Soul of the Sword (Shadow of the Fox #2) - Julie Kagawa Page 0,26

once more.

Reika snorted. “I would advise against it,” she said, “but only because I’m fairly sure it’s already been tried.”

“I guess you’re right.” Okame sighed. “A guy like that is probably pretty paranoid. Too bad. Hey, Taiyo-san.” He glanced at Daisuke, walking calmly beside him. “I’m curious. So, Yumeko saw her old master, I saw my brother, and Reika was harassed by her mother’s ghost. Who did you see, out there in the mist? With all your victories as Oni no Mikoto, I bet the list is pretty long. Was it a rival of the court? The spirit of a warrior Oni no Mikoto defeated on the bridge?”

“No.” Daisuke’s eyes grew haunted. “I saw the ghost of a maidservant who once served Lady Satomi.”

I drew in a sharp breath. When we had followed Lady Satomi to an abandoned castle in search of Master Jiro, there had been a hitodama—a human soul—that had guided Reika and me through the castle to reach the priest. And then, after the battle with Yaburama and the amanjaku, I remembered finding Daisuke, wounded, bleeding and nearly unconscious from his fight with Satomi’s demons. The ghost of a girl was beside him, pale and luminescent in the shadows. She had smiled at the noble, and though it had seemed that he couldn’t sense her, she had softly brushed his cheek, before reverting to a ball of light drifting away over the wall. I’d wondered who she was, and if she had found the peace to move on.

“A servant girl?” Okame sounded shocked. “You’re telling me that, in all your duels and years at court, the death you regret the most is a servant girl?”

“The court is court,” Daisuke said. “The game is vicious, but the players all understand the rules. Reputations are destroyed. Favor is earned, honor and livelihoods are lost. That is how it is, how it has always been. The same is true for the duels I fought as Oni no Mikoto. The challenge, and the rules surrounding it, was always clear. There was always the option to decline with no loss of face or honor. The warriors who died on those bridges fought Oni no Mikoto with bravery and conviction—to regret killing them would bring dishonor to their memories.

“But that little servant girl…” Daisuke hesitated, gazing away into the mist. “Mura Suki, the daughter of the city’s celebrated flute maker. She was not a noble or a warrior, but she knew beauty when she saw it. We met only once at the Imperial palace, and I have not seen her since.” He sighed, looking pained. “She was Lady Satomi’s maid. I was fairly certain that the woman killed her, but now there can be no doubt. Suki appeared to me here, angry that I did not save her from Satomi-san. That she died because I did nothing.”

“That wasn’t Suki, Daisuke-san,” I said. I was about to add that the real Suki was a ghost hanging around Satomi’s castle, but stopped myself. I didn’t know if Suki’s soul still lingered in the mortal world or had moved on. And it seemed cruel to tell Daisuke that Suki was a ghost, after all, especially since, in all his dealings with the court and duels as Oni no Mikoto, the death of a servant girl was the one that had hit him the hardest.

“I know, Yumeko-san,” Daisuke replied, smiling at me. “When we were at Satomi’s castle and I was nearly delirious from my wounds…I saw something. For just a moment…I thought I heard her voice.” His brow furrowed. “I hope I’m wrong. I hope that Suki’s soul has moved on, that it does not linger in the mortal realm. But if that truly was her that night, it was not the same spirit as the sobbing, hateful thing who called to me a few minutes ago. It looked like her, and it was as if the spirit spoke directly to my guilt, but that was not the girl I met. Suki might have been a servant, but she had the soul of a poet. She would not linger here for long.”

“Huh,” Okame said. He had a strange look on his face, like he wanted to be scornful but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. “You’re a terrible noble, Taiyo-san,” he said at last. “Talking to servants? Treating them like they’re real people? How have you survived the court all these years without committing seppuku?”

Daisuke smiled. “I am a lover of art and beauty, Okame-san,”