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between the buildings and became the tracker instead of the tracked. This didn’t last long. The fortuneteller realized the trick. She stopped and turned around to face Tomoe Gozen.
    Tomoe couldn’t see the woman’s face, for a veil hung from the front of her straw hat’s brim. A pair of intense eyes peered over the veil. By those eyes, it was clear that the woman beneath the hat was younger than Tomoe would have guessed; the limp, then, was the fault of injury, not age. If the occultist were ugly or beautiful, Tomoe could not tell; the eyes, at least, were normally attractive.
    â€œWhy do you follow me?” asked Tomoe.
    â€œYou followed me,” the other stated. Tomoe only stared. In a moment the fortuneteller confessed, “You looked wealthier than this district’s usual clientele. I had hoped to read your fortune and charge you double.”
    â€œIf that were true,” said Tomoe, “why reveal your ploy so easily? Now I will know if you try to cheat me.”
    â€œMy services are worth double in this case,” said the woman in red. Her bells tinkled as she talked. The staff seemed to waver in her grasp and Tomoe noted that three of five fingers were bent, as though they’d once been broken. Those eyes glared steadily from under the hat’s brim and through the crack above the veil. “By my occult power,” she said, “I sensed you were in danger. Demons haunt you! I would tell you what this portends—for a price.”
    Perhaps the fortuneteller spoke truthfully. She might have sensed the gaki spirit attached to Tomoe’s sword; or she might have discerned that Tomoe had been recently in contact with demonic tengu. All the same, Tomoe had no interest in news of her future. She said, “A samurai is always prepared for death. Our ignorance about tomorrow helps us remain ready.”
    The fortuneteller nodded understanding. “I will follow you no more, then. If you see me again, it is coincidence.” As the woman turned to go away, Tomoe caught a momentary outline of the face’s profile. She thought she recognized that silhouette.
    â€œI know you!” said Tomoe. “You were a nun!” The moment she said it, she knew it wasn’t possible. The nun she was thinking of had been slain a long time ago. The fortuneteller turned back to face Tomoe once more.
    â€œYou think I could have been a nun?” There was laughter. “No one forgets me who has seen my face; I can be mistaken for no other.” She started to draw aside the veil, then thought better of it, preserving the mystery. “No, samurai, you cannot know me.” She raised a finger and pointed over Tomoe’s shoulder. “Perhaps you know her better.”
    Tomoe looked behind and saw Azo Hono-o standing in the street. “Tomoe!” Azo called, hurrying forth from the crowd. “Why are you standing in the middle of the street talking to yourself?”
    â€œI was talking to this fortuneteller.”
    â€œTo who? There is no one here!”
    Tomoe scanned the street, but could not detect where the fortuneteller had gone. Azo Hono-o said,
    â€œIt’s been weeks! Remember our oath: When next we met, we were to test each others’ skills!”
    â€œThe time is not right,” said Tomoe, agitated. “No one must know I’m in Isso. A public match is not feasible.”
    Azo looked annoyed. “You evade the duel too often! Could it be you fear my sword?”
    â€œThink as you wish.”
    â€œWell, I bring encouragement for you: Your father no longer hunts you. He has declared you officially dead!”
    Tomoe looked surprised, then upset.
    â€œIt’s true,” said Azo. “He made your grandmother fold your clothing right-over-left as for a corpse. Any possessions you kept in Heida were given to a temple for distribution among the poor. As a result your grandmother will not speak to him anymore, but lives in his