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as a warrior, especially if you plan on taking your father’s place as a daimyo some time.   There are plenty of samurai lords who would be happy to take Tsuitori-jima from a young samurai.”
    “But the land comes from the emperor, doesn’t it?”
    Ikumi smiled.   “Yes and no.   The emperor granted us these lands; as daimyo, your father technically owns these lands.   They can be taken away by force by another samurai lord or by the emperor himself.   We must protect our lands in order to keep them.”
    “But what is the use?” Akira said.   “If the emperor decides to take our land away, there is nothing we can do.”
    “True,” Ikumi said, “for if we fail to give up our land, we will become ronin, and all those samurai will not respect us.”
    Akira shook his head.   “But if we give up our land, no samurai will respect us.   This doesn’t make sense.”
    “No, it doesn’t.”
    Akira stared at Ikumi.   He hadn’t expected her to agree with him, yet she smiled at him enigmatically.   He wasn’t sure if she was joking with him or was serious.   “I don’t understand.”
    She laughed.   “Someday you will, Akira-chan.”

Chapter Nine
     
    It was still dark, but the sky was growing lighter in the east by the time Keiko entered their home.   The servants had not yet awoken for their daily chores, and Keiko suspected Kasumi still slept.   Their home here on Kyotori-jima, Imperial Island, was not as large as their home on Naotaka-shima, but it was large enough and well appointed.   However, a cage was still a cage, and those of the Neko line found living under Nanashi’s rule very difficult indeed.
    When the truce had been arranged, Keiko had agreed to become a consort to one of Nanashi’s samurai.   The samurai, Naotaka, was an honorable man, but Keiko was no more than a second wife.   She had not even given birth to a son, which many samurai found desirable.   She didn’t understand the differentiation.   In fact, the Neko considered girls more desirable.
    After all, we are the ones who hunt, Keiko thought.   We are the ones who control our clan.   The Guardian is female, after all.
    She entered the stairwell where stairs led up to the sleeping quarters.   She had not stepped on the first step when she saw Kasumi peer down the stairway.   Keiko motioned to the young samurai and led her into her private quarters, which looked out over the courtyard garden.
    “Walk with me, Kasumi-chan,” Keiko whispered.
    Kasumi bowed and followed her mother into the garden.
    The oil lamps had already burned out, but there was enough light from the pale sky.   Of course Keiko and Kasumi needed little light to see by.   The darkened indigo heavens were touched with rosy shafts of light.   The crickets were still chirping loudly, and the nightingale was still singing its mournful song.   A small path led through bonsai trees and lovely flowers.
    Keiko took a few steps, but Kasumi grasped her sleeve and tugged on it urgently.   “Did you speak to the Guardian?   Did she believe me?   What happened?”
    “Shh!” Keiko said.   “You must learn patience, my daughter.”
    Kasumi lowered her head.   “I’m sorry, Mother.   It’s just I want to know.”
    “I understand,” Keiko said.   “But there are spies everywhere, even here within our apartments.”
    Kasumi looked around, her brow furrowed in confusion.   “I see no one,” she whispered.
    “Trust me, my little Neko.   Nanashi employs ninja and other unsavory types.”
    “But I thought the ninja were our friends….”
    “Shh!   You must be silent about that, my daughter.   The ninja serve whoever pays the most money.”   She looked upon Kasumi with a critical eye.   The lovely seventeen-year-old had long black hair braided down her back.   Her face was angular, rather than oblong, with high cheekbones and a small nose.   Her hair had not changed to the tawny color of the Neko yet, as Keiko’s had done.   Keiko’s