The Sword That Cut the Burning Grass by Dorothy Hoobler Read Free Book Online Page B

out of the guesthouse and left the grounds of the governor’s residence. Yabuta had not thought it worthwhile to put a guard on him. If Seikei chose to flee rather than kill himself, that was only one more indication of his unworthiness to serve the shogun.
    Seikei knew where he must go first. In the city where he spent his boyhood, there were shops where people in need could obtain loans if they left something valuable behind. It was possible to pay back the loan, plus a fee, within a certain period of time and regain whatever had been left.
    There must be such places in Kyoto, Seikei knew, and he found one not far from the governor’s residence. The owner, an elderly man whose face looked like a piece of ancient porcelain with a network of fine cracks in it, didn’t even seem surprised when Seikei offered his swords.
    “Going into business?” asked the old man as he examined the blades.
    Seikei did not answer. His stomach was churning at the thought of leaving the swords here. When Seikei put aside his old wooden sword and took up these, made by a craftsman from the finest steel, he had truly become a samurai. If he failed to accomplish what he had in mind, then he would never be able to redeem the swords. That would not only bring greater shame on Seikei’s head, but make it impossible for him to die honorably by committing seppuku.
    The old man counted out twenty ryo onto the counter and looked up. Seikei realized that was far less than the swords were worth. But what could he do about it? He recalled that his father the tea merchant had always complained that Seikei had a poor head for business. “Anyone can cheat you!” Father had wailed. “You will lose everything I’ve saved in my entire life.”
    So Seikei forced himself to shake his head no. The old man acted insulted. Seikei had seen his father do that when a customer refused to pay the asking price for tea.
    Seikei reached for the swords as if to take them away.
    The old man put another ten ryo on the counter. Seikei waited, still not saying anything.
    The old man sighed. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “If you leave your kosode too, I can give you another five ryo. As long as you’re giving up your swords, you won’t need that jacket. You won’t be in the shogun’s service anymore.”
    Seikei realized he was right. “I’ll need something else to wear,” he muttered. He looked around the shop. “How about that?” he said, pointing to a happu, a plain blue jacket of the kind shopkeepers’ delivery boys used.
    “You looking for a job?” the old man asked.
    “I have one already,” Seikei replied.
    He left the shop feeling slightly dizzy. He kept reaching to his waist, feeling the loss of weight caused by his missing swords. But there was no time for regrets. He knew that before he could accomplish anything else, he had to find out what the Kusanagi scroll contained.
    In a street near the imperial palace, Seikei bought a small basket of pears from a farmer who had brought a cartload into the city. Seikei knew that even though the emperor was missing, there were many other people who lived and worked at the palace—members of the imperial family, officials, clerks, servants. They all had to be fed, and someone carrying food into the grounds would not arouse suspicion.
    By the smell, he found the entrance that led to the kitchen. As he expected, it was large and chaotically busy, with rows of chefs cleaning fish, steam rising from pots of rice in fireplaces, and servants carrying trays out as soon as they were filled. No one gave Seikei a second glance as he put down his pears and picked up one of the trays.
    He assumed that the library would be in that part of the palace close to the hall of the two chief ministers. Neither of them would wish to walk far to obtain a scroll. Luckily, he found his way to the corridor he remembered from the day before. He only hoped that Yabuta had kept the two ministers in custody so that Seikei wouldn’t