Draining the last drop of wine from her cup, Balsa breathed a contented sigh. What a surprise it had been to be invited to Ninomiya Palace! True, she had saved the prince’s life, but as a foreigner, she was of even lower rank than a commoner: The most she had expected was a sum of money. Indeed, when she left the prince with his courtiers on the riverbank earlier that day, an attendant had asked where she was lodging so he could bring her a reward. But the messenger who appeared at the inn said that the prince’s mother, the Second Queen, wished to entertain her at the palace first.
The Mikado, the divine ruler of New Yogo, had three wives. The one who bore him his first son was known as the First Queen; the one who bore his second son, the Second Queen. Balsa had heard that there were no further heirs to the throne beyond the Second Prince, as the Third Queen had borne no sons. Such tales, however, concerned people of a different sphere than hers, and she knew no more.
Balsa was not so ignorant of the world that the royal invitation made her vain: She knew that royalty only treat commoners kindly when they want something in return. While she was fully aware that the summons meant trouble, she could hardly refuse it without appearing rude — and that would only mean even worse trouble. She had had no choice but to come.
Still, she was being given what seemed a wholehearted welcome; the Second Queen must love her son very much. The room in which Balsa ate was located in the outermost reaches of the palace, but a large charcoal brazier kept the space comfortably warm, and the meal was like nothing she had ever tasted before: crisply fried, juicy chicken; a subtly flavored cream soup; and fine wine, served in an elegant glass goblet. She savored every dish without fear of poisoning, for she knew that if anyone had wanted to silence her, they would have assassinated her at the inn, not at the palace.
Although the queen had summoned her, she did not come to Balsa in person, but instead sent the prince’s chamberlain to convey her gratitude. Balsa was not surprised by this; according to Yogoese belief, members of the royal family were direct descendants of the great god Ten no Kami, and the divine power within them could unintentionally harm those in its path, like water flowing downhill. A commoner could be blinded just looking into their eyes.
Balsa turned to the chamberlain now and bowed. “Thank you for the delicious meal,” she said. “A commoner such as I does not deserve such an excellent dinner.”
The chamberlain, his white beard elegantly trimmed, bowed his head. “It is hardly sufficient repayment for saving the prince’s life. Her Highness asks that you stay in the palace tonight.”
Balsa frowned slightly. “I couldn’t possibly take advantage of such kindness. Please tell her this delicious meal is more than enough.”
“No, really,” the chamberlain protested. He patted Balsa on the shoulder, as if to reassure her there was no need to stand on ceremony, but then whispered quickly and almost soundlessly in her ear, “The queen has need of you. Please stay the night.” Immediately his voice returned to normal. “The palace’s hot-spring bath is marvelous. I’m sure you will never forget it.”
Balsa bowed her head in assent. She had no choice but to accept.
True to the chamberlain’s words, the bath was excellent. After a luxurious soak in the marble bathhouse — its hot-spring waters piped in, as only the nobility could afford — Balsa stepped outside and walked toward the outdoor pool in a corner of the walled garden. The cold night air bit her skin, but when she slipped hurriedly into the steaming tub, the heat spread slowly through her. White steam rose into the night air, and the red autumn leaves swayed in the hazy light of the torches placed about the garden. Above her wheeled a dark sky full of stars.
I’ll just have to take things as they come, Balsa thought.
Once out of the bath, she put on the fresh underclothes that had been laid out for her, but then donned her old traveling clothes. The serving woman attending her frowned. “I set out new clothes …”
Balsa smiled. “Thank you, but I think I’ll be more comfortable wearing the clothes I’m used to. A commoner like me isn’t used to such luxury. Besides,” she continued, “I always carry a change of clothes, so it’s not like I never wash them.”
The serving woman smiled stiffly and led the way down a long, dark corridor to Balsa’s sleeping quarters. Sliding doors covered in luxurious gold and silver brocade enclosed the room on all sides. Balsa guessed that each door opened onto a room similar to her own. Her bedding was already laid out in the middle of the room on thick straw tatami mats. She made sure that her spear and belongings were placed close at hand, then, loosening only her sash, she crawled under the covers and stretched out. The mattress felt heavenly.
It’s as soft as a cloud, she thought. The nobility must sleep like this every night, but for me it’s a little taste of paradise. I wonder how long it will last…. Despite her awareness of impending danger, she let the warmth of the bath and the exhaustion of the day take hold of her.
Most people fall asleep gradually, drifting back and forth between deeper and lighter sleep. Even when they wake, they do not regain full consciousness immediately. Balsa, however, could drop instantly into a deep sleep, as if tumbling to the bottom of a ravine, and when she woke, she was completely alert — a custom acquired through long years of training.
She snapped awake in the middle of the night at the sound of footsteps approaching. Two people were drawing near — not from the corridor, but from one of the other rooms. Despite the caution they took, she could tell they were amateurs who did not know how to silence their footfalls. She sat up abruptly.
A voice whispered from behind one of the doors: “Balsa.” She was surprised to hear it was a woman.