The fifth year of Emperor Bidatsu's reign, Kisaragi. Kii, Muro. Deep in the mountains of Kumano.
The mountain was silent. The birds did not sing. The beasts did not move. Only the wind stirred the tops of the cedars, and even that sound faded before it could reach the ground.
There was no road through this forest. It was not that there was no road—it had been erased. Footprints were covered with fallen leaves, branches were left unbroken, and moss was never trampled. The forest itself swallowed every trace of human passage.
Ame-taka Village, Muro. Deep in this land called Spider Field, about a hundred of them lived.
A depression surrounded on all four sides by sheer cliffs. Even from above, the tops of cedars and camphor trees formed a lid, hiding the bottom from view. Limestone caves yawned open in the cliff faces, and excavated dwellings lined the surrounding rock like a honeycomb. Waterfalls spilled from cracks in the cliffs, and the water collecting at the bottom wound through a narrow valley and flowed south. The constant roar of water kept human voices from carrying outside.
Descendants of Nagasunehiko. A warrior clan that had once welcomed Nigihayahi, fought alongside him, and then been betrayed. Survivors of a people thought to have been wiped out.
They hated the Mononobe. They hated the Imibe. They had no reason to approach the Capital of the Heavenly Descendants—Asuka.
Night. Deep in the forest, a campfire burned.
Two Tengu were tending it. Dust from the road clung to their woven hawk-feather garb. They were messengers from the Imibe. They had traveled through Kaku-kari Village and Yama Village, then entered these mountains in search of the last clan remaining: the Ame-taka.
But the Tengu did not know where Ame-taka Village was. No one did.
That was why they built a fire. They warmed sake, raised their voices, sang, and laughed. They deliberately made themselves conspicuous in the forest. It was the only way to make contact with the Ame-taka. A custom handed down from ancient times.
“Hey! People of Ame-taka! We’re messengers from the Imibe. We’ve brought an official summons!”
One of the Tengu called into the darkness. There was no reply.
They drank sake. They sang. They fed branches to the fire, raising the flames high. Smoke rose past the cedar tops and climbed into the night sky.
How much time passed?
“What do you want?”
A voice spoke. From nowhere in particular. Was it in the trees, beneath the earth, or right behind them? They could not tell its direction.
The two Tengu straightened their backs.
“We bear an official summons from Lord Imibe: Bring the princesses of the Six Kowakuni Clans to Tachibana Palace of Asuka.”
Silence.
“Show me the summons.”
“We’ll hand it over. Where should we—”
“Leave it there. Beside the fire.”
The Tengu placed the wooden tube on the ground beside the fire.
Nothing happened. For a while, nothing happened.
One of the Tengu felt something strange at the back of his neck. A tiny insect was crawling behind his ear. When he tried to brush it away, another appeared. On his shoulder, too. And on his arm.
They were silkworm moths. Small white moths were fluttering around the two men before they knew it. Ten, twenty—too many to count. They looked drawn to the firelight, but that was not it. The moths crossed in front of the Tengu's eyes, blocking their vision, and tried to settle on their eyelids.
While the two men swatted at the moths, the wooden tube vanished.
There was not even a mark on the ground beside the fire to show that it had ever been there.
The Tengu looked at each other. They knew the summons had been stolen. But they could not move. The moths were still swirling around them.
“We have no choice but to wait for their reply,”
one of them said.
At that moment, a voice came from the darkness behind them.
“Don’t move.”
Something cold touched the back of his neck. A steel claw. Five hooked talons stopped just short of biting into the skin at his throat.
The Tengu froze.
The other Tengu was in the same position. He could feel the same coldness against his back.
A low voice rang out from the darkness.
“We have taken the summons. We will deliver our reply. You will leave these mountains. Never come back.”
The Tengu could do nothing but nod.
The claws withdrew. When they turned around, no one was there. Only the flames of the campfire continued to burn as though nothing had happened.
The path down the cliff could be found only by those who knew it. They hooked their fingers into hollows in moss-covered rocks, grasped vines, and descended a nearly vertical wall while being showered by spray from the waterfall.
Tenkū went down first, and Amaori followed.
Tenkū. Nineteen. Amaori's elder brother, her teacher in battle, and the one who taught her how to survive in this forest.
“Did you see it?” Tenkū asked as they descended.
“I saw it.”
“Where did you approach from?”
“Downwind. I concealed myself in the smoke from the campfire.”
“When did you release the moths?”
“Before you called out. When the Tengu began drinking.”
Tenkū gave a small laugh.
“Excellent.”
When they reached the bottom of the cliff, the roar of the waterfall grew louder. Moonlight scattered through the spray like the light of torches. Several cave entrances lined the rock, and lights flickered deep within them. The lights of a hundred people's homes.
Tenkū removed the spider claws and hung them from his waist.
“I’m taking this to the elders. You’re coming, too.”
Deep inside the limestone cave. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, and water trickled thinly down the walls. Three torches had been wedged into cracks in the rock.
Five elders sat in a circle. White-haired old men. Deep wrinkles were etched into their faces, and each had the same scar on his cheek. A scar carved into them at birth to mark them as descendants of Nagasunehiko.
Tenkū held out the wooden tube.
The eldest elder took out the wooden tablet and held it up to the torchlight.
“Bring the princesses of the Six Kowakuni Clans to Tachibana Palace of Asuka.”
He read the words aloud. They echoed through the cave, the same words overlapping again and again until they faded.
Silence descended.
“The Imibe?”
one of them said.
“The Imibe.”
“They want us to go to Asuka.”
“That’s right.”
The elders looked at one another.
“We cannot send anyone.”
“But if we refuse, our connection to the Imibe will be severed. They are among the few who know we are here.”
“We have no need of such a connection. We have lived for a hundred years without anyone’s help.”
“A hundred years is a hundred years. There is no guarantee the next hundred will be the same.”
The argument went in circles. If they went, they would come under the Mononobe's watchful eye. If they stayed, the thin thread connecting them to the Imibe would snap. Either choice was dangerous.
Amaori sat in a corner of the cave, hugging her knees as she listened.
Fourteen. Mud streaked her cheeks. Her black hair was cut short. Her thin body was wrapped in a light garment woven from spider silk.
The elders' voices grew distant, mingling with the sound of water.
Asuka. Tachibana Palace. The Capital of the Heavenly Descendants.
The capital of those who had killed Nagasunehiko.
Something cold stirred deep in her chest. It was not hatred. Hatred was older and deeper, soaked into Amaori's very marrow. It was no longer an emotion, but a part of her body.
“I’ll go.”
The elders turned toward her.
Amaori had risen to her feet.
“I’ll pretend to answer the summons for the Six Princesses and enter Asuka.”
The eldest elder looked at Amaori.
“Amaori. We know what you intend to do in Asuka.”
Amaori did not lower her eyes.
“This may be the only chance I’ll ever have to get close to the Mononobe's seat of power.”
The cave fell silent. Only the sound of the waterfall echoed.
The elders looked at one another. After a long silence, the eldest nodded.
“Do as you please. But don’t die.”
Amaori bowed her head. Deeply, once.
When Amaori emerged from the limestone cave, Tenkū was waiting. He leaned against the cliff wall with his arms crossed.
“Were you listening?”
“I was.”
Tenkū looked at his sister.
“Are you going alone?”
“If two people from Ame-taka enter Asuka, we’ll draw attention. If I go alone, I’ll be nothing more than a little girl.”
Tenkū fell silent. The spray from the waterfall streamed white between them.
“…I understand.”
With only those words, he returned to his own dwelling.
Amaori stood beneath the cliff for a while.
She took something wrapped in cloth from inside her robe. She unfolded the cloth. An old arrowhead, attached to a broken arrow. Ama-no-Hahaya. The arrow Nagasunehiko had shot at the end, but which had failed to reach its mark. A single arrow passed down through the generations.
The sound of the waterfall made the arrowhead tremble.
She would take this arrow to Asuka. Pretending to answer the summons for the Six Princesses.
Amaori wrapped the arrow in the cloth again and put it back inside her robe.
She looked up at the top of the cliff. Only one star was visible in the sky above the cliff's edge.
Asuka. The Capital of the Heavenly Descendants lay in the direction of that star.
Amaori returned to her dwelling and lay down on her bed of spider silk. She closed her eyes.
Sleep came at once. It was a warrior's sleep. Deep, swift, dreamless sleep.