“Tell that to televangelists.” I glanced Dani. “What will you do with the cloak?”
“I don’t know.” Her face took on a determined expression. “Doctor Bloodstone, do you think my grandfather knew what it was and entrusted it to me after his death?”
“I see no evidence to the contrary.”
Dani crossed to the desk and opened the box. She rubbed her hand over the cloak and smiled. Her head came up and her spine straightened. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
Bloodstone shook his head. “I am quite certain that is not for me to know. I am equally certain, however, that if you did not have the answer within you, the cloak would never have found you.”
“You really believe that?”
“I have great faith in it, Miss Granger.”
She touched the cloak again, then closed the box and snapped the latch shut. “So do I. I don’t know what I will do, but I’ll do something.”
“Of course.” Bloodstone bowed his head to her. “And you will make your grandfather proud.”
ANCESTRAL ARMOR by John Helfers
Wreathed in the golden rays of the rising sun, the samurai stood motionless, one hand at his side, the other resting on the hilt of his katana. He was dressed in a magnificent suit of armor, with a do maru, or breastplate; kuzakuri, armored skirt; haidate, thigh guards, and sode, large square arm guards, all made of gleaming dark green lamellar: thousands of overlapping tiny scales lacquered into small plates and bound together with leather cords. All of the pieces had been decorated with hundreds of small, stylized pine trees, each one centered in a mountain peak so that they formed a pattern of larger scales on the armor. His arms were encased in dark blue kote, padded sleeves with metal plates attached at the end to protect his hands. His suneate, or shin guards, were made of dark blue lamellar, as was his nodowa, or throat protector. His kabuto, or helmet, was also colored in the same motif, with a dark green shikoro, or flared neck guard attached under the deep blue helm. Unlike other samurai, this warrior did not have a large crest on his kabuto but instead had a simple round medallion featuring the black pine tree affixed to the front brim. His unblinking, dark brown eyes were visible above a dark green menpo, a carved mask that covered the lower half of his face.
Four armed and ready men surrounded him, two holding swords and two wielding spears. They were clad in various pieces of mismatched armor, with plain helmets and iron breastplates. Each of the quartet was completely focused on the samurai in their midst.
A few steps away, Kitsune did his best to remain absolutely still, not wanting to disturb the scene that was ready to burst into furious motion at any second. Beside him, Ashiga Asano, his mentor in the arts of sorcery and court physician to the Emperor of Japan, regarded the men with his usual calm gaze, his arms folded inside his simple silk kimono, leaving the empty sleeves to flutter in the spring breeze. Next to him stood a broad, imposing man with his hair drawn back in the traditional topknot. He was dressed in a neat kimono with a large pine tree and mountain sigil embroidered on the back, and he carried the katana and wakizashi of the samurai sheathed on his uwa-obi, or belt.
Asano looked sidelong at Kitsune, a whisper leaking out of the corner of his mouth. “Would you care to predict what is about to happen?”
Kitsune stared at the five poised men, sensing their ki, or inner energy, rolling off in waves, battling across the field in a kind of psychic duel, each one waiting for their opponent’s concentration to flag for even an instant-for that would be the time to strike. “I suspect that the next several moments will not go to according to the four men’s wishes.”
Asano nodded. “They have already lost-”
As the words left his lips, the five men exploded into furious action. The pair in front of the samurai attacked as one, the spear-wielder thrusting his weapon at his opponent’s head while the swordsman raised his blade and lunged, ready to cleave the man from shoulder to waist. The two men in the rear were also on the move, charging the samurai’s unprotected back.
The armored warrior stepped forward to meet the charge of his enemy, ducking underneath the spear’s point while executing a flawless iaijutsu draw and slicing across the swordsman’s abdomen. Before the man fell to the ground, the samurai whirled in a half-turn and brought his blade around in a deadly arc, opening the spearman’s side even while he tried to bring the butt of his weapon up in defense. The spear fell harmlessly aside as the second enemy went down, his chest slashed open.
The samurai completed his turn to face the remaining two men as they closed. The swordsman came in first, with the spearman following. The armored warrior continued his circular attack, bringing the sword up in a diagonal slice across the man’s chest as his opponent tried to swing his weapon down at the same time. The samurai struck first, and the warrior fell, the third victim of the single sword stroke.
The final soldier charged with his spear, but the samurai, his katana still raised, used the blade to parry the point and shove it to one side. As the spearman ran past, the armored warrior grabbed the wooden shaft with his free hand and jerked the fighter even farther forward. The man staggered, trying to keep his balance as the samurai executed another half-turn and slashed him across the back, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“-they just had not realized it yet.” Asano finished.
The entire fight had taken less than three seconds.
The samurai sheathed his katana in one fluid motion as the four men rose, all bowing to each other. The victorious warrior untied his mempo and helmet and removed both, revealing the unlined face of a young man barely out of his teens under black hair shaved at the sides and back and bound in a topknot. Tucking the helmet under his arm, he strode toward the small group that had been watching and bowed to each of them in turn, including Kitsune. As he came up, he rocked back on his heels, his right hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. Despite the casualness of the group, his eyes flicked from each of them, his body tense, as if expecting another attack at any moment.
“Your skill is impressive indeed, Nishina-san. Your province is certainly in the hands of a capable warrior.” Asano studied the young warrior’s helmet. “I see that your family’s crest signifies longevity.”
“Not only my family’s crest, this was my grandfather’s and my father’s suit of battle armor, may their spirits rest in peace.” The man noticed Kitsune’s eyes on his katana. “My grandfather’s and father’s-and now my-blade, of course.”
Kitsune knew what was expected. “A magnificent weapon, and superbly wielded this fine spring morning.”
Nishina bowed. “Perhaps later I could arrange a closer examination of the entire daisho, if you wish.”
Asano nodded. “It would be an honor for us to have a closer look at the famed Nishina blades.”
The young man’s eyes lit up at Asano’s words, but his reply was interrupted.
“Morning practice is over, Nishina-san. Perhaps you should change before we break our fast.” This came from the stocky man that had also observed the fight, the Nishina clan’s sensei.
For a moment, the young man looked as if he was about to protest, but he nodded instead. “Hai, Inoue-san. I should review the terrain and mountain passes to the south again anyway.” The young man bowed to the group again, then turned on his heel and stalked across the practice field toward the white multistory pagoda castle that loomed over everyone.