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

Dim candlelight shone from inside, behind the little man’s back.
    â€œThere are no ghosts with me,” said Tomoe, hoping to discourage his apparent fears. He let her enter. She left her zori sandals on the ground inside the door, then climbed onto the polished, elevated wooden floor. Tomoe said, “I need to see the woman who hides her face.”
    The innkeeper stepped back from Tomoe, looking as though he regretted opening the door for her. He said, “What fortunes she tells bode ill! You do not want to see that one. There are better fortunetellers in Isso—famous ones.”
    â€œI don’t seek my fortune told,” said Tomoe. “I come to tell her hers.”
    The innkeeper slapped himself on the cheek and looked even more upset. “No trouble in my inn tonight, please!” he pleaded. “It’s always trouble where that one’s concerned. I’d evict her but for my fright.”
    Tomoe moved closer to the fellow. He cowered as she neared. “What kind of trouble does she cause?” the samurai asked.
    â€œShe talks to devils!” he said, whispering as to a confidante. “When you slapped the door, I was afraid it was her pet, a red colored oni who follows her around.”
    There was a strange look in the man’s eyes. It caused Tomoe to say, “You’re too dream-sotted to answer doors. You’re too free with information about your tenants.”
    The little man was insulted, then suspicious. He said, “Perhaps you’re the oni after all, disguised as a samurai.”
    â€œPerhaps I am,” said Tomoe. The innkeeper squeaked like a mouse and hopped away. Tomoe raised her chin and looked up the staircase. She asked, “Which is her room?” He told her at once, then ducked backward into a side room and bolted himself in.
    Tomoe removed an “S” shaped candlestick holder from the top of a doorframe and carried the light with her up the steps. Strangely, the candle barely penetrated the darkness of the stairwell. Tomoe felt momentarily disoriented, but caught her balance before slipping down. At the top of the stairs, she lurched forward as though forcing herself through something invisible but strong. When she tried to slide the occultist’s door aside, she discovered it would move only a finger’s width. The door was tied shut with red yarn. She stuck the sharp, upper part of the “S” candlestick holder into the lintel and peered into the room through the door’s narrow crack.
    Shadows seemed to dance within; but when Tomoe blinked and cleared her vision, there was only the shape of a woman lying on a futon rolled out on the floor. Without the slightest sound, Tomoe drew her shortsword, cut the string, sheathed the weapon, and slid the door aside. She stepped into the room.
    The sense of disorientation which she had experienced on the seemingly tilted street and again while coming up the staircase was far stronger in the room. Everything felt slightly awry, although a quick glance revealed nothing overtly amiss. The trouble was as subtle as a dream’s reality; everything seemed proper although nothing really was.
    The woman lying on the floor jerked awake and sat up abruptly. The dreaminess of the room was instantly dispelled. Tomoe, too, felt suddenly wakened. The fortuneteller, sitting cross-legged on the futon, faced the other direction. She did not turn around, but said, “Have you come to see your future after all, samurai?”
    Tomoe had left the sliding door open and the candle at the top of the doorframe. The candle’s light cast appalling dark shapes up the wall and out the window. Moonlight shone into the room and cast opposing shadows. The fortuneteller, therefore, had two shadows: one from the moon, faint and long; the other from the candle, sharp and hunched down. Although the double-shadow was explicable, Tomoe was unsettled by it. She said,
    â€œExplain yourself to me or