Dragon Sword and Wind Child (14 page)

She hid in the nearby bushes and stared at the gate for a while, but finally turned away, realizing that even if she stayed here all night, there was nothing she could do. It would be impossible to sneak in without some sort of plan. Cursing herself for her lack of foresight, Saya had retraced her steps to the hedge in the garden near the handmaidens' quarters when she suddenly froze in her tracks. Someone else was moving about without a light in the middle of the night. And there was more than one.

Have they seen me?
she wondered.

For the first time that night she felt the cold sweat of fear, and she concealed herself under the hedge, pulling her cloak about her. The figures in the darkness continued on, however, showing no sign of looking for someone. Soon they stopped and gathered together to perform some task. It was not hard for Saya to guess what they were doing. The dry scraping sound of a bucket and the muffled sound of water deep underground echoed in the stillness of the night. A well. They were gathered around a well and were drawing water with awkward, jerky movements. To judge from their laborious efforts and their shapes, they were quite old. Curious, Saya drew a little closer, following along the hedge. As she had suspected, they were three old, hunchbacked women.

They poured the water into an earthenware jar until one of them whispered hoarsely, “That's enough. It's overflowing.”

“Oh, already?” another exclaimed in surprise, dropping the bucket to the bottom of the well with a loud clatter.

“The water of the star well must not be carelessly wasted.”

“It was just a little.”

Yet another of the women gave a deep sigh. “Hasn't Her Highness returned?”

“Not yet. Tonight we must carry the water.”

“Won't she come back?” the woman lamented. “It seems to me that we are not equal to the task at our age. It's difficult for these old bones to climb those steps.”

“I wonder if the one within will struggle tonight.”

“Those bonds cannot possibly be broken. Her Highness has tied them with great care.”

“But still . . .”

“The poor thing. Our blindness is a blessing.”

One of the women picked up the water jar. “Well, the water is drawn. It's time to go to the shrine.”

Saya's heart began to pound violently. These old women must be the handmaidens who were permitted to enter the shrine with Princess Teruhi. Although she was amazed to see anyone so aged and decrepit within the palace, she was even more surprised that all three of them were blind. The very existence of such women came as a shock, for she had grown used to the fact that all the inhabitants of the palace down to the lowest servant were perfect in face and form. Whether the old women had lost their sight in order to be allowed to enter the shrine or had been specially selected because of their blindness, she did not know, but it was obvious that the shrine was extraordinarily sacrosanct.

Staring after them as they returned to their quarters tapping their canes along the ground, Saya racked her brains.

How can I get in?

A SHORT WHILE LATER
the old women reappeared. This time all three were wrapped in long white shroudlike garments. The cloth covered their heads, and a fold at the front concealed even their faces. Only their canes protruded from the front of their garments. They looked like white pillars of cloth feeling their way along. Darkness made no difference to them. From the confidence in their steps, Saya suspected that they had walked this path for countless decades. When she saw that the procession was heading for the wooden gate out of the garden, she crept under the bottom of the hedge and waited beside it. One woman and then another passed directly in front of her. The last, weighed down by the water jar, was slightly slower than the others. Saya reach out her hand and deftly hooked the hem of her garment with her finger. The woman, who held the water jar in one hand and her cane in the other, was unable to restrain a cry of dismay when she felt her wrap slipping.

“What's wrong?” The two women in front halted.

“Nothing, nothing. Don't trouble yourselves. I just caught my hem on a branch sticking out of the hedge. It seems that the gardener hasn't been doing his job,” the last priestess said in some embarrassment. “You go on ahead and have them open the gate of the shrine. I'll soon catch up.”

The two continued on while the remaining handmaiden set down her water jar and stooped to gather her wrap. There was no time to hesitate. Biting her lip, Saya raised her arm high and brought her fist down upon the nape of the woman's withered neck. It was a trick that she had learned in the days when she had played with the village boys, guaranteed to make an opponent's head swim without inflicting any real injury. As she had never had a chance to use it in a real fight, she had no idea that it would be so effective. The old woman sank to the ground without a murmur. It was almost shamefully easy.

I'm sorry.
Saya apologized silently. She swiftly dragged the woman through the wooden gate and, laying her in the shadows as comfortably as possible, covered her with her cloak. She then wrapped herself in the handmaiden's shroud, picked up the cane and the water jar, and hurried to the shrine enclosure.

The first two women were already waiting there. The gate was open. Saya approached them in a cold sweat, taking great pains to mimic the gait of an old woman, but it seemed that her efforts were unnecessary. As soon as they saw her cane the guards at the gate bowed respectfully and let her inside without question. To her relief, they did not attempt to touch her. She crossed the threshold and stepped within the shrine enclosure.

Inside, the grounds were paved with round white pebbles, uniform in size. They glowed faintly in the starlight, making the area appear even larger than it actually was. Amazed at her own boldness, Saya stole surreptitious glances at the sacred precincts from the shadow of her wrap, her eyes full of wonder. The shrine stood at the far end, its side facing her, with several small storehouses nearby. Behind it rose a dark grove of cedars, their sharply pointed tips thrusting up into the night sky. A cool breeze carried their tangy fragrance along with the wild perfume of honeysuckle. Saya thought that the shrine must be located near the foot of the mountains. The sanctity of this spot was intense, even within the Palace of Light. It was as if the Milky Way had descended into the depths of the night to create the white emptiness of the garden upon which the shrine stood. The sound of the handmaidens' regular footsteps on the smooth pebbles dissolved into the rising stillness. Saya shuddered, filled with uneasiness, a feeling that she would never be able to return again to where she had come from. The water jar was heavy in her arms, and the water slopped up and down, setting her nerves on edge.

The procession finally reached the shrine. The building appeared small to one used to the large buildings of Mahoroba. But it was tall for its size and the floor was raised high off the ground like a granary. A grown man could easily have walked between the round columns under the floor. The space beneath the building was as spotless as the garden, and the central column was encircled by a rope of braided straw and surrounded by sakaki branches set in the ground. Double doors were set into one end of the shrine and a single, treacherouslooking ladder led up to them. The ladder was just a narrow log not even the width of her foot, and shallow notches provided the only footholds. And of course there was no handrail. The women stood side by side at the bottom of the ladder and prayed soundlessly. Casting a sideways glance in their direction, Saya mimicked them. After standing this way for some time, one of them said, “You must not be afraid. As Her Highness is not here, it is you who must take the water inside.”

“Do not fail in your duty,” the other added.

At last Saya realized that she alone was expected to perform the acrobatic feat of walking up the log. She stepped forward, wondering how on earth a blind old woman carrying a swaying water jar could possibly do it. One slip of her foot and she would fall. She swallowed hard as she looked up its length, then, summoning her courage, she pulled up the hem of her shroud and placed her foot upon the log. All she had to do was make it to the top without falling. It was a question of doing it before she lost her nerve.

She did not fall. She lurched and swayed, but somehow she made it. The doors were made of unvarnished wood studded with rivets, like the palace doors. She pushed against them with the force of her ascent and they opened without a sound, as if beckoning her within.

The bright light of torches struck her eyes. Torches in iron brackets, burning with an intensity too great for mere illumination, were ranged in two rows stretching to the far end of the shrine. Raising her eyes, she saw high ceiling beams blackened with soot, while the floor beneath her feet was so smoothly polished that she could see her reflection. She frowned, struck by a strange uneasiness. She felt that somehow this had all happened before.

But that can't be.

She closed the door and began walking cautiously. The farther she went, the more her uncertainty about herself and her surroundings increased. She felt as though she were walking on a cloud. Her shadow, summoned by the light of the torches, fled before and after her, whispering, and she was afraid that if she stopped to listen, she would lose her mind.

Get a grip on yourself. What did you come here for? Wasn't it to rescue Torihiko?
she remonstrated with herself. But at that very moment she saw before her a brilliantly shining altar . . . a forest of sakaki branches placed as offerings . . . snow-white paper streamers . . . and a white cedar altar gleaming as bright as day. Saya caught her breath and stood riveted to the spot, memory flooding back.

It's the altar from my dream. This is where I meet the shrine maiden.

A quiet terror crept up through the soles of her feet, and she began to shake as if with fever. It was a fear the very quietness of which seemed to push her to the brink of insanity. Her reason, no longer to be governed, fled, and Saya was suddenly a girl of six again. Her rigid body refused to move. And there before her very eyes, like a dream come to life, was her worst nightmare, her greatest fear: a white-robed, black-haired shrine maiden kneeling before the altar with her back to Saya. This time, surely, it was a dream from which she would never wake again . . .

3

FOR AN INSTANT
Saya must have lost consciousness. The clay jar slipped from her arms and shattered as it hit the floor, drenching her from the knees down. The cold shock of the water jolted her back to her senses. She was suddenly aware that this was no dream and remembered what she was doing. Hastily stepping out of the puddle, she raised her eyes and met the gaze of the shrine maiden, who had turned around to look at her.

You see,
Saya told herself calmly.
She has a shadow. She's human. Now, what were you so afraid of ?

There was certainly nothing threatening about the girl who stared up at her. She looked to be about Saya's age, and although she was clothed in pure white, and had long, glossy black hair like the maiden in Saya's dream, her face held nothing but innocent surprise. Nor did she seem in the least suspicious of this intruder. She was, however, just as beautiful as the dream had suggested. Taller than Saya, she was endowed with a refined elegance, and her slender face was exceptionally comely. Her clear, dark eyes seemed tinged with sadness. A thick hemp rope bound her hands and feet. Incredulously, Saya's eyes followed the rope to where the girl's feet were tethered to a pillar. She was a prisoner. The old women had not been talking about Torihiko after all.

The white-robed maiden did not seem to be troubled by her plight. Instead, she stared guilelessly at Saya. Finally she spoke. “These days I find it difficult to distinguish between dream and reality. I feel I've met you somewhere before, but where could it have been?”

Saya uttered a cry. “I know that voice. So it was you!” It was one she would never forget—the voice of the carp that had talked to her in the pond that night. “You're the one who pretended to be a fish and talked to me, aren't you? Thanks to you, I almost drowned!”

“Oh, yes!” The girl's face lit up in a smile of recognition. “I met you in the Mirror Pond, the night I dreamed I was a carp. You were swimming there, too.”

Overcome with curiosity, Saya went right up to her, knelt down and peered into her face.

“Who on earth are you?” she demanded.

“I am Chihaya,” the girl replied. “The third-born child of the God of Light. The last of the immortals.”

Saya blinked in surprise. No one knew of any immortal children besides Princess Teruhi and Prince Tsukishiro, although, thinking back, she remembered that Princess Teruhi had mentioned something about another sibling. Still, it was incredible. Deep within the palace grounds lived an immortal whom no one had ever heard about. And this one was bound!

“Why are you tied up like that?”

“You mean these?” Chihaya replied, completely unperturbed. “My sister tied these knots for me. Because I dream. While I dream, my body must be kept here.”

“Dream? You mean the carp dream?”

“Yes, a carp or whatever. I can become anything—a bird, an insect, a furred creature. My sister never lets me outside because I'm a disgrace to my family. So instead I learned to pass the time this way.” There was no resentment or discontent in her voice, only a hint of resigned loneliness.

Now I see,
Saya thought as she listened.
Her voice sounds like Prince Tsukishiro's. That's why I thought I recognized it the first time I heard it.

This also explained her exquisite beauty. Yet she lacked the powerful, commanding presence that characterized her brother and sister. Instead she appeared very young and forlorn.

“But my sister doesn't like my dreaming, either,” Chihaya continued. “Although I suppose that's to be expected, because it seems to cause so much trouble. I don't know what happens when I dream, but when I see how the handmaidens fear me, I assume that I must look like I've gone crazy.” She tilted her head and said thoughtfully, “Or perhaps I'm insane to start with. I'm not really sure.”