Chapter 21: Her Hands

The Princess waited until Jiro had pulled on his coat.

Then she turned around, and looked at Hanae, and did something Hanae had not expected.

She bowed.

It was a short, stiff bow, from a girl who had been taught that she bowed to no one.

"Madam Innkeeper," said the Princess. "The notice that said the Sword Saint retired with honor went out under my seal."

"I signed it on the Hero's word."

"I did not read it twice."

"I will correct it in the capital, in the same words, on the same wall."

"That's kind," said Hanae.

"It is not kind. It is overdue." She straightened.

"I will speak with Master Kurogane this afternoon. Until then, I would like you both to wash and eat and sleep, in that order."

She walked out, and shut the door behind her very gently.

Hanae stared at it.

"I think," said Jiro, "that she likes you."

"She hates everyone."

"Then you are the exception."

He went to find Shiori and a clean bandage.

She went to the bathhouse, because there was nothing else in the world she wanted.

The cypress tub was full when she got there.

Someone had lit the stove and carried the water, and somebody else had laid out soap and a rough cloth on the stool.

She knew who.

She stripped off her robe, and her hands looked terrible in the lantern light.

They were chapped and cracked, and blistered across the palms where she had held the skillet.

The wrist the ladder bar had struck was swollen and black.

She had not felt any of it, until now.

She slid into the water and hissed at the sting.

Then she lay back against the cool wooden rim and shut her eyes.

For the first time in two days she let her shoulders drop.

The door slid open.

"I was told," said Jiro, from the steam, "that I may not work, I may not lift, and I may not cross the yard."

"Then why are you here?"

"The bathhouse is not in the yard. It is behind the well."

She laughed, and opened her eyes.

He had changed into a clean grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

He carried a small jar in his right hand, and she knew the smell before he lifted the lid: ginger and camellia.

He knelt on the slatted floor beside the tub.

"Give me your hands," he said.

"They're disgusting."

"Give me your hands."