There was a pause, then she asked, “You’re not from here?” When he shook his head, she said bitterly, “Most people think of us as animals. They only treat our women decently when they want their bodies. Untouchable! Pah! They can’t get enough of touching us in bed.” Her voice shook with anger.

Hitomaro was sorry and said so.

She tossed her head. “Don’t be! We make them pay.”

Remembering the silver bar, he said awkwardly, “Let me buy you dinner tonight.” Seeing her flush, he added quickly, “No strings attached. I’d like to make up for mentioning your hair.”

She chuckled at that. “I was wrong about you. I tell you what. You can be my guest. I’m Yasuko. We have a beautiful salmon at home, and if you don’t mind eating with outcasts, I can promise you a fine meal.”

Hitomaro accepted eagerly. Before he left the wineshop, he got directions to her village. The intervening hours he passed talking to market vendors about the three convicts.

♦

Shortly after sunset he was walking rapidly along the country road in the gathering dusk. He carried a gift of rice cakes stuffed with sweet bean paste, and felt a general sense of satisfaction with his day. His master would be especially pleased to hear that he had already made friends with two of the hinin.

Because Hitomaro was preoccupied with the genealogy that had produced two such extraordinary women as his curly-haired hostess and the pale goddess he had met earlier, he was unprepared for an ambush.

At a bend in the narrow road, near a stand of pines surrounding a small shrine to the fox spirit, a band of rough men, their faces covered with black cloth below their eyes, fell upon him with cudgels and staffs. Dropping his packages, he went into a defensive stance, ducking and fending off the blows, but he was unarmed and badly outnumbered. He took them for a band of robbers at first, but since he was wearing old clothes, they could hardly have expected to enrich themselves.

When he realized who they were, he fought back with renewed fury though he was at a disadvantage against so many cudgels, wielded with such expertise. At first they struck at his arms and legs and his lower back. He landed a few kicks to a groin or two and put his fist into a few faces, but then a well-placed hit to the side of his head sent him reeling. Flashes of red-hot pain exploded behind his eyes and his knees buckled. He collapsed in the roadway.

When he came to he was still lying down. Every part of his body hurt, but mostly his head. He tried to push the pain aside to concentrate on where he was. Odd sounds of rummaging and murmuring meant he was among people, and he opened his eyes a slit. He seemed to be lying on a dirt floor, looking up at an opening in a strange conical roof. Firelight flickered across beams and rafters that were tied together with vines. Nets, woven from sedge and holding various household goods, hung suspended from them. The flickering light and a certain warmth on one side of his body told him that he lay next to a fire. Its smoke spiraled up toward a patch of starry sky.

He turned his head painfully and verified that the fire was contained in a sunken pit. Beyond he saw dim shapes—people— seated or standing in the outer gloom that the firelight did not reach. He grunted experimentally, and one of the shapes approached and became Yasuko, the waitress from the wineshop.

“Oh, it’s you,” he mumbled. “I don’t remember getting here.” He grimaced and felt his scalp gingerly, wincing again at the sharp pain in his shoulder and arm. He noticed blood on his hand and sleeve, and his hand looked bruised and swollen. Memory returned suddenly, and he jerked upright with a string of bloodcurdling curses.

“Lie down!” instructed a deep, commanding voice. Hitomaro obeyed because pain and a sudden dizziness made the room spin crazily. When his head cleared, he looked up at an old man with a silken mane of white hair and a long beard. The old man was bending over him to apply a cool and fragrant compress to his head. Hitomaro sighed with relief and closed his eyes again.

Then Yasuko began to wash the blood from his hands and face and he looked at her. She smiled. “You are in good hands,” she said. “The master himself was visiting our village when Kaoru brought you home.”

She was very gentle with him. Hitomaro murmured, “Oh. Much obliged. I was waylaid near a fox shrine.” When she was done, he raised himself again, more carefully, and looked around. “I had some rice dumplings I meant to give you, but I must’ve dropped them when those bastards jumped me. At first, I thought it was a hell of a thing to do to a fellow for a few dumplings ... Who’s Kaoru?”

“I am.” Slim and muscular, the young man wore the traditional garb of a woodsman. Like Hitomaro, he had a short beard and mustache but his hair was long and loose. He came closer and looked down at Hitomaro. “I doubt it was the dumplings,” he said. “Those men were set on giving you a beating, maybe even killing you. It was hard to get their attention.” He smiled, his teeth very white against the brown skin.

Hitomaro smiled back, painfully since his lip was split and swollen. “No, it wasn’t the dumplings. You’re the one who brought me here?” he asked. “Thanks, friend. I won’t forget the favor. How did you manage it by yourself?”

“Oh, I was not alone.” Kaoru smiled again, and, reaching for a large, beautifully made bow, said, “Meet my assistant, Dragon Flash.” He whistled softly, “And my best friend, White Bear.” A large, shaggy white dog appeared. The dog leaned against the woodsman’s leg and looked down at Hitomaro. Yawning largely, he revealed a set of ferocious teeth, then let his tongue loll out to give Hitomaro a friendly greeting.

“You managed to incapacitate two of them. I wounded four,” the woodsman said. “White Bear savaged the legs and buttocks of four more, and the rest decided to run for it, carrying off their wounded. There were twelve altogether, I think.”

“You have made a bad enemy,” remarked the old man to Hitomaro, as he came to change the compress on his head. “Perhaps you would rather not tell us your name under the circumstances. You are among friends here. We know all about keeping secrets and we often give refuge to those in trouble with the authorities.”

“The authorities?” Hitomaro looked shocked. “Good heavens! Those bastards were scum. They were the hired thugs of a fellow called Sunada. We had a small disagreement earlier in the day after one of them roughed up a friend of a friend.”

The old man sighed. “Sunada’s men? In this place, authority is not always in official hands, so watch yourself, my son.” Turning to Yasuko, he said, “He will stay here overnight. A very light supper, and a solid breakfast, and he should do well enough. Now I must check on my other patient.”

“No!” Hitomaro began to scramble up again, but the white-beard placed a surprisingly strong hand against his chest and forced him back. “You don’t understand,” Hitomaro pleaded. “I have to return to the city tonight. I’m meeting a friend.”