Sora drew his wakizashi and traced a shallow, experimental cut across the prisoner’s throat. It cut veins, tendons, arteries, but not so deep as the vocal cords. The prisoner cried louder than ever, but impossibly he still lived.
This raised another chorus of astonished gasps. It drew one from Lady Nene as well. “My, my,” she said. “Your weapon is most extraordinary.”
“Mine? No. If this is the cost of immortality, then I will pass it by.” He looked at the bloodless prisoner and did not suppress a shudder. “Take the dagger if you wish, my lady, but take it far from here.”
With that Sora yanked Streaming Dawn from the doomed man’s flesh. It loosed two hot red torrents, spurting at once from neck and belly. The prisoner died almost instantly.
Sora raised a finger and two serving men dashed forward to kneel in the dust. “Clean this,” he said, handing one of them Streaming Dawn. “And find something to wrap it in—something beautiful, mind you. Her ladyship deserves our finest silk.”
Nene graced him with a smile. “You are too kind, Lord Sora.”
That was sufficient indication for the gathered host that the excitement was over. Servants hurried about their duties and soldiers returned to their posts. Lord Sora made use of the commotion as a rare opportunity to lower his voice. “It is no kindness, my lady. Unless young Daigoro is mistaken, this blade comes with more than a curse. He took it from a shinobi, which means somewhere a shinobi clan knows it is missing. They will come for it. I make this gift to you because Daigoro-san asked it of me, but if you take my advice you will cast this weapon into the sea. You may keep the silk.”
Daigoro studied him with a suspicious eye. In all their dealings together, he’d only known Lord Sora to make matters needlessly difficult. This was going far too smoothly.
Sora noticed he was under scrutiny. “I haven’t forgotten you, Daigoro-san. You’ve made good on your word. Despite your earlier insult, you will find I am a man of honor. Since you delivered the blade, I will support you against that money-grubbing rat in the south.”
Daigoro hated to raise the question he knew he must ask. “If I may, Lord Sora, what do you mean by ‘support’?”
“Hmph! Trust a renegade to drink of a man’s sake and then question its quality! I mean just what I said, boy. Yasuda Kenbei wants me to call in all my debts with you. I pledge not to. What more could you require?”
You might actually take my side, Daigoro thought, instead of walking away from the field of battle. But that was too much to ask. “A thousand pardons, Sora-sama. You are most generous.”
“Hmph.”
The awkward moment was broken by the return of one of the manservants, who came bearing an elegant box of polished Chinese rosewood. The servant kneeled before Lady Nene, raising up the box with both hands and bowing his head as low as it would go. Lord Sora rose to the occasion, overcoming his righteous indignation long enough to show courtesy to his guest. “Streaming Dawn,” he said, opening the box for her. “In my wife’s calligraphy case, I see. There will be hell to pay when she finds it missing, but I will happily give you the case if you will cast that evil knife away. My forges are stoked and ready; you have only to throw it in.”
“Your chivalry is admirable,” Nene said, “but no. I thank you for your gift. Daigoro-san, I thank you as well, for negotiating this exchange. . . .”
Daigoro scarcely heard her. His attention was fixed on Lord Sora, who was far happier than he should have been. A petty man did not easily part with such a lordly prize. There was only one explanation, but Daigoro dared not voice it aloud—not in Sora’s own home, right in front of the most honored guest he’d ever received. He’d already seen how Sora punished those who offended him.
“My lady,” Daigoro said, thinking quickly, “do you know the story of Prince Yamato?”
Nene regarded him with puzzlement. “Of course. Everyone does.”
“I was just thinking of how he defeated the bandit kings. Their armies were so dense that he could not march against them, so instead he went on his own, disguising himself as a woman.” Daigoro felt silly saying it aloud. Nene was quite right to say everyone knew the tale, but he was not retelling it for