Read Online Across the Nightingale Floor by Lian Hearn - Free Book Online
Authors: Lian Hearn
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bodies of my stepfather and Isao. Was I waiting for Iida and the wolf
man to catch up with me? Or for my chance of revenge?
From time to time I still tried to
pray in the manner of the Hidden, and that night I prayed to be shown the path
I should take. I could not sleep. The air was heavy and still, the moon, a week
past full, hidden behind thick banks of cloud. The insects of the night were
noisy and restless. I could hear the suck of the gecko's feet as it crossed the
ceiling hunting them. Ichiro and Lord Shigeru were both sound asleep, Ichiro
snoring. I did not want to leave the house I'd come to love so much, but I
seemed to be bringing nothing but trouble to it. Perhaps it would be better for
everyone if I just vanished in the night.
Without any real plan to go—what
would I do? How would I live?—I began to wonder if I could get out of the house
without setting the dogs barking and arousing the guards. That was when I
started consciously listening for the dogs. Usually I heard them bark on and
off throughout the night, but I'd learned to distinguish their barks and to
ignore them mostly. I set my ears for them but heard nothing. Then I started
listening for the guards: the sound of a foot on stone, the clink of steel, a whispered
conversation. Nothing. Sounds that should have been there were missing from the
night's familiar web.
Now I was wide-awake, straining my
ears to hear above the water from the garden. The stream and river were low:
There had been no rain since the turn of the moon.
There came the slightest of sounds,
hardly more than a tremor, between the window and the ground.
For a moment I thought it was the
earth shaking, as it so often did in the Middle Country. Another tiny tremble
followed, then another.
Someone was climbing up the side of
the house.
My first instinct was to yell out,
but cunning took over. To shout would raise the household, but it would also
alert the intruder. I rose from the mattress and crept silently to Lord
Shigeru's side. My feet knew the floor, knew every creak the old house would
make. I knelt beside him and, as though I had never lost the power of speech,
whispered in his ear, “Lord Otori, someone is outside.”
He woke instantly, stared at me for
a moment, then reached for the sword and knife that lay beside him. I gestured
to the window. The faint tremor came again, just the slightest shifting of
weight against the side of the house.
Lord Shigeru passed the knife to me
and stepped to the wall. He smiled at me and pointed, and I moved to the other
side of the window. We waited for the assassin to climb in.
Step by step he came up the wall,
stealthy and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world, confident that
there was nothing to betray him. We waited for him with the same patience,
almost as if we were boys playing a game in a barn.
Except the end was no game. He
paused on the sill to take out the garrote he planned to use on us, and then
stepped inside. Lord Shigeru took him in a stranglehold. Slippery as an eel,
the intruder wriggled backwards. I leaped at him, but before I could say knife,
let alone use it, the three of us fell into the garden like a flurry of
fighting cats.
The man fell first, across the
stream, striking his head on a boulder. Lord Shigeru landed on his feet. My
fall was broken by one of the shrubs. Winded, I dropped the knife. I scrabbled
to pick it up, but it was not needed. The intruder groaned, tried to rise, but
slipped back into the water. His body dammed the stream; it deepened around
him, then with a sudden babble flowed over him. Lord Shigeru pulled him from
the water, striking him in the face and shouting at him, “Who? Who paid you?
Where are you from?”
The man merely groaned again, his
breath coming in loud, rasping snores.
“Get a light,” Lord Shigeru said to
me. I thought the household would be awake by now, but the skirmish had
happened so quickly and silently that they all slept on. Dripping water and
leaves,
man to catch up with me? Or for my chance of revenge?
From time to time I still tried to
pray in the manner of the Hidden, and that night I prayed to be shown the path
I should take. I could not sleep. The air was heavy and still, the moon, a week
past full, hidden behind thick banks of cloud. The insects of the night were
noisy and restless. I could hear the suck of the gecko's feet as it crossed the
ceiling hunting them. Ichiro and Lord Shigeru were both sound asleep, Ichiro
snoring. I did not want to leave the house I'd come to love so much, but I
seemed to be bringing nothing but trouble to it. Perhaps it would be better for
everyone if I just vanished in the night.
Without any real plan to go—what
would I do? How would I live?—I began to wonder if I could get out of the house
without setting the dogs barking and arousing the guards. That was when I
started consciously listening for the dogs. Usually I heard them bark on and
off throughout the night, but I'd learned to distinguish their barks and to
ignore them mostly. I set my ears for them but heard nothing. Then I started
listening for the guards: the sound of a foot on stone, the clink of steel, a whispered
conversation. Nothing. Sounds that should have been there were missing from the
night's familiar web.
Now I was wide-awake, straining my
ears to hear above the water from the garden. The stream and river were low:
There had been no rain since the turn of the moon.
There came the slightest of sounds,
hardly more than a tremor, between the window and the ground.
For a moment I thought it was the
earth shaking, as it so often did in the Middle Country. Another tiny tremble
followed, then another.
Someone was climbing up the side of
the house.
My first instinct was to yell out,
but cunning took over. To shout would raise the household, but it would also
alert the intruder. I rose from the mattress and crept silently to Lord
Shigeru's side. My feet knew the floor, knew every creak the old house would
make. I knelt beside him and, as though I had never lost the power of speech,
whispered in his ear, “Lord Otori, someone is outside.”
He woke instantly, stared at me for
a moment, then reached for the sword and knife that lay beside him. I gestured
to the window. The faint tremor came again, just the slightest shifting of
weight against the side of the house.
Lord Shigeru passed the knife to me
and stepped to the wall. He smiled at me and pointed, and I moved to the other
side of the window. We waited for the assassin to climb in.
Step by step he came up the wall,
stealthy and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world, confident that
there was nothing to betray him. We waited for him with the same patience,
almost as if we were boys playing a game in a barn.
Except the end was no game. He
paused on the sill to take out the garrote he planned to use on us, and then
stepped inside. Lord Shigeru took him in a stranglehold. Slippery as an eel,
the intruder wriggled backwards. I leaped at him, but before I could say knife,
let alone use it, the three of us fell into the garden like a flurry of
fighting cats.
The man fell first, across the
stream, striking his head on a boulder. Lord Shigeru landed on his feet. My
fall was broken by one of the shrubs. Winded, I dropped the knife. I scrabbled
to pick it up, but it was not needed. The intruder groaned, tried to rise, but
slipped back into the water. His body dammed the stream; it deepened around
him, then with a sudden babble flowed over him. Lord Shigeru pulled him from
the water, striking him in the face and shouting at him, “Who? Who paid you?
Where are you from?”
The man merely groaned again, his
breath coming in loud, rasping snores.
“Get a light,” Lord Shigeru said to
me. I thought the household would be awake by now, but the skirmish had
happened so quickly and silently that they all slept on. Dripping water and
leaves,
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