A pair of boxes hung on either side of her, four in all, and the largest ones were big enough for Daigoro to sit in. They were slung across a quilted moss-green blanket that totally concealed Daigoro’s unique saddle. His mare was still upset by Katsushima’s pulling and prodding, so Daigoro ran his hand down her neck in long, slow strokes.
“Now watch this,” Katsushima said. He unbuckled a couple of straps and folded back the two smaller boxes, which slipped right into the two larger ones. The pack blanket rolled back just as easily, uncovering the saddle. Just like that, Daigoro’s mare was ready to ride. Switching over from the pack harness to riding tack should have been a hassle; this took only a few moments.
“Suppose you filled all four crates with straw,” Katsushima said. “Overstuff them. Do you think you could hide Glorious Victory in one of the big ones?”
Daigoro eyed it carefully. “Barely. It would be close.”
“We’ll test it before we leave. You’ll hide your armor in the other crate. Between towns we can ride the highways, and as soon as we get within sight of other people, we can buy . . . well, whatever there is for sale. Rushes. Thatching. Anything cheap. I’ll ride on, you’ll walk your horse through town, and we’ll meet on the other side.”
Daigoro imagined it and smiled. “In the eyes of the world, we’re not two outlaws riding together. I’m a tired farmer—”
“And I’m a dashing, dangerous-looking ronin with a little time to spare if there happen to be any whores about.”
Daigoro couldn’t help but laugh. Katsushima was certainly in fine fettle. The old rogue enjoyed a good caper. It was too bad they wouldn’t be riding together any longer. Daigoro did not look forward to telling his friend they had to part ways.
“What did you make of Jinichi’s tale last night?” asked Katsushima.
“Most of it matched what my father told me.”
“But not the nonsense about Atsuta Shrine. You don’t think the Okuma Tetsuro would go running there to escape evil kami, do you?”
“No. I think he wanted to show honor to a worthy opponent. A priest of Atsuta praying over her ashes would be respect enough, I think.”
“Wait. Her?”
“Yes. He said the assassin was an old woman. I remember laughing at him at the time. Ichiro told him little old grannies couldn’t fight. Father said this one taught him otherwise.”
Katsushima mulled it over for a moment. “The stories say demons disguise themselves as old crones. Maybe it’s true. In any case, I can’t imagine your father losing to a wizened grandmother any more than I can imagine him losing to a demon, so it’s all the same to me.”
Daigoro frowned. “I know what he told me.”
“All right. A demoness, then. She defeated your father, yet she was the one who died. Was that the way of it?”
“That’s what he said.” Seeing Katsushima wrinkle his brow, Daigoro added, “I was only a boy. I didn’t ask many questions.”
“Mm. Did he bury this ‘evil knife’ with her?”
“No,” Daigoro said. “He tried to, but he was set upon by thieves.”
“And?”
“He stabbed the first one in the heart with Streaming Dawn. The others went running after that.”
Katsushima nodded stoically. “That usually works.”
“He said their friend fled with them.”
“The one with the dagger in his heart.”
“Yes.”
Katsushima paused to consider that for a moment. “All right, that’s something I’d like to see. Are we off to Atsuta Shrine?”
“I am. You’re not.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I need you to take these back home for me.”
He hefted the two heavy sacks off the ground again and lugged them a little closer to Katsushima. Their weight threatened to collapse his bad knee. Katsushima eyed them over, and when curiosity got the better of him, he crouched over one of them and untied the top. What he saw inside made him gasp, a totally uncharacteristic expression from him. “That’s . . . that’s a lot of money.”
“Keep your voice down.” Daigoro looked over his shoulder, then scolded himself for it. Everyone in the compound was loyal to Jinichi. Even so, he could only bring himself to speak in a whisper. “It’s barely a quarter of Kenbei’s demand. Not nearly enough, but it’s a start. You’re the only one I can trust to get it where it needs to go.”
“Trust Jinichi. It’s his, neh?”
“It’s mine now. He loaned it to me.”
“Then he should protect his investment. Ask him to send riders with it, all the way back