“I say she brings out a great sadness in you as well as a great joy.”

  Pearl-Ear nodded, her eyes still closed. “She vexes me sometimes. She is so noble, so trusting, so gentle.”

  Sharp-Ear waited in silence for a few moments, then said, “How does this vex you?”

  Pearl-Ear opened her eyes. “Because there were omens when she was born. Conflicting omens without definite meaning.”

  Sharp-Ear’s eyes sparkled. “Well, trot them out and give us a look. Omens are tricky things, but then so am I. If we work things out together—”

  “This is no game, brother. Apart from Michiko’s arrival, the year of her birth was a dark one for the Daimyo. The kami incursions began. Michiko’s mother was one of the first to be killed when her caravan was attacked en route to a kitsune-bito healer.” Pearl-Ear turned away. “The birth was very difficult. Lady Yoshino never fully regained her strength.”

  Sharp-Ear’s voice was soothing. “You two were close.”

  “I admired her greatly. And I was with her when her daughter was born. I watched Michiko carefully over the years for any sign of the horror I saw hovering over her that day. And while all the kingdom has seen little else but bloodshed and blasphemy since that day, none of it could be connected to the princess. She is a bright, beautiful, and honorable girl, but she is just a girl. She is no more blessed or cursed than anyone else. Yet I feel she is somehow tied to the Kami War, even if it’s only through the coincidence of their simultaneous beginnings.

  “And while I watch, and wait, and worry, the world continues to decay. The Daimyo sits in his tower and doesn’t age as the spirits of Kamigawa decimate his kingdom. He believes they are jealous of his newfound power, which few have seen and none comprehend. Not even him, I fear.

  “Now the kami are striking beyond his borders. Something has aroused their ire, and Michiko is involved. I know she is the key, but I can never determine to what.”

  Sharp-Ear tilted his head. “Why is it important? Why do you care?”

  “You brought the answer to that question yourself, brother. A cedar spirit attacking those who sing to it. A monstrous fox hurling curses at the village council. This thing, this war, is growing. It has always threatened to engulf us all, and now it is making good on that threat.”

  Sharp-Ear narrowed one eye. “That explains the why, but not the ‘why you?’ The Daimyo employs the finest scholars, shaman, and wizards in the entire world. What can you learn that they cannot? What perspective can you offer that they don’t already have?”

  Pearl-Ear closed her eyes again, breathing deeply several times before responding. “I have held one foot in the Daimyo’s world for over two decades,” she said. “But the other remains firmly at home among our people. You were right to come here, Sharp-Ear. I have been too long away. Perhaps after a visit, I will rediscover the balance of mind and clarity of thought that is preventing me from seeing the truth.”

  Sharp-Ear stood up. “If you say so, Pearl-Ear. But I think there are things you are not telling me. Things that trouble you, which you will not share. I have spent many years deceiving people for my own amusement, sister, so I am not easily deceived.”

  “I have told you nothing but the truth, Sharp-Ear.”

  “I’m sure you have. You are no liar. But you have omitted something, Pearl-Ear, and so I rightly name you ‘omitter.’”

  Pearl-Ear’s face curled in annoyance. “This debate is pointless. I need you to protect Michiko while I’m away. Train her in the basics of yabusame, make her proficient in the saddle and with the bow. I will not be gone more than a week. I cannot go if you do not agree.”

  “I will do as you ask,” Sharp-Ear said. He smiled. “But you have intrigued me, sister, and you would not have done so accidentally. I shall press our young princess for information, I shall tweeze from her details about her life here in the tower. I shall ask her what she thinks of the omens around her birth.”

  “You will do no such thing.” Pearl-Ear’s eyes flashed. “She’s just a girl, an innocent who has never knowingly harmed anyone. She has no malice in her, and yet the Myojin of Cleansing Fire wept on the day she was born. You tell me how to ask a simple, stainless child why the spirit world reacts to her like a sword thrust through a hornet’s nest. You tell me, Sharp-Ear, and then we both shall ask her.”

  Sharp-Ear held Pearl-Ear’s furious gaze for a moment, then bowed his head. “Forgive me, Pearl-Ear. I will do as you ask and train the princess in yabusame.”

  “Thank you.” Pearl-Ear let her eyes drift shut and began chanting softly under her breath. When she reached the end of her mantra, she said, “I must rely on you, brother. Please, for once in your life, be reliable.”

  “Not to worry,” Sharp-Ear said slyly. “You’ll be amazed at how reliable I shall be. Just don’t complain to me when I make a first-class mounted archer out of her and she wants to join the Daimyo’s cavalry.” He offered Pearl-Ear his hand.

  With her eyes still closed, Pearl-Ear reached out to her brother. She squeezed his warm hand, then let it fall.

  Then Sharp-Ear slid silently out of the chamber, leaving Pearl-Ear to chant softly among her candles.

  Just over a day into their journey together, Toshi decided Kobo was not such a bad traveling companion after all. The hulking bald monk hardly ever spoke, carried more than his share of the supplies, and kept up every step of the way. Together they made steady progress across the edge of the mountainous badlands until the road grew soft and loamy and saplings struggled to rise above the hard, beige dirt.

  Toshi had dropped back behind Kobo, who was clearly more familiar with the route. Now, as the youth hesitated, Toshi urged him on with an impatient wave of his hand.

  “I’m out of my element from here on,” he said. “You take the lead.”

  Kobo grunted. He adjusted his pack and strode forward, his big feet leaving deep prints in the soggy grass.

  They continued to march until midday. After they stopped for water and a chaw of jerked meat that Toshi didn’t examine too closely, he said, “How much farther until we hit the tree line?”

  Kobo shaded his eyes with his hand. “Not far.”

  “How long, then?”

  “Before sundown.” The big monk loped off again. Toshi choked back the rest of his canteen and hustled to catch up.

  As they walked, he tested the ogre’s apprentice, slowly closing the gap between them. Earlier he had established that Kobo had limited peripheral vision on his left side, probably a result of the damaged eye socket. His hearing was excellent, however, and that seemed to help compensate. The ochimusha let his foot scrape against a stone as he passed it, and Kobo’s head immediately jerked to the left.

  “It’s just me,” Toshi said.

  “I know,” Kobo replied. He glared at Toshi from the corner of his eye as he hiked, then turned his attention back to the trail.

  Toshi didn’t exactly admire Kobo, but he respected anyone who could withstand Hidetsugu’s abusive training regimen for five years. Now that they were all linked by the hyozan, he wondered if the o-bakemono would ease up on the youth’s physical punishment. He quickly scanned Kobo’s back and shoulders, taking in the network of scars and half-healed lacerations. He smelled the still-fresh hyozan brand in angry red on Kobo’s breast and decided that if anything, Hidetsugu would be an even sterner taskmaster from now on.

  Hours later, they stepped through a curtain of cedar trunks and ivy into the cool, shaded interior of the forest. The sun was setting, but they still had hours of daylight left. Above them, yellow light streamed through the thick cedar branches and danced along the moss and exposed roots along the forest floor.

  “Wait,” Toshi hissed.

  Kobo stopped. “We still have far to go—”

  “Shhhh.” Toshi looked up at the canopy and listened carefully. “I heard something.”

  Kobo shrugged impatiently. “The forest is full of noise. Hidetsugu trained me to filter out sounds that mean nothing. You will have to adjust.”

  “Then I smell something. Hold still a moment and trust your oath-brother.”

  Kobo grumbled and loosened the straps on his pack. The heavy bundle thumped loudly to the forest floor and rolled onto its side.

  “I smell nothing.”

  “That’s because Hidetsugu smeared your nose across your face. Shut up and let the handsome, smart member of our party assess the situation.”

  Toshi stared at the trees ahead. There was only the barest hint of a path through the thickest part of the forest, but what there was led to a small opening in the trees. The massive branches and draped moss cast deep shadows on each side of the opening. Among the ruins in the city, Toshi had seen alleyways that reminded him of the path ahead. There was usually a nezumi-bito ambush waiting inside.

  “Kobo,” Toshi whispered. “Are you carrying any ranged weapons?”

  “Huh?”

  “Ranged weapons. Bows, spears, shuriken. Even a weighted chain. Anything we can use from here to attack people over there.” Toshi pointed at the opening.

  Kobo shook his head.

  “There’s someone watching us up there.” Toshi quickly scanned the ground around his feet for something to throw. “I want to flush them out.”

  “Yes, oath-brother.” Kobo squatted down and dug his fingers into the turf. The smooth, rounded top of a large stone poked up between his hands.

  “Easy,” Toshi hissed. “That rock’s bigger than it—”

  With an explosive grunt, Kobo wrenched the barrel-sized stone halfway out of the ground. With his muscles rippling across his back and veins pulsating on his forehead, the ogre’s apprentice let out a roar that echoed across the forest.

  The rock came free in a cloud of dirt. Kobo staggered back, balanced the stone on one shoulder, and then positioned his hands beneath it. A low, dangerous growl started deep in his chest, and his legs swelled as they dug into the turf.

  “All right then. Grab the big rock. Don’t mind me,” Toshi spat. He drew his jitte in one hand and his long sword in the other, stepping clear of Kobo in case the youth lost control of his burden.

  But the bald monk was in his element. With a surge of brute strength and another tree-splitting roar, he heaved the small boulder across thirty feet of open space. Toshi had one second to marvel at the sight of the crude missile arcing over the grass, and then it smashed down into the shadows and moss on the right side of the path ahead.

  “Look out below!” Toshi yelled. Kobo tilted his head quizzically, his face flushed and his breathing heavy.

  “Ideally,” Toshi explained, “you would have waited for me to say that before you threw the rock.”

  Cedar leaves and bits of broken wood rained down from above, but Toshi could not see the stone. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the long, claw-fingered hand now lying limp on the edge of the path. The owner of the hand was obscured by brush and foliage.

  “Use your good eye,” Toshi said, as he pointed to the hand, “and look there.”

  Kobo squinted, then straightened up, slamming his fist into his open palm. “Akki,” he said.

  “Akki,” Toshi agreed. He raised his voice, calling, “So anything on the right side of the path is now paste. And anything on the left side of the path is paste-to-be. Kobo … fetch the other rock.”

  Kobo looked confused and started to shrug. “No more rocks, oath—”

  Two small figures suddenly sprang out from their cover on the left side of the path. One of the akki goblins turned and faced them, blocking the path as his partner scurried off into the forest. The little monster screamed defiantly, waving its too-long arms and drumming on its own carapace with clawed fingers.

  “Come on,” Toshi shouted as he charged. “I want to catch the other one before he brings back the rest of his clan.”

  Small as he was, the remaining akki managed to block the entire path. He was unarmed, but his claws were dangerous enough and the armored plate on his shoulders protected him from Toshi’s swords. The ochimusha slowed as he closed on the akki, staying clear of the goblin’s long reach.

  “Go back, go away,” the akki screeched. “Killyou, killyou, killyou dead!”

  Toshi leveled his eyes at the little brute. “Kobo,” he said calmly, “kick this little dungball across the forest, will you?”

  A huge bald blur swept past Toshi. The comic look of surprise and fear on the akki’s face was priceless. Then it disappeared behind Kobo’s roaring form.

  The huge, sandaled foot slammed into the akki’s chest, driving it up into the air like a child’s inflatable ball. The little monster screamed as he sailed off, spinning awkwardly until he slammed into the solid center of a cedar trunk.

  Kobo turned. “I cannot run long distances, oath-brother.”

  “Then step aside,” Toshi said as he sprinted past. “And try to keep up.”

  Toshi ran, fending off branches with his jitte and slicing through vines with his long sword. The akki were a lot like the nezumi, he thought. Small and cowardly, but numerous. Goblins were nowhere near as good at throwing off pursuit as the ratfolk were, so Toshi had little problem following the fleeing akki’s trail. Behind him, he heard Kobo lumbering. Hidetsugu should have trained him for distance as well as sprints.

  Maybe it wouldn’t matter. If Toshi could catch the akki, all he had to do was delay him or pin him down until the ogre’s apprentice came along to mop up. Hidetsugu had not been bragging about Kobo’s fighting skills—the big bald lump was formidable.

  He broke through into a clearing just in time to see the akki disappear into the thicker brush on the far side. Toshi sheathed his sword and sprinted across the tranquil glade, barely noticing the bright evening sun overhead. He was catching up. Another few moments and he could tackle the akki and sit on its head.

  Toshi plunged back into the brush, then stifled a yelp as the ground fell away beneath him. He maintained his balance as he hurtled down the incline with branches slapping his face and torso.

  Momentarily blinded, Toshi crossed his wrists in front of his face to protect it and continued to run. He was careful to watch the ground in front of him to avoid any more surprises the terrain might throw at him. He half-staggered into another clearing, and as he regained control of his own momentum, Toshi smelled smoke.

  The ochimusha lowered his hands. All around him, fifty yards in every direction, the trees had been felled. Most of the lumber seemed to be piled onto a great bonfire in the center of the circle. The fire was blazing ferociously, its flames licking higher than the tallest nearby tree.

  Scores of akki goblins knelt around the fire, chanting softly and hurling dirt in the air. Most were unarmed, but some carried crude clubs made of bone or makeshift spears made from broken swords tied to the ends of poles. Lit by the great fire, the dirty little creatures took on a hellish red tinge.

  As one, half of the akki fell silent and turned to glare at Toshi.

  “A party for me?” Toshi said, more loudly than he’d intended. “This is a surprise.”

  Near the fire, three akki stood next to two humans who had torches in their hands. Toshi didn’t recognize the biggest goblin, but the others were familiar. There was the one he had been chasing, who was still panting and wild-eyed. Beside him was Ben-Ben the hermit, fresh from Hidetsugu’s hut. He still wore his ridiculous squid hat proudly on his knotty little head.

  The humans were likewise familiar. Dressed in bandit armor, the two men slowly turned to face Toshi, and cruel smiles formed on their identical faces.

  “You,” the first twin said. “The ochimusha with the mouth.”

  The second twin’s voice rose over the goblin’s chant and the roar of the fire. “Complete the ritual,” he said. Then he looked to his brother. “This can’t be a coincidence. He dies?”

  “He dies.” The first twin turned to a squad of armed akki nearby, who were eagerly stroking their weapons. “Kill him.”

  An akki with a crude spear whooped and let it fly. Toshi barely deflected it with his jitte as he leaped clear. As the rest of the party readied their weapons, Toshi backpedaled and scanned the smoke-filled clearing. The path behind him was all uphill. Everywhere else was full of gristly little toads with hard heads, small brains, and orders to do him harm.

  He considered making a kanji that would turn the ground into damp, clinging quicksand, but it wouldn’t affect the entire clearing and by the time he finished inscribing it, he’d have half a dozen akki spears stuck in him. He needed something else, a spell or a tactic that could affect a small army.

  From his left, one of the other akki screeched and pounced on his back. The little monster’s grubby fingers clawed at Toshi’s face, and as he struggled to throw it off him, Toshi saw the armed party unleash a volley of spears.

  Quickly, Toshi spun in place so that his back was to the fire. He felt a thump and the akki on his back grunted. There was another thump as the second spear bounced off the goblin’s hard shell, then a third. Then Toshi heard a wet, slapping sound and felt the tip of a spear enter his own lower back. The akki riding him gurgled and went limp.

  Toshi shrugged off the dead goblin with the spear sticking clear through it. He touch-inspected the wound in his own back, nodding grimly. It was minor with very little pain, but it was bleeding freely. He faced the fire again, carefully watching the armed akki party as it closed the distance between them.

  All the spear-carrying goblins had already let fly. Those that remained carried cudgels and spiked clubs. He turned his body so that they could not see his wound and then dragged the tip of his jitte through the blood flowing down his back.

  “I’ll just be on my way now, thank you,” he said. He brandished the jitte, blood dripping from its point. “You just stay back, or I’ll do something you’ll regret. I’ll regret it, too, but you’ll regret it more, I promise.”

  “Keep chanting,” said the first twin.

  “You there,” said the second, gesturing to another cluster of akki. “Help see to our guest.”

  Twelve more akki started toward him, and Toshi clenched his jaw. Blood, tears, and other bodily humors on his jitte made the kanji he inscribed all the more potent, but the only magic he had for a group this size was difficult to control. He could strike everyone in the clearing down with a temporary plague if he didn’t mind exposing himself to it, but he wasn’t that desperate yet.