Deadly Flowers by Sarah L. Thomson
I snorted very softly.
“Never mind, sweet, your father will find you a good husband, too!” she consoled me before she took a closer look at my face. Then she sighed, offered me an unconvincing smile that showed off her three remaining teeth, and slipped a little more rice into my bowl.
I swallowed it in one gulp and got to my feet. Saiko delicately patted her lips clean with her fingers as I counted out a few copper coins for our meal. “How much farther to the ford, Kata?” she asked. Then she gasped, because my foot had connected sharply with her ankle.
I herded her and her brother out the door. “If you can’t be intelligent, can you at least be quiet?” I snarled, not quite under my breath.
“You didn’t have to kick so hard,” Saiko protested once we were back on the road, drawing up one leg to rub her ankle.
“It needed to look convincing,” I said, trying to hide the fact that it had been just a little satisfying as well.
“But why did you want her to say that about the ford?” Ichiro asked, as his sister limped after us.
“Yes, why bother to say it?” Saiko added. “It’s the only way across the river, after all.”
“If you can keep up, you’ll find out.”
Our road took us back and forth across a steep slope, and neither of them questioned me further; they needed their breath for climbing. Now more than ever, we could not afford to be too slow.
We’d reached the shade of a small stand of trees when I looked back and saw what I had feared—a dust cloud moving fast along the road behind us.
Inside that dust cloud, I could spot horse’s heads—three of them. And three helmets. Armed samurai, Kashihara retainers, no doubt. Sent by Lord Hikosane and searching for us.
Fear, at last, gave Saiko’s feet speed. But I didn’t let her run, or Ichiro, either. Right now, we were only three peasant children walking along the road. Running would turn us into targets.
It took the men perhaps fifteen minutes to reach the hut where we’d stopped for food. By that time we’d rounded the next switchback and were working our way along a new stretch of slope, still in full view of the riders below. With quick glances, I could see two of them dismount and vanish inside the hut. One stayed with the horses.
The village wife who’d fed us would tell them that the pretty girl and her two companions were headed for the ford. I found myself hoping she’d tell them quickly, before they broke any of her few possessions. Or her bones.
Walk. Keep walking. Don’t stop. Don’t run.
How many hours had I spent poring over maps of this district, drawing them from memory, earning a slap for the slightest mistake? It was useful now. We had reached a hunting trail that branched off from the main road, heading straight up the hillside. I sent Saiko and Ichiro before me, a hands-and-knees scramble.
The samurai below were remounting. I wrenched a leafy branch off a tree and used it to brush out our tracks on the dirt of the roadside. Then—I murmured fervent thanks to the spirit of the mountain—I saw what I needed. A cedar sapling had fallen, the rocky ground too shallow for its roots. I grabbed it and heaved the entire thing over the path behind me, just where it met the road.
Men on horseback, riding quickly, men who did not know this road well, might miss the trail. Might ride right past it.
Please.
Ichiro and Saiko were crawling into the underbrush. Good. I yanked my short sword from my pack, heaved myself up a little rocky outcrop that overlooked the road, and dropped flat in the dry grass.
Carefully, I edged forward, so that I could see the road, perhaps six or seven feet below. But I could not be seen.
The horsemen were coming. I could hear the thump of hooves on packed dirt.
I had two throwing knives, one up each sleeve. My left hand was not quite as strong as my right, but I’d have to do my best. Slowly, slowly, I drew my sword. The oiled metal slid noiselessly from its sheath. I laid it on the dusty grass beside me and gripped a knife in each hand.
I could hear more than hoofbeats now—the heavy breathing and snorting of horses working hard, the creak and clatter of armor and saddlery. They’d eased from a canter into a walk as the slope steepened.
Horses could not make it up the narrow hunting trail. If these samurai spotted it, they’d have to dismount. And I’d have to be quick.
A knife for the first, and the same for the second. If the third had any sense, he’d leave his comrades and race back to his horse, in order to get word of us to his master. I’d have to stop him before he did that. I’d have to hope that, like most samurai, he cared more for honor than sense, and that he would stay to fight.
But it would be so much better if they never saw the trail at all.
I’d been trained to fight all my life. But even more, I’d been trained not to fight.
Run. Hide. Escape. Only fight if you must. And only fight if you can win.
This time I wasn’t sure that I could win.
They were close now. I could see the lacquer of their armor, the deep colors beneath the road dust—blue, red, brown. I could see the black lacing that tied the plates of armor together, and the dragonfly emblem each man wore on his shoulder. They had bows strapped to their saddles, quivers on their backs. One had taken off his helmet in the heat. I saw his right ear—or what was left of it.
Then—unbelievably, maddeningly—I heard Saiko sneeze.
If I’d heard it, could the samurai have missed it? It was such a human noise. Nothing an animal would make.
If they’d heard, they’d stop. They’d search. They’d find the trail.
Two knives, one sword, and one chance. One girl against three men.
How I wished the sound of that unlucky sneeze would never reach their ears.
A strange feeling washed through me—was it nerves? Was it fear? An icy shiver shook me from my scalp to my toes, and then the feeling was gone, and I was watching the backs of the three samurai as they rode on their way.
I lay motionless while the dust of their passage settled over me, coating me in fine gray grit. Then I slithered back through the grass and down to the trail.
“I couldn’t help it,” Saiko said humbly after she’d crawled out of her bush. “I’m sorry, Kata.”
I didn’t answer. What was the point? She was no ninja, never would be. She would slow me down, hinder me, and put all of us in danger until the moment I could unload her into her uncle’s care. It was useless to expect anything else.
“Who was your uncle’s man? The one who brought you to the school?” I asked, instead of slapping her senseless. “The one missing half his ear?”
“Daigoro. Why?”
I jerked my chin at the road. “He’s one of the ones who almost heard you sneeze.”
“You see, sister!” Ichiro had crawled out of his bush, too. “It is Daigoro! He’s trying to catch us before Uncle Hikosane does! I told you!” He looked absurdly happy to be the target of a samurai instead of a warlord.
“Or Hikosane sent him to find us,” Saiko countered.
“We’ll stay off the road,” I ordered curtly, before the two of them could start arguing again. What did it matter who was chasing us? Our goal was the same—not to get caught.
“But how are we going to reach the ford?” Saiko asked.
“We’re not.” I looked at their baffled faces and sighed. I wasn’t used to taking the time to explain myself or my choices. And yet I supposed things would be easier if these two had some idea of where we were headed. At least it would spare me from some of the questions.
“You think there’s only one way across the river,” I told Saiko and her brother. “Daigoro thinks so, too. You’re both wrong. Those samurai will ride on to the ford, and by the time they find out we didn’t go that way, it’ll be too late.”
Our path was clear enough to follow, but rough and rocky, and the best pace Saiko could manage seemed like a turtle’s crawl to me. A lifetime of learning to bow perfectly and sip sake delicately and walk gra
I chose a place along the stony bank, a fair distance from the trees all around us. I wanted as much open space as I could get, so that I’d be able to see anything coming. If only I knew what we might be looking for …
Ordinarily I would sleep cold on a mission; building a fire in the wilderness is as obvious as shouting “Here I am!” at the top of your lungs. But it was unlikely we’d be seen by other travelers this far from the road, and I felt sure there were things out here in the darkness that did not love light. Since we’d be in one place for several hours, those things might well be stirring, according to Ichiro. So we built a small blaze and gathered enough dry wood to keep it going until dawn.
I took the first watch. Ichiro and Saiko were asleep in minutes, their nerves no match for their exhaustion.
Awake, I sat with my back to the fire, my eyes on the line of trees. I wanted to keep my night vision sharp, and looking away from the light would help.
The deep rush of the river masked most of the other sounds, but if I concentrated, I could still hear the little winged and furry and scaly creatures whose calls and scuttlings and scurryings made up the murmur of the forest. If these sounds vanished, it would be time to hide—or fight. But for now, the forest was at peace.
Idly, I let my fingers play with the stones on the bank beside me. Most were flat and gray, but scattered in among them were a few quartz pebbles, round and white as pearls.
I picked one up and rolled it between my fingers.
Round and white as pearls …
I had barely had time to think about it, this thing that was tucked safely in a pocket hidden inside the lining of my jacket. This thing that was making soldiers search for me and demons hunt me down.
It was dangerous, this tiny jewel, this milky white heart of the sea. Was I being a fool to keep it with me? I could have sliced my own skin and given it to Madame when she’d returned to the school. Surely she would not have punished me for failing in my mission, if I’d handed her a gift from a god.
I could have used the pearl to bargain for forgiveness. Instead I’d chosen to run. Why?
Because it could buy me something greater than forgiveness. I understood exactly why I’d kept it as I sat there, listening to the water rush past, trapped in its stony bed. This pearl could buy me freedom.
I’d never been free in my life. When I was born, I’d belonged to whatever warlord had owned my parents. After that, I’d belonged to Madame and to the instructors, a tool forged by their hands. When I got old enough, or good enough, I had always known that Madame would sell me. Then I would belong to my new owner, and my usefulness would determine my value.
I’d never dreamed of anything else. But perhaps this pearl could buy me something I had never imagined.
All I had to do was learn what it was worth, and to whom. Then I’d give it up, for a price. The right price. Gold could buy me food, and clothes, and weapons. Gold could buy me a horse or passage on a ship. Gold could buy me a home in the capital, where my skills could be for sale to anyone who had more gold to pay me.
Once I had delivered Saiko and Ichiro safely to their uncle’s care, I could disappear, and take the pearl with me. My life could start again, and this time it would truly be my own.
Why should I wait? I could leave this moment. Ichiro and Saiko were asleep. Even if they had been awake, how could they stop me? I could drop my burdens here on this riverbank and vanish.
What would Saiko and Ichiro do then? Get lost? Starve? Fall down a mountain? Stumble right into the arms of the soldiers chasing them?
Probably. Why should it worry me?
But it did. I scowled into the darkness, irritated at the sense of responsibility that dragged at my conscience. I owed these two nothing. No debt, no loyalty. And yet I did not like the thought of abandoning them here.
So must I drag them through the wilderness, along miles of roads, over a mountain pass, dodging soldiers and demons all the way? I could hardly bear the thought. I could have covered so much more ground that day, if not for them. I’d be so much safer without them. They could not disappear into a crowd the way I knew how to. They’d draw the soldiers on our trail like bait on a hook.
The darkness between the trees was so tempting. Give me an hour’s start, and I’d be gone.
“Please help me. Please …”
I leaped to my feet as a girl, younger than Ichiro, crawled sobbing out of the river, dressed in nothing more than rags and her own soaking hair.
“Help me …” she begged, reaching out a thin, pale hand. “Please, oh, please …”
I left the fire and came closer, but not close enough for that hand to touch me.
She was shivering. Her eyes were huge in her thin face. She struggled feebly to pull herself up the bank, the stones beneath her slick with water and wet moss.
“How did you get into the river?” I asked. I’d heard no splash.
“My mother,” she whispered. “She said … she said another girl was nothing but a burden. She said better for one to drown than all to starve. Please. Please, I’m so cold. I’m so tired.”
The black water lapped hungrily at her knees.
“Get up, then,” I told her. “Come to the fire.”
“I can’t.” She held her hand out again. “Have pity. Help me.”
I backed up a step. “Get up and walk. I’ll help you then.”
Her lips pulled back over pointed teeth, and she snarled. Then she lunged at me.
What had once been a shivering girl was scaly skin, black claws, a mouth that gaped wider than a cave. But I let my hand fall from the hilt of my sword, and stood my ground.
The teeth that were bared to devour me, the claws that were spread to rend the flesh from my bones, swirled into mist and were gone before they touched me.
A ghost. I’d suspected it, and known it when she would not crawl out of the water. She hadn’t dared to let me see that she had no feet.
I raised my voice, but not loud enough to wake Ichiro and Saiko.
“Come out,” I said. “I know you’ve been following us.”
TWELVE
She came out from the darkness, picking her way over roots and between stones. No ghost, this one. She held up the skirt of her kimono, and her feet in their socks and straw sandals were clearly to be seen.
That kimono was as clean and fresh as snow, patterned with faint gray doves that seemed to take flight at her every movement. Not even the red-gold light of the fire, as she knelt gracefully beside it, could turn the silk anything but white.
“You were watching,” I said, and jerked my chin at the river. “Did you set that ghost on me?”
“No.”
“But you knew she was there.”
“Certainly. She’s always somewhere in this river. A sad death, and no one to care for her spirit afterward. She’s hungry, the poor little thing. She wants—”
“Wants what?”
Her smile was the only thing about her that was not beautiful. Too wide. Too many teeth. “What was taken from her in life. A family.”
The child’s ghost could not have pulled me into the river. But if I’d fallen on the stones trying either to help her or run from her, if I’d hit my head as I slipped under, then perhaps she would’ve had a sister ghost to keep her company in the cold, black water.
And the pearl? Would it have fallen from my pocket as I drowned? Been carried away in the current and drifted down to the riverbed, to be picked up by—
Who? Ichiro? Saiko? A ghost or a demon? A strange woman in an elegant white kimono, all alone in a wilderness?
“You were in the castle garden,” I said, studying her. “You told us the way.”
She dipped her head, a graceful nod.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
I tightened my hand into a
“You don’t need to worry.” Her smile was smaller now, and without the sight of all those teeth, it looked more normal. “It can’t be taken by force. It must be given. You know that?”
“So you think if you help us, I’ll give it to you?”
“You may. It’s dangerous, after all. It will draw—all sorts of things after you.”
“Things like you?”
“Oh, much worse than me.” She laughed as she stood, and the long sleeves and skirts of her kimono danced, the doves fluttering. “Sleep safely tonight. You’ll need the rest. Nothing will disturb you. I’ll see to that, as long as you are on this side of the mountain. Once you are over the pass, I will not be able to do as much for you.”
And she was—
My eyes could not make sense of what was happening to her. All I knew was that, a moment after she had spoken, a white fox sat where she had stood. Its red tongue lolled from its mouth, and its pointed teeth showed in a wide, alarming grin.
It loped toward the forest and melted into the darkness.
Fox spirits are tricksters; everyone knows that. But this one kept her promise. Nothing else threatened us in the night, though Saiko and Ichiro kept their watches dutifully. When morning came we ate what was left in the pack Masako had filled for us, and went on.
I wouldn’t let Ichiro refill our water flasks at the river, but I didn’t tell him why.
I led the sister and brother along its bank. The river grew narrower and swifter as we went, burrowing deep into the earth until it became a white snake endlessly racing at the bottom of a gorge. The hour of the hare had just passed when I saw what I had been expecting—a bridge.
It was made of nothing more than cords firmly anchored to trees. Two were at shoulder height and one, between them, at ground level. It spanned the gorge, and its existence was a closely held secret. Every year Madame would send two or three of her girls to cut down the existing bridge and build a new one in a different place. Everyone else in the province had to cross the river at the ford, where it met the road, guarded by Kashihara soldiers who charged Kashihara tolls. But shadow warriors could flit across the river as easily as birds—or tengu—with the help of three sturdy silk cords.