Read Online The Golden Naginata by Jessica Amanda Salmonson - Free Book Online

the pond’s opposite bank. It was a woman dressed in red and wearing a large hat with veil and bells attached. The woman spoke, and her voice carried across the water in an eerie way:
    â€œYou are mistaken, bonze. If I were an oni, how could I speak to you so easily?”
    The bonze struck the ground with his staff once more. The woman did not quail, reaffirming that she was not a devil disguised. She nodded her head to make the bells of her hat jingle, returning the bonze’s insult. She said,
    â€œYou are a novice after all, unable to tell a sorceress from a devil. But you must be sensitive to recognize my occult aura.” The woman raised her walking staff above her head as she added, “I would like to match my staff to yours. We will see whose understanding of occult matters is better.”
    Shindo looked serious. He said, “The yamahoshi banish evil magic! We do not fight with spells, but with martial skill!”
    The woman laughed, and the laugh was devilish indeed. She set foot on the surface of the pond and did not sink. She began to walk toward Tomoe and the bonze. Her gait was broken and surreal, for one of her legs had once been broken and healed crookedly. Tomoe reached for her sword, but the bonze said, “Leave it to me!” He waded into the pond to meet the sorceress, but the waves from his legs made the woman vanish from the pond. Tomoe gasped. She said,
    â€œHow is it possible!”
    â€œThe sorceress was not really here,” said Shindo, wading back to the flat dock and climbing out of the water. The hem of his robe dripped around his bare feet. “That was her soul wandering from the body. Most people’s souls wander now and then, while dreaming. When the dreamer wakes, there is rarely memory of the events. The sorceress probably won’t recall having visited you and me. But it worries me. When someone of occult learning has so little control over her soul, it usually means trouble for everyone.”
    â€œThen I must do something tonight!” said Tomoe. “Or she might interfere with our vengeance tomorrow.”
    â€œWhat can you do?”
    â€œI saw her earlier today. She’s a fortuneteller in one of the low districts. I’ll find her and wake her up!” Tomoe started toward the garden gates. If Shindo wanted to dissuade her, he disuaded himself from saying so. He said,
    â€œBe careful, Tomoe.”
    The nearly deserted street appeared somehow askew, as though hinged from the stars at a slight angle. A few candles were still lit inside paper lanterns hanging outside the doors of late-night establishments. A fat woman came out of a sake house, a dirty towel tucked in her obi. She looked up and down the street, her eyes narrow and expectant. Then she took down the lantern, collapsed it, and blew out the flame. Tomoe stepped out of the night and said, “The fortuneteller who wears red. Where does she live?”
    The fat woman glared at Tomoe with a blank expression: no fear, no surprise, no concern. Smoke trailed up from the extinguished candle in her collapsed lantern. Slowly, as though dreaming, the woman raised a large hand and pointed with pudgy fingers. Tomoe said, “Thank you,” and strode on down the street.
    She stopped outside the door of an inn which the fat woman had indicated. Its light was already taken inside; the door was bolted from within. Tomoe slapped the door with the flat of her hand. After a while, a sleepy voice called, “It’s all sold out!” which meant his inn was closed.
    Tomoe said, “Think well of me,” a formal phrase, “and slide your door aside.”
    She heard grumbling, but the door was unbolted. The innkeeper was a small man who hunched down even smaller. He looked out from his establishment cautiously, but he wasn’t measuring Tomoe; he was looking elsewhere on the street, as though afraid a horde of monsters might take advantage and come running in behind her.