Daigoro didn’t often hear such brusque tones from a member of the priesthood. Then he remembered: the world did not see him as samurai anymore. He was an undersized, overproud boy armed not with daisho but with two grossly mismatched swords. His cloth was finely spun but in dire need of washing, which called into question any right he might have to dispense haughty looks.
“I come seeking rumors,” Daigoro said, adopting the soft manner of a peasant. “Perhaps you’ve overheard them, or know of someone who has. There was once a battle in these woods, or so I’m told, one samurai against a pack of thieves.”
“And one of the thieves was struck through the heart,” said the acolyte.
“Ah! So you’ve heard the story.”
“No, but I’ve heard of the two riders asking around about it. Word travels quickly here, even among those who oughtn’t gossip.” The acolyte gave him a sheepish grin.
Daigoro returned it with a little bow and a kind smile of his own. “Can you tell me where I might turn to find my answers?”
“My uncle may know. He is the head priest at Daimatsu Shrine, and has been for some time. He would have been here when your story took place. It’s not half a ri from here; I’ll lead you if you like. Only . . . well, you’ll have to wait for me to finish scrubbing my floors.”
Daigoro was in no mood to dawdle. “I wouldn’t think to trouble you. If you’d be so kind as to point me in the right direction. . . .”
“But of course.”
The acolyte ushered Daigoro outside, where Katsushima minded the horses. He pointed them in the right direction, then vanished back inside. “A very helpful fellow,” Daigoro said. Then they were off.
“Helpful?” Katsushima asked a little while later. “The fool doesn’t know his left from his right.” In fact he and Daigoro had to double back more than once; the acolyte was hopeless when it came to giving directions. In the end they finally stumbled across Daimatsu, an imposing two-story shrine whose sweeping roofs were twice as wide as the sanctuary itself. Its stout timbers had grayed with age and its roof tiles were heavy with lichen.
Walking along the veranda was a senior priest who bore a strong resemblance to the acolyte. They shared the same lean body, the same high cheekbones and strong chin. They might have passed for twins, if only twins could be born fifteen years apart. The priest’s back was bent, his steps shuffling. He strained his neck forward when he saw Daigoro and Katsushima ride up to his shrine, squinting to make the most of the failing light.
“Good evening,” he said in a reedy voice. He wore long white robes, bright purple hakama, and a ceremonial black hat that made Daigoro think of a shark’s fin. His sleeves were so long that they almost touched the floor. “If you’ve come for the wedding, I’m afraid you’ve just missed it.”
“Wedding?” Daigoro said.
“They’ve all gone into the city.” The priest gestured vaguely toward the south. “If you hurry, you may yet catch them.”
Katsushima frowned and turned in his saddle, seeming to study the empty space where the priest had pointed. Daigoro’s attention remained with the priest. “As it happens, I believe you’re the one we’ve come to see. Are you the high priest of Daimatsu?”
“I am.”
“Your nephew sent us. He says you’ve heard tell of a thief who survived after taking a knife through the heart.”
The priest’s eyebrows popped halfway up his forehead. “Well, now. I know the tale, yes, but we don’t talk about it here.”
“I’m not looking to stir up any old ghosts; I only want to sort out a few of the details. I promise it won’t take long.”
The priest weighed it over for a moment, then welcomed them inside. Even before they entered, he apologized for the rather empty feeling of the temple. The groom was one of Daimatsu’s priests, he explained, and very popular with the rest of the staff. As such, they’d all gone to the wedding reception, leaving the high priest in sole custody of the shrine. “Come, sit,” he said, ushering them into a little room for private worship. “I’ll come back with some tea.”
It was impossible to sit down while wearing Glorious Victory Unsought, so Daigoro unlimbered the great sword and laid it along the back wall of the little room. He couldn’t help but notice that