Daughter of the Sword by Steve Bein

steward back on his heels. The boy tripped backward and tumbled to the ground, his head striking the sword rack.
    “Do you dare to draw a weapon on me, boy?”
    “No!”
    “Then why move for the swords?” Saito took another menacing step forward and the steward scrambled from the room on all fours. He regained his footing and dashed for the hall. Stumbling, he landed face-first against the wall outside. He turned in terror as his aggressor emerged from the room. Saito wrapped his fingers around Beautiful Singer’s grip; he could already hear her song in the air.
    “Stop! ”
    The command rumbled like thunder. Saito’s gaze shot up the stairs and saw Ashikaga towering there, livid. His scars and his glare were more fearsome than his sword, though that too now hung at his hip. “Explain yourself, Saito!”
    “This boy insulted me,” he said angrily. “He insulted me and my sword. I would reclaim my honor.”
    “Swords do not feel insults,” the lord said, glowering, “and since you are my sword, neither should you.”
    “My lord, his impudence—”
    “Stands. At my pleasure. He is a trusted man, and there are not many so trustworthy as to guard the weapons at my very door. Takagi!”
    Takagi, the steward, was stunned to speechlessness, but he acknowledged his master’s summons with a hasty, trembling bow. “Apologize to this man,” Ashikaga growled, “for any offense you have paid him.”
    It took a moment for Takagi’s tongue to function. “Ap-apologies, sir. A thousand apologies.”
    “There,” the old warlord said. “Does that satisfy your honor?”
    It was not a question. “It will have to,” Saito replied, his voice hollow. In equally hollow words he added, “A thousand apologies to you as well, Ashikaga-san, for the disturbance.”

17
    At last these spies are doing me some good, Hisami told herself. Her new hires were working out better than anticipated. Of course she knew her husband was at Lord Ashikaga’s stronghold; even the most incompetent of her informants could have told her that. What was new came from Seki. One of the informers she had just put on salary hailed from that region, and he was able to tell his mistress where her husband had gone on last week’s midnight ride. What business the lord had in Seki, he couldn’t say, but Hisami realized immediately what his only purpose there could have been. He’d left with his sword and come back without it; he could only have paid a visit to the sword smiths.
    But why go in the dead of night? And why ride there and back at such a furious pace? Hisami was puzzled. Surely Lord Ashikaga would not have taken offense to such a simple errand had Saito only made the request. Strange indeed, she thought. What on earth could have been so urgent in Seki?
    There was only one way to find out. She called a stable hand to prepare her favorite horse. When she told him to pack her things for an overnight stay, the servant shot her a conspiratorial look; it was untoward behavior for a woman to leave the house without her husband, and downright scandalous for her to sleep elsewhere. No matter, she thought. Saito need not learn of it. It was one day’s leisurelyride to Seki, and a hard two days’ ride to Ashikaga’s castle. Even if her husband still had a mind to run his horse into the ground, she should still be able to beat him home.
    She pushed her steed harder than usual nonetheless, in order to reach Seki before sundown. Mountain roads were more dangerous for a lone woman than they were for a man, and while she knew she could handle any brigands foolish enough to cross a samurai’s path, it was pointless to invite trouble. Her course of action was reckless enough as it was.
    The sun was just dipping below the treetops when her horse trotted through Seki’s main gate. She presumed the priests would have retired from their forges by now, so she paid for a room at the inn and had a dinner there of tofu and abalone. The next morning, she set out to