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in
the struggles between the clans. Her life was worth nothing to the lords who
virtually owned her, except in what she added to their bargaining power. Her
father was the lord of the strategically important domain of Shirakawa; her
mother was closely related to the Maruyama. Since her father had no sons, he
would adopt as his heir whoever Kaede was married to. The Noguchi, by
possessing her, also possessed his loyalty, his alliance, and his inheritance.
    She no longer even considered the
great things—fear, homesickness, loneliness—but the sense that the Noguchi did
not even value her as a hostage headed her list of things she hated, as she
hated the way the girls teased her for being left-handed and clumsy, the stench
of the guards' room by the gate, the steep stairs that were so hard to climb
when you were carrying things . . . And she was always carrying things: bowls
of cold water, kettles of hot water, food for the always ravenous men to cram
into their mouths, things they had forgotten or were too lazy to fetch for
themselves. She hated the castle itself, the massive stones of the foundations,
the dark oppressiveness of the upper rooms, where the twisted roof beams seemed
to echo her feelings, wanted to break free of the distortion they were trapped
in and fly back to the forest they came from.
    And the men. How she hated them.
The older she grew, the more they harassed her. The maids her age competed for
their attentions. They flattered and cosseted the men, putting on childish
voices, pretending to be delicate, even simpleminded, to gain the protection of
one soldier or another. Kaede did not blame them for it—she had come to believe
that all women should use every weapon they had to protect themselves in the
battle that life seemed to be—but she would not stoop to that. She could not.
Her only value, her only escape from the castle, lay in marriage to someone of
her own class. If she threw that chance away, she was as good as dead.
    She knew she should not have to
endure it. She should go to someone and complain. Of course it was unthinkable
to approach Lord Noguchi, but maybe she could ask to speak to the lady. On
second thought, even to be allowed access to her seemed unlikely. The truth
was, there was no one to turn to. She would have to protect herself. But the
men were so strong. She was tall for a girl—too tall, the other girls said
maliciously—and not weak—the hard work saw to that—but once or twice a man had
grabbed her in play and held her just with one hand, and she had not been able
to escape. The memory made her shiver with fear.
    And every month it became harder to
avoid their attentions. Late in the eighth month of her fifteenth year a
typhoon in the West brought days of heavy rain. Kaede hated the rain, the way
it made everything smell of mold and dampness, and she hated the way her skimpy
robes clung to her when they were wet, showing the curve of her back and
thighs, making the men call after her even more.
    “Hey, Kaede, little sister!” a
guard shouted to her as she ran through the rain from the kitchen, past the
second turreted gate. “Don't go so fast! I've got an errand for you! Tell
Captain Arai to come down, will you? His lordship wants him to check out a new
horse.”
    The rain was pouring like a river
from the crenellations, from the tiles, from the gutters, from the dolphins
that topped every roof as a protection against fire. The whole castle spouted
water. Within seconds she was soaked, her sandals saturated, making her slip
and stumble on the cobbled steps. But she obeyed without too much bitterness;
for, of everyone in the castle, Arai was the only person she did not hate. He always
spoke nicely to her, he didn't tease or harass her, and she knew his lands lay
alongside her father's and he spoke with the same slight accent of the West.
    “Hey, Kaede!” The guard leered as
she entered the main keep. “You're always running everywhere! Stop and chat!”
    When she