Dragon Sword and Wind Child (2 page)

“That's right. And we've all vowed to find out.”

The Kagai was to be celebrated at the next full moon, and, with the event so close at hand, it was the focus of the village girls' conversation. On the day of the celebration, people in all the villages of Hashiba would put on brand-new summer garments, and everyone but the children and the elderly would climb Mount Itsuki, the highest peak in the area. A bonfire would be lit in the center of a glade partway up, around which they would dance and sing until morning. The men would take a gift—a comb, a jewel, or a small box—to present to the woman who responded to his song with one of her own. It was a time-honored ritual that everyone looked forward to with eager excitement. But for the young men and women, it had a more important meaning: the exchange of songs at the festival was the first step toward betrothal.

“You don't know who I want for a partner? How slow you are!” Saya exclaimed. “Can't you guess?”

The girls' faces lit up with anticipation as they tossed the names of at least ten possible candidates in her direction.

“Too bad.” Saya laughed, restored to her normal self. The lively exchange with her friends had chased away her gloom. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she whispered confidentially, “Prince Tsukishiro.”

This remark earned her a flurry of good-natured shoves and blows.

“That's not fair!”

“Saya! You'll pay for that!”

“Besides, he won't even be at the Kagai!”

“Don't be so sure of that,” replied Saya, restraining a hand tugging at her hair. “They say that the God of Light witnesses our vows at the Kagai. If so, then why shouldn't his son attend it?”

“Even if he had a thousand bodies, he couldn't possibly attend all the Kagai in Toyoashihara.”

“And besides, he's at the battlefront right now, leading his troops.”

“Wearing his silver armor,” added Saya with a look of rapture. “Oh, how I would love to see him just once for myself. He must be more splendid than the full moon. Isn't it amazing that the Children of the God actually walk the earth?”

“You sound just like the shrine maiden. Are you going to remain chaste for the God of Light and live the rest of your life alone?”

“No ordinary village girl like us would ever be chosen for such an honor anyway.”

“You're right,” said Saya, laughing. “I'll have to find a husband. After all, I'm an only child.”

“That's more like it. Dreams are just dreams.”

Yet, although she knew she must face reality, Saya could not take the idea of finding a husband seriously. There were many eligible young men in the village, but not one of them appealed to her in that way. She suddenly felt ashamed of misleading her friends, for none of them suspected her true dilemma. “Well, if I can't find a husband, maybe the shrine maiden will take me on as a servant.”

This remark resulted in further teasing. “What's the matter with you this morning? Has someone broken your heart? I knew it!”

Their speculations were interrupted by a voice from downstream, where the older women gathered. One of them called loudly, “Don't just stand there talking all day. Get to work. Look! You're so careless you've let something float away.” She pointed at the water. The girls, turning to look, saw a light green belt in the shallows slithering downstream like a luminous water snake.

Saya leapt to her feet. “Oh no! My belt!”

Without a moment's hesitation she gathered her skirt up to her thighs and, ignoring the shocked expressions on the faces of her elders, set off after the belt, striding through the stream, her white legs flashing. Gazing after her determined figure, her friends burst out laughing.

“She'll never be a shrine maiden, that's for sure!”

SAYA WAS MISTAKEN
in thinking that she would soon catch up with her belt. To her surprise, it slipped through the water without once catching on a rock or weed, leaving her far behind. A colored belt was one of the few luxuries that the village girls owned, and she was not about to lose hers. Although the water was shallow, never reaching above her knees, the stones in the riverbed were loose and one false step could cause a fall. But Saya was quick and agile and she strode fearlessly, never faltering. Her nimble feet danced through the water, sending up a silver spray as she forged her way down the sparkling stream. Something about her suggested a wild creature, unfettered and free. Her waist-length hair tied at the nape of her neck danced upon her back like a lively tail. She was slim for her age, but her slender arms and legs were strong and tireless. Her small oval face with its expressive eyes drew people to her, yet there was something unsettled and impetuous about her. A keen observer would see that beneath this lay an intelligent circumspection, a wisdom born of her early childhood experience. She consciously strove to be polite and modest before her elders, doing her best to escape attention. In fact, some adults believed her to be a modest and thoughtful young girl. But the village boys still talked about her reputation as a leader of mischief. While both represented part of her character, behind these lay another Saya, an insecure and lonely girl always in search of home—a girl known only to Saya herself.

The river gurgled as it flowed along, winding around a craggy outcrop in the bank, where it turned and fed into a channel thickly lined with reeds. Saya stopped abruptly as she rounded the bend, surprised by the scene before her. Concentrating on her belt, she had come much farther downstream than she had realized, reaching the stepping-stones of the ford. In the middle of the ford a figure was kneeling on one of the stones, busily fishing her belt from the water. He was small, a boy two or three years younger than herself, but he looked so different from the people of her land that she hesitated to call out to him. He wore faded black clothes, almost too short for him, with fur leg guards, leather sandals, and a hat of braided sedge. Around his neck hung a handsome necklace of red stones that belied the condition of his clothes. Saya had never seen anyone like him.

Holding the dripping belt in one hand, he stood up and looked straight at her. His face under a thatch of unkempt hair, which looked like it had never been combed, resembled that of a saucy, stubborn puppy. He stared boldly at Saya where she stood in the middle of the river, her skirt still bunched in her hand, as at a rare and interesting sight. Then, with what Saya thought extreme impudence, he laughed and said, “Is this your belt? If you want it, come and get it.” With the belt still in his hand, he sprang across the stepping-stones and clambered up the right-hand bank. Furious, Saya strode through the water, stepped onto the bank, and ran after him.

“Give it back! What do you think you're doing?” Saya reached out to grab him by the shoulder, but the boy in black was faster, whirling out of reach to face her. He was not in the least disturbed by her anger and even seemed to think it was funny. Having dealt with many unruly boys in the past, she recognized in him a formidable opponent.

At that moment, however, three men, obviously the boy's companions, came into view. Saya faltered and drew back. They might be thieves or kidnappers. She fought back a scream as various frightening possibilities raced through her mind. There was something about them that was completely alien to the world she knew. But the men made no move to accost her. The three of them, wearing the same black clothes and fur leg guards as the boy, merely stood silently staring at her. To her frightened eyes there appeared to be not three but five or ten of them. Their large stature and cool composure certainly suggested the assurance of greater numbers. She could have fled back to her friends but, to her own surprise, she turned once more to the boy and held out her hand. “Give it back, please,” she said. “That belt is mine.”

The boy gazed coolly into her face for a moment. Then a highpitched fragile voice came from behind him. “Give it back, Torihiko.”

Startled, Saya looked up. It was not one of his three companions feigning a woman's voice. Rather, among them stood a small, whitehaired old woman leaning on a staff. She was so tiny that Saya had not seen her at first. The boy called Torihiko smiled with unexpected meekness and offered the belt to Saya.

What an odd group of people,
she thought.

She could not help but stare at them as she took her belt. Although all three men seemed huge, on closer inspection only the one standing in the middle was truly gigantic. His companions were not that much bigger than the village men. It was their air of power that made them stand out. They wore their hair bound in loops by their ears, in accordance with common custom. But their beards were thick, their skin, deeply tanned, and their eyes shone with an unearthly light. One wore a black leather patch over one eye, and this, coupled with the bright gleam in the other, made him appear particularly forbidding. The second was younger and slimmer, but his eyes, too, gleamed dangerously. The man in the middle surpassed ordinary men in girth and height and had arms as thick as young tree trunks, but, of the three, he looked the kindest.

The old woman, in contrast, was about the height of a five-yearold, giving her the appearance of a wizened child. Her staff was at least twice her height, and her head and eyes seemed too large for her spare frame. A halo of white hair like thistledown made her head appear even bigger than it was. In this company, the boy seemed almost normal. But why were they just standing there staring at her, as if they had been waiting for her all this time?

The old woman suddenly blinked, froglike, and spoke. “Excuse me, but is it much farther to Chief Azusahiko's house?”

“No, it's just over there,” Saya answered quickly. “Follow the river and bear right when you come to the pine forest. You can't miss it.”

“Could you perhaps guide us there? We've been invited to the Kagai and wish to pay him our respects.”

“Oh, I see.” Saya relaxed. “Are you the musicians for the festival?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly their dusty sandals and leg guards, their sedge hats and the old woman's staff did not seem so strange. It was quite common for traveling musicians and performers to wander from village to village at festival time. Until now Saya had seen musicians only during festivals, playing the koto or the flute, but no doubt they had all come from far away. It was the custom for musicians to be entertained at the home of the head chieftain for several days before and after the festival before they resumed their wandering.

“I'd be happy to take you there if you would just wait a moment while I go and get my washing,” Saya said.

As she was turning to leave, however, the boy casually remarked, “You have a small birthmark on your right palm, don't you?”

Saya turned back in surprise. She had a pale pink oval mark like a flower petal in the hollow of her palm. Normally, she never thought of it, but it bothered her to think that this sharp-eyed boy had been staring at it.

“I was born with it. What about it?” she answered somewhat brusquely. She was used to remarks about red birthmarks being caused by seeing a fire.

“You weren't born in this village either, were you?” he asked with a mischievous look.

Saya frowned. Although deeply shaken, she kept her poise. “What makes you say that? Does having a birthmark automatically mean that that person wasn't born in this village?”

Just then, she caught snatches of something the man with the eye patch murmured to his neighbor. “The same as . . . You can tell because . . . She has the face of the Water Maiden.”

The Water Maiden? Who's that?
She stiffened. Although she had never heard the name before, it filled her with a sense of foreboding that she could not shake. Her heart pounded and the blood drained from her face as though she had been touched by an icy finger. Aware that the old woman was watching her, Saya asked hoarsely, “Where do you come from?”

She waited expectantly, thinking that they must come from the east. Perhaps they knew something about her true origins. But instead the old woman answered casually, “From the west. And some of us from the south. There are many small but prosperous villages hereabouts.” The old woman's inner thoughts could not be read in her wrinkled face. All her energy seemed to be concentrated in her gleaming eyes, but these, too, betrayed no flicker of emotion. Slightly disappointed, Saya remained silent, when suddenly the old woman asked, “Have you ever heard of Princess Sayura?”

“Princess Sayura? No.”

“Mmm, I thought not. I thought not.” The old woman nodded to herself. “It's been a long time since she passed away, although her death in the palace of the Prince of Light seems like yesterday to me.”

“Was she a relative?” Saya asked, puzzled. The old woman spoke of the Princess as if she were her own daughter, yet the palace in the capital city was the home of Prince Tsukishiro and Princess Teruhi. No one was even allowed through the palace gates unless they were of very high rank.

The old woman did not reply, and the boy smothered a laugh. Saya suddenly felt ashamed and a little angry, as if she was the only one who had missed something obvious.

In the next moment she was hailed by cheerful voices from the grassy riverbank. Several friends had followed her out of curiosity. “Hey! Saya! Are you all right? Did you get your belt?”

The girls, who had raced to the top of the bank, stopped in their tracks, eyes wide with surprise as they caught sight of the strange group of people. Grateful to her friends for rescuing her from an awkward situation, Saya hastily explained, “These people found it for me. They're the musicians for the festival. I'm taking them to the head chieftain. Won't you come with me?”

The girls' faces brightened. Anything out of the ordinary was a welcome diversion. Laughing excitedly, they rushed back to collect their washing.

“What odd people!”

“They remind me of Ground Spiders.”