The Tengu's Game of Go by Lian Hearn

some deformity: a missing eye, hand, or leg, twisted limbs, scarred features. Yet Mu was aware of hidden abilities that compensated for their handicaps.
    Kinpoge had sat behind him most of the way, except when pain from the unfamiliar act of riding forced him to walk for a while, and she took the reins. She liked being in control of the horse and begged him not to lead her but to let her canter after Chika. Now she slid down from the gray’s back and was immediately surrounded by a clutch of children of all ages, chattering at her, pelting her with questions.
    A man came to lead the horses away, a couple of large dogs at his heels. He smiled shyly at Mu, who realized it was his youngest brother, Ku. They embraced, Ku awkward and seemingly embarrassed.
    â€œYou can talk later,” Chika said. “I’m sure Ku is very busy and Kiku is waiting for you.”
    Mu raised his eyebrows, but Ku merely bowed deferentially without meeting his gaze. It was obvious that, as the tengu had told him, Kiku had made Ku his servant.
    Chika urged him forward.
    â€œStay with your cousins,” he told Kinpoge, who looked as if she was going to follow them. “They’ll take you to meet your aunt Kaze. You’ll meet your uncles later.”
    Apart from the men at the gate, Mu’s sharp hearing told him others were concealed in the guardhouse, and when they were shown into Kiku’s presence, he knew there were more, in alcoves and behind curtains around the room.
    He is afraid I’ll attack him! The idea amused him. He did not often need the cane to walk with, but he had brought it with him and now leaned on it, a little more than was necessary.
    From the veranda they entered an anteroom where screen doors slid open silently to allow them into the main hall. It looked out over the cliffs to the sea, and the restless surge of the waves below was a constant background noise. On this bright autumn day the sea was calm, its color deep indigo. In the distance, several white-fringed islands could be seen. One had the red bird-perch gate of a shrine; the others seemed uninhabited except by seabirds. Twisted pines had been carved into grotesque shapes by the northeasterly wind. Mu tried to imagine what it would be like in winter, when snow covered the town and gales lashed the fortress.
    The room was spacious, sparsely furnished, the floor dark polished cedar, the shutters cypress, their inner surfaces carved with scenes of life in Kitakami. One side was covered with woven wall hangings of exotic landscapes, dragons, and sea serpents.
    Kiku sat at the far end, his back to the sea. The brightness of the light made it hard to see his face. On his right was his brother Kuro, on his left the warrior Tsunetomo, who had tied Mu up and left him crippled. Both Kuro and Tsunetomo had mustaches and beards, unkempt like wild men, but Kiku was clean shaven. Mu studied all three of them, glad to realize he felt nothing, no anger, no resentment.
    Chika had entered the room after him and now went down on one knee, bowing his head low. Mu remained standing. To his surprise, both Kiku and Tsunetomo placed their hands palms down on the matting and, leaning forward, touched their foreheads to the floor. After a moment’s hesitation, Kuro followed them.
    Chika shuffled forward and indicated a silk cushion. Mu sat down, cross-legged. Kiku raised his head. Tsunetomo and Kuro stayed low.
    â€œWelcome, brother,” Kiku said. His voice had changed, had become deeper and more cultured, yet the same hard edge was still there and still menacing. His eyes were gleaming, but at the same time expressionless. His skin had lost its copper tone and was pale, as though he rarely went outside. “I am very glad to see you again. I believe our old friend Chika has conveyed to you my deep regret for the past.”
    Mu wondered how genuine he was and how much of it was part of some deep, elaborate scheme. What were his true intentions? At any