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。 He extended them and； when Nicholas touched them； it was the only physical link between them。 'Remember；' he said； 'there is a chain。 Thin。 Link by link it goes。 Take care you discover the identity of the next link on； lest the chain break in your hands and you are left defenceless。' Then he handed over the sheets。 His hand lowered with a kind of grave finality。
'Sayonara； Nicholas。'
'Sayonara； sensei。' Tears filled his eyes so fully that he could see only a blur rise and leave the room。 I love you； he thought。 It was what he had wanted to say to the Colonel that day in the Zen garden and hadn't。
He heard no door click shut but abruptly he knew that he was alone in the house of cedar。
Oddly； the first thing he noticed was that the woodbine had died。 Ataki no longer came； and during the last weeks the Colonel had been too ill to think of hiring a replacement。 The hedges； always so carefully pruned even in winter； were spiky with branches left unchecked。 The ground was hard with ice and frozen snow。
He felt a rising desire to run inside and tell Cheong that he was leaving but he was so uncertain of her response that he lingered awhile outside。
Above him the sky was a rich cobalt blue with just a few tracings of high cirrus clouds and； farther down； orange along the horizon where the sun slid through the thick haze。 Far away； he thought he could hear the rumbling drone of a 707 ing down at Haneda。
Now he might have regretted canceling his dinner date with a couple of school chums in the city； he had told Cheong this morning he'd be home late。 But； the decision being made to leave for Kyoto where the new ryu was located； he had felt the need for pletion。 And that would not e until he had told her。
Inside； the house was quite still as it had been since the moment he had returned home from Kumamoto； as if that had bee some inexplicable nexus point in all their lives。 Loss had followed gain and he wondered now if it had been worth it。 He thought once more of the day of Roku…No…Miya and her certitude of the implacability of fate。 Thought； too； of the Colonel's conviction that he had been taken by forces he knew nothing of。 Life could not be so cruelly unfathomable。
He went through the darkened hall； wondering that none of the lights had been lit。
The kitchen was deserted。 No one answered his call。 He shrugged off his coat； threw it over the back of a chair； went towards the back of the house。 Stillness nodded deferentially to him； ancient as time。
He came； at length to his parents' room。 The thin paper shoji was closed but； beyond； a light was on and he caught the edge of a shadow； moving。
He hesitated； reluctant to disturb Cheong if she was about to rest。 Tomorrow； he promised himself； he would take her to the grave and together they would kneel before the marker of new cedar； lighting the incense and saying the prayers in English and in Japanese。
The shadow moved again and he called out her name softly into the falling night。 No answer came and cautiously he opened the shoji。
He stood perfectly still； one foot in； one out； staring。 All the breath had gone out of him。 His head pounded and he felt a shock at the base of his neck as if from contact with a live wire。 All the tatamis save one had been taken outside。 The futon was folded in a neat pile in the far corner。 One round white paper…shaded lamp was on against the right wall。 Beyond； outside the glass panels of the far wall； lay the blue…whiteness of the snow； virgin； without one footprint to mar its granular surface。 It seemed unnaturally pale against the black backdrop of the croptomeria and pine forest。 There were no lights in the sky。 The one remaining tatami had been placed in the centre of the room； the surrounding wood floor seemed naked； like raw flesh with the skin stripped away。 On it Cheong knelt with her back to him。 She wore a formal light grey kimono with obi。 The one with the pink roses embroidered across it。 Her back was bowed； her head down as if in prayer。 The light gleamed on her blue…black hair； immaculately coiffed。
At her right side tiny Itami knelt； sitting at right angles so that he could see her profile。 She； too； was dressed formally in a midnight…blue kimono； sleeves edged in crimson； milk…white obi。
The absolute stillness of the room was a tangible force； a rigid barrier holding him from further movement； even from speech。
Then one sound came； as sharp and near and startling as the first break of thunder from an unexpected storm。
It was the slither of steel against a sheath。
Cheong's right arm moved with unnatural speed and for the briefest instant。 Nicholas's mind was unaccountably filled with the sight of bursting cherry blossoms； impossibly pink against green foliage。 Now that it had menced； the transition from absolute motionlessness to rapid movement was irrevocable。
Saw the blade flashing platinum as its length caught die lamplight； as blinding as the sun； slashing inward in the blur of conviction that was necessary。 Into the left side of the abdomen。
A thin cry like a startled bird's but no fear and the body remained still。 A slight trembling； the perfect folds of the silk disturbed； an eyelash's flutter just before the violent jerk with both hands on the hilt； left to right； horizontally across the abdominal cavity。 Only now the shoulders shook somewhat and he could hear a gasping as of a bellows desperately working。 Droplets of sweat rolling down her forehead； dropping； darkening the tatami。
This must be a dream。
Saw the tension e into her elbows as she brought the blade upward towards her sternum。 Such strength and force of will many men did not possess。
With infinite slowness； as if settling by degrees； fists still locked around the hilt； Cheong's body began to crumple forward； still in total control； a living monument。 Her forehead touched the floor before the edge of the tatami。
As if that were a signal； Itami now moved。 Her right hand fled to her side。 With a harsh rasp； the katana； previously hidden within the folds of her kimono； was nakedly revealed and； standing now； she raised it high over her head。 The blade menced its downward motion with a hot hissing sound as if those fearful shades of steel were anxious to feel the warm flesh part。
In an instant； Cheong's head was cleanly severed from her neck。 Only then did the body lose its control and collapse pletely。 Blood seeped darkly； neatly； just a little of it； as if sprinkled there by a decorator。
'No！'
At last released； Nicholas sprang across the room。 Itami； staring down at the beautiful head； black and white and crimson； did not even look up。
'What！ What！' He could not think。 His tongue seemed an impossible weight in his mouth and he resisted the desire to rip it out。 He looked at nothing but the body of his mother。 And her head。
'It is done now； Nicholas。' Itami's voice seemed distant and gentle at the same time。 The bloody katana was at her side。 'She is a child of honour。'
Fifth Ring
THE NINJA
I
New York CityWest Bay Bridge； Summer Present
Someone began screaming； even before the lock shattered and the heavy door slammed inward in a crack of thunder。
The room was a shambles。
A bulky shape ran past him； across the room to the open window。
He began to struggle with it immediately because it had been his stupidity that had brought this on and if he did not work it out right now he would be no damn good in the next few hours and that would without a doubt prove fatal。 He did not want to die。
Noted in passing the woman spread…eagled on the bed。 Her flesh appeared to have been oiled； the light lying in long sweeps whitening the skin。 Chinese。
He had known just as they had banged open the front door to Ah Ma's； in the wake of the tsunami。 Took you bloody well long enough； he berated himself。
The woman stared not at him but at the muscled legs crisscrossing hers； wide shoulders at the edge； of the stained coverlet； head off the bed at an odd angle。 It was she who was screaming。 The silken bond held her from moving。 Her eyes were wide enough for him to see the whites all round。 She might have been a madwoman and he saw why。
Upside down； Philip looked