her benefit. It was Lord Sora’s reaction that mattered most.
“In Prince Yamato’s day it was a cunning tactic,” Daigoro went on, “but today . . . today I am not so sure. We are no longer plagued by bandit kings; these are nobler times. Is it still in the way of bushido to resort to such blatant deceit?”
Sora’s face grew redder with every word; he seemed angry enough to burst into flame. “What do you mean to imply, boy?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I was just thinking of what I should have done from the beginning, as soon as I took Streaming Dawn. Since shinobi are certain to come for it, perhaps I should have disguised it. If I had a second tanto forged in its image, I could have passed off the counterfeit and kept the genuine Inazuma for myself. But no, what am I thinking? I am no weaponsmith, and I have no forge.”
Nene’s gaze rolled slowly toward Lord Sora’s smithy. Sora himself had eyes only for Daigoro. “Speak carefully, Bear Cub. I can arrange for you to become intimately familiar with the forge.”
“I mean no offense, Sora-sama. I was only thinking of what I might do in your stead. My Akiko has a jewelry box to rival your wife’s calligraphy case. Suppose I had placed Streaming Dawn in it, and offered it to Lady Nene just as you did. If I had been wiser . . . well, if I’d fashioned a false Inazuma, I could keep the true blade for myself. It’s what Prince Yamato would have done, but is it what bushido would have me do?”
Lord Sora studiously avoided looking at the rosewood case. That by itself told Daigoro everything he needed to know. Sora glared at him, red-faced, breathing loudly through his nose. Daigoro wondered whether the two of them would come to blows then and there. He released all the tension in his arms; looser muscles made for a faster draw.
It was Lady Nene who intervened. She calmed both of them just by clearing her throat. “Daigoro-san, shame on you: you’ve offended your host. Lord Sora, I apologize on the young man’s behalf. Sometimes we must forgive the youth; they have not the wisdom of our years.”
“They certainly don’t,” Sora grumbled.
“And sometimes men must forgive women for their pettiness,” Nene said. “I am ashamed to have accepted your generous offer of this beautiful calligraphy case. It belongs with your wife. Please, forgive me for being so selfish. Take it back, I beg you. I should be happy to carry Streaming Dawn in a rice sack.”
Daigoro could hardly contain his astonishment. He’d never had close dealings with the aristocracy; this was the first time he’d seen their weapons deployed so artfully. She could have ordered Lord Sora to prove the knife he’d given her was the genuine article—by stabbing himself, for instance. Daigoro was certain he’d bleed. Instead, she caught him in the act and she still found a way for him to retain his honor. He bowed, thanked her on behalf of his wife, and returned with the manservant to the house. “To find some other vessel worthy of Streaming Dawn,” he insisted.
That left Daigoro and Katsushima alone with Lady Nene—or rather, as close to alone as anyone was allowed to be with a woman of her station. Her honor guard and ladies-in-waiting were ever-present walls behind her. She approached Daigoro in her small, shuffling steps. He hadn’t seen her in the daylight before; she was quite beautiful in her white face paint. She smelled of flowers, and her cloth-of-gold kimono glinted in the sun. It spoke volumes of her trust in him that she was willing to stand within sword’s reach.
“That was cleverly done, Daigoro-san. You have impressed me, and not for the first time. I believe my envoy promised you a gift? From Mongolia?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“You shall have it. Is there anything else you require of me to complete our pact?”
Daigoro glanced around, a little nervous about what he was about to ask. But he had given it considerable thought. “Well, yes. Your . . . your kimono is most beautiful, my lady. I wonder if you might be willing to give me one.”
Nene tittered like a child. “Oh, my dear boy. Even now you have the presence of mind to think of gifts for your wife?”
“Not quite, Nene-dono.”
* * *
In the end Nene would not give him a garment of her own, but she did ask her handmaid to give him