Heaven's Net Is Wide, Lian Hearn [reading the story of the txt] 📗

by the shoulders, peered into the terrified face, and saw the image of Takeshi. He gripped him as if he would never let him go. The boy twisted and struggled, then went still, and Shigeru saw his lips move as if he were praying.

He thinks he is going to die. He thinks I will be the one to kill him. But I have found him! I will save him!

He was laughing with joy and relief. The blood seemed to resound between them. Then he readied himself to fight for his life, for both their lives, as three Tohan warriors rounded the curve and halted in surprise in front of them.

None of the three was in armor; nor did they carry swords. They were not expecting to fight but to slaughter. Their leader approached Shigeru, his hand on the hilt of the knife he wore in his belt.

“Excuse me, sir,” the man said. “You have apprehended the criminal we were chasing. Thank you.”

Shigeru did not reply immediately. He wanted the three of them to come closer so he could deal with them all at once. He was assessing their build, their weapons. He could see the knife; the other two had poles.

“What has this criminal done?” he said, turning the boy a little so he could push him aside out of harm’s way in an instant, all the while studying the man in front of him. He was fairly sure he had never seen him before.

“Excuse me, that is no concern of yours. It is purely the business of Iida Sadamu and the Tohan clan.”

“Unh, is that so?” Shigeru replied with deliberate insolence. “And who might you be to tell me what is and what is not my concern?” He wanted to enrage them, and as the leader snarled, “Just hand him over,” he pushed the boy behind him and drew his sword all in one movement.

The closer of the two men carrying poles took a swing at him. Shigeru ducked under the blow, stood and let Jato strike at the man’s neck, severing the head; he turned immediately and met the leader’s attack, his sword connecting with the outstretched arm and slicing through it as though through bean curd. The man fell to his knees, his left hand grasping at the stump and the spurting blood. He did not make a sound.

The third man dropped his pole and ran back down the path, shouting for help. In the distance someone called back.

“Come on,” Shigeru said to the boy who was standing trembling with shock. Shigeru’s voice seemed to rouse him; he fell to his knees.

“Get up!”

The boy protested that he must find his mother, but Shigeru pulled him to his feet. He did not think that anyone would remain alive in the village, and he was not going to risk the boy’s life in finding out. He hurried him up the slope. The rain was falling heavily and it was almost dark. He doubted they would be pursued once night had fallen.

As they ran, the boy told him in brief shocked words about the soldiers and the attack, and then said, “But that wasn’t only why they were after me. I caused Lord Iida to fall from his horse.”

It made Shigeru burst out laughing. It seemed like a sign: a sign of Iida’s downfall at this boy’s hands.

“You saved my life,” the boy said, “It belongs to you from this day on.”

Shigeru laughed again with mixed feelings of delight and pride. He had courage and fine instincts; he was a true Otori.

“What’s your name, boy?” he asked.

“Tomasu,” the boy replied.

Tomasu!

“That’s a common name among the Hidden,” Shigeru said. “Better get rid of it.”

An idea suddenly came to him, and he said, “You can be called Takeo.”

He had already decided he would adopt this boy and make him his son. Otori Takeo: his son. And together they would destroy Iida Sadamu.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank:

Asialink, for the fellowship that enabled me to go to Japan for twelve weeks in 1999/2000;

The Australia Council and the Department of Trade and Foreign Affairs, for supporting the Asialink program;

The Australian Embassy in Tokyo;

Akiyoshidai International Arts Village, Yamaguchi Prefecture, for sponsoring me for that time;

Shuho-cho International Cultural Exchange House program, for inviting me for a further three months in 2002;

ArtsSA, the South Australian Department for the Arts, for a mid-career fellowship that gave me time to write;

Urinko Gekidan in Nagoya, for inviting me to work with them in 2003;

My husband and children, who have supported and encouraged me in so many ways;

In Japan, Kimura Miyo, Mogi Masaru, Mogi Akiko, Tokuriki Masako, Tokuriki Miki, Santo Yuko, Mark Brachmann, Maxine McArthur, Kori Manami, Yamaguchi Hiroi, Hosokawa Fumimasa, Imahori Goro, Imahori Yoko, and all the other people who have helped me with research and travel;

Christopher E. West and Forest W. Seal at www.samurai-archives.com;

All the publishers and agents who are now part of the Otori clan around the world, especially Jenny Darling, Donica Bettanin, Sarah Lutyens, and Joe Regal;

My editors, Bernadette Foley (Hachette Livre) and Harriet Wilson (Pan Macmillan), and Christine Baker from Gallimard;

Sugiyama Kazuko, calligrapher, who passed away early in 2006.

Lian Hearn

Lian Hearn is the pseudonym of a writer, currently living in Australia, who has a lifelong interest in Japan, and has lived there and studies Japanese. Visit the author’s website at www.lianhearn.com.

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