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Read Ebook: The shrine by Sheldon Walter J
Font size: Background color: Text color: Add to tbrJar First Page Next PageEbook has 134 lines and 7035 words, and 3 pagesRelease date: November 19, 2023 Original publication: New York, NY: King-Size Publications, Inc, 1956 the shrine Naito smiled. "You are still in the grip of time, Mr. Blair. Spend some with us and you will slip a little from its tyranny." The American stopped to rest, to daub his brow, and he withdrew for a moment into the mottled shade beside the trail. Ahead the mountain rose and became blue with distance. A figure in a saffron robe moved down the trail, and toward him. "A woman," said his lips without sound. His eyes clocked surprise. He was Edward Blair. He worked for the English-language Tokyo Tribune. It was as good a paper as any to work for when your career had been interrupted twice by war. You could coast on the Tokyo Trib. You could let things not matter. Now he watched the woman. She walked with a gliding motion; though her steps were tiny and downhill, her shoulders moved in an even line. They were small shoulders and, as she neared, he saw above them an oval face, a beautiful and simple face with golden skin and eyes of dark velvet. He stepped out of the shade and smiled as she came upon him. She showed no surprise, and he was startled to hear her speak good English. "You are Mr. Blair." "Why, yes. Yes, I am." "I am sent to meet you. I am sorry to be late." "That's all right." "I will show you the way to the shrine." "Well, thanks. But they said in the village it was easy to find. Just follow the trail to the top of the mountain." "But I will take you." "A pleasure, believe me," said Ed Blair, and grinned. And now they walked together, she effortlessly, like silk waved in air. He seemed to walk more easily, too. He no longer panted. The long grasses, the persimmon trees and the bamboo groves went by. He carried a press camera and a bag full of bulbs, but they no longer seemed heavy. "Nice of them to send you," he told the girl. She laughed. There are tinkling strips of glass hung in a Japanese garden in summer for their cool sound. She laughed like this. "Naito-san has reason for sending me. He always has reason." "Naito-san?" "He is Obo--the high priest, you say in English. He taught me English." "And your name?" "Yuki." "That can mean snow or flower," said Blair. "You know Japanese writing?" "No, but I heard it somewhere." He laughed. Then he mopped his brow again. "Hot, isn't it?" "We must have a breeze," she said. A breeze sprang up. "Well! You certainly ordered that one!" "Naito-san said to make you comfortable." She said this quite seriously. They walked some more, and he forgot the coincidence. He watched the girl, admiring her effortless walk. Presently he said, "Well, I'm going to enjoy this visit, anyway." "Enjoy?" "I didn't think I would at first. I thought it was all just another crazy idea of Murdock's. He's the managing editor. I told him he was crazy to send me out here to the mountains and waste three days getting a brightener for page two." "I do not understand all of what you say." "These magic tricks the monks do. What I mean is, they're interesting, but not big, important news. We call a story like this a feature. We don't usually take a lot of time or trouble with it." "But they are not magic tricks. They are more." "Well--all right. I understand how you feel." He wondered what her place in the Hataka Shrine might be. Priestess perhaps. Except that you couldn't use western words for these things. The ideas were different. But she was beautiful--that was the same in any language! They reached the shrine in some twenty minutes of climbing, and because of the breeze, and because his feet had suddenly become light, he was not exhausted. The shrine was in a flat place near the top of the mountain. It was not imposing: it had no huge tori, or entranceway, like a Shinto shrine, and there was little elaborate gilding or carving. Inside there was a kind of chancel with flowers, incense holders and hanging prayers and mottoes. There were low buildings off to one side, and the land about them was a carefully made garden, cool and withdrawn, and both men and women in robes of gray or saffron or blue walked about this garden quietly. Then an old man, bald and with skin like saddle leather came forward. He was old, but his eyes were more; they were ageless, like black sky on a cloudless night. He wore silk. He smiled, but with restraint, then offered his hand, western style. "Welcome, Mr. Blair. I am Naito. We are glad to have you here." "Thank you. How do you do." "You'll want a hot bath, I think ... and then a little rest. After that we can eat together, and talk." "Well--thanks--but actually I'd like to get the story, then go on back to the village again. The last train leaves about six." "But you must stay longer. Surely." "No, I really ought to get back to the office. Took me a day and a half to get here, after all." Naito smiled and shook his head. "You are still in the grip of time, Mr. Blair. Spend some with us and you will slip a little from its tyranny." "You're very kind, Mr. Naito. But--well, you have your world and I have mine. Time's important in mine. If you could just show me some of these tricks you do--" "Ah, tricks! Tricks!" Naito still smiled, but Blair felt the anger radiate from him, like heat. "You want to see our tricks, then?" "Well, that's what I came here for--" Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page |
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