begun training cypress, pines, and azaleas into the beginnings of a stunning miniature collection. I could hardly believe how life thrived beneath his touch. And yet I could believe it.


    ¡°Has Madame seen these?¡±


    Ansei shook his head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if she would approve them entirely. I promised her a harvest.¡±


    ¡°And she¡¯ll have it. I have seen the vegetable garden.¡±


    ¡°Come,¡± he gestured with his head. ¡°The greens are ready.¡±


    He pressed a small harvesting knife into my palm and we knelt between the furrows of the tender plants.


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    It was a white night, clear and luminous, as only the first night following heavy rains can be. The thrumming song of the cicadas and the percussion of the bullfrogs rose above the sound of our movements between the furrows.


    ¡°Careful with that one,¡± Ansei whispered and I started when his giant hand covered mine. He lifted a heavy leaf and revealed a large orb spider crouched below. ¡°You were about to disturb one of my best workers.¡±


    I released a quiet gasp, and peered upward, studying Ansei¡¯s eyes. How had he even noticed the spider? Ansei seemed to know the placement of every mysterious thing. His movements were quick, yet perceiving. He was gentle, kind, but exquisitely restrained. Here was a man of no rank, no wealth, and yet, somehow¡ªagain, I remembered Tatsuo¡¯s suspicions of his immortality, and I could not tear my gaze away from him.


    When we finished in the garden, I sank low into a parting bow, but before I retreated a step, Ansei¡¯s hand caught my elbow.


    ¡°I can¡¯t let you go inside like that.¡±


    I glanced down at my cotton robe. Damp earth stained the hem and the area where I had knelt on the ground. I had also managed to soil my hands and knees and could not return directly to the house.


    ¡°It will be hard to wash the robe and yourself without anyone¡¯s notice.¡±


    I instantly understood he was right.


    ¡°Wash at the spring, and I¡¯ll take your clothing and return it clean.¡±


    I nodded, and followed him to the spring deep inside the garden. Shadows of the sculpted trees cast strange shapes across Ansei¡¯s face, hiding his eyes, but I could feel his gaze upon me notwithstanding. Surrounding the milky mineral pool, my mother-of-pearl tile work shone under the moonlight like lightning, and seemed to ignite me with an electric current that I was sure I couldn¡¯t long withstand.


    ¡°Your work?¡± Ansei said.


    I gave a shy nod.


    ¡°I bathe here in your mother-of-pearl bath often.¡± A small smile touched his lips. ¡°You¡¯ve ruined me for scrubbing over a bucket for the rest of my life.¡±


    I smiled at this. It seemed to me that my ambition to attract the gods had been realized after all, but I had never imagined myself bathing with them, and the thought of it froze the breath in my lungs.


    The pool was small and deep, fed by an underground river. Although not especially warm, it made quite a good home bath.


    I stole a last quick glance at Ansei, who stood silently by. There was wisdom, and not seduction motivating the bath proposal, I thought. What¡¯s more, bathing was a ritual for social cohesion as well as cleanliness, but little more. And yet, Ansei was a man unlike any I had ever seen, and we were alone.


    Had the time come? Would he make his request of me now? If so, I told myself I was prepared to answer him. I ducked behind a juniper, shivered as I dropped my garments, then slipped into the pool, gasping as I submerged my warm skin up to the neck. My gaze searched to the pool¡¯s edge, where Ansei stood.


    But the poolside was vacant.


    I scanned all around. Ansei had disappeared.


    I waited some minutes, scrubbing my knees and hands with a handful of green maple leaves, but Ansei never reappeared.


    I checked myself against the disappointment that gripped my stomach. Was Ansei an immortal? Would he make an illicit request of me? I trembled with the cold realization that he wouldn¡¯t. After all, it was against his character. His every action had always been protective¡ªyes, towards me, but he had reserved an uneasy distance for himself and something made me uncertain this protection was for my sake alone.


    Floating on my back, I peered into the night sky. The iridescent glow of the abalone shells lent the bath a dream-like quality. I almost thought I could have been dreaming. And recently, my dreams had been so vivid.


    I closed my eyes against the real possibility of my own madness, blinked, and flinched. One shaku from my face, stretched between two low hanging branches of the nearby maple, spread the silken threads of an enormous spider¡¯s web. In the center crouched a spider, identical to the one I had saved from Cook several weeks before. He seemed to watch me with the same intensity reserved for a flailing moth.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that,¡± I said, speaking aloud. ¡°I saved your life¡­or that of a family member. You owe me a debt of gratitude.¡± I paddled slowly backwards toward the pool¡¯s edge. The spider¡¯s eight eyes seemed to follow me. As I peered back, a mysterious voice flooded my mind with breathtaking force.


    So you did. And I will never forget it.

 Death Route

    In my youth, I wished for freedom so mightily I thought I would willingly scratch the flesh off of my bones to get it. I would endure any degree of temporary torture for a promise of liberty granted in the earlier half of my life. So I imagined.


    My thoughts were rash. I had never even tested my upper threshold of pain tolerance. How could I know what I would endure?


    But sometimes, even rash wishes, disguised as some gruesome prospect we would never consent to in our right minds, fall at our feet. These hideous prospects have enough power to, in time, deliver our heart¡¯s wish. The difficulty is holding faithful to the wish while enduring its torturous delivery.


    Illness came to our town. The mountains provided a natural barrier to the spread of disease. However, upon reaching us, disease often devastated the population, wiping out great numbers. This illness, however, was more mysterious, and more selective in its death route.


    It found Madame Ozawa¡¯s house early. One elderly weaver succumbed while threading her loom. She simply collapsed to the floor. She drew her last breath only two feverish hours after laying her upon a futon to rest. Her family carried her corpse away that evening, while all in the household busied themselves furiously with the task of cleansing.


    We burned her loom, replaced the tatami, and disposed of all the dead weaver¡¯s inventory of silk. Cook went about hunched and chanting Buddhist prayers as she rubbed her bead charm. Kame fashioned fabric masks for Madame and Satomi, herself and Cook. Ansei tended the bonfire in the garden while Tatsuo prayed over incense. Then everyone left for their homes and the private onsen baths in the mountains. Madame and Satomi stayed away for several days, leaving her household of servants behind.


    Having cleaned or burned everything reasonable, the servants watched and waited for the next to succumb. With Madame gone, Tatsuo took charge of the household, but with the weavers staying away, all work ceased, except perhaps, Ansei¡¯s laboring hands in the garden.


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    I felt oddly liberated, thoroughly well, and unafraid of the illness. I wove as I pleased, and rather enjoyed the comparable solitude. Emboldened by the weavers¡¯ absence, and with only Kame and Cook to worry about, I threw open the mill¡¯s doors by night and burned oil in my lamp.


    Ansei appeared on the veranda and silently watched me at work. I gestured for him to join me. He knelt down beside me and cast an admiring glance at the piece of embroidery I was finishing. I had woven two cranes, male and female, entwining in an embrace.


    I glanced askance at Ansei.


    ¡°Well? How does it compare to my mother¡¯s work?¡±


    ¡°It is beautiful, but your mother¡¯s work was different. Yours is evocative. Deeply felt. Her work was more intricate, both structured and fragile.¡±


    I nodded to my loom and asked, ¡°Have you ever used one?¡±


    ¡°Not like this, but I have tried making fabric before.¡±


    ¡°Let me show you,¡± I said, taking his hands in mine. He yielded reluctantly as I guided him to the shuttle.


    We worked together silently, hands and shoulders lightly touching, our movements, even our breath synchronizing in a wordless rhythm until the morning was upon us.


    At dawn, he stood and stretched his long limbs, leapt over the veranda, and retreated to his garden until the following night.


    After midnight, he appeared again on the veranda. As I worked, he whispered the poetry of his daily observations in the garden, detail by detail, from the tenderness of the mother bird with her nestlings to the reflected iridescence of the dragonflies¡¯ wings. Beyond us, the cicadas thrummed their urgent song and my own heart raced to its rhythm in breathless synchrony.


    The verbal images seemed to travel up my threads and jump lifelike into the weave of my fabric. My work had never appeared lovelier. Of all the hours of silken happiness I had known until that time, the nights with Ansei at my loom side were at once the most sublime, and least satisfying I had ever known. And when the sky began to change and Ansei stood, stretched and turned to leave, I caught his arm and held it.


    He took my hands, but frowned.


    ¡°Please.¡± I mouthed this word only.


    He squared his frame above me, expression full of warning. When he met my glance, I saw his eyes twitch in eagerness to escape. Then I gasped in pain.


    A sharp sting withered my grip and at once I withdrew my fingers.


    I looked up again to find a vacuum where Ansei had once stood. A thin wisp of a silken thread fell across the floor.

 Natures Accommodations

    I closed the house and worked by lantern light, wondering constantly when or even if I would ever see Ansei again. He might wander away from the mill freely like so many already had.


    On the tenth night, a single door slid narrowly open with the barest scrape against its tracks, but I heard it, and started as though it had shaken the house. Ansei entered, carrying a small homemade lantern. In the dim light, he watched me embroider an obi sash, which gradually revealed the forms of two hummingbirds sipping the nectar of a wild blossom.


    ¡°They¡¯re lovers.¡± Ansei finally said. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind as you stitch them?¡±


    I stifled a sigh.


    ¡°I suppose I am jealous of their happiness.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. Their nectar is over-sweet and thin. We couldn¡¯t survive on it.¡±


    At this, I stiffened, hurt by the indifference his comment seemed to imply. But as I turned away to hide my face, Ansei caught me by the shoulders.


    ¡°I cannot free you from Madame Ozawa,¡± he whispered.


    I pulled out of his hold.


    ¡°I am not your obligation. I know.¡±


    ¡°Furi, I can¡¯t free you, but you can free yourself. You can do that and more.¡±


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    I stared up at him sharply.


    ¡°What do you mean? I have no name¡ªno rank. Madame can¡ª¡±


    ¡°Madame can do nothing to you! She has no power over you!¡±


    His hands returned to my shoulders, trembling. His eyes dilated. The vibration of his gentle whisper trilled in my ears.


    ¡°No one can keep you. Nature is as accommodating as it is confining. It will bring us together in good time. Patience, but don¡¯t be afraid of your strength.¡±


    * * *


    While I rested sleeplessly atop my bed, the sound of Ansei¡¯s whisper lingered in my ears. He had spoken of union; I assumed this meant love. I was eager to believe it. Self-flattery is the simplest form of self-deception, and I yielded to it without resistance.


    Deceiving myself about Ansei¡¯s love hadn¡¯t changed my low estimation of myself, unfortunately. I had learned to quantify myself by the initial asking price named by the woman to whom my mother had abandoned me, and self-flattery was not the same as self-respect. It was only a cheap polish easily applied to any surface.


    I didn¡¯t deceive myself on every point, however. One sense, I perceived with acute certainty and could not deny it, however strange it seemed to me. As clearly as I knew my own force to create, I also realized: I terrified Ansei.


    He had alluded to a personal strength I knew nothing about. And he had charged me to use it. This when it seemed only to make him afraid. Use it to what end? I wondered.


    Evidence of his fear was subtle, but in his nearness, I could see it: the quickening of his pulse; the dilation of his eyes; the guarded way he touched my skin; his sometimes urgent need to leave my presence. A lover¡¯s nearness would not do that. A predator¡¯s would. And no matter how I tried, I couldn¡¯t understand why he would suppress real terror to come so near me.


    Somehow, I still clung to the idea of his love, however unlikely. Under that blissful illusion, I wanted to share Ansei¡¯s unshakeable certainty of what would be, but self-flattery wouldn¡¯t help me there. Brilliantly intuitive though he was, he seemed so out of step with the powers that dictated our lives.

 Subterfuge

    Madame returned, and with her, all of the surviving weavers. It seemed the mysterious illness had passed by us. Feeling upheld by fate, the weavers returned to their petty grievances.


    Perhaps their jealousy reignited upon seeing the work I had produced in their absence. Madame, almost, could not restrain her delight, and these pieces soon disappeared from the house. I was sorry, especially, to see the hummingbirds go. It was my single best reminder of Ansei¡¯s pledge.


    I could bear Madame¡¯s return while I believed Ansei loved me. I could be patient, and so I avoided the garden, and I kept the mill¡¯s doors closed while I worked through the night.


    But that could not go on forever. And Cook found excuses to send me out.


    ¡°It¡¯s too heavy for me to carry. You¡¯re young¡ªyou heft this bucket of compost out to the garden.¡±


    ¡°That is Kame¡¯s job,¡± I said, trying to excuse myself.


    ¡°Kame is busy and the bucket is pungent in my kitchen. Take it!¡±


    I would have to take the bucket, but I didn¡¯t fear such a short task too greatly. It would be done so quickly. I could hurry away and return to my loom in a matter of seconds.


    I didn¡¯t know, however, that Cook had captured a rare and venomous scorpion, and secretly released it into my robe while she helped me lift the heavy bucket. I carried it as far as the pond before I felt the sting of the bite inside my right thigh.


    I dropped the bucket. The ground rocked beneath me. I staggered and fell. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the insect dash away in a mad scatter of legs. I opened my robe to examine the wound on my upper thigh, and found an angry red welt. I made an effort to walk, but fell to the ground short of the plum tree.


    Soon, Ansei appeared and knelt beside me.


    ¡°You¡¯re hurt. What was it?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure,¡± I lied. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter. They¡¯ll be watching,¡± I said, struggling back to my feet.


    Ansei pushed me, gently, yet firmly back to the ground. Holding my gaze, he asked again.


    ¡°What was it?¡±


    Averting my eyes, I folded my robe away, exposing my wounded thigh.


    ¡°Scorpion.¡±


    Eyes widening, he removed the belt from his robe, tied it around my thigh above the bite, and cinched it hard. Then he removed a knife from his pocket and cut an X over the wound until red blood oozed. He pressed his mouth to the wound and began to suck the poison with a shucking sound as the air moved between his teeth.


    I winced an objection, but he ignored me and continued until he had removed all the poison.


    I can guess how Ansei¡¯s falling upon me looked to Madame¡¯s eyes where she followed the weavers¡¯ pointing fingers from the veranda.


    No one ever asked me for my account, though I tried to explain. In the end, I could prove there was a bite. All traces of the mark were gone. And I never suffered an hour of illness. Ansei had removed the poison and I had not so much as swooned to show that the episode was anything but what it appeared to be.


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    I waited for Ansei through the length of the night, but Madame watched too, and he must have realized this. I never saw any hint of him.


    * * *


    In the morning, Madame sent Ansei away like a common thug, escorted by the machi bugyo. I watched him leave, eyes averted, perfectly erect shoulders bare of so much as a bedroll. I never caught a parting glance through the blur of my own tears.


    Madame had accused Ansei of sexual assault and he was sentenced to labor on a large farm within the prosperous domain of a titled daimyo called Nobu, and a samurai by training with a reputation of cruelty. Many criminals passed sentences within his domain.


    Me, Madame beat, more harshly than ever. Then she banished me from the house, saying it was unfair to allow a woman like myself to share Cook and Kame¡¯s sleeping quarters.


    I did not know it for certain, but I believe she perceived how much I loved Ansei, and meant to break my heart by closing me inside the space of his recent dwelling. But in so doing, she saved my life.


    * * *


    Days blended with nights. I labored at my loom, blunted and numb emotionally and physically. My stomach was too weak for proper nourishment and I lost flesh. A season passed without my marking the time. And I might have passed another season the same way. Perhaps I would have let go of my sanity, but Ansei had left so much of himself behind him. In time, my curiosity to understand these things pulled me from the mental cave to which I had retreated.


    In the shed, Ansei had cultivated a supply of fermented vegetables in clay vessels. When I ate from these, I knew I would live, whether I wanted to or not. Some of the vessels contained mysterious herbs, many medicinal. I experimented with them, and they surprised, even shocked me, with the strength and mental focus they supplied me.


    With newfound strength, I explored the strange notes and records Ansei stored on makeshift shelves in the shed. He had obviously committed much time to their keeping. Some of the books were valuable. He should have taken them, but he chose instead to leave them. I hoped he was thinking of me.


    Within the bound leaves, not a scratch made mention of me. The volume was more of a herbal field guide, and I scrutinized it as best as my limited literacy allowed. In good time, however, I learned.


    Ansei was a much more learned herbalist than he had ever given me to know. His notes recorded experiment upon experiment. It seemed he was seeking an antidote for a kind of toxin, but I couldn¡¯t decipher what, because he used a character I didn¡¯t recognize. The records went on extensively, but although they were too advanced for me, I never lost patience or interest in looking at them. I believed Ansei had left them to me. And it was the last I had of him.


    One thing confused and intrigued me. Apparently, Ansei was a skilled artist in his own right. He had given several pages near the end of one volume to the depiction of a woman¡ªmore beautiful than any I had ever beheld. She was not merely an idea of a woman. Her facial characteristics were too detailed for a fanciful sketch. This was someone Ansei knew, and judging from the emotion captured in her mouth¡ªsomeone Ansei knew well. Strangely, across from her picture was a sketch of a large orb spider.


    * * *


    My exterior wounds began to heal quickly with the aid of Ansei¡¯s salve. My skin seemed to grow in health and luster. In fact, these herbs and foods might explain why Ansei, himself, appeared so strong and full of health.


    It cut against Tatsuo¡¯s theory of Ansei¡¯s immortality, but then, herbs could say only so much. They couldn¡¯t explain his knowledge. Slaves were not literate¡ªnot like this. And how had he learned experimentation?


    Although my physical health increased, the edges of my emotional wounds splayed wide and ragged. I had ignored my grief, covered it over, and there it remained. I knew I should spend more time in the garden, and yet I stayed in the shed, rarely moving beyond its immediate exterior and unaware of anyone¡¯s suffering but my own.


    My own suffering would more than fill a valley, but rain never fell to accommodate the volume of the ground beneath it.

 Bracing

    From a distance, I began to take notice of the gradual work of death within the house. Cook succumbed to the dreaded plague that had once passed over us, her health unraveling rapidly. Ansei¡¯s herbs might have aided her, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to care. Her suffering seemed a natural conclusion to her life¡¯s hatred. How could I bother myself for her when I had not even the emotional strength to mourn for Ansei?


    Roused from sleep during a rare warm night, I went to the edge of the spring. The moon¡¯s reflection glimmered over the surface of the water. I waded in and let the cold water force a gasp from lungs as it chilled my warm flesh. The water swallowed me slowly up to my neck


    Floating on my back as I had done so many weeks earlier, I scanned the shallows for the spider web, but of course, weather had long destroyed it and the spider had moved elsewhere to rebuild. This was the way with spiders. How were they always willing to begin building again knowing full well their work would not last¡ªno matter how laboriously, how painstakingly they had produced it?


    This was resilience.


    I stared at the ruined web and looked inside of myself, wondering if I could even wish for strength of that kind. In the next instant, a heavy cloud burst with rain and thunder and poured down over my head, carrying dead emotions to the surface of my mind. Tears poured from my eyes and mingled with the fresh rain and whatever remained of Ansei¡¯s presence in the pool.


    Having once opened this channel of emotion, a great wall of sensation: thought, memory flooded, almost overpowering me. I paced the garden paths, nervous, tearful. I retreated to sleep for an escape, but vivid dreams haunted my nights. Ansei always. Kind. Cautious. Chillingly restrained.


    The momentum of this flood of memories forced me back to activity¡ªand to the loom.


    * * *


    When I entered the house through the southern genkan, I found the space nearly abandoned. Madame had retreated to her mountain cottage with Satomi, and left Kame to care for Cook.


    Physically, I was as well as I had ever been, and perhaps much better, due to the fermented stores I had lived upon in Ansei¡¯s garden shed.


    I observed something like dismay, even suspicion, in Kame¡¯s weary eyes when she first took notice of me, glowing with health.


    ¡°How is it you seem so well, Furi, while all around you are withering?¡± she murmured.


    Kame needed rest. Perhaps she was suffering already from the early stages of the disease. ¡°I can see you are not well,¡± I answered her. ¡°Let me look after Cook tonight.¡±


    She slitted her eyes. ¡°Cook wouldn¡¯t allow it.¡±


    ¡°Is she well enough to even notice who is tending her?¡±


    ¡°She is poorly, but I think she would know you, and believe herself in hell already.¡±


    ¡°Take an hour¡¯s rest,¡± I said. ¡°If you still insist on nursing Cook, then I will let you. What can I do to her more than the disease has already done?¡±


    Kame took no further persuading.


    True. I had little wish to relieve Cook¡¯s suffering. I could have watched her die quite coolly, a week or two before that time. But I didn¡¯t volunteer to nurse Cook because I was indifferent to the injuries she had dealt me. I nursed her because I could feel. After weeks of numbness, sensation had returned. And I yearned for the wholeness Ansei had shown me.


    In the end, Cook and I both recoiled from each other.


    At last, I wouldn¡¯t force her to receive my help. When I sat by her bedside and offered her Ansei¡¯s tincture for blood borne illness, she shrank from my touch, her heavy-lidded gaze flitting around the room with fever and mistrust.


    ¡°Cook, this medicine will not harm you. Possibly it will heal you. Will you try it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the air rasped across her dry vocal chords. ¡°I won¡¯t take anything you give to me.¡±


    I raised a cool cloth to her brow.


    ¡°Cook. If I were trying to poison you, don¡¯t you think I could manage it less directly?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me! Leave me alone to die in peace!¡±


    I left her. If Cook preferred to die rather than let me nurse her, I was full willing to let her.


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    Tatsuo, in contrast, clung to me. ¡°Quickly,¡± he rasped. ¡°Give it to me.¡±


    I poured several drops of the liquid into a cup of tea, and lifted his head from his pillow.


    ¡°Swallow slowly,¡± I cautioned, but he took the cup in both hands and swallowed it one gulp. I took a serving too, when I began to feel fatigue creeping up on me while I nursed Kame and Tatsuo.


    Cook died within two days, unaided by the peace she had plead for. She filled the house with the harried cries of a wounded animal.


    When she passed, I washed and prepared her for burial. I knew of no kin to notify. A hireling dug a grave in a mountain cemetery. That done, I started a fire in the garden and burned her bedding. But further preparations seemed unnecessary, and I had to return to nursing Tatsuo and Kame.


    Kame refused the tincture as had Cook, but after many days, in a feverish stupor, she begged me for anything that would relieve her. I gave her the remedy then, but by morning, when she awakened, she was still in pain.


    ¡°You poisoned me! You beastly creature! You¡¯ve killed me!¡±


    By evening, she was dead.


    Her death confused me, at first, because Tatsuo was improving rapidly. He was still quite weak, but his mental clarity had returned, and was well enough to become concerned about the final rites of the dead.


    I had not cared much for any of that. I had taken the trouble to alert the machi bugyo of Cook¡¯s death, so she might be taken away and buried. But Tatsuo was devoted to the old traditions¡ªthe lore of obake spirits. He wished to prepare Kame¡¯s body to help her pass safely to the spirit realm.


    I wouldn¡¯t interfere, but watched from a respectful distance while he poured water over her mouth and then proceeded to bathe her corpse in spring water, attentive to her comfort, even in death. We had no priest to pray, so Tatsuo performed the rite himself, even bothering to offer a small talisman to the gods. Actually, the talisman had belonged to Cook, but I was glad Tatsuo was putting it to practical use.


    Within days, Tatsuo grew strong enough to help finish the task of cleaning and disinfecting the household. We built another fire, and took several days washing the floors and walls with rice vinegar and warm water.


    After another week, Tatsuo felt it was safe to send for Madame, but we never heard a reply. A second and third week passed and Tatsuo wrote to Madame again. After one month, a message returned to us, but it was not from Madame. It came for Tatsuo, and was from his kindred.


    His cousin had become ill in a small village south of the town. He and his family begged for any help Tatsuo might offer.


    The old man packed his few belongings that very afternoon.


    ¡°Can you not spare any quantity of the antidote you gave to me?¡±


    I gave him every drop of what remained of the bottle and considered myself well rid of it. News of suffering and death within the village had spread to our corner. The tincture and its healing power weighed heavily upon me.


    No doctor would trust it, coming from me. And although I believed it a cure, only Tatsuo had been willing to take it¡ªand this because he knew Ansei, not me. Better that Tatsuo should take the tincture and save what life he could with it.


    Rumors of uprising followed the rash of illness, and with the rumors, the thunderous march of shogunate foot soldiers traveled through our city, muffling the desperate cries of mourning and loss and calling citizens to remembrance of what other reigning powers might take life away, and how much less kindly.


    * * *


    Even as the property¡¯s lone occupant, I preferred to sleep in the garden shed. I slept there, barely aware of the weather¡¯s change and the rise of the chilly, penetrating wind against its walls.


    I retreated into sleep like I never had in all my life, including my youth. Something happened to me. The shed became a thick cocoon. Day and night blended into one continuous expanse of dreams¡ªfilmy dreams of the beautiful woman from Ansei¡¯s sketchbook. When I lifted my gaze to her, she spoke to me, and demanded I weave for her. I couldn¡¯t refuse.


    When I awakened, I returned to my loom and began to weave a manner of fabric I had never seen, thin and gauze-like. The silken threads interlaced like a vapor, and as soon as I finished one piece, the woman came to receive it.


    In these creative trances, my body seemed to never tire. In my new fervor of creative energy, I lost all sense, all inhibition, heedlessly draping myself all around in the gauzy fibers.


    I had never dared to wear my own work before, and risked my life to wear it then, but nothing seemed to matter to me¡ªnothing but the urgency of creation and the demands of the woman, who I felt sure to be an immortal, perhaps somehow related to Ansei. And that relation goaded me more to urgency of service. What if he had sent her to me? How could I fail to obey her?


    I had the vaguest notion of time¡¯s passage and I didn¡¯t know where it would have ended, and what I would have produced, had my creative rites not been cut short.


    Late one night, two soldiers entered the mill, perhaps on orders to spoil the property for supplies. Silk is difficult to penetrate and when it can be gotten, is useful under a military uniform. Ranking samurai prized it highly.


    On hot nights, I slept in the garden, and morning might have come and went without my ever knowing of their entry, but one of the soldiers nearly stumbled over my temporary bed under the plum tree.


    I awakened to a grim shadow looming above me. The moon was new and the night dark, but having found me, he couldn¡¯t have failed to see the silk I wore. He called out to his companion, ¡°Come see what I found in the garden.¡±


    His arms were filled with the last of the silks I had woven in Madame Ozawa¡¯s closet, and he cast the m heavily upon the grass, then lunged at me.


    He would have fallen upon me, but I sprung out of his reach with a reflexive leap that surprised even me. I ran. Branches lashed my sides as I raced through the garden, past the cultivated conifers to the boundary of the garden¡¯s long untended edges. There, I stopped, my lungs rising and falling as I considered the green mass of a decade¡¯s untended growth. Then I plunged inside the brush, throwing myself through thickets that dug and cut and tore my skin and silken robe.


    I could only evade. The soldiers stood between me and any route of escape. I dodged one way and ducked another. To my mind, in its state of clouded awareness, my path was hung all around with vines and shrouds yielding, protecting, and hiding my movement.


    I heard a curse and a single cry of pain, then all seemed to darken, like the memory of a dream. My urgency faded, my breathing slowed, but the trance continued into oblivion.

 Waking

    By the time I awakened, a thin film of dirt dusted my skin all over. I drew up my hand to shade my eyes from the sun¡¯s direct rays. I shuddered, all at once, remembering the soldier who had chased me. My gaze darted about.


    The garden spread around me, a ruin of trampled bushes and shrubbery. Silk hung from low boughs of the trees in tatters. Stone pieces of a lantern littered the gravel path. A carpet of once green moss had rusted into an unnatural black.


    I knelt and touched the moss. Dry. I bent my nose near and inhaled.The stains made a path through to the back of the garden, and I followed, my pulse quickening as I progressed through a maze of now ruined raw silk, hanging about like gorgeous, though plainly destroyed burial shrouds. I gasped when I recognized the place where the black stain stopped. A mound of earth stood disturbed at the very spot where, not four months prior, I had hidden my own silken weavings.


    I stood above the spot, knowing some grotesque thing was buried beneath the soil along with the silk I had hidden there myself.


    My heartbeat rose to my throat. Sweat dampened my brow and palms. I couldn¡¯t tear up that soil again. And yet I couldn¡¯t leave it either. I had to know what was there.


    It took all of my strength to dig up the ungodly secret beneath my feet. All my strength, and a night of digging, but I finally unearthed the corpses. They could not have been very long dead, but they were well beyond my limited power of recognition. I vomited twice, and then covered the grotesque forms back over.


    I had been alone on that night when the soldiers invaded Madame¡¯s gates. Try as I might to rationalize it, I could not escape the probability that it had been me, and no one else, who had killed, then brutalized these men and buried their corpses deep within what, to me, was the most secret, and therefore precious, place in Madame¡¯s garden.


    I had never before confronted myself a killer. And yet I knew the defensive potential had always been there: my uncommon physical strength, acute senses, and unnatural quickness. Before my attackers, I had never defended myself from abuse, nor had I the right to, but now I wondered what would have happened if I had. Would there have been more deaths?


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    I had always believed my greatest power was constructive, creative, life giving¡ªnot destroying. But I could not unsee the maimed corpses in the ground. I could not be blind to this killing, however strangely accomplished.


    There was no grief for the death of my attackers. I had killed them to defend myself, but these were conscripted men, and they would be counted. They would be missed! Someone or ones would search for them. They might yet be found. I would be tried an enemy to the Okugawa Shogunate.


    A new thought dawned, even as I struggled with these frightening realizations. The truth of my nature explained at least one mystery: why Ansei had held me at such a distance and with such fear. Of course. He was afraid I would harm him, too.


    In my confusion, dark thoughts visited night and day. I lost many hours, possibly days at a time to abandoned consciousness.


    Whenever I awakened, evidence of violence awaited nearby. In one instance, I found someone, or I, had torn apart the tatami floor and much of a shoji wall. Victims, real or imagined, haunted me, all suffering deaths by poisoning.


    I began to question my innocence in Cook and Kame¡¯s passing. I didn¡¯t know for certain, and it wouldn¡¯t have surprised me if I had lifted my hand against them in a dream state. Sometimes I fell into dreams by mid-afternoon and slept through the night until the following afternoon. Some nights I didn¡¯t sleep at all.


    I fattened. I didn¡¯t know on what food, but I found it somewhere, and I couldn¡¯t avoid confronting the mystery when once, upon awakening, I discovered a strange goblet. It was very fine, but cracked as though it had been dropped upon the stone walk.


    Stranger yet, was the stain of its drained contents, thick and blood red. And perhaps it was blood. I didn¡¯t taste it twice. But I couldn¡¯t be sure I hadn¡¯t done so once. I had little notion where it had come from, but etched on the base of the goblet was a single character, which, if I read it correctly, meant ¡°spider.¡±


    I hid within the garden walls, never setting foot into the town. No news of the disease¡¯s progress reached me. No army or lone soldier ever passed within the walls again. I knew nothing of Madame¡¯s whereabouts or even if she had survived. It seemed so perverse. I was free of my long-time oppressor, only to discover an intangible, darker, and far more powerful captor whose identity I didn¡¯t know.

 Rebeginning

    Time passed. I retreated so far into sleep, death might have taken me without a cry. But in a lucid moment, I plucked an over-ripe persimmon, clinging to the tree. I tasted it and savored the subtle sweetness, and felt its wholesome strength. But it was finished too quickly, and it had been the only fruit not yet fallen and spoiled.


    Once having eaten this, I remembered the food still preserved within Ansei¡¯s shed. His stores had sustained me through difficulty before. They might do the same for me now.


    I ate these and they seemed to do me immediate good, increasing my strength and lucidity. I needed warmer clothing, and went through my old trunk for something proper to wear. I washed at the well as best I could. As I washed, I caught my reflection in a shard of mirror and shuddered at the image of a ghost woman I scarcely recognized.


    In my trunk, I found a rough-spun woolen robe and put it on, discarding the silken fibers I had once thought so important. I ate once more, and was about to lie down again to rest when the shuffle of geta on the veranda startled my attention. It was not the stealthy sound of trespassers. This sounded different¡ªneither careful nor suspicious. I recognized the voice that followed.


    The visitor was Madame Sato, much thinner than I had ever seen her, but still very much alive and apparently well. She gasped when she saw me.


    ¡°Then there is life within. I heard the old man say there was. But you are weak. Are you yet ill?¡±


    I had not spoken aloud for so long, my vocal-chords wouldn¡¯t respond on first command. I finally rasped a brief answer and she nodded, turned and left me.


    Madame Sato¡¯s appearance was perhaps the least likely of any I might have expected. She was a frequent purchaser of Madame Ozawa¡¯s silks, but the Sato name was noble in our region. She had a large family, and her arrival within the plague-ravaged village, and by herself, seemed as strange as her abrupt disappearance.


    I did not expect to see her again, but she returned later in the evening with a fish broth to feed to me. This was a luxury I had not tasted in many, many months, and my whole body trembled with energy in response to the sustenance.


    When I finished it, she spoke.


    ¡°You are weak, but with proper care, you will soon be well, which is quite a feat of strength. Many heartier people than you have succumbed to this plague.¡±


    ¡°I have no news of Madame Ozawa.¡± I assumed this was her reason for calling.


    Madame Sato nodded. ¡°Nor has anyone else, and I do not expect her back. Over half the town has perished.¡±


    I blinked in surprise. ¡°So many?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and we cannot be certain it is past us altogether. So many young children are gone and there is much destruction and loss of property. It will be many years before we can rebuild, and many survivors are going elsewhere to begin anew¡ªthe young and strong.¡±


    ¡°Will you go?¡±


    ¡°I am not young,¡± she whispered. ¡°And I am all that is left of my entire household.¡±


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    Madame Sato had had a husband, three grown sons, a young daughter, besides a household of servants. If she had lost so much, then her own survival was as miraculous as her future was grim.


    I was too weak to offer her solace, and so I nodded, and returned my head to my futon.


    ¡°I will nurse you back to strength,¡± Madame Sato said. ¡°And then you will come to serve me in my house. You are yet a servant, and cannot expect to change that, but you will find me a kinder mistress than Madame Ozawa. I will provide you with a loom and in time, we will prosper together.¡±


    I raised my head to object, for until today, I had not considered seriously my own survival.


    Madame Sato silenced me gently. ¡°You will live, like it or not. It is the duty of a survivor ofcalamity to take her gift and live it out fully. Will you think about my offer?¡±


    I blinked my ascent, and she rose stiffly from her seiza kneel and shuffled out of the house.


    Madame Sato returned the following morning with food and clean clothing. She helped me to wash. She was still quite weak herself, but her survival alone proved her resources of health. Each day brought me closer and closer to recovery. I slept well without any hint of the trances that had frequently overwhelmed me.


    Slowly, my health returned, but my confidence was shaken. By now I no longer feared the discovery of the soldiers I had buried inside the garden. Too many lives had been lost and too much time had passed, but dark thoughts and visions of the strange woman of Ansei¡¯s sketching, troubled my mind constantly. What I wanted most was a quiet place of refuge.


    One morning, after a brief walk through the garden, Madame Sato led me back to Madame Ozawa¡¯s parlor. I had not visited this room since my last beating. Shame and physical punishment were my most frequent association with the room, and I had to resist the impulse to recoil.


    It was not a good place for Madame Sato to reveal her plans, but she didn¡¯t know this, and her excitement flowed.


    ¡°Look at this. And this,¡± she said pulling silks of my former weaving from Madame¡¯s private closet. ¡°You made them?¡±


    I blinked and lowered my eyes.


    ¡°Truly splendid! The name you will make for us!¡±


    A flush of heat overcame me and I fought back to retain my composure.


    ¡°I am not like Madame Ozawa to torment and to hide a genius. You must be known! You shall be celebrated for your skill. You, my dear, shall dress the Empress herself!¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    I screamed aloud with such force Madame Sato froze.


    ¡°I cannot be known. I will not¡ªenter into your service that way. There was a time I would have welcomed recognition for my work, but that time is well past. Please! I want only a safe place to create in solitude.¡±


    ¡°If you wish it,¡± Madame Sato said.


    ¡°Away from the village. I must have my own place where I can work in private. And you must never ask me to cultivate fame or following. You must promise!¡±


    Madame Sato shifted and cleared her throat. ¡°I do not like your terms, but if you insist upon them, then I will make the arrangements. I promise I will not force you or your name into the light. But your silk, I must promote, or I cannot bring you in.¡±


    I agreed to this, and so the plan evolved. She would lease a farmhouse north of the village, and there, construct a large gate around the house. I would live there by myself, and she would come only periodically to retrieve my silk.


    Madame Sato would manage all the expenses and provide me with all the raw silk I wanted. She also agreed to give me a tenth of all the raw silk she provided. This concession sent a thrill through my chest that surprised me. I did not know how well my creative self had survived my ordeal. But there it was, still eager to create¡ªand still better, to possess a portion of my own work.


    Madame would keep my name and whereabouts secret from her merchants. I would never need to leave the walls of the house. I need not fear. I would be safe¡ªand others safe from me, and I could live and create freely. It was more than I had dreamed was possible.


    We would execute the plan within the month. Madame Sato was determined, and she would not delay.


    I had, at last, found a quiet refuge away from Madame Ozawa¡¯s mill and the dreams I had known there. Relief flowed like a spring. I hoped to forget everything, including the brief moments of bliss with Ansei by my loom.


    I still dreamt of him, and was haunted by the probability of his death. I would never see him again, and yet I still longed to hear how or whether he had survived.

 Retreat

    The night was milder than most, and I let myself out to wander through the garden, both for exercise and to say a final goodbye to the place where I had spent the better part of the past eight years. In the morning, I would go with Madame Sato to the country house she had leased for me, and never see Madame Ozawa¡¯s house or grounds again.


    I lingered late into the night by the abalone shell mosaic. On impulse, I dropped my robe and waded into the water. My breath hissed through my teeth as the frigid water lapped my navel, but I dropped deeper into the spring. I wanted to feel this alone¡ªthe cold enveloping me, blunting sensation, and eclipsing memories. When numbness overwhelmed me, I withdrew and pulled my woolen robe around me without a shiver. Then I froze¡ªparalyzed by what I saw, or imagined I saw.


    Ansei stood by the garden wall, silent and still.


    There was a time not long before, when I would have run to him, but at that moment, uncertainty bound me motionless behind the conifer tree.


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    In a short space of time, everything had changed. I had altered. Watched people die. Had killed myself. My mind had yielded to a new and powerful influence I could neither understand, nor predict.


    I wanted to speak to him and for one moment, I imagined the force of my desire alone could project us both far away to safety. But I couldn¡¯t move, couldn¡¯t unhinge my jaw to speak a voluntary word. And when I reached within and found strength, I discovered this strength was motivated by fear.


    I ran like I hadn¡¯t since childhood, straight out of the garden gate, down a public street, and up an abandoned mountain road. My feet bare of protection, pounding the cold earth and numbing to senselessness.


    My lungs heaved for breath, but not for rest. Nervous energy propelled me upward, and I couldn¡¯t think¡ªcouldn¡¯t even see through the blur of wind and tears, nor hear through the rumination clattering between my ears.


    Several shaku from town, I collapsed over an abandoned grave, marked with a half-buried stone stele. There I retreated into the recesses of my frenzied mind, mingling with the spirits beneath me for the duration of the night.


    By noon the following day, I was lucid again, filthy and ragged, but I could walk. By early afternoon, I had returned again to Madame¡¯s garden, where Madame Sato had waited for me.

 Dreams

    Madame Sato¡¯s promised farmhouse was a rustic, drafty affair with a grass roof and an infestation of praying mantis. I was well satisfied with it.


    The surrounding wall was sturdy and high, closed by a heavy steel lock, impossible to force. Madame had kept her promise, and I believed that wall would protect both me, and others from me. I was prepared to stay there for a very long time, and the rest of my life if necessary.


    Madame Sato also provided me with reel upon reel of raw silk. It filled the largest room in the house, and I began work at once.


    Looking back, it was a mistake to do so, but with a room filled with silk, I didn¡¯t know how to work gradually. I wove through the night and the succeeding day. I slept in short stretches, as had been my former habit.


    I was surprised with my work. It wasn¡¯t the silk of sunshine and flora I had worked under Ansei¡¯s protection. The shadows of my past had combined to produce a new quality in my weaving. The work yielded emotion of a type I had never produced before. So visceral was the effect, I withheld much of it from Madame Sato.


    When I did show a piece to her, she viewed it silently. I couldn¡¯t tell what she thought of it, but she took it all away without complaint.


    Then she resupplied my thread¡ªthis time with a fortune in raw silk. I worked quickly and steadily. The product would not dress brides, perhaps, but it was filled with emotion and my execution was perfect. At last, I was resolved. I would show Madame everything.


    But alas, I showed Madame Sato much more than silk.


    * * *


    On the eve of Madame¡¯s scheduled arrival, I descended into dreams. I had no memory of having done it, but I awakened to a ruin of creation. The silk was strewn about me, sliced to brilliant ribbons. I had destroyed it. All of it.


    Fear gripped the pit of my stomach. While in a deep dream-like trance, I had ruined a fortune. Madame would soon discover my madness, and once knowing the truth, she would be well justified in making an accusation.


    I would be tried. The evidence was abundant and a judge would certainly be sympathetic to a noble woman. At last, I would be executed.


    Madame¡¯s knock resounded like the crash of judgment I anticipated, and I ran to hide, but couldn¡¯t prevent her entry. She had a key, and at last she used it.


    Madame¡¯s shocked gasp for air hissed through the hall as she entered and viewed the silk strewn in ruined heaps up to her knees. I believe she examined every piece before she began her search for me. The minutes lengthened to hours.


    At last, she found me where I crouched, within the futon closet, fists clenched and jaw trembling.


    ¡°I¡¯m mad, Madame. Please kill me.¡±


    Madame Sato was not young, but she was yet strong. She grabbed me hard by the wrists and pulled me from the closet.


    ¡°Get out of there!¡±


    I collapsed at her feet and sobbed.


    She stood silently above me for a seemingly interminable interval. Finally, she spoke. ¡°Don¡¯t you have a drop of tea anywhere? I cannot think without tea.¡±


    Madame brewed a pot in the kitchen while I lay, still tearful and confused under a heap of silken threads. At last, she emerged from the kitchen with a steaming pot, and served herself and me a cup. She took tea in silence for ten minutes. Then she asked, ¡°Have you a comb?¡±


    ¡°A comb?¡±


    She combed my hair, and composed my robe. When I was neat and seated in polite seiza, she finally spoke to me.


    ¡°I think we must re-evaluate our strategy.¡±


    ¡°Madame, I¡ª¡±


    She made an impatient gesture with one hand. ¡°Anyone can see what you have done here. Destruction is the obverse of a creative mind. You have great creativity, but you must find your center again, or you will ruin me.¡±


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    I couldn¡¯t believe my ears.


    ¡°The loss here is quite extensive. I will not supply you with so much temptation forthwith. Take a week and rest. Try to recuperate your strength. Work with something besides silk for a while. I can send you something. Busy yourself with that. Take time in your garden. When you feel quite well, then I will supply more raw silk.¡± She paused. ¡°How does that sound?¡±


    I managed a groveling expression of gratitude.


    ¡°I cannot get my money back by punishing you. And it is obvious you did not destroy it purposefully. I need you to be well so that I can recoup my losses. In the meantime, I will take some pieces of what you have done and see if they might be salvaged somehow. Goodbye, Furi.¡±


    * * *


    I requested seeds from Madame, and started them in small pots. And in the early spring, I planted the garden, which was then uncultivated, outside of two lonely plum trees. I pruned the plum trees and planted an additional persimmon. Finally, I began turning over a piece of ground for a vegetable garden.


    Life sprung up hopeful in every corner. Green shoots and lavender blossoms opened bravely, trusting me in spite of everything. And I meant them well and tended them faithfully. Seated on the ground, measuring their growth, the seedlings stood in for priests, and I confessed to them.


    I was as sane as I ever was. No voices, no ghosts. Only my heart of ash and the tiny shoots, and perhaps some listener somewhere. Someone always bears witness to confessionals.


    In my way, I reached out to Ansei. The growth was a bridge, and I planted my thoughts and wishes into the earth as though the roots might spring out and travel the great distance from me to him.


    Madame returned¡ªnot completely empty handed. Instead of silk, she brought a koto, of all things.


    ¡°Madame, I do not play.¡±


    ¡°No one else is playing it. It belonged to my daughter, Fuyuko.¡±


    ¡°You and your daughter are noble. Peasants never play it.¡±


    ¡°Only because they have no leisure for learning such things. Perhaps you do not have the leisure, either, but you are quick¡ªif you have an ear anything like your eye.¡±


    She knelt, threw back her head, uncoiled her hair and let it spill like a stream of water down to the small of her back. The loose strands fell forward, concealing her eyes as she bent over the instrument. Nothing, however, could conceal her emotions as her fingers played nimbly across the strings. Emotion opened up nakedly as the song built toward climax. I held my breath and nearly gasped to hear the pain vibrating from those dead strings.


    This was Madame¡¯s confessional. When she finished, we were both in tears.


    Over the next several weeks, Madame taught me musical notes and a few simple songs. I made a start toward learning, and Madame seemed satisfied with my application, but we both knew it was not so much what we did as much as what we felt. We were both in mourning. There was no hurry.


    In time, Madame supplied me with more raw silk, without any instructions for urgency, but I was by then hungry for my familiar medium and I wove it quickly into fabric. It felt good to pass the glistening yardage to her and see the light in her eyes as she examined my workmanship.


    ¡°This is very well, Furi, but I do not like you to push yourself too hard. Take your time. Work in the garden, play the koto. Let yourself grieve. The weaving will come.¡±


    Still, Madame supplied me with more silk and, if not comfortable, at least I was able to bear the pain of my memories, and I felt that the work did me good.


    Soon, Madame began to visit the house with greater frequency. To my own surprise, I didn¡¯t mind her intrusions.


    They were always intrusions. Madame was a noblewoman. Everything she did came wrapped in grace and ritual. I couldn¡¯t receive her without serving her a ceremonial tea first.


    Madame took her tea beautifully, perched in the noblest seiza I had ever seen, her eyes low, her fingers and hands moving without excess. As much as she liked to talk, she liked to watch, and me she took in expansively.


    ¡°Perhaps tea seems to you an over bourn tedious rite, does it Furi?¡±


    ¡°No, Madame,¡± I said, though I knew she would detect my evasion.


    ¡°It is an effort to observe the formula, and to do it well, but once having mastered it, your vision can become so acute¡ªas if observing through a magnifying lens. Do you understand me?¡±


    ¡°No, Madame.¡±


    ¡°Grace is not only about prettiness¡ªalthough something pretty is very nice by itself. More important, however, is observation. Awareness. When you discipline your focus just so, you may reach a new state of being. You can connect to your peers at tea in a new way¡ªdetect even minute distraction, deception, focus and loyalty. Call it a sixth sense.¡±


    This kind of focus or awareness was not a complete mystery to me. I often felt I reached the same state when I was at work at the loom. ¡°I think I understand you, Madame.¡±


    ¡°So, you can see how a ceremonial tea might become very important between rivaling warlords,¡± Madame said. ¡°The same applies when you are entertaining guests, or even sitting down with your own sons and daughters. It is well to observe.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    ¡°I think I will stay here tonight, Furi. A rainstorm is brewing.¡±


    ¡°No, indeed! Madame,¡± I coughed on my tea, in a complete loss of composure. ¡°I cannot let you stay here. It is too high a risk!¡±


    Madame paused, indicating I should collect myself.


    ¡°Furi. You do not come to be my age, survive complicated childbirth, overcome deadly plagues of illness and outlive four healthy children by living in fear. If I am to die now, so be it, but I do not think you will harm me.¡±


    ¡°Madame, I beg you to reconsider.¡±


    ¡°No, Furi. I will send my servant home and tell him to come back when the weather clears.¡±


    But Madame, I¡ª¡± I gestured in frustration. ¡°I don¡¯t even know how to cook.¡±


    * * *


    That evening, Madame prepared what she called: a simple meal. It was the most elegant of my life. Soon after, Madame made up her futon in the single bedroom. I didn¡¯t know whether I dared lie down to sleep with Madame present, but sleep would come, invited or not.

 Illusions

    I loved the wall around my little farmhouse, but it was an illusion. I believed it kept me well hidden¡ªthat it obscured me within as well as it obscured the world without. It didn¡¯t.


    Others knew of me.


    Madame kept me well supplied in fuel. And the garden was plentiful with stone lanterns. Every once in a while, when in an extravagant mood, I lit them all. Branches of the plum trees dressed in full blossoms seemed to dance in the lantern¡¯s glow, casting the whole garden in a gorgeous purplish light.


    It didn¡¯t occur to me that anyone else was observing the glow, or took any particular interest in it.


    But there he was, my brother, almost unchanged from our youth, on top of the wall, staring at me in my midnight lantern-lit garden.


    ¡°Yoshi?¡±


    ¡°Is it really you, Furi?¡±


    I jumped to my feet and laughed open mouthed. ¡°Unbelievable! It really is you. How did you find me?¡±


    He hurried forward a step. Then he stopped, bowing a low, formal bow. In closer proximity, I could see how he had grown. He was not the same bashful youth I remembered.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was you,¡± he admitted. ¡°I only suspected. There were rumors about a woman with an extraordinary gift with silk. Supernatural, almost! And I remembered you at the reel. Your speed and dexterity, always so impossibly quick.¡±


    ¡°But how did you find me?¡±


    ¡°Everyone knows there is an eccentric weaver closed within this wall. I thought I might scale the wall and see.¡±


    I gasped. ¡°Everyone knows?¡±


    Yoshi frowned. ¡°But no one identifies you with the weaver¡ªeven my parents.¡± Yoshi smiled bashfully, ¡°I had another motive. I hope you will forgive me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re my brother, in spirit if not in blood,¡± I said, frankly. ¡°And how many times did you save me from going hungry?¡±


    ¡°A few too many for my mother¡¯s credit.¡±


    I stiffened. ¡°How are your honorable parents?¡±


    ¡°In good health, but they are very upset with me, and my life choices.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I am engaged to marry¡ªagainst their wishes.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°It would be hard to satisfy them. I don¡¯t know whether to congratulate you or console you.¡±


    ¡°I feel so close to happiness, but there is a shadow always looming. It¡¯s why I¡¯ve sought you out.¡± He frowned with worry and I wished to help him, but was sure I couldn¡¯t.


    Yoshi cleared his throat. ¡°Eiko is the daughter of a fisherman. She and I are very suited in social class and temperament¡ªbut Mother hoped I would marry someone more¡ªsomeone who would help the family business grow even larger. The girl who my father and she had arranged for me to wed from my youth did not survive.¡±


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    ¡°So many have perished in the plague. And yet your mother forbade your new match?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I stood my ground, and Eiko¡¯s family approved of me. They would welcome me into the family trade, and you know how I always felt about sericulture.¡±


    Yoshi had loathed the silkworms, but to leave his parents was a hard thing. ¡°Your parents have no one else.¡±


    ¡°Yes, exactly. No one to take care of them and no one to keep the butsudan shrine when they die.¡±


    ¡°I would keep it, but I don¡¯t think it would please them,¡± I said.


    ¡°No. It wouldn¡¯t,¡± he agreed. ¡°But you could do something else for me.¡±


    It cost me something to ask it, but I did. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Make Eiko¡¯s wedding robe.¡±


    I could feel my face fall. ¡°Yoshi. You cannot ask me for that.¡±


    ¡°I know you work silk, but I can provide a linen thread. Weave her robe and you will honor her above the whole of our community. If my parents see and hear Eiko praised by our village neighbors, they will soften toward her.¡±


    ¡°Your parents don¡¯t really deserve you, Yoshi.¡±


    ¡°No. I am a rebellious son for choosing my bride against their wishes. This, when I am all they have.¡±


    They might have kept me, but that was well in the past, and I didn¡¯t speak the thought aloud.


    ¡°I would be eternally grateful if you would do this thing for us.¡±


    ¡°Yoshi. You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re asking. Let me provide the thread and let some other artisan weave the cloth.¡±


    Yoshi¡¯s face fell, but he bowed low. ¡°Never mind. I had to try. It was very good to see you, Furi. I wish you health.¡±


    I said goodbye and I let him go. I had no desire to go anywhere near Yoshi¡¯s wedding. My best gift was to stay far, far away from him and his bride.


    ¡°You are not going to let him go like that?¡±


    Now Madame stood at my side, watching Yoshi retreat up the wall.


    ¡°Madame. I¡¯m sorry to have disturbed your sleep.¡±


    ¡°He is the closest thing to a brother you have.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And that is why¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. That is why you will not let him go,¡± Madame said. ¡°Stop! Boy, Stop!¡±


    ¡°Yoshi paused on top of the wall.


    Madame called to him, ¡°I will provide linen thread. Furi will weave the wedding robe! Send your bride to be measured in the morning!¡±


    I frowned at Madame. ¡°Madame, you have no right to interfere.¡±


    ¡°I think I have a right. And I will risk your disapproval on this matter,¡± Madame muttered as she shuffled back up the steps to the house.


    * * *


    Madame stayed at the farmhouse now as often as she stayed in her own home. I was not quite used to her presence, but my episodes of losing consciousness seemed to become less frequent. Whether I liked her frequent company or not, my mind was easier.


    My mind may have been easier, but my temper was not. Madame taxed me constantly, demanding compliance with her aristocratic rites.


    As a servant, I had no need or occasion to practice the complex maze of ritual language and observances, and yet she insisted upon my learning everything. At first, I thought it was a matter of her own vanity, but I gradually learned there was more to Madame than appearances.


    ¡°Madame. Please,¡± I begged. ¡°I¡¯m sure I could finish much more weaving if you would permit me to forgo tea and music lessons.¡±


    But Madame made an imperious gesture and changed the subject. ¡°You never met my daughter, Fuyuko, did you?¡±


    ¡°No, Madame.¡±


    ¡°She was only sixteen last year when she died.¡±


    ¡°I know you were very fond of her. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Let me show you a sketch an artist did of her.¡± Madame shuffled off to retrieve the picture and knelt beside me again. ¡°It is one of few things I have kept of hers. Is she not lovely?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Madame.¡± And she was.


    ¡°Women and children live such retired lives. There are few who remain who even knew her. Even the artist who drew this perished. So I have heard. She left a great crater in my heart, and that wound is almost all that is left of her in this world.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry.¡±


    ¡°Love is agony, Furi.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Madame,¡± I whispered, and tears pricked the lenses of my eyes.


    Madame smiled. ¡°You know, you remind me of her.¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡±


    ¡°Yes. You do. And sometimes it is a dagger to my heart to watch you playing her koto.¡±


    ¡°Then I shall never play it again!¡±


    ¡°No, indeed,¡± Madame shook her head. ¡°You must play, and play often. The secret to happiness in this life is to learn to savor the agony. It is well worth savoring.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever loved anyone, Furi?¡±


    I started at the question, but answered, ¡°I believe I have.¡±


    Madame seemed surprised. ¡°No. I don¡¯t believe it. Another may have once loved you, but if it had been your own heart laid across love¡¯s alter, you could not help but understand me.¡±


    Madame was a puzzle, but I began to miss her when she stayed away.

 Eiko

    As wealthy peasants, the Ishiyama family would have a delicate tightrope to walk in making the preparations for Yoshi¡¯s nuptials. Good fortune demanded a grand statement at an only son¡¯s wedding. It would be the single greatest display of hospitality the family would ever make, and they had money to do it. Important customers must be dignified with gifts, and they must lay out an appropriately lavish banquet. They had friends to remember, and officials to bribe.


    But as peasantry, Father Ishiyama must not go too far, lest he ignite the anger of local samurai, many of whose prosperity was inferior to his. Gold was out of the question. The same was true, of course, of silk¡ªmy single greatest medium of creation. A peasant wedding disarmed my skill, and I despaired of my ability to do anything fine for Yoshi and his bride.


    * * *


    Eiko was a slight girl, with a small smile and polite manners. She was not a classic beauty, but elfish. A pretty waif. From our first meeting, I knew exactly what to do with her.


    I asked Madame to purchase deep gray and pale dove colored thread for the robe. Cobalt blue for embroidering the obi sash. Subdued colors, befitting a humble occasion. There would be no brilliance, as was almost always true of silk, but I knew enough about nature and contrast to compensate for the lack of richness.


    My object was not to make Eiko look wealthy. My aim was to transform her into a spiritual vision¡ªlike a fog rising from a tempestuous winter sea. She was small, and her size would only increase the drama and lend a sense of mystery to her origins. If all went well, her appearance would seem a blessing from Mazu, Goddess of the Sea.


    I knew it was possible. For our people, a veneer of mysticism already glossed any natural phenomenon. Both peasants and gentry readily believed in Nature granting and withdrawing her approval. I knew how to encourage this association. In this way, I truly might change public perception, and hence, Yoshi¡¯s parents¡¯ prejudice toward his bride.


    * * *


    On the wedding morning, Madame dressed Eiko at her family¡¯s home near the sea. Madame dressed informally, cautious against over awing her hosts, but her manner could not be helped. And they were indeed struck with the dignity conferred by this noblewoman dressing their daughter.


    I dressed Mother Ishiyama, the only mother I ever knew. She received me coldly as ever, but she was eager to look as well as she could at Yoshi¡¯s wedding, so she consented to let me tie her obi and see to her cosmetic. These tasks, I performed quietly, as though I were a hired servant. While I worked, I noticed my adoptive mother seemed to take some pleasure in giving me orders in front of her friends.


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    ¡°The mother of the groom looks very well,¡± I proclaimed, smoothing imaginary lines out of the skirt of her kimono.


    ¡°It is hardly worth the trouble,¡± she sighed. ¡°She will bring bad luck with her fish monger¡¯s odor and ill health.¡±


    ¡°She is small, but not unhealthy.¡±


    ¡°She will die before her first child is born,¡± Mother Ishiyama predicted.


    I had bourn Mother Ishiyama¡¯s cruelty toward me without a tremor, but the barbs aimed at Eiko and Yoshi lodged painfully in my heart, and I left the house in tears. How would Eiko bear her mother-in-law¡¯s abuse? How could Yoshi let her? My own help seemed so slight. Would it even matter at all?


    * * *


    I watched from a distance, but even from my remote position on a hill above the observing guests, the wedding procession transported me. Eiko was not regal. Regality required material. And poised in her simple wedding robes, Eiko ascended to the spiritual. A gray sky loomed low, and great billows of mist rolled in from the wine dark and torpid sea, encompassing Eiko all around like a water nymph, and hypnotizing us all.


    She trod as though borne upon a cloud. The subtle drama of her sea-storm wedding robe heightened the effect. No one could escape associating her with Mazu, herself. I didn¡¯t need to hear the guests and their whispers. Eiko was not a mere lovely bride. She was the form of spiritual beauty.


    Father Ishiyama hosted the feast at a large and reputable tavern within the village. The event lengthened through the evening and long into the night. The Ishiyama family could afford to feed their guests well, and did so.


    I stayed only long enough to see Eiko much admired and Yoshi quite saturated with sake and the pleasure of his new domestic comfort. I left with a stomach half full of rice and the smallest sip or two of sake.


    Even after seeing Eiko¡¯s impression upon all present at the wedding, I left the tavern unsatisfied that my involvement would bring no inauspicious consequences to the wedded couple. I couldn¡¯t really celebrate. When everyone was well settled, I would be as happy as the bride herself, but until then, I brooded.


    By the time Madame returned to the farmhouse, I had already slept once and risen to do my garden chores.


    Madame was precisely the right amount of intoxicated to do proper credit to the Ishiyama¡¯s hospitality, and she sat down heavily next to me on the veranda to make her report.


    ¡°You did well.¡±


    ¡°They are well suited for happiness,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes, but take what credit is due.¡±


    ¡°I hardly see what I had to do with it.¡±


    Madame huffed.


    ¡°It was a great triumph! Didn¡¯t you hear the talk?¡±


    ¡°What was the talk?¡±


    ¡°That Eiko was the most elegant bride the village had ever produced. The daimyo himself proclaimed it. ¡±


    ¡°Surely that was flattery.¡±


    ¡°Yes, certainly. But flattery would be hardly necessary for a lesser occasion. Rest assured, the Ishiyama name gained much face tonight. I think they will be kind to Eiko.¡±


    I hoped this was true, but it would turn out to be a mostly unnecessary development. Mother Ishiyama died very early that morning.

 Ishiyama

    ¡°To be sure, Mother Ishiyama¡¯s death was inauspicious. But what does it have to do with you? Did you poison her soup?¡± Madame set down her tea cup.


    ¡°No, Madame.¡±


    ¡°Well, then. Call it an accident. The family will mourn. But even if you insist on taking responsibility, remember Mother Ishiyama¡¯s death was very good for Eiko, whose interests you represented. So, take heart. For the bride, you were a charm.¡±


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    ¡°Madame. I can hardly believe what I am hearing you say.¡±


    ¡°And I would deny every word if you repeated it, but privately, I urge you to look at this event in the correct light. The married couple is well. Mother Ishiyama was aged. She was very happy to see her son so admired. Take confidence that you were able to encourage such a shift in attitude in time for her death. Otherwise, her death really would be unfortunate.¡±


    We spoke no more of it, but I did not forget Mother Ishiyama¡¯s strangely timed death. And neither did Madame.

 The Risk of Possession

    Madame Sato spoke little while taking tea, but tea¡¯s end always followed with some new revelation.


    ¡°Furi, I have taught you a little bit of reigi and a few skills of the noble classes, but I have not taught you one very valuable lesson.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Madame?¡±


    ¡°You weave silk for the noble classes. Do you ever stop to consider the cost of their privilege?¡±


    I admitted I did not.


    ¡°When I was young and when our domain was more prosperous, my husband received many guests. Even the occasional foreign sea captain of a merchant trading ship was not at all unusual.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°On one occasion, a Vineland Captain dined with my husband and told him an intriguing story. It was, of course, a western legend of a king who had an envious and flattering subject who praised him for his fortune and rank. Do you think the highest king enjoys his wealth so very much?¡±


    ¡°I had always supposed he did.¡±


    Madame covered a slight smile with one hand.


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    ¡°And well you might. But this king invited his subject to try the comfort of his own throne. And his subject readily agreed. Only the king had taken a katana blade and suspended it by a single strand from a horse¡¯s tail above the throne. Seeing this, his subject begged to be unseated.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Sometimes even the highest-ranking hold their position with as little ease as this subject did. Can you imagine?¡±


    ¡°Yes, when you put it that way.¡±


    ¡°Risk is the price of possessing anything worth having.¡±


    I remembered Cook¡¯s schemes against Ansei and me, and added, ¡°Some are threatened even by the possibility of your having something valuable.¡±


    ¡°I maintain the only happy people¡ªpeasant or noble¡ªare those who learn to accept risk.¡±


    ¡°But how can anyone be happy with a katana dangling overhead?¡±


    ¡°Life is full of danger, Furi. And sitting with fear is a valuable study. Believe me. Your powers of execution should bear you up well under even the mightiest katana.¡±


    * * *


    And so, I began to meditate upon this danger, or fear¡ªits many names, colors and forms. Then I began a rigorous practice of ritual, and a gracious hospitality reserved for only the highest ranking in society.


    I studied ritual and grace, almost to excess. As a servant, I should never have learned any of it, but Madame Sato was unlike any noble I had ever known before.


    The rites did something to me. They measured my breathing, regulated my heartbeat, and steadied my movement. I found greater awareness and equanimity, and the dread I had been carrying so heavily fell away like a burden. I began to understand how Madame Sato affected the appearance of such nobility, even after losing everything.


    I wondered why Madame had shared this particular lesson with me. But she had her reasons and she kept them to herself.

 Domestic Happiness

    Yoshi perched for a long minute atop the garden wall, catching his breath. ¡°Your wall seems to have grown taller,¡± he said to Madame, when he dropped over the top.


    ¡°The gate is no taller. You are fatter, and I am glad to see you so happy in marriage,¡± Madame said from her seat upon the veranda.


    He smiled broadly.


    ¡°I am happy indeed. Please come and honor us with a visit soon. We are parents of twin boys!¡±


    At Madame¡¯s encouragement, I stayed with Yoshi and Eiko a month. Eiko had no mother on either side and needed help. Madame herself could not stay away, and continued her regular inquiries after the family long past my visit.


    Eiko had come through the birth strong and the infants were well and comparably fat, for twins. I had little experience with children, but Madame soon fell into a grandmotherly affection for the creatures. It rather awed me to see how such a strict, formal woman could alter in the presence of new life. But there was still much I didn¡¯t know about Madame Sato.


    She bathed with the babies, slept with them and yielded them to their mother only when they demanded to nurse. Something urgent and spiritual seemed to possess her at these moments, and I marveled at this transformation¡ªthis brave, even heroic support of new life.


    I had no memory of my mother. Had rarely even seen any mother nurse a child. And for the first time in my life, I watched the demand and the stress those infants imposed upon Eiko with some surprise and almost horror. And yet, father and mother¡¯s mild submission to the burdens of two helpless tyrants seemed near endless.


    Having lived much longer and experienced much more since that time, I can say with some confidence, there is nothing in this world more mundane than human birth. And yet I feel it equally true that there is no earthly thing more miraculous¡ªmaybe one thing: that both parents should survive the ordeal with the child. That is an extraordinary miracle. And yet most people managed it. I held that truth with some bitterness, even after practicing carrying it lightly for the better part of my life.


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    Yoshi and Eiko were happy. And in spite of the abundance of that emotion, I was sure I would never share with them, I was unthreatened by their happiness. I was happy for them.


    My last evening with them, I busied myself, preparing dinner, and then with tidying the kitchen. Finally, I seated myself, slightly apart from the family on the tatami around the kotatsu. I watched as long as I could, and listened while Yoshi sang in his low bass to wife and children.


    At length, I went quietly out of the room to ventilate the feelings I could not restrain. The night was dark. And a narrow scythe of a moon seemed to stretch across the sky, penetrate my chest and hook around my heart.


    Where was my mother? Did she have any thought for me now? What had she endured to give me life, and for no better purpose than for more suffering? Had she truly loved my father? Did their love have so little to do with me that I should be so destitute of the same?


    The scythe moon seemed to tug my heart until it penetrated and the blood ran out and flowed into tears. Gradually, a unique sensation of warmth grew and enveloped me. The moment was as close as I had ever felt my mother, and though subtle, its influence lingered, and steadied me.


    When I let myself inside again, Yoshi had fallen asleep above his bowl of wine, but he roused when he heard me re-enter.


    ¡°You are going tomorrow?¡± he asked.


    I nodded.


    ¡°It is well you have found Madame Sato. She will help you find your people.¡±


    I reached for the lamp to extinguish the flame.


    ¡°My people are long dead now.¡±


    Yoshi started. ¡°How do you know? Unless you heard it from one of your own?¡±


    I blew the flame and the room collapsed into darkness, well to screen my emotions still so near the surface.


    ¡°The message did not come from one of my people.¡±


    ¡°Who could he know except you could call him one of your people?¡±


    I could not answer this. What did I really know of my identity? Ansei had never revealed even my family name. And what did I know of Ansei¡¯s origins, really?


    ¡°Your Madame is shrewd. She will help you find the people who matter now.¡±


    ¡°Good night, Yoshi,¡± I said, tracing my fingers along the bare wall to the door of the bedroom.


    ¡°Remember us when you have found them,¡± came the quiet reply.


    Well had he asked for my remembrance; he was not asking for his own sake. I learned shortly thereafter that Yoshi had been conscripted to mandatory military service.

 Weaving Dream

    I produced more silk than at any previous time of my life, and Madame began to spend long stretches of time away from the house. I didn¡¯t know where she went or why she became such an infrequent guest. She didn¡¯t speak to me of the reason. She made no demand for the volume of silk I had begun to produce, but the supply of materials continued, and in her absence, I had little else to do but weave.


    I had not the same pleasure I had once enjoyed in my work. The best of my creation seemed to take something from my heart, and I often ached over it. I no longer thought of this pain as something to avoid, however. For the first time, I began to understand what Madame had meant when she described to me agony worth savoring.


    While I grieved, a longing to hear news of Ansei grew into a constant melancholy. In some ways, I was more withdrawn and vulnerable than I had ever been. I had never let myself truly feel the pain of losing him. In Madame Ozawa¡¯s mill, I habitually buried pain, along with other strong emotions, of a necessity. I was, after all, not quite human to Madame Ozawa. She had demanded my production as if I were one of her looms, and would not support me in grief or joy, but all that changed.


    Madame Sato indulged my grief as well as other emotions. Until, at last, she didn¡¯t.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been crying, Furi.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Madame.¡±


    ¡°I think you have not stopped since I was last here.¡±


    ¡°I guess not.¡±


    She paused, then pivoted.


    ¡°Would you like to come with me on a journey?¡±


    ¡°No, Madame.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you where. Doesn¡¯t it matter?¡±


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t think I would like to take any journey anywhere, ever.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± Madame said, and seemed to change the subject. ¡°You know, Furi. I think you have forgotten your mother.¡±


    ¡°How can I forget who I never knew?¡±


    ¡°You have one mother who can never be taken from you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    Madame pointed to the full moon rising above the horizon.


    I started, remembering the warmth of feeling I had experienced under the moon while staying with Yoshi and Eiko.


    ¡°The moon is a mother to all womankind. She is our model of dignity and compassion.¡±


    ¡°What can the moon do for a woman¡¯s heart?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you know?¡±


    ¡°No, Madame.¡±


    ¡°To know your mother is to know your own worth.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s put it this way: can you imagine a presence with greater dignity?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Perhaps not.¡±


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    ¡°There is no finer lineage.¡±


    ¡°But if all womankind belong to the moon. Surely not all women are equal?¡±


    ¡°Only because so many have forgotten who they are.¡±


    I bent my head aside. ¡°Hm.¡±


    Madame nodded slightly.


    ¡°To where are you journeying?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only a little distance from the town. But I have been invited to a samurai daughter¡¯s salon. She has summoned several fashionable people who trade in silk.¡±


    ¡°What samurai¡¯s house?¡±


    ¡°He is called Nobu.¡±


    The breath froze in my chest. It was some moments before I had composed myself enough to ask, ¡°When shall we depart?¡±


    * * *


    I had not believed I would see Ansei again in life and couldn¡¯t sit still with the thought of visiting the great house where he served. The thought alone terrified me. And yet, I would go. I dismissed the fear of harm I might do there, telling myself I had mastered my madness with discipline and ritual, and had more confidence in what good I might do.


    In several days¡¯ time, we might stand in the same room. I would confront him face to face. I didn¡¯t know how I would breathe, much less remember the reigi to which Madame so constantly demanded my attention. But given the opportunity to only see him once more, I would be happier than I thought I might ever be again. I must be guarded, however. It wouldn¡¯t do to let Madame know about Ansei, nor could I afford to lose the discipline I had only lately acquired.


    Perhaps Ansei had changed toward me after my having run away from him in the Ozawa garden. I had turned away then, and since then, had changed so much, myself. It seemed improbable that he hadn¡¯t also altered. But that didn¡¯t matter. I needed only to see him, and, surely, as Madame¡¯s personal servant, I would have occasion to mingle with other servants within the house.


    * * *


    ¡°But Madame!¡± I objected to the silk kimono Madame held up for me. ¡°It¡¯s not lawful for me to wear silk.¡±


    ¡°You must wear a silk to be my companion.¡±


    ¡°I have no rank in noble society. I cannot be your companion.¡±


    ¡°No one knows you are not Junko Yamada, my personal companion who perished in the plague with everyone else.¡±


    ¡°But someone will discover the truth.¡±


    ¡°Why would they?¡±


    ¡°Because I know nothing about her. And have only the barest understanding of the rites.¡±


    ¡°You do very well. And I will tell you all you need to know about Yamada. You must be a noble to attend the salon. I do not need a servant. I need my friend, which you are.¡±


    ¡°But you want me to lie.¡±


    ¡°It is the only way you should ever be admitted as an equal in this society.¡±


    ¡°I have no wish to be admitted in this society.¡±


    ¡°Furi, do not be difficult. I can only bring you as a companion. You are not really my servant. You don¡¯t even look like a servant. No one would believe it. Now come. You will look very well in this green brocade.¡±


    But I was difficult. And I had resolved against going.


    Madame breathed a sigh. ¡°What is the difficulty? You do not wish to be my companion?¡±


    ¡°I do not wish to impersonate nobility.¡±


    ¡°Well, if it helps, you already are.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I had to register this lease in someone¡¯s name, and I did it in the name of my friend, Yamada Junko. I had to have a name you have no family name. Besides, Junko has no further use for hers.¡±


    ¡°Why did you not use your own name?¡±


    ¡°Quite frankly, you need a name. Yamada¡¯s is a perfectly good name and rank. I thought you might have use for it someday.¡±


    ¡°But it isn¡¯t true.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t badger me about what is true. You do not know who you are. You have been living a lie since birth. Anyway, rank is merely a label and some matters are more important than labels. You are a whole life, and as worthy of this name as anyone.¡±


    ¡°You are telling me people already believe I am this Yamada?¡±


    Madame shrugged. ¡°Furi, you had no family name. What was I supposed to do? You are a whole person and you require a whole name.¡±


    ¡°I could be recognized as your servant.¡±


    ¡°But that will not really do. You are not rightfully my servant. You were technically Madame Ozawa¡¯s, and we do not know where she is.¡±


    Thus, I became Yamada Junko, Madame¡¯s companion and the fraudulent dead daughter of a deceased samurai.


    * * *


    I fretted about the rites, about assuming a strange name, about the risk of discovery.


    Madame lifted her face in placid self-assurance. ¡°You are very observant. And I do not think you will call attention to yourself. I will speak for you as much as is needful. You need only take tea as we frequently do, and make proper obeisance to Master Nobu, if he even appears at all. I do not know that he will. I will be always beside you and you need not worry about anything more.¡±


    But, of course, I did worry about something more. It was the center of all I thought of. I was so distracted with memories of Ansei, that I gave no thought to probing Madame¡¯s motives for bringing me out of seclusion.

 Fraud

    We traveled for several days, stopping at respectable roadside inns for rest and baths. At every stop, the rumors of war fell softly from the lips of road-weary travelers passing through. We heard these rumors everywhere, but no one seemed to know, or perhaps they dared not speak of, any rebel clan¡¯s uprising. Shogunate armies stood sentry at every town, but no conflict ever stirred.


    No threat had ever surfaced in more than two decades since Okugawa had defeated the warring clans. Even the so-called Spider Clan and their allies had long since bowed to the superior strength of the Okugawa Ruling House. And in the midst of these rumors, I sensed no real threat from anyone. The tension was all to a different tendency.


    * * *


    I¡¯d no idea how long we were to be away. I guessed it only after arriving at the mountain inn when Madame¡¯s trunks, which she had sent from her residence in town, arrived.


    ¡°Madame,¡± I asked. ¡°Can you really want all of these trunks?¡±


    ¡°You never know. There are many buyers here in town. Now go with my maid and she will perform your cosmetic.¡±


    I knelt while Madame¡¯s maid coiffed my hair and painted my face. It was an ordeal, and when she was finished, I declined even a peek in the glass. I didn¡¯t expect to see myself there, and didn¡¯t wish to become any more self-conscious than I already was, robed head to toe in fine silk. But I remembered Yoshi¡¯s childhood prophesy: Someday, you will dress in the silk you reel. Had he known what he said? How could he have?


    Madame nodded the briefest approval of me before we walked to the street and found a driver to carry us up a winding road to Nobu¡¯s castle. Master Nobu¡¯s domain was among the largest and highest producing domains of the region. As we alighted from our small carriage and gazed up at the grand castle with rice fields terracing the mountainside, I felt grateful, at last, for my opaque cosmetic, a mask behind which I could see so much of what I had wondered about for so long, and I was quite sure Ansei would never recognize me, dressed and painted as I was.


    I followed Madame Sato up the stairs, and through the Anseito toriire gate toward a castle. My breath froze in my chest at the sight of it. This place looked like a famous temple more than a residence.


    The roof, by itself, was enormous, tiled in clay and elaborately hipped and gabled with serpents peering wary-eyed from lofty perches. Broad wooden beams supported deep hanging eaves. It had an otherworldly quality, high atop the mountain and surrounded all around in the lush green of late summer.


    I wanted to stare open mouthed at the castle, but I lowered my gaze. It was easy to feel humble, but impossible to appear inconspicuous, clad as I was in the green brocade that shone with each new bend of the light.


    A servant announced us, and we bowed low before our hosts. Lady Nobu received us, flanked by three daughters, all finely dressed and impeccably groomed. I averted my gaze, but nearly burst with curiosity. I had imagined what they were like so many times¡ªhad even allowed myself to feel jealous of their proximity to the man who I loved.


    They were, by reputation, very beautiful and accomplished women, and I wanted to know how well they answered the multicolored stories about them, but I kept my face so studiously averted, that I didn¡¯t even once look up, until at last Madame introduced me. I nearly stumbled across the silk carpet in shock and confusion when she did.


    ¡°Please meet my only daughter, Sato Fuyuko.¡±


    Heat burned through the powder on my cheeks, and I trained my eyes once again on the floor. What? Oh, what had Madame said?


    She had claimed I was her only daughter¡ªnot her friend, Junko Yamada¡ªher daughter, who had died only one year prior. A girl who would be a mere seventeen years old and an accomplished musician. How could I be that? What was Madame doing?


    Not trusting myself to meet a scrutinizing pair of eyes, I kept mine averted the entire morning. Outwardly, I managed a wooden formality. But inwardly, I fumed at Madame. How dared she do this to me? To make me her young daughter was an outright betrayal of our understanding. It put me off balance and changed my relationship toward everyone. I was no longer the older, spinster friend of Madame Sato. I would suddenly be a peer to Nobu¡¯s daughters. They might expect me to interact with them. They might expect me to play the koto, or know all manner of things a noble¡¯s daughter should know.


    Worse, they would think me a noble girl of marriageable age! A busy body matchmaker woman might make reports of me to other marriageable noblemen. This thought was horrifying to me, and I sat rigid in seiza, fuming at Madame Sato, unable to respond or attend to what was being said. I sat paralyzed for too long, and my silence was interpreted as disgust. A servant swept up my tea and replaced it with another cup of a different brew.


    Madame stole a quick glance at me, eyes cool, but I read what they said: compose yourself and drink tea as I taught you to.


    It took everything I had to bring that porcelain cup to my lips. How I tried to train my eyes and ears to a proper focus! How I steeled myself for questioning. How I urged my hands not to tremble, my head not to throb, my heartbeat not to race.


    Others were in attendance. I hardly caught the names or faces. A wealthy merchant from the capital. An artisan weaver of excellent reputation. Another three noble women of some significant fashion. A neighboring samurai¡¯s famous geisha. A Nagaishi Clan samurai¡ªone of The Ruling House¡¯s most formidable enemies prior to unification. (I thought his presence strange, but Madame Sato showed little interest in him.) All were attending a silk festival later that week, and all seemed to know each other by reputation, if not more personally.


    I hardly knew what was discussed. Pleasantries between company. The weather. Talk of expected marriages and anticipated artistic events. Someone expressed interest in hearing one of the Nobu daughters play the koto. There was talk of rising artists in relation to silk embroidery and weaving. Here, someone mentioned Madame.


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    ¡°We look forward to seeing some samples of this season¡¯s fabric,¡± Lady Nobu said.


    ¡°Yes, of course. I have brought some of my favorite pieces. I will show them tomorrow, if you like.¡±


    Lady Nobu assented with a graceful sweep of one hand. Then she proposed a walk in the garden.


    We followed Lady Nobu out onto a stone walk, which circled the house, connecting it with a garden teahouse. A garden pavilion stood next to a lovely koi pond ornamented all around with stone lanterns, minutely pruned pines and boxwoods and elaborately combed gravel paths. I had never seen a garden more lovely.


    When we entered, I could no longer wonder in what capacity Ansei served Master Nobu. Of course, he was here. His presence was everywhere. I saw it in the bonsai, in the cultivation of the herb garden, even in the way he had trimmed the conifer bushes.


    ¡°You obviously care more for the garden than the house interior,¡± came a young female voice at my side.


    I started and returned my eyes to my feet. The eldest Nobu daughter had sidled up beside me. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. There¡¯s no crime in appreciating a garden. Ours are quite fine, I think.¡±


    ¡°I have hardly ever seen anything so lovely.¡±


    ¡°We have an excellent gardener.¡±


    ¡°You must have. And you would be rightly proud of his work.¡±


    ¡°Would you like to go have a look at the outer tea house? It has a charming view of the pond and a cherry orchard on its far side.¡±


    I agreed at once.


    ¡°Fuyuko, I am Kiyo,¡± she reminded me, as she gestured to a left veering footpath. ¡°Your kimono is exquisite. I have not seen anything quite like it. Do you know the name of the weaver?¡±


    I offered a vague shrug. ¡°I cannot say. And it is not so fine as what you are wearing.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed slightly, and I could tell she didn¡¯t think me sincere. ¡°Oh, indeed my robe is good enough, but don¡¯t suppose you and your mother will be able to keep your silk prot¨¦g¨¦s to yourselves for long. Many people are wondering.¡±


    I shivered, knowing I had every intention of keeping my work a secret, but I saw, too, what Madame¡¯s separate determination had done already to my resolve. What more would I yet reveal? What would Madame reveal in my behalf?


    We walked on and came to the teahouse, planted around with peonies. Kiyo glanced behind her and whispered, ¡°Don¡¯t be uncomfortable, but we are being watched.¡±


    I followed her gaze. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°It is my governess. She follows me everywhere I go, even within the house, but especially within the garden.¡±


    ¡°Are you so little trusted?¡± I bit my tongue as soon as I said it.


    Kiyo sniffed. ¡°I¡¯m so highly rated.¡±


    ¡°Of course, you are,¡± I strove to recover. ¡°Mad¡ªMother leaves me for days, even weeks, at a stretch. But we have so few servants.¡±


    ¡°Servants are not to be trusted,¡± Kiyo said, and her voice was heavy with implied meaning.


    ¡°I hope your gardener is above reproach. You said your governess followed you everywhere within the garden¡ªand it is so beautiful.¡±


    ¡°No indeed, our gardener is not. The machi bugyo himself escorted him here to labor on the farm under suspicion of violent crime against a woman.¡± She watched my face for a trace of impact. I must have gratified her because she flashed a satisfied smile.


    I shook my head in feigned shock. ¡°Was anything proven?¡±


    ¡°No. And obviously my father doesn¡¯t believe it, or he would never permit the man¡¯s service so close to the house. But he¡¯s a great favorite among the servants, and even among my mother¡¯s friends. They all covet our garden,¡± she said with a sly glance at me.


    She reached for a small bell set upon a table and rang it once. ¡°You¡¯ll understand in a moment.¡±


    I held my breath as Ansei entered the teahouse through a side door and bowed low to Kiyo. He did not seem to know me and realizing this, I breathed my first breath.


    ¡°My honored guest Sato Fuyuko has much praise for your work in the garden,¡± Kiyo said.


    ¡°I am a poor servant,¡± Ansei said, eyes strictly averted. When he still betrayed no sign of recognition, I took my second breath.


    ¡°The cut flowers are dry. Take a vase and water them.¡±


    I could see Kiyo liked to issue orders, perhaps to all her servants, but certainly to Ansei. As he worked, she watched him with an intensity of scrutiny that made my spine go rigid.


    ¡°When you are finished with the flowers, pour tea. Quickly.¡±


    We watched him perform every instruction with the attention and silence of a housemaid. His rough hands now soft on delicate porcelain. His height now bent low in servitude.


    I was suddenly aware of Kiyo¡¯s gaze on me. ¡°Oh! But you don¡¯t care for tea,¡± she said, hand flying to her small mouth. ¡°Find my guest something less offensive at once.¡±


    ¡°No indeed, I like it,¡± I insisted.


    But Kiyo would not allow me to drink it. ¡°Find something foreign, maybe. My guest has sophisticated taste.¡±


    Ansei hastened to produce a chrysanthemum tea to satisfy Kiyo¡¯s command. I did not know how he bore this, but he had always had this unique quality of vulnerable strength.


    Finally, Kiyo dismissed him with a wave of her hand.


    ¡°So, you see, he may garden tolerably, but he makes a miserable cup of tea. You cannot have everything, can you?¡±


    ¡°I am sure we would be well pleased to have him¡ªif you are unsatisfied. Our gardens need so much attention,¡± I hastened to add, ¡°Mother is always saying so.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think Father would part with the rogue.¡± She cast me another sly smile. ¡°But I may be able to arrange a private liaison, if you like.¡±


    I almost dropped my cup of tea. Had I been so transparent? ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± I stammered.


    ¡°Be assured, no one need know.¡± Her eyes widened in a show of sincerity.


    I detected something false in her assurances, but even with my suspicion, I was tempted and couldn¡¯t decline immediately.


    ¡°He¡¯s only a servant. But he has the look of someone highborn, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°I do not know.¡±


    ¡°Some people suppose they know, and spread all kinds of rumors about him: saying he is not a nameless slave at all but the son of Nagaishi clan leader, but I don¡¯t believe a word of it.¡±


    I tried to affect only mild interest, though I¡¯m sure I failed. ¡°What more do they say about him?¡±


    ¡°I see you, like everyone, love a scandal and will never let a good one die!¡±


    I swallowed. ¡°Perhaps it isn¡¯t really a scandal at all.¡±


    ¡°Of course, it is, and I will not make you beg to hear it.¡± Kiyo lowered her voice conspiratorially. ¡°They say, twenty years ago, the second son of the clan¡¯s leader ran away with a foreign woman of famed beauty. He spent everything he had on her and then died mysteriously before the birth of their child. The family disowned him, of course, but the child seems to appear and disappear and some people believe there is something not quite right about him.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®not quite right¡¯?¡±


    Kiyo yawned. ¡°That¡¯s where I quit listening. Who would believe stories about mysticism and that kind of nonsense?¡±


    I let go of a nervous laugh. ¡°Mysticism? No one in her right mind.¡±


    ¡°People are so stupid,¡± Kiyo giggled. ¡°But rumors do make you wonder, don¡¯t they? You are wondering now. I can see it in your face!¡±


    The heat rose in my cheeks and I hated myself for it.


    ¡°You are still such a child. Aren¡¯t you but seventeen? Your kimono makes you look so much more mature than you are, but no doubt you need to learn some wisdom of the world. Think about what I said.¡±


    We returned to the greater house and joined the company soon after, but I couldn¡¯t regain even the appearance of composure.


    Somehow, in the process of becoming Madame Sato¡¯s only daughter, Kiyo had come to regard me as a rival¡ªa rival she was already bent upon baiting. And worse, she had found my weakness with the insight of a true mystic.

 Veiled Intentions

    Madame Sato went before me to the bottom of the winding footpath, her tiny geta grinding softly upon the gravel walk. Even after she stopped at the street, I couldn¡¯t look her in the eye. I didn¡¯t want to lose composure publicly, or indeed anywhere. Having left the farmhouse, I couldn¡¯t be sure of our privacy. Our fraud was dangerous enough to make me wary of speaking aloud, even considering my eagerness to confront Madame.


    A stiff wind whistled down the mountain, disheveling our careful coiffure. It tugged at our elaborate robes and we struggled to keep neat as we hastened inside the protection of the old inn. With the slam of the shoji doors, I could no longer withhold a hoarse, whispered accusation, ¡°What have you done?¡±


    For a brief moment, Madame¡¯s supreme dignity failed. Her disheveled head hung in shame and she whispered, ¡°Pity me, Furi, Pity me. I am a childless mother who only wanted to see her babies grow up and prosper.¡±


    ¡°I shall pity you, and myself also, when we are discovered. I cannot carry off this deception!¡±


    ¡°Oh, Furi. You are always underestimating your own talents. You can carry this off without a tremor if you wish to.¡±


    ¡°And worse, I can no longer trust you, which will be an even greater liability to us!¡±


    ¡°Why not trust me? As my daughter, I can give you everything! Every cent of our earnings. What use do I have for a fortune?¡±


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    ¡°You have forced me into a position I despise! And I don¡¯t want your money!¡±


    ¡°What is so wrong with this position? It is powerful. It is full of life and potential!¡±


    ¡°It is full of vulnerability! Already Lady Nobu¡¯s eldest is laying traps for me!¡±


    This silenced Madame, but only for a moment. ¡°I have taught you how to avoid these traps. You are quick. You can evade her with strength and dignity.¡±


    Now it was my turn to be silent, because I had weaknesses Madame Sato knew nothing of.


    * * *


    Confronting Madame did little good. After all, she had made her move publicly, and it couldn¡¯t be taken back. And to be honest, after seeing Ansei, I couldn¡¯t think of running. My only thought was to find a way to speak to him without eroding my fraudulent identity.


    Yet, I wondered how I had failed to consider Madame¡¯s motives from the beginning. Too late, I had begun to see some greater strategy at play.


    She revealed a fraction of that interest, speaking in whispers as we soaked together in the mineral bath. ¡°No one knows yet the true weaver is you, but everyone is wondering who is behind our fabrics. They expect me to reveal the truth this visit. And so I will.¡±


    I nodded, not of agreement, but of understanding. I would cooperate with Madame¡¯s plan, but only to a point.


    ¡°Of course, there will be doubt. I expect someone to try and test you. Others will request, nay¡ªdemand¡ªto buy your work, or to make their own orders with new requirements. But we can ask for any price. And we will.¡±


    I knew Madame¡¯s asking price would differ from mine, but I was determined mine should be the price honored, and was prepared to out maneuver Madame on this front.


    I would buy Ansei¡¯s freedom, however my reputation might suffer in the bargain. Madame would not succeed in effecting her greater scheme if I could help it.


    ¡°You will keep me informed of Kiyo¡¯s attempts to trap you, please,¡± Madame said, though I knew it was not a request.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I agreed. But like Madame had done previously, I lied.

 Obi

    Madame brought the familiar obi from her trunk and shook it out before me.


    I gasped, ¡°It was you who bought the hummingbirds!¡±


    ¡°I paid Madame Ozawa dearly for them to be sure,¡± Madame said, though a smug smile tugged at the corners of her normally discreet little mouth. ¡°You will wear this today¡ªfor your triumph!¡±


    ¡°No Madame!¡± I said. ¡°I will wear the obi, but not today.¡±


    ¡°Today is the day. I have been saving it for this particular moment.¡±


    ¡°No, Madame. There will be another triumph,¡± I said, resisting her. It was too early. Too early for Ansei to see it and recognize me. I could not risk that now.


    In the end, Madame relented with my promise to wear a kimono that rivaled this one in its beauty. This time, she performed the kitsuke herself.


    And unlike the day prior, I paused to view my reflection in the glass. I stared at my image, no longer wondering how Kiyo had taken me for a rival. I had seen ladies wither beside silk¡¯s grandeur. Had seen slight women diminished by the elaborate folds of the heavy obi. Some women, however noble, could not master the dignity of silk. They seemed to pale beside its luster.


    I did not.


    I knew every thread of my own weaving. Marked every catch of the light on its yardage. Wrapped in its folds, I belonged to it as much as it to me. And it announced and validated my presence with every rustle of movement. Robed in silk¡¯s armor, and perhaps only for that instant, I didn¡¯t feel myself a fraud. I could stand next to any noble. Take tea with any minister. Lift my pale face even to heaven.


    I was determined not to appear self-conscious as heads swiveled around me where I walked on the street and up the path to Nobu¡¯s residence. It wasn¡¯t easy. Even Madame¡ªso controlled in her emotions, betrayed a hint of self-satisfaction as Nobu received us with the deepest dignity, within his rooms, and before his guests.


    Following us, three hired servants bore Madame¡¯s chests, packed tight with silk. Nobility and prominent silk merchants crowded the room, eager to see the chests¡¯ contents. But Madame did nothing without taking her tea, and this she did with great ceremony. With every tilt of her head, every flick of her wrist, I knew Madame measured the emotional tension within that room, she measured and heightened that tension with a charisma and charm I had never seen before.


    I bent my awareness to the same focus, and I was almost surprised how simple it was to read the collective pulse. I detected much awe, ample lust, and keen jealousy.


    I knew Madame expected to leverage all of this to the furthest extent. But she could not have known my own intentions. Even so, I felt certain she was trying to guess my mind as well. It would be possible, even likely, she would see through me too, if Ansei were present. He wasn¡¯t visible, fortunately, but I knew him well enough to suspect he was not far away.


    After tea, Madame produced a silver key and commanded a servant to unlock the largest chest. Madame herself withdrew and presented the chest¡¯s contents.


    Cries of ecstasy issued unreserved from all around. I couldn¡¯t pretend humility. I, better than anyone, knew feelings of delight upon completing a weave.


    Hearing, at last, the praise of others was an unexpected experience for me. It had been over a year since I had been able to take uncomplicated pleasure in anything. But I was not wooden to this approval. It brought something like pleasure to my heart and I am sure I didn¡¯t disguise it.


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    ¡°Now, Madame Sato, please reveal to us the identity of this brilliant weaver,¡± Lady Nobu begged.


    ¡°I will,¡± Madame said. ¡°But I anticipate some surprise when I do¡ªperhaps there will be more than surprise, but I trust in your civility.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Lady Nobu said.


    ¡°Then may I present to Master and Lady Nobu and their honored guests, my daughter, Sato Fuyuko? She is the weaver of every last thread within these chests, and more.¡±


    Madame had rightly anticipated surprise. And if my sense of awareness was not faulty, hostility. Dared I also note outrage? That said, I sensed an equal exertion to master all these emotions.


    ¡°It is hard to believe,¡± Lady Nobu admitted, ¡°that a girl so young, so unacquainted with the world, could be the source of these sophisticated designs, and the master of such superior technique.¡±


    ¡°She showed an aptitude to fine needlework from a tender age. When she asked for instruction, I did not withhold it because she was young. You may now, perhaps, understand my reluctance to bring her out publicly, and hence, my long silence as to her identity.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know what to say,¡± one of the merchants said. ¡°I agree with Lady Nobu, but if your daughter can produce a sampling of such superior work, what can anyone say? We are most impressed and will celebrate her skill with you.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Lady Nobu echoed. ¡°We have a loom and we can furnish raw silk for an experiment.¡±


    Madame Sato glanced at me. ¡°I will not answer for her, nor pressure her to prove herself to you.¡±


    The irony of Madame¡¯s deference struck me and she almost flinched at the expression I turned on her. Yet, no one but she would have seen it for what it was.


    ¡°Give me one week at a loom,¡± I said. ¡°Place it in the garden tea room with thread, and four lanterns filled with oil. I will take one meal at mid-day and tea in the morning. Have a servant bring this to me on a tray. Otherwise, please understand my need for strict privacy.¡±


    Lady Nobu accepted my conditions, and I closed myself inside the tearoom that very afternoon.


    I did not begin work immediately. One week was more than ample time for me to produce a showpiece. But I hoped for uncommon inspiration, and did not want to commence work too early.


    Also, my mind was preoccupied with the prospect of reaching out to Ansei. I hoped for a chance¡ªany chance¡ªto speak to him without bringing Kiyo into confidence.


    I lit all four lanterns at night in hopes he would come, but drew only moths, and eventually a shrewd spider to the corner of the ceiling. I slept, dreaming always of Ansei, but he never appeared in the flesh.


    On the third day of my apparent indolence, the shoji doors split, and Kiyo popped her prettily coifed head through them.


    ¡°Are you enjoying what our cook puts out for you daily? It must be exhausting lying around all day, not lifting a finger to do anything. I hope you are not wasting away.¡±


    I snapped up and pulled myself into seiza. It was hot in the teahouse and I was wearing only some light cotton underclothing. And so I faced Kiyo, exposed in more than one way, and my head hung, as much in embarrassment, as in deference to my host¡¯s eldest daughter. ¡°I beg your pardon, Kiyo. The meal I receive is very fine. But why are you coming to me now? Haven¡¯t I one full week?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll have your week, I suppose. Though my father thinks it is a monstrous charade you and your mother are playing, but we are all intensely curious about what you expect to gain from it.¡±


    ¡°There is no charade. I¡ªI am preparing to work! And you had promised strict privacy.¡± I should have been more outraged, but I was off balance with her abrupt intrusion, and direct manner of speaking to me.


    ¡°You have as much privacy as anyone has around here. I hope you will not rely upon it too heavily. As I have said, only I can guarantee your anonymity. The whole house can see, of course, that you are opening the doors and burning an obscene quantity of oil through most of the night. How does that figure into your creative process?¡±


    ¡°I cannot explain it, but it is how I work,¡± I said wishing for the dignity of my kimono dress. ¡°You will have to trust me.¡±


    Kiyo laughed in my face. ¡°Of course, of course.¡±


    * * *


    In the end, I was grateful for Kiyo¡¯s intrusion. Rude as she had been, it might have been so much worse, so much had I trusted in Nobu¡¯s faithful compliance with the conditions I had demanded. At least Kiyo had destroyed that pretense. I no longer hoped for a chance meeting with Ansei. I would find a way to free him without this advantage.

 Strategem

    When the moon reached its apex on the fourth night, I went to the loom. It was a risk. I had only a vague outline in my mind. The design was as full of tension as my weaving fingers, and I was uncertain of success. I believed it to be my authentic creative voice speaking, however, and couldn¡¯t have abandoned the idea, even if I had wanted to.


    The following morning, my work was well underway. Under the quiet spell of creation, I was alive to the whir of response energy generated by my progress. I knew the whole house was watching. I felt every beat of anticipation, and even the stiff tension of Madame¡¯s concern.


    I perceived that Madame Sato¡¯s well-controlled veneer of calm had splintered, and I supposed she fretted about what I was doing, and what that would mean.


    After all, she kept inside the house, suffering most of the skepticism about me. Our hosts watched her closely, too, guarding their valuables and whispering scurrilous things behind her back. For Madame Sato, this behavior would be a singular affront. But to her credit, she did not disturb me. She never demanded I alter my vision of creation, or conduct myself as she preferred. In her way, she trusted me.


    My betrayal would come as a blow.


    * * *


    Kiyo, however, came to the tearoom without inhibition. It was her character to consult her own convenience first, and any attempt at restraint on her part was practiced formality, and nowhere near her natural inclination.


    ¡°I must admit, I doubted you, Fuyuko. My parents doubt you still, but I¡¯m watching you work, and I can see by your speed alone that you are a master. I think I will have you weave my entire trousseau. You will, won¡¯t you? Did you not know I am to be married?¡±


    I had not known, but she would talk bidden or unbidden.


    ¡°Oh yes. For such a country place as this, it is quite a conquest, or so they say. Everyone gossips about it. Do you want to know what they say? They say I shall be very rich! You can depend upon my having full credit to pay for your work. But you did not ask whom I am to marry. Don¡¯t you wish to know?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I am curious. May I ask who the honorable person is?¡±


    ¡°His name is Ogata, and he is a minister to the Shogun himself! You do not believe me, but I am no liar.¡±


    ¡°It is a high marriage,¡± I acknowledged, ¡°but I wouldn¡¯t think you would be happy with anything less.¡±


    ¡°You know me better than I gave you credit for. I am not easy to satisfy, but everyone tells me what a grand match it is and how well it will be for me once we are married. There will be so many people who come to see me, and I shall be at the center of a very fine circle of acquaintances, so you really must weave me the finest clothing possible. I must be fit to appear before the Emperor, for it is a high probability, I will!¡±


    ¡°You honor me with your confidence in my ability.¡±


    ¡°If I like what you do, perhaps I will invite you to my house. I will be in a position to do many things for you¡ªyou didn¡¯t think I could do such things, did you? But I will. Please me, and you shall be very happy.¡±


    I nodded and bowed my head to the tatami. For Madame Sato¡¯s daughter to show this kind of obeisance to Kiyo was hardly necessary, but I was not really her daughter, and a display of humility seemed enough, only barely, to satisfy Kiyo¡¯s ideas of what was appropriate.


    * * *


    By week¡¯s end, I had finished my design. The central piece of my work was the embroidered obi, upon which I stitched a husk of a chrysalis, quite ugly, as only a chrysalis is. I did not adapt it. I would not make it pretty, and the image was quite apt, for embroidered work.


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    Above the chrysalis, on a delicate piece of stem, I stitched a butterfly, not brilliant, as a mature butterfly is in the sun, but still wet and not quite folded out. I believed I had captured the newness, even vulnerability, of nature¡¯s transformation. The piece of silk I had woven for the embroidering was not brilliant. It was a pale green color, like a new shoot of bamboo. It heightened the sense of vulnerability evoked by the butterfly. The piece would be perfect, I thought, for a young girl reaching adulthood.


    I was pleased with my work, but not assured of others¡¯ pleasure, and I brought the obi sash and the silk fabric to Madame, slowly, almost reluctantly.


    As usual, she examined it silently, with neither a word of praise, nor complaint, then folded it up again and took it away. It was too late in the evening to display it to our hosts, so I went away to the tearoom to rest. I had not slept for ten minutes in the past three days. Despite my questions and worries about how well it would be received, I slept long and deeply through the night and most of the following morning.


    Madame roused me from sleep, bearing a tray of salt fish and a bowl of country miso soup. ¡°You were right to wait. Today is the day you must wear the hummingbird obi. Come. Eat. We must get you dressed. They are waiting for you.¡±


    I drank my soup and ate almost quickly enough to satisfy Madame, who I had never seen so agitated. Her hands almost trembled as she robed me and tied the elaborate obi behind.


    I made no difficulty for her, for I felt almost the same readiness, to be known, to be recognized, unmasked¡ªbut by only one person.


    I followed behind Madame Sato across the walk through the garden, even raising my gaze up to search around the garden. He was as absent that day as he had been for the past week. If I had not known him and his mysterious ways of appearing and disappearing, I would have wondered at it more. Surely, he was close by, however. Surely, I would speak to him soon.


    * * *


    Our hosts and their prior guests, and also several new faces were assembled within the great house. I followed Madame through the shoji doors with a gentle rustle of silk fabric. A murmur filled the room as I appeared. Madame bid me stand and display my clothing and somehow, I bore it as the crowd of guests approached, crowded, and dared touch the edge of my kimono.


    I wanted to pull away, even to push back, but I kept my eyes down and let them speak the words of disbelief¡ªas though I were not even there! I bore their vulgar attempts at interpretation¡ªas though they had any idea of my intent. As though they knew my heart when I had embroidered the hummingbirds. They did not. They could not know!


    I shouldn¡¯t have given way to anger. After all, my critics accepted what I had done. Even so, I gripped and struggled to control unruly emotions. Madame recognized them, and wisely, begged space. To a more composed audience, she displayed my week¡¯s work.


    Again, they crowded, praised. They pronounced me an artist, a genius, a mystic. I stood apart from them, and wished to run away, for I sensed, too, continued disbelief, and some treachery.


    At last, Madame excused me, and I turned to withdraw, every muscle of my torso tensed to restrain my haste¡ªevery nerve alive to the sensation of Ansei¡¯s nearness.


    As I walked the garden path toward the teahouse, my gaze fixed on the ground, I sensed that Ansei watched from somewhere across the garden. I paused and dared lift my eyes to meet his for only one breath. And in that instant, a force charged through my body to my center, paralyzing my step for several seconds. When I could walk again, eyes averted, I yet sensed him, as well as all the emotions of our past intercourse. Desire. Exquisite restraint, and an undeniable projection of fear.


    Something more welled at the foot of this mountain of raw emotion, bubbling up from the ground and running over with crystalline purity.


    In this liquid emotion, I recognized Ansei¡¯s honor. I could not fully fathom having inspired the feeling from the one I held out as a creature so far beyond me, but I could not deny it.


    * * *


    Madame and I returned together to the old mountain inn. I was exhausted, but the real work, I understood, had only just begun. Lady Nobu had begged Madame Sato to stay and have me weave Kiyo¡¯s wedding clothing. Madame had consented for me, but they had not agreed upon a price, nor could I allow it. I had my own demands.


    The wedding day was already fast approaching. I would have only three months to perform, I didn¡¯t know how much work, but I knew it would be substantial.


    ¡°We must remember this when we negotiate terms,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t like to work under such watchful eyes and upon other people¡¯s timelines. I would rather we returned to the farmhouse.¡±


    Madame hesitated, and I didn¡¯t pursue the point, because as much as I hated to stay, I couldn¡¯t abandon Ansei.


    ¡°Please wait,¡± I said, ¡°before you negotiate a price. I want to finish the work first, and I want to be present at the negotiation.¡±


    ¡°These things are so tedious, my dear. You cannot really want to be present for that event.¡±


    ¡°Why not? You said I would get everything. Suppose I have an interest in deciding how much that is?¡±


    Madame started at my blunt admission of ambition. ¡°If you insist.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    I steeled myself that night as we soaked in the hot mineral water for the months of labor, stratagem, and duplicity that lay ahead.

 The Threads of Fate

    A fortune in silk spools lined one wall of the tearoom where the loom stood waiting for me. I sat down to stare at the spools until I could gain some inspiration. I fell asleep gazing at them.


    I hadn¡¯t slept long before Kiyo was again at the door.


    ¡°Already hard at work, I see.¡± She yawned almost widely behind her closed hand to show how little she thought of me.


    I frowned.


    ¡°I regret that I have no more to show you. I think you would be better pleased with me and my work if you came at the end of the week instead of the beginning.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, indeed. It was so dull when you left the house. I have been waiting for your return only for a change,¡± she said. ¡°I am glad we shall have you for the next little while¡ªat least as long as you will sometimes bother yourself to wake up and talk to me.¡±


    ¡°I will have to get to work soon to finish your trousseau on time.¡±


    ¡°I have seen you work. You can do it,¡± she dismissed my concern with a wave of her hand. ¡°But you are such a lucky creature. I am almost jealous of you¡ªyou will be so rich by the time you leave. And you will have no duties, nor obligations like I shall have as a wife to a high official. I think I¡¯ll find marriage tedious. Sometimes I can¡¯t bear to face it.¡±


    ¡°But you called it a conquest only days ago!¡±


    ¡°And it is, but when I see you so praised and hear such a fuss made of your little projects, I begin to think I¡¯ll hardly be much richer than you. And you will have so little work for all of that freedom.¡±


    I stared at the wall piled high with silk thread.


    ¡°That seems unlikely.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t contradict me. You shall be admired and almost famous. And I will have so many obligations, except of course when my husband is away, which will be often. And then I shall be truly tedious.¡±


    ¡°You have so many friends,¡± I reminded her.


    ¡°To be sure, I have many friends, but they cannot always be visiting.¡± She released a long sigh. ¡°Except for the gardens. There will be gorgeous gardens at my husband¡¯s home. There is nothing else to do. I¡¯ll tell my father to send his gardener to me. You know I must. Then our gardens will exceed anything and everything! And having some company from the tedium will do me no harm, either.¡± She said this and I almost flinched when she winked at me.


    ¡°Will your father send his gardener to you?¡±


    ¡°Of course. My status will be so high, and I will send nice gifts in the bargain. How can he refuse?¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡± I almost stammered the words. ¡°But you cannot expect that to please your husband.¡±


    ¡°My husband would make a present of him if he were his own servant.¡±


    Here again, I sensed that she was baiting me, but I couldn¡¯t help myself.


    ¡°Does his servant status make him so unworthy to be considered a danger?¡±


    Kiyo gasped, ¡°How dare you even suggest it? He¡¯s a gardener.¡± Then she covered a small smile with one hand. ¡°Can you really be in love with him? You absolutely cannot indulge your sentimentality like that. I beg you to master yourself, or someone will expose you. I can see I had better take you in hand or you will soon get into terrible trouble. The world is so wide. People cannot all be trusted.¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡±


    ¡°You are right to affect as much confusion as you do with me, but you shall be eaten alive if you don¡¯t begin to make a study of political stratagem.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is.¡±


    ¡°Listen to me. As you establish your reputation for weaving, you will receive many invitations and much recognition. You will become rich. Men will seek your society. And then what will you do? Have you ever been alone with a man? How will you know how to evaluate a prospect?¡±


    I admitted I didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°Having lost your good father, and your mother being¡ªhow she is¡ªyou know, willing to expose you to all sorts of people for money¡ª¡°


    I had to stifle a gasp at her characterization of Madame Sato, but Kiyo rushed on without noticing.


    ¡°I suppose you will be married to the first dominating suitor to come along and make his case. He will work you like a slave at the loom and take all the money for himself.¡±


    ¡°How is stratagem supposed to help me?¡±


    ¡°Darling. We¡¯re women, and cannot hope to get our way by force. We must resort to more indirect means, but to do so takes practice.¡±


    ¡°How do we do that?¡±


    ¡°Fuyuko, dear. I cannot teach you everything. I can introduce you. Get you started. Then we will see if the bird can fly. Tomorrow my father and many of the house servants will be busy visiting the local farms. I can arrange a trip to town with my mother and Madame Sato, leaving you alone here. You can take all the time you need.¡±


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    I hesitated.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    Kiyo began to offer a few more instructions that I couldn¡¯t bear to hear, and I was sorry I had let the conversation follow to this point.


    ¡°Say no more about this, please,¡± I said, face burning.


    ¡°I meant to help you. Only, I am rather surprised your mother hasn¡¯t had this talk with you herself. But then, she may not be fully aware¡ª¡±


    ¡°Aware of what?¡± I may as well have been blunt. I had already ruined my poise by biting my lip.


    ¡°There are proposals already on their way, if your mother has not received them already. It is possible she has accepted someone in your behalf. You cannot act too soon in that case.¡±


    ¡°I am sure my mother has done nothing of the sort.¡± But Kiyo had startled me by this suggestion. I had no idea whether Madame had entertained anything of the kind. Would she be so bold toward a fictional daughter? I knew at once she would. And it was too late to veil the fear that had, already, so clearly shaken me.


    ¡°Let us arrange it this way. Pluck a peony blossom from the garden, and thread it through the doors when you are ready. If you cannot summon the courage, then, let your mother dictate your life for you.¡± Kiyo rose to her feet.


    ¡°I must go now. And you can return to your napping¡ªI mean, work. What a life it must be!¡± she said, and sighed.


    Then she was gone, and I confronted the implications of what had passed between us. I had not intended to give Kiyo her way¡ªnot when I might negotiate Ansei¡¯s freedom myself, but Kiyo was shrewd, and I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised she had maneuvered to her own advantage.


    Worse was the thought of what Kiyo had only implied, and I shuddered. Did she mean to suggest that liaisons with Ansei were common practice? I would not believe it. Kiyo was subtle, but not imaginative. She thought only of herself and beyond that, her ideas failed. She could not see Ansei for who he was. I didn¡¯t believe she could choose him, even as an indulgence. He was only useful to her as a device to torture me.


    I debated back and forth as I paced the floor, mentally undressing every peony bush in the garden. On one hand, I urged myself to take my time, and not give Kiyo any more material to leverage against me.


    And yet, I was tempted to cut ties with everyone and run away with Ansei now, ahead of any accusations Kiyo might make. I owed nothing to anyone here¡ªnot even, I told myself¡ªto Madame Sato. But my internal debate tended toward nothing but emotional exhaustion, and at last, I slept.


    * * *


    Upon first awakening, I almost believed I had done it myself. Not one, but a fat bouquet of full-blown blossoms, decapitated from their bush, embraced within the handle of the shoji doors.


    At one time, I would have suspected I had acted in perverse subjugation of my own right mind. But in this moment, I knew I hadn¡¯t. Kiyo would deny having done it, but it had been her, and no one else. She would watch me¡ªthen make me a fool and a public spectacle if she could.


    Fine. I would beg Ansei to run away with me. My nobility was a fraud. I had never cared for social approval, and the world may as well know it.


    I found a little satchel and filled it with a few of my belongings. I had so little money. Madame had always provided for me, but this would not matter. Ansei and I were resourceful. I could always work my loom. He could gI busied myself as though activity might by itself make a difference to our flight. I could not sit still and think. What little thinking I did stung me to my bones.


    Robed in silk, hair combed and coiffed, I prepared to confront Ansei¡ªan immortal Ansei. That I should appear to him while pretending aristocracy was irony beyond imagination. I could hardly bear the thought of speaking to him¡ªpretentious in the hummingbird obi he had watched me embroider with my own laboring hands. I trembled with distraction so great I didn¡¯t hear the doors part.


    And when I turned, there he stood, lit by the late afternoon sun¡¯s rays. To me, he always withstood the sun well for beauty.


    He met my gaze only for an instant and then bowed low.


    ¡°Lady¡ª¡±


    I shuddered.


    ¡°Don¡¯t. You know the fraud I have committed in appearing this way¡ªto anyone, but especially to you.¡± I gripped the obi sash tied around my middle and would have torn it violently along its seem, but more quickly still, Ansei seized my hand.


    His breath fell rough against my cheek.


    ¡°There is no fraud. I know you better than you know yourself.¡± His hand relaxed and I shrank to the floor.


    ¡°Can you forgive me?¡±


    He dropped to the floor beside me. ¡°


    What?¡±


    ¡°You were arrested¡ªand for my sake.¡±


    Slowly, he raised my face to meet his.


    ¡°Do you think I am bound?¡±


    I flinched in surprise.


    ¡°You serve Master Nobu.¡±


    ¡°I am only biding my time. He isn¡¯t holding me here.¡±


    The truth of this statement hit me with force. And I knew it was so, but I couldn¡¯t yet understand it.


    ¡°Why are you waiting? When will you leave?¡±


    He averted his eyes, and whispered, ¡°I am waiting your readiness.¡±


    I caught my breath.


    ¡°Then we must go now!¡±


    He shook his head, no.


    ¡°Why not? I am here, and I don¡¯t trust Master Nobu¡¯s daughter not to expose us¡ªnot to cast doubt on my noble status. Every moment is a risk for me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt she will try to expose you in some way, but she won¡¯t now.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t move against you until she is in a greater position of influence. Moving too quickly will extend herself beyond her position of power, and she will lose her wedding robe in the process. She¡¯s not eager to do that. Finish your work for her. Offer her all of your assistance and be as useful to her as you can. Then wait. You will receive an important invitation. Accept it and never look back!¡±


    ¡°But what good is any of that to us? I could negotiate your freedom¡ª¡±


    He put his finger to my lips.


    ¡°I will take my freedom when the time is right. You needn¡¯t risk yourself to do it.¡±


    ¡°When will that be?¡±


    ¡°Soon. Will you trust me?¡±


    I felt I must trust him and said so.


    But he set his jaw grimly and answered, ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±


    This expression of doubt so provoked me, the words burst from my mouth unconsidered, ¡°Ask me for anything!¡±


    He replied with a crushing, ¡°I have nothing to ask you now, except that you wait.¡±


    ¡°You mean, I have nothing you want.¡±


    One rough hand held my resisting face to meet his gaze.


    ¡°Are you listening to me?¡±


    I shook my head free, but his gaze held mine.


    ¡°Know this¡ªand never forget it! You are worthy! Where you are going, they will teach you to doubt it. You¡¯ll prove it to yourself someday, but even without proof, you must believe me. I will come. Promise me you¡¯ll be ready.¡±


    I promised.


    He assisted me to my feet. I should not have been surprised to find he could manage the kitsuke of the disheveled sash. He could, and beautifully. He worked patiently, his breath falling on my neck, the neck he had once healed. At last he paused. Only then did I feel the tension in his hands, and it traveled swiftly from his fingers to my core. Our breathing fell into a rhythm and just as I thought I might not survive another moment of his nearness, he released me, disappearing through the doors.


    I sank, trembling to the tatami.


    The moon had risen high in the sky before I released myself again from a tight fetal position. The light softened my tension and relaxed my spine.


    Gradually, I unfolded and lengthened my limbs, then turned my face to the glowing orb. I stared at its familiar face and let its light pull me to standing.


    I needed every fractal of illumination, every glimmer of hope my mother moon could give me.

 Devices

    Kiyo appeared with a face as self-satisfied as I had ever seen, even behind opaque cosmetic.


    ¡°Was I not right? Did I not tell you I could arrange everything? All is well, and now you are ready to go on. However, you must not be too eager. You cannot have my pet. In the future, you¡¯ll have to find your own.¡±


    ¡°I cannot think of another person as a pet, much less your gardener.¡±


    Kiyo affected a hurt countenance. ¡°Such ingratitude. I think I have been as generous to you as anyone could ever be, and now you are coveting my possessions, but I¡¯ll take no offense.¡± She sighed, then murmured, ¡°Better get some sleep, Fuyuko. You look as though you need some.¡±


    * * *


    I worked and slept for no more than two hours at a stretch for the succeeding seven days and nights. And it was well I didn¡¯t take much rest, because the various products of my labor seemed to distract Kiyo from her role as tormenter.


    Temporarily, she was quite overcome with pleasure because of them. I did as Ansei had asked, and worked hard to be serviceable to her, though at times her talk was almost beyond my endurance, less bearable even than Madame Ozawa¡¯s switch.


    ¡°I will invite you for a visit in my new home and if you will make me another piece as lovely as this, I will introduce you to some very good friends¡ªbut you must promise me not to work for them. Or at least only at my say-so. It is too thrilling to think of how I shall look in this! Oh, you really are brilliant. I could lock you up in my tea house forever!¡±


    I would have been a fool to doubt it. And I waited for her to lay her plan against me. Sometimes she spoke to me of finding me another person with whom to practice the art of manipulation, but she was in no position to execute this plan in her father¡¯s house. Yet, I knew she plotted. No matter how hard I worked, I could not keep her satisfied. True, I tried hard to do her bidding, but I could not, and would not, do everything, and she wouldn¡¯t feel secure until she had hooked me fast.


    ¡°You have worked so hard. I see you, weaving away day after day. No doubt you work past dark some nights. I want to reward you in some way! I want to give you my knowledge.¡±


    ¡°I had not much literary training,¡± I admitted without thinking. ¡°There is so much I would like to learn.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Practically anyone can teach you basic letters. Don¡¯t you understand I have tools much more valuable than that?¡±


    ¡°Well, to me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Listen to me. I can teach you what no one else can¡ªand what you are most in need of learning.¡±


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    I braced myself.


    ¡°I can teach you how to get the upper hand socially. Soon you shall know many people, sooner than you realize.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want the upper hand.¡±


    ¡°Oh you will, though. You will need it. And you had better listen closely to me now, for you will need the skill by week¡¯s end. My father¡¯s brother is coming to stay, and will bring his son. They will be here for the wedding, but if I know my cousin, he will make the most of his visit here. You may depend upon it.¡±


    I hated to ask, but could not help doing so.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Fuyuko. You are a lovely girl. More importantly, your talents with silk will be much on display. All will wish to see my trousseau. We will all be talking of the cost involved. You will certainly have an offer. Or your mother will. But I do not think he would make you very happy. He is from a good family, certainly. But he has very rigid ideas about marriage. I think you would find him quite suffocating.¡±


    ¡°I will not marry.¡±


    ¡°You will if you must. Every girl says she will not marry at some time or other. But you will.¡±


    These were, perhaps, the truest words she would ever speak to me.


    * * *


    Over the succeeding days, Kiyo tutored me in the art of escaping, or at least manipulating, a fate of matrimony. She lectured as she paced the tatami. ¡°Give my cousin a way to save face and you will spare him and yourself so much trouble. But remember, you must be subtle, but clear enough for him to recognize you are not a suitable wife. You shouldn¡¯t have trouble. You disqualified yourself only the other afternoon.¡±


    My jaw fell.


    ¡°I should tell him that?¡±


    Her eyes flew wide.


    ¡°Admit nothing! I told you to be subtle.¡±


    I stammered, ¡°I¡¯m not subtle.¡±


    She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes.


    ¡°Do I have to do everything for you? Laugh at his vulgar jokes; let him lead you off alone; don¡¯t let him get too far, but give him the signals. He will know.¡±


    ¡°And if he becomes angry and aggressive?¡±


    ¡°Put him off. Mollify his bad temper with vague promises.¡±


    I wanted to speak, but I held my tongue. I had never been to court or had many associations with society. And so, I said nothing, and she went away passably convinced I actually meant to lead her cousin into the affectation of a seduction.


    * * *


    I summoned Madame.


    ¡°Have you received any proposals from men in my behalf?¡±


    She stood silent, not answering for several seconds.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she finally admitted.


    I fought to keep my composure.


    ¡°What have you answered them?¡±


    ¡°I have said nothing.¡±


    ¡°Very well. You must decline them.¡±


    Madame raised her chin.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that is in your best interest.¡±


    ¡°You cannot force me into an unwanted marriage!¡±


    Now Madame fought to keep composure.


    ¡°Dear. You don¡¯t know what you want. You have never been a wife or a mother. You don¡¯t know the happiness of holding your own child.¡±


    ¡°I forbid you to accept any marriage proposal!¡±


    ¡°You may say that, but I don¡¯t believe you will keep your resolve.¡±


    ¡°Should I change my mind, I will tell you.¡±


    ¡°And by then it may be too late. Daughters are never permitted to make these decisions. And for good reason!¡±


    ¡°I will run,¡± I said, betraying my desperation.


    I had underestimated Madame¡¯s determination. ¡°I promise nothing.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll both live to regret it.¡± My voice was even, but shoulders trembled in anger.


    Madame¡¯s eyes only hardened.


    ¡°We will see.¡±


    It was the last we could say on the subject, and so, I was forced to confront the situation using what tools I had¡ªsome of them provided by Kiyo, but the deadliest devices were mine alone.

 The Nobu Heir

    The family guests arrived three nights in advance of the wedding date. Guests filled and then overwhelmed the house and its extensive eaves. I thought we might excuse ourselves and return to the inn, but Madame argued our hosts would take offense if we declined their hospitality. Madame always had her own objectives. We stayed, joining a queue of futon beds, lining most of the great room. In the numbers, I took refuge.


    Master Nobu introduced Madame and myself to his younger brother Ishiro and his wife, but not directly to his children. I noticed Madame repeatedly paired off with him in quiet conversation on the very first day of their arrival. His wife, Rina, seemed to take no interest in the discussion. She wore her years more noticeably than her husband, and wandered about the house as quiet as the shadows she retreated to.


    The Nobu heir was young, short, and possibly as thin as myself. We were never in conversation, but I sensed him to be as passive as his mother, and took courage. Madame showed no indication of having come to any agreement with Master Nobu¡¯s brother, and eager though she may have been to choose a husband for me, I thought she would wait. I did not like to think of the rift that would inevitably follow. For now, there seemed little risk of danger, and for the first time in many weeks, I began to relax.


    Music and feasting filled every corner of the great Nobu estate. By mid-morning, a few already staggered around drunken rice wine. Wives huddled together to admire the bride¡¯s trousseau, or gossip about the expense of the wedding. Children chased heedlessly through the peonies in the garden. Musicians clashed about on the veranda. Through all this, I felt little call for vigilance, and watching became tedious.


    I would not have gone off alone, day or night, had I felt any risk of danger, but I was slowly suffocating within doors, and the risk seemed so slight.


    * * *


    Even 100 jou from the house, the clash of cymbals jarred my nerves. The sun had long set, but the earth still retained much of the day¡¯s heat. Guests would be unable to sleep well for hours yet, and so I lingered on the edge of the grounds, well out of sight of the house.


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    The wedding procession would begin the following day, and I was eager to have it behind me. As Ansei had bid me, I had volunteered to perform Kiyo¡¯s kitsuke and she had consented. It would be the last service I would ever give her. Though she talked of inviting me to her new home, I would never go there.


    I wondered what Ansei had meant when he had said an invitation would come. How could he know? I wondered, but I did not doubt that he did know.


    The scuffing of feet crushing dry brush startled me out of my thoughts. I went rigid and breathed a sharp gasp when I recognized Master Nobu¡¯s younger brother Ishiro approaching. Surely, he had not followed me out here to make his son¡¯s case to me! To do so was beyond improper.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t a young lady have an escort so far from the house, and so late at night?¡±


    I bowed low. ¡°Yes. I am returning to the house now.¡±


    ¡°It is a nice, quiet evening. And formalities can be so stilting. I understand why you prefer to escape the crowded house. I am feeling rather overwhelmed by the numbers, myself.¡±


    ¡°The wedding is early tomorrow and I am tired,¡± I said, implying my wish to leave.


    ¡°Yes, it will all be over so soon. We must seize the moments before they flee,¡± he said, casting me a doleful glance.


    ¡°I perform the bride¡¯s kitsuke early,¡± I said, and would have passed by him, but he grasped my wrist and sighed.


    ¡°Weddings are such nostalgic occasions. They always remind me how happy I might have been, had I been the first born.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I tore my hand away, but not without scraping it first between his long fingernails. ¡°I am wanted at the house,¡± I said, wincing and almost falling forward.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be alarmed. I wish to discuss business,¡± he said, taking hold of the back edge of my kimono. ¡°Let me tell you how I will help you¡ªwhat I will give to you.¡±


    ¡°You need not give me anything, but distance,¡± I said, struggling to maintain calm.


    ¡°My brother can¡¯t pay you for your work. You will find out the truth soon enough. He is suffocating in debt. No one knows but me.¡±


    ¡°This is a matter for my mother to discuss with him.¡±


    ¡°I can see to it that she finds a way to make him pay.¡±


    ¡°Let go of me now,¡± My voice quavered, and my gaze fled to the lights of the house in the distance.


    ¡°Come. If you will not run away, I will let go and we can discuss this strategically. Can you do that?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said immediately, though I had no intention of staying to discuss a power alliance on his terms.


    Slowly, he loosened his grip. I wouldn¡¯t run, but my promise not to had nothing to do with it. I could not outdistance him in my heavy robes, but I could face him, even if it came to a fight.

 Disgrace

    I awakened sometime after midnight, hands and fingernails stained with blood. The light was too dim to see the extent of the smear upon my kimono, but it was there. I cast my gaze around for any sign of Master Nobu¡¯s brother, and saw a patch of disturbed grass, but no body. I drew a slow breath and hoped. Perhaps he had stalked back to the house alone.


    I remembered his threats and my having injured his face. The ugly scars would fit together with the scrapes upon my hands. Together they would more than testify of our struggle. The injuries I had inflicted upon him would be difficult badges to wear publicly. Perhaps, then, he would not return to the house. Either way, I could not fail to return, and yet, I could not appear stained with blood.


    I made my way toward the river and washed my hands and fingernails. I could do nothing for the silk, but must find a way to change and hide my kimono before the sun¡¯s rising.


    I stumbled toward the house as quickly as my heavy kimono permitted, and watched from a distance. A few lights and revelers remained wakeful on the veranda, playing go, or singing folk songs in wine-soused voices. I might be able to escape their notice, but I could not escape Madame¡¯s. She stood on the south-facing veranda, staring out into the garden. Vigilant. Very likely watching for me. And this was what taught me to blame her.


    She comprehended everything with the sight of my disheveled hair and disarranged robe, and she ran to me into the garden and guided me toward a quiet corner.


    ¡°What have you done?¡± It was the first time I had ever heard fear in Madame Sato¡¯s voice.


    ¡°How could you fail to tell me of Master Nobu¡¯s brother¡¯s interest!¡±


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    Her eyes widened, exposing the whites.


    ¡°Where is he?¡±


    ¡°Gone! Has he not returned to the house?¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Then I do not know where he is.¡±


    She gripped my shoulders.


    ¡°What did you do to him?¡±


    ¡°I remember we struggled, but I lost consciousness, and when I awakened he was gone.¡±


    She sighed heavily and released me.


    ¡°Let us hope he survived.¡±


    ¡°Do you care what he did to me?¡±


    ¡°I trust you to defend yourself.¡±


    ¡°You think I could overcome a man twice my size?¡± I asked, incredulous.


    Madame stood silent and finally answered with a chilling, ¡°Yes.¡±


    And with this confession, I perceived what Madame knew. She knew about me, and the violence I had done and would yet do, and she had brought me out of seclusion notwithstanding. I met her cool gaze.


    ¡°Then more¡¯s the blame to you for not communicating Nobu¡¯s intent.¡±


    ¡°And where was your judgment? If you had kept to the house, it hadn¡¯t happened.¡±


    I could make no defense to this. Madame wasn¡¯t concerned with justice, nor even with Nobu¡¯s personal welfare. My false identity could not bear the scrutiny of a scandal. My mysterious, often destructive, nature could bear it far less. We were both in a precarious situation.


    Madame made an impatient gesture with one hand and shuffled across the veranda into the house. When she returned, the Nagaishi samurai followed. I gasped and instinctively withdrew under the shadow of the eaves.


    Madame spoke to Nagaishi in a low tone.


    ¡°Can you do it?¡±


    He made an affirmative reply, promising three days, and leapt over the veranda, brushing by me, almost touching my sleeve. He paused for a moment to observe me warily, then disappeared into the darkness.


    ¡°Madame?¡± I whispered, my eyes following the now disappeared form of the samurai. ¡°Can we trust¡­?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ¡± she said, and silenced me with a warning glance. ¡°I have long had dealings with the Nagaishi. They are the Spider Clan. We can trust them.¡±


    * * *


    Madame and I were not natural suspects for a violent crime against a healthy man. Our prospects seemed safest if we stood by until the wedding¡¯s end. Twenty-four hours would be enough.

 Examination

    ¡°What have you done to your hands?¡± Kiyo asked, affecting concern, though I knew her interest tended toward good gossip.


    ¡°I chased a child¡¯s toy into a bramble bush.¡±


    ¡°Oh? I did not know there were brambles on our property.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, near the river.¡±


    ¡°A child went so far as the river?¡±


    ¡°The child did not, but the ball did.¡±


    ¡°My! It looks terrible. A toy is hardly worth the trouble.¡±


    ¡°I thought it worthwhile.¡±


    Kiyo narrowed her eyes, but it was not time for her to cross-examine me. It was time for me to examine her.


    I needed to take in Kiyo¡¯s every angle to manage the finest kitsuke possible, and inspected her body intimately.


    A proper kitsuke can be made to disguise a thousand flaws, and this was never truer than in Kiyo¡¯s case. She had always appeared a graceful figure to me, but by the early morning light, I saw a rather different picture.


    The most obvious problem was the size of her breasts. They were fuller than was fashionable and an obstacle for what could be called a flawless kitsuke. I pressed my palm against her, but the tissue was stubborn and she winced in pain, ¡°Gentle!¡±


    ¡°You are quite full breasted, and will require a very tight wrapping.¡±


    I turned her around and ran a hand briskly across her neck and back, feeling her shoulder blades and examining their contouring. Her neck and back were graceful enough, but not long, and might benefit from additional cosmetic. A more dramatic result would take time and skill to achieve.


    I brought my hands around to her ribs, and brushed them straight over her navel, where they should have fallen swiftly down, but instead, there was a fullness I had not expected, I returned to her middle, then started. My eyes sought hers for confirmation. I found it, smug and laughing, though she ought to have been terrified.


    Kiyo seemed to be in a very complicated situation. Though the world may care very little how many different men¡¯s children I should bear, they cared very much about a woman of Kiyo¡¯s noble rank. How she could laugh, I could not guess. It must be a mask. An illusion. She should be terrified and for a moment, my heart ached. ¡°What can you be thinking¡ª?¡±


    Kiyo cut me short. ¡°It is nothing. I know how it looks to you, but believe me, I haven¡¯t your gift for indiscretion. It is a condition I have hidden for years, even from my parents, but I am ready to put it to good use.¡±


    I stiffened.


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    ¡°That¡¯s none of my business.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but it is business, and very much yours, so hear me out.¡±


    I never could prevent Kiyo from speaking.


    ¡°Do you know how much your mother has demanded for the price of my trousseau?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see the connection. And no. I have no idea.¡±


    ¡°I said hear me out.¡± Kiyo¡¯s cheeks flushed with anger. ¡°It is an extortive, impoverishing sum. It is utterly ridiculous and we will not pay it!¡±


    It occurred to me then that, perhaps, they could not pay it, as Master Nobu¡¯s brother Ishiro had claimed. The Nobu domain seemed so prosperous, but like many of the warrior class whose domains relied upon agriculture, perhaps they really were suffering. ¡°I cannot help what my mother has asked.¡±


    Kiyo folded her arms across her breast.


    ¡°I know you do not care for money, but you care for something and I know what it is.¡±


    My jaw slackened, as I perceived her circling around my weakness.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°I will give him to you for the price.¡±


    ¡°You cannot cast another person around like a bag of coins!¡±


    ¡°Yes. I can.¡±


    I remembered what Ansei had claimed. He was but biding his time and would leave whenever he wanted and took courage. He did not need me to negotiate his freedom, and I didn¡¯t have to accept that risk.


    ¡°I will not accept, nor can I. You must know my mother would not accept.¡±


    Kiyo frowned.


    ¡°I think you had better think about it some more.¡±


    ¡°Kiyo, if you love him, then you should prove it. He could take care of you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. I¡¯m not actually with child.¡±


    ¡°It seems I can do nothing for you, though I wish I could.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a shame, because it will be his second offense. And my father will hate to kill him on account of this.¡± Kiyo swept her open palm across her navel.


    ¡°But you said yourself, it¡¯s a lie!¡±


    ¡°My word and my governess¡¯s testimony is strong evidence, and my father is daimyo, after all. And you yourself thought I was carrying a child.¡±


    A single bead of sweat fell across my brow and mingled with the tears now burning in my eye. I cinched a cotton binding around Kiyo¡¯s breasts with a sturdy tug.


    ¡°I will speak to my mother.¡±


    ¡°I thought you would reconsider.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I said, walking away. ¡°I need additional materials.¡±


    It was several minutes before I could again compose myself to face her.


    I didn¡¯t know whether Kiyo would make an accusation against Ansei so close to her wedding date. Perhaps she would not have to and was relying upon that. Her father was daimyo, after all. And he may have executed servants quietly on less evidence than Kiyo might forge. Her threats were credible. And though Ansei claimed he could leave at any time, I couldn¡¯t risk his life and a probable scandal.


    With trembling fingers, and eyes glazed with tears, I robed Kiyo, and tied the heavy silk obi around her kimono. Somehow, my trembling fingers managed to finish the task, and I stood back and observed the results of my labor without pleasure.


    Kiyo was an extraordinary bride. She shone more lovely than any I had ever seen or heard report of, results belying the truth beneath folds of silk and layers of cosmetic powder. Though it should have been the most triumphant achievement of my career, it was my greatest shame. Neither I, nor Madame Sato, could take any pleasure in Kiyo¡¯s glory.


    We sat close together at the feast, watching the progress of the sun falling on the horizon, bearing with pain every profusion over the bride¡¯s gown,, the flawless kitsuke, and staring with feigned astonishment at every comment on the strange disappearance of the host¡¯s younger brother.


    The mysterious Nagaishi samurai never returned to the Nobu castle. As promised, the younger brother was not found until three days following the feast. And then, not until late in the day. There was such a calamity immediately following the wedding, and the Minister required much attention from the family. Many more days passed before Nobu could summon enough men to mount a search for the killer.


    You might imagine the shock in the village, that such a brilliant wedding need be followed so closely with a funeral. And both of the dead from the great Nobu family!

 Threads of Poison

    ¡°What have you done to your hands?¡± Kiyo asked, affecting concern, though I knew her interest tended toward good gossip.


    ¡°I chased a child¡¯s toy into a bramble bush.¡±


    ¡°Oh? I did not know there were brambles on our property.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, near the river.¡±


    ¡°A child went so far as the river?¡±


    ¡°The child did not, but the ball did.¡±


    ¡°My! It looks terrible. A toy is hardly worth the trouble.¡±


    ¡°I thought it worthwhile.¡±


    Kiyo narrowed her eyes, but it was not time for her to cross-examine me. It was time for me to examine her.


    I needed to take in Kiyo¡¯s every angle to manage the finest kitsuke possible, and inspected her body intimately.


    A proper kitsuke can be made to disguise a thousand flaws, and this was never truer than in Kiyo¡¯s case. She had always appeared a graceful figure to me, but by the early morning light, I saw a rather different picture.


    The most obvious problem was the size of her breasts. They were fuller than was fashionable and an obstacle for what could be called a flawless kitsuke. I pressed my palm against her, but the tissue was stubborn and she winced in pain, ¡°Gentle!¡±


    ¡°You are quite full breasted, and will require a very tight wrapping.¡±


    I turned her around and ran a hand briskly across her neck and back, feeling her shoulder blades and examining their contouring. Her neck and back were graceful enough, but not long, and might benefit from additional cosmetic. A more dramatic result would take time and skill to achieve.


    I brought my hands around to her ribs, and brushed them straight over her navel, where they should have fallen swiftly down, but instead, there was a fullness I had not expected, I returned to her middle, then started. My eyes sought hers for confirmation. I found it, smug and laughing, though she ought to have been terrified.


    Kiyo seemed to be in a very complicated situation. Though the world may care very little how many different men¡¯s children I should bear, they cared very much about a woman of Kiyo¡¯s noble rank. How she could laugh, I could not guess. It must be a mask. An illusion. She should be terrified and for a moment, my heart ached. ¡°What can you be thinking¡ª?¡±


    Kiyo cut me short. ¡°It is nothing. I know how it looks to you, but believe me, I haven¡¯t your gift for indiscretion. It is a condition I have hidden for years, even from my parents, but I am ready to put it to good use.¡±


    I stiffened.


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    ¡°That¡¯s none of my business.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but it is business, and very much yours, so hear me out.¡±


    I never could prevent Kiyo from speaking.


    ¡°Do you know how much your mother has demanded for the price of my trousseau?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see the connection. And no. I have no idea.¡±


    ¡°I said hear me out.¡± Kiyo¡¯s cheeks flushed with anger. ¡°It is an extortive, impoverishing sum. It is utterly ridiculous and we will not pay it!¡±


    It occurred to me then that, perhaps, they could not pay it, as Master Nobu¡¯s brother Ishiro had claimed. The Nobu domain seemed so prosperous, but like many of the warrior class whose domains relied upon agriculture, perhaps they really were suffering. ¡°I cannot help what my mother has asked.¡±


    Kiyo folded her arms across her breast.


    ¡°I know you do not care for money, but you care for something and I know what it is.¡±


    My jaw slackened, as I perceived her circling around my weakness.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°I will give him to you for the price.¡±


    ¡°You cannot cast another person around like a bag of coins!¡±


    ¡°Yes. I can.¡±


    I remembered what Ansei had claimed. He was but biding his time and would leave whenever he wanted and took courage. He did not need me to negotiate his freedom, and I didn¡¯t have to accept that risk.


    ¡°I will not accept, nor can I. You must know my mother would not accept.¡±


    Kiyo frowned.


    ¡°I think you had better think about it some more.¡±


    ¡°Kiyo, if you love him, then you should prove it. He could take care of you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. I¡¯m not actually with child.¡±


    ¡°It seems I can do nothing for you, though I wish I could.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a shame, because it will be his second offense. And my father will hate to kill him on account of this.¡± Kiyo swept her open palm across her navel.


    ¡°But you said yourself, it¡¯s a lie!¡±


    ¡°My word and my governess¡¯s testimony is strong evidence, and my father is daimyo, after all. And you yourself thought I was carrying a child.¡±


    A single bead of sweat fell across my brow and mingled with the tears now burning in my eye. I cinched a cotton binding around Kiyo¡¯s breasts with a sturdy tug.


    ¡°I will speak to my mother.¡±


    ¡°I thought you would reconsider.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I said, walking away. ¡°I need additional materials.¡±


    It was several minutes before I could again compose myself to face her.


    I didn¡¯t know whether Kiyo would make an accusation against Ansei so close to her wedding date. Perhaps she would not have to and was relying upon that. Her father was daimyo, after all. And he may have executed servants quietly on less evidence than Kiyo might forge. Her threats were credible. And though Ansei claimed he could leave at any time, I couldn¡¯t risk his life and a probable scandal.


    With trembling fingers, and eyes glazed with tears, I robed Kiyo, and tied the heavy silk obi around her kimono. Somehow, my trembling fingers managed to finish the task, and I stood back and observed the results of my labor without pleasure.


    Kiyo was an extraordinary bride. She shone more lovely than any I had ever seen or heard report of, results belying the truth beneath folds of silk and layers of cosmetic powder. Though it should have been the most triumphant achievement of my career, it was my greatest shame. Neither I, nor Madame Sato, could take any pleasure in Kiyo¡¯s glory.


    We sat close together at the feast, watching the progress of the sun falling on the horizon, bearing with pain every profusion over the bride¡¯s gown,, the flawless kitsuke, and staring with feigned astonishment at every comment on the strange disappearance of the host¡¯s younger brother.


    The mysterious Nagaishi samurai never returned to the Nobu castle. As promised, the younger brother was not found until three days following the feast. And then, not until late in the day. There was such a calamity immediately following the wedding, and the Minister required much attention from the family. Many more days passed before Nobu could summon enough men to mount a search for the killer.


    You might imagine the shock in the village, that such a brilliant wedding need be followed so closely with a funeral. And both of the dead from the great Nobu family!

 Eastern Capital

    It wasn¡¯t just any letter. It was a letter with an imperial seal, and as good as a death sentence to me, though politely worded.


    The note invited me to the imperial palace at the Eastern Capital. The cultural heart of Otoppon, and seat of the figurehead emperor under the Ruling House. The word upon the invitation was invite, but there could be no question of declining the Emperor, figurehead though he be. I had to go, as much because I had promised Ansei I would accept the invitation. I didn¡¯t know how he knew it would come, but he had foretold this event and made me promise.


    Madame put her foot down. ¡°Suppose the Emperor¡¯s own daughter should be poisoned and die when you robe her? You cannot go!¡±


    ¡°Then they will execute me, but I will answer the summons. Do you really think I should run from it? That doesn¡¯t sound like you, Madame.¡±


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    ¡°There is living without fear, and then there is dallying with sedition. I think it a fair distinction.¡±


    ¡°I was invited, Madame¡ªnot you. You needn¡¯t go and risk your life. An Imperial servant will escort me.¡±


    ¡°You intend to go on without me?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    She sighed heavily.


    ¡°I will miss you when you die.¡±


    I never could spar with Madame and gave up before beginning.


    I had expected her to say that I was not prepared for the palace¡¯s formalism¡ªthat I had successfully impersonated a samurai¡¯s daughter to gentrified country people, but would never pass to the aristocracy at court. The imperial princess would see through me. All these facts passed unuttered. Perhaps she knew they were plain to me. And yet Madame bit back every word it. She packed up the hummingbird obi in her best chest and bid me an, for Madame, almost emotional goodbye.


    ¡°Do not forget me.¡±


    I bowed deeply.


    I didn¡¯t know if I would ever see her again, but I would be an ungrateful liar if I failed to acknowledge that Madame Sato had once saved me.

 Removed chapter

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    The crockery crashed in the basin as I shifted a fragile tower of porcelain bowls, pots, and fragments of food among the scattered abalone shells. Leftovers from Madame''s feast. There was still so much work, and my shoulders collapsed at the sight of it.


    "Crush the shells out in the compost heap tomorrow morning, but you had better take them out to the garden right away or they''ll draw flies." Cook yawned again. "I''m going to bed."


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    She left me, peering at an empty abalone shell and its watery iridescence under the low lamplight. Pretty, even in the clutter.


    At once, an idea unfolded in my mind''s eye. A shot of adrenaline spiked my blood, and the workday''s fatigue disappeared.


    With new-found energy, I piled shell after shell into my cotton apron and heaved them down the garden steps and along the gravel path back to the garden spring. Kneeling beside the pool''s edge of bare earth, I dug my fingers deep into the moist black clay. Yes! It would do nicely.

 Ambition

    Before the sun set that very day, I had begun working on the most complicated design I had ever attempted. It was so ambitious, a request for six months seemed rather conservative than excessive. I took confidence in the instinct that had inspired the request for time. The design¡¯s inspiration had come to my mind with the direct communication my creative genius always delivered. And even a penalty of death would not alter my commitment to trusting this inspiration. I would adhere to it and suffer the consequences.


    I had no confidence in privacy, however. And so it followed. Once making a reasonable beginning, courtiers, perhaps spying for the Princess herself, began to peek inside my quarters to view my loom, and then disappear as quickly as they had come. Sometimes they were so sly, the only thing announcing their presence was a slight vapor of perfume.


    I had no feedback from which to draw any conclusions of approval. As yet, my design was so complex, and I had completed so little of it, I felt certain of disapproval, and I regretted again my lack of privacy.


    With the exception of a daily bath with the courtiers and tea, I limited my interactions with others. Eventually, at bath or at tea, I could gauge the Princess¡¯s approval of my work by the warmth the courtiers showed to me on either occasion. Suddenly, it seemed, they communicated more than formula. There were invitations to hear a poetry reading, or to participate in a dance. I declined every invitation but one. That one came from the Princess herself, and I couldn¡¯t reject it.


    She had invited me to take tea with her. This pleased me, but I hated to go. It would mean another uncomfortable confrontation with royalty, perhaps more than the Princess, and I would be again scrubbed and shaved and painted. But a relationship with the Princess might also delay my work, and this was well, because my increasing confidence had sped my performance slightly ahead of the timeline I was trying to keep.


    When I knelt once again across from the Princess and her companions, I remembered Madame Sato and her story of the suspended katana. I thought I sat as though a great katana were dangling above me, suspended by a single strand from a horse¡¯s mane, but I knew better than to doubt the existence of a blade above the Princess¡¯ head as well, and it must be at least as sharp. The imperial family had already seen their interests carved up by the victory of the Okugawa Clan years ago. Their importance at Eastern Capital was reduced to a symbol, and they held even this symbolic position only at the doubtful mercy of war loving men. The whole family, together, bore the shame of mere figurehead preservation.


    As we shared a quiet tea, I let myself wonder further what the more intimate concerns of a figurehead princess could be. My thoughts being as they were, it was without shock that I received her invitation to join her for a private walk in the garden after tea.


    ¡°The fall colors are beautiful in our garden. You have not quite the same exquisite variety of foliage in the outer court,¡± she said, as she led me intimately on her arm. She kept her comments safe and uninteresting, for the sake of her attendants watching, but when we had created a little distance from her watchers, she spoke more frankly.


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    ¡°It was a chilly reception I gave you last month,¡± the Princess said.


    I couldn¡¯t contradict her.


    ¡°We invite a number of guests to court, both artists and craftsmen. Some of them behave abominably, bringing with them infection and vermin. In those cases, we have had to dismiss them rather quickly. You understand.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Highness.¡±


    ¡°Not that I expected the same from you. Your family is noble, after all. It is rather a novelty to have a weaver¡¯s accomplishment in a noble.¡±


    ¡°Is it, Highness?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I have not been to see your loom, but I am very curious. Reports have been quite exciting. Shall we go and have a peek now?¡±


    She asked me as though I had a right to say no, but I knew better.


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    She gave a signal to a companion following at a distance, and within a few seconds, the way was clear for the Princess to follow me to my loom.


    I always fitted the loom with a large covering when not working, and The Princess commanded her companion to remove the draping with a wave of her royal fingers.


    Once removed, the Princess gave a gasp.


    ¡°Why, sakura!¡± she exclaimed at the exposed silk. ¡°And it will be finished for the annual festival?¡±


    ¡°I hope so,¡± I said, though in reality, I fondly wished to never finish it.


    ¡°I have never seen anything to equal it.¡± Her eyes shone with pleasure.


    ¡°You honor me, Highness.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. I shall have a challenging time awaiting its completion. And of course, I will come again soon. I suppose there is no point in pushing its completion any faster, since the only fitting occasion is so far beyond us. But oh! I will not be able to let you go.¡±


    I had not been so bold as to expect this kind of favor from the Princess, but this was a chance I could not let pass by.


    ¡°I beg Your Highness, then, to do as you say. Please, don¡¯t let me go!¡± My voice cracked with emotion.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Keep me as your private weaver.¡±


    Her eyes widened.


    ¡°But surely you have a life to return to? Surely you have a betrothal to keep?¡±


    ¡°No, indeed. My family was stricken, and my betrothed as well.¡±


    ¡°You have no one?¡±


    ¡°Only my mother survives. And I have no ambition to marry.¡±


    The Princess covered a slight smile with her fan.


    ¡°This is a maidenly wish I believe I understand. But perhaps you will not feel so always. Many high-ranking men might wish to marry you.¡±


    I lowered my eyes.


    ¡°If I do not marry, I will be here to serve you always.¡±


    The Princess averted her eyes.


    ¡°You want to withdraw from society like a monk? Well. I will make a request of the Emperor, and give you an answer.¡±


    This was a strategic play, but it was not one I had not already well considered. If there was any threat I feared, it was an approach or proposition by a high-ranking man. Would I fight and kill him also? How could I? And how could I not?


    If I could persuade the Princess to keep me as her servant, I might avoid being cornered in at least one way, and I might be able to rely upon the rigid rules of court for every other form of protection. I might, but it seemed unlikely. All around me seemed to fall back upon secret alliances and clandestine liaisons to fortify their positions. Were I to do the same, I might learn of threats in advance and avoid them. I might even discover some information about Ansei.


    Having obtained the Princess¡¯s favor, I might realistically make such an attempt at life. With the Princess¡¯ approval, I had new social credit to trade upon. And I began to see that failing to leverage that credit would be a mistake.

 Royal-tea

    Before the sun set that very day, I had begun working on the most complicated design I had ever attempted. It was so ambitious, a request for six months seemed rather conservative than excessive. I took confidence in the instinct that had inspired the request for time. The design¡¯s inspiration had come to my mind with the direct communication my creative genius always delivered. And even a penalty of death would not alter my commitment to trusting this inspiration. I would adhere to it and suffer the consequences.


    I had no confidence in privacy, however. And so it followed. Once making a reasonable beginning, courtiers, perhaps spying for the Princess herself, began to peek inside my quarters to view my loom, and then disappear as quickly as they had come. Sometimes they were so sly, the only thing announcing their presence was a slight vapor of perfume.


    I had no feedback from which to draw any conclusions of approval. As yet, my design was so complex, and I had completed so little of it, I felt certain of disapproval, and I regretted again my lack of privacy.


    With the exception of a daily bath with the courtiers and tea, I limited my interactions with others. Eventually, at bath or at tea, I could gauge the Princess¡¯s approval of my work by the warmth the courtiers showed to me on either occasion. Suddenly, it seemed, they communicated more than formula. There were invitations to hear a poetry reading, or to participate in a dance. I declined every invitation but one. That one came from the Princess herself, and I couldn¡¯t reject it.


    She had invited me to take tea with her. This pleased me, but I hated to go. It would mean another uncomfortable confrontation with royalty, perhaps more than the Princess, and I would be again scrubbed and shaved and painted. But a relationship with the Princess might also delay my work, and this was well, because my increasing confidence had sped my performance slightly ahead of the timeline I was trying to keep.


    When I knelt once again across from the Princess and her companions, I remembered Madame Sato and her story of the suspended katana. I thought I sat as though a great katana were dangling above me, suspended by a single strand from a horse¡¯s mane, but I knew better than to doubt the existence of a blade above the Princess¡¯ head as well, and it must be at least as sharp. The imperial family had already seen their interests carved up by the victory of the Okugawa Clan years ago. Their importance at Eastern Capital was reduced to a symbol, and they held even this symbolic position only at the doubtful mercy of war loving men. The whole family, together, bore the shame of mere figurehead preservation.


    As we shared a quiet tea, I let myself wonder further what the more intimate concerns of a figurehead princess could be. My thoughts being as they were, it was without shock that I received her invitation to join her for a private walk in the garden after tea.


    ¡°The fall colors are beautiful in our garden. You have not quite the same exquisite variety of foliage in the outer court,¡± she said, as she led me intimately on her arm. She kept her comments safe and uninteresting, for the sake of her attendants watching, but when we had created a little distance from her watchers, she spoke more frankly.


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    ¡°It was a chilly reception I gave you last month,¡± the Princess said.


    I couldn¡¯t contradict her.


    ¡°We invite a number of guests to court, both artists and craftsmen. Some of them behave abominably, bringing with them infection and vermin. In those cases, we have had to dismiss them rather quickly. You understand.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Highness.¡±


    ¡°Not that I expected the same from you. Your family is noble, after all. It is rather a novelty to have a weaver¡¯s accomplishment in a noble.¡±


    ¡°Is it, Highness?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I have not been to see your loom, but I am very curious. Reports have been quite exciting. Shall we go and have a peek now?¡±


    She asked me as though I had a right to say no, but I knew better.


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    She gave a signal to a companion following at a distance, and within a few seconds, the way was clear for the Princess to follow me to my loom.


    I always fitted the loom with a large covering when not working, and The Princess commanded her companion to remove the draping with a wave of her royal fingers.


    Once removed, the Princess gave a gasp.


    ¡°Why, sakura!¡± she exclaimed at the exposed silk. ¡°And it will be finished for the annual festival?¡±


    ¡°I hope so,¡± I said, though in reality, I fondly wished to never finish it.


    ¡°I have never seen anything to equal it.¡± Her eyes shone with pleasure.


    ¡°You honor me, Highness.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. I shall have a challenging time awaiting its completion. And of course, I will come again soon. I suppose there is no point in pushing its completion any faster, since the only fitting occasion is so far beyond us. But oh! I will not be able to let you go.¡±


    I had not been so bold as to expect this kind of favor from the Princess, but this was a chance I could not let pass by.


    ¡°I beg Your Highness, then, to do as you say. Please, don¡¯t let me go!¡± My voice cracked with emotion.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Keep me as your private weaver.¡±


    Her eyes widened.


    ¡°But surely you have a life to return to? Surely you have a betrothal to keep?¡±


    ¡°No, indeed. My family was stricken, and my betrothed as well.¡±


    ¡°You have no one?¡±


    ¡°Only my mother survives. And I have no ambition to marry.¡±


    The Princess covered a slight smile with her fan.


    ¡°This is a maidenly wish I believe I understand. But perhaps you will not feel so always. Many high-ranking men might wish to marry you.¡±


    I lowered my eyes.


    ¡°If I do not marry, I will be here to serve you always.¡±


    The Princess averted her eyes.


    ¡°You want to withdraw from society like a monk? Well. I will make a request of the Emperor, and give you an answer.¡±


    This was a strategic play, but it was not one I had not already well considered. If there was any threat I feared, it was an approach or proposition by a high-ranking man. Would I fight and kill him also? How could I? And how could I not?


    If I could persuade the Princess to keep me as her servant, I might avoid being cornered in at least one way, and I might be able to rely upon the rigid rules of court for every other form of protection. I might, but it seemed unlikely. All around me seemed to fall back upon secret alliances and clandestine liaisons to fortify their positions. Were I to do the same, I might learn of threats in advance and avoid them. I might even discover some information about Ansei.


    Having obtained the Princess¡¯s favor, I might realistically make such an attempt at life. With the Princess¡¯ approval, I had new social credit to trade upon. And I began to see that failing to leverage that credit would be a mistake.

 The Unraveling

    Before the sun set that very day, I had begun working on the most complicated design I had ever attempted. It was so ambitious, a request for six months seemed rather conservative than excessive. I took confidence in the instinct that had inspired the request for time. The design¡¯s inspiration had come to my mind with the direct communication my creative genius always delivered. And even a penalty of death would not alter my commitment to trusting this inspiration. I would adhere to it and suffer the consequences.


    I had no confidence in privacy, however. And so it followed. Once making a reasonable beginning, courtiers, perhaps spying for the Princess herself, began to peek inside my quarters to view my loom, and then disappear as quickly as they had come. Sometimes they were so sly, the only thing announcing their presence was a slight vapor of perfume.


    I had no feedback from which to draw any conclusions of approval. As yet, my design was so complex, and I had completed so little of it, I felt certain of disapproval, and I regretted again my lack of privacy.


    With the exception of a daily bath with the courtiers and tea, I limited my interactions with others. Eventually, at bath or at tea, I could gauge the Princess¡¯s approval of my work by the warmth the courtiers showed to me on either occasion. Suddenly, it seemed, they communicated more than formula. There were invitations to hear a poetry reading, or to participate in a dance. I declined every invitation but one. That one came from the Princess herself, and I couldn¡¯t reject it.


    She had invited me to take tea with her. This pleased me, but I hated to go. It would mean another uncomfortable confrontation with royalty, perhaps more than the Princess, and I would be again scrubbed and shaved and painted. But a relationship with the Princess might also delay my work, and this was well, because my increasing confidence had sped my performance slightly ahead of the timeline I was trying to keep.


    When I knelt once again across from the Princess and her companions, I remembered Madame Sato and her story of the suspended katana. I thought I sat as though a great katana were dangling above me, suspended by a single strand from a horse¡¯s mane, but I knew better than to doubt the existence of a blade above the Princess¡¯ head as well, and it must be at least as sharp. The imperial family had already seen their interests carved up by the victory of the Okugawa Clan years ago. Their importance at Eastern Capital was reduced to a symbol, and they held even this symbolic position only at the doubtful mercy of war loving men. The whole family, together, bore the shame of mere figurehead preservation.


    As we shared a quiet tea, I let myself wonder further what the more intimate concerns of a figurehead princess could be. My thoughts being as they were, it was without shock that I received her invitation to join her for a private walk in the garden after tea.


    ¡°The fall colors are beautiful in our garden. You have not quite the same exquisite variety of foliage in the outer court,¡± she said, as she led me intimately on her arm. She kept her comments safe and uninteresting, for the sake of her attendants watching, but when we had created a little distance from her watchers, she spoke more frankly.


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    ¡°It was a chilly reception I gave you last month,¡± the Princess said.


    I couldn¡¯t contradict her.


    ¡°We invite a number of guests to court, both artists and craftsmen. Some of them behave abominably, bringing with them infection and vermin. In those cases, we have had to dismiss them rather quickly. You understand.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Highness.¡±


    ¡°Not that I expected the same from you. Your family is noble, after all. It is rather a novelty to have a weaver¡¯s accomplishment in a noble.¡±


    ¡°Is it, Highness?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I have not been to see your loom, but I am very curious. Reports have been quite exciting. Shall we go and have a peek now?¡±


    She asked me as though I had a right to say no, but I knew better.


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    She gave a signal to a companion following at a distance, and within a few seconds, the way was clear for the Princess to follow me to my loom.


    I always fitted the loom with a large covering when not working, and The Princess commanded her companion to remove the draping with a wave of her royal fingers.


    Once removed, the Princess gave a gasp.


    ¡°Why, sakura!¡± she exclaimed at the exposed silk. ¡°And it will be finished for the annual festival?¡±


    ¡°I hope so,¡± I said, though in reality, I fondly wished to never finish it.


    ¡°I have never seen anything to equal it.¡± Her eyes shone with pleasure.


    ¡°You honor me, Highness.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. I shall have a challenging time awaiting its completion. And of course, I will come again soon. I suppose there is no point in pushing its completion any faster, since the only fitting occasion is so far beyond us. But oh! I will not be able to let you go.¡±


    I had not been so bold as to expect this kind of favor from the Princess, but this was a chance I could not let pass by.


    ¡°I beg Your Highness, then, to do as you say. Please, don¡¯t let me go!¡± My voice cracked with emotion.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Keep me as your private weaver.¡±


    Her eyes widened.


    ¡°But surely you have a life to return to? Surely you have a betrothal to keep?¡±


    ¡°No, indeed. My family was stricken, and my betrothed as well.¡±


    ¡°You have no one?¡±


    ¡°Only my mother survives. And I have no ambition to marry.¡±


    The Princess covered a slight smile with her fan.


    ¡°This is a maidenly wish I believe I understand. But perhaps you will not feel so always. Many high-ranking men might wish to marry you.¡±


    I lowered my eyes.


    ¡°If I do not marry, I will be here to serve you always.¡±


    The Princess averted her eyes.


    ¡°You want to withdraw from society like a monk? Well. I will make a request of the Emperor, and give you an answer.¡±


    This was a strategic play, but it was not one I had not already well considered. If there was any threat I feared, it was an approach or proposition by a high-ranking man. Would I fight and kill him also? How could I? And how could I not?


    If I could persuade the Princess to keep me as her servant, I might avoid being cornered in at least one way, and I might be able to rely upon the rigid rules of court for every other form of protection. I might, but it seemed unlikely. All around me seemed to fall back upon secret alliances and clandestine liaisons to fortify their positions. Were I to do the same, I might learn of threats in advance and avoid them. I might even discover some information about Ansei.


    Having obtained the Princess¡¯s favor, I might realistically make such an attempt at life. With the Princess¡¯ approval, I had new social credit to trade upon. And I began to see that failing to leverage that credit would be a mistake.

 Risk

    The elderly courtier¡¯s advice was rash. Following it risked every measure of friendship I had painstakingly created with the Princess. Transgressing the rules of court to achieve the Princess¡¯s trust? She might have me thrown out! At best, I would be warned, censured, and then isolated and watched. But for my own reasons, I knew I would do it.


    Even while I rejected the idea, a crisp vision of my transgression appeared in my mind¡¯s eye. I constantly heard the old woman¡¯s instructions echoing in my brain¡ªnot for the sake of the Princess¡¯s redemption, but for my own knowledge and ultimate survival.


    I was blind to the forces directing my life. And what value to me was a Princess¡¯s tepid friendship? Ansei had not come. If I were to survive, I needed to be more than an accomplished weaver of silk. I must be indispensable to someone far more powerful than myself. Whatever damage I inflicted must be a light matter next to my value. Pretty silk would not compensate for poison.


    However unlikely, the old courtier knew something¡ªperceived something in her blindness that the rest of court couldn¡¯t see. She knew the powers that allied with the Emperor against the Shogunate. She detected the ebb and flow of rebellion. Not by direct information, or even intuition. She read the tension between people, as I read the tension between threads of fabric. The urgency in her grip traveled up my arm beyond my shoulder and into my heart, until a plan to approach the Princess in violation of court rules became all I ever thought of. Friendship wasn¡¯t enough for me. I must earn my way to secrets, as well.


    Illness had caused me to doubt my own mind before. I had reason to doubt it again as I prepared to tempt the court with behavior likely to have me exiled, but to continue as I was without intervention was also a risk. I would take the steps my instincts were urging.


    Early morning, before the sun was up, I would dress and trespass into the inner court alone. I had watched, and knew the moment when I might sneak past the guard stationed by the gate to the inner palace. I knew the court well enough to chart a course, and thought I might reach as far as the Ogakumonjou before being apprehended. If I could get beyond it, I might go further yet, perhaps into the Dairi where the Princess would still be sleeping.


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    The family should be asleep when I was arrested and detained. I would not risk meeting the Princess somewhere by day. This would force a confrontation before she had fully considered the implications of my disobedience, and if anything, I depended upon her thoughtful consideration.


    She must interpret my disobedience as the old courtier had suggested. She must see my willingness to offend court rules, and perceive my act as loyal to her, individually. This was a tenuous distinction, but I trusted its necessity. Rebellion courted rebellion. The Princess needed someone she knew she could trust as she contemplated committing her own offenses.


    Dressed in the costume of a maidservant, and in the pre-dawn morning light, I passed through the gate, escaping observation. I walked my morning path through the garden, and this should have been provocative. Dressed as a house servant, I would have no reason to be there, but no one disturbed me. I walked on and reached the Ogakumonjou. Here, I broke the affectation of a servant, and looked behind me. Astonished, to find my path vacant, I paused, took a deep breath, and took the pathway toward the Dairi, where the Princess slept.


    I stared up ponderously at the stately structure. I had never been inside it. The Princess and I were not on such close terms as to give me access there. The air in my throat caught, and I swallowed it hard while I ascended the broad steps, rising slowly above each step as though I were shod in lead. The imperial residence was manned. And I stared at the guards, wondrous, expectant. They didn¡¯t seem to see me.


    I removed my sandals at the threshold and placed them neatly inside a large cupboard of red lacquer, then I surveyed my surroundings. I was forced to guess the direction of the Princess¡¯s¡¯ quarters. To stray into the Emperor¡¯s own room, I believed, would leave the Princess no avenue for intervention on my behalf. It would mean my death.


    I approached an elegant dining room with a mahogany table set with imported, blown glass goblets. I passed my fingertips over the velvet finish of a sideboard, trimmed in ebony, and padded deeper into the residence. I reached a narrow hallway flanked by a bank of closed doors and stopped. A hand reached from behind me and grasped my right shoulder.


    I spun and caught the recognizing glance of a high servant before being seized and held by the paralyzing hold of the palace guards.

 Provocation

    Guards dragged me, bound, outside the inner court to a retaining room on the edge of the outer court. Hands penetrated my robe, searching my body for evidence of my intent. Finding nothing, they threw me bodily into a cold, dark room innocent of even a window. I shivered where I crouched on bare feet, and waited for the interrogation that must follow.


    I waited long in that freezing cell¡ªlong enough to doubt my judgment in having provoked the tolerance, if not friendship, of my royal hosts. Whether worthy of this punishment or not, I might have avoided it. Would I survive the interrogation? Would my interrogator survive it?


    A guard unlatched the door with a groan of the heavy iron latch.


    He pulled me, cringing, into the now sun drenched exterior room, then dragged me by my still bound arms, halting and stumbling outside into the court. Within a moment, I could see we were returning to the inner court, not to the Dairi, but to the Ogakumonjou. Would I be questioned there?


    I fell prostrate upon the tatami, and soon, a servant announced the Emperor himself. I dared not look up, but prepared the lies I must speak if allowed to defend myself. I didn¡¯t wait long for his calm, yet stern voice to urge my explanation.


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    ¡°Who sent you into my private residence?¡±


    ¡°No one sent me, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°You cannot protect him. You will be tortured. It will be found out at last.¡±


    ¡°Your Majesty may torture me, but it cannot alter the truth. I trespassed into the Royal Residence only at the goading of a strange dream, urging me to go and protect the Princess from a malefactor.¡±


    ¡°How did you intend to defend the Princess? You carried no weapon.¡±


    ¡°I would have warned her of the threat.¡±


    A scoff of contempt.


    ¡°You are either lying or mad. There was no intruder but yourself.¡±


    ¡°In my dream, I saw clearly a stranger entering into the palace and heard a voice.¡±


    ¡°What did you hear?¡±


    I paused. Being no practiced liar, I felt sure of detection, but as I opened my mouth to speak, new words flooded into my mind, seemingly from nowhere, and the words followed quickly out of my own mouth without further reflection.


    ¡°You must hurry. Save Otoppon.¡±


    Silence fell over the hall, then, ¡°What do you think that means: Save Otoppon?¡±


    ¡°I do not know, but I pledge my loyalty to the Emperor. I will serve until I die. I have proven that I do not fear for my own life.¡±


    ¡°You have proven no such thing!¡±


    ¡°I will go to death to serve the Emperor.¡±


    The Emperor proclaimed me mad. And at last I dared lift my gaze above the tatami floor, but he gave a terse nod to the guards and strode out of the hall.

 Bondage

    Guards dragged me, bound, outside the inner court to a retaining room on the edge of the outer court. Hands penetrated my robe, searching my body for evidence of my intent. Finding nothing, they threw me bodily into a cold, dark room innocent of even a window. I shivered where I crouched on bare feet, and waited for the interrogation that must follow.


    I waited long in that freezing cell¡ªlong enough to doubt my judgment in having provoked the tolerance, if not friendship, of my royal hosts. Whether worthy of this punishment or not, I might have avoided it. Would I survive the interrogation? Would my interrogator survive it?


    A guard unlatched the door with a groan of the heavy iron latch.


    He pulled me, cringing, into the now sun drenched exterior room, then dragged me by my still bound arms, halting and stumbling outside into the court. Within a moment, I could see we were returning to the inner court, not to the Dairi, but to the Ogakumonjou. Would I be questioned there?


    I fell prostrate upon the tatami, and soon, a servant announced the Emperor himself. I dared not look up, but prepared the lies I must speak if allowed to defend myself. I didn¡¯t wait long for his calm, yet stern voice to urge my explanation.


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    ¡°Who sent you into my private residence?¡±


    ¡°No one sent me, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°You cannot protect him. You will be tortured. It will be found out at last.¡±


    ¡°Your Majesty may torture me, but it cannot alter the truth. I trespassed into the Royal Residence only at the goading of a strange dream, urging me to go and protect the Princess from a malefactor.¡±


    ¡°How did you intend to defend the Princess? You carried no weapon.¡±


    ¡°I would have warned her of the threat.¡±


    A scoff of contempt.


    ¡°You are either lying or mad. There was no intruder but yourself.¡±


    ¡°In my dream, I saw clearly a stranger entering into the palace and heard a voice.¡±


    ¡°What did you hear?¡±


    I paused. Being no practiced liar, I felt sure of detection, but as I opened my mouth to speak, new words flooded into my mind, seemingly from nowhere, and the words followed quickly out of my own mouth without further reflection.


    ¡°You must hurry. Save Otoppon.¡±


    Silence fell over the hall, then, ¡°What do you think that means: Save Otoppon?¡±


    ¡°I do not know, but I pledge my loyalty to the Emperor. I will serve until I die. I have proven that I do not fear for my own life.¡±


    ¡°You have proven no such thing!¡±


    ¡°I will go to death to serve the Emperor.¡±


    The Emperor proclaimed me mad. And at last I dared lift my gaze above the tatami floor, but he gave a terse nod to the guards and strode out of the hall.

 Sedition

    Carrying a few seditious lines on leaves of rice paper was enough evidence by itself to convict me of treason. I had lately shown myself indifferent enough to death, but of torture¡ªI was more afraid than I had ever been. And so, I supposed the risk I then bore in carrying a Princess¡¯ anonymous communication entitled me to break the seal and peruse its contents.


    This was what I had wanted, after all. This was the access to information I had risked my life to gain. I must for once discover where of the subtle currents of power were carrying me¡ªwhere the same currents had lead Ansei. I did love the Princess, but I couldn¡¯t live only to serve her. Putting questions of loyalty aside, I needed information to preserve my life and the lives of those who meant more to me than my own.


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    * * *


    I wandered far from the palace, through a market, and far along a string of narrow streets before I dared think of breaking the seal and reading the letter¡¯s contents. Once broken, I thought I could melt the simple seal again with the help of a little flame, but I had to find a lamp first. I cast my gaze around me. In such a dim quarter of the city, lamps ought to abound.


    A tiny teahouse to my left would have a kitchen. If unattended, I might sneak inside and light a twig on the fire. I ducked into the alley behind the house, held my breath and slowly broke the seal, then stared at the salutation.


    It began: Dearest Ansei.

 Secrets

    I read and reread the page, trembling between my fingers.


    Please forgive the risk I take in sending this communication to you now. Do not imagine it is a renewed plea of the kind I have sent before. You are dear to me as ever, but I have accepted the truth: for you, matters of the heart must always yield to matters of State. It is to this principal concern I wish to speak to you.


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    Your all-important doe has put herself into extraordinary danger which might have resulted in her death, had I not intervened. Do not be alarmed¡ªthe danger is now past, but I feel to express my limitations to you in the lengths I might reach for her protection. I know I promised you and your brothers to keep her safe against the day you will deploy her against our enemy, but I can no longer guarantee it. Whatever has caused your delay, please make haste, or I do not know whether she will survive.


    She signed the letter with her pseudonym.

 Risks

    Leaning against the teahouse wall for support, I read the letter yet again to the percussion of my pounding pulse.


    Without any additional evidence, I knew the Princess had written to my Ansei, and she had written him of myself, vaguely identified by an anonymous moniker. I stared through my mind¡¯s eye as the scattered intelligence assembled in my mind, but I could not interpret a reasonable story.


    It was unremarkable to me that even a princess had fallen in love with Ansei, but what higher State purpose was he devoted to above the love of a princess? And how did this purpose relate to me? What was this matter of State that so concerned him? And not him alone, but others? She had called them his brothers.


    What did she mean? Ansei intended to use me against an enemy? What enemy?


    Ansei¡¯s motives were more complex than he had ever implied. Then the truth opened to me with searing clarity. Strange to realize, it had laid naked before my eyes for many, many months.


    Ansei had implied this complexity, but I had been unable or unwilling to confront the implications with my eyes open. Ansei had told me directly: Someday I will ask you for some terrible thing I have no right to expect you to honor.


    What was this thing? And how did it relate to some seditious State purpose?


    A child rushed by me with a current of air that jostled the letter and brought me back to where I stood in space and time. I snatched up the letter and ripped it into pieces, then tossed the pieces into a filthy canal to one side of the street.


    The image of those corpses piled on top of each other in a garden grave flashed into my mind. I had killed them, I did not know how, but now I knew I was the weapon the letter had spoken of. Ansei would use me against his enemy. This was the thing I had been waiting, all but begging, for him to ask of me.


    A tool, an instrument of assassination. This was Ansei¡¯s intention for me. This was what I represented in his sight. From beginning to end, and for who knew how long.


    No wonder he feared me. No wonder he had withdrawn the way he had, and yet had begged my patience. All those promises. All that hope had been to keep me compliant. And he¡¯d managed simply enough, full knowing how I loved him.


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    * * *


    In the end, I returned to the palace, but I had not given up the idea of flight. As matters stood, however, the Princess would guess what I had done, and alert Ansei, who would pursue me.


    When I ran¡ªif I did run¡ªI would not risk pursuit. Yes, at one time I would have fled, only guessing what I was running from and to where I was going, but I had gained more patience with fear since then. I could bear this tension. I could hold it lightly.


    Perhaps I would intercept more letters. I would affect loyalty to the Princess, carry more correspondence, and use that intelligence to cobble together a plan of escape. Ansei had not come, and the Princess¡¯ communication having failed, he might yet delay.


    I had a little window of time, and in that space, I mourned the loss of a love I had never really possessed. How had I let myself believe it possible? I searched every memory of our interaction in the garden, at my loom, every tender word Ansei had ever spoken to me. In these words, I confirmed my doubt. He had repeatedly promised to be with me, but Ansei had never confessed the words: I love you.


    Yet, through all of his apparent deception, he had insisted upon one truth. He had warned me against fully trusting him. He had at least alluded to harmful motives. I had not heard his warnings, so self-deceived had I been.


    * * *


    It was well I had not run. The exposure from my detention had weakened me, and with my anxious mind, I succumbed, as I never had to illness. I could not weave, but lay abed with a fever for days.


    A low-ranking maid brought me broth, but otherwise awareness of time and my surroundings failed. Over days, I gradually regained strength and could think again and plan.


    Throughout my feverish stupor, I puzzled over my plight. One thing confused me beyond understanding. Why had Ansei worked so hard to persuade me of my own dignity? My value? Was such earnestness really necessary if I were only a weapon to him? And why and how could he use me against his target? I had never killed at will. Could I be so disarming? And how could he be sure, even if I could do such a thing, that I would be willing?


    I didn¡¯t puzzle long on this point, however. I was wretched with myself for it, but I still felt vulnerable to him. Even undeceived as I was, but he was not sure. He had never attempted to command me to do anything. Everything he had ever asked me had always been framed as a request. Would that change when I saw him next?


    I could not be Ansei¡¯s assassin. I retained that much sense of my own self, however degrading the life of abuse I had led. I would not become a machine to the revolution no matter how cruel the Ruling House. I would not be a mindless instrument.


    At night, I gazed at the sky and let heaven¡¯s glow reflect its glory against my face, and I tried¡ªhow I tried to believe it was a part of me!

 Springs

    Shogatsu came and went within the palace with revelry befitting royalty. I shared in none of it. Another week, and the rain season began. Finally, a kimono seamstress came, wrapped up my fabric in heavy rice paper, enclosed it within an ornate lacquer box for protection, and carried it away to finish it into a princess¡¯s kimono.


    My illness had so far excused me from the Princess and any of her invitations, but soon, I would have to face her. She would have instructions, perhaps another letter for me to deliver, but which, of course, I would intercept. I healed, and prepared myself for our mutual deception.


    I watched the rain and calculated my timing. The annual date of the Sakura Festival followed the progress of the blossoms, not the calendar. The weather would decide. If it remained cool for long enough, I might have another six weeks, perhaps as much as two months before Ansei would come.


    * * *


    The Princess would entrust me with no communication. She fell ill to a seasonal affliction herself, and for two weeks more I saw nothing of her. When at last I received word of her, it was written in her own hand, inviting me to come with her on a mineral bath retreat to aid her recovery.


    I prepared my very few belongings for a short mountain journey.


    On my next encounter with the Princess, she was stepping into a red lacquered palanquin chair, withdrawn and subdued, but not without a hint of color in her cheeks.


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    ¡°I will call you no more Fuyuko, but Orihime sama,¡± she said when I bowed low in greeting.


    ¡°Your Highness has seen the silk?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And it is even as you so boldly proclaimed, the loveliest kimono I have ever owned. Indeed, I have never seen anything half so lovely! It cheered me so much to see it. I believe it is the reason for my improved health. I couldn¡¯t have made even this short journey otherwise.¡±


    For her sake, I wished for this to be true. ¡°You will be in better health yet for the sake of a good mineral bath.¡±


    ¡°I expect I shall¡ªand you with me. You have never seen an imperial bathhouse, and this will be my treat to you, are you ready?¡±


    I answered her, yes.


    * * *


    Sturdy menservants bore us straight us the mountain side, the chilly morning breeze lifting our silken curtains and a strong sulfuric odor wafted through, announcing the proximity of the onsen baths.


    I sat in the sedan, pensive, reflecting upon the new name the Princess had given me. I remembered the legend.


    Orihime was a mythical weaver said to have woven the clothing of the Gods. The association with her ought to have been flattering to me, but it came a little too close to my heart. To me, even in her thwarted love affair, Orihime was enviable. After all, her lover was constant. I had believed Ansei faithful and had found him worse than false. He would use me for a purpose so repugnant; I could scarcely bear the thought of it.


    Distracted, I had had taken only vague notice of the Princess¡¯s affected cheerfulness toward me. Surely the silk had pleased her, but her lack of reserve seemed to belie the weight of recently past events. I didn¡¯t think long on this, however, but took in the mountain scenery and took what solace I could from it.

 The Baths

    The inn was small, furnished with both natural and man-made interior baths¡ªa good house, but more rustic than a princess would be used to, I thought. Even so, she didn¡¯t hesitate to make herself comfortable upon our arrival, inviting me to join her at the kotatsu.


    ¡°Does the Princess bathe here often?¡± I said, sinking into seiza.


    ¡°I have been here once or twice, I suppose. There are several more lavish houses closer to the city,¡± she averted her eyes, ¡°but this one is so secluded. For our purposes, it is very convenient.¡±


    I wondered what she meant by convenient. The term was almost always coded language. Convenient meant useful for a particular purpose as much as it meant simple or easy. To her unique meaning, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to probe, but had the impression that whatever she meant, the convenience was hers, and not mine.


    We rested briefly from the journey within rooms, took tea, and then padded outside in cotton bathing robes to a washing area. A rope pulley released a shower of mineral water to wash with before entering a shared bathing pool. I had never seen this kind of innovation before, and gasped in surprise and delight when the Princess demonstrated it, drenching herself in the process.


    We washed first, followed by the Princess¡¯s small entourage. All would follow her into pool and bathe as one party.


    The Princess waded into the foamy soup slowly, her bare skin as flawless as though dusted all over with powder. She turned around and around in the pool¡¯s rising vapor, exulting in the exotic mixture of warm and cool air currents.


    ¡°I confess, I didn¡¯t really wish to come today,¡± she said, while she settled into a shallow natural seat at the edge of the pool.


    I sank in the water. ¡°Indeed?¡±


    ¡°So, it is to be a woman¡ªeven a princess, you understand.¡±


    I didn¡¯t.


    ¡°We are but well treated servants, even the highest-ranking women must serve.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we are more powerful than you think,¡± I whispered.


    She turned on me a strange expression. ¡°Perhaps you are, but even the powerful must put their country before themselves if history is to give a good account of them.¡± This saying seemed to me a warning. She turned her eyes askance at the place where the spring spilled over a pile of moss-covered rocks and into the pool. ¡°Loneliness is its own kind of freedom. I understand your wishing it.¡± As she said this, I let my eyes drop, ashamed of the selfishness with which she charged me.


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    The Princess smiled sadly, and then drew her gaze to a focus on me. ¡°Why do you sink so low in the water, Orihime? Are you so shy?¡±


    I shut my eyes against her probing examination. I had suffered so many beatings across my neck and back. What ought to have been the most seductive area of my body meant only shame to me.


    ¡°You are lovely, Orihime.¡± She added, almost as an afterthought, though I knew better than to believe it, ¡°Your husband will be very happy.¡±


    My head snapped up and I stared¡ªyes, stared directly at the Princess in wordless challenge. She looked away first, eyes gleaming with emotion. But she knew, and I knew. In that moment, we both acknowledged her betrayal.


    I swallowed over a stiffened throat and adjusted to the realization that my time had already run out. With few words, the Princess had changed everything. And every inch of my being rejected it.


    Now Ansei would come. After all my watching and waiting, he would make his claim. He had known and foretold everything with the accuracy and foreknowledge of a prophet.


    How would I face him? What would I say? ¡°How long will it be before it happens?¡± I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.


    The Princess refused to meet my eyes. ¡°It has happened already.¡±


    * * *


    Human lives were bartered and exchanged over tea all the time¡ªlives more important lives than mine. I knew this. The Princess herself was an object of stratagem. And yet I resisted fatalism. I resisted objectification. All my life, I had survived upon a strength I hadn¡¯t fully understood. And my deadliest strength had emerged unbidden and protected me instinctively, chilling as this was to me. I didn¡¯t need to understand it for it to manifest.


    Knowing this, why should I be afraid of Ansei? He had intended to harness me for his own purposes, but he had always warned me of his having intentions I shouldn¡¯t trust. I doubted he could force my part in the revolution, and he probably had no intention of trying. Else why had he spoken of asking something dreadful? I knew his terror of me. Why should I fear him?


    I could say no. He might well expect it. I could stop Ansei. Perhaps I could stop an army.


    Once born, this idea seemed to vaporize and expand until it filled my whole body. As soon as it distilled, that I could examine it more closely, a new thought followed: what if I could stop powerful men¡ªand should I?


    True. The Okugawa Ruling House had done nothing for me; had given me no protection, no name, no privileges in society. If any had discovered my fraud in impersonating nobility, the reigning authority would have locked me away, or more probably, tortured and killed me. Would I defend this tyrant only to spite Ansei¡¯s revolution? I didn¡¯t know.


    Our party would return to the Eastern Capital the following evening, and then, I supposed they would send me to Western Capital. Perhaps Ansei would be there. I no longer thought of running. I wanted to confront him.


    By evening, trunks were packed and stowed and the party was preparing to depart, but for some reason, the Princess decided to delay and sent only a messenger ahead to the palace.


    ¡°I would do well with another night of spring mountain air at least,¡± she decided.


    Perhaps she read my thoughts on my face, because she cautioned me, ¡°I know you are angry with me, but I cannot begin to care about that now. When you have a powerful gift, it is your duty to use it to good purpose.¡±

 Duplicity

    Early in the morning, as the sun had begun to rise over the mountain, the Princess rose from her futon. ¡°I think we should have one last bath,¡± she suggested. ¡°But I am afraid you must go out ahead of me. I have some matters to attend to first,¡± she said, averting her eyes as she had begun to do with me so often.


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    I had learned to watch for such subtle signs of duplicity. They were always significant. But by now we were both following a script in our life-sized theater.


    And yet, all the while I waited within the outer pool, the water lapping my navel where I sat next to the falling spring water, I still believed the Princess was coming to join me.

 Continued

    When I saw his silhouette backlit by the morning sun, I started, involuntarily rising up out of the water.


    But no. I stopped, shrank back.


    This man was a stranger.


    ¡°Suddenly you¡¯re shy?¡± he said, obviously amused.


    ¡°I was expecting,¡± I hesitated, ¡°the Princess.¡±


    He laughed aloud.


    ¡°This will be the first time I have ever been mistaken for a princess.¡± He folded his hands behind his neck in a bold display of the obvious distinctions.


    ¡°I am very sorry. There is a misunderstanding. Her Highness will be waiting for me,¡± I moved to the edge of the pool, but he was already wading in.


    ¡°By now the Princess and her party are half way down the mountainside.¡±


    ¡°But she can¡¯t¡ªI have to¡­¡± I stumbled as I spoke.


    ¡°She¡¯s royalty. She can do whatever she wants, but I will confess to you now: we had an agreement.¡±


    ¡°What was your agreement?¡± I asked, scarcely daring the question.


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    ¡°It concerned you.¡±


    ¡°Please explain. No one has bothered to tell me the details of this arrangement.¡±


    ¡°What do you want to know?¡±


    ¡°Was it only a verbal agreement? Who gave it to you?¡±


    The Shogun¡¯s heir grinned. ¡°Agreements between Emperors and The Ruling House are always binding. You are mine now. We are wed.¡±


    I shivered. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± The surprise in his expression couldn¡¯t have been feigned.


    He lifted his chin. ¡°I am Shinichi Okugawa. First born of Akihiro.¡±


    I had imagined myself a weapon in the hands of revolutionaries, and accordingly, believed there would be some kind of a struggle with this very man. But Okugawa looked at me as his prize. Held me out as a possession harmless to him. He wouldn¡¯t know to defend himself. He would never have a chance.


    I stammered, ¡°You married a wife only recently.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°And you have the blessing of being my concubine.¡±


    I ought to have bowed. Reigi demanded it. I froze, though my mind calculated. Could I save him? I was not even sure I wanted to. Save him to become his concubine?


    He sensed my fear, but misunderstood it, believing my hesitation was due to maidenly modesty. It was much more than that.


    The Okugawa heir was so much younger than I had imagined¡ªhis face almost boyish. I could hardly imagine him at the head of his father¡¯s army.


    ¡°I see you are surprised, but you¡¯ll be very happy at Western Capital. I will deny you nothing.¡±


    It might be true. For the first time in my life I tasted the heady belief that the highest in the land really could and would give me almost anything I asked for.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Your Majesty,¡± I bit my lip, unsure how to act and reluctant to commit another killing. ¡°I¡¯m unworthy of this honor.¡±


    He frowned.


    ¡°Do you still fail to comprehend? You are the daughter of Orihime. I will raise you to your rightful throne on earth. No one will question your paternity when you arrive at court.¡± Then he reached for me with arms already stained red by the water¡¯s heat.


    This was the beginning of a long, drawn out assassination.

 Orihime

    I awakened as in times past, with a vivid recollection of what had happened up until a point, and then nothing. But that wasn¡¯t quite true. One or two additional details had pressed into my memory.


    I remembered heavy tears streaming from my eyes while he had kissed me with his open mouth; his voice at my ear whispering, Child of Orihime, your tears taste like salted wine. Then blackness, and the intermittent hacking of breathlessness and fear. He had died as the others had. Was he also poisoned? Then at last, I understood the source of my mysterious poison. It had come from my tears!


    I sat up and held my head. Perhaps more of my memory would return, but I recoiled with the thought of reliving the event.


    Instead, I closed my mind and glanced around the tiny room where I had slept. A tatami floor. A sulfuric odor. The roar of rushing water. Could I really still be at the mountain inn?


    I should be in prison. I should be exposed for my violence. They would torture me to death. Surely, I would be executed.


    The shoji door scraped along its track. I glanced up. A small servant girl carried tea in on a tray, set it on a kotatsu, then disappeared.


    I tasted the tea. It was tart with fermented cherry. When I lifted it again to my lips, I raised my eyes and caught a glimpse of a spider, crouching within the seam of the ceiling and the wall. I gave an involuntary start. Spiders rarely startled me, but something was different about this one. I spoke to it, as if in apology, ¡°You are welcome to any insects here.¡±


    It spun a hasty thread and traveled to its end, hovering close to my face. I stared at its mask of eyes for several seconds and never flinched until it spoke¡ªnot in words¡ªbut in language that seemed to translate directly into thoughts within my mind.


    ¡°Accept the truth of your nature.¡±


    My jaw slackened.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked, though, at once I knew: I had a kinship with this creature. And as I stared, stunned, the spider disappeared.


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    In her place stood a beautiful woman. Her willowy figure stood before me, a long coil of thick black hair covering her. I stared in awe, and even more strangely, recognition.


    She was the woman Ansei had sketched in his book and the same who had haunted my dreams!


    Finally, she spoke. ¡°Furi, you have a shadow of the Earth Kumo in your history. You carry our venom in your tears; our artistry in your fingers; our industry in your ethic. Be glad, for yours is a high purpose and a great calling. Keep your path. You have much to learn and to prepare for.¡±


    I exhaled sharply but I kept my nerve, even while my chest pounded and my lungs heaved. I had so much to ask her and would have begged her to explain, but in another instant, the woman disappeared, leaving nothing but her wisp of spider thread.


    The puzzle of my past expanded in my mind and folded tightly closed with this single revelatory piece. At last! In my mind¡¯s eye, I saw Master Nobu¡¯s dead brother, mother Ishiyama¡­the grotesque forms of the two thieves at Madame Ozawa¡¯s mill. The source of my poison, and a sensation of strange relief flooded my whole being. I began to shake, and then to cry.


    I didn¡¯t know how long I cried, but my pillow was soaked through with my toxic tears before I came again to full self-possession.


    The aroma of food called me to awareness of life outside of my own suffering. I was hungry.


    Soon, a different servant woman brought a tray and wordlessly set it on the table, and I arose from my futon, hardly believing I¡ªan assassin¡ªcould be treated so well.


    The tray bore a breakfast of salt fish and miso soup. I ate it all without ceremony, licking my fingers of the salty traces.


    Once again, the door slid again on its tracks, and the woman who brought my breakfast appeared.


    ¡°I¡¯ve come to change your bed clothes.¡±


    I lunged for the pillow.


    ¡°Please not this,¡± I said. ¡°Don¡¯t even touch it!¡±


    ¡°If that is your preference, My Lady.¡±


    My Lady? Why had she addressed me so politely? Could it be the Okugawa heir had survived? And supposing he had survived the venom in my tears, how long could his life persist, wed to an Earth Kumo?


    More time passed, and I grew anxious of information. Who was seeing to my care? Why did they stay hidden from me? Dared I go out to discover them?


    I wore nothing but the thin cotton bathing robe I had taken to the bath the morning prior. For all I knew, the Princess had packed my kimono off with my other belongings, and not knowing, didn¡¯t want to go out to confront my guards in only a thin robe.


    The moon had risen high in the sky before I heard the shoji door withdraw once more.


    I blinked, and then snapped upright, rigid.


    Ansei stood at the threshold.

 Ansei

    My breath caught, and for several moments, failed, while I met Ansei¡¯s steady, remorseless gaze.


    ¡°Furi.¡±


    I planted my feet on the tatami, but he closed the distance between us, a slight lilt in his head and a single raised eyebrow hinting his confusion.


    And well he might wonder at the difference between this and his former reception at the Nobu castle. I submitted to his gentle, if clinical physical examination, then he stepped back. His clear eyes betrayed something else. Regret?


    ¡°You¡¯re angry. Tell me why.¡±


    How many reasons did Ansei need? He had given me up bodily to Okugawa¡¯s heir only hours ago. He had delayed his coming almost beyond my endurance. Perhaps he still nursed a flame for his Princess lover. And still, I considered most, the risk I posed to him, and retreated another step.


    ¡°I am now a concubine of the throne, if my husband is surviving,¡± I said, my gaze resting on Ansei¡¯s bare feet.


    His expression veiled some mysterious emotion. Anger? Fear?


    ¡°He survives. I have examined him myself. But he is sleeping under the influence of an,¡± he paused to find words, ¡°unrecognized poison.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean¡ªunrecognized?¡±


    ¡°We will speak of it later. Right now, you should rest and recover your strength. When you are well, if you are you willing¡­¡± He paused again. ¡°We will talk more about his illness.¡±


    ¡°Not later. Now,¡± I said, surprising myself with the command in my voice. ¡°Tell me. Am I your prisoner?¡±


    His breath came sharp.


    ¡°How could you think that?¡±


    ¡°How can I not be a prisoner? I have poisoned the heir to the Ruling House throne. And you are no gardener, but a samurai, I would warrant. It¡¯s your duty to arrest and execute me, or betray your ruler.¡±


    Ansei sighed deeply, anguish plain upon his face.


    ¡°You are not a prisoner. I would protect you with my army and my own life, if necessary.¡±


    ¡°That necessity is not inconceivable,¡± I said, voice stiff.


    His eyes washed again with pain. ¡°


    There will be no violence.¡±


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    I lifted my chin?


    ¡°Who are you to make that prediction?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a ranking officer within a revolutionary army. A former conscript and traitor to the Ruling House, but this is not the betrayal you are holding against me. It¡¯s more personal than that. Am I right?¡±


    I opened my mouth to speak and my voice broke.


    ¡°How could you do it? How could you marry me into the Ruling House?¡±


    Ansei started.


    ¡°Did you ever consent to marriage?¡±


    ¡°The Sovereign said it was done!¡±


    ¡°The sovereign is on death¡¯s door. And he was well ahead of himself. You are not wed. I beg your forgiveness for allowing him so close to you¡ªthe Princess made other plans. This should never have happened, but, my army arrived in time to guard your safety.¡±


    I shuddered.


    ¡°But you would make me your weapon?¡±


    His face, already grim, creased and turned morose.


    ¡°I told you years ago that I could not give you your freedom, but that nothing could stop you from taking it. And now I ask: will you take it?¡±


    ¡°How?¡± I gasped. ¡°By becoming a concubine?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m talking about a rightful and honest position in a world you will help build yourself. Don¡¯t you want that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I understand what it is.¡±


    Ansei withdrew a clean handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me.


    ¡°I once promised to someday tell you all of my secrets.¡± He drew a quick breath. ¡°I hope you are ready to hear them now.¡±


    * * *


    ¡°I am Ansei Nagaishi of the Eastern Nagaishi Clan¡ªthe Spider Clan. For generations, we were a powerful resister of imperial control. The Nagaishi were the last to sign the Okugawa unification treaty when the Emperor fell.¡±


    ¡°We are known to our enemies as the Spider People for a former alliance with the Earth Kumo¡ªshape-shifting spider she-warriors who still occupy the peaks of the Yamato Mountain¡ªmere legends to you, but they are family to me. With our allies, we preserved our domain from imperial armies and invasion from rival clans for nearly four hundred years, but our alliance failed. Our chieftains honored a long-standing treaty, always remembering the shape-shifters¡¯ deadly threat to mankind and never trespassing into their cave dwelling realm.¡±


    ¡°But in the final year of the Warring Clan Period, a beautiful Earth Kumo lured Chieftain Toyo Nagaishi into her lair and poisoned him with her venom, destroying the Nagaishi¡¯s hope of defending their domain. On the eve of the Okugawa Clan¡¯s advancement inside our borders, my uncle dispatched a messenger, and conceded defeat.¡±


    ¡°It was the end of an era, and also the beginning¡ª¡± he paused to exhale a breath, but his gaze held mine. ¡°I was the product of the Earth Kumo and the chieftain¡¯s cave liaison. I am half Earth Kumo, half mortal.¡±


    I gasped. The beautiful she-spider who had appeared to me earlier was Ansei¡¯s mother!


    Ansei continued, ¡°All my life, the Nagaishi Clan has been carrying out an underground resistance to the Okugawa House. The time has come, and I must execute those plans.¡±


    ¡°War,¡± I repeated, and the word fell heavily from my lips.


    Ansei frowned.


    ¡°A bloodless revolution, and we have many powerful allies, including the Emperor and his family. If our plans succeed, the cost in lives will be very low, but the burden for this massive feat falls heavily upon a few shoulders.¡± Ansei cast his gaze down at the floor, then raised it to meet mine. ¡°You are the very center of our revolutionary offensive. Everything depends upon you.¡±


    I blinked confusion. ¡°I have already incapacitated your target. What more would you ask?¡±


    ¡°Do you remember when we spoke that night on Madame Ozawa¡¯s veranda? And I said someday I would make a request of you so great, I would have no right to expect you to honor it?¡±


    ¡°How could I forget? Then I thought I could answer you anything. Now, I understand your meaning.¡±


    ¡°You know a fraction.¡±


    Something inside of me recoiled. ¡°What more is there?¡±


    Ansei met my gaze.


    ¡°Will you give the New Otoppon an heir?¡±

 Nagaishi

    ¡°You want me to give Okugawa a child?¡± I asked, my voice breaking.


    ¡°This wouldn¡¯t be Okugawa¡¯s child.¡± Ansei paused, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, it was as though he had lifted a mask. ¡°The child would be mine.¡±


    The breath caught in my lungs, freezing with the mental image of myself nursing Ansei¡¯s baby.


    ¡°Our child will be the heir as long as Okugawa survives. And he will believe the child his own,¡± Ansei said.


    ¡°But it wouldn¡¯t be in the line of succession. He has a first wife.¡±


    ¡°She will not bear a child. Okugawa depends upon you for an heir and he knows it.¡±


    I trembled and my head reeled. Ansei closed his hands around my shaking fingers. ¡°You are free to choose.¡±


    ¡°He said I was already his.¡±


    ¡°The choice is yours.¡±


    ¡°It seems possible for him to doubt¡ª¡±


    ¡°He will have no interest in contesting his paternity of our child. Producing an heir is his most urgent business.¡±


    I had so many questions, but Ansei answered slowly, patiently as ever.


    ¡°Am I to live as his wife?¡±


    ¡°But briefly. In his illness; he won¡¯t threaten you. I don¡¯t believe he will long outlive the birth of the child.¡±


    I bit my lip. ¡°How can you possibly be sure he will die?¡±


    ¡°Before I followed you to the Ozawa mill, I served at Western Capital¡ªat court. I also studied with the Emperor¡¯s private physician. I¡¯m trained in clinical and theoretical medicine. My particular expertise is poison¡ªspecifically, yours. He will die.¡±


    I stared, but didn¡¯t doubt him. I had seen my poison kill. At last he disarmed me, question by question. And yet it wouldn¡¯t be enough. Ansei might answer everything else, but there remained one problem he could not resolve, and that was this:


    Ansei was at least half mortal. Male Earth Kumo never survived procreative acts. We would make love together, and soon thereafter, Ansei would die.


    We were silent, but for the rush of the river and our patient, deliberate breathing in and out. I had not forgotten Ansei¡¯s honesty with me. I would have been his at his asking years ago, but he hadn¡¯t been willing to deceive me that far. He wanted me to choose this. And what choice was it really? Could I truly walk away from him and be free? I could hardly breathe through this thought. And yet I asked it, ¡°You will let me go if I chose to leave?¡±


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    Ansei¡¯s mouth hardened. ¡°On my honor, I would let you go, though it would frustrate more than a decade of planning, the underpinnings of the entire revolution, and,¡± he paused here to swallow. ¡°And wound me, personally, more than I can say.¡±


    I scoffed.


    ¡°I had better wound you than kill you.¡±


    ¡°I had much rather die than let you give up on me now.¡±


    ¡°How can you say that?¡±


    ¡°I never expected to--¡± his face flushed. ¡°I can¡¯t say it.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t. There¡¯s no need. I could never¡ª¡±


    Ansei opened his mouth as if to continue, but his words wouldn¡¯t come, and when at last they did come, they came brokenly.


    ¡°Furi¡ªthere¡¯s a language. A language only our bones know.¡±


    He took a tiny step nearer and I frowned a warning.


    ¡°When you come close enough¡ªlisten hard enough, my bones will speak to yours.¡±


    My lips parted in mute disbelief.


    ¡°You won¡¯t understand the language in your mind, but you will in the soft hollows of your bones.¡±


    His hand found my shoulders, his fingertips, trembled across the line of my collar bone.


    ¡°You will know the sum of my life. Its beginnings and its ends. You¡¯ll feel your own place there, and how, if you don¡¯t hear¡ªif you don¡¯t answer back again, in only that language, you¡¯ll have let my life fall away wasted.¡±


    His words and touch on my skin worked a hypnotic effect. My collar bones burned under his fingers. I did not know how I resisted, but I wrenched free.


    Ansei sighed and cast his gaze to the window.


    ¡°Furi. At least let me tell you about your past¡ªabout your father and mother.¡±


    This, I wished very much to hear, and I knelt at the kotatsu.


    He knelt beside me and began, ¡°You were raised by low people. They despised themselves and taught you to do the same.¡±


    ¡°I suppose the Ishiyamas did. What bearing does that have?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m explaining why you won¡¯t believe what I¡¯m about to say.¡±


    ¡°What will you say? My mother is the moon?¡±


    ¡°It is not far from the truth. Remember the Princess¡¯s name for you?¡±


    ¡°Orihime?¡±


    ¡°Orihime is your mother, The Weaver of the Gods.¡±


    I closed my eyes.


    ¡°If you cannot accept that, you should also reject the explanation of my parentage.¡±


    And with those words, he pinned me with my own hypocrisy. I had believed him a god¡ªat the very least, an immortal. My breathing came sharp, but I replied in a wordless answer into his mind.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Orihime had many daughters, but all of them were different. You, in particular, are most unique. Near the time of your conception, your father and mother had enemies¡ªgods, jealous of their love. These combined to thwart your parents¡¯ already rare meetings by sending floods of rain on the seventh lunar month. This went on for some time, and your mother began to despair. In her desperation, she made an ally of The Earth Kumo, who for their part, had no prior access to the Skies.


    ¡°Orihime gave you to my mother, to be your godmother, and blessed you with her defenses. She made you the only of Orihime¡¯s daughters to carry a few of my mother¡¯s traits. Your mother never regretted the poison for your sake. She knew you would become a magnificent weaver and change the power balance in the immortal realm.¡±


    It was a strange tale, and yet not strange. Acceptance washed a flood of emotions to the surface.


    ¡°That is how you became the Nagaishi Clan¡¯s hope, but also a crucial ally to the Earth Kumo¡ªif you accept.¡± He paused without a breath. ¡°I¡¯ve spent my life waiting for this¡ªfor you.¡±


    ¡°And that history somehow negates all the harm I will do to you?¡±


    ¡°It animates that harm with purpose. It gives me hope for another home where we can meet again.¡±


    I turned my face away from him.


    ¡°I can¡¯t listen to you, sitting here, persuading me to kill you.¡±

 The Plan

    I knew neither how to refuse Ansei, nor how to accept him. Both choices were unthinkable. I would not destroy him, and yet I could not force myself to do the right thing, and walk away forever.


    We wasted eighteen hours debating the consequences of our union while the Okugawa heir lay upon his futon in a stupor. He would not awaken without the help of an antidote Ansei had developed, and the remedy would not cure him. It would merely prolong his broken life. The only agreement we could come to was more delay.


    ¡°You have a partial antidote. Couldn¡¯t you improve it?¡±


    ¡°Furi, you may not think I care to preserve a life with you, but I do. I have spent every spare moment of my past trying to develop a complete antidote. All my efforts have failed. I don¡¯t think it can be done.¡±


    I remembered Ansei¡¯s experimental journals and recognized their significance.


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    ¡°But you haven¡¯t given up.¡± I said, voice rising.


    ¡°No. But to be honest, I believe further pursuit of a cure would waste valuable time and distract us from what is most important.¡±


    I gasped in disbelief.


    ¡°What could be more important than saving your life?¡±


    ¡°Furi, you are an immortal. And I will only die once. Time only, keeps us apart. We will always return to one another in the Skies. Your parents do the same.¡± Besides this,¡± he added hesitantly, ¡°an extraordinary child¡¯s life is at stake.¡±


    ¡°But we might grow our space for happiness. We might raise our child together.¡±


    ¡°We all fall to the demands of Nature, Furi.¡±


    ¡°Nature¡¯s demands are cruel.¡±


    ¡°Not cruel. Bold. Remorseless. But its extremes are beautiful.¡±


    ¡°If our roles were reversed, would you be so ready to take my life?¡±


    He conceded the point.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know that I would be able to do it at all. And I will not force you, but don¡¯t imagine to yourself that I will give up easily.¡± Ansei set his jaw and his eyes lit like burning coals. ¡°I¡¯ll use every device I can think of, every last seduction, whatever strategy I can think of, to persuade you.¡±

 Impasse

    We did the only thing we could agree to do. I would not marry Ansei with the obligations of a traditional wife, but we contracted a union with vows I believed I could honestly keep, Ansei taking my name. I had been so long the subject of so much strategizing; I wished not to be acted upon, but to act myself. And so I negotiated my own terms. What I asked was trifling, really, and Ansei accepted all with characteristic patience.


    * * *


    The inn¡¯s mistress approached hesitantly, the silk obi trembling in her hands.


    ¡°I can manage my own kitsuke without help,¡± I said, excusing her to leave. ¡°You needn¡¯t endanger your life for a frivolity.¡±


    She left me, rather hastily, to finish dressing by myself.


    I could handle a simple knot of the obi without help, tying it first in front, and then slipping the knot around behind. I wanted to look well for Ansei, but I knew a gorgeous kitsuke was unnecessary adornment. He didn¡¯t care so much to have a splendid bride. We agreed that our marriage rite would be spare, simple, but¡ªAnsei insisted¡ªlegal.


    I thought legality a strange insistence, considering our sedition, but Ansei believed time and justice would ratify his treason. I didn¡¯t know, but I had hoped for audacious things before, and I had not stopped hoping.


    When I finished dressing, I stepped outside where Ansei waited.


    We would have only the inn¡¯s master, himself a professed revolutionary, for a witness, rather than implicate anyone new to our treason. An Otopponese priest performed the breif rite. And thus, we were united in a ceremony we did not quite understand, making vows not quite matrimonial.


    The owners of the inn were sympathizers, and invited us to remain at the inn as we liked, but I had agreed to be with Ansei on the understanding that he would develop an anti-venom. I wouldn¡¯t go near him without it. Staying at the inn was choosing impasse.


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    * * *


    ¡°Do you remember the night we first talked under the eaves?¡± I asked Ansei that evening, before we departed from the inn.


    Ansei inclined toward me at the kotatsu, his mouth pulling into a shy smile.


    ¡°You nearly knocked me off the veranda; I was so surprised to find you there watching me.¡±


    ¡°That seems fair, considering how much the roles were reversed.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t argue.¡±


    ¡°You talked about my parents¡¯ love story.¡±


    ¡°Ahh,¡± he sighed. ¡°The records.¡±


    ¡°How far is the journey?¡±


    His brow creased. ¡°A fair distance. The region is mountainous. And dangerous.¡±


    I paused, waiting to see if he would offer.


    ¡°You want to go.¡±


    I averted my eyes because I knew he would not like the idea, and I couldn¡¯t deny my opposite wish.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it best to risk our lives for the records now. And the journey would only delay my resuming work on the anti-venom.¡±


    I nodded agreement with this. The antidote to my poison was all-important.


    * * *


    Ansei had leased a house outside of Western Capital, connected to an adjacent apothecary.


    The house was nothing¡ªa small, spare cottage with very little space. But the garden, even in its wild, overgrown state, was paradise. Ansei and I spent happy hours working there together. As long as we worked, we preserved a smooth veneer of contentment, but it was a shallow peace. Any relaxation¡ªany rest at all¡ªbrought us continually into conflict.


    Argument with Ansei was dangerous, because it aroused my passion. I would not let him anger me into love making, so I began to avoid him.


    Ansei remained patient, even hopeful. He often returned from bathing at the spring alone, chest gleaming, subtle fragrance of sandalwood oil wafting about him, and looking every inch the immortal I had always believed him to be¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t.


    Eventually, however, I saw little of him. He threw himself to work in the apothecary, working through much of the night and then curling up in a corner of the shop on a thin futon mat.


    He gave me the only bedroom in the tiny house, a simple room with a tatami floor and shoji doors. Several cabinets lined one wall. One was sufficient to store everything I had to my name, but he offered me all, except one.


    ¡°This one is my private cupboard,¡± he had said, gesturing to a small cabinet. ¡°I would keep it private, but it has no key, and I would rather trust you than lock it up.¡±


    ¡°I have few possessions. I see no reason to invade your private storage.¡±


    I said this, and meant it, but the promise was rash.

 Patience

    Patience is not always the virtue we credit it for. Nor restraint. This, I had exercised over a lifetime of pain, and I was proud of how well I could thwart nature to keep Ansei safe from me. I was always learning, however, that life was not safe, and could not be made so.


    It was late in the afternoon and I believed I was alone in the garden. The fruit trees were ripening and I sampled the flesh of a white peach. While wandering in the shade of a row of young maples, I almost stumbled over Ansei, who lied stretched out, and sleeping in its shade.


    He had probably not slept at all during the previous night; he looked so weary¡ªexhausted with the impossible work I had given him.


    On impulse, I stooped to kiss him on the cheek. But before I could rise, his eyelids flashed and his hands fastened to my navel.


    ¡°I almost thought you were a dream,¡± he whispered.


    I jerked away, a little too hard.


    ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to wake you.¡±


    His hands released me at once and I stepped backward.


    Provoked, he rose to his feet and closed the distance between us again. Pulling me in, he whispered, ¡°Furi. I¡¯ve been waiting for you since we were children.¡±


    Unbidden images surfaced in my mind, both strange and familiar. At once, I realized Ansei had planted them there: a doe-eyed boy, standing at the edge of the Ishiyama farm. Me, sitting beneath the eaves, eating that strange apple Ansei had given me. The sting of pine salve upon my damaged neck. Ansei¡¯s voice in my ear pleading for me to wait.


    Ansei would willingly perish only to love me. I couldn¡¯t rationalize any selfish motive. He couldn¡¯t secure a high position in a post-revolutionary Otoppon¡ªhe would never live to accept the rank, nor any other benefit in exchange for his valor.


    Resisting, I whispered back, ¡°I cannot be the cause of your death, Ansei.¡±


    ¡°Should I cling to my own life and not give way for a child?¡±


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    ¡°How will I stand it when you are gone, and at my own hands?¡±


    ¡°You will destroy me all the same, and waste my life in the end.¡±


    So few months ago, our hearts had been stars, aligned across a universe of space. Now, beating inches apart, they were mere flesh organs, dissonant pumps without hope of agreement.


    It was several minutes of impasse before he released me, and went away over a pathway into the woods.


    I didn¡¯t see Ansei again that evening, nor at all the following day. I wondered if he had finally left me, and I couldn¡¯t blame him.


    However, by the third morning of his absence, my anxiety for him was steadily climbing. I couldn¡¯t sit and sew, work in the garden, or even eat or drink. By mid-day, I had invaded his apothecary, searching for clues of his whereabouts. I searched thoroughly and found nothing.


    Failing everything, I knelt down on the tatami floor in the bedroom to think of where else I might look. I had searched everywhere within the house, the garden and apothecary. I might go farther afield in search of him, but if he had fled any distance, I was unlikely to find him. He may have changed into his spider form, in which case, I would never see him.


    Only then did it occur to me to try Ansei¡¯s cabinet. I had promised him privacy, but he had been gone so long. And he might return to his army. He might have given up and resigned himself to a war of violence. What use would honoring his privacy be then?


    I stood in front of the old, rosewood cupboard, my heart beating in my tightened throat. I tried the latch. Against my expectations, the door swung swiftly open on a well-oiled hinge. I peered inside and flinched in surprise. Only one garment hung on a small hook within, and it was not Ansei¡¯s.


    It was almost certainly of his making, however, and I lifted it out gently to examine it in the light. The sun caught its fibers and shone through them, throwing a kaleidoscope of iridescence against the wall. The technique was exquisite, the most delicate weave I had ever seen, and must have taken many days to accomplish, but a close study did not reveal how he had achieved its effect. I smiled in creative curiosity and wonder. Forgetting myself completely, slipped out of my robe to try it on.


    The gown opened at the side. Adjusting it slightly, the closure fused sleekly together until it hugged me like a second skin. I ventured a peek at the glass, then froze. I had never before seen the woman staring back at me then.


    For the first time since discovering my mother¡¯s identity, I felt what it was to be Orihime¡¯s daughter. I flushed at my reflection, but one glance was already too much. I sank to the floor, curled into fetal position, and ached for Ansei to the point of physical pain.


    The spasm passed, however, and I recovered enough to recollect myself. I had to get out of the gown.


    I had thought I could simply pull the opening apart again, but when I tugged at it, I found that the webbed fibers had fused snugly closed. The tiny fibers were deceptively strong. I could not get out of them. I tugged harder, but had no heart to tear Ansei¡¯s work.


    I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do it.

 Caught

    I paced the floor, up and down, anxious that Ansei would not return, frantic that he would, and to find me, a moth, caught in his web¡ªguilty of having violated the only request for privacy he had ever made of me. Perhaps he had always known I would break that promise. If this had been a deliberate trap, it was excellently laid, and what did I expect, having fallen in love the son of an Earth Kumo?


    Gradually, I slowed my restless legs and watched my breath in practiced relaxation. After all, I was caught, and what was the use of worrying now? What spider laid a trap and never returned to check it? Ansei would be back.


    * * *


    He met me where I waited for him at the genkan, and froze at the sight of me. He stood so still, I detected the subtle escalation of his breath, and the fear, dilating his eyes.


    I lifted my chin, fighting for dignity I didn¡¯t feel.


    ¡°Was this what you meant by every seduction?¡±


    He betrayed a sly smile.


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    ¡°It wasn¡¯t quite fair; I admit. And some day, far in the future, I might be capable of feeling shame for having resorted to it.¡±


    ¡°Seeing your work, I was hypnotized, and I had to try it on.¡±


    He shook his head slightly. ¡°I can sympathize with the feeling. I must say; I wove a good fit, didn¡¯t I?¡± He stepped up from the genkan, eyes never deviating a fraction.


    ¡°You made it strong. I cannot get out of it.¡± I said, tugging at the seam.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t meant to be easy,¡± he paused, ¡°¡­even with help.¡± Then he stopped short of me. Again, waiting for me to nod.


    And what would a cornered moth say? ¡°I am your prey,¡± I made this concession, but not without bitterness, and it disarmed Ansei entirely.


    At last, he averted his gaze. When he spoke, the warmth was gone. ¡°We have one chance. I won¡¯t spend it this way.¡±


    A tremor ran through my chest and I groaned, ¡°I don¡¯t know how to navigate this path.¡±


    ¡°It was my mistake. I will free you, but I am afraid it will take a little time, and it will be difficult for both of us.¡±


    * * *


    I didn¡¯t know which of us suffered more during the gown¡¯s removal. Every touch of his hands enflamed me like a hot iron. I could not have refused him. Nay, I may have begged him to love me then, but having once acknowledged the trap unfair, he would not look at me, and when I chanced to catch his gaze, his eyes were dead.


    Ansei took his revenge on what remained of his masterpiece next morning, swallowing the fibers in a porridge of rice. I remained closed indoors, crying the floods I had forced back during the night.

 Leaving

    When I had cried my last, I rose from my futon and stared at the glass, eyes swollen and skin raw.


    I was a coward, and could not stand the thought of facing Ansei. I would snap into pieces without relief from the tension pulling me to two irreconcilable ends. Nor could Ansei endure our stalemate much longer.


    After all the years of waiting, he would leave at last. He could not bear up forever. He would go away to fight a revolution robbed of its bloodless solution.


    We met in the garden. His gaze caught mine, and I shivered. I sensed every vibration, read every thought as though it traveled across an invisible thread stretching taut between us. He read me similarly, and although it forged a mutual sympathy, it couldn¡¯t meld us together.


    His mouth opened as though to speak, but he couldn¡¯t utter the words, and instead they flooded into my mind.


    ¡°I am going.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°To my uncle.¡±


    A tremor ran from my fingers to my toes. My knees buckled.


    ¡°Not to war!¡±


    Ansei¡¯s gaze dropped to the ground. ¡°I don¡¯t know what will remain of the revolution. Perhaps there will be a blood war, but perhaps not. Either way, I¡¯ll report tomorrow.¡±


    Tears stung my eyes, and I was forced to hide from him again until I could control the poisonous flood.


    I crouched in the closet, folding into a tight fetal position, uprooted and adrift from convictions I had thought inalterable. At last, I asked myself which was better: loving Ansei and destroying him with venom, or banishing him to near certain death within a violent revolution.


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    At length, I began to see that neither question was rational. I might as easily have asked whether it was better to suppress the life I might give in favor of the life I wanted to cling to. No answer would appear along this two-dimensional line.


    I might fight forever between two points on a plane, each end pulling with equivalent force, until at last I understood that the solution must reach upward and outside, into a third dimension¡ªneither to moralize nor to rationalize, but to become¡ªto become the creature greater gods had envisioned me to be.


    It was not enough to consult what my heart wanted. I had a spirit, a mind, and a spider¡¯s nature as well. I struggled with all of them to see the creature I might be, and had never known.


    I struggled hard, and yet failed. Confused and weary, I fell asleep and dreamt of an old woman whom I somehow knew, but couldn¡¯t quite place in memory. She spoke to me with effort, her throat arid and her voice breathy. ¡°I need a subject. Give me a subject.¡± Her hands reached as her glassy eyes stared. Cold, bony fingers found my hair, my shoulders.


    She was blind.


    An ancient loom occupied half of the room. I realized that she wanted an image to weave into a fabric. ¡°It is my final weaving. My last before I die. I must weave it before I can rest.¡±


    I offered her various physical objects for her to examine with her hands, but she cast them all away with contempt. Impatiently, I brought her half-withered hands to mine, and guided them over my face, over my hair and neck, across my collarbone and down the length of my arms. When she was finished, having examined me from head to toe, she sighedand turned away contented.


    When I awakened again, I realized with a blink what the dream had meant for me. I needed a model. And at last I understood where I might look.


    * * *


    I found Ansei in the apothecary, packing up his collection of herbs.


    ¡°I will not forbid you to leave me, but I want to ask you to delay a little while.¡±


    The light caught his eyes and I perceived his desperation for any excuse, any compromise by which he might justify staying.


    ¡°Tell me what you want.¡±


    I drew a quick breath.


    ¡°Take me to the records.¡±

 Ancestral Home

    When I had cried my last, I rose from my futon and stared at the glass, eyes swollen and skin raw.


    I was a coward, and could not stand the thought of facing Ansei. I would snap into pieces without relief from the tension pulling me to two irreconcilable ends. Nor could Ansei endure our stalemate much longer.


    After all the years of waiting, he would leave at last. He could not bear up forever. He would go away to fight a revolution robbed of its bloodless solution.


    We met in the garden. His gaze caught mine, and I shivered. I sensed every vibration, read every thought as though it traveled across an invisible thread stretching taut between us. He read me similarly, and although it forged a mutual sympathy, it couldn¡¯t meld us together.


    His mouth opened as though to speak, but he couldn¡¯t utter the words, and instead they flooded into my mind.


    ¡°I am going.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°To my uncle.¡±


    A tremor ran from my fingers to my toes. My knees buckled.


    ¡°Not to war!¡±


    Ansei¡¯s gaze dropped to the ground. ¡°I don¡¯t know what will remain of the revolution. Perhaps there will be a blood war, but perhaps not. Either way, I¡¯ll report tomorrow.¡±


    Tears stung my eyes, and I was forced to hide from him again until I could control the poisonous flood.


    I crouched in the closet, folding into a tight fetal position, uprooted and adrift from convictions I had thought inalterable. At last, I asked myself which was better: loving Ansei and destroying him with venom, or banishing him to near certain death within a violent revolution.


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    At length, I began to see that neither question was rational. I might as easily have asked whether it was better to suppress the life I might give in favor of the life I wanted to cling to. No answer would appear along this two-dimensional line.


    I might fight forever between two points on a plane, each end pulling with equivalent force, until at last I understood that the solution must reach upward and outside, into a third dimension¡ªneither to moralize nor to rationalize, but to become¡ªto become the creature greater gods had envisioned me to be.


    It was not enough to consult what my heart wanted. I had a spirit, a mind, and a spider¡¯s nature as well. I struggled with all of them to see the creature I might be, and had never known.


    I struggled hard, and yet failed. Confused and weary, I fell asleep and dreamt of an old woman whom I somehow knew, but couldn¡¯t quite place in memory. She spoke to me with effort, her throat arid and her voice breathy. ¡°I need a subject. Give me a subject.¡± Her hands reached as her glassy eyes stared. Cold, bony fingers found my hair, my shoulders.


    She was blind.


    An ancient loom occupied half of the room. I realized that she wanted an image to weave into a fabric. ¡°It is my final weaving. My last before I die. I must weave it before I can rest.¡±


    I offered her various physical objects for her to examine with her hands, but she cast them all away with contempt. Impatiently, I brought her half-withered hands to mine, and guided them over my face, over my hair and neck, across my collarbone and down the length of my arms. When she was finished, having examined me from head to toe, she sighedand turned away contented.


    When I awakened again, I realized with a blink what the dream had meant for me. I needed a model. And at last I understood where I might look.


    * * *


    I found Ansei in the apothecary, packing up his collection of herbs.


    ¡°I will not forbid you to leave me, but I want to ask you to delay a little while.¡±


    The light caught his eyes and I perceived his desperation for any excuse, any compromise by which he might justify staying.


    ¡°Tell me what you want.¡±


    I drew a quick breath.


    ¡°Take me to the records.¡±

 Haunted

    With one blink, I perceived I had awakened alone. Ansei had risen before me and seemed to have disappeared. I lifted my head and suppressed a groan. Every muscle protested as I tried to stand. I scanned the clearing. All was still.


    I found the moon, and judged the night to be half spent. This surprised me. It meant I had slept an hour beyond my typical sleep interval, having done so soundly, and so exposed to night predators.


    Ansei must have risen to scout the trail. I removed my flask from my trouser pocket and took a long pull of the cold water, then replaced it and limped my way gingerly up the trail to find Ansei.


    At a distance beyond where I would have expected to find Ansei, I spied a figure in a pale robe crouched beside the trail. It could only be Ansei, and so I went on. When I drew nearer, I realized my mistake. It was not Ansei, but a strange young woman, clutching a small baby in her arms.


    I didn¡¯t stop to consider the rationality of what I saw. The woman trembled; her shoulders hunched, apparently overcome with emotion. She needed my help.


    ¡°What are you doing out here alone?¡± I asked through labored breaths.


    The woman hung her head, mute, but she lifted her baby to me to take the bundle. I responded reflexively, reaching for the child and cradling it with both arms, but as I did so, the wrap parted and I started.


    A nest of tiny spiders crawled from beneath the wrapping.


    The crying woman was a jorogumo!


    I gave a cry and the jorogumo seized me by the shoulders, shaking me roughly in her enormous hands and shrieking in my ears.


    Then all at once she faded to Ansei¡¯s hands, and Ansei¡¯s voice calling my name. I shook my head from the fog that had enveloped it to the awareness of deep darkness.


    ¡°Furi! Wake up!¡± Ansei pulled me to standing.


    I struggled to regain my bearings. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°You were walking in your sleep. You returned to the forest.¡±


    I gasped, ¡°I saw a strange woman!¡±


    ¡°She was a jorogumo, luring you away.¡±


    I trembled. ¡°It was so real!¡±


    ¡°Deadly real,¡± Ansei shuddered. ¡°Can you run?¡±


    I ran ahead of Ansei. This time, when we finally passed through the arc of the thinning trees, we didn¡¯t stop. We pressed upward over the mountain pass.


    Adrenalin and the haunting image of the woman¡¯s infant nest in my arms goaded me upward, against wind and protesting muscles. And when my strength slackened, Ansei unburdened me of my bedroll. When I could go no farther, he lifted me onto his back and carried me bodily up the mountain.


    * * *


    A day and a night passed before we ascended the height of the pass. Then Ansei left the trail.


    ¡°We¡¯re not far away now. You cannot see the cave from here, but it lies behind that bulge in the rock face. Do you think you can make it?¡±


    Breathing hard, I couldn¡¯t answer audibly, but I began my way up the rock face, determined to make the attempt.


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    Ansei¡¯s jaw hardened. ¡°My people are climbers, but your people are not. Let me carry you.¡±


    ¡°I can make it,¡± I insisted. ¡°Let me try.¡±


    Ansei relented. He had to. Carrying another person up so sheer a climb was near impossible, even for him. He must have known it. I followed him upward on the volcanic rock face, craggy with holds that ripped and scraped my skin even as I braced my grateful weight atop them.


    Slowly, I forced my body up to a bulge in the rock, but my muscles trembled and melted into throbbing deadweight. No matter how I willed them, they refused to continue. I was so weakened, I could go no further.


    Ansei climbed up ahead of me and I waited, breathless and exhausted, until he lowered a knotted section of rope.


    Near the top, Ansei gripped my sweat-bathed arm by the wrist and, not slipping an increment, pulled me safely up and over the rock bulge. I collapsed against him, mouth parted and chest heaving. His arm encircled my shoulders and I shifted upward a half inch to rest snugly against his chest.


    There we rested, Ansei cradling me in his arm with an ease belying the mortal danger I meant to him. Yet, I had no illusions. His breathing should have gradually relaxed.


    It escalated. I could hear the pulse of his heart racing in his chest against my ear. He bent his head. Slow. Patient. Determined¡ªa perfect mask of the torment he must have felt. I pressed my palm over his heart, wishing to slow it¡ªfearful it might burst for pressure and speed.


    Still, he closed his mouth over mine in not only a kiss, but I think, the the extraction of a promise. So help me, I yielded it without knowing how I could follow through.


    * * *


    I had never seen a cave made civilized before. The mouth of the cave opened wide and welcoming, flanked by a heavy wooden door, stabilized by a groove cut along the threshold. The door was ornamented with a skillful carving of a river landscape.


    When Ansei had made a small fire and had lit a torch at the cave¡¯s mouth, we ventured within. Following the orb of light, I gasped at the refinement all around me. The cave revealed domestic comforts of every kind. Tatami covered rooms. Shelves and tables of stone. A water basin. A proper kitchen. Someone had perfected the ventilation by means of thin grooves cut into the rock. I could not fathom the patience and skill it had taken to accomplish this, and stared at the industry in wonder. But I didn¡¯t know what was coming.


    We crept through a narrow tunnel that opened up into a broad natural cavern. I gasped as the torch¡¯s glow cut the darkness, and the cavern shimmered in glittering reply. The walls throughout the vast expanse were jeweled with crystals. Amethyst. Gypsum. Quartz. I couldn¡¯t identify all the minerals glittering under the low glow of the torchlight.


    Fitted between the stones, on shelves, stood volume upon volume of hand-bound histories.


    ¡°This is the library?¡± I could scarcely catch my breath for surprise. I pointed to a column of shelves. ¡°The histories are set into the wall between the mineral deposits.¡±


    Ansei lifted the lamp to examine the spines of the histories. The copies dated back several thousand years from our time.


    I reached and pulled a book from the shelf. ¡°Look at it,¡± I said, and hugged the volume to my body. (It was too heavy for me to hold it any other way.)


    ¡°All true,¡± Ansei whispered, ¡°Within this cavern we had no politics to offend. No ideologies demanding compliance. The great indulgence of a secret library is perfect honesty. You will never read anything less guarded.¡±


    I caressed the spine of the book. ¡°Where are my mother and fathers'' journals?¡±


    ¡°They were more recent than these,¡± Ansei said, examining the shelves. ¡°It may take some looking.¡±


    Most of the spines were neatly labeled with ancient characters, but Ansei was the more literate between us. He found the volume, even while I stood awestruck by the sheer sight of the cavern¡ªmind reaching to understand the magnificent creative genius that had come to bear in creating the place.


    ¡°I could never have imagined a place like this.¡±


    Ansei let his gaze drop. ¡°I should have brought you long ago.¡±


    ¡°Yes. But you have at last. Thank you.¡±


    He wordlessly reached for the volume and surrendered it to me.


    I shook my head. ¡°Read my father¡¯s account to me.¡±


    * * *


    Ansei read to me, but when the sun set, I sent him ahead of me to sleep, and I stayed up much of the night, reading slowly through my father¡¯s account.


    It was an emotional journey, pouring over those pages. Sometimes it broke my heart to know my father¡¯s suffering, but near the end, I understood that suffering was only one thread that wove through all of his experience. Only love was unique. And it was this strange love, and not the familiar pain of his experience, which motivated his choice to be with my mother. I could detect no hint of regret, though the ultimate cost was dear.


    My mother had given up her position among immortals. And she had borne much of the burden of her choice. Would she feel the same?

 Decision

    I was used to Ansei¡¯s half spent nights of sleep. They were much like my own. But during our journey, my exhaustion couldn¡¯t be overcome with a short three-or-four-hour sleep. I rose late morning to find without surprise the bed beside mine abandoned. It was just as well. I wanted privacy for the next few hours at least.


    In the dark of the crystal chamber, I rose on the balls of my feet and dragged my fingers across the spines of the volumes, searching by feel. My mother¡¯s volume was covered in sheep¡¯s skin. Impossible to mistake. I brought it back to the mouth of the cave, hugging the soft cover to my chest.


    At the mouth of the cave, I sat lotus style and opened the leaves to read by the light of the new day¡¯s sun.


    I had not known whether I would even be able to decipher her hand-written calligraphy, but from my first glance at the page, my mind opened up wide, and I comprehended the characters with decision and speed I had never possessed before. Whole passages leapt from the page, transformed from cold characters into images: visions of my mother, her warm beating heart, and her brave, albeit willful decision. I stared, captivated by the pages before me for hours.


    This woman was my own mother?


    Yes. A soft voice spoke from somewhere deep inside of me. The voice resounded distinct, separate, and yet indivisible from my own person, and I couldn¡¯t suppress the instinct that my mother was near me, watching with interest.


    Finally, I turned the last page and the leaf came loose in my hand. I stared at its clean, fresh, rice paper face and realized it was an insert, added much later than the account I had recently finished. The calligraphy was identical to my mother¡¯s own hand. I read:


    Dearest Furi:


    How I love you and long for your success and happiness. If you read this, I hope you will understand and forgive me for surrendering you to a life of such sorrow. One day I will amend this hardship, but you must come to me.


    I do not wish to interfere with your choices any more than is absolutely vital for you and our line, but I feel I must inject this briefest instruction now.


    Do not unite with the Earth Kumo. This union will give the Kumo access to the immortal Skies, a passage they have long desired and has been rightly denied them.


    I trust you will feel the justice in this and follow my instructions.


    She signed this script, your devoted mother, Orihime.


    I stared at the text, my breath coming rapid and shallow as I read and reread¡ªtrying to understand what this meant. For some moments, I gazed into the bright light of day, confused by the meaning of my mother¡¯s message.


    With effort, I heaved the breath I had been holding too long in my lungs and let the truth settle where it fell like beads of red dye upon the face of a pure white fabric.


    My mother forbade me to love Ansei? And this because she did not want to give the Earth Kumo access to the Heavens?


    I didn¡¯t know how long I sat, turning this instruction over in my head, but during that time, something shifted.


    A new pattern rose up, and the problem I confronted took on an added dimension. My notions of betrayal altered, opened up in a new way of thinking. My mother¡¯s letter forced it upon me. I had never given my immortal life the weight she gave it. She had left me alone from infancy, never interfering in my earthly life once. The immortal realm was all she thought of. Why? Was time really so brief?


    The range of immortality was a difficult concept for me to understand, but I had to try to conceive of it its enormous breadth. Was a mortal experience nothing¡­ ?


    Would a child with Ansei cement his standing in new worlds? Forever?


    Though I had given our immortality almost no thought, my mother was the opposite. Eternity was her every demand. It was the thing she wished to foreclose against all contingencies. She did not want an Earth Kumo son.


    Anger burned in my core forever.


    I did not care that my mother had forbidden this. I had proved Ansei in every way and I could scarcely bear to look at the rejection my mother¡¯s letter meant to me, and to Ansei.


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    And yet I did look at it. I read it again and again, and could not reconcile it with my mother¡¯s own record. Did she realize what she asked of me? How could she fail to empathize? Especially when considering her own mortal choice in a husband!


    I hated it, but I forced myself to consider whether I could abide my mother¡¯s instruction. Could I save Ansei¡¯s mortal life and deny him eternity? I could not do that.


    * * *


    In the end, the way did open up for me¡ªnot as I had hoped, or anticipated, but I knew what I would do.


    I prepared without haste. Of what would follow, I had only the vaguest idea. I supposed I would have a child; bring it to Western Capital and pass it off as an heir to the throne.


    I didn¡¯t know what it would cost to give life this way. How did the children of Vega and Altair pass to the Heavens? Would I simply transcend, or would what was arachnid inside of me demand my own transition? Perhaps it would, and if that were the case, then so be it.


    I didn¡¯t know how to fear or welcome that consequence, but having made my decision, duty took over, and I prepared both for Ansei¡¯s love, and his dying rite.


    The day prior, Ansei had filled several pots with water from the cold stream. I poured the cool liquid out into a small bathing basin. The chill dimpled and flushed my flesh, but I could not feel the cold, so determined was I to follow through with my intention. In the remaining water, I washed the simple, unadorned shift I had slept in the night prior and wore it damp to hasten its drying. Then I went beyond the cave¡¯s mouth in search of Ansei. He could not be very far away.


    The sun was setting and the slight wind tugged and pulled, molding the damp fabric around me, chilling me on the outside, but the chill could not cut the heat rising from within me.


    Shadows lengthened and the sun¡¯s glare blinded. Then I passed into a grove of maples. A little distance inside, and I realized that the wood had once been a sort of garden to the cave dwellers. Now it grew wild, but someone had cultivated it once.


    I ventured deeper within the wood and a breeze tickled my bare neck. Something about the azalea bushes carpeting the roots of the maples struck me with strange familiarity.


    On entry, I had sensed Ansei¡¯s nearness, but began to wonder if I was wrong. I saw and heard nothing of him. I pressed on, feeling increasingly vulnerable in my colder than naked skin. Then an overgrown bed of poppies caught my eye and I started.


    I had been here before, but when? A step farther. I gasped and panned the grove, gazing from tree to tree. Delicately woven silk draped from the branches forming an elaborate tent!


    I crept inside the maples, overlaid in silken webbing. Ansei had been at work. But such work! Deeper yet, giant, heavy webs spanned full trees, blocking the sunlight and turning the wood into one massive room of silken white tapestry.


    As I turned around and around, staring upward in awe, I recalled to mind the vision I had dreamt while Ansei had treated my whip scarred neck with his pine salve. Point-of-view altered the images slightly, but I still recognized it. I had seen myself in this place years ago. In fact, my body had healed as I slept within this very canopy.


    My dream had been in mid-summer with warm and balmy breezes, punctuated by a heavy thrumming of cicadas. A new blast of wind bit my skin, dimpling it all over. My chest tightened. The summer was well behind us now. The cicada¡¯s urgency to find their mates had faded and passed. The sensation of the season¡¯s slipping past filled me with urgency.


    Whatever prophecy the dream may have promised seemed far from inevitable now. Was I, after all, too late? I had delayed and delayed. Was my season behind me?


    I searched on, lifting and parting thin shrouds of white webbed fibers, barely daring to speak Ansei¡¯s name¡ªto hear my voice¡¯s rising desperation.


    He couldn¡¯t have been far. I would find him within this place, somewhere. If I couldn¡¯t discover him, at last he would find me and couldn¡¯t fail to understand my choice. Though outwardly calm, inside I was screaming.


    It wasn¡¯t until I peered upward that I saw it. There! Up in a tree, was a canopy of webbing¡ªa kind of nest. He must be there! To get there, I would be forced to climb, but I thought I could. I reached down and gripped the seam of my slip and tore it open to my pelvis, fibers screaming as they split.


    Then I cast my gaze upward for low branches upon which to pull myself upward. It took some time. Branches grabbed and pulled my hair and scraped my skin. Pinesap stained my slip. The struggle opened the seams of my gown further, almost to my navel, but I reached the nest.


    I peered over and wondered as I took in the expanse and depth of the web. It was a massive feat of industry. A prodigious work of weeks, perhaps months, and surely more than one arachnid. I scanned for Ansei, awestruck by the enormity of this creation. I trained my eyes on a patch of flesh. There! On the far upper edge, I spied a hand and forearm only, but it must be him.


    ¡°Ansei!¡± I said, pulling myself up into the web, which bore my weight with surprising resilience. ¡°Ansei,¡± I called, now screaming as I climbed toward him.


    Then I stopped and stared dumb. His wrists were bound tightly with webbing fibers. He was caught!


    I knelt down beside him and shook him.


    ¡°Ansei. Ansei!¡±


    His eyes widened in recognition. ¡°Furi.¡±


    I gasped,¡± Who did this to you?¡±


    ¡°Nature has to regulate the species somehow,¡± he whispered. ¡°And I am already past my time.¡±


    His words smarted like judgment. I bent over him.


    ¡°You will not go like this.¡±


    ¡°Will you save me then?¡± He asked, one eye arched in deliberate irony.


    ¡°No,¡± I whispered, my voice breaking roughly over a tightened throat. ¡°And, yes.¡±


    He acknowledged me with a slow blink of his eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re here now. There¡¯s no rush.¡±


    I checked my haste, but every other restraint fell away with Ansei¡¯s bindings.


    You may think our spider sex a barbaric rite, and I will not recite those private details to you, but know that for us, we had only this once, and we sacrificed everything for it.

 Architecture of the Heavens

    I slept with Ansei¡¯s remains a day following his passing.


    Macabre? Perhaps, but by then so was I¡ªcoated in sap, sweat and grime. I brought him down from the tree with the last of my strength, his corpse wrapped all around with webbing. It served as an appropriate burial shroud.


    I made his grave in the garden, at the foot of a new maple. The tree would grow up mighty on the strength of his body. It was the only shrine I had to honor him by.


    A week later, I administered the antidote to Okugawa, and was heralded a hero for saving his life, however temporarily. As Ansei had promised, it was not a long life.


    He died not long after the birth, in the blissful illusion of fatherhood to mine and Ansei¡¯s lovely daughter. Most people are capable of this kind of self-deception. Who would not have been proud to think himself the father of a child so lovely?


    I called Madame Sato to the Western Capital to stay with me and assist me through my pregnancy. I learned only much later that she was an Earth Kumo Queen, and Ansei¡¯s mother had sent her to me to teach and to prepare me for the role I would yet play.


    When the time came for my child¡¯s birth. Madame assisted, and held the newborn babe in her arms with all of the pleasure of a rightful grandmother. She, too, had lived for that moment, and would live to see my daughter grow and teach her to understand and respect the goals of reforms she would make.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I never met Ansei¡¯s mother again, after her first appearance to me in the spring inn. And yet, she and I are connected and I know she is not yet finished with me.


    The revolution was brilliant in its conception and execution. In theEarth Kumo pattern, no more did emperors battle their sons and daughters to retain power. No more did their heirs assassinate their fathers.


    No emperor¡¯s reign could continue long at all. The stability the system brought peace and prosperity. Who can tell how many lives were saved after the grafting of arachnid blood into the Ruling House¡¯s chain of succession? I like to think not only our own peoples¡¯, but the lives of many more nations¡¯ as well.


    When my daughter took her throne, she exercised her father¡¯s gifts to preside over the greatest advancement in agricultural productivity and efficiency that the eastern world had ever seen, enriching thepeople and Ruling House, generally.


    She initiated social reforms recognizing women¡¯s contributions, ending slavery. With the creative spirit she acquired from both of us, she promoted the arts, literature and music foundational to a renaissance period which followed her reign.


    I cannot tell of my daughter¡¯s private life. That is her story to set down in the annals of our family history. Not mine.


    If I am honest, I cannot say I never regretted the course I took. Even a brilliant daughter is not fully compensate for the loss of a mate. Yet, I knew my daughter¡¯s value. It was measured in Ansei¡¯s life, and I love her fiercely. She was full of days and much beauty.


    You may ask how long I lived before Ansei¡¯s star reunited with mine. They were days both short and long. I learned well how to savor their agony. But their end was as final as time. And our love is now the architecture of the Heavens.

 Changing Perspectives--Ansei

    Ansei


    Enemies were nothing to wish for, but for much of my life, a mutually antagonistic predator circle saved my skin. Blocking each other¡¯s assaults. Training me to vigilance. As much as they threatened, their mutual hostility seemed to assure my survival.


    Survival, but no quality of life. The best I could hope for was to choose the violence I liked best. Given time, one death did show up preferable even to old age, though by first impressions, it offended like a bad odor.


    * * *


    The old tavern stood off in the distance, like a voyer vagrant at the far edge of the village. The songs of men within competed with the howl of feral cats on their night prowl. My shadow fell across the doorway and silenced the din to a hushed muttering of oaths and barely audible appeals to dead ancients.


    ¡°Get rid of that creature you are harboring, Jiro¡ªor I will,¡± muttered the bar keep, gripping his staff in his arthritic right hand.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stir yourself on Ansei¡¯s account. I¡¯ll go.¡± My Uncle Jiro gathered himself to his feet. ¡°Son of a traitor,¡± he murmured, spraying my face with dry spittle as he collapsed against my shoulder.


    Bracing my uncle¡¯s weight against my back, I half hauled, half dragged his drunken mass through the door of the tavern, his katana blade scraping a fine track across the stone pavers with every step.


    He filled my ear with his sake-soused grievances all the distance to the house, repeating the words: traitor¡­never forgive her.


    I knew who he meant, and I felt much the same, but doubted his reasons agreed with mine, exactly. Face burning, I wondered how well he knew my mother.


    The hour was well past the extinction of lamplight when I dragged him up the genkan and laid him across his futon. He wouldn¡¯t remember the oaths or whispered confessions elicited by my mother¡¯s memory, and this was just as well for me. The wine distanced him from fresh reminders of our kinship¡ªhis brother¡¯s firstborn and rightful heir of the Nagaishi birthright, and at the same time¡­the spider bred son of a traitor.


    * * *


    We were the Nagaishi Clan, known to our imperial enemies as The Spider People for our legendary alliance with the Earth Kumo¡ªshape-shifting she-warriors who occupied the peaks of the Yamato Mountain. Cooperatively, the clan and the Earth Kumo preserved the domain from imperial invasion for nearly four hundred years. The alliance prospered, so long as the Nagaishi pledged never to trespass into the Earth Kumo¡¯s deadly cave-dwelling realm.


    But in the final year of the Warring Clan Period, an Earth Kumo lured Chieftain Toyo Nagaishi into her lair and poisoned him with her venom. On the eve of our enemy¡¯s advancement inside our clan¡¯s borders, second in command Jiro Nagaishi dispatched a messenger and conceded defeat.


    Chieftain Toyo Nagaishi was my father. My mother, his murderess.


    * * *


    My mother made occasion to impress me with my duty to my Earth Kumo roots. Her visits always coincided with the sun¡¯s disappearance. Earth Kumo don¡¯t compete with inferior light sources, even for an audience of one.


    She rose up from behind the mountain, awakening the valley of pines to a light brighter than day. At once, I startled from a shallow sleep and shielded my eyes from her.


    I hustled into a low bow of obeisance. This wasn¡¯t my first interview with my mother, but they came rarely, and I was never prepared for them.


    ¡°Ansei.¡±


    ¡°Mother.¡±


    Unannounced, yes, but my mother¡¯s etiquette wasn¡¯t so backwards as to fail in the matter of gifts. She flung a small carcass into the low burning coals. ¡°It will strengthen you. Eat!¡±


    I fetched the thing out of the coals, fingertips burning, and stared at the charred offering, dripping with roasted fat. I hated to think what celestial beast had been sacrificed for the rite, but I would not have dared refuse it. The previous gift had been raw and bloody, but uncommon strength had, in fact, followed digestion.


    I brought the thing to my mouth and ate it two fisted, polishing the bone and joint clean of flesh. Wiping the grease from my face with a grimace, I bowed low again. ¡°To what do I owe¡ª¡±


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    ¡°Your uncle has given your name to the Shogun. He¡¯s enlisting you in the military at Western Capital. He¡¯ll pass you off as his firstborn to spare his own son the obligation. Pack your things.¡± Under her breath she muttered, ¡°And Jiro considers me the treacherous one.¡±


    My throat closed and I choked, ¡°How can he get away with that?¡±


    My mother answered, dryly, ¡°The circumstances of your birth were uncharacteristic, Ansei. Do you think any detail was recorded so faithfully as to prevent a forgery? He can call you his firstborn son if he so chooses.¡±


    This was true. Births between Earth Kumo and humans never appeared on Okugawa¡¯s annual census. I could be whoever my uncle said I was.


    The Shogun¡¯s military unit at Western Capital was an elite group of youth assembled from the firesides of the Ruling House¡¯s most troublesome clans and kept like hostages, insurance for his enemies¡¯ loyalty. Training was rumored to be deadly¡ªto keep the force lean, and motivated. No one volunteered for the honor of enlisting and I shuddered with the impact of my mother¡¯s message.


    ¡°Good can proceed from these obligations, Ansei.¡±


    ¡°You want me to serve?¡± No Earth Kumo would willingly give her loyalty to Okugawa, so much less my mother.


    ¡°Training can be repurposed, and you will be more useful to the Earth Kumo this way.¡±


    Shifty pragmatism was more like it, but I bowed my neck. ¡°As you say.¡±


    ¡°I came to warn you, and¡­¡± she paused, ¡°to make a one-sided introduction. It¡¯s both long overdue, but it is premature at the same time. Remember, Ansei, your potential after this life is great. But you must make the most of your time. And though you are gaining strength, you are still so vulnerable. If you ever hope to achieve immortality, as I expect you will, you must choose your alliances.¡±


    ¡°You mean, in the Stars¡ª¡±


    She threw her head back and laughed openly, like a man. ¡°What have the Earth Kumo to do with the Stars? Even in our immortality, we are bound to our earthly realm, struggling alongside mortals with their ceaseless wars.¡± Her eyes gleamed. ¡°Someday, we will change all that. Someday, we will take the Sky as well.¡±


    ¡°Who is my earthly ally?¡±


    ¡°Look!¡±


    I followed the path of her immortal finger over miles of space to a simple cottage with a thatched roof. Outside, a young girl bore two heavy water buckets, and heaved them with a strength belying her size.


    ¡°Who is she?¡±


    ¡°She is Furi. I know she appears slight, and humble, but believe me when I say she is mighty. I chose her for you on the day she was born.¡±


    ¡°One of yours?¡±


    ¡°No. Her mother gave her to me to bless with certain of my gifts. She was born to the Goddess Orihime.¡±


    Highborn indeed. I cocked my head. ¡°Which of your gifts?¡±


    A self-satisfied smile lit my mother¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Poison.¡±


    Hearing this, I resolved to hate the girl. My mother, I knew, intended her poison for me.


    ¡°Ansei. Furi can lead you to immortality.¡±


    When my mother said immortality, I heard only death and for the first time, I met my mother¡¯s gaze with a challenge.


    ¡°Where is my father? Where is his immortality?¡±


    She almost flinched at the bitterness in my voice.


    ¡°Your father was composed of rougher materials than you are, Ansei. Remember, he was full mortal. Do you think celestial status is so easy to achieve from such beginnings?¡±


    She stretched out her arms and let them fall, sending a rush of wind at my face and I grimaced.


    ¡°You have a chance, but I can see you despise it!¡±


    In her anger, she abandoned me there beside the flooded field of rice seedlings.


    I loitered all morning, watching the girl toil at a spinning reel. She was quick and strong. But thin and under nourished. This might have inspired my pity, but it didn¡¯t. One thing moved me, and the moment was so brief I might have easily missed it. While I watched, a shaft of light touched the girl¡¯s eyes, upturned to measure the sun¡¯s movement across the sky.


    The light ignited them from the outside with an intensity I had never seen before. My breath caught in my throat and I retreated an involuntary step. Then I cringed.


    A stinging hiss, not unfamiliar, raised my shoulders an involuntary inch.


    I turned and peered into the shade of the forest edge, and a pair of empty eyes met mine. They¡¯d been watching me from the screening of a white fir. When she stepped fully into view I knew her for a jorogumo¡ªa cousin to the Earth Kumo, but the worst kind.


    ¡°You¡¯ve grown up.¡±


    I glared at her. She spoke like she had some kind of personal stake in my growth and well she might.


    My jaw tensed and I called a warning.


    ¡°You cannot attack me now, and you know it.¡±


    Her reply came slow.


    ¡°I know my boundaries, Son of the Earth Kumo. Aren¡¯t you glad to have your mother and her friends to protect you? Don¡¯t you have a lot to look forward to in the future? Or you could come with me voluntarily now? No rule against that.¡±


    Her mouth curved, alluring as a jorogumo was. She waved her hand and the magnetism of her open gesture almost drew me a step closer, but I stiffened with the thought of what tortures she had reserved for me.


    ¡°No? Perhaps not now, no. But I have rarely caught the scent of a more burdened soul. It¡¯s all up for you soon enough. Choose death or let death choose you¡ªthe end is the same. You may as well come with me now rather than await the inevitable.¡±


    I must have seemed easy prey; she revealed her intent so freely. I hated my dispensability. Earth Kumo men were never long for life, and I had learned from the cradle about my sacrificial destiny. Yet, I still wanted my life to matter. I knew my death mattered.


    I steadied myself and threw out the worst slur I could think of.


    ¡°My father spurned you for an Earth Kumo.¡±


    The words hit their mark. She turned a thin shade of purple and shrank back inside the darkness of the forest line.

 Decisions

    The bellies of the goats hung heavy and round when the weather turned. Birds flocked and flew. The time had come for me go.


    I packed up camp and set my face toward the lower lying winter pasture. It would be the first and last time my Uncle Jiro would recognize my return as anything more than the arrival of the new goats.


    He waited, staff in hand. My breath caught in my chest at the sight of the bundle of clothes tied up in a woolen cloth, readied in advance so that he needed only to push it at me and send me away from our ancestral land, though by rights it was mine, and my last connection to my father.


    I hesitated at the gate while he hailed me from beneath the eaves. I bowed low, calculated my assets and laid them down at my uncle¡¯s feet.


    When I sat with him at table, gods-forgive-me, I confessed everything, from the gamey reek of my mother¡¯s blessings to the color of Furi¡¯s apron. It was my first betrayal of the alliance I needed most. Only the first.


    He listened to my story about Furi with surprising interest, given his decade long resolution against all war, earthly or celestial.


    ¡°Could you find the farm again, if you were pressed to it?¡±


    ¡°I could never forget the look of the territory. The Earth Kumo gave me good instructions. I¡¯m certain she meant me to find my way back when the time is right.¡±


    My uncle sighed, laid his arm across my shoulder in almost paternal approval.


    ¡°We¡¯ll decide when the time is right, Ansei. We will decide.¡±


    Knowing about Furi¡ªand her weapon potential, my uncle¡¯s commitment to pacifism passed, so to speak.


    ¡°The right partners in war are everything. One man or woman might be worth hundreds, even thousands of good hands with swords. The best warrior could turn the direction of a battle with the breath of the mouth¡­¡± His gaze fell on the clan totem, ¡°But we are finished with blood wars.¡±


    He talked of a kind of war he called bloodless.


    ¡°Only this kind of conflict,¡± he said, ¡°can pacify the world.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what the burning in his eyes meant, but I knew I had supplied the tinder. I listened as one hypnotized to his plans¡ªnot really for war¡ªbut for peace and nodded while he talked of building an army and rousing young striplings for the purpose.


    ¡°Men like me are too old. They¡¯ve too little imagination, too much blood lust. I want brave warriors, brave enough to rise up, but then walk away from the same fight.¡±


    Like an idiot, I volunteered.


    That same evening, he carved a spider character upon the clan totem, and even spoke my mother¡¯s name softly, saying, ¡°She supplied us with a weapon for our liberation. It¡¯s enough.¡±


    * * *


    I had paid my way to my uncle¡¯s favor, but that fee didn¡¯t go far enough. Within the week, the glow of torches in the dooryard called my uncle out of the house. The clan elders huddled around him, rising voices demanding to have me out. I knew what the elders¡¯ visit meant. And with his worried glance back at the house, I saw my uncle had given me up.


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    Before he returned, I took the bundle he had packed for me the week prior and crept out of the side door toward the northern route from the village. I filled my lungs with our thin, conquered, mountain air and resolved to leave it behind me, though with the next breath I swore to take it back one day, with or without my uncle¡¯s help.


    Once setting foot to the soil, I knew better than to walk.


    The northern route was a steep decent through the terraced fields of the Nagaishi domain. The elders¡¯ sons would know their father¡¯s business and be watching this road. My appearance on it would mean the withdrawal of my uncle¡¯s protection. The symbol of my exile. And the Nagaishi sons would be merciless.


    Within minutes, predatory eyes picked me out on the dusky road and a call cried out ragged and feral. In seconds, several forms sprang out onto the road after me, grabbing up whatever makeshift weapons were close to hand: rocks, sticks, clods of clay.


    I let loose all speed for the trees, footfall peppering the red ribbon of earth beneath me. My pursuers¡¯ aim was accurate, even against a moving target. As I leapt a fence, sharp edged stones pelted my backside, cutting and welting my skin.


    I veered from the road and down to the irrigation canal, autumn vapor rising up thick around the water, my best hope for screening this side of the trees. But the pursuers had anticipated me, sprinting up parallel from the opposite bank and cutting off access to the forest¡¯s shelter.


    Any moment, one would leap the canal and then there would be a brawl. I sprinted back to the road and plowed down the gravel decline. On my toes, I belted straight for the edge of village. In the near distance stood the old tavern and the village boundary.


    But the bar keep watched just inside the door, hard grimace contorting his face. Seconds from safety¡­only seconds away¡­ but the bar keeper leapt into the road and I planted my feet to pivot, but the man kept sharp ahead of me, barring me with his staff.


    I stared as he loomed opposite, oaken staff in hand ready to strike. I braced myself for the blow as he thrust the staff for my middle, but the weapon stopped short of striking.


    Was he offering it to me?


    I blinked in confusion and the barkeep finally pushed the staff into my hands and turned me about. At the same moment the first of my pursuers caught up, skidding his feet in the dust. Rocks and sticks already spent, he stood weaponless against my staff. I brought it up defensively and barred my teeth.


    His eyes twitched with fear as he recognized a change in our relative advantage, but his brothers soon caught up. They stood weaponless, but together they had me half surrounded. Though I¡¯d beaten them all at least once individually, together, they knew they could take me. On signal from my cousin, they jumped.


    I swung wild with the beam, and it connected hard with soft flesh, felling two boys to the earth and surprising even me with the resounding crack from the hit.


    One boy circled wide and leapt on my back, arms choking the breath in my throat. I swung my body again and flung him free like a large beetle. I didn¡¯t watch him fall, both because of its distance and for my own dizziness from the force of my spin. Then I realized what my mother¡¯s latest gift had done to me¡ªfor me.


    Four hands seized me by the legs and would have brought me down hard on top of them, but I thrust the staff down on their heads. The blow broke their hold, and I stepped outside and walloped them again on their backsides. I had fought Hiro back once already, but he threw himself at me, seizing my weapon in his two hands, and then wrenched hard to pull it out of my grip. I clung all the harder, brought him around, and sent him falling into his felled younger brother before he could rise from the ground where he lay.


    At this, my attackers fell back, heads down, gazes averted. I knew what they were thinking. I was the outcast and symbol of Nagaishi defeat¡ªfitting that I should set off to ally myself with an occupier¡¯s showcase military force. This made me a traitor all over again¡ªthough they had forced me to it. They hated me, and yet the shogun¡¯s military force demanded their grudging respect as well. I would have excellent war training. If they could not beat me now, then they could not expect to do it if ever I returned again. This was their last chance and they had failed, and their lips curled with the bitter taste of it.


    I credited my mother¡¯s gifts for the surprising physical strength¡ªsurprising enough that the boys did not follow me beyond the village boundary. Even so, gratitude came hard. Mother was the source of vulnerabilities, too. The same that would someday kill me.

 Western Capital

    The palace at Western Capital was a small city by itself. Its walls stretched three jou across and twelve in circumference. Palace towers lifted their elaborate clay heads high above the guardian walls, red plums and persimmons ripening on trees growing in their opulent shade. But military service had nothing to do with pretty towers and plum trees.


    The warrior¡¯s compound stood on ground north of royal walls, though its perimeter was armed and guarded at least as heavily. The difference lay in the direction of the anticipated threat. Palace guards stood vigilant of assassins; military guards stood wary of deserters.


    Within, a broad square of paving stones stretched two blood-smattered jou between the outer walls. To the south of the square, a stone structure rose up like a stern monolith, claiming the good light and fresh breezes from the west running river¡¯s forest. This southern tower housed ranking officers.


    North of the square, stood the barracks of the outer yard, vulnerable to the coldest northern drafts by way of a not-distant-enough pig farm. Rough-hewn bunks lined its Spartan interior. Surrounding walls closed darkly around resident inmates¡ªinnocent of even a window. The door¡¯s closure-less gap lent a constant, if dim, shaft of light within. The outer barracks housed conscripted soldiers from rival clans. This was my new home.


    Occupying the hard berths next to mine were the sons of samurai clansmen from outside of the capital, each, possessor of a high birthright antagonistic to the reigning military government. Many of our ranks had lived their former lives in castles and halls rivaling anyone¡¯s but the shogun¡¯s for luxury, but those things ceased with enlistment. And their former status meant nothing. Only wits and swordsmanship would preserve them.


    From their first entry inside the compound walls, enlistee¡¯s hopes centered no more on birthright, but on a rigid system of rank and protocol¡­and covert alliances. Yes, alliances. Our fathers may have fought and killed each other in the not too distant past, but now, we needed each other here.


    * * *


    In the chill of predawn, the new order of our lives assembled into a more or less recognizable pattern. Officers from the inner compound organized drills and ran the outer yard recruits with terse, throat-rattling orders that straightened our spines. In early days, we wielded no weapons but our bare arms, trained into katas as we moved strict formations throughout the square. Any deviations brought us brutal attention.


    An officer with the face of a child, even if did have a man¡¯s build, bore authority over the newest soldiers. He seemed to take pleasure in shaming us at every opportunity, opportunities we handed him with our raw, untrained hands. He gave us our first wooden weapons and bloodied our heads with them before committing them to our hands, to demonstrate even wood¡¯s effectiveness.


    I watched the Captain intervene between paired fighters. I watched him drive them across the square until they were ready to collapse, but I trained my eyes to the ground, and waited for him.


    * * *


    Exercises began before dawn. Sparring in the sightless darkness of the square did something to the senses. It focused the mind and sharpened the inner eye. But having eight already, hidden though they were, I never particularly felt the need of a ninth.


    I fitted a neck guard under my breastplate of tosei gusoku plate armor, steel, leather and bone components cold against my skin. But before I could even acknowledge my opponent, a senior officer drew him away, ordering the boy off with a severe hand gesture the soldier wisely did not question.


    The Captain approached, sword raised, his frozen breath billowing through flared nostrils. Neither of us spoke, but I knew this lesson would not be harmless and I lifted my sword.


    His attack was quick and I took a defensive posture, blocking with both hands on my sword. I managed to push him back with a force that surprised both of us. Using that surprise, I lunged to the center. A grunt erupted from his nose as he parried, but I had surprised him, and soon he was stepping back again, and again. I swallowed a euphoric gasp.


    The Captain¡¯s kata was excellent. He knew every stone within the square and how to challenge my balance on loose pavement. This he did, unsettling and nearly felling me to the ground.


    But even with his superior knowledge of technique, I blocked him again and again, countering his rare advance, blunting his force with my arm. Patience and I would have him.


    An audience gathered. Our peers wouldn¡¯t have dared, but the higher-ranking men circled and stared. My opponent eyes twitched in recognition of the increased stakes. No casual withdrawal was possible now.


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    And then he lunged, swiping my knuckles with the tip of his sword. This attack was desperate, and came at a sacrifice. He¡¯d unbalanced himself and had not wounded me enough. I gripped my sword and countered, bashing his knee wide open and felling him to the ground. I stood above him, blade raised, lungs heaving and breath billowing in the cold morning, but another strike was redundant.


    The soldier had fallen upon his own naginata blade. The realization settled over me. Since coming to Western Capital, this was the second death I had seen, and the conviction of my own mortality hit me afresh. I groaned at the sight of the blood pooling around us and wished I could siphon it up and funnel it back inside him.


    Shouts for a doctor echoed through the square. Voices called, shaking and ragged. A hand clapped down on my back. I yielded to its command, following a stern-faced superior inside the military compound, through a labyrinth of narrow corridors concluding in a dark cold cell.


    There followed no word of explanation, and barely any sound at all, but for the clanging of steel and the retreating of boots.


    Hours later, two soldiers returned, opened the cell with a clank of metal and ordered a search. From there, they swiftly disarmed and disrobed me down to my most inner layer of clothing.


    I¡¯d seen a boy fall to serious injury in the short weeks since arriving. No one had flinched. With the blink of superior eyes and waive of a hand, men cleared the square. Pools of red blood, steamed up from the stone until cooling and freezing hard on the pavement. A sacrificial stain to honor the Shogun¡¯s military field. Accidents happened here.


    I sat with these thoughts for an unknown interval with no notion of time¡¯s passage. Anxiety curbed hunger. But thirst¡ªthirst did come and haggled with my confusion for attention until all I could think of was my desperation for water. Only the sound of heavy footfall in the outer corridor momentarily distracted me from it.


    An armed guard called me to attention. I stood, as a soldier learns to do, but fell prostrate when a swift boot swept my knees.


    Looking up, I saw no soldier at the gate of the cell, but a minister to the shogun, robed with a bright banner designating his high office. He looked me over, eyes sharp but conductive of something more. I started when I recognized it as grief.


    ¡°Soldier. Give me the name of your morning opponent.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know it, sir.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a strange answer. All around you knew.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve only been here two weeks.¡±


    ¡°Did you intend to kill him?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill him. He killed himself with his own naginata¡­Sir. You can see the wound, yourself.¡±


    ¡°You violated protocols. Witnesses have said so.¡±


    I sucked in a breath. ¡°What protocols?¡±


    No answer came, so I inferred that the problem was a matter of rank.


    The minister withdrew with a terse word to the guard. Confinement.


    * * *


    Confinement was intended as a death sentence. A period of isolation with little food and torturously little water would soon kill a man. Closed in that dark cell, I should have sickened, and eventually starved.


    I laughed at them. They couldn¡¯t imprison me. I could change. Find food. Thrive in spider form.


    Routines were fixed. Ritual. And within a day I had memorized them. I knew when a guard would appear¡ªwhen I should be present for a brief inspection. I would take what they left for me, if anything. Piss in the can the cell¡¯s corner. And otherwise play the part of their starving prisoner. Then disappear with the spin of a thread.


    I thrived. And after some weeks, I had observably confounded their expectations of my decline. I should have been wasting. I was full fleshed and better fed than I had been in the barracks of the outer yard. My mental faculties were acute. I exceeded the measure of the best of their ranks. I defecated over the can in the corner until they were forced to take it away over-flowing and empty it, shaking their heads and holding their noses in confusion. They could not rationalize what I was eating.


    After one more week, a new man appeared next to the guard on his rounds past my cell. Thin framed and pale skinned, I could see he wasn¡¯t military. He carried a case full of instruments, and soon applied them to my physical examination and measurement. My eyes, mouth, chest, genitalia and feet. He examined me thoroughly. Then he cut a tuft of my hair, ordered me to urinate in a sterile container, and collected a sample of my stool. Finally, he nodded to the guard, and disappeared without a word.


    This routine repeated for another week. Then the physician reappeared with a more senior colleague. They examined me together. The younger man sliced my finger with a knife and drained a quantity of blood into a glass vial, stopping the vial with a piece of cork. Next, he moved to other fluids, including saliva. They tried by some device to produce ejaculation, but this went too far. I could withhold that much.


    When they had collected what they could, the younger man packed up the samples of my fluids and carried them away. The elder of the physicians remained. He removed a fold of rice paper from his robe, made a few notes, and then began to question me.


    ¡°What do you eat?¡±


    I thought about my answer, but why lie? ¡°Mostly insects, the occasional earthworm or moth.¡±


    ¡°Your stool is large.¡± He named a precise volume I won¡¯t repeat. ¡°Where do you find so many insects? There is no earth to dig up. Your cell floor is stone.¡±


    ¡°I suppose they come to me.¡±


    ¡°How do you call them to you? A pipe?¡± He chuckled.


    ¡°I wait and they come.¡± It was true, though I was silent about the detail of a sticky silken web.


    He grunted, dissatisfied. Then removed his spectacles and cleaned them with a fresh cloth. ¡°I believe you. Analysis of your samples is consistent with a protein dominant diet. I¡¯ve even found the pieces of what appear to be moth wings. I¡¯m sure there are some bugs in here. But I¡¯ve no idea where you can be getting the quantities necessary to sustain your weight. If you say they come to you, I¡¯ve no choice but to believe you, or sit in this detestable cell with you continuously to observe the phenomenon.¡±


    I released the breath in my lungs. For a moment, I thought he had decided against his judgment to stay and observe me.

 Shoudou

    Only the physicians examining me had any sense of curiosity about who or what I was. My superiors¡¯ object had been to kill me to satisfy the minister whose son¡¯s death I had hastened. Failing that, they promoted me, and set me again in the square to train.


    From that hour, I became Captain Nagaishi, a titled samurai in the shogun¡¯s army, joining the Order of the Shoudou, an elite group of samurai, whose fame proceeded more from flamboyant tournament competitions than from any peace keeping function. This promotion was laughable, considering my untaught skill in swordsmanship. But they could do no less, based solely upon my peculiar survival. I wouldn¡¯t last a day in my position¡ªnot a day, but I would learn the price of military resources and the perfect fungibility of the lives in the outer yard.


    Perhaps to avoid shaming the dignity of the Shoudou Order, General Yamamoto assigned me special individual training, which was another way of saying:


    You are worrisome and must be watched.


    The general nodded to a stripling whose height and weight matched mine. ¡°Ansei, this is Akihito¡ªyour superior in age, rank, experience and skill. He can easily out spar you in the field, so do not challenge him. He¡¯s your trainer. Model yourself after him in every way.¡±


    On its face, the fighting prohibition signified protection, in light of my untaught status. I was too much a novice for a fair match against Akihito, but I knew better. The general was more afraid of my unanticipated victory than my injury.


    ¡°Akihito can teach you much. Focus on the most basic skills. You have a short space to begin work this afternoon. Go to.¡±


    I bowed, both to general, and then to Akihito, who offered a shallow nod and when the General had departed, and smiled a smile I found more disconcerting than assuring.


    ¡°Follow me.¡±


    I followed him to an interior dojo larger even than the stone paved outer yard. Akihito indicated a wall hung with a greater variety of weapons than I had ever seen. ¡°This is the weapons wall. A Shoudou warrior masters each of them.¡±


    I stared at the bank of weapons sufficient to fit an army. They weren¡¯t training weapons. They were real. Old, some of them, but fire forged steel, all. I glanced around the dojo where other ranks sparred with wooden swords and I got the impression these were not meant for training use.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at what anybody else is doing.¡± Akihito said, ¡°Listen to me. We¡¯re not sparring, and you need an introduction to all of our weaponry. Take the axe.¡±


    My eyes widened at the sight of the large blade hung just within my reach.


    ¡°We¡¯re not fighting each other.¡± He pointed now to a row of man-sized dummies at one edge of the hall. ¡°I¡¯ll demonstrate form. You¡¯ll follow my stance. Now. Attack the target.¡±


    I glanced at him. ¡°Attack?¡±


    He glared and repeated the order, pointing his sword.


    I lifted the axe and lunged at the dummy, striking with a blow to the chest. I retrieved the blade with a thunk.


    He pointed his sword at me. ¡°This is a strength exercise. Hit again. Hit hard!¡±


    I¡¯d buried the blade in the wood of the target¡¯s center. The one blow would have finished anyone and I glanced again at Akihito.


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    Akihito stared, eyes empty. ¡°Strike again.¡±


    I struck, splintering the wood and sending raw chips flying into the air. In so doing, I had felled the target to the floor.


    Akihito wouldn¡¯t meet my eye. ¡°Again.¡±


    The target was ruined. What remained wasn¡¯t a fight, but butchery.


    ¡°Decapitate him!¡±


    Following his order forced my mind outside of body. From somewhere behind Akihito, I observed myself attacking the dummy. My stance was unbalanced. My strike sloppy. Grip untrained. Breathing ragged. Akihito never corrected me, but goaded me on to destruction, to a frenzy of unchecked aggression. And as I struck and struck again, a pair of arms seized me from behind, pulling me off the target.


    ¡°Stand down! What are you doing?¡± A harried command rang through the dojo. I stopped, turned and confronted General Yamamoto, his blazing stare trained on the axe in my hands.


    I dropped the weapon and let my arms hang limp by my sides, then glanced around the dojo. Akihito had disappeared.


    ¡°Take him in for confinement,¡± the general muttered to a pair of officers behind him.


    They handed me back to the cell I had come to associate more closely with freedom than any kind of prison. The instant I was certain of solitude, I transformed into spider form. Finally, I would be able to eat something!


    I peered at the flat lying wings of a moth on the wall, spun a hasty trap and ensnared it in a trice. This done, I built another web and slept in its strands most of the afternoon.


    The nap was an indulgence too far. With a crash, the outer door swung wide and the guard heaved his lungs, blowing his breath in my face as he leapt for the high vent in the corner of the ceiling where I crouched.


    He shoved his arm inside the vent, ensuring its integrity, then jumped down to the floor with a thud, rolled his eyes in confusion as he circled the tiny cell, confounded by my apparent disappearance. Finally, he noticed my discarded robe in the corner of the cell, picked it up and studied it.


    I grunted with some irritation when he snatched it up and stuffed it in his belt. That was the only stitch of clothing I had, and now I¡¯d have to reappear to the guard naked when he came back to make his explanations, an event that would be awkward for both of us, though I hoped, more awkward for him.


    I cringed at my mistake. Reappearing was a risk. There would be more questions. More examinations. More probing, but no matter how I loathed submitting to it, I couldn¡¯t leave now. I couldn¡¯t commit to a life of vagrancy.


    As close to exposure as I dangled, quite literally from a fine fiber, escape offered no freedom for me. I¡¯d staked my integrity on this ground. Everything I wanted flowed from it. Command of an army. Reclamation of the Nagaishi land. My uncle Jiro¡¯s eyes looking at me and detecting my father, his elder brother and commander, staring back at him. I wanted my birthright and I would take it back!


    I marked my breathing until it settled into a rhythm, then took my human shape and awaited interrogation.


    When the guard returned, his eyes widened at the sight of me. Full-blooded material. Unwilling to risk a second disappearance, he bound my wrists where I stood and pushed me outside into a hall crowded with soldiers.


    Standing there in only my skin, I scrambled into seiza and bowed low in front of General Yamamoto, as much for privacy as for any show of respect.


    He took a moment to silence the murmuring soldiers. ¡°Where is your robe?¡±


    I gambled that the guard hadn¡¯t mustered the guts to confess the fact of my mysterious disappearance on his watch¡ªnor did I think he would confess it¡ªeven if I lied. ¡°The guard stripped me.¡±


    ¡°Searching is protocol, but not removal of your robe.¡±


    I let the general draw his own conclusions.


    He tossed a coat at my feet. ¡°Cover yourself.¡± Then he grunted, jutted his jaw and ground his teeth for several minutes before finally speaking again. ¡°Why did you destroy our target men in the dojo?¡±


    ¡°I hit them on a direct order to do so.¡±


    ¡°Superior officer Akihito¡¯s account differs from yours.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t answer this. I didn¡¯t know why Akihito had set me up, unless it was because I was Nagaishi. It could be that.


    ¡°The damage you have caused is a bad example for a soldier of your rank. Replacing those targets is a heavy expense--and you must take responsibility for all of it. Furthermore, I am forced to reconsider your promotion.¡±


    I heard all that the general said and I learned¡ªmainly this¡ªthat the lives of the men in the outer yard were less than the wooden sparring targets in the interior dojo.


    Maybe it was years of war that lead him to this low calculation of human life, and for an instant it checked my survival instincts and turned my thoughts to my uncle and his radical notion of bloodless war.


    Ultimately, the general revoked my title and returned me to the outer barracks. I had come full circle, but was no better trained than the day I had entered.

 Rebellion

    The officer whom I had assisted into the grave was a bully, a tormentor of lower ranking soldiers. Besting him in a fight was the shortest route to the hearts of the soldiers in the outer yard. The low ranks had watched him brutalize their companion soldiers on all sides without remorse. They all knew he was coming for them eventually.


    When I returned to the barracks, I was surprised by the welcome I received. My companions had trumped me up to some kind of legend, first, for surviving butchery, and second, for surviving starvation. They handed me their allegiance like children. From here, it was a simple step to recruiting the ranks to an underground army.


    The difficulty was in keeping the ranks motivated to the purpose. And I was still untrained with a sword, but I quietly organized and rallied my comrades from damp irresolution to some kind of fighting spirit. And from there, we scraped for food, bolstering our strength on beetles and grubs which we collected from beneath the stones of our square. I trained these men in my own self-taught pattern of sword-play. It was sloppy and desperate, but it seemed to ignite a fire within them. Gradually, strength and renewed purpose supplied us with balance, and balance yielded to technique. Technique to skill. Skill to rank, but not to a berth within the inner compound. Not for me. Army leadership held me at a safe distance and this satisfied me.


    Whenever a man of mine fell, I demanded medical help, and though our superiors would supply very little, the physicians who had come to examine me in my cell had not given up interest in me. They had continued their study and were occasionally on hand to intervene at a critical moment.


    ¡°Have you kept the log I gave you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sensei, and I¡¯ll give it to you, but before that, there¡¯s someone who needs your attention much more desperately. I believe he will die without it.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s your medic?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the only one we¡¯ll ever see.¡± I dragged him by one arm into the cold barrack and brought him to the bedside of my latest injured.


    The doctor examined the soldier. ¡°He has lost some blood, but these wounds aren¡¯t fatal by themselves. It¡¯s these shabby dressings,¡± The doctor pulled a soiled bandage away from the wound. ¡°Infection will kill him.¡±


    ¡°We haven¡¯t any clean bandages. Most wounds go unbound.¡±


    ¡°You have medics in the compound. I know you do.¡±


    ¡°We get little attention from them.¡±


    The doctor fell silent, his eyes turned mournful. ¡°I¡¯ll see that you get equipment, but it won¡¯t be enough. You¡¯ll need instruction. I¡¯ll teach you not only how to bandage, but to treat other likely ailments you¡¯ll encounter.¡±


    The honest doctor supplied us with a small apothecary. Herbs and bandages both. He taught me how to clean the wounds as well as wrappings. How to prepare several kinds of poultice to leach infection and regrow flesh. How to detect a fracture and set the broken bone. He saved at least ten of my men from acute infection. And he did all this freely, or almost.


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    ¡°I¡¯ve been observing you for months, Ansei. I¡¯ve measured you, collected every kind of fluid¡­nearly. Examined you thoroughly and after so much time and a great deal of puzzling, I have finally concluded ¡­¡± He paused.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°¡­you aren¡¯t human.¡±


    I blinked at the man, barely breathing. ¡°If not human, then what?¡±


    ¡°That, I won¡¯t say. I would like to do more tests. Would you cooperate with me?¡±


    ¡°Cooperate so you can take away my humanity?¡±


    ¡°I know this seems a logical step too far, but you might be surprised to know how much I¡¯ve observed in my professional life and beyond, and how much of my experience supports my conclusion.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t sloppy logic that bothered me, but the old man¡¯s canny precision. Still, I denied, ¡°I¡¯m human. Nothing else.¡±


    ¡°Calm down. At this point you are more of a hobby to me than a professional case. I don¡¯t stake my career on finding you out. I¡¯m curious¡ªnot a champion to go about challenging you. And of course, all of this.¡± He waved a hand at the tools we owed entirely to his supply. ¡°has been quite expensive, but we must all acknowledge the moral imperative to do everything we can to aid the vulnerable¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you speaking of my aid, or your own?¡±


    ¡°Why? Can¡¯t I speak of both at once?¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s not play games. What do I owe you?¡±


    ¡°More blood. But I would be heartily gratified if you could show me your supply of beetles. Your insect diet is rather extraordinary and I wish to study it more closely¡­and tell me. How effective is your sight through your compound eyes? I¡¯ve always been so interested to know how you use them.¡±


    * * *


    My lungs tightened and my breath stilled. The doctor had found my eyes¡ªall eight of them, I suspected. I didn¡¯t know what to say. How to confirm or deny. But my apparent confusion was affirmation enough, and he waved all excuses off with an idle shake of his hand before shuffling through the gap that served as doorway.


    The doctor knew enough to end everything for me, but he didn¡¯t have any interest in a quick end. And his gifts of bandages and medicines continued to flow into the barracks.


    * * *


    ¡°You are an oddity, but don¡¯t give yourself too much credit. I¡¯ve seen greater aberrations of nature than yourself.¡±


    I raised one brow in silent question.


    ¡°Now Earth Kumo was a surprise, but have you ever encountered a man who is also a fox? I have.¡± He grinned. ¡°Now who is surprised? The world is wide and you aren¡¯t the only curiosity of nature in it. I¡¯m not about to inform anyone. The military has already tried to murder you and failed. Between us, I think they¡¯re out of ideas for dealing with you. You¡¯ve stumped them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve no illusions they¡¯ve given up trying.¡±


    ¡°No doubt. No doubt. Whatever you do, don¡¯t let anybody lead you into the brothels. You¡¯re not built for it. It could kill you.¡±


    I scratched the nervous itch creeping up my neck, and glanced away. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad. Your career was meant to be brief, but brilliant. Who wouldn¡¯t want to die at their peak of manhood? None of that gradual petering of virility. Nature is strange. Strange, yes, but perfect in its strangeness.¡±


    I kept my face averted, lifting the flap on his satchel in search of anything to change the subject. ¡°What else did you bring for supplies?¡±


    ¡°I would die like that. I would. Oh, yes. And herbs! I have to tell you. They are getting expensive. And I¡¯ve thought about it. With your gifts, you should be cultivating herbs and giving them to me. I¡¯ve heard myths of what your kind can do with a garden and I don¡¯t doubt them for a minute. You should quit this stupid warring profession. Be a doctor¡­or a pharmacist at least.¡±


    I gestured to the cold stone square outside. ¡°I¡¯m conscripted. They didn¡¯t ask me if I wanted to be here. And how do you propose I cultivate herbs in this compound?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to your leadership. I think I can persuade them from a resources point of view. Wait till we see what you can do with them!¡±

 Outer Yard

    My companions in the outer yard found as much trouble from youth and inexperience with weapons as from any offensive threat. On a late afternoon in early spring, a soldier came rushing at me, hands blood-soaked. I believed he was the victim, and took hold of him to examine the wound, but he pulled away.


    ¡°Not me, Sensei.¡± Sometimes the soldiers called me physician, absent any better rank to honor me by.


    Behind him, his companion lumbered forward carrying the youngest soldier in the outer yard in two hands. So much blood spattered his body up and down, I was sure the boy must be dead already or would be soon. But he blinked at me through sweat bathed lids, disclosing lucid, fear-stricken eyes, before they rolled back into his unconscious head.


    He had severed the femoral artery. I didn¡¯t stop to ask how, but waved him to a bare bunk where I examined the wound. His companions had slowed the blood loss with a strip of fabric tied around the leg to pressure the upper artery, but a hollow sensation washed over me as I saw the artery had not closed¡ªnor could a second pressure bandage fix it.


    I waved his companions back.


    ¡°Out! Get out and keep everyone away until I tell you otherwise!¡± I glanced up and down at the long shadows of the empty barracks and then back again at the unconscious boy, fighting for his life. He wouldn¡¯t last much longer.


    Gently, I opened the flap of skin again and saw the dead end of the artery, shrinking purplish and bloody inside the lower leg. Both sides of the wound withdrew from each other as if repelled. How could I close them?


    I glanced away for relief, and held the breath in my lungs, then forced myself to focus. He had minutes, and not many.


    Not thinking any further than the first few steps ahead of me, I found a vial of strong sake, poured it into a dish, and set the dish up on the bunk next to the patient. Then, retreating to the darkest corner of the barrack walls, I altered forms.


    Scrambling up the side of the bunk, I waded into the dish of sake, drenching my legs and lower half in the eye-stinging liquid bath. This done, I crept up the side of the patient¡¯s wounded leg, following the path of blood to the dying limb. The artery was devastated¡ªcut cleanly across¡ªit would cling to nothing. And yet I spun a silk thread and wrapped it around again and again, but it wouldn¡¯t hold. I left it to drag a needle from my chest of tools over to the cot, though it cost time, I threaded the needle with my own silk, heaved it up and plied it against the artery wall until it penetrated. Then I dragged it back up to the opposite end of the wound.


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    The real difficulty began there. Wading close to the seeping injury, it took everything I had to reach down to find the buried end of the artery where it shrank deep in the pooling blood, and writhed violently with the pulse of his pumping heart.


    The red pool threatened to drown me as I struggled to grip it and puncture the artery wall with my needle. I gasped for breath in the lake around me, blood slicking the surface of the patient¡¯s tissue and destroying my purchase as I gripped and gasped for breath, then gripped again.


    By degrees, I subdued the writhing artery and bored the needle through that end.When I saw the thread would hold, I filled my lungs with breath.


    With another heavy breath, I wove a scaffolding shell around the threaded artery, keeping the center hollow. I wove back and forward over the skeletal pattern until it was knitted close and tight enough to carry liquid.


    Gasping and exhausted, I waded out of the pool of blood, and transformed. This was the moment of truth. I had to cut the binding pressurizing the wound and test whether my weaving would carry his blood. I forced a swallow and lifted a knife to the binding. With a sharp thwap of breaking fiber, the leg was free and blood flowed. I held my breath and watched it fill the lower artery, straight through my woven patch.


    I watched for several minutes as the lower leg altered from gray to almost pink. Then, I threaded a needle and began to close up the wound. A poultice of plantain and comfrey herbs completed the dressing.


    My patient¡¯s complexion shone pale and waxy with sweat by the waning light streaming through the barrack doorway. His breathing was labored, but he was still alive. If he survived the night, he might recover yet. With the release of pressure, my adrenalin failed, and I staggered and fell to the floor.


    The sun had nearly set by the time I awakened, and with a start, remembered the boys I had banished from the barracks. I staggered to the doorway where dozens of them milled anxiously in the yard. They stared back at me, faces marked with horror at my appearance in the doorway¡¯s gap.


    I looked down and remembered I was naked. Not quite naked. A thick coating of blood blanketed my legs, arms and torso all the way up to the bridge of my nose.

 Natural Symmetry

    The old physician came to the outer yard daily during spring harvest season. He chuckled as he knelt in the furrows of my small herb garden.


    ¡°You can certainly grow herbs, Ansei, but you¡¯re going to lose a hand trying to harvest them with your long sword.¡±


    He reached up to hand me a small harvesting knife and I thanked him for it. Using the dull and ancient blades we had on hand in the barracks was butchering my hands.


    We lapsed to silence as we worked, but I was growing bolder with the doctor, questioning him in ways I had never dared question anyone.


    There had never been a parent to whom I could put life questions¡ªsave my mother¡ªand she could hardly be relied upon. Gradually, I found in the doctor a friend both sober and trustworthy.


    ¡°Was your father a physician?¡±


    He glanced sideways in surprise at my abrupt question. ¡°No. My father was a soldier.¡±


    This surprised me. I had always supposed he had followed his father¡¯s profession. ¡°Where did you learn? How did you learn to care for creatures¡ªfor people?¡±


    He gazed off into the mountains on the eastern horizon. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Part of it was in me, I suppose. Nature is always modeling some extraordinary tenderness at odds with its alternative harshness. You work out which path you want to follow on your own.¡±


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    ¡°I look at my spider¡¯s nature and see only cruelty.¡±


    ¡°Truly?¡± He chuckled. ¡°I look at your nature and see the most heroic father in all creation.¡±


    I snorted at this explanation. ¡°He never lifts a finger for his offspring.¡±


    The doctor frowned. ¡°He offers his whole life. Both sexes are about as giving as they can be. Mother spiders die soon after their eggs hatch. There¡¯s lovely symmetry in spider lives, you know.¡±


    I had never considered this view, and it didn¡¯t satisfy me now. ¡°There is tension between spider and humanity. They should never combine.¡±


    The doctor rooted up a weed and tossed it in my direction.


    ¡°Perhaps. But how do you know? The best lives are lived between extraordinary tensions.¡±


    I snatched the weed up and tossed it into a pile. ¡°What do you mean?¡± The doctor¡¯s unconventional responses had irritated me, but had also goaded my curiosity.


    ¡°Is it better to make a show of strength or to use a kind word? Either response might be correct at different times. How will you get it right if you use only one approach? You may avoid tension, but you will miss the middle path, too. The middle path is always taut with tension.¡±


    I nodded silently, thinking, and gazing back at the doctor from a plane I¡¯d never visited. ¡°You¡¯ve taught me to doctor typical battlefield wounds, but someone in my situation needs more sophisticated remedies.¡±


    The old doctor raised his brow.


    ¡°I need an anti-venom.¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°Yes, you do. But the cure you are seeking doesn¡¯t exist.¡±


    ¡°Then maybe I¡¯ll develop it myself.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re as likely as anyone to succeed, but I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s wise to hang your hopes on it too heavily. Remember, Nature loves symmetry.¡±

 Snare

    ¡°Don¡¯t go, Furi. Don¡¯t go,¡± I muttered, but watched her set off across the garden walk toward the pond and distant river. It would be quiet there, and I understood her desire for quiet, but I wasn¡¯t the only one who had noticed her departure. The second Nobu had also noticed, and he followed.


    Salvaging the situation would be as much as I could do. I didn¡¯t promise to save the miserable carcass of that idiot second Nobu brother but counted as I watched his oily gait to the boundaries of the estate.


    How close could I follow without creating an obvious parade? Ten steps. Twelve. Fourteen. Now he was beyond the line of conifers. Twenty-four, twenty-six. Now he was nearing the maple boundary of the inner garden. Forty-two, Forty-four. Almost out of sight.


    Now. I could follow now.


    I sprang down the hill, never bothering with the gravel pathway, but leaping over shrubs and saplings, I moved straight to the river, making a wide circle around Furi and her stalker. From the screening of the trees along the river bank, I watched his approach by the glow of the rising moon.


    He had spooked her, certainly. She almost jumped at his appearance. I hoped, but I knew better than to expect mere civility from him. He had a motive and I could scarcely expect this encounter to end in anything but violence.


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    I might intervene now, but for my uncle¡¯s warning against witnesses. And Furi would not need my defensive help. She could face anyone only too handily. The problem was a matter of proportion. Nobu was no great figure of fortitude. She would finish him quickly.


    That moment came, and he fell like a waif, and Furi collapsed into the grass beside him. The next moment, I bent over her fatigued body, checked her vitals, and found them strong. Her head lolled to one side, and I arranged her more comfortably upon a pillow of grass. The release of poison would make her sleep, but only for a little while. Soon, she would awaken and I couldn¡¯t let her find Nobu¡¯s body lying dead on her hands.


    I checked the corpse for vitals and confirmed his extinction. Then I slung the smallish body over my shoulder and carried him through the tall grass down to the river.


    A broad-based rowboat bobbed in the current next to a small dock, and I laid Nobu in it length-wise. The boat could float downstream a fair distance before the body would be discovered and although it gave away human interference to his death, distance and time was more important to Furi at the moment.


    No one would suspect Furi of carrying a heavy body down to the river. I liked the strange angles in the appearance of this incident, though the truth was beyond everything for strangeness. Maybe this much interference alone would be enough to distance Furi from the investigation that would inevitably follow.


    I reached down into the cool water, hauled up the anchor, and let the boat drift.

 Bound

    I stepped over the faded peonies and up into the dim of the now abandoned tea room and swept my gaze across the almost empty space. Furi¡¯s loom stood naked against the wall. Otherwise, little evidence of her habitation remained.


    She¡¯d hastened her departure, taking barely enough time to catch the very beginnings of the funeral proceedings of the Nobu families. The slight could hardly be helped. And after all, she¡¯d forgiven Nobu¡¯s debt. Apparently, Nobu couldn¡¯t pay her, and yet, somehow, he¡¯d managed to scrape together enough cash to carry off a creditable mourning for his dead.


    The great house¡¯s halls had echoed with the wail of criers for the past two days.


    Now, quiet spread through the walks and grounds, a welcome relief from the stilting ceremony which had occupied the house now for weeks, but restlessness pervaded and unsettled my nerves. I wanted distance from this haunted place.


    First marriage, then death.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. A dark figure south of tea house. Another to the east. There may well be more surveillants shadowing me.


    Careless.


    A drape fell over my head and my sight went black. A figure dropped from above me. Six hands reached for my limbs, bound me fast, and wrestled the dagger from my belt. There could be no transforming now. I was caught. An acidic aroma permeated the cloth over my nose. Drowsiness overtook me.


    * * *


    A lapse of unknown hours passed before I regained consciousness. The astringent scent of animal urine seized my nose. A woven mat, sticky with oil or similar substance had creased its pattern into my bound hands and arms. A velvet softness brushed my bare arm, small feet padded over one leg. Meow.


    Cat. More than one, actually. Frustrating. I had to get out of here and my first and unfailing instinct was to transform. But cats would eat a spider my size.


    I might evade them, but how many were there? I couldn¡¯t see through the black hood over my eyes. I detected the movement of an air current. An open door or window. And curse it¡ªa nest nearby¡ªat least one. Hungry nestlings shrieked for satisfaction. If I transformed and survived the cats, I¡¯d never get by the savage birds. How was I going to get out of here?


    My head ached and a cold conviction caught in my lungs and almost took my breath away. Nobu knew. He knew about me and my Earth Kumo blood. The cats¡­the nests of birds. I was an escape artist against human captors, but never my worst predators. He knew my weaknesses and he¡¯d pinned me here like a specimen.


    Minutes passed, then hours. I didn¡¯t worry. Nobu would be coming. He¡¯d kept me alive for a reason. He or someone would be along to interrogate me soon.


    Was this about the death of his brother? I doubted it. Ishiro made it fairly clear there was no love lost there. Was it about an alliance with the Ruling House? More likely. Oh, how Nobu would love to deliver me up to the Ruling House now, complete with evidence of my uncle¡¯s plans.


    I wrenched in my bindings. Silk. Impossible to tear. If I could find a sharp edge, maybe.


    The scuff of feet and movement as heavy soles trampled through an adjacent room. Men spoke. Was it Nobu? Would he come to question me?


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    Nobu¡¯s voice spoke, ¡°Good morning, Ansei. Such a nice morning, don¡¯t you think? I always love awakening to birdsong? Don¡¯t you?¡±


    I remained silent.


    ¡°And so much birdsong. It¡¯s late for nestlings, but these are some of my own pets. They don¡¯t always follow the rules. I had them moved under the eaves of this little hut, just to make you comfortable. Are you comfortable?¡±


    ¡°Quite.¡± My answer was muffled under the hood and I¡¯d slurred my speech deliberately, so he would remove the hood¡­which worked. He pulled the hood from my head and my eyes dilated in the brightness and then took in my quarters. A small hut. Guard in the corner, lazily leaning against the wall. Six cats roamed freely or slept in corners. Nobu, sneered above me.


    ¡°I hope you like cats.¡±


    ¡°Not as well as rabbit, but it will do in a pinch.¡±


    ¡°Be careful what you say in their hearing. You know, turnabout is fair play.¡±


    I exhaled with frustration. ¡°What is this about Nobu? Money? You think Okugawa is going to pay your debts, when he hasn¡¯t any other samurai in the country? You think he¡¯s going to give you wealth so the rest of the nobility can come clambering after him for more of the same?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not looking for a handout. I¡¯m looking for fair compensation for services rendered.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t believe it, Nobu. Hadn¡¯t Ishiro told you? Oh yes, I know. I also know your brother was a traitor¡ªto you as well as my uncle. Such dangerous business, treachery against friends.¡±


    ¡°You should know about treachery.¡±


    ¡°I know treachery¡¯s rewards and I commend you to every blood-stained one of them.¡±


    He laughed me off. ¡°I¡¯m afraid your ghost will have to curse me. I don¡¯t think Okugawa will keep you alive long.¡±


    ¡°Okugawa has had his chance at me, but there was nothing there. I suspect he¡¯ll be pretty bored when you dump a lowly foot soldier at his gates.¡±


    ¡°I have more than that.¡±


    ¡°Really? What have you? Nothing, or you would have already shipped me to Western Capital.¡±


    ¡°I have a full trousseau of silk no human hand could have woven. I have that and you. He¡¯ll know the Earth Kumo have returned. He¡¯ll know of your weapon.¡±


    My stomach turned and it was everything I could do to stifle it from heaving through my throat. ¡°Liar!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see what Okugawa thinks. We¡¯ll see.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have enough yet. You¡¯re looking for more, else why would we be here now?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re enough by yourself, but your uncle and you together would really round out the package.¡±


    I laughed. ¡°You think my uncle will come after me? He won¡¯t. I assure you. You¡¯ll make a big scene with your silk, though. There¡¯ll be a scandal when it comes out that you¡¯ve stolen all of it.¡±


    He stared, fists clenched around his sword and tempted to strike me. If he killed me, he¡¯d have nothing and it was better that I should die now than that he should go after Furi. I could provoke him a little further.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you? The richest domain in Otoppon wasn¡¯t enough for you? With so much mismanaged wealth, Okugawa would be wise to keep you under watch. He does, doesn¡¯t he?¡±


    Nobu raised his sword, blade trembling in his white fisted grip.


    ¡°Your problem is you¡¯ve no restraint. Nor your daughter. I can tell you all about her.¡±


    A blast of air flew at my face, but Nobu¡¯s swing hissed to a stop as a shaft of silken filament shot across the room, seizing his sword and his hand.


    The Kumo Queen crouched, lithe and menacing at the door. In a trice, she had the lazy guard bound and gagged in the corner.


    Chaos erupted, cats hissing and shrieking as the Queen¡¯s hordes rushed the door. Sharp teeth bit at my wrists, and with two short snaps, my hands and feet were free.


    The spider hordes spared no time for the cats, but felled Nobu¡¯s men where they stood in the dooryard, wrapping them around in silken fibers and dragging them off to dispose of the evidence. It was over in minutes.


    I watched, pale and bloodless as they dragged the bodies slowly up into the foothills.


    ¡°You thought it was vanity that brought me here.¡±


    I flinched at the voice of Madame Sato, who now stood at the door, impeccably dressed in a subdued kimono.


    ¡°Of course, Nobu had to be dealt with.¡±


    ¡°You covered our blind spot.¡±


    ¡°Earth Kumo were always very good at doing that.¡±


    ¡°Does this mean the alliance is restored?¡±


    She sniffed.


    ¡°I suppose that depends upon Furi.¡±

 Truth

    When I looked back on my life, asking what loose ends I needed to tie up before death, I got lost in the blankness of my other self¡¯s answering stare. There was nothing. No one would feel the loss of a traitorous son of an Earth Kumo. And with this conviction, I resolved against revisiting the Nagaishi domain or even Western Capital.


    I camped in a forest of chestnut trees, west of the Eastern Capital, close enough to reach the city within a day¡¯s travel. Princess Sachiko sentintelligence of Furi¡¯s safe arrival within palace walls with promises to keep me faithfully informed of her movements, and then when all was ready, bring her to the appointed place. At that time, an envoy from Western Capital would bring Okugawa heir to the Imperial Mountain Springs for a bathing retreat. There they would meet, and Yasuhiro would fall.


    I expected my uncle and a part of the army to rendezvous at my camp. As far as I was concerned, there was little left but to wait. The time had approached, but there were pieces of my uncle¡¯s game that were yet to be played. That movement could take either weeks or months to bring to full maturity.


    For me, this meant a long wait. And yet, I didn¡¯t envy Furi¡¯s time at Court. The Princess had promised to take care of her, but I knew what royal formalities would do to her, and I stifled a fresh spasm of guilt with every thought of her.


    As for me, I would be idle for some time, and I cast my gaze from the embers in the fire pit to my sword, resting sheathed upon my bedroll. I brought out a wet stone from my satchel, unsheathed my longsword and began drawing it in one direction over the stone. Faint light streamed through pockets in the foliage, glinting off the steel of the blade.


    With a slight rustling of dry brush, I glanced up and noticed a russet colored fox had approached close to my fire. It was a brazen move for a wild creature. He should know better. I stood, intent on frightening him off, but he only drew nearer, sat down, and let his long tail curl neatly around his forepaws.


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    When I looked again, I saw no fox, but the old doctor who had mentored me at Western Capital, seated at my fireside. ¡°You see strange things in these woods, I tell you. The longer you live, the more the oddities jump into the foreground.¡±


    My jaw fell and I stared mute at my old friend who had guessed and kept my secret all these years since.


    ¡°But you will not have many more years for observing the strange, will you?¡±


    ¡°Sensei, you always were a sly one. Fox suits you. You couldn¡¯t have chosen a better animal.¡±


    He grunted, and waved a cloud of smoke from his face. ¡°I didn¡¯t choose my birthright any more than you did. And its aptness is proof of the honesty of the phenomenon. You couldn¡¯t have chosen better than spider.¡±


    I could only frown at this saying. And he looked up sharp as though he were the one offended. ¡°I can¡¯t think of another creature I would sooner have around.¡±


    ¡°You know much, Sensei. But you do not know the burdens of the Earth Kumo.¡±


    ¡°Truly spoken. But none live a life of leisure but those who are fattened for table. History will make a fine account of you and your sacrifice. Your work matters to more than yourself.¡±


    I nodded, grimly, but could make no better acknowledgment.


    He went on, ¡°I thought I would tell you. I have tended your garden at Western Capital these several years. Your herbs are potent and have assuaged much suffering among the patients in my care.¡±


    At this, I softened.


    ¡°That¡¯s welcome news. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Well. I could do that much. You turned out a fine healer.¡±


    ¡°In a better world, that would have been my whole occupation.¡±


    ¡°No. In a better world, we wouldn¡¯t need healers, nor soldiers.¡±


    I grunted agreement at this saying, and we fell silent, listening to the quiet chatter of forest creatures.

 Revolution

    An egret¡¯s call broke the morning silence as I gathered kindling from a dead pine. I answered back and its mournful return confirmed that Uncle Jiro¡¯s army had arrived.


    The scout stepped out of the forest and made deep obeisance, not as a soldier would to his military senior, but he bowed as he would to his sovereign. My chest tightened to see this humility and for a moment I couldn¡¯t speak.


    When he stood up again, I recognized one of my outer yard soldiers¡ªthe young stripling whose femoral artery I had sewn together with my own spider silk, and I swallowed a lump in my throat, remembering the narrowness of his escape.


    The scout disappeared again, but not before making another deep signal of reverence, which I answered with a long, low bow.


    At sundown, we made camp in a grove of chestnut trees. We ate rice and salt fish, and I was bemused to see several of my young recruits gathering grubs from under rocks and felled trees. I joined them, but they were strangely quiet in my presence.


    Long past twilight, I sat up with my uncle trading information, but I held back one critical piece of intelligence.


    It would arouse his anger like nothing I had ever said to him in my life, and I had provoked him much. I wasn¡¯t eager to enrage him now when matters were so advanced. He might dismiss me as he had done before¡ªmight even turn on me, but I couldn¡¯t avoid it any longer.


    ¡°We anticipate her full cooperation¡ªespecially when you remem¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wrong.¡±


    The old man started at my interruption.


    ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°Furi will resist. Protest. At best she¡¯ll cause costly delays. Don¡¯t expect an easy time on that front, Uncle. Her noncompliance could thwart the entire plan. Be prepared for it.¡±


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    ¡°She has never given the least indication of¡ª¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s never known the truth.¡±


    Uncle Jiro frowned. ¡°Nor need she know it now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to tell her everything.¡±


    His eyes rounded in horror.


    ¡°I forbid it! You will jeopardize everything! A whole nation! Better lives of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Honesty,¡± I argued, ¡°should begin at this nation¡¯s inception. She has to know the truth.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too great a risk!¡±


    ¡°I will tell her.¡±


    My uncle stood and drew his sword. Our swords met with a jarring clash of steel. The surrounding camp receded from my vision as I threw attacks at my uncle and his better trained sword. We circled the fire pit, our swords adding sparks to the crackling flames at our feet.


    Uncle Jiro was no amateur swordsman. He¡¯d fought alongside my father, and his skill was excellent. Whatever he professed about bloodless wars, he was a fierce Nagaishi clansman¡ªa warrior, first and last.


    I blocked his attack with the flat of my sword and the force of the impact sent tremors from my wrists to my shoulder joints, and drove me backwards on the flats of my feet.


    Dodging his wide swing, I leapt back over the still burning flames of the fire pit, then swung for the trees, raining a bunch of chestnuts down on my uncle¡¯s head while I let loose a wild cross body swing.


    He blocked, parried and lunged through the middle of the flames, reaching down with his gloved hand, he flung a spray of live coals at my skin, singing my forearms. I winced and swung back, again and again against the walls of his guard. My death was already reserved. I couldn¡¯t bargain with it now.


    An attack for every slur my uncle had spat at me since boyhood. A block for every insult to my mother. A cut for every village boy¡¯s cruelty, a bruise for every glare leveled by old Nagaishi women. Now my past wounds opened up, unburied by years. New and angry.


    And still, my uncle chased me, calculating every physical advantage and delivering every blow with perfect accuracy. Many were his advantages. Weight. Height. Training and experience as well as every seed of psychological weakness he had planted in me over my lifetime, but not every advantage.


    He must have noticed the assembly of his men¡ªmy men, forming a circle around us, closing in by inches with every strike as we circled the fire. He must have heard how they whispered. How their eyes followed the circle of his sword. He saw, yes, and he knew when three unsheathed their weapons at once, that this was not his revolution to command anymore.


    It was mine.

 One Victim

    With a low whistle, I ordered my men to advance on the inn. Twenty men fell on the Shogunate security force standing watch. Twelve crept down from the mountain on the opposite bank of the river. I slipped by alone, in Earth Kumo form, to the bathing pools behind the inn. Lazy, perhaps, my target had already fallen, but he would take the further care only I could give.


    I reached the pools first, assumed human form, and flung the limp sovereign to one side of the pool. Then I brought Furi out of the water and threw a thick cotton robe around her heat-flushed body. I carried her inside the inn, nodding to the rebel-sympathizing keeper, who stood to assist me through the shoji doors to a quiet guest room. There, I laid her down on the futon.


    Slowly, the impact of what she had begun traveled through my mind, flashing and colliding with thoughts and memories until I tingled with equal parts euphoria and regret. It was a wrenching thing to expose Furi to this man¡ªa tyrant who thought it possible to cage an immortal. And yet it had taken so little from her¡­just a drop of her poison.


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    Furi wouldn¡¯t listen to the explanation of our revolutionary plans with disinterest. And I shuddered to think about what she¡¯d already guessed. Uncle Jiro had been right about the risk of telling her the truth, but I was determined to put it to her¡ªto let her choose. She would need to know every wrinkle. I couldn¡¯t let her be surprised. It was hers to accept or reject now, but the weakness of my position wrung my insides.


    It wouldn¡¯t be long now. Intervals of collapse between poisonings were increasingly brief. Soon she would be able to manage a poisoning with barely a blink of her eyes and a nod of her head. And then her danger would magnify tenfold.


    My men dragged Yasuhito¡¯s body out of pool and arranged him on a futon at the opposite side of the inn. He wasn¡¯t dead yet and we depended upon his limited survival. He needed to survive long enough to legitimize our child. I was certain he would.


    Furi was a different matter.

 Prisoner

    Furi¡¯s eyes glared at me like an over bright sun, righteous and accusing. I don¡¯t know how I managed to speak, much less bid her come to me. And anyway, she refused.


    She planted her feet on the tatami. With a prickling of electricity on my skin, I realized that it was time. I touch her¡ªpursue death. New conviction rolled over my tongue with the power of strong sake. I took a step nearer. Only one step.


    We both knew I had used her as a weapon and now she guessed the complexity of my motives and yet, she knew almost nothing. My throat tightened in anticipation of telling her the rest. But I was too weak to do it, and instead, bid her tell me. ¡°You¡¯re angry. Why?¡±


    Her answer was equally evasive. A filmy screen to hide behind. ¡°I am Okugawa¡¯s concubine, if he is surviving,¡± She rested her lethal gaze on my bare feet.


    ¡°He survives. I have examined him myself. But he is sleeping under the influence of an¡­unrecognized poison.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean¡ªunrecognized?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll speak of it later. Right now, you should rest and recover your strength. When you are well¡­ if you are you willing¡­we can talk about his illness.¡± How could I tell her?


    ¡°Not later. Now. Tell me; am I your prisoner?¡±


    ¡°Why would you think that?¡±


    ¡°How could I not be a prisoner? I have poisoned the very heir to the Ruling House throne. And you are no gardener, but a samurai, I would guess. It¡¯s your duty to arrest and execute me at once or betray your Sovereign.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re no prisoner and I would protect you with my army and my own life, if necessary.¡±


    ¡°That necessity is not inconceivable,¡± she said, voice wooden.


    ¡°It won¡¯t come to that.¡±


    ¡°Who are you to make that prediction?¡±


    ¡°I am the head of a revolutionary army. A former conscript and traitor to the Ruling House, but that¡¯s not the betrayal you¡¯re holding against me. It¡¯s more personal than that. Am I right?¡±


    All at once her voice shattered and her shoulders crumbled and the sight of it scalded my eyes.


    ¡°How could you do it? How could you enslave me to Okugawa?¡±


    ¡°Did you agree to it?¡±


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    ¡°The Sovereign said it was done!¡±


    ¡°The sovereign is crumpled in a pile on his death bed! And he was well ahead of himself. You aren¡¯t married, much less his slave. And I beg your forgiveness for allowing him so near you, but we were armed and ready to strike him ourselves. And besides,¡± I added, ¡°you were armed more elegantly than we could ever be.¡±


    ¡°Then you admit it! I¡¯m your weapon!¡±


    I swallowed over my guilt-lacquered tongue, then cleared my throat. ¡°I told you years ago that I could not give you your freedom, but nothing could stop you from taking it yourself if you would. And now I ask you: will you take it?¡±


    ¡°To be Okugawa¡¯s concubine?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you see? I¡¯m talking about a New Otoppon. A rightful and position in a world you will help build yourself. Don¡¯t you want that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I understand what that is.¡±


    I exhaled and withdrew a clean handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Furi. ¡°I once promised to tell you all of my secrets.¡± I drew a quick breath. ¡°Are you ready to hear them now?¡±


    * * *


    ¡°I am Ansei Nagaishi, son of Toyo Nagaishi, late chieftain of the Nagaishi Domain. The last of the rebel clans to sign the Okugawa unification treaty when the Emperor fell and resisters of imperial control.¡±


    ¡°Why have you kept that such a secret?¡±


    ¡°Do you remember the rumors Kiyo confessed on the morning of your arrival at the Nobu castle?¡±


    Furi stammered. ¡°I remember.¡±


    ¡°What did she say about my family?¡±


    ¡°She said they had disowned you.¡±


    ¡°But not why?¡±


    Furi cast her gaze to the floor. ¡°It was your mother¡ªa famed beauty who abandoned you.¡±


    ¡°A beauty? She was a spider! An Earth Kumo warrior who killed my father when he trespassed into her cave.¡±


    Furi¡¯s head swiveled and for a moment, I thought she would faint.


    ¡°It was your mother!¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Your mother! She has been haunting me!¡± Furi dropped her head into her hands. ¡°And you are¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Half Earth Kumo, half mortal.¡±


    She shuddered with what I could only assume was shock, revulsion, or both, and then at once she stilled to a posture of perfect composure.


    ¡°I knew.¡±


    ¡°What did you know?¡±


    ¡°An immortal.¡±


    ¡°I can and will die.¡±


    ¡°It was you at the well. It was you who spoke to my mind in the pool. Your Earth Kumo power that healed me.¡±


    ¡°We have,¡± I cleared my throat, ¡°gifts.¡±


    She lifted her chin, and almost smiled¡ªa reparation, I thought, for having betrayed fear.


    ¡°There¡¯s more to tell,¡± I said. ¡°Will you know it now or is it enough?¡±


    ¡°Continue.¡±


    ¡°All my life, the Nagaishi Clan has been carrying out an underground resistance to the Ruling House. It¡¯s finally come to carry out our plans.¡±


    ¡°Revolution,¡± Furi repeated, and the word fell heavily from her lips.


    ¡°Not like you imagine. This will be a bloodless revolution¡ªand by that, I mean limited mortalities. Almost none, if our plans succeed. But the burden of this feat falls heavily upon a few shoulders.¡±


    I shuddered at the look she turned on me, but forced myself to look at her¡ªto give her the truth.


    ¡°You are the very center of our revolutionary offensive. Everything depends upon you.¡±


    She blinked confusion.


    ¡°You¡¯ve already used me to incapacitate your target. What more can you ask?¡±


    ¡°Much.¡±


    She swallowed.


    ¡°Do you remember when we spoke that night on Madame Ozawa¡¯s veranda? And I said someday I would make a request of you so great, I would have no right to expect you to honor it?¡±


    ¡°I can never forget it. I was so na?ve that I thought I could answer you anything. I understand now the weight of what you then implied.¡±


    ¡°You know a fraction.¡±


    ¡°What else is there?¡±


    My throat closed around the words, but I forced them out. ¡°Will you give the New Otoppon an heir?¡±

 How to...explain?

    ¡°You want me to give birth to Okugawa¡¯s child?¡± Furi¡¯s face was incredulous.


    ¡°Not Okugawa¡¯s.¡± I paused, and closed my eyes for the audacity of my demand. ¡°Mine.¡±


    Furi flinched, but wouldn¡¯t speak.


    ¡°We¡¯ll install our child in place of the Okugawa heir. And Yasuhiro will believe the babe his own. There will be no struggle. No contest. A peaceful transition of power.


    ¡°But our child I wouldn¡¯t be in the line of succession. Yasuhiro has a first wife.¡±


    ¡°His wife is barren. He will have to depend upon you for an heir and he knows it.¡± I closed my hands around her trembling fingers. ¡°It¡¯s your choice.¡±


    ¡°Yasuhiro said I was already his.¡±


    ¡°You are as free as the revolution would make you, to choose your own husband.¡±


    ¡°He might have reason to doubt¡ª¡±


    ¡°He will have no interest in contesting his paternity of our child. Producing an heir is his most urgent business.¡±


    ¡°Am I to live as his wife?¡±


    ¡°But briefly. In his illness, I don¡¯t believe he will long outlive the birth of the child.¡±


    She bit her lip. ¡°How can you possibly be sure he¡¯ll die?¡±


    ¡°Before I followed you to the Ozawa mill, I was a samurai at Western Capital. I also studied with the Emperor¡¯s private physician. I¡¯m trained in clinical and theoretical medicine. My particular expertise is poison¡ªyours. He will die.¡±


    I watched this intelligence take hold of her. Emotions played across her face and body as legibly as a calligraphy scroll and more movingly. I felt everything. Her disbelief. Her horror¡­euphoria¡­amazement¡­and ultimately¡­her repulsion. She had circled around to the inescapable conclusion: I was after all, only half mortal, and an Earth Kumo at that. There could be only one end for me.


    ¡°You will let me go if I choose it?¡±


    My mouth hardened. ¡°On my honor, I will let you go, though it would frustrate a decade of planning and the underpinnings of the entire revolution¡­and,¡± I swallowed. ¡°And wound me more than I can say.¡±


    She scoffed at this. ¡°I had better wound than kill you.¡±


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    ¡°I had much rather die than let you give up on me now.¡±


    ¡°How can you say that?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t always. I never expected to. I¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡± I sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t speak it.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t. I could never¡ª¡±


    ¡°Furi¡ªthere¡¯s a language only our bones know.¡±


    She raised her palm.


    I took a step nearer. ¡°When you come close enough, my bones will speak to yours.¡±


    Her lips parted, and I felt her breath in my face. ¡°You won¡¯t understand the language in your head, but you will in the soft hollows of your own bones.¡± My hand found her shoulders, my fingertips, trembling, traced the fine line of her collar bone. ¡°You¡¯ll know the sum of my life. Its beginning and its end and you¡¯ll feel your own place there and how if you don¡¯t hear¡ªif you don¡¯t answer back again in only that language¡ªyou¡¯ll have let my life fall away wasted.¡±


    She pulled away a fraction.


    ¡°Furi. Let me tell you a story I think you may be interested to hear. It is about your father and mother, and not long, but I must preface it with this, and I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°I am listening,¡± she said, and she knelt at the kotatsu.


    I knelt beside her and began, ¡°You were raised by cynical, low people. They despised themselves and taught you to do the same.¡±


    ¡°I suppose they did. What bearing does that have?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you why you won¡¯t believe what I¡¯m about to say.¡±


    ¡°What will you say? My mother is the moon?¡±


    ¡°That is not far from the truth. Remember the Princess¡¯s nickname for you?¡±


    ¡°What? Orihime?¡±


    ¡°Orihime is your mother, The Weaver of the Gods.¡±


    She closed her eyes in disappointment.


    I sighed. ¡°If you cannot accept that, you should also reject the explanation of my parentage.¡±


    And with those words, I pinned her with her own hypocrisy. She had willingly believed me a god and yet could not accept the same explanation of her origins. Her breathing came sharp and labored, but she replied in a wordless answer into my mind. ¡°I believe you.¡±


    ¡°You are unlike her other daughters, and there are many. Near the time of your conception, your father and mother had enemies¡ªgods, jealous of their love. These combined to thwart your parents¡¯ already rare meetings by sending floods of rain on the seventh lunar month. This went on for some time, and your mother began to despair. In her desperation, she made an ally of The Earth Kumo, who for their part, had no prior access to the Skies.


    ¡°Orihime gave you to my mother, to be your godmother, and blessed you with her defenses. She made you the only of Orihime¡¯s daughters to carry a few of my mother¡¯s traits. Your mother never regretted the poison for your sake. She believed you would become a magnificent weaver and change the power balance in the immortal realm.¡±


    It was a strange tale, and yet not strange. Her acceptance washed a flood of emotions to the surface. ¡°What it must have been to know your mother,¡± she whispered.


    I winced at this saying. It would be the best luck possible if Furi never knew my mother. I cleared my throat. ¡°That is how you became the Nagaishi Clan¡¯s hope, but also crucial ally to the Earth Kumo¡ªif you will accept. And though you don¡¯t know your mother, you were always known and loved.¡± I paused without a breath. ¡°I spent much of my childhood watching you.¡±


    She gasped, ¡°And that somehow negates all the harm I will do to you?¡±


    ¡°It gives whatever harm there is purpose. It gives me hope for meeting you again.¡±


    Furi turned away. ¡°I can¡¯t listen to you sitting there, persuading me to kill you!¡±

 Debate

    We wasted eighteen hours debating the consequences of our union while Okugawa lay upon his futon in a stupor. He would not awaken without the help of an antidote I had developed. It would not cure him, but it would extend his life. And this was the nearest thing to a compromise we could come to.


    ¡°You have a partial antidote. Couldn¡¯t you improve it?¡±


    ¡°Furi, you may not think I care to preserve a life with you, but I do. I have spent every spare moment of my past trying to develop a complete antidote. All my efforts have failed. I don¡¯t think it can be done.¡±


    ¡°But you haven¡¯t given up,¡± She said, her pitch rising.


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    ¡°No. But to be honest, I believe further pursuit of a cure would waste valuable time and distract us from what is most important.¡±


    She gasped in disbelief, ¡°What could be more important than saving your life?¡±


    ¡°Furi, you are an immortal. I will only die once. Time only, keeps us apart. We will always return to one another. Your parents do the same. Besides,¡± I added hesitantly, ¡°an extraordinary child¡¯s life is at stake.¡±


    ¡°But we might grow our space for happiness. We might raise a child together.¡±


    ¡°We all fall to the demands of nature, Furi.¡±


    ¡°Nature is cruel.¡±


    ¡°Not cruel. Stark. Remorseless in its demands. But beautiful in its extremes.¡±


    ¡°If our roles were reversed, would you be so ready to take my life?¡±


    I conceded the point. ¡°I don¡¯t know whether I would be able to do it at all. And I won¡¯t force you,¡± I set my jaw. ¡°But this is no trifling thing for me. I will use everything in my power¡ªevery seduction¡ªto turn you to me.¡±

 Solution

    ¡°Do you remember that night when we first talked under the eaves?¡± Furi asked.


    ¡°How can I forget? You nearly knocked me off the veranda, I was so surprised to find you there watching me.¡±


    ¡°That seems fair, considering.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°You talked about my parents¡¯ love story.¡±


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    ¡°Ahh,¡± I sighed. ¡°The records.¡±


    ¡°How far is the journey?¡±


    ¡°A fair distance. Mountainous. And dangerous.¡±


    She paused, waiting to see if I would offer.


    ¡°You want to go.¡±


    She averted her eyes. Knew I wouldn¡¯t like the idea. ¡°The journey is full of risks, and it would delay my resuming work on the anti-venom.¡±


    She nodded her agreement with this. The antidote to her poison was all-important. An antidote was unlikely, however. A stab of guilt twisted in my gut for raising Furi¡¯s hopes on that score. But the records¡ªthe records lay at a perilous elevation well beyond the reaches of the Spirit Garden, where jorogumo hunted freely from human and beast who ventured near. I didn¡¯t like to go alone, and liked even less the idea of taking Furi there.

 House

    We journeyed to a small house that I had leased outside of Western Capital. Its owner had been a pharmacist, now retired, and the house had a small apothecary adjacent to the living quarters, where I would resume working on an antidote to my mother¡¯s poison.


    The house was nothing¡ªa small, spare cottage with very little space. But the garden, even in its wild, overgrown state, was paradise. Together, we spent happy hours working there. As long as we worked, we preserved a smooth veneer of contentment, but it was surface deep. Any relaxation¡ªany rest at all¡ªbrought us into conflict.


    It seemed so perverse that after spending half of my life terrified of Furi¡ªeven the idea of her¡ªthat I should seek her now and come away rejected. In the evening, when returning from the apothecary, I would find the house abandoned, the garden deserted. For a woman who could not shift forms, she hid herself marvelously well.


    After returning from a spring bath, slathered in sandalwood oil¡ªan aphrodisiac¡ªI would find the lamps extinguished and Furi sprawled on her futon, long asleep. And then I¡¯d return to the apothecary and curl up in a corner on a thin futon.


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    I killed dozens of rats with my mother¡¯s poison and my best attempts at resuscitating them ultimately failed. One lived three days past poisoning. It was a triumph, and I made the mistake of telling Furi that I might be close. She ran away in a flood of toxic tears that withered three of the sapling pines we had planted together when I told her of its death.


    I was running out of time. Yasuhiro would die soon, and the Okugawa line would designate a successor. I redoubled my efforts in the apothecary, but there were other measures. I had promised Furi persuasion, and hadn¡¯t quite given up on it.


    * * *


    After our arrival, I had given Furi the only bedroom in the tiny house, a simple room with a tatami floor and shoji doors. Several cabinets lined one wall. I offered all of them to her, excepting one.


    ¡°This one is my private cupboard.¡± I gestured to a narrow rosewood cabinet. ¡°I would keep it private, but it has no key and would rather trust you than lock it up.¡±


    She returned an untroubled smile. ¡°I have few possessions. I see no reason to invade your private storage.¡±


    I acknowledged her promise, but hoped she would break it.

 Tension

    Even having set down the truth of the revolution and my uncle¡¯sambition for a bloodless transfer of power, I couldn¡¯t shake the guilt of having deceived Furi.


    But how did a man reveal himself to a woman beginning with the worst of himself? If he approached a woman post battle, covered with gore and begging?


    I¡¯d ridden the tension between honesty and persuasion closely enough to win her conditional acceptance. But there was the rub. Furi had insisted upon binding limitations on our marriage contract. Honesty had earned me only this limited acceptance. And this conditionality was gradually strangling the life out of me. And there was no blaming Furi, nor was there any moving her.


    Furi had known repression¡ªbut that wasn¡¯t it. Repression was for victims, and Furi set all the boundaries herself. She wasn¡¯t repressing. She was self-disciplined beyond calculation. What became increasingly clear was that she could hold me at a distance forever.


    I couldn¡¯t seduce her, couldn¡¯t reason her into loving me. I couldn¡¯t lie¡ªnot now. I had no leverage, had given her everything.


    I worked for an antidote, but this was a problem demanding many years of work. Decades perhaps. I couldn¡¯t offer Furi any more than false hopes that an antidote would resuscitate me, but it became one more frontier where deception tempted me.


    Deception and my mother.


    I could never hide any shame from my mother, not even as a dismissed bridegroom. I flushed when she appraised my failures with her eight probing eyes.


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    ¡°You did well to be honest with Furi, but your courtship is a farce.¡±


    ¡°What am I supposed to do? She won¡¯t look at me.¡±


    ¡°Of course, she won¡¯t. You¡¯ve been the honorable one and told her everything. She might have been more willing to kill you if you hadn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t discuss this with you. And remember you approved my decision to tell her.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but you might let her be angry with you over something. I know you can be provocative. Provoke her.¡±


    ¡°You think I can irritate her into killing me? She¡¯s Orihime¡¯s daughter, not yours.¡±


    ¡°Certainly. I don¡¯t claim to have all the answers. But I am familiar with a doomed situation. And I know how they work. Matters never improve. Think of an answer. You¡¯re an Earth Kumo¡¯s son. You have a million traps at your disposal.¡±


    ¡°I should trap her? After all that honesty?¡±


    ¡°A trap is honest when executed by an Earth Kumo. What else can she expect? You¡¯re inventing boundaries, Ansei. And at this moment, I am ashamed of you.¡±


    ¡°Mother. You had best leave us to find our own solution. Remember what happened when you last handled matters?¡± It was bold to throw this back at Riyo, but so was her appearance here.


    ¡°I mean what I say, Ansei. You are Earth Kumo. And ultimately, it is this nature that dictates your course. Be who you are. Don¡¯t imagine a marriage to Furi makes you more human, or any less mortal. The child is all important. Your life is secondary. Time is closing in on you anyway. Have the child or you will have nothing!¡±


    There was truth in what my mother said, but it was always these partial truths that were cropping up to harass and confound me. I was Earth Kumo, yes, but not only that. The complexity of my identity was always trailing behind me, biting my heels, and making me a fool. I couldn¡¯t be both human and Earth Kumo immortal. The two were irreconcilable creatures. And I couldn¡¯t escape the suspicion that I would be at war with myself to the end of my life and quite possibly beyond.

 Unrest

    I¡¯d spent the first half of the night defending myself (and Furi) from my mother¡¯s helpful advice and the second half poisoning rats in the apothecary. At dawn, I tied up loose ends within doors, then let myself out to the garden. The season was getting on and the trees had filled out and now provided good shade from a blistering sun. I stretched out under the broad boughs of a fig tree to take my first sleep in almost two days.


    Mine was not a restful sleep. Dreams aggravated. Light penetrated my lids, always illuminating Furi, hiding deep within some secret grotto¡ªforcing a confrontation neither of us was ready for. She shrank away from me and the sense of her fear filled the air like a cold vapor that distilled a film of sweat over my brow and the back of my neck. At last, I realized I had transformed into my Earth Kumo self, but was perversely disproportioned. I towered over Furi¡¯s cowering form, eight eyes glaring and breath menacing.


    And then time¡ªbreath, movement stopped. Matter reorganized¡ªnot my size and form¡ªbut Furi¡¯s posture. She crept toward me¡­one step, then another, defying fear, indifferent to my hideous shape and enormous scale. At last she reached up with one soft, warm hand. Brushing my swollen and bristled face with her fingers, she planted a breathy kiss on under one eye. My lids flickered, and at once I was there, in human, beneath the plum tree and Furi above me. Unafraid. Willing. My hand found the soft flesh of her navel and for an instant I held her, and whispered, ¡°I thought you were a dream.¡±


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    Then at once her flesh turned cold and she jerked back.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to wake you.¡±


    I dropped my hands at once, and she stepped back. But I closed the distance again. Pulling her close, I spoke through a throat rigid with tension, ¡°Furi. I¡¯ve been waiting for you since we were children.¡±


    I sent her the images from my memory. Myself, a raw-boned boy, standing at the edge of the Ishiyama farm. Furi sitting beneath the eaves, eating that bitter-skinned apple I had given her. The sting of pine salve upon her damaged neck. My voice in her ear pleading for her to wait.


    The torment of indecision played out across her eyes and mouth. And I wanted to take everything back, but couldn¡¯t.


    Resisting, she whispered back, ¡°I cannot be the cause of your death, Ansei.¡±


    ¡°Should I cling to my own life and not give way for a child?¡±


    ¡°How will I stand it when you are gone, and at my own hands?¡±


    ¡°You will destroy me all the same, and waste my life rather than spend it.¡±


    It was several minutes of impasse before I released her, and I went away from the garden over a pathway toward a neighboring wood.

 Woven

    During all of the midnight hours of the previous fortnight, and suffocating under the resentment of my failures with herbal medicine, my frustration over our indefinitely deferred love rite, I discovered art. Not art as Furi produced it, but with my own medium and in my own way.


    I wove Furi a dress. In the end, it was a disappointment. The work was too personal for me to confess it to her, and, I decided, finished without the skill I had hoped for when I began the attempt. I wouldn¡¯t give it to Furi but slipped it into my cabinet. I would show it to her someday, if I could raise the courage, or if she was determined to find it on her own, then so be it. The cabinet was open.


    All this was decided, and then our conflict escalated to that stilted garden confrontation. I couldn¡¯t stay in the house as an object of pressure and torment to Furi. Abandoning the house and Furi in that way was little better, however. I had given way to anger and defeat. Both emotions crowded in my mind, clouding thought and frustrating decision. I couldn¡¯t force the situation. Had already undeceived her, but somewhere between my dual nature of humanity and arachnid, a possible solution presented itself.


    I stayed aloof for days, never far away, only distancing myself to see what Furi would do. It didn¡¯t take long for her to put aside concerns of privacy. Just as well, though I shrank a bit to watch her judge my weaving handiwork. Whatever my limitations, it looked well on her. The dress fit like a second skin. But my filaments were meant to wrap and never unwrap. There was the difficulty. The dress¡¯s removal would take time, procedure, and a salve only I knew how to apply.


    * * *


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    She met me at the genkan, and I stopped at the sight of her. My pulse elevated, eyes dilated, blood poured into my large motor muscles. Any child would run, but a man couldn¡¯t. I stood immobile.


    She lifted her chin, mounting a dignity that exceeded everything, both Earth Kumo or human, I had ever seen. My knees almost collapsed beneath me.


    ¡°Was this what you meant when you said you would use every technique of persuasion?¡±


    I cleared my tightened throat. ¡°It wasn¡¯t quite fair; I admit. And some day I might be capable of feeling shame for having resorted to it.¡±


    ¡°You asked me not to open your cabinet. I see why now. Once having seen your work, I was hypnotized.


    ¡°I can sympathize with the feeling. I must say; I wove it precisely, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°You made it well. I cannot get out of it.¡± she said, tugging at the seam.


    ¡°Nor will you be able to,¡± I paused, ¡°without help.¡± Then I stopped short of her, waiting for her consent.


    She sighed, ¡°What does a cornered moth say? I am your prey.¡± She made this concession, but not without bitterness, and it disarmed me. I couldn¡¯t look at her again. When I spoke, my voice was cold. ¡°We have one chance. I won¡¯t spend it this way.¡±


    She groaned, ¡°I don¡¯t know how to navigate this path.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°It was my mistake. I will free you, but I am afraid it will take a little time, and it will be difficult for both of us.¡±


    * * *


    If she had asked me again, I would have handed her my life, but the trap was unfair, and she never spoke another word.


    Furi remained behind closed indoors, crying the floods she had forced back during the night, while I took my revenge on what remained of the dress next morning, swallowing the fibers like rice. Over this bitter repast, I mulled over the events of the past month. Finally, I decided.


    We¡¯d failed¡­I¡¯d failed. It was time to acknowledge and move forward. My uncle would need to have my report. My brothers from the outer yard needed to prepare for battle. I would join them outside of Western Capital. Sadly, I was sure the Earth Kumo would not.

 Journey

    We met in the garden. Furi¡¯s gaze caught mine and both of us shuddered. I sensed every vibration, read every thought as though it traveled across an invisible thread stretching taut between us. She read me similarly, and although it forged a mutual sympathy, it couldn¡¯t meld us together.


    My mouth opened as though to speak, but I couldn¡¯t verbalize, and instead I sent the words into her mind. ¡°I am going.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


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    ¡°To the capital. To my army.¡±


    ¡°Not to war!¡±


    My gaze dropped to the ground. ¡°I don¡¯t know what will remain of the revolution. Perhaps there will be a blood war, but perhaps not. Either way, I¡¯ll report tomorrow.¡±


    Tears filled her eyes, and she was forced to hide from me again until she could control the poisonous flood.


    * * *


    At last, she emerged, dry-eyed and with a proposition. ¡°Ansei, I won¡¯t forbid your returning to your army. But I will ask you to delay a little while.¡±


    She would have perceived my desperation for any excuse, any compromise by which I could justify staying. ¡°Tell me what you want.¡±


    ¡°Take me to the records.¡±

 Yamato Mountain

    Dusk had fallen. The husk of a moon floated above the horizon as we departed the house. We would take the peasant roads, a weather-ruined, but largely unsurveilled passages where none would stop to take notice of us.


    I wore a linen robe over trousers. She wore the same¡ªmy clothing, and she nearly disappeared inside of its folds. She¡¯d had to alter them before departure and had managed a rather hasty job of it. No doubt the seams chaffed, wearing thin her skin in intimate places.


    She was unused to travel and vigorous movement, and quickly fatigued as we passed over the ruts of the roads. A high mountain pass loomed beyond the hills against the eastern horizon. This range, our destination.


    We continued on, through the night and into a blinding sunrise the following morning until reaching the woods atop the hills. There, we made camp and ate a breakfast of dried fish and salt vegetables. We had passed the long night in almost complete silence, of necessity, because the streets still teamed with strangers and we didn¡¯t wish to expose ourselves either by voice or accent. It didn¡¯t matter. All necessary communication passed between us with a gentle nudge or knowing look.


    Once beyond frequent travelers, it was safe enough to stop and rest. I spoke aloud, ¡°Let me look at your feet.¡±


    Furi glared, but at last averted her eyes. An apparent concession. I removed her sandals and took her feet into my hands. Blisters had formed across the tops and at the heals of her feet, but had long ruptured, and bled. Now puss was forming. And stink.


    ¡°They¡¯re bad,¡± I whispered. ¡°You should have told me. I might have prevented this. The remaining journey is difficult. And they¡¯ll¡­¡±


    ¡°Hamper our progress,¡± she finished for me, tugging her foot against my hold.


    ¡°I was going to say, take time to heal.¡± I held her feet with one hand and with the other began applying a salve. ¡°I will never understand your inclination to suffer silently alone rather than ask me for what you need and you know I would happily supply.¡±


    But I did understand. Wordlessly, I read her stiffness and perceived her preference for his cold scolding to the warmth of my touch. And I fell silent and handed her a neat fold of clean bandages. She finished the dressing herself while I turned my attention elsewhere, a little way apart. We nursed our own wounds separately, as the sun rose high above our shelter beneath the trees.


    At dusk, we resumed our journey, though more slowly, in deference to her injured feet. She never complained, but every couple of miles, I found reasons to stop. To inspect a milestone or refill our flasks at a well. And so, we progressed over the foothills and toward the mountain range beyond.


    By morning, we had mounted high into the hills where the forest thrived. Trees encroached upon our narrow path, craggy roots exposed above the earth and draped with moss. I recognized the place we were approaching, and I had to press through the foreboding instinct planted in my psyche from early childhood during haunting journeys at my mother¡¯s heels.


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    I paused as the path disappeared through a natural tunnel beneath the thick treelimbs arcing above us. Foliage admitted the slightest slivers of light. Tightly woven vines and roots would force our passage more by feel than by sight.


    I sought her gaze.


    ¡°We¡¯re here. The outskirts of the Spirit Garden.¡±


    It was called a garden, though it grew completely wild, and as its name implied, was famed for mysticism.


    ¡°Have you been here before?¡±


    ¡°Not since I was a child.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t really believe it haunted?¡± she whispered.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to believe it. I know it.¡± My eyes cautioned hers. I didn¡¯t need to warn her to stay close. She willingly laced her fingers through my hand, our blood¡¯s motion beat palpably from our breasts through its pathway inside our entangled thumbs.


    ¡°Haunted by who?¡±


    I swallowed over a tightened throat. ¡°Our own cousins¡ªthe jorogumo.¡±


    ¡°The spider demons are only legend.¡±


    ¡°Like your parents are legends. And yet, your effect on me has always been so material.¡± I closed my hand tightly around hers and leaned down, planting a kiss on her left earlobe.


    ¡°You have seen them?¡± She whispered.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not teasing?¡±


    ¡°No, I am not. And if you would rather not go on, I¡¯ll return with you to the house without another word.¡±


    She exhaled, ¡°No. We may as well die by jorogumo as anything.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say it,¡± I whispered. ¡°They were the terror of my childhood. I wouldn¡¯t dream of daring this forest without your having begged it of me.¡±


    She peered at me and I thought I almost detected the failure of her resolve, but no. She took a breath and gave a quick nod of decision. After a brief pause for rest, we pressed toward the shadows, the tunnel swallowing us to blackness within seconds.


    In a short stretch of path, we learned to move together. I lifted her atop my feet. She carried her own weight, but received my every physical signal. Knees. Pelvis. Hands. Shoulders. She answered every nudge, every breath on her neck, with movement and momentum of her own¡ªreplying with pressure, and occasionally, urgency, when I should conform to her. We fused, efficient and reflexive. Slowly, our strides lengthened, our movement became unhampered. Fluid as water.


    Roots and branches reached and clung, ripped and clawed. We adjusted. A nest of bats stormed across our faces, screaming and beating. We coiled together¡ªFuri nesting her face beneath my chin. Foxes cried. Owls called. It came faintly, but I shuddered at the tremor of throaty laughter bursting from demon lungs. The jorogumo. Furi had heard it, too and I couldn¡¯t fully suppress the shock of horror the demons inspired.


    Vaguely, time crept its way into awareness. Fatigue threatened to overtake us both, but I pressed forward, unrelenting until the branches broke again to light.


    When the trees finally parted, it was not to bright day, but to the quiet light of dusk. I had not realized the sun had sunk so low toward the horizon. We had been moving in the darkness more efficiently as one body than we had individually all morning. We fell, exhausted to the ground. Mouths parted. Lungs heaving.


    A sense of catharsis overtook me and my breathing escalated. In the next moment we were both laughing, arms encircling one another, exulting in life we had both been so ready to throw away.


    We sobered quickly. In cooperation, our bodies had held so much tension that once easing, fatigue spoke and we slipped to sleep. Although we had escaped the darkest forest I had ever seen before or since, we couldn¡¯t outdistance the moon. And by then, we were too exhausted for vigilance.

 Jorogumo

    With one blink, I realized that I¡¯d awakened alone beside the trail. Furi had disappeared. I lifted my head and suppressed a groan. Every muscle protested as I climbed back on my feet. I scanned the clearing and the narrow path where we had dropped to the ground in exhaustion.


    I found the moon and judged the night to be half spent. Surprising, because it meant I had slept an hour beyond my typical interval, having done so soundly, and so exposed to night predators.


    The white light of the moon shed itself over the dark relief of the forest, volunteering itself as a live witness. It¡¯s light, a testimony against the forests¡¯ veneer of harmlessness. I believed the moon, but although the Spirit Garden delivered me to the lap of the jorogumo demons, I took heart. I didn¡¯t expect the jorogumos¡¯ cooperative strength. They were too jealous of one another for that. A lone demon, I could overpower, certainly with Furi¡¯s help.


    I filled my lungs and pressed my way into the black recess, cautious not to call out, and awaken additional demons who might attack me before I could reach the one who was luring Furi.


    The forest was alive with echo, scratch and hiss, but a vacuum of light. I couldn¡¯t see, but felt the tremors of waiting, and feeding, alternating with feeding and waiting that lurked within that hollow of black and purple. Something stirred, and I raised my hands, catching hair and flesh. And then a great shriek of violence and a lashing of hands against mine. And then Furi fell into my arms, screaming in a waking dream, ¡°She¡¯s a demon! A demon!¡¯


    ¡°Furi, Furi! I have you!¡± I shook her and called her from the fog that had enveloped her.


    She stopped struggling. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°You were walking in your sleep. You returned to the forest.¡±


    She gasped, ¡°I saw a woman!¡±


    ¡°A jorogumo! She was entrapping you¡ªand ultimately me. We have to go now, before she can reach us again!¡±


    ¡°She was so, so¡ªreal.¡±


    ¡°Deadly real,¡± I whispered. ¡°Can you run?¡±


    We pressed on, and this time, when we finally passed through the arched border of the trees, we didn¡¯t pause. We continued our upward climb over the pass.


    Adrenalin and the haunting idea of a jorogumo goading us upward, against wind and the groaning weakness of flesh and bone. And when Furi began to tire, I unburdened her of her bedroll. At last when she could go no further, I lifted her up onto my back and carried her for a stretch.


    * * *


    A day and a night passed before we ascended the height of the pass. I watched the miles and the shape of the range transform as we ascended their heights. And at last, the shape of the land formations I knew emerged, and I saw that we were close. I nodded to Furi to wait for me while I left the trail, climbing up a rough cliff. As I cleared an overhanging ledge, I saw it.


    We had reached the caves.


    I descended again and found Furi nursing her swollen and blistered feet. ¡°We¡¯re not far away now. You cannot see the cave from here, but it lies behind that bulge in the rock face. Do you think you can make it?¡±


    She couldn¡¯t answer audibly, but stood and began her way up the rock face, determined to make an attempt.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°My people were climbers, but your people are not. Let me carry you.¡±


    ¡°I can make it,¡± she insisted. ¡°Let me try.¡±


    I had little choice but to relent. Carrying another person up so sheer a climb was near impossible, even for me. I climbed up ahead in hopes that I could lower a rope and lift her up over the bulge. Slowly, she forced her body up to the craggy volcanic surface of the rock, but her muscles trembled and melted into throbbing deadweight. No matter how she might will them to climb, they refused to continue. She could hold herself immobile for a little while, but eventually, if I didn¡¯t hurry, she would lose her grip.


    I transformed and scrambled up the remaining length of the climb, desperate to find a rope waiting at the top of the ledge. Quickly, I anchored the rope on a boulder and lowed the knotted section of down the rock face.


    At last, she latched on and I hauled her up by inches, finally clamping my palms over her sweat-bathed arms and pulling her safe into the cave recess. She collapsed against me, both of us could no more than breathe. At last, I took her by the shoulders and shifted her upward a half inch to rest snugly against my chest.


    There we rested, Furi cradled in my arms in defiance of the mortal danger she meant to me. We had never been quite this close. My breath escalated rather than steadied. My pulse galloped against my lungs, but I bent my head and closed my mouth over hers in not only a kiss, but the relentless extraction of a promise.


    * * *


    After surmounting so many natural barriers to its doorstep, the mouth of the cave opened wide and welcoming, flanked by a heavy, round wooden door, stabilized by a groove cut along the threshold. The door was not only well constructed, but ornamented with a skillful carving of a river landscape.


    I set to work at the mouth of the cave, making a small fire. Once it was lit, I dampened some oil cloth and tied it to my staff for a torch, lit it, and we entered inside.


    This place was the cave of our ancients¡ªnot only Earth Kumo immortals, but all the immortal beings who passed life intervals upon this region of the earth. And they always left records of their days, and more. Knowing other immortals would come, they had carved out a civilized habitation for them. For us.


    We stared at the refinement all around. Domestic comforts of every kind. Tatami covered rooms. Carved shelves. tables of stone and hardened earth. A water basin. A proper kitchen. Someone had perfected the ventilation by a system of thin grooves, carved in the rock.


    Furi stared in awe at the sight of such marvelous industry, no doubt marveling over the patience and skill it had taken to accomplish all this. But she didn¡¯t know what was coming.


    We crept through a narrow tunnel that opened up into a broad natural cavern. At its mouth, Furi gasped as the torch¡¯s glow cut the darkness and the cavern shimmered in glittering reply. The walls throughout the vast expanse were jeweled with crystals. Amethyst. Gypsum. Quartz.


    Fitted between the stones, on shelves in the rock walls, stood volume upon volume of hand-bound histories.


    ¡°This is the library?¡± Furi could scarcely catch her breath for surprise. She pointed to a column of shelves. ¡°The histories are set into the wall between the mineral deposits.¡±


    I lifted the torch to examine the spines of the histories. The copies dated back several thousand years from our time.


    She reached and pulled a book from the shelf. ¡°Look at it.¡± She hugged the volume to her already exhausted body. She could hardly hold it, and I helped her lift it back atop a shelf.


    ¡°All true,¡± I whispered, ¡°Within this cavern we had no politics to offend. No ideology to conform to. The great indulgence of a secret library is perfect honesty. You will never read anything more faithful.¡±


    She caressed the spine on the shelf. ¡°Where are my mother and fathers¡¯ journals?¡±


    ¡°They were more recent than these,¡± I said, examining the shelves. ¡°It may take some looking.¡±


    Most of the spines were neatly labeled with ancient characters. I found the volume, even while Furi stood awestruck by the sight of the cavern. ¡°I could never have imagined a place like this.¡±


    I let my gaze drop. ¡°I should have brought you here at once.¡±


    ¡°Yes. But you have at last. Thank you.¡±


    I wordlessly reached for the volume and surrendered it to her.


    She shook her head and pressed it back against my chest. ¡°Read my father¡¯s account to me.


    * * *


    I began reading, but it wasn¡¯t long before Furi asked me for privacy. I thought I understood. It was her first real introduction to her father and mother, and whatever literary barriers she might encounter due to her lack of formal schooling, she needed to struggle through them alone.


    I left her the light and crept back to the front of the cave, finding my way with my fingers on the polished rock walls. I stretched and ate a little dried fish and rice cake before lying down upon my bed and returning to the memory of Furi¡¯s mouth against mine.