The Friday Society by Adrienne Kress Read Free Book Online Page A

peppered with gray. His robes—yes, he was actually wearing robes—were a deep midnight blue with an intricate abstract pattern embroidered onto them in a dark silver. They were cinched at the waist with a thick black belt. He stood for a moment, looking around the square. Michiko couldn’t look away. His eyes were so bright and, even from some distance, appeared clear and sharp. Penetrating.
    A small skinny man approached him with a concern, and Michiko watched the magnificent-looking man kindly but firmly send him away. She then noticed that everyone else had stopped doing whatever they were doing to watch, too. Callum was the only person still moving through the crowd, totally confused about why he was no longer the center of attention.
    A neat path was cleared immediately for the dark man as he made his way through the square, directly past Michiko, and out onto the high street.
    “Michiko!” She turned and rushed over to join Callum at the edge of the market by the weaponry stand run by the old Japanese samurai. Callum yelled something at her about having his grand arrival so rudely interrupted, and she bowed her head.
    “Forgiveness, Callum-kun,” she said. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and realized the old samurai sitting in the corner had looked up as she spoke. It startled her, as typically he didn’t pay any attention to her. Or really to anyone. Usually he just sat, smoking his pipe, staring into the space before him, as he let his assistants make all the deals.
    Callum made a strange, exacerbated puffing sound and then turned to the old samurai’s young assistant to bargain over a new case of rapiers. They began haggling over prices, and Michiko, as stealthily as she could, made her way to the far end of the table to examine the other swords. She noticed one in particular and gaped. Quickly closing her mouth tightly, she glanced over at Callum, but he wasn’t paying any attention to her.
    She returned her focus to the sword in front of her. It was so beautiful, and she’d never seen it at the stall before. A katana . The samurai’s sword. The one she had never been presented with at her school, even though all the boys had one. Unable to hold back, she reached out and touched the hilt.
    “You called him Callum-kun,” said the old samurai.
    Michiko’s head snapped up. She was shocked to see the old samurai looking right at her, almost as if he had been looking at her the whole time. What struck her even more was the feeling that overwhelmed her at hearing her own language spoken. It was such relief to be able to understand, such a comfort.
    Too bad the words were spoken to shame her.
    “Yes.” She could feel the redness rise in her cheeks.
    “That is extremely disrespectful.”
    Michiko nodded. “I know.” She lowered her eyes and kept her gaze on the sword. She was feeling completely ashamed of herself at the moment.
    “Unless he is your husband.”
    “He is not.”
    “And even then . . .”
    Michiko nodded. There weren’t that many people in this country whose opinions mattered to her. The old samurai was the rare exception. After all, no matter what he looked like now, withered and small, he’d once been a great warrior. He probably still was. He was deserving of respect, and she really wanted his respect in return. Though she knew she wasn’t likely to get it.
    She understood the importance of respect; it had been ingrained into her at a very young age, and it was driven home even more to her with her old geisha mistress and, of course, her sensei. She didn’t want the old samurai before her to think she didn’t understand how important respect was. She did. Which is why she’d decided to call Callum “kun” in the first place.
    When they’d first met in Japan, she had called him “Callum-san” with all due politeness. But as she’d gotten to know him here in England, her opinion had changed drastically. And the only way she could handle her inability to