doors, villagers sank down to pass a watchful night.
Chapter 3
The roadside inn was some distance away from the main village. It was almost a world unto itself, well isolated from the village houses. Business was apparently good. The dining room housed several guests, and Sura caught delicious scents flooding from the kitchens. A monk’s bell rang softly – the sound echoing through the woods as Sura allowed the old villager to lead her to the inn. She scratched her chin as she looked at the dark shadows between the huts.
“So – can you tell me about the evening before the head-man climbed the tower? Had he been agitated during the day? Anything odd been happening?”
The elde rly villager scowled in thought, drawing in his immense caterpillar brows.
“Katsura seemed most agitated, priestess. One of the travellers brought him news. He insisted on mounting the tower himself, and scanned the skyline. When we asked him what he sought, he said ‘nothing’. He said he was on a fool’s errand.”
“ So who are these travellers?”
The old villager heaved a sigh, trying to remember.
“We are only a small road, Kitsune san. These are all folk headed to Ayamejo. Merchants – a wandering monk… A lady and some swordsmen heading to the great tournament. They arrived some hours ago.”
“Well – that’s a start. We’ll see what news arrived.”
The inn was wide and comfortable, with a garden that had been planted with plum trees, flowers and a pond. A monk sat upon the porch – a man who wore a cylindrical straw hat so deep that he viewed the world through a small window woven in the straw. The man sat meditating before an intricately engraved bronze bell. At intervals measured by some internal mantra, he rang the bell, the notes ringing soft and low out across the night-time shadows.
Sura looked at the monk’s absolutely ludicrous hat, and made a most expressive face.
“Oh what the hell is that?”
The ancient villager gave a wise nod. “Merely a wandering monk, Kitsune san. A komosu – the Monks of Emptiness. He has been there all day and all night.”
Walking along with Chiri at his side, Kuno elegantly cleared his throat.
“It’s a Buddhist sect. The full basket hat walls them off from distractions. It allows them to contemplate the mysteries without undue impact from the ephemeral world.”
Sura looked to Chiri and blinked, somewhat agog.
“Humans are lunatics…”
Tonbo could only shrug.
The inn’s main room had screen doors that were wide open to the fine night air. Some samurai and merchants sat inside, drinking, gaming and eating food served by a pair of industrious young maids. In another far part of the garden, a rowdy group of young samurai drank with one another. They were all similarly dressed, with immaculate hair and robes marked with prints of a swirling cloud. One man – more gorgeously attired than the others – held court at the centre of the group. Each and every one of them wore expensively decorated swords. Amongst the sounds of dining, drinking and revelry, the monk’s bell rang forth – quietly chastising anyone who cared to hear.
The elderly villager led the way up into the main room of the inn. He nodded greetings to the fussy little owner of the inn, then led his guests over to a solitary table by the porch.
A young woman sat eating and drinking alone. She had a fine face pulled into a serious, discontented expression. She wore masculine clothing: a samurai’s travelling clothes decorated with the mon of the Sano clan. She bore a long sword and short sword of high quality. A long, efficient naginata leaned against the wall beside her, easily in reach. The polearm’s long, curved blade was covered by a beautifully painted sheath. The elderly villager bowed to her, introducing Kuno, Tonbo and Sura.
“ Samurai san! Honoured lady, please excuse this intrusion. These are Imperial deputies who wish to ask you for information.” He bowed to
Chapter 3
The roadside inn was some distance away from the main village. It was almost a world unto itself, well isolated from the village houses. Business was apparently good. The dining room housed several guests, and Sura caught delicious scents flooding from the kitchens. A monk’s bell rang softly – the sound echoing through the woods as Sura allowed the old villager to lead her to the inn. She scratched her chin as she looked at the dark shadows between the huts.
“So – can you tell me about the evening before the head-man climbed the tower? Had he been agitated during the day? Anything odd been happening?”
The elde rly villager scowled in thought, drawing in his immense caterpillar brows.
“Katsura seemed most agitated, priestess. One of the travellers brought him news. He insisted on mounting the tower himself, and scanned the skyline. When we asked him what he sought, he said ‘nothing’. He said he was on a fool’s errand.”
“ So who are these travellers?”
The old villager heaved a sigh, trying to remember.
“We are only a small road, Kitsune san. These are all folk headed to Ayamejo. Merchants – a wandering monk… A lady and some swordsmen heading to the great tournament. They arrived some hours ago.”
“Well – that’s a start. We’ll see what news arrived.”
The inn was wide and comfortable, with a garden that had been planted with plum trees, flowers and a pond. A monk sat upon the porch – a man who wore a cylindrical straw hat so deep that he viewed the world through a small window woven in the straw. The man sat meditating before an intricately engraved bronze bell. At intervals measured by some internal mantra, he rang the bell, the notes ringing soft and low out across the night-time shadows.
Sura looked at the monk’s absolutely ludicrous hat, and made a most expressive face.
“Oh what the hell is that?”
The ancient villager gave a wise nod. “Merely a wandering monk, Kitsune san. A komosu – the Monks of Emptiness. He has been there all day and all night.”
Walking along with Chiri at his side, Kuno elegantly cleared his throat.
“It’s a Buddhist sect. The full basket hat walls them off from distractions. It allows them to contemplate the mysteries without undue impact from the ephemeral world.”
Sura looked to Chiri and blinked, somewhat agog.
“Humans are lunatics…”
Tonbo could only shrug.
The inn’s main room had screen doors that were wide open to the fine night air. Some samurai and merchants sat inside, drinking, gaming and eating food served by a pair of industrious young maids. In another far part of the garden, a rowdy group of young samurai drank with one another. They were all similarly dressed, with immaculate hair and robes marked with prints of a swirling cloud. One man – more gorgeously attired than the others – held court at the centre of the group. Each and every one of them wore expensively decorated swords. Amongst the sounds of dining, drinking and revelry, the monk’s bell rang forth – quietly chastising anyone who cared to hear.
The elderly villager led the way up into the main room of the inn. He nodded greetings to the fussy little owner of the inn, then led his guests over to a solitary table by the porch.
A young woman sat eating and drinking alone. She had a fine face pulled into a serious, discontented expression. She wore masculine clothing: a samurai’s travelling clothes decorated with the mon of the Sano clan. She bore a long sword and short sword of high quality. A long, efficient naginata leaned against the wall beside her, easily in reach. The polearm’s long, curved blade was covered by a beautifully painted sheath. The elderly villager bowed to her, introducing Kuno, Tonbo and Sura.
“ Samurai san! Honoured lady, please excuse this intrusion. These are Imperial deputies who wish to ask you for information.” He bowed to
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