Gloria Oliver (26 page)

Dinner passed in silence, with Toshi getting up twice to refill their cups. Small chills continued to occasionally course down his back as the old man’s dead eyes never left him.

“Might I touch your face, boy?”

“My face?” He tensed, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Yes, I want to see what you look like. It won’t take long.”

Toshi hesitated, not seeing how letting the old man touch his face would let him see. “Well, I—”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Though it would be rude,” he added. “You already know what I look like.”

Feeling guilty over his hesitation, Toshi scooted over to sit before him. He took a deep, steadying breath before reaching out for the old man’s frail-looking hand. He placed it on his cheek.

“Ah, thank you. You’re most courteous. Don’t worry, it will only take a moment.”

A smile had returned to the blind man’s face, but it seemed somehow detached. Toshi felt the well-callused fingers explore every part of his face. The priest’s other hand reached up to touch his hair.

Without thinking, he jerked away before the old man could do so.

“Is something wrong?” The priest sounded concerned.

“Uh, no, there’s nothing wrong. Please, go on.” He forced himself to sit still, even as the man brushed his hands over his hair and ran his fingers through his ponytail. The other hand fell on Toshi’s shoulder. He found himself suddenly pinned by an iron grip.

“You’ve been touched, haven’t you?” The priest’s voice was hard. The smile had left his face.

Toshi couldn’t read his expression. He felt a kernel of fear spring inside him for the first time. “Touched?”

“Yes, touched. Touched by the spirits roaming the land. I had thought I sensed their mark on you. Now, I’m sure.”

“No, sir, you must be mistaken,” he said, his worry increasing. “I’m only a peasant boy. No spirit would ever touch me.”

He tried to break free of the blind man’s grip but found he couldn’t.

“They’ve touched you,” the priest insisted. “You’ve been marked by it. You may have hidden that mark from the sight of most men, but there are other ways to see it.”

Abruptly, he was free of the priest’s grip. Not sure what to think, he backed away.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of it,” the old man said. “To be marked is a gift, for it means they’ve let you live. They could as easily have taken your life as take the time to mark you.”

The old man’s words disturbed him.

“I’m not ashamed of it! It’s just necessary to hide it right now.”

“Oh, I see.”

He wasn’t sure the man saw at all.

The rain was pouring heavily outside, making pattering sounds on the roof of the shrine; but he thought, despite that, it might be time to consider leaving. Staying had been a mistake.

“I’m not saying these things to try and frighten you, boy,” the priest said. “It’s just so rare to meet someone who’s been touched. In all my long life, I’ve only met two others. One of them was myself.” The priest’s hand hovered for a moment before his eyes. “Please stay. I know you’re thinking of going, but it isn’t necessary.” His tone softened. “I promise not to ask any more questions if you’d be kind enough to get me more tea.”

Toshi wasn’t sure if he should believe him. Yet, he had no proof the old man meant him harm. Could it be true, though? Had the spirits touched the priest as he’d been touched? Nodding as he made his decision, he took the blind man’s cup and refilled it.

He skipped his usual boken practice for fear it might generate more questions, despite the priest’s assurances to the contrary. Taking his blankets out of the basket and staying on his side of the shrine, he let the pattering rain on the wooden roof lull him to sleep.

He awoke to a cool but humid morning. His body begged him to go back to sleep. Fighting its desire, he forced himself to sit up, knowing he had to be on his way.

“Good morning.”

He jumped to his feet, startled by the cheerful greeting. His eyes flickered across the room, landing on the old man just as he remembered his presence.

“Good morning, honored sir,” he managed to say out loud.

“There’s some tea by your side, if you care for it. There’s also some fresh rice that should be done by now. Would you be so kind as to check it for me?”

No longer sleepy, he advanced to the fire. A fresh pile of wood was burning in the ashes of the one from the night before. He wondered where the old priest had gotten it. Not daring to ask, he pulled on the rod hanging from the beam in the ceiling that held the pot safely over the fire. With the pot now set safely on the lip of the pit, he took its lid off with the help of a metal hook used for that purpose. He also found a spoon sitting on the edge as well and used it to take a sample of rice.

“It’s ready.”

“Good, good.” The old man sounded pleased. “There are two bowls on the floor near you. Why don’t you serve us?”

Getting the bowls, he served up the rice. He gave one of the bowls to the priest and took his own with him back to his side of the room.

“An odd thing happened late last night,” the old man said.

Toshi glanced up, forgetting his food for the moment.

“We had some visitors.”

“Visitors?” He fidgeted despite himself.

“Yes. An unusual group, really. I’ve never seen the like before. I wanted a better look at them, so I invited them out of the rain, but they wouldn’t come in. Strangely enough, though, they did leave this.”

The old man lifted a wrapped bundle of food. A silver bell hung from one end. “An odd set of friends for such a young man.”

Toshi stared across the room, wondering just how much the man had sensed about his companions with his unusual sight. Had he known them for what they were?

Feeling tense and uncomfortable, he hurried through his breakfast. As soon as he was done, he began packing away his things.

“You’re not planning on leaving already, are you?” the priest asked.

A kernel of fear grew in his stomach as he glanced at the blind man’s smiling face.

“Yes, honorable sir, I must be going. There are some things I need to do.” He bit his tongue as he felt the urge to try and explain further. He grabbed his basket and slipped it onto his shoulders.

“Ah, well, then, thank you for your company, and your help,” the priest said. “You’d probably better take this with you, as well, since they went through so much trouble to get it to you.” He held the wrapped bundle out in Toshi’s direction.

Toshi approached him warily and took the package. He slipped the tinkling bell from it and then laid the package on the man’s lap.

“Please, you should have it. I know I must have taxed what little food you had. There are not many travelers on the road, and I wouldn’t want you to go hungry. I still have plenty, so, please, keep it. And, if you would, please pray for me and my friends.”

Not waiting for a response, he slipped on his sandals and immersed himself in the mugginess outside.

He ran down the muddy, puddle-filled road a long way, desperately needing to put some distance between himself and the old man. As he ran, he paid no heed to the basket as it slapped over and over again against his back.

He had no idea how much the priest knew. He hoped he would tell no one of what he had seen, even as he realized the old man had found out enough to set their enemies after them. He’d been a fool to stay there the night.

The humidity hung on him like a cloak. His feet and legs were thickly covered in mud by the time he was forced to slow down his run to try and catch his breath. He glanced behind him off and on throughout the rest of the day, not entirely sure the blind man wasn’t coming after him.

The rain continued to fall sporadically for the next couple of days. When it wasn’t heavy, he trudged on, trusting his hat to keep the rain from his hair. During the afternoons, he looked for whatever shelter he could find, always ready to bolt if anyone showed up to share it.

By the third day, all he could think about was how glorious life would be if he could only have a bath.

The rain hadn’t yet returned to torment him, and sunshine was actually making its way past the clouds. He had no idea how long it would last.

The road he was on had been sloping out of the hills since the day before. The trees were slowly thinning out around him. By midday, the forest had given way to extensive paddies. Staring off into the distance, he saw what appeared to be a large town at the edge of a lake.

He shouldn’t be here. Toshi knew that; but though he’d fully intended to skirt the town, he’d somehow ended up in the middle of it anyway. Luckily, no one seemed to be paying him any attention. After all, he was just a common peasant boy. Surely, his mission wouldn’t be threatened when he could so easily hide as one of the crowd.

He knew cities and the many things they offered. How could he turn away from the thought of a hot meal, a bath and even a dry, clean place to sleep? It’d been so long. Surely, he could bend the rules just this once.

He became absorbed by the familiar smells of cooking food, sake, vegetables, that permeated the street, and the normal bustle of people going about their daily business. The calling of vendors assaulted his ears from both sides of the road as they tried to entice him and the other passersby into buying silk cloths, wooden implements, candies, woodblock prints and all other manner of goods. It was a radical change from the silence he’d been subjected to for so many days. It was wonderful to see something other than trees, bushes and lonely, muddy roads.

Entering the first eating establishment he spotted, he stood happily in place as his feet were washed at the entrance before he was shown to a table. He ordered more than he knew he could possibly eat, but didn’t care. He enjoyed himself as he ate cold soba and a wide variety of tempura. He ended up surprising himself by eating it all. It was wonderful!

“Has everything been to your satisfaction, young sir?”

“Oh, yes,” Toshi said. “It was marvelous. I couldn’t have asked for better.”

“I’m so very glad you think so.” The thin proprietor gave him the wide smile reserved purely for customers.

He knew what was expected as the proprietor stood beaming down at him giving no signs he would leave. So Toshi reached within his shirt to pull out the small bag of money Asaka had given him. As he did so, he realized he’d never taken the time to check what was inside. He held his breath as he opened the bag and glanced in it.

“I—I’m sorry, sir, but could you make change for this? I can’t find anything smaller.”

He bit his lip as the proprietor’s annoyance at his first few words turned into surprise as the man stared at the coin in his hand.

“Will it be all right?”

The proprietor’s eyes rose to meet his, his expression unreadable. “Oh, ah, yes, yes, that’ll be fine. I can make change for you. Yes, yes, I can.”

He watched the proprietor with some trepidation as the latter took the coin and shuffled off toward the back of the shop. Once he’d disappeared, he turned his attention to the bag in his hands. He swallowed hard at the small fortune he found inside it. He pulled it shut as the proprietor returned.

The man forced him to count the change twice before letting him have it. Nervous at the attention, he put the change in the bag and slipped it inside his shirt.

“Sir, could you give me directions to a reputable bath house?” he asked, still worrying about the incident with the money.

“Ah, yes, of course, young sir. There’s one just down the street, a couple of blocks down. It will be on your right.”

“Thank you.” He quickly gathered his things and left.

The bath was ecstasy. He had scrubbed every inch of his body except his head twice before entering the hot pool. Allowing his cares to drift into the water, he listened to the other bathers as they talked about various subjects pertaining to the town—the coming fall festival, gossip about a newly married couple and more. He sighed in contentment. It was almost like being back home.

After lingering for longer than he knew was proper, he regretfully left the pool, dried and redressed. He looked forward to the prospect of finding a pleasant inn to spend the night.

As he left with some directions from one of the attendants, he was suddenly flanked on either side.

Looking up in surprise, he saw the two men were samurai. A wave of fear coursed through him as he forced himself to bow.

“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” This came from the shorter of the two.

“Sir?” How had they known? He’d thought he’d blended in perfectly here.

“We would like to see your traveling papers.”

He felt his throat fill with panic. “Papers, sir?”

“Yes, your papers,” came the impatient reply. “Come on, let us see them. That is, unless you haven’t got any.”

The sneer he saw growing on the tall man’s face made it pretty obvious he expected him not to.

“I have papers.” Reaching inside his shirt, he desperately dug around for the bamboo tube containing the writ Asaka had given him. He cursed himself for a fool, realizing the proprietor of the eatery must have turned him in to the local guards. Someone like him would never be carrying around the high currency he’d used to pay for his meal. He should have realized the man would tell someone he looked suspicious.

He found the writ and pulled it out, breathing out a quick prayer. He opened the tube and handed its contents to the shorter of the two samurai.

Toshi waited anxiously as the man unrolled the yellowing parchment and read it. The boy’s brow furrowed as he saw a look of surprise and disbelief flicker across the man’s face. The samurai finished reading the paper and then gave him a long, hard look before glancing at his partner.

“Kimura, I think you’re right. Take a look at this.”

With a cold chill moving through him, Toshi watched the previously sneering samurai read the paper.

“It’s perfectly legitimate, sirs,” he told them.

“Oh, we don’t doubt its authenticity, boy. What we have a hard time believing is that this paper belongs to you.” The sneer had returned to the taller samurai’s face. His hand clamped down on Toshi’s shoulder.