Staring after them as they returned to their quarters tapping their canes along the ground, Saya racked her brains.
How can I get in?
A SHORT WHILE LATER the old women reappeared. This time all three were wrapped in long white shroudlike garments. The cloth covered their heads, and a fold at the front concealed even their faces. Only their canes protruded from the front of their garments. They looked like white pillars of cloth feeling their way along. Darkness made no difference to them. From the confidence in their steps, Saya suspected that they had walked this path for countless decades. When she saw that the procession was heading for the wooden gate out of the garden, she crept under the bottom of the hedge and waited beside it. One woman and then another passed directly in front of her. The last, weighed down by the water jar, was slightly slower than the others. Saya reach out her hand and deftly hooked the hem of her garment with her finger. The woman, who held the water jar in one hand and her cane in the other, was unable to restrain a cry of dismay when she felt her wrap slipping.
“What’s wrong?” The two women in front halted.
“Nothing, nothing. Don’t trouble yourselves. I just caught my hem on a branch sticking out of the hedge. It seems that the gardener hasn’t been doing his job,” the last priestess said in some embarrassment. “You go on ahead and have them open the gate of the shrine. I’ll soon catch up.”
The two continued on while the remaining handmaiden set down her water jar and stooped to gather her wrap. There was no time to hesitate. Biting her lip, Saya raised her arm high and brought her fist down upon the nape of the woman’s withered neck. It was a trick that she had learned in the days when she had played with the village boys, guaranteed to make an opponent’s head swim without inflicting any real injury. As she had never had a chance to use it in a real fight, she had no idea that it would be so effective. The old woman sank to the ground without a murmur. It was almost shamefully easy.
I’m sorry. Saya apologized silently. She swiftly dragged the woman through the wooden gate and, laying her in the shadows as comfortably as possible, covered her with her cloak. She then wrapped herself in the handmaiden’s shroud, picked up the cane and the water jar, and hurried to the shrine enclosure.
The first two women were already waiting there. The gate was open. Saya approached them in a cold sweat, taking great pains to mimic the gait of an old woman, but it seemed that her efforts were unnecessary. As soon as they saw her cane the guards at the gate bowed respectfully and let her inside without question. To her relief, they did not attempt to touch her. She crossed the threshold and stepped within the shrine enclosure.
Inside, the grounds were paved with round white pebbles, uniform in size. They glowed faintly in the starlight, making the area appear even larger than it actually was. Amazed at her own boldness, Saya stole surreptitious glances at the sacred precincts from the shadow of her wrap, her eyes full of wonder. The shrine stood at the far end, its side facing her, with several small storehouses nearby. Behind it rose a dark grove of cedars, their sharply pointed tips thrusting up into the night sky. A cool breeze carried their tangy fragrance along with the wild perfume of honeysuckle. Saya thought that the shrine must be located near the foot of the mountains. The sanctity of this spot was intense, even within the Palace of Light. It was as if the Milky Way had descended into the depths of the night to create the white emptiness of the garden upon which the shrine stood. The sound of the handmaidens’ regular footsteps on the smooth pebbles dissolved into the rising stillness. Saya shuddered, filled with uneasiness, a feeling that she would never be able to return again to where she had come from. The water jar was heavy in her arms, and the water slopped up and down, setting her nerves on edge.
The procession finally reached the shrine. The building appeared small to one used to the large buildings of Mahoroba. But it was tall for its size and the floor was raised high off the ground like a granary. A grown man could easily have walked between the round columns under the floor. The space beneath the building was as spotless as the garden, and the central column was encircled by a rope of braided straw and surrounded by sakaki branches set in the ground. Double doors were set into one end of the shrine and a single, treacherouslooking ladder led up to them. The ladder was just a narrow log not even the width of her foot, and shallow notches provided the only footholds. And of course there was no handrail. The women stood side by side at the bottom of the ladder and prayed soundlessly. Casting a sideways glance in their direction, Saya mimicked them. After standing this way for some time, one of them said, “You must not be afraid. As Her Highness is not here, it is you who must take the water inside.”
“Do not fail in your duty,” the other added.
At last Saya realized that she alone was expected to perform the acrobatic feat of walking up the log. She stepped forward, wondering how on earth a blind old woman carrying a swaying water jar could possibly do it. One slip of her foot and she would fall. She swallowed hard as she looked up its length, then, summoning her courage, she pulled up the hem of her shroud and placed her foot upon the log. All she had to do was make it to the top without falling. It was a question of doing it before she lost her nerve.
She did not fall. She lurched and swayed, but somehow she made it. The doors were made of unvarnished wood studded with rivets, like the palace doors. She pushed against them with the force of her ascent and they opened without a sound, as if beckoning her within.
The bright light of torches struck her eyes. Torches in iron brackets, burning with an intensity too great for mere illumination, were ranged in two rows stretching to the far end of the shrine. Raising her eyes, she saw high ceiling beams blackened with soot, while the floor beneath her feet was so smoothly polished that she could see her reflection. She frowned, struck by a strange uneasiness. She felt that somehow this had all happened before.
But that can’t be.
She closed the door and began walking cautiously. The farther she went, the more her uncertainty about herself and her surroundings increased. She felt as though she were walking on a cloud. Her shadow, summoned by the light of the torches, fled before and after her, whispering, and she was afraid that if she stopped to listen, she would lose her mind.
Get a grip on yourself. What did you come here for? Wasn’t it to rescue Torihiko? she remonstrated with herself. But at that very moment she saw before her a brilliantly shining altar . . . a forest of sakaki branches placed as offerings . . . snow-white paper streamers . . . and a white cedar altar gleaming as bright as day. Saya caught her breath and stood riveted to the spot, memory flooding back.
It’s the altar from my dream. This is where I meet the shrine maiden.
A quiet terror crept up through the soles of her feet, and she began to shake as if with fever. It was a fear the very quietness of which seemed to push her to the brink of insanity. Her reason, no longer to be governed, fled, and Saya was suddenly a girl of six again. Her rigid body refused to move. And there before her very eyes, like a dream come to life, was her worst nightmare, her greatest fear: a white-robed, black-haired shrine maiden kneeling before the altar with her back to Saya. This time, surely, it was a dream from which she would never wake again . . .
3
FOR AN INSTANT Saya must have lost consciousness. The clay jar slipped from her arms and shattered as it hit the floor, drenching her from the knees down. The cold shock of the water jolted her back to her senses. She was suddenly aware that this was no dream and remembered what she was doing. Hastily stepping out of the puddle, she raised her eyes and met the gaze of the shrine maiden, who had turned around to look at her.
You see, Saya told herself calmly. She has a shadow. She’s human. Now, what were you so afraid of ?
There was certainly nothing threatening about the girl who stared up at her. She looked to be about Saya’s age, and although she was clothed in pure white, and had long, glossy black hair like the maiden in Saya’s dream, her face held nothing but innocent
surprise. Nor did she seem in the least suspicious of this intruder. She was, however, just as beautiful as the dream had suggested. Taller than Saya, she was endowed with a refined elegance, and her slender face was exceptionally comely. Her clear, dark eyes seemed tinged with sadness. A thick hemp rope bound her hands and feet. Incredulously, Saya’s eyes followed the rope to where the girl’s feet were tethered to a pillar. She was a prisoner. The old women had not been talking about Torihiko after all.
The white-robed maiden did not seem to be troubled by her plight. Instead, she stared guilelessly at Saya. Finally she spoke. “These days I find it difficult to distinguish between dream and reality. I feel I’ve met you somewhere before, but where could it have been?”
Saya uttered a cry. “I know that voice. So it was you!” It was one she would never forget—the voice of the carp that had talked to her in the pond that night. “You’re the one who pretended to be a fish and talked to me, aren’t you? Thanks to you, I almost drowned!”
“Oh, yes!” The girl’s face lit up in a smile of recognition. “I met you in the Mirror Pond, the night I dreamed I was a carp. You were swimming there, too.”
Overcome with curiosity, Saya went right up to her, knelt down and peered into her face.
“Who on earth are you?” she demanded.
“I am Chihaya,” the girl replied. “The third-born child of the God of Light. The last of the immortals.”
Saya blinked in surprise. No one knew of any immortal children besides Princess Teruhi and Prince Tsukishiro, although, thinking back, she remembered that Princess Teruhi had mentioned something about another sibling. Still, it was incredible. Deep within the palace grounds lived an immortal whom no one had ever heard about. And this one was bound!
“Why are you tied up like that?”
“You mean these?” Chihaya replied, completely unperturbed. “My sister tied these knots for me. Because I dream. While I dream, my body must be kept here.”
“Dream? You mean the carp dream?”
“Yes, a carp or whatever. I can become anything—a bird, an insect, a furred creature. My sister never lets me outside because I’m a disgrace to my family. So instead I learned to pass the time this way.” There was no resentment or discontent in her voice, only a hint of resigned loneliness.
Now I see, Saya thought as she listened. Her voice sounds like Prince Tsukishiro’s. That’s why I thought I recognized it the first time I heard it.
This also explained her exquisite beauty. Yet she lacked the powerful, commanding presence that characterized her brother and sister. Instead she appeared very young and forlorn.
“But my sister doesn’t like my dreaming, either,” Chihaya continued. “Although I suppose that’s to be expected, because it seems to cause so much trouble. I don’t know what happens when I dream, but when I see how the handmaidens fear me, I assume that I must look like I’ve gone crazy.” She tilted her head and said thoughtfully, “Or perhaps I’m insane to start with. I’m not really sure.”
She spoke with such indifference and lack of self-pity that Saya was drawn to her.
“You look perfectly sane to me,” she said sympathetically. “If you took off those ropes and went outside, you would look even saner.” Chihaya’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “What a funny thing to say. And who are you, who says such things?”
“I’m Saya, one of your brother’s handmaidens,” she replied with a hint of irony directed at herself.
“Saya,” Chihaya repeated, as if testing the sound. “Saya, you remind me of my sister.”
Saya looked at her in astonishment. “What makes you say that?” “You aren’t an old woman,” she answered innocently.
Saya’s expression relaxed. “I see. You don’t know very much, do you?”
“Maybe not. Although when it comes to things experienced outside this body, I know more.”
Saya could not decide whether to confide in her or not. Despite the fact that she was an immortal Child of Light and seemed to lack common sense, Chihaya did not seem to be an enemy. No matter what Saya did, it would make little difference—she would still be in danger. Mustering her courage, she began. “Actually . . . I came here looking for my servant. He was taken away as a sacrifice for the purification ceremony. I’m sure he’s in here somewhere. You don’t happen to know where, do you? He’s my friend, the boy who was swimming with me in the pond. Won’t you tell me where he is?”
“The sacrifice isn’t kept here; it’s kept at the West Gate,” Chihaya replied readily. “There’s a small iron cage called the Hut of Abomination beside the river just in front of the West Gate. I saw it clearly when I flew over the river as a bird this morning. That’s where your servant is.”
“The West Gate!” Saya exclaimed and then quickly lowered her voice. She wanted to protest, to tell her she must be wrong. But she realized that no one had told her Torihiko was in the shrine. She had simply assumed that for a variety of reasons. Thinking about it objectively, it was obvious that a sacrifice would be too defiled to enter a shrine and would be kept where the ceremony was to take place. She cursed her stupidity. But it was too late to gnash her teeth or weep. The West Gate was at the opposite end of the palace from the shrine that she had so painstakingly entered.
So I did all this for nothing. How could I be so stupid!
Dismayed, she buried her head in her hands. Chihaya looked at her curiously. “Why would you want to see your servant this late at night?”
“I belong to the people of Darkness,” Saya replied, reckless in her despair. “So does that boy, Torihiko. I can’t let him be killed. I have to save him, but I’m such an idiot, I’ve come to the wrong place.”
“You mean the people who serve Mitsuha, the Goddess of Darkness?” Chihaya asked without any hesitation. Saya stared at her in amazement. Even in Hashiba, it was taboo to refer to the Goddess by name. She would never have dreamed that the Goddess’s honorific title would be mentioned in such a sacred place as this.
“Well, you’ve just added one more thing to the list of what needs to be cleansed in this palace,” Saya said. This made Chihaya laugh.
“Me? Be purified? My sister would faint from shock.”
Saya snorted. “Princess Teruhi faint? Now, that I’d like to see, if only it were possible.”
She stood up. Time was swiftly passing while she sat here. Even if the effort were wasted, she could not bear to spend the rest of the night doing nothing.
“I’m going to the West Gate to see,” she said. “Although there’s little hope, I must do what I can. One of the people of Darkness called me heartless. Now I know that he was right.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” Chihaya said placidly yet sincerely. “All I have is the knowledge of my dreams. Now if you were a mouse, I could tell you the fastest way to the West Gate.”
Saya smiled. “Thank you. I wish I were a mouse and could speed under the floors and scurry up the walls. Then I could rescue Torihiko without anyone ever knowing.”
Chihaya’s reply surprised her. “Have you ever tried to become one?”
“No.”
“You might be able to if you tried.”
Saya, who had already turned to leave, looked back at her. “I’m not like you. It’s not something I can do just by willing it.”
“Are you sure?” Chihaya asked. Saya was nonplussed. “That night in the pond, you were already half fish. That’s why I was curious and spoke to you. You could even hear my voice, despite the fact that I was a fish. The other handmaidens can’t do that.”
“But,” Saya murmured, blushing as she remembered, “but it’s impossible. I don’t know how.”
“Maybe I can teach you.”
She looked hard at Chihaya’s tranquil face. And as she looked, she began to feel that they were not so different after all. If anything, Chihaya’s idea was no crazier than the one of leaving the shrine and making her way across the entire palace. Inspired, she sat down. “Then teach me. I’ll try anything.”
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SAYA STARED at a young gray mouse that Chihaya had summoned. It seemed bewildered to find itself sitting there on the bright floor for no apparent reason.
“Engrave the image of this mouse in your mind so that you don’t lose the way back to your soul,” Chihaya said. “Then close your eyes and leave. Your body will stay here while you catch the mouse. Returning is much easier than leaving so you don’t have to worry about the rest. I’ll take care of your body while you’re gone. Now, you must be decisive. You can’t leave your body if you haven’t made up your mind to do it.”
Saya closed her eyes and imagined herself standing before a notched log like the one she had climbed to enter the shrine. She felt herself traversing the narrow beam without the aid of a handrail. Someone, however, was kindly supporting her, urging her along—probably Chihaya.
Oh, I know. I know how to do it.
She had to find the place where her soul waited, longing for release, and open the door to set it free. Exhilarated, she leaped into space. And with a little help from Chihaya, she slipped inside the mouse.
At first it was so strange that she thought she wouldn’t be able to stand it. She could not see any of the things that she should be able to see. But that was only natural, because from a mouse’s perspective, Chihaya’s face was far in the distance. On the other hand, her sense of smell was exceptionally keen, informing her that there were two creatures looming like small hills nearby. She had to run about a bit to calm down.
From somewhere far above her, she heard Chihaya exclaim with delight, “So you did it! I thought you would.” This helped her bring herself under control. Recalling that time was running out, she ran through a hole in the wall, slipped under the floor, and sped to the West Gate along the path that Chihaya had carefully described to her.
Several times she ran into other mice along the way, but whenever they saw her they shrank back and made room for her to pass, as if afraid. Despite the borrowed body, she was still Saya, and apparently other mice could tell the difference. Perhaps she looked like one possessed by some evil spirit. But, racing as she was against time, this was fortunate. She ran as fast as her little mouse legs could carry her, stopping only to sniff out the proper direction.
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