He waited until the animal gave its final breath. Then, as if making a signal, his horse snorted, took a step.
She looked up. “What areyoudoing here?” Suddenly she rose, and for a moment Sen thought she would attack him too, but then she stopped, and stammered, “Beg pardon, ame’in. I-I didn’t realize…” The red of her hair seemed to change in the fading light, falling in waves from the clasp that held it back. Her eyes met his – a flash of brown, nearly hazel – then she looked away. She bowed again.
“It’s okay,” Sen said. “Come, get up. It’s fine.”
She rose as she’d been ordered, but stood there staring at the ground. And as so often in his life, Sen found himself floating, with a million things to think, and nothing at all to say.
At last he took a cautious step forward.
“Don’t come here,” she said, suddenly harsh.
He slowed. “You know this place?”
“Kijin don’t come here.” Her voice was barely loud enough for him to hear.Kijin, he thought.Warriors.
“I’m – sorry,” he said. It felt so foolish; it felt as though he had no other words. “I meant, just that it… it didn’t deserve to die.”
“No, it didn’t.” He felt she was watching him coldly, judging him for the behavior of the monks.
“I can send someone,” he offered. “For the serow. Our monks will come…ourmonks. We’ll give it a burial…”
She nodded, but it was as if agreement meant something different for her, as if it was another kind of pain. He wanted to know why. But when she drew herself up, he saw she had blood on her, from where she’d sat with the serow, in the sand; it stained her fingers. She held her hands out, seeing the blood as he did, then brought them together behind her.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted you, lord ame’in,” she murmured, as if remembering her place.
Sen said uncertainly, “It’s all right.”
Her eyes flicked to the dead serow once again. She bowed quickly, begrudgingly.She’s not supposed to be talking to someone of my status, he realized.
“Lord Hoshiakari, I apologize for causing such a scene,” she said.
He blinked. “You know my name?”
She merely bowed again, and when she did, he caught a glimpse of the stone she had on a string about her neck, a small, curved bead of jade.
It was exactly like his own.
Instantly her deep-chestnut hair reminded him of something. What was it? A flash of red, a small hand on his, a bamboo rice-cask and a farmer’s hut at night, so long ago. When his family had died, the no’in town…
“Wait,” he called. “What’s your name?”
“Rui,” she said. “Misosazai Rui.” And hurried off.
“Wait,” Sen called again, but by the time he reached the treeline, she was already gone, and he was alone with the dead animal, the silent echo pond, and the whisper of the leaves.
The jade was a Gensei clan jewel, he knew. His family’s jewel.How does she have one?
When he got back to his horse, he found that somehow he had the creature’s blood on him as well. His arm still ached where the red-robed monk had grabbed it, and now, looking at the serow’s blood, frustration rose in him again. He could still smell the sour stink of the monk’s breath, still hear the danger and the threat in his voice.
Sen felt a spike of unease. He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew that something important had changed that afternoon. He’d seen how the expression on the strange monk’s face had hardened; he hadn’t appeared a haughty old man anymore, but something sharper, something far more dangerous. He’d looked up at them with suspicion, turned, and lowered his head, shuffling down the path toward the trail and the old road that would lead him to Kitano.
They’ll come for you, prince, he’d said, strange light gleaming in his eyes.
I know who you are.
CHAPTERTHREE
Yora
