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to me to follow him and then walked away into the forest behind our
house." He made a visible effort to master his emotions and got to his
feet. "We're leaving right away, aren't we? I'll go and get the horses
ready."
I thought of the dream I had had about my mother and wondered what the
dead were trying to tell us. In the dawn light the shrine looked more
ghostly than ever. It was a bitter, hostile place and I could not wait
to leave it.
The horses were fresh after the days of rest, and we rode fast. It was
still hot and oppressive, with gray clouds and no wind. I looked back
at the beach as we went up the cliff path, wondering about the
fisherman and his remaining child, but there was no sign of life from
the hovels. We were all jumpy. My ears were alert to every sound,
straining to hear above the pounding of the horses' feet and the creak
and jingle of the harness as well as the dull roaring of the sea.
At the top of the cliff I halted for a moment and gazed out toward
Oshima. It was hidden in the mist, but a heavy crown of clouds showed
where it lay.
Jiro had stopped alongside me, the others riding on into the forest
ahead. There was a moment of silence, and in that moment I heard the
unmistakable sound, somewhere between a creak and a sigh, of a
bowstring being drawn.
I shouted out a warning to Jiro and tried to reach him to push him
down, but Shun leaped sideways, almost unseating me, and I found myself
clinging to his neck. Jiro turned his head and looked
toward the forest. The arrow passed whistling above me and struck him in
the eye.
He let out a cry of shock and pain; his hands went to his face and then
he fell forward onto his horse's neck. The horse neighed in alarm,
bucked a little, and tried to take off after its companions in front,
its rider swinging helplessly from side to side.
Shun stretched out his neck and went snaking across the ground toward
the shelter of the trees. Ahead, Makoto and the guards had turned. One
of the men rode forward and managed to grab the panicked horse by the
bridle.
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Makoto lifted Jiro from the saddle, but by the time I reached them the
boy had died. The arrow had penetrated right through his head,
shattering the back of the skull. I dismounted, cut off the bolt, and
drew out the shaft. The arrow was massive and fletched with eagle
feathers. The bow that had sent it must have been huge, the sort that
solitary bowmen use.
I was filled with almost unbearable anguish. The shot had been meant
for me. If I had not heard it and evaded it, Jiro would not be dead.
Mad rage erupted in me. I would kill his murderer or die myself. Makoto
said in a whisper, "It must be an ambush. Let's take shelter and see
how many there are."
"No, this was meant for me," I replied, as quietly. "This is the work
of the Tribe. Stay here; take cover. I'm going after him. There will be
only one--two at the most." I did not want the men with me. Only I
could move silently and invisibly; only I had the skills to get close
to this assassin. "Come when I call you; I want to take him alive."
Makoto said, "If there's only one, rather than take cover we'll ride
on. Give me your helmet; I'll ride Shun. We may be able to confuse him.
He'll follow us and you can come on him from behind."
I did not know how far this deception would work or how close
the bowman was. He would have seen the arrow miss me. He would guess
I'd be after him. But if my men rode ahead, at least they would not be
hindering me. The bowman might be anywhere in the forest by now, but I
reckoned I could move faster and more silently than he could. As the
horses trotted off with their sad burden, I went invisible and ran up
the slope, threading my way between the trees. I did not think the
bowman would have stayed in the place from which he had sent the fatal
arrow; I figured he would have moved in a southwest direction to cut us
off where the road turned back to the south. But even if he was still
watching us, unless he had supreme Tribe skills, he would not know
where I was now.
Before long I heard the sounds of a man breathing and the slight
pressure of a foot on the soft earth. I stopped and held my own breath.
He passed within ten paces of me without seeing me.
It was Kikuta Hajime, the young wrestler from Matsue, with whom I had
trained. I had last seen him at the wrestlers' stable when I had left
for Hagi with Akio. I had imagined then that he had thought he would
never see me again. But Akio had not been able to kill me as he had
planned, and now Hajime had been sent against me. The huge bow was
slung over his shoulder; he moved, like most heavy men, balanced on the
outside of his feet and, despite his weight, swiftly and silently. Only
my ears could have discerned him.
I followed him toward the road where I could hear the horses ahead of
us, moving at a swift canter as if in flight. I even heard one of the
guards shout to Makoto to ride faster, addressing him as Lord Otori,
making me grin bitterly at the deception. My quarry and I went at speed
up the slope and down again and came out on a rocky outcrop that gave a
good vantage point over the road beneath.
Hajime planted his feet firmly on the rock and took the bow from his
shoulder. He set the arrow in the cord; I heard him take a deep breath
as he drew it back: The muscles stood out on his arms and rippled
across his neck. In close combat with him I wouldn't stand a chance. I
could probably get him with Jato if I took him from behind, but I'd
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have to be sure to kill him with the first blow, and I wanted to take
him alive.
He stood motionless, waiting for his target to appear from under the
trees. I could barely hear his breathing now. I knew the technique he
was using and I was familiar enough with the training he'd undergone to
recognize his total concentration. He was one with the bow, with the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]