Onna Yugao - Lady of the Evening Faces
by Nene Adams © 2001 - All rights reserved

PROLOGUE - THE EMPTY PLEASURES

Baka wa shinanakya naoranai.  -----  A fool is only cured by dying.

Shimotsuki, the Month of Falling Frost (November)
In Hanamachi, the Flower District outside Heian-kyo
The Nishikigi Shoshi (The Brocade Tree) - a brothel
11 p.m., the Hour of the Boar

Ashida Itaru, a petty merchant's son, considered himself the most fortunate person in the Floating World. A wealthy uncle had died, leaving the young man a fortune, which he began promptly squandering on gambling, drink and women - much to his father's sorrow. But Itaru cared nothing for his family's disapproval; he was intent upon working his way through the brothels in the pleasure district until he either ran out of money or his honorable one-eyed eel wore away like soap in a rainstorm.

Now comfortably entrenched in the famous Brocade Tree flowerhouse, Itaru belched and reached for another cup of hot sake. He did not intend to get drunk; he had paid a whole gold koban for this unforgettable evening with a young, beautiful asobimi and by Buddha, he was going to get his money's worth!

The lady in question sat demurely on the opposite side of the table. Unlike the comfortable nest of cushions in which he wallowed, she had been kneeling upright on the tatami-covered floor while he polished off a hearty meal and a half-dozen jars of best quality sake. Over the hours, she had told jokes and suggestive stories, sang erotic songs, played games and generally kept Itaru amused, never revealing her discomfort for a moment.

In the next room, several women were entertaining a famous sumo wrestler and their boisterous laughter could be heard clearly through the paper-paned wall. Itaru scowled in annoyance and banged his cup on the table. "Urasai, kono bakayarou!" he shouted. "Shut your fucking faces, assholes! How can I enjoy my pleasures if I'm deafened by yours?"

The asobimi blushed and hid her mouth behind a hastily raised sleeve, shamed by this display of ill-bred vulgarity. Money might have allowed the weedy youth to ape his betters in appearance, but Itaru's lack of manners and refinement broadcast his peasant origins as loudly as taiko drums beaten by a crazed monk.

Itaru misunderstood the reason behind the lady's flush. "Ah, you've noticed my mighty weapon, eh?" He shrugged out of his sole garment - a thin silk underrobe - and pointed to his naked crotch. "A bigger and better weapon than any samurai can boast. Once a pretty kitten like you has a taste of my jade pole, she'll never be satisfied with another man again. What do you say, willow girl? Care to make the Clouds and Rain with a real man for a change?"

The lady smiled politely and offered more sake - a diversion to give her time to think, for Itaru's blatant invitation meant that she would have to come to a rapid decision. Unlike the lower courtesan classes, an asobimi was not required to have sex with her clients. Those men who paid dearly for her company could only expect a few hours entertainment - they rented her mind, not her body. She would take a princely lover at her own discretion, choosing him because his class and rank reflected upon herself, thus bringing honor to both parties.

Ashida Itaru was a crass dungeater who hurled cash in all directions to make up for the deficiencies of his birth. He was utterly unimportant, a low-born nobody, and sharing a pillow with him would actually damage the asobimi's reputation, bringing great shame and loss of face to her house. That he actually believed himself worthy to touch sleeves with her was beyond laughable - it was contemptible in the extreme. She would have to be insane to sleep with this oaf. It would be far less humiliating to pillow with a flea-plagued dog. 

Her choice was obvious.

"Ma!" the lady cried, pretending astonishment at his less-than-average endowment. "Was your honorable mother raped by the ox god? Surely you jest, my lord, for that formidable sword of yours would never fit my modest sheath." Her dazzling smile and lash-fluttering flirtation indicated that she had made a shocking decision - Itaru would be allowed to remain.

Itaru swelled with gloating pride, too ignorant to appreciate the unprecedented honor that was being done to him. So, it's true what they say about high class lilies, he thought. Their gates of Paradise fly wide open in lust when they have a horse-hung peasant to play with instead of those damned nobles and their tiny water-makers. 

"Have no fear, kitten," he smirked, shaking his penis at her. "My jade staff will fly you to Heaven faster than the Rainbow Buddha."

The asobimi untied her sash, allowing the magnificent brocade robes she wore to gape open, exposing her white skinned body. Although several charcoal braziers gave out a steady amount of heat, the tiny nipples of her breasts stiffened into points. "Who knew that Paradise could be so close?" she purred, igniting a stick of incense and thrusting it into a bowl of sand. "Truly, my lord, you have been blessed." Sweet smoke curled up around her perfectly oval face, caressed the lady's loose flowing hair.

Itaru's grin grew wider and he licked his lips. "My blessings come from Putai himself," he said, referring to the god of pleasure, "but I am not a selfish man. Eeee! I am happy to share my good luck with beautiful women like you."

"Oh, I am indeed the most fortunate of women!" She leaned over and blew out a pair of oil lamps, plunging the room into semi-darkness, then removed her clothing with seductive slowness. "Stay at your ease, my lord. Allow me to make a humble pilgrimage to your mighty altar and worship as you deserve."

"I saw something once in a spring pictures book," he said, straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of her naked body. It was difficult to make out very much in the smoky gloom, and the incense smell made his senses reel. The single remaining oil lamp flickered, casting weird, shifting shadows on the paper walls. "It was called Phoenix Flying Over the Peak. Do you know that one?"

"Perhaps you will be willing to teach me," she replied, slowly shuffling towards him on her knees. Her dark eyes flashed passionately and she caught her lower lip between her teeth as if anticipating ecstasy. The lady's fluid movements, as well as the expression on her pale powdered face, reminded him of a hunting tiger that has finally found its prey.

Itaru blinked and rubbed his face with both hands. Was it a trick of the poor light, or was her flesh taking on a darker tone? Thick shadows wreathed her lower body like a cloak.

"As high priest of the temple of love, I am always glad to tutor a willing student." Itaru replied, squinting in puzzlement. How much sake had he taken? He could swear that the blackness sheathing the asobimi's legs was swelling, getting fatter and fatter as she came closer. There was a weightiness and substance about it that he found disturbing. And as for her locomotion... was she shuffling or scuttling like an insect? He shook his head and wondered if the sushi he had eaten for dinner had been tainted.

He continued, "You should have your chef beaten for incompetence. My gut feels like the fish he served is trying to swim upstream..."

Itaru broke off with a shrill scream.

Something reared over him - something horrible that stared out of the lady's infinitely black eyes and moved her red-rouged lips in a smile . Next door, the sumo wrestler and his courtesans were playing a noisy game of Naked Islanders - no one heard his cry.

The creature said, "Believe me, you will not suffer long, my lord." It caressed his face with a cold limb and struck with startling speed.

She was right. More quickly than he could have imagined, Itaru felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

CHAPTER ONE - Fairy Catching and Catching Up

Hotoke no kao mo san do made ----- Even the Buddha's face until the third blow.

Thousand Pine Forest
10 ri from the northern face of Mount Hiei and nearly 50 ri from Heian-kyo

"Bukkoroshite yaru zo!" Ayumi shouted, brandishing a razor sharp katana. "I am going to kill you!"

The enraged samurai was a terrifying sight. Dressed in formal armor, including a scarlet lacquered bamboo breastplate and iron studded hand guards, her martial appearance was heightened by the flush of fury on her face and throbbing vein in her forehead. The woman's black eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets; her lips were drawn back so tightly over her teeth that they were pale and bloodless.

Snow Fairy, the albino priestess, held out both hands in a supplicating gesture. Unarmed and untrained in the war arts, her sole hope for survival lay in reasoning with a woman driven to the edge of blood madness.  "Please stay calm, Ayumi-san, I beg you."

The samurai grunted, then swept her sword towards the other woman in a killing stroke. Snow Fairy side-stepped to avoid the blow and shouted, "Mou! Enough! I can explain this if you allow it!"

"You have caused me to forsake my duty," Ayumi grunted, circling to the left. "Because of you, I abandoned my lady in a time of crisis, and made my oaths a mockery. How can I permit you to live when my honor is destroyed?" She took another cut at the priestess, slipped on a tree root, and barely missed.

Recovering her balance, the samurai continued bleakly, "When you stole me away from my lady, you killed everything that held meaning for me in this fleeting world. Before I slit my belly in atonement, I swear you will join Kimiko in death."

Astonished, Snow Fairy opened her mad pink eyes to their widest extent. "Gomen nasai, honored one, but what you believe is false."

In answer, Ayumi let out a yell and charged the priestess, barreling into her and knocking them both down. Snow sprawled on the cold ground, gulping air desperately, the samurai's weight close to crushing her chest. The edge of the katana pressed against her throat, drawing faint beads of blood.

They were so close, Snow could see the pores in the skin of Ayumi's crooked nose. She gasped out, "Kimiko lives." There was a flicker in the depths of the samurai's steady gaze and the priestess repeated breathlessly, "I swear by my hope of rebirth, Fujiwara no Kimiko lives."

Slowly, Ayumi levered herself off the other woman's body. Squatting with the katana across her knees, she said bleakly, "My lady was accused of murdering her husband and arrested on the Regent's orders. She is dead. Of course, she may be reborn by now, but that is a slippery priest's argument."

"Hai, but I tell you she is still alive." Snow sat up, rubbing her bruised ribs and coughing.

The samurai mulled over this statement for a moment, then abruptly sheathed her sword, dropped to her knees and bowed, knocking her head against the forest floor. "Gomen nasai," she mumbled. "Please accept my humblest apology. I have been unforgivably rude."

Snow offered a tentative smile, somewhat confused by this abrupt turn of events. "I understand your anger..." 

She broke off when Ayumi stood upright and interrupted, "You understand nothing. I will allow you a few moments to pray and prepare yourself for death. It is the courteous thing to do. I regret we have no incense to perfume your head, but I hope you will excuse the lack of proper preparation."

The priestess stared. "Have you not heard anything I've said?"

"Of course, but everyone knows that priests have no honor. What you tell me is impossible, therefore you must be lying. Such fear is shameful and you should not tell pathetic untruths to save your own skin," Ayumi said with a touch of contempt.

Snow regarded the samurai with disbelief. Ayumi seemed calm and perfectly at ease, but her gaze was like black ice. "Perhaps Buddhist priests have cloven tongues, but I do not. Kimiko-sama is alive and I can prove it, if you allow me."

Ayumi shook her head. "Even if my lady is alive - and I don't believe it! - this changes nothing. I must still execute you for interfering with my giri. My ending will be an atonement for abandoning her. It's the right thing to do. Shigata ga nai."

"And what if your lady has need of you? What good will it do her if your bones lie moldering in the moss?"

"I will search for her in Hell." Ayumi smoothly drew her katana and took a wide-legged stance. "I will search for her in Heaven. We will not be separated again."

There was a small, irregularly shaped pool of water nearby, nestled between the gnarled roots of a tall pine tree. Snow gestured towards it. "If I can prove that your lady still lives, will you reconsider?"

"Why should I? Kami-magic tricks will not save you, and I have had enough deception for one day. Now stop squirming like an eel on a hook and die with dignity!"

"Can you doubt the evidence of your own eyes? Watch!" Snow dipped her fingers into the water and swirled them lightly. The pool began to glow, illuminated from within, and dancing yellow light sprayed upwards before settling down into a distinct image.

"Well, honored one?" Snow asked between gritted teeth. Her magical reserves were so exhausted even this simple viewing spell was an effort. "See for yourself if I lie."

Fascinated despite herself, Ayumi came closer and knelt down, peering into the pool. An image of Kimiko floated in the center of the water. She reached out a hand but withdrew it when Snow shook her head.

The young woman was sitting at a dressing table, staring into a mirror. She was talking to someone out of sight; although her lips moved, there was no sound.

Ayumi examined the vision hungrily, greedily, like a ravenous man tormented by the smell of cooking rice. Even though she had been wrenched away from Kimiko only minutes ago, the keen agony made it seem as if they had been divided for a thousand years. "Gomen nasai, my lady," she said softly, wishing with all her heart that she could reach through the water and pull Kimiko to her side. "Samishii - I miss you."

All thoughts of committing seppuku fled before the sight of her beloved mistress; madness vanished when the lady's beauty struck Ayumi like a blow, easing the pang in her breast. The samurai's worst nightmares were not realized - Kimiko-sama was not languishing in a filthy dungeon or kneeling by the executioner's block. She appeared to be in rich surroundings, dressed in elegant robes, obviously cared for. Relief made Ayumi almost faint.

Snow extended her senses through the mesh of the spell, trying to determine the noblewoman's location, among other things. When the information she sought resonated through to her consciousness, she broke off the magical vision with a gesture. Light faded and with it, the picture of Kimiko shimmered into nothingness.

"What are you doing?" Ayumi shouted, plunging her hands into the now still, dark water. "Bring her back! Do you hear me, priestess? Bring her back now!"

"Hear me, Ichijo Ayumi," Snow replied, straightening her back and pulling her white kimono together at the front. Although exhausted, as if she had run non-stop for a hundred ri, she spoke with such dignity and confidence that the samurai's attention was reluctantly drawn away from the silent pool.

"Know that I had a vision before you came to visit me in my temple the first time - the kami revealed that your life and the life of Fujiwara no Kimiko are irrevocably intertwined. If one surrenders to death, the other will follow - this knowledge is as certain as the turning of the seasons. You two have a special unmei, a fate ordained by the gods of Shinto and Buddhism alike, and only together can this destiny come to pass."

"Then why have you taken me from her?" Ayumi was shaking, trying hard to control unwanted tears. Relief and the last vestiges of rage had been consumed by a grief so profound, she thought her liver was shriveling into a knot. "If our sleeves are fated to touch, how dare you interfere?"

"If you'd stayed, both of you would have died," Snow explained confidently. "Putting distance between you and Kimiko-sama was the only way to save your lives, and protect the future. I do not know precisely what the gods have planned, honored one, for my vision was incomplete, but of this I was certain. Now you must go to her, as is your duty, and I will not interfere again." 

The samurai scrubbed at her face, ignoring the harsh rasp of iron-studded gloves against her skin. "Where is she? Did Lord Old Fart forgive her? Is my mistress in the Palace?"

"No." Snow scrambled to her feet, ready to run again if necessary. The news she had to relate was terrible, indeed. "She has been condemned to Hanamachi."

Hanamachi! Ayumi clenched her teeth against a cry of shock and surprise. "How can this be? How was she taken to the pleasure district so quickly? We were on the Roof of Red Gods no more than a half-hour hence..." The look on the priestess' face made her suddenly suspicious. "What have you done?"

Snow Fairy swallowed convulsively. "It has to do with the nature of the transportation spell I used. I did not precisely move us from one physical point to another. Rather, I moved us both briefly through time, into the future, when you would no longer be in immediate danger."

"How much time?" When the priestess did not answer right away, Ayumi sprang to her feet, gripping the hilt of her katana so tightly that her knuckles were whitened by the strain. She did not care how the impossible act had been performed; she had more pressing concerns. "I said, how much time?"

"Three weeks." Snow took two steps backwards, out of close range.

"Chikuso! You thrice-damned daughter of a baseborn turtle-head dungeater! Bakayarou!" Ayumi shouted obscenities, making the forest ring with scorching invective. Losing control once again, she stomped around in rage, mindlessly hacking at innocent trees and shrubs, until spots danced before her eyes and her breath came in great, heaving gasps.

The priestess winced but kept silent, not wishing to draw attention to herself.

Finally, the samurai stopped. Burying the point of her katana in the dirt, she leaned on the hilt, panting. Sweat dripped from the fringe of hair that had escaped from her topknot. "If you have danced us through time, sorceress," she said, nostrils flaring as she tried to control her breathing, "explain why we are so obviously not in the Imperial Palace anymore." 

Snow Fairy looked up; the dappled sunlight caught her eyes, emphasizing the strange pink irises and making her pale lashes gleam like silver points. "Please excuse me, but I doubt you'd understand. The spell's workings are very esoteric."

"Attempt to enlighten this ignorant worm," Ayumi commanded flatly. 

"The world is like a ball which revolves around Amaterasu-sama, the sun goddess," Snow Fairy said slowly. "But it also rotates in place, like a spinning wheel. Hence, we have seasons changing in their proper moment, as well as night and day. When one uses magic to leap from time to time, one also jumps from one location to the next. That is the simplest explanation, or so my sensei taught me." 

Ayumi sneered. "Your master must have been drunker than a frog in a sake barrel to make up such a tale. Anyone with sense knows that if you stand atop a spinning wheel, you'll get thrown off. If the world was as you say, we would all be tossed into the fiery arms of Amaterasu and be burned to ashes, or be devoured by cloud dragons up in the sky. Baka! Why not admit that you don't know how your magic works and be done with it? All priests, Buddhists and Shinto alike, dabble in things best left alone."

She shook her head and continued, "I have no more time for children's stories. I don't care how you did it, and I don't give a shriveled rat's turd about the gods, you, the world, unmei, the Regent, the Emperor or anything else. My sole concern, my only duty, is to save my mistress. Kamawan! Do you understand? I don't care!" 

Snow Fairy put a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture, but it was too late. 

Ayumi lifted her sword and shook it towards Heaven, howling in frustration, "Go on, hurl your chamberpots! Piss on my head, fart in my nostrils and shit on my face, divine monkey-samas! Do your worst to me! Kamawan! Take this so-called destiny and shove it up your asses sideways! I am not a go stone to be placed at your whim! I serve only one - do you hear me? Only one holds my heart, loyalty and soul - and it is not you! Fuck fate! Fuck all unmei and fuck you, too! Kamawan! I give warning to all gods - if you place so much as a single stumbling stone between me and my mistress - if you permit harm to so much as the smallest hair on her body - I will carve you up into food for miserable maggots, I swear!" 

Snow Fairy's mouth dropped open in awe.

A sudden clap of thunder made the priestess jump. It was so loud that her eardrums popped in protest.

Spectacular sheets of rain cascaded down from the cloudless sky, soaking Ayumi to the skin in seconds. She stood there until she was absolutely drenched, water running out of her armor and mud squelching up beneath her straw sandals. She was blinded, deafened and muted by the furious waterfall that pounded her head like a hammer. Each breath the samurai took was so saturated by moisture that she was drowning on dry land. 

Just as quickly as it had started, the shower ended. The forest was dead quiet except for the pattering of droplets from leaves. The air smelled faintly of ozone. A tree toppled with a dignified crash, split in half by a lightning bolt. It missed the two women by inches.

Ayumi lowered her katana and sneezed. The priestess stared with round eyes, completely aghast, too startled and terrified to speak a word.

A crazy grin crept across Ayumi's face until it stretched from ear to ear, crinkling her eyes into narrow slits. "Well, the Myriads Upon Myriads have spoken." She seemed almost cheerful.

Snow Fairy nodded, still stricken speechless.

Continuing to smile, Ayumi flicked her sword to one side to remove rain droplets and sheathed it with a professional flourish. Sitting down on the wet ground, she began shucking off her armor. "Where did you say we were?"

"T-t-thousand Pine Forest," Snow stammered.

"Ah so desu ka?" Ayumi cocked her head to one side, her fingers nimbly untying the cords that held her breastplate in position. "Is that so? We're about fifty ri from the capital on the wrong side of Mount Hiei, then."

She stood up, piled her precious armor into the dubious shelter of a tree root, and covered it with handfuls of leaves. Dressed only in a wet cotton kimono and hakama trousers, she adjusted the set of her two swords and stamped a few times to settle them correctly in her obi, flinging up spatters of mud.

"The quickest way would be to climb the mountain, straight up and over, then take the Nyodo Trail to the Great Gate of Hanamachi. It shouldn't take us more than two days, three at the most. Unless you can use kami magic to take us there instantly? No, I thought not."

Snow Fairy blinked rapidly. "I regret that is not possible; the spell is very strong and it will take me some time to recover."

"It is just as well. I doubt I can afford to lose more time to your addled sorcery." 

Ayumi was in such good humor that the priestess had to exert strict control not to turn and run in the other direction. As important as the samurai and her mistress might be to the future of Wa - or so the kami had indicated in her vision - anyone who dared the gods to do their worst was not just asking for trouble; they were holding out a begging bowl and demanding a piled-high portion of it sprinkled with tears. 

"Don't look like you've eaten dirty rice," Ayumi said, gently smacking Snow Fairy on the shoulder. "This is not the first time I've suffered the notice of Heaven."

"Then why are you smiling?" Snow Fairy didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Don't you realize what you've done?" 

"I was tired of being pissed on," the samurai replied with a shrug. "The gods play stupid games and I've had enough. Now we all know where we stand. I am going to get my lady out of Hanamachi. No force can stop me, and if the Pantheon gets in my way, we'll see how many of the eight million are left when I'm finished chopping through the divine ranks." 

"Defying the gods? You are truly insane." 

"I am a samurai. And I am in love. Is there a difference?"

The priestess' mouth opened and closed a few times in sheer astonishment.

Ayumi set off in a bow-legged, stomping trot. She took a few steps and said over her shoulder, "Don't worry so much, priestess. Be happy, like me. Or do you not enjoy a challenge?" Without waiting for an answer, she strutted on.

Snow Fairy's mind was awhirl. In love? A challenge? Is the whole world out of balance? Her thoughts were so disordered, she felt like a lunatic herself.

Finally, she took a deep breath and said softly, "It is as it shall be. Shigata ga nai. I will reunite two souls severed by my act, and behave according to duty and obligation. But oh, spirits of my ancestors - kami of rock, cloud, rain and flame - why did you saddle me with such a pig-stubborn, battle crazed, giri-bound, liver-twisting samurai, who is mad as a wasp-stung badger? At least, if she killed me, I'd have some peace!"

Snatching up the hem of her robe, she ran after Ayumi shouting, "The path is that way, honored one! That way!" 

The two women began toiling up the rock-strewn trail, headed for the top of Mount Hiei. 
 

CHAPTER TWO - In a Flower's Mouth

Kuchi wa wazawai no kado ----- The mouth is the front-gate of all misfortune.

Hanamachi, the Flower District outside Heian-kyo
The Brocade Tree, a brothel
2 p.m., the first Hour of the Sheep

Fujiwara no Kimiko turned away from the mirror and sighed. Her padded outer robe of Karan brocade had tiny silver bells sewn onto the crimson sleeves, and they chimed whenever she moved, reminding her of how far down she had come in the world. 

From aristocrat to prostitute in one blow, she thought gloomily. Not that it matters. Without Ayumi, my life is as empty as a cloud, and just as meaningless. Oh, my love... I miss you so.

Picking up a pair of brass needles, she stirred the glowing coals in a charcoal brazier 

Her maid, a nine-year-old girl named Plum, politely coughed, "Ano!" to gain her attention. Kimiko focused on the pretty child. She had been sold to the brothel at the age of five by her peasant parents for a pair of silver drops - enough to keep a poor family of six in comfortable means for a year. If Plum's beauty was not marred by moxa or other diseases, she could be initiated into the third-rank courtesans in a few more years. 

"Please, elder sister," the maid chirped, "You should eat something." She slid a lacquer tray onto a low table and bowed. "Auntie Dragonfly is concerned because you sent back the morning rice gruel." 

Plum looked worried. It was her task to serve Kimiko's needs; if her mistress became ill, the maid would be beaten for allowing sickness demons to enter the house. This was just a minor consideration, however. Plum was extremely fond of Kimiko, who did not shout, or slap, or prick her with hairpins, but instead acted with affection and patience, winning the child's loyalty and devotion in a short time. 

"Auntie Dragonfly never wets her sleeve about anything except her money trunk," Kimiko replied, pursing her lips. 

The owner of the Brocade Tree was a notorious miser who pinched every copper mon until it squealed. It was rumored that she still had the first koban she had ever earned, and many more besides, buried in a cedar chest in the garden - along with her heart, conscience and humanity. 

Seeing Plum's distress, Kimiko relented. "Very well, little sister. If it pleases you, I will try and eat. What have you brought me?" 

Plum presented the bowls of food, grinning to show the space between her front teeth. "Daikon no sake-ni," she said. "Special from the chef at the Broken Comb teahouse." 

Kimiko eyed the stew and sniffed; white radish chunks bobbed in a broth flavored with sake and soy, topped by crisp triangles of deep fried tofu. The delicious smell made her stomach growl. 

It annoyed her deeply that instead of pining away and expiring from melancholy, like a broken-hearted woman should, her treacherous body refused to obey poetic convention. Despite her sadness, she still had an appetite that would have astonished a kago bearer.  Sending back her breakfast had been an act of will, but now Kimiko's mouth watered. 

"He also sent hot udon noodles with shrimp tempura, a grilled yam cake, and pickled eggplant. And white rice, of course." Plum swallowed hard, trying not to drool. 

Kimiko was startled to realize that she was already holding a pair of chopsticks. Baka! she said to herself firmly. How can you think of filling your belly like a ravenous sow when the one you love is gone?

But even invoking the specter of Ayumi did nothing to quell her hunger pangs. Kimiko was nineteen years old and healthy - her body craved nourishment. Despite her intentions, once she bit into a crunchy tofu triangle and the creamy goodness melted on her tongue, she found herself eating heartily. 

Halfway through the udon, however, she stopped and pushed all the bowls aside. "You may take the rest," she told Plum. Kimiko knew the maids were kept on a starvation diet and had deliberately saved half the yam cake, some of the daikon, noodles and a portion of rice for the child. 

After a delighted bow, Plum inhaled the remains of her mistress' meal with such enthusiasm that the china dishes gleamed as if freshly washed. When finished, she removed the tray, plucked a kettle of water from a charcoal brazier and poured hot water into a jug. Kimiko delicately cleansed her hands and mouth, drying both on a towel, before emitting a genteel belch of satisfaction. 

"Please go and ask Elder Sister Cobweb if I may visit her in two sticks of time," Kimiko requested. "When you return, I will need fresh robes and my hair must be arranged. Also, bring more coals for the brazier..." 

A strident voice from the doorway interrupted her. "More coals?" Auntie Dragonfly's brows rose to her hairline. She had entered the room stealthily, as was her habit. "I may have granted you asobimi status as a favor to your uncle, but I will not allow a spoiled court beauty to bankrupt me!" 

Kimiko nodded to Plum. "You may go." The maid slipped away, squeaking past Auntie's stout form and hurrying down the corridor. 

"Gomen nasai," Kimiko said to the brothel owner. "Forgive me for neglecting to invite you inside. A devil must have prevented me from hearing your announcement." There was more than a trace of sarcasm in her voice. 

Auntie sneered. "Lord Old Fart stepped on your neck and now you're no better than the rest of us, so don't push your buttocks high, little girl. In case you've forgotten, I own you for the next... let me see... eleven months or so, and slaves have no pride." 

Kimiko's eyes flashed with suppressed ire but she kept silent. Technically, brothel workers above the sixth-rank were not slaves but legal apprentices. However, because flower house owners charged exorbitant rates for food, clothing and shelter on top of the indenture price, the bulk of women never paid off their debts and remained in Hanamachi until their death. 

"Shall I tell the Kanpuko about your disrespect?" Auntie continued, scratching her chin with the stem of her pipe. "Perhaps he'll have that precious nurse of yours publicly crucified." 

Kimiko knew that her uncle had paid Auntie Dragonfly a fortune to keep her imprisoned here. The unearned asobimi status kept her from being raped or worse, and afforded her some protection under the law, but the potential for abuse was still high. Offending or disobeying Auntie brought punishment - usually a good beating on the soles of the feet with a bamboo cane, since the old woman did not like to mark delicate skin. 

Kimiko remembered the first such treatment, just three weeks ago on her arrival. Auntie had administered ten hard blows to drive home the fact that she was no longer a member of the nobility and her former rank was no shield. Unaccustomed to such brutality, the lady had been shaken to the core. 

The bruises on Kimiko's soul lasted far longer than the ones on her heels. She had submitted only because of the threat against Izumi, which the brothel owner held over her head every day. 

So long as the Regent holds my nurse's life in his hands, I must endure. If Auntie gives him a bad report of my conduct, Izumi will be punished in retaliation. My duty is clear - I must obey. The familiar litany helped a little. 

Smoldering with resentment, Kimiko nevertheless bowed her head and attempted to placate the woman. "Please forgive me. This miserable worm did not mean to cause distress and I humbly apologize." 

"Ma! That's better," Auntie gloated, her eyes like jet beads sunk deep in the sockets and just as cold. "A flower should be silent. I see I will not have to teach you the lesson again today." 

Once a great beauty, Auntie Dragonfly had long ago lost her looks to sake and hard use. Her skin was lumpy and the color of chicken fat, all yellowish and waxy. She cropped her real hair short and wore bear-fur wigs that stank of rancid oil. In spite of these deficiencies, she still wore magnificent kimonos and flirted outrageously with the customers, who called her "Old Pisspot" behind her back. 

"I have an excellent offer for your mizuage," Auntie said casually, leaning against a post. "I strongly suggest you consider it. The gentleman is elderly but still vigorous; he will be patient enough with your faults and not make too many demands, unlike some young bucks I know." 

Kimiko's heart stopped and an icy flush ran through her body. Although she had agreed to no such thing, Old Pisspot was already taking bids to auction off her virginity. Mizuage might be commonplace among the regular brothel inhabitants, but surely uncle-san does not want my virtue compromised! He would never be able to find a husband willing to make marriage alliance with me if I returned to the Palace as spoiled goods!

"Has my asobimi status been revoked?" Kimiko asked, fighting down a lump in her throat. 

"Don't be silly. Do you think I could get such a high price for a street whore?" 

"By law, you cannot force me to do this. I have the right to refuse." 

"Mochiron!" Auntie exclaimed sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Of course you do, little girl! No one dares suggest that you should have been opened years ago!" 

Kimiko struggled to remain calm. "Gomen nasai, honored Auntie, but I do not think the Regent would approve." 

The brothel owner laughed harshly and waggled her unshaven eyebrows. "Who do you think suggested it? For someone who's supposed to be clever, you've been acting like a naive fool since you came here." 

"I will not allow this. You may beat me, starve me, torture me... but I will not submit this time." Now that she had caught her breath against the shock, Kimiko firmed her will into steel. "I will not." 

"And what of your nurse, eh? Would you abandon her?" Auntie tsked. "Such an ungrateful child. You shame me." 

"You shame yourself." Kimiko locked eyes with the old woman, deliberately showing her contempt. Openly defying Auntie gave her a heady feeling; ever since Ayumi had disappeared, she had felt out of control, driven to despair, abandoned and alone. Now outrage swelled in her breast, fueled by frustration, misery and pride. 

She was not some back-passage whore of the fifth rank - she was Fujiwara no Kimiko, member of one of the most illustrious clans in the Floating World, connected by marriage and birth to the Sun Throne itself. Her ancestors had been daimyo and respected courtiers since the founding of the Empire. Her own grandmother had been an Imperial wife. The blood of ten thousand proud nobles flowed in her veins, and it was time she remembered who she was and where she had come from. 

Yes, by Kwannon! I will show her who she deals with!

"That threat cuts both ways, Old Pisspot," Kimiko replied haughtily. "If anything happens to Izumi, I am free to act as I please. Do you imagine I will allow you to squeeze more gold from my flesh then? Blades may not be allowed in Hanamachi, but the determined soul always finds a way." 

Auntie was startled, but rallied quickly with a sneer. "You are too young to contemplate suicide. Youth always prefers life over death." 

"Will you test me?" Kimiko gestured violently, making her sleeve bells jingle. "Do you dare?" She was only partially bluffing; death was preferable to some things, but she still harbored a slim hope of finding Ayumi someday. 

"I will beat you bloody for this," Auntie hissed. "Insolent girl!" 

"Please do so. You may break my body, but you will never break my spirit." Kimiko summoned all her disdain and loathing, molded it together with needle-fine hatred against those who had caused her situation, and honed the result into a verbal dagger, which she thrust home without regret. 

She spat, quivering with icy rage, "Now bow down, you pathetic bitch! Bow down and apologize for spewing your poison in my presence! Do you hear me? Put your face against the mats like the miserable peasant you are and do not forget who I am! By Buddha, I said bow down!" 

Centuries of social conditioning made Auntie fall to the floor, abasing herself with instinctive terror clawing at her heart, overwhelmed by Kimiko's tone and attitude. In a world where a samurai could legally kill a peasant just to test the edge of a sword, the low always deferred to the high as a means of sheer survival. Ingrained in the depths of her mind was automatic deference to the upper ranks as well as the fear of generations, and she reacted without conscious thought. 

Kimiko did not feel triumphant; she still burned with righteous fury. "Get out," she said flatly, "and do not threaten me again." 

Auntie Dragonfly raised herself up and retrieved her pipe, attempting to regain some modicum of dignity. She knew that she had lost all face, and shame ate at her narrow soul like acid. "You will never survive. I will make certain of it if others do not." 

"What others?" 

Realizing she had said too much, Auntie fled the room, nearly running over Plum. 

The maid's mouth hung open in amazement. "Is honorable Auntie being pursued by oni? I have never seen her run before. Never! Not even the time when a drunken monk set fire to the toilet house!" 

Kimiko took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and clasped her hands together in her lap until they stopped trembling. "Never mind, little sister. Please come and arrange my hair." 

While Plum bustled about, gathering combs, camellia oil, paper ribbons, pins and ornaments, Kimiko thought quickly, anger dissipated by a sudden pinprick of caution. 

What did the Old Pisspot mean? Why does my uncle endorse a mizuage for me? Oh, how I wish Ayumi was here! she wailed internally. I vow never to touch sleeves with another; my flesh and spirit crave only you. If you can hear this, please pray for me, my beloved. I will do whatever necessary to endure until we meet once more in Heaven, Hell or earth. I would fly to you now were it not for the giri that binds me here.

She sniffed back threatening tears. It served no purpose to dissolve into hysterical longing. Her samurai was gone; she could rely on no one but herself. 

I cannot wait for rescue, like some silly heroine in a novel. Baka! Think, woman! Think! Stop all this purposeless regret and use the brain Buddha gave you. What wheels are turning, what plots are hatching? Who is behind it and what do they want? Think!

Auntie Dragonfly was right about one thing. 

Youth clings to life, especially where love is involved. 
 
 

CHAPTER THREE - The Foot-Drawn Trail

Yabu wo tsutsuite hebi wo dasu ----- Poke a bush, a snake comes out. 

Somewhere on Mount Hiei to Katsura-no-miyo, the Imperial Palace of the Fragrant Trees

Although the sun was sinking and the temperature had dropped, Ayumi trudged onward and upward, making for the peak of Mount Hiei with single-minded determination. Snow Fairy followed behind, concentrating on keeping up with the samurai. 

Something loomed out of the shadows to her right and Snow stopped in her tracks. "Ayumi-san! Look there." 

Ayumi halted and peered at the dilapidated structure the priestess had indicated. "Probably a hunter's hut," she said gruffly, "long abandoned from the look of the thing. Let's go; this is not a seeing-sights pilgrimage and we have no time to gawk at every ruin on the path." 

Snow Fairy grabbed the samurai by the sleeve before she could walk away. "Do not be so quick to judge, honored one. Let us at least search the inside." 

"Why? Don't act like a bakahito, woman. If your feet are sore, rest here and I will continue alone." 

"Look at yourself!" Snow Fairy cried, exasperated. "Look at me! The Kanpuko's Dogs will be watching for a Shinto priestess and a female warrior! The Regent is not a merciful man - do you remember that he ordered your death? - and surely, his spies and Imperial guards have our descriptions. Their eyes are everywhere. Saneyoshi-sama has had three weeks to tighten his fist around the city and turn Hanamachi into an armed camp. Brazenly walking into a trap will not serve your interests, or mine." 

"Woman, you could drive Buddha to murder with all this unending chatter!" Ayumi exclaimed, smacking her thigh with a fist. "In general, I agree with what you've said, but what does any of it have to do with a falling-down wreck?" 

"Perhaps we will find something within that we can use as a disguise." 

"We are more likely to find bird droppings, fleas and a hundred generations of spiders than costumes." 

"Our situation will not be altered by a short delay. Besides, we cannot continue after full dark; if we lose the trail, it may take us hours to regain our way in the morning." 

The samurai mulled this over. She burned with impatience, grudging every moment spent until her reunion with Kimiko. There was another reason why she was so reluctant to enter the place, but it was a private concern and none of the priestess' business. 

Despite her misgivings, Ayumi had to admit that Snow Fairy had a point. While she did not believe for a moment that they would find anything useful in the abandoned hut, it would provide minimum shelter until sunrise. 

"Very well. I agree, but we will only stay until Amaterasu shows her face, wakarimasu ka?" 

"Hai. I understand." 

It was not as bad as Ayumi feared. The interior was larger than the outside suggested, with a stone-lined fire hole scraped from the dirt floor, and a few bird's nests tucked into the eaves, draped in dusty cobwebs. There was no furniture except a rickety plank table and a narrow wooden platform covered with dead leaves. Two cracked clay pots sat beside a rusting iron hibachi grill, and a small supply of charcoal leaked from a battered reed basket in the corner. Snow Fairy glanced about and clapped her hands together in delight. 

"I was not always a priestess," she explained. "Before I pledged myself to the kami, I was born into a family of vagrant actors." Snow knelt down and thrust her hands into the gap beneath the bed platform. When she pulled them back out again, she held several flat packages wrapped in oilcloth. "Because they are forbidden by law to stay at public inns, all troupes build places like this for shelter and make them look deliberately forlorn, to discourage thieves." 

"Does this place belong to one of your relatives?" The samurai was obviously annoyed. "Why didn't you say so in the first place instead of making excuses?" 

"I suspected, but wasn't sure until I saw this." The priestess pointed to an unobtrusive sign carved into the wood of the sagging doorframe. "It is the mark of the Amazake clan, one of the best kabuki groups in the Empire. I hope they left us something useful." She tore open the oilcloth packages and spread out the contents. 

Ayumi grunted in surprise. A plain lacquer box held a variety of cosmetics; another contained compact pouches of rice, dried fish and fruits, obviously emergency rations. Snow held up a pair of padded jackets. The blue cotton cloth was rough and marked on the back with a Buddhist blessing, just the sort of thing peasants wore when making a pilgrimage. Patched and faded black hakama with raveling hems, plain gray kimonos, thin towels, ribbed fingerless gloves and strips of fabric completed the outfits. 

"It is sometimes necessary for actors to disguise themselves as villagers, to avoid the Emperor's travel taxes and be able to purchase supplies," Snow said, popping a slice of dried pear into her mouth. "Also, troupes bury extra costume trunks under the floor and retrieve them when they tour the region again. My own family had caches concealed in most of the provinces; very convenient when the government does not allow you any mode of transportation save your own two feet." 

"The more I come to know you, the more I realize that you are no typical priestess," Ayumi replied, sitting cross-legged near the fire hole. Her calves were cramping from the steep incline they had just walked up, but she ignored the gnawing pain. "I do not regret trying to kill you - it was my duty! - but I am glad that I didn't succeed." 

The albino women shrugged. In the burgeoning twilight, her face was a pale silvery blur. "He who fears death dies a thousand times, while the brave suffer only once," she quoted, knowing this was as close to an apology from the samurai as she was going to get. "The matter is forgotten." 

There was a moment of silence before Snow continued, after clearing her throat, "By disguising ourselves as peasant pilgrims, we stand a much higher chance of getting into Hanamachi alive. After that, it is in the hands of the gods. We should eat, though, and try to sleep a few hours while it's quiet. There is probably a stream nearby; I will go fetch water. Can you light a fire?" 

Ayumi grinned. She was in a much better humor now that the odds of her actually reaching Kimiko had improved a hundred fold. "I should think so. My former lord had me chasing bandits out in the wilderness for months, and only an evening fire saved me from becoming uncivilized. You will probably not enjoy my cooking, though. I am the only person I know who can burn tea!" 

Snow Fairy smiled in return. "Alas, there is no tea! We will have to make do with charred rice." 

"That, at least, I can manage." 

They stared at one another for a moment, each realizing that they had made tentative steps towards true friendship, then Ayumi turned away and said, "The light is fading fast. You had better go." 

"Hai," Snow agreed softly, scooping up both clay pots and cradling them against her hip. "I will return shortly." 

Despite the promising beginning, each woman was occupied with her own thoughts and very little was said for the rest of the evening. 

Fujiwara Saneyoshi, duly appointed Regent for the child Emperor, and the most powerful man in Wa, sipped tea in his private chambers, avoiding looking at the person who crouched nearby. 

"Please excuse me, most exalted lord, but should we not discuss the terms of the contract?" the person inquired politely. 

Saneyoshi-sama snorted, blowing a fine spray of tea onto his dark gray kimono. "Silence, worm!" he commanded harshly. "How dare you speak without permission! Filthy ninja... you do well to keep to your place and curb your tongue." 

The ninja kowtowed, knocking his forehead against the floor. He was dressed as a maid, with a plum colored kimono, dull russet apron, and a white towel tied over his head. Skillfully applied cosmetics gave him a pretty doll's face, with round red cheeks, bow lips and fragrant white skin. "It is you who have summoned me once again," he murmured. "I respectfully remind the exalted lord that the Shideyama clan owes obedience to no man." 

The Regent scowled at this impertinence and slammed his cup on the table, shattering the fragile porcelain into a dozen pieces. His visitor looked amused. Struggling to regain perfect control, Saneyoshi bit his lip so hard that his teeth cut into the tender flesh. 

Ninja were utterly without honor or loyalty. Unlike noble samurai, they acted as sneak thieves, assassins and spies, and could not be trusted at all. Anyone who hired these despicable killers to do their dirty work was considered a traitor to their class - if Saneyoshi's involvement came to light, the entire daimyo ranks would forget their differences and unite against him in war. Not only that, but the ninja themselves would surely eliminate him for exposing their secret connection. 

"Have I not treated your clan generously in the past?" Saneyoshi-sama asked brusquely, concealing the icy flush of fear that made his sphincter tighten. 

"Of course, exalted lord. Which is why we eagerly anticipate serving you once more." The ninja showed ink-blackened teeth in a charming smile. 

The coppery taste of blood in his mouth made Saneyoshi-sama faintly nauseous. That was not the only cause of his discontent, however. He had come to a certain decision in the past three weeks that, while necessary, certainly soured his stomach. 

Kuso! I cannot believe that after all my efforts and plans, everything has turned to dog shit in my hands, the Regent thought. My wayward niece has become a serious liability - almost as much of a hindrance as her idiot father.

Fujiwara Masanori, his younger brother and Kimiko's father, had been an unambitious scholar, content to rot in provincial obscurity in faraway Edo. Unworldly as he was, Masanori had nevertheless disagreed with Saneyoshi's plans for imperial dominance. 

For nearly a century, the Fujiwara clan had virtually ruled the Floating World by making marriage alliances between their daughters and the highest men in the Empire, even managing to secure ties to the throne itself via concubinage. The situation was helped by the frequency of child Emperors who could be easily manipulated. 

Modern times were different, however. Two circumstances threatened Saneyoshi's position: first, Emperor Kaika was protected by his clever and opportunistic mother, the Dowager. The imperial government now relied on a balanced tripod of power - Lady Hisame, Saneyoshi and the daimyo warlords. Not having complete control was galling, and the Regent immediately began scheming to reach the heights once more. 

This led to his second problem. Having only worthless sons and no daughters himself, Saneyoshi-sama had focused on his brother's daughter, Kimiko. Pretty, lively, sweet tempered, smart and malleable - or so he'd thought - she would have been the perfect pawn. He'd planned to marry her advantageously, and when the time was right, make sure she became a widow. 

When Kaika began to show a real interest in girls, Kimiko would be the right age and have the proper experience to make an excellent Imperial concubine. He had been certain that she would obey him and twist the Emperor to his bidding, thus putting the Dowager completely out of the picture and allowing the Fujiwara clan to rule from behind the throne once more. 

Alas, his idealistic brother had refused to cooperate. 

Masanori-chan, why did you have to be such a stubborn, single-minded fool? the Regent thought. Why could you not just give up your daughter for the good of the clan? Did you truly believe that our blood tie gave you the right to defy me to my face? I did not want to kill you, but you left me no choice.

That had been the first time Saneyoshi-sama used the ninjas of Shideyama clan - to assassinate his own brother so that the deed could not be traced to him. After the act, further luck came his way; Masanori's wife declared the murder to be an accident, shaved her head and entered a Buddhist monastery, thus leaving his niece Kimiko without protection. 

Unfortunately, his plans for Kimiko had gone completely awry. It was stupid of me to accuse her of murder in such a public fashion. Lady Hisame could have used the situation to her advantage and I sought to minimize the damage to my position without considering all the consequences. Now, not even the lowest and poorest noble in Wa will marry Kimiko. Her reputation has been too soiled, and the Dowager's tongue spreads further evil on a daily basis. My niece will never be able to gain access to the Emperor, not even as a chamberpot cleaner - the nobility would never accept it. The Son of Heaven united with a murderess? Hah! Oxen will sprout wings and fly to Sacred Fuji before that happened!

The decision he had come to was based on cold, clinical reasoning rather than emotion. Kimiko has become a liability, just like her father. Old Lady Spider will let no one forget that I, her uncle, sponsored the chit to court and arranged that ill-fated marriage. Her popularity has vanished and she is universally dishonored. My misjudgment has cost me too much face already; if I do nothing, my allies will believe me weak and fall away. In this life I have chosen, there is no room for softness or sentiment. Shigata ga nai. The girl must be eliminated. 

As I cannot trust that grasping bitch Dragonfly to do the job properly, and none of my retainers have the subtlety of a stampeding buffalo, I must rely on professionals. Let Old Pisspot get what she can from my niece's body while she is able; all too soon, Kimiko will be fit only for a maggot's feast.

Saneyoshi glanced at the patiently waiting ninja and grimaced. He hated giving up, hated having to admit his efforts had been wasted, but the Kanpuko was also practical enough to know when to cut his losses and move on. Cold blooded and ruthless, perhaps, but success required sacrifices - he had absorbed that lesson with his mother's milk. 

"My niece, Fujiwara no Kimiko, is in Hanamachi, dwelling as an asobimi in the Brocade Tree brothel," the Regent said. "Hear my will - in three days time, the Shideyama clan will ensure that she disappears from that place and is never seen or heard from again." 

"Does the exalted lord require proof that his command has been successfully implemented?" 

"Hide-e!" Saneyoshi-sama said sarcastically. "How terrible would be my misfortune if the girl's body was discovered in my private apartments!" 

"Gomen nasai. Of course you are correct." The ninja toyed with the end of his sash, pursed his rouged lips and looked speculatively at the ceiling. "Perhaps a small trophy would be sufficient, merely to verify the target's identity and provide mutual satisfaction on a job well done." 

"Do as you think best, but discretion is required above all!" Saneyoshi felt exhausted; he wanted the ninja to leave so he could rest. "Remember, three days. No sooner, no later. I will be making a pilgrimage to the Ise Shrine later today and will return after the mission is completed. It is important that no suspicion of any kind be attached to me." 

"Wakarimashita. I understand completely, most exalted lord," the ninja drawled, bowing gracefully and rising to his feet. "Rest assured, all shall be as you desire." 

"It had better be," the Regent growled. "Here is one-half of the payment as agreed." He pulled a pouch from his sleeve, counted out several gold koban, and laid the coins on a piece of paper, folding the sides to form a package and twisting the ends into a flower-petal design. Scooping up the payment with his fan, he offered it to the ninja, unwilling to allow the man close enough to touch him. 

The man took his money and bowed once more. "Domo arigato gozaimasu," he chirped, expertly altering his voice into a young woman's soprano. "Thank you very much." His body language, expression and gestures were so completely feminine that Saneyoshi-sama felt his jade pole stiffen in an unconscious response. 

Angered at being betrayed by his body, the Regent grunted, "Ikinasai! Go now and obey, as you value your life." 

The ninja turned and sashayed to the door, stepping into wooden geta and glancing over his shoulder flirtatiously. "Should you need anything further, master, you have only raise your knuckle and I will come running at your summons." 

He slid open the shoji-door and walked out between the guards, hips rolling and buttocks squirming, smiling widely and bobbing his head - the perfect image of a young maid looking to get ahead in the world by pillowing instead of hard work. 

Saneyoshi-sama shook his head and shouted for a servant. When that unfortunate appeared, the Kanpuko commanded coldly, "Bring me fresh tea and hot food at once, you bakahito! How dare you allow your master to perish from hunger and thirst!" 

The deed was as good as done. 

Now the Regent needed something to take the foul taste out of his mouth.

CHAPTER FOUR - The Weaver's Song 

Jigoku de hotoke ni ota yo da ----- Like meeting a Buddha in Hell

Hanamachi, the Flower District outside Heian-kyo
The Brocade Tree, a brothel
3 p.m., the second Hour of the Sheep

"We meet, we part, we regret, 
By Heaven's mercy we are united once more; 
Sleeves briefly touch, a cup of sake, 
And our paths divide. 
Left waiting, still meeting, parting again - 
such are the brief sorrows called life." 

The asobimi called Cobweb vibrated her throat on the last part of her melancholy song, bringing tears of appreciation to Kimiko's eyes; the woman's achingly high soprano voice was well suited to the traditional "autumn rains melody." Cobweb thrummed the strings of her koto in a final flourish and bowed her head, allowing the music to gently subside and mingle with the patter of raindrops falling in the garden outside. 

Kimiko wiped her wet face with her sleeve. "Please excuse me. I have never heard such a beautiful song played so skillfully." For a moment, she was completely overcome by memories of Ayumi; it was a difficult task to swallow her grief and push the unbearable longing aside. Her breast ached with the effort. 

Cobweb nodded, pulling ivory plectrums off her fingers and placing them in a small box. "We have all suffered disappointment in love, little sister," she said compassionately. "It is our fate, and only rebirth will take away the sting. But enough of sadness! Please join me for tea and we will chat only of light affairs. O-cha, Ogawa-chan!" 

The asobimi's maid, a skinny adolescent with an old scar on her forehead, hastened to place a tray with fresh tea and snacks on a low table near Kimiko. Cobweb gently pushed aside the koto and shuffled on her knees to join her visitor. 

Holding the sleeve of her elaborate overrobe aside while she poured tea, Cobweb asked slyly, "I have heard that Old Pisspot scurried from your chambers as if pursued by a horny priest! I wonder what could have happened to put a spasm in that one's stone liver?" 

"Gomen nasai. I don't know what you mean." Kimiko was reluctant to confess the truth. 

Cobweb was one of two asobimi in the Brocade Tree prior to her arrival; the other was called Bikei - a nickname meaning "Beautiful View." Neither woman had greeted the news of a new first-rank courtesan with cries of joy, but Bikei was openly hostile to the idea of a possible rival. Cobweb, on the other hand, had mellowed to Kimiko and become genuinely friendly, taking her courtesy title of "elder sister" seriously enough to offer gentle advice and counsel. 

Even so, Kimiko was still not sure whom she could trust, especially after Auntie Dragonfly's tongue-slip. She tried to look innocent and repeated, "I really cannot say why Honorable Auntie behaved in such a strange fashion." 

"Ah so desu ka?" Cobweb raised her thick black eyebrows in polite disbelief; unlike other inhabitants of Hanamachi, she did not slavishly follow the fashions of nobility and shave her forehead clean. "Please forgive me for prying into matters that are not my concern. I meant no offense." 

Kimiko accepted a cup of tea and shook her head. "Shigata ga nai. It is nothing." She sipped the steaming green liquid and allowed familiar bitterness to soothe the lump in her throat. While she drank, she studied Cobweb obliquely, trying to determine if the asobimi was as trustworthy as her appearance and attitude suggested. 

Both women wore their floor-length hair in an acceptable courtesan's style - the sides and top gathered into a knot above the center of the brow and pinned into place with jeweled ornaments, while the rest was pulled into an elaborately twisted bun at the back. Scented camellia oil kept the lustrous black locks smooth, but while Kimiko always had a few wisps escaping untidily around her ears, Cobweb never had a hair out of place. 

The asobimi was classically beautiful - slightly rounded oval face, long narrow nose, elongated swallow's eyes that could flash with passionate fire, or brim with sympathetic tears. Her skin was as pale as rice powder, without a blemish, and she never used cosmetics. Cobweb's clothing was deliberately cut in an old-fashioned style, utilizing antique Karan brocades and embroidered silks in muted shades, decorated with pearls, jade buttons and silver charms. Although fashion reigned supreme behind the walls of Hanamachi, Cobweb chose elegance over peacock flaunting, and stood out from the rest of her fellows as a consequence. 

When she moved, every gesture was as graceful as a dance. She did not walk, but seemed to float an inch above the ground. Everywhere she went, the scent of costly Dew-on-the-Mountain-Path incense perfumed the air. She was the uncrowned queen of the flower district - a woman so legendary that hushed mobs dogged her steps, and men fought for the privilege of bowing to her. Even other asobimi, who should have gnashed their teeth in jealousy, accorded her an astonishing amount of respect. 

However, despite her obvious refinement, Cobweb still retained one habit that pointed to a peasant background. 

Weaving, Kimiko thought. No courtesan has true wealth, but with the richest men in the Empire lined up like so many dogs to lick her hand and give expensive presents, Cobweb could command a wardrobe fit for an Empress. Not only that, but most kimono makers in this district would kill each other in a frenzy to display their wares on her back, and she wouldn't have to part with a single copper mon. 

But Cobweb preferred to weave fabrics for her unique robes on her own loom, using dyed silk thread delivered on a weekly basis. She was an undisputed expert; the products she made were so exquisitely crafted they could have come from the finest weaving houses in Wa. Kimiko had grown used to hearing the clack of the woman's flying shuttle at all hours of the day and night; the sound was soothing, almost hypnotic. 

At first feeling that such an occupation was unsuitable for a woman of Cobweb's position - not to mention somewhat strange - Kimiko had decided that the eccentricity suited her somehow. It was clear that the asobimi was never happier than when kneeling before the loom and creating a work of art with the skill of her hands alone.

Only helping her new friend Kimiko navigate the confusing maze of a courtesan's life seemed to give Cobweb as much satisfaction. 

She has been so nice to me that I almost feel we are blood siblings. I am so exposed in this place; as dangerous as it was, at least the Imperial Court was familiar ground. Do I dare leap into the void and accept Cobweb as an ally? Kimiko felt her doubts fading. Do I dare reveal to her the truth?

Cobweb leaned forward slightly and tapped a fingernail on her teacup, making the porcelain chime like a bell and startling Kimiko out of her thoughts. "Something troubles you deeply, little sister. You are too silent, too withdrawn. I can tell there is no happiness in your soul. Can I not persuade you to confide in me? It will go no further, I swear." 

"Excuse me." Kimiko bowed her head. Might as well be killed for a salmon as for a sprat, she thought. What do I have to lose? If nothing else, I will at least be able to unburden myself to someone who might care. 

She continued after a pause, "While I appreciate your kindness, I hesitate to inconvenience you with my petty burdens." 

"Nonsense!" Cobweb shuffled around the end of the table until she knelt right next to her friend. "I never had family of my own, but you are like my very own baby sister. If there is anything I can do, I won't hesitate. You know that." She lowered her voice and raised her hands to either side of her face, cupping her temples; her long sleeves hung down on each side like a privacy curtain. 

In a whisper, she continued coyly, "Is it a love affair? Old Pisspot never told us why you came here, but I can see you must be one of the highborn. Have the clouds not covered the moon for you? That's the only reason I can think for someone like you to be here." 

Kimiko blushed. The asobimi was asking if she was pregnant; "clouds covering the moon" was a genteel euphemism for a woman's monthly cycles. "Iye!" she exclaimed, putting up her own sleeves to shield her face, the way one did when about to exchange secrets. "I've never pillowed with anyone before." 

Cobweb looked both relieved and startled. "Ma! Well, you can't be as innocent as you claim, little sister, or you would not be here." 

Kimiko wrinkled her nose and sighed. "It's true that I have family problems, but not those, thank the Myriads." 

"No? Then please, tell me, what is it that threatens you?" 

Having finally made up her mind to trust Cobweb - (why not?, an inner voice urged, she is beautiful, kind and caring, and you are alone) - Kimiko told the asobimi about her situation, leaving out no details and not attempting to remain incognito anymore. 

When she learned that her friend's uncle was the powerful Regent, Cobweb's mouth dropped open and she shivered. "So many powerful enemies! Merciful Kwannon, little sister, you do nothing by halves!" 

"It appears so," Kimiko agreed ruefully. "Now you know the truth. What can I do? I have no way of gathering information or protecting myself. It appears that Auntie Dragonfly as well as these invisible 'others' are plotting against me. I must assume they mean to have me killed." 

"Can you not appeal to your parents for assistance?" 

"My father died two years ago during a plague. My mother shaved her head and entered the temple. Saneyoshi-sama is the leader of our clan, and he is the one who put me here! No, elder sister; I cannot look to anyone for help." 

Cobweb's eyes narrowed and she asked slowly, "You were to be punished in Hanamachi for one year only, correct? Why, then, would your honorable uncle sanction a mizuage? That will ruin you for any marriage alliance when you return to court." 

"Unless he does not intend for me to return at all."

"Why would he do that?" 

"That is a question I cannot answer... yet." Kimiko made a face. "My uncle has a mind as crooked as a cat's hind leg. Cut off from the Palace, I have no way of getting information about his movements or plans. It's bad enough being shackled to this brothel, but I've been blinded and deafened as well. How can I plan a defense when I don't know what bolts may fly from Heaven?" 

Cobweb lowered her hands and poured them both more tea. "We might be sequestered here but that does not mean we are entirely cut off from the outside world," she said carefully. "The blind shampooers, tradesmen, porters, kitchen staff, delivery boys, musicians, waitresses, maids... all of them collect gossip the way a spider catches flies." 

Kimiko nodded. "I imagine the honorable gentlemen you see are also full of news." 

"Worse than old ladies gossiping over their washing tubs!" Cobweb munched a handful of rice crackers. "When a man believes himself in love, he opens his heart and scatters secrets to the winds. Did you know some first and second rank courtesans are also Imperial spies?" 

Kimiko gasped in surprise. "Ma! They work for the Naishi!" 

"Oh, yes." The asobimi grinned, pleased at her friend's reaction. "Many a loose lipped nobleman has gone to bed with a pretty girl and wakened the next morning alone, except for a box with the yellow silk dagger." 

Receiving a knife with the hilt wrapped in saffron-dyed silk was a symbol of the Imperial command. In obedience, the recipient immediately committed seppuku, often ignorant of what crime he had committed. 

"Members of the spy network report directly to the Kanpuko," Kimiko said thoughtfully. "No wonder I feel as if his eyes are everywhere. They are!" 

"I know someone who regularly goes between Hanamachi and the Palace," Cobweb offered. "A doctor. He can be trusted, if there is anyone you wish to contact...?" She left the rest of the sentence unspoken. 

For a bare second, hope thrilled in Kimiko's heart. Cobweb was offering to smuggle a letter out - a very dangerous favor, considering that the asobimi and her contact would be executed if the clandestine activity were discovered. 

If only she could get a message to Ayumi! After a brief moment, however, that fragile dream died beneath the weight of reality. Even if she knew where her samurai was, she would not risk Ayumi's life against such terrible odds. 

Kimiko took a deep breath, hung her head and replied dully, "I fear there is no one, elder sister. The one I love is far away; I doubt I will ever see her again in this lifetime. If she knew where I was, what was happening... but there is little profit in regret." 

"She?" Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Cobweb let out a charming giggle - more a squeak than a true laugh. "Do your feet prefer to travel the Nyodo Road instead of the Shudo, little sister?" 

Startled out of her gloom, Kimiko flushed brightly. The Nyodo and Shudo roads were popular paths that traveled from Heian-kyo to Hanamachi, but Nyodo also meant "Way of Women" while Shudo, "Way of Boys." The bawdy double-meaning was embarrassing. 

"Sleeve touches sleeve because it is meant to," Kimiko countered, still blushing. 

"True, very true. We cannot fathom the ways of the gods." Cobweb shot her a sly glance. "Did you know that Bikei follows the Way of Women in private? That is why she hates you so. Her lover is Yukan. You know her, don't you? The cross-eyed third-ranker?" 

Kimiko smothered a chuckle. Yukan was not only cross-eyed, she was thin as a needle, wore too many cosmetics and put on hateful airs. The other servants could not stand her. "This does not explain why Bikei's liver ties itself into a knot when we cross paths." 

It was Cobweb's turn to look surprised. "Did you never notice the way Yukan melts with passion when she gazes at you? She's like a moonstruck ox! Beckon to that one with your smallest finger, and she would fall into your futon as if kicked in the buttocks by Benzaiten-sama! Yukan has spent a fortune in incense at the love goddess' temple, bawling prayers loud enough to deafen the ears of any unfortunate within three ri!" 

Kimiko nearly choked with laughter. "This is terrible! I had no idea!" 

"I keep waiting for her to sneak on to your verandah in the night and sing love songs. That would bring the exorcists running! Yukan has a voice like a cat with its tail caught in a meat grinder. Old Pisspot will think we're being invaded by demons." 

"Yamero! Stop it! My belly hurts!" 

The asobimi was not finished tormenting her friend yet. "It could be worse," she proclaimed dramatically. "Yukan could be sending you... bad poetry!" Her thick eyebrows waggled fiercely and she crossed one eye like a stage actor. 

Kimiko toppled over in helpless convulsions. Several minutes later, she sat up, wiping her aching face and sniffling. 

Cobweb smiled. "Good! You needed a release, little sister. I hope you feel better now." 

Oddly enough, Kimiko did. She knew her pressing problems had not been solved, but it seemed like the burden had been lightened somewhat by their merriment. "Domo arigato, elder sister. Life has been too serious lately." 

"I agree." Cobweb winked and got back to business. "Now, I will do what I can to find out what is happening in the Palace. And if Honorable Auntie has anything exotic planned, it is certain she will not do it herself. There are certain men in Hanamachi who take care of troublesome girls; I will find out if they have been recently contracted for a removal." 

Kimiko nodded. "We must be careful and discreet." She touched the asobimi's hand. "I appreciate all your help and would not want to put you in danger." 

"A little danger adds spice!" Cobweb squeezed the girl's fingers. "Speaking of spices... you had better instruct your maid to pick up your meals from the teahouse herself. You must not eat anything from the kitchen here. Auntie's not above slipping a few pinches of poison into your dumplings if she gets the chance." 

"Hai. What about spies? Is there a chance my uncle is watching me?" 

"As far as I know, there are none working in the Brocade Tree and we rarely mix with girls from other places. That is not to say the Naishi have not recruited the nightsoil collector and the fugu chef! We must think of an excuse so that our meetings will not be suspicious." 

Kimiko's gaze roamed around the room. "Ah! I have it! Elder sister, I humbly beg the privilege of studying the koto with you whenever it is convenient." 

Cobweb let out another squeaky giggle. "Excellent! I will inform Old Pisspot of our arrangement and let her know that I will be summoning you at all hours. She will, of course, extract the cost of tuition from your boarding fee." 

"Naturally." Kimiko rolled her eyes. "And when I am dead, she will no doubt sell my corpse to a sorcerer's assistant for a few silver drops." 

"Chigau! Don't be ridiculous! Auntie will cut off your hair and nails and sell them to other courtesans as false pledge gifts. There is more profit that way." 

When hair and nails were cut, the trimmed bits were burned in a hot fire to ensure they could not be stolen by evil magicians and worked into deadly charms. Giving such items to one's lover was a potent expression of trust. Kimiko was a little shocked to learn that most prostitutes bought these things (taken from the dead) to give as gifts to their lovers in the hope of extracting more money from the men without endangering themselves. 

"It is bad enough that people want to kill me," Kimiko muttered, shaking her head, "but now they want to defile my corpse!" 

"Do not despair, little sister. The world is a strange place, true, but working together, we will foil the forces at work against you. It will be great fun!" 

Kimiko suddenly felt a surge of doubt so strong, she nearly choked on it. The Brocade Tree - indeed, all of Hanamachi - was a deathtrap. There was literally nowhere to hide, no weapons at hand, no one to come running at a call for help. She was like a turtle without its shell, walking across an open plain with hawks circling overhead. Counting on a courtesan for help was sheer madness, the ultimate folly. 

What was I thinking? Have I gone insane? Cobweb can't possibly understand what she faces in allying herself to me! Oh, she has good ideas, but can anyone be dependable who speaks of thwarting the Regent as if it were a game?

"My uncle is not a petty merchant seeking to destroy a rival with stone-fist tactics," Kimiko said aloud. "He is a dangerous and powerful man who dances with against the Dowager Empress and the daimyo on a daily basis. Do not speak of him so lightly! This is not 'fun', elder sister. It is deadly serious." 

"I understand that, Kimiko-chan." It was the first time Cobweb had called her by her name. "We play a game of very high stakes - life and death. You know that courtesans are extremely skilled at gambling, and I am one of the best." 

Uncertainty still gnawed at the girl, reinforced by Cobweb's frivolous attitude. "Perhaps I should have said nothing at all. Uncle-san is as subtle as a spider, and just as poisonous. I think you are too ignorant of the real world to comprehend my situation." 

Cobweb frowned darkly, all the sweetness chased from her features in an instant. "Little sister, it is you who displays her ignorance. Do you believe that the Flower District is so different from the Palace? Here, women destroy their enemies with the only weapons they have - beauty and wits. There is more intrigue in the average brothel than in the Imperial house itself! You speak of spiders... well, the biggest are to be found here, squatting in the middle of a web of lies. Pretty girls with venom in their veins and hearts as solid as jade. How do you think I clawed my way to the first rank, eh? By being nice?" 

Kimiko jumped when the asobimi pounded her fist onto the table, making the tea things jump. "I am a survivor!" Cobweb exclaimed vehemently. "To live and prosper in this place, you must be as tough as uncured leather and meaner than a badger with piles! You must be willing to do anything, step on anyone's neck, even kill to move upwards. Beauty is only half the story, little sister. The mirror may reflect a soft, sweet natured lady, but beneath the skin you will find a soul of pure steel and all the morals of a blood-crazed fox." 

Kimiko was speechless. This was a side of the elegant courtesan she had never seen, and it took her breath away. 

Cobweb continued more calmly, "You think I know nothing of the real world? This is the real world. The Palace is an illusion. Keep that reality between your ears and stop deluding yourself. Now, I am willing to help you because I think it would be a good thing to have a noble lady in my debt. Keeping you alive is a necessary part of the bargain. Someday, I expect the favor to be repaid. Wakarimasu ka?" 

"Hai! I understand." 

"Good." Cobweb smiled. "Do not worry, little sister. Nothing is ever as hopeless as it seems. As long as you are under my protection and follow my advice, all will be well." 

A gong rang from another part of the house. The asobimi glanced up and concluded, "We have no more time to chat. I must change my robes and get ready for the evening. Thank you for coming to me with your troubles. I swear you will not be disappointed. Shall we schedule a 'koto lesson' for tomorrow at the Second Hour of the Snake? I should have learned something by then." 

Kimiko blinked. This sudden change from a languid, soft-spoken friend to crisp, no-nonsense business woman made her mind reel. Which was the real Cobweb? 

As if reading her thoughts, the courtesan chuckled. "Remember that a comely face does not always reflect the soul within, Kimiko-chan. I like you, that is true, but I never let friendship get in the way of business. This is double good fortune for me; not only will I have a court connection who owes me her life, but I will also put a spoke in the Regent's wheel! Eeee! What could be better!" 

Kimiko realized that she had been fooled by Cobweb's generosity and gentle manner. All along, the courtesan had worn a mask, hoping to lure her into a confession which she could use. Anger at her own stupidity warred with shame. She sat silently for a moment, allowing the emotions to pass so she could look at things from a more detached perspective. 

Finally, the girl asked, "Have you known all along who I am?" 

"Rumor flies more swiftly than a lightning bolt," Cobweb said. "Before you had shaken the sand out of your sandals, the whole of Hanamachi knew your identity. It is a good thing you have decided to place yourself in my hands. You may not like it, little sister, and I know this dares your anger, but I expect you to act as your birth dictates and accept the debt honorably." 

Kimiko knew she could do no less. "The risk is greater than the reward," she said pointedly, having run several scenarios through her mind. "My wrath is not really a consideration, is it? After all, I am virtually powerless. But should I return to court, it is doubtful I could be of real use to you." 

Cobweb wrinkled her nose. "Who can say what is useful and what is not? That is my concern, not yours." 

"Gomen nasai, but I think it is very much my concern." 

The two women stared at one another, eyes probing for any sign of weakness. Kimiko had once considered Cobweb a lightweight, a creature of gossamer and sighs, child-like and naive. She was swiftly learning otherwise. The atmosphere of gaiety and playful conspiracy between friends had disappeared like a summer mist, blown away by Cobweb's deliberate unmasking. The idea that she had been deceived still stung, but Kimiko refused to let her mind be lulled into complacency again. She was determined to survive, to live and search for Ayumi, and she would strike whatever devil's bargain necessary. 

Kimiko let the steel in her soul show through her gaze, and at last, the courtesan looked away. "If Lord Old Fart loses enough face," Cobweb confessed in a low voice, "the Honorable Dowager may notice me. It would not be the first time a concubine has been chosen from the low born and risen to the heights." 

Kimiko understood Cobweb's game instantly. "So... you save me from uncle-san, he loses some support in the Palace as a result of this embarrassment, Lady Hisame falls upon you weeping with gratitude, and you get a chance to play Clouds-and-Rain with the Mikado as soon as he sprouts a man's grass. High stakes, indeed." 

"Whether you know it or not, you have friends among the daimyo," Cobweb said. "They will support you when the time comes. You must tell the Dowager how I courageously aided you against the Kanpuko, doing this for the good of the Empire. Tell her how I, a frightened and foolish courtesan, saved the life of Fujiwara no Kimiko. Insist she grant me an interview. Use your influence with the daimyo and the nobles - and your marriage obligations to the Dowager - to push her into accepting me as an Imperial concubine. After that, you will owe me no more." 

The scheme was more than plausible - it had a very good chance of working. The only problem was that Cobweb obviously had no idea that Kimiko was not in Lady Hisame's good graces. Quite the opposite, in fact. But Kimiko was not going to reveal this tidbit. 

If she knew my influence with Old Lady Spider was nonexistent, she would drop me like an ember-baked yam. As much as I am disgusted by her selfish plan, the fact is that I still need an ally - and Cobweb, while not perfect, will have to do.

Kimiko bowed. "I accept your assistance and your price," she said. "Should fate decree that we both remain in this world, I will do as you've asked. When we meet again, I expect you will have some information for me?" 

"Of course." Satisfied that she'd won, Cobweb tossed her head and smirked. "Stay close to me, little sister. I have much invested in your safety now." 

Kimiko did not reply. Instead, she bowed once more and made her way back to her own rooms. When she nearly bumped into Auntie Dragonfly in the corridor, she merely grunted an apology and kept walking, too absorbed in her own thoughts to pay attention to the older woman's scowl. 

Off of the grill and into the cooking fire. Shigata ga nai. Ayumi was right. When the gods start hurling chamberpots, they certainly don't spare the rain of divine dung.
 
 

CHAPTER FIVE - The Peasant's Path

Kono ya wa kari no yado ----- This world is but a travelers' inn

Thousand Pine Forest
10 ri from the northern face of Mount Hiei and nearly 50 ri from Heian-kyo

Ayumi came slowly out of a deep sleep, her senses numbed, eyelids so heavy, it felt as though they were weighted with chains. For a moment she lay there quietly, gathering back the pieces of herself that had drifted into the kingdom of dreams and were reluctant to return. 

When she finally felt coherent enough to open her eyes, she was surprised to realize it was still dark. False dawn had washed palest gray across the sky, blotting out the stars - that much Ayumi could glimpse through the open door - but the sun goddess still hid her blazing face behind night's mantle. 

What had awakened her, then? 

Years of combat training and practical experience had left the samurai with extremely good instincts for danger, and an uncanny ability to react without conscious thought. Once, when chasing bandits for her former lord, Yorimachi-sama, she had been sound asleep when a cut-throat attacked. The samurai had woken up in a defensive squat with her sword in her hand, the man already dead, and the camp decorated with his entrails. 

Ayumi strained her ears, listening intently for... what? The stealthy footsteps of thief or assassin? A faint chiming of metal on metal? The subtle hiss of a knife drawn from its sheath? 

All she heard was a cricket chirping, "Chiyo! Chiyo!" as he blessed the coming day, the muted buzz of Snow Fairy's snoring, and the wind rustling dead leaves outside. 

Her eyes darted back and forth, struggling to make sense of the hut's interior. Was that a pile of clothes or a kneeling man? Was the sullen glint of embers in the brazier being obscured by a shadow that shouldn't be there? What were the ill-defined lumps that crouched in every corner - ordinary objects obscured by gloom or enemies making ready for the slaughter? 

Ayumi squinted, allowing her hand to stray to the hilt of her katana. Something was near - she could sense it - and her muscles coiled in preparation for immediate action. As soon as the threat was identified, it would be eliminated. 

Suddenly, she felt a touch on the side of her face. A feather light caress, just barely skimming the surface of her skin and raising goosebumps on her arms and legs. Sweat beaded up on her forehead. With agonizing slowness, the samurai rolled her eyes to the left and tried desperately to focus on whatever was an inch away from her. 

The touch came again, this time with more confidence. 

Her vision cleared. 

With a blood-curdling yell, Ayumi sprang out of bed, going from horizontal to vertical in a single spastic movement. She began laying about with her sword, dancing from foot to foot, slashing at the straw mattress with all her strength. 

Snow Fairy, roused by all the commotion, rolled off her pallet by the brazier. Digging her knuckles into her eyes, she suppressed the panicked urge to be in six different places at once and instead shouted, "What is it? Are we under attack?"

Ayumi grunted and continued to hack at her former resting place. Shredded bits of straw floated up and fell in a snowstorm flurry around her naked form, sticking to sweating skin and tangled hair. "Filthy, disgusting, horrible!"

The priestess blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of things. She could sense no danger here, and briefly wondered if the gods Ayumi had insulted earlier had driven the samurai mad. Hooking her fingers together, she summoned a trickle of kami magic and breathed a single word - "Fire." 

Instantly, the brazier roared to life, flames billowing and roiling towards the ceiling. Snow Fairy quickly glanced around the room, but could see no human opponents. "What is wrong with you?" she cried. "Ayumi-san, talk to me!" 

Ayumi continued to hop around and slash violently at an invisible enemy. Abandoning the gutted mattress, she pursued her foe outside, ignoring the icy frost that burned the bottoms of her feet, and began stomping an innocent clump of pampas grass flat. 

"Yada! Yada! Yada!" the samurai squealed in disgust. "Horrible!" 

Snow Fairy doused the fire with a muttered command and hurried out into the cold. She dared not lay hands on the apparently insane woman - that katana was sharp, and who knew what delusions Ayumi was battling? Rather than suffer the same fate as the mattress, Snow decided to watch and wait. 

Dawn finally came, a slender crescent of light that seemed to hesitate, then spill like a waterfall over the side of the mountain. Broad ribbons of pink, gold and magenta curled across the sky, painting the tall trees with iridescent color. Ayumi's nude flesh glowed; for a moment, Snow Fairy was dazzled by the sight of the samurai's firm breasts, nipples gilded by pure sunlight, and the play of muscles in her buttocks as she jumped up and down.

At last, Ayumi stopped. Triumphantly, she pointed to a small, dark stain on the grass. "Got him, the filthy kisama!"

Carefully, Snow stepped over to the samurai's side and politely peered at the object of Ayumi's destructive wrath. "A spider?"

"Hai!" Ayumi stripped a handful of leaves from a nearby bush and began cleaning her sword. "Nasty, horrible things!" She shuddered. "I hate spiders!"

The priestess sucked in a breath and bit her lip. "Please excuse me, honored one, but do you mean to tell me that all this fuss was about a tiny, harmless spider?"

Ayumi frowned. "Tiny? That thing was the size of my head!"

Snow twitched, trying to control the laughter that threatened to pour from her throat. All her efforts were fruitless, however. In moments, she was giggling uncontrollably. "Unless the gods have shrunk your head to the size of an orange seed...," she gasped, and then was unable to continue. 

Somewhat sheepishly, Ayumi glanced down at the squashed remains and her lips quirked up in a smile. "You're right," she admitted. "It is somewhat ridiculous." 

"Ridiculous!" Snow howled. "I wish you could have seen yourself, leaping around like a monkey in heat!"

Ayumi began to chuckle. "It was walking on my face!"

"And you thought that the mother of all web walkers was about to devour your liver! Eeeee! I've never seen anything so funny!"

It was the mental picture that did it. Imagining what she must have looked like - one raving, naked warrior against a small spider - made Ayumi howl as well. Both women fell to their knees, pounding the ground and wheezing.

"I thought you'd gone mad," Snow confessed, breaking into a new spate of giggles every few seconds. "There you were, acting as if we were being attacked by Black Emma himself!" She stood up, grabbed a stick and struck a martial pose, chest out and shoulders squared.

"Against such an inhuman foe," the priestess declaimed in a deep voice, sweeping one foot in front of the other, "the samurai could only act valiantly. In fear of her life, the brave Ayumi-san took up the sword and began to fight, using all her skills and knowledge. I could tell you how long the battle raged - how first one side, and then the other, seemed to conquer, only for their triumph to be reversed. But what's the point?"

She crossed her right eye and grimaced theatrically, imitating a well-known kabuki actor. "In the end, honor and valor saved the day!" 

Ayumi laughed and smacked her hand against her thigh. "Very good! With an act like that, you should've never abandoned the stage for the temple." 

Snow bowed and dropped the stick. "Domo arigato. Now, since dawn has arrived and we have many ri to go before we reach the other side of the mountain, may I suggest we get dressed and eat now? Unless you'd rather spend the time doing cremation ceremonies for your vanquished enemy."

"Iye! I apologize, honored priestess. A samurai should never show fear, but spiders!" Ayumi shivered violently. "I hate spiders!"

Snow grinned, a hint of mischief sparkling in her pink eyes. "I used to think you had no weaknesses, honored one, but I'm glad to discover that you are human after all."

Ayumi made a face and stood up, brushing dirt and grass from her buttocks. For a moment, when fear-induced hysteria had sought release in laughter, she'd almost forgotten their desperate mission. Am I so heartless, so dishonored, that I would put Kimiko from my mind with such ease? How can I smile and be gay when the woman I love is in danger of her life?

The thought sobered her immediately. She felt deeply ashamed, not only for the ridiculous spider-killing display, but for losing sight - just for a moment - of her lady's plight.

"Let's eat and go," Ayumi said abruptly. "My feet are itching to be on the road."

Watching the samurai stalk back to the hut with enormous dignity, Snow Fairy sighed.

She had a feeling that it was going to be a very, very long day.

Dressed in peasant's gear and trudging up the steep path, Ayumi checked Snow Fairy's appearance out of the corner of her eye. 

The priestess had blackened her silvery brows with ashes, and rubbed her skin with dirt in order to conceal its pallor. She had shaved her head completely, losing forelock and rat-tail braid. To cover her baldness, Snow wore the bottom of a straw basket perched atop her crown like a hat, held in place with a thin strip of cloth pulled tight and tied beneath her chin. 

Like Ayumi, she wore plain kimono, hakama and a blue padded jacket. Both women had spent a few minutes roughening the new clothing with rocks and splashes of mud to make it look more worn. Fingerless gloves hid their hands from casual inspection, and their trousers were tucked into tight leggings of heavy ribbed cotton, which bulked out their calves. 

The samurai had let down her shaggy hair and tied a towel over it, fastening it in place with a knot beneath her lower lip. The folds of the towel over her cheeks altered the shape of her face, although Snow Fairy complained that her typical cock-of-the-dungheap walk and direct, icy gaze were sure to alert a guard to their disguises. 

"Peasants scurry, they don't strut," Snow said. "You must keep your eyes on the ground, bow in the presence of authority - especially samurais! - and for the love of the kami, don't forget to kowtow to daimyo or nobles!"

Ayumi was not feeling very comfortable. Part of this had to do with the haramaki wound tightly around her body from belly to upper chest; poor folks wore this long strip of cloth to ward off colds, but the samurai suffered it to bind down her small breasts. Her torso, back, shoulders and arms were muscular enough to allow her to pass as a young man, but she hated the sensation of being constantly constrained by the haramaki. 

Her disquiet was also created by the fact that she could not wear her swords. Snow had argued for them being left behind in the hut - no peasant could carry arms on penalty of death, and a villager caught with daisho would be executed on the spot - but Ayumi had refused to entertain the notion at all. A samurai's soul was guarded by the twin swords of their rank, and abandoning them was anathema, against every tenet of sacred bushido. 

Now, in the furoshiki bundle she carried on her back, the swords were wrapped up in several layers of clothing and hidden amongst their meager supplies. The big square of cloth also held Snow's ragged priestess garb, a fire starting kit, some dried food and extra straw sandals. Neither woman had any money.

In lieu of a real weapon, Ayumi carried a slender bamboo walking stick. The iron cap of the stick could be removed, exposing a sharp spear blade about the length of a man's hand. Bandits thinking to rob two helpless peasants would be in for a nasty shock.

When they reached the top after several hours, Snow Fairy stopped and let out a sigh of appreciation. From their vantage point, she could see the entire city of Heian-kyo spread out on the plain below. Two rivers flowed on either side of the town, and the Imperial Palace reared up at one end and sprawled outward, like a lazy dragon basking its bones in the sun. Off to one side, the walled compound of Hanamachi blossomed as colorfully as a poisonous flower.

The other side of Mount Hiei was dotted with temples, many carved directly into the stone of the mountain. These were the retreats of the awesome yamabushi, demon quellers and slayers of monsters. Although ostensibly a Shinto sect, the yamabushi were, in reality, little better than bullies who used their occult powers to blackmail the Emperor into supporting their lavish lifestyles. Periodically, they swept down into Heian-kyo, burning and looting, as an object lesson and warning to the court. The daimyos' armies could not stop them, and in four hundred years, no one had ever found a way of vanquishing these mountain priests permanently. 

Ayumi sucked in a deep breath and adjusted the furoshiki on her back. "I do not think the yamabushi will molest pilgrims. I say we walk boldly around their temples, and not creep from bush to bush like frightened rabbits."

"Who knows what the mountain priests will do these days?" Snow replied, licking her lips. "They are unpredictable. We have no coin to offer in tribute, either." 

"I'm not going to waste my time trying to placate men who are supposed to be holy. Kamawan, remember? If the gods aren't going to get in my way, what makes you think I'll tolerate interfering yamabushi? Let them try; I'll kick their fat backsides straight into Hell." 

Snow Fairy opened her mouth, and after a moment's pause, closed it again, a pained look sweeping across her face.

Ayumi noticed the priestess' expression and demanded, "What is it? You look like a speared frog!"

"Konnichiwa, honorable pilgrims," a strange voice answered.

The samurai spun around, swallowing a shout of surprise and rage. A yamabushi stood on the path with them; the man's hair, uncut since his vows, hung in a wildly tangled mass down his back. A bristling beard clawed its way down his cheeks, leaving only his eyes exposed. He was firm fleshed and clad in the white and red robes of his office; a tiny, hexagonal hat was perched on his head, just above the brows.

The priest continued, "I am Brother Oyu." He bowed shallowly, hands thrust into the sleeves of his robe. "It will greatly please our temple if you will condescend to pay a visit and worship at our shrine."

Ayumi contemplated the wisdom of unsheathing her spear and sticking it into his belly. Something of this thought must have shown itself in her face, for Oyu bared his teeth in an unfriendly grimace and jerked his head forward. Instantly, several other yamabushi appeared from the bushes, completely surrounding the women. All of them were armed.

The samurai surveyed the glinting circle of sharpened steel with narrowed eyes. She might be able to disable some of them, enough so Snow Fairy could get away and rescue Kimiko, but that was about as unlikely as the sky raining gold koban. On the other hand, the great Musashi had written: "If your enemy thinks of the mountains, attack like the sea; and if he thinks of the sea, attack like the mountains."

Accordingly, Ayumi decided to change her strategy. Direct force was not a good option; perhaps guile was. If Brother Oyu had overheard her conversation with Snow Fairy, her plan wouldn't work. However, if he had not, then she could only hope the priestess was quick enough on the uptake to play along.

She let the pole slide from her grasp and stood, shoulders hunched, head cocked to one side. Letting her lower lip protrude in an exaggerated pout, she deepened her voice and mumbled a few nonsense words, absently scratching her crotch.

To her relief, Snow immediately grasped her intention. "Please excuse my elder brother," she said hastily, grabbing Ayumi's arm and pulling her forward. "He was hit in the head by a rock a few months ago; we're making a pilgrimage to Ise Shrine to see the healer there. Yumo, make your bow to the priest."

Ayumi bowed jerkily, letting her eyes roll in their sockets and drawing her lips back in a grotesque smile. Oyu gazed at her keenly and toed the fallen bamboo walking stick. "Is Yumo violent, my child?"

Snow shook her head, still bowing - up and down, up and down, like a puppet being controlled by an overzealous amateur. "Oh, no, "she cried, "please forgive my poor, stupid brother. He's strong but harmless as a baby, really. Aren't you, Yumo?"

Ayumi mumbled some more and let her hands tremble slightly. She'd seen similar symptoms in a ronin who had suffered severe head injuries.

"He's our father's only son, you see," Snow babbled. "Father sent me with him, to keep Yumo out of trouble. If the Merciful One grants our prayers for healing, then I will take vows at the temple. Please, kind brother, we haven't any money. It wouldn't be right for us to worship at your shrine without making an offering. Iye, it wouldn't be right. Yumo, bow to the priests like a good boy." 

After another minute's contemplation, Brother Oyu gestured and the yamabushi's weapons snapped away. Stepping close to Ayumi, he grasped the samurai's chin and forced her head up, trying to meet her gaze. Ayumi fidgeted, jerked and murmured frantically, flapping her arms and shuffling in place while Oyu's keen eyes probed suspiciously. As a finishing touch, the samurai bit her tongue and allowed a thin stream of saliva mixed with blood to dribble down her chin. 

Finally, the priest let go of the supposed idiot and stepped away, wiping his hand on his robe. "I will offer prayers for Yumo's healing," he said, lip curling in disgust. "Keep to the path, pilgrims, and do not stray." He sketched a blessing symbol in the air, turned around and led his followers back down the side of the mountain, taking a hidden trail that swallowed them up in moments.

Ayumi waited for them to be completely out of sight before she stopped whimpering and jerking. Snow Fairy stalked over and wiped a finger across her chin. "The blood was a bit overdone," the priestess said critically.

"There were too many to fight," Ayumi replied with a shrug, scooping her bamboo pole from the ground, "and I was fairly certain that you could not rescue Kimiko alone."

"Not bad for a beginner." Snow put her hands on her hips and grinned. "However, I think we should be a little more cautious in the future and try to avoid the yamabushi altogether. I don't think they'll be fooled twice."

Ayumi nodded in agreement. "Why do you think they had guards up here? Is this usual?"

"Not when I was here last. I wonder what has changed?"

"We will keep our ears open as we go. Perhaps we will learn something of interest." 

"Like how to throw the most extravagant fit since the actor, Danjuro-san, had a hornet fly down his hakama during a performance?" 

"Mou! Enough teasing, more walking!" Ayumi settled the bundle of belongings more firmly on her back and started down the path.

Snow laughed softly but was nevertheless troubled.

What were the yamabushi up to? 

As she hurried to catch up to the rapidly disappearing samurai, Snow couldn't suppress a shiver of mingled anticipation and dread. 

CHAPTER SIX - Night Visitors

Kwaho wa, nete mate ----- If you want good luck, sleep and wait

Hanamachi, the Flower District outside Heian-kyo
The Brocade Tree, a brothel
3 a.m., the second Hour of the Ox 

Squatting in the fork of a persimmon tree in the Brocade Tree's garden, a pair of Shideyama ninjas waited patiently for the right time to strike. 

The brothel was built in the same style as the Karan aristocracy - four low, rectangular buildings joined at the corners, with a garden in the open center. Verandahs ran the entire length of each side; every room opened to this private paradise, which also housed a small bathhouse and smaller toilet. 

Even at this late hour, lights glowed through most of the shoji doors; muted music and laughter mingled with passionate cries. The ninjas kept their glittering gazes fixed on one room in particular, where the screens were dark, the occupant silent. 

Finally, the ninja in charge signaled to his subordinate; they both swung down out of the tree and ghosted across the garden, skillfully keeping to the darkest shadows, striving to remain unseen and unnoticed. It had been impressed upon them by the Master that there were to be no witnesses to this event. 

Both ninjas froze into place when a drunken samurai reeled out onto the verandah, parted his kimono and began pissing with grunts of satisfaction. The yellow flow steamed gently, pattering like hot raindrops mere inches away from their faces. One of the assassins pulled a blowpipe from his dusty gray jacket and put it to his lips, but this precaution proved unnecessary. The samurai returned to his party and slid the door closed behind him, oblivious to the presence of death amid the frost-blackened azaleas and tree peonies. 

Rather than continue their journey immediately, the ninjas stayed concealed, just in case there were more interruptions. The subordinate, named Kayoubi, hissed softly in his superior's ear, "Please excuse me, Taro, but you never answered my question. Why are you here at all? I could have taken care of this job myself, if the Master had given me a chance." 

"To ensure you do not make mistakes," the elder ninja answered, just as quietly. 

Kayoubi swelled with indignation, although his voice never rose above a gentle whisper. "Are you saying I'm incapable of eliminating one unarmed, untrained, helpless girl? That's insulting!" 

"You have a big mouth," Taro warned, "and you talk too much. Kill the Fujiwara girl alone, if it means that much to you, but do it in silence." 

"Perhaps I will." Kayoubi drew a twist of rope from the hidden pocket in his trouser leg. It had wooden handles at each end and could be slipped over the victim's head from behind with fatal results - in the younger ninja's estimation, a perfect tool for silent slaying. "You stay here; it won't take me more than a few moments to eliminate the target." 

Taro would have preferred a knife - slashing a victim's jugular was a much quicker method - but he acquiesced to the younger man's confident enthusiasm. "Go, then," he replied sourly. "Don't take too long or I'll leave for Death Mountain shrine without you." 

A rustle in the bushes to their left made both men freeze, listening intently. 

After a moment, they relaxed... only to tense up again as the subtle rustle was repeated, this time much closer. 

Suddenly, something reared above them - a grotesque vision illuminated by moonlight that would have stopped a lesser man's heart and reduced him to gibbering insanity. Despite their mutual horror, the ninjas reacted instinctively. Taro, the more level-headed professional, tossed a handful of poison powder straight into the monster's face with no result. Kayoubi dropped his garotte, drew his short sword and was crushed to pulp in a heartbeat by one of the creature's hairy limbs. 

Grimly, Taro blinked his companion's blood out of his eyes and tried to reach his own sword, but it was too late. A single blow smashed him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. 

He lay prone, staring up at a creature born of nightmares in dazed disbelief. The monster straddled his body and thrust its face against his, advising in a hiss, "It is not wise to interfere with another predator's prey. Return to your Master and tell him that the Fujiwara girl is claimed by another." 

Taro nodded. His eyes rolled to the shapeless mass of bone and bloody tissue that had been Kayoubi, and the creature laughed. That soft susurration, barely audible above the whispering wind, made his bladder release its contents in a stinking gush. 

"Spare no more thought for your friend," the monster said in a strangely musical voice. "Consider his death as just payment for disturbing my slumber." 

"Hai," Taro managed to force out through chattering teeth. "I will so inform the Master." 

A shrewd gleam came into the creature's eyes. It tore the hood from Taro's face with a jerk. "You may also inform the Kanpuko that he need not yet arrange his niece's funeral." 

The ninja's face, which was already pale, blanched further. "How-how-how did you know?" The Regent's connection to the Shideyama clan was one of the best kept secrets in Wa. 

"I was not sure, until you told me just now." The monster released him and scuttled backwards. "Now go, and don't fail to deliver my warning. If the Master wishes to test my prowess by sending more fools against me, then I shall welcome them with open arms... and a hungry belly." 

It smacked its lips and rubbed its distended abdomen, then scurried over to Kayoubi's crushed remains and began feasting with chilling efficiency. 

Taro needed no second invitation. Scrambling up from the ground, he fled into the night as silently as he had arrived, thanking Amatsu Mikaboshi-sama, the August Star of Heaven, for deliverance from being eaten alive. Facing his Master's rage and disappointment were as nothing compared to that fate. 

Behind him, he thought he could still hear the soft slurping sounds of the monster at its banquet. It was an illusion that lent wings to his feet. 

The ninja hoped he would be granted a swift death for his failure. 

Anything was preferable to living with that awful sound ripping his soul to shreds night after night in his dreams. 

Yukan, cross-eyed maid to the asobimi Bikei, stifled a shocked gasp and ducked back inside the toilet. The events she had just witnessed rippled like flames across her mind. 

The dungpit stank, though not as terribly as in the heat of summer, but she took comfort in the familiar reek of ammonia and musty waste. It meant that she was awake, not laying on her thin pallet listening to Bikei moan in pretended passion at the fumblings of a doddering daimyo.

She recognized the monster in the garden - its form may have changed radically, but the still beautiful face was unmistakable. How could she have lived here for eight years and never noticed? Eight years dwelling in ignorance of a demon! Ma! She would have to burn incense immediately and make a suitable offering to the gods for protecting her so long.

That thought led to another and Yukan's heart contracted in fear. It was bad enough that ninjas were seeking her wonderful Kimiko-san's life, but a demonic threat on top of this one was enough to make her frantic. She wished they could flee together, run away and leave poisonous Hanamachi forever! But that solution had as much substance as an opium dream. 

Yukan shook her head sadly. Kimiko would never return the love of a lowly maid, let alone leave the comforts and luxuries to which she had become accustomed. No, Kimiko-san was as far above Yukan as the stars to a miserable worm. The maid rasped her work reddened hands together, wishing with all her might that there was some way she could save the precious lady. 

A bold idea suddenly presented itself and she gasped at its audacity. 

Everyone knew that demons had the wealth of the earth at their fingertips. A monster that dared threaten ninjas was powerful, indeed, and presumably also very rich. Why it would choose to take a courtesan's disguise was unknown, but what mortal could understand the ways of Hell? It was enough that woman clearly desired concealment of her true form and purpose. 

Yukan's crossed eyes narrowed. An opportunity like this came but once in a lifetime, if it came at all, and only a fool ignored the possibility to better one's life at the expense of another's. 

She went to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out into the garden. The monster was gone, as was the body of its victim. She waited for fifteen tense minutes, but it did not return. Breathing a sigh of relief, Yukan slipped out of the toilet and made her way back to Bikei's room. 

Her step was full of purpose, her soul a-brim with cunning. 

She would hold her information over the monster's head like a sword, receive payment for her silence, then spirit Kimiko away to another, better place. The lady and her devoted maid would live together happily on Hell's gold, and nothing would ever threaten them again. Meat twice a day and all the love in the world, ripe for the plucking. In her estimation, the dangers were negligible for so great a reward. 

The more she thought about it, the more her dream seemed to come closer and closer to her grasp. Yukan clutched this beautiful plan to her bosom with secret glee, already tasting tea-smoked duck and Kimiko's kisses. 

For once, the miserable were going to triumph over the mighty. 

Wasn't life a wonderful thing?

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