InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Transient Winds ❯ Gusting Winds ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter 4

 

Gusting Winds

 

--((()))--

 

Tenrai's biggest fear lay in the palm of his right hand, underneath that damn cloth. Standing before enemies he would jerk back the prayer beads and release a tornado of wind. Each time his opponent would disappear from view in an instant as though some mystical spell had been cast, such as the disappearing acts he had seen the street magicians perform as a young boy.

 

 

Master of Wind. When first mentioned he would grind his teeth, but Mushin convinced him that it was all politics and would serve them well in the end. And it had. People were amazed by the gusting winds the small black hole produced and those who knew of him would race to him and ask for a view or peek of this abyss coming from the palm of his hand. Sometime if he was in a good mood he would show them and they would toss coins or warm meal his way.

 

 

But Tenrai was tired of performing for treats. He was sure the one that had cursed him with such a fate was somewhere in the world laughing at him, if not planning his downfall. In his memory, those piercing red eyes smiled and gleamed from behind the lids of an elderly man. The elderly soul had left the body years before and now traveled as a vessel for the red eyed demon that called himself Naraku.

 

 

No one knew of him. It is as if he was merely a character in Tenrai's imagination, but he was sure that the red eyed demon had been there, smiling in the clearing of the surrounding forest, as his father's own right palm absorbed his body. His gaze fell upon Tenrai with an irritated glint that at the time the young child was ignorant of what it all meant. But with age comes wisdom and Tenrai knew that as long as his bloodline existed, Naraku would be hunted, even he himself had searched for the demon with little luck and that alone brought desperation from young Tenrai.

 

 

After each failed attempt, hopeless thoughts of death would form in his mind and he would lift the cursed hand to his face and turn it palm up towards himself. The silly man he was, he would never unwrap the nenji beads from around his tekko because it honestly scared him passed his own belief.

 

 

It terrified him how it sucked up everything before him, willingly or unwilling. How it ached every time the small hole increased as if whispering death to him. How his father reached out to his mother sucking her into the small opening in his own palm.

 

 

He could never wish this upon a child of his own, but his father had spoken to him of this. Explained to him that it would pass from generation to generation until Naraku was killed. Subsequently, his father would hug him apologize for not being able to bring back the woman he so loved, and disappear himself behind the shadows of his own eyes. His father had withdrawn from him in a sense, but Tenrai knew that he was loved no less than any of the other children in the small shrine village.

 

 

His advise to Tenrai was to look towards the future, but how was he to do that when he could not see pass the curse in his hand, sucking up everything in its path. He wondered if maybe all the creatures all the people, his mother. If they all were alive in another plane another world, somewhere happy maybe.

 

 

Regardless of all this, Tenrai wanted to keep what little hope he had. He wanted a son, a family, wanted to find what his father had found in his mother. After he had found Naraku, he promised himself.

 

 

Over the years, Tenrai had developed skills as a spiritual priest, another trait his father had given him. He had perfected them on his own, heightening his perception. So, it was no surprise that he was the first to spot the dark figure as it emerged out of the brush, their destination on the horizon.

 

 

He blinked hard to make sure that he was not just seeing things. For the man only stood four feet tall and walked with a limp as he approached the oncoming carriage.

 

 

“Who stands in the road?” Tenrai blurted out interrupting the comfortable silence that the three men had settled into. He tilted his head in the man's direction, now out in the open.

 

 

“Huh,” Mushin questioned with a raised brow and a squinted eye.

 

 

Tenrai would have laughed at the expression had it been any other occasion, but he did notice the mature qualities in his friends look. A slight wrinkle here, a crease there. Mushin had been worrying too much.

 

 

“Nao, slow down,” Tanaka ordered in an overly booming voice.

 

 

Like a common servant, Nao did as he was told never questioning his lord, but the thought of suspicion as he gazed at the old man in the road did not stray far from his mind.

 

 

Once again, Tenrai was first to notice the small red droplets that dotted the man's fore head. His eyes were dazed as though he had been staring at the sun all morning.

 

 

Tanaka recognized the man as a lonely farmer in the village. He had once thought of him as nearly his equal in skill alone, but Tanaka, never the one to be defeated refused to acknowledge the commoner.

 

 

His steps were staggered and his feet dragged the ground. Long limb arms dangled at his side and the hems of his kosode had been ripped. Whatever the man had faced seemed to have gotten the best of him.

 

 

“You there,” Tanaka greeted as the carriage pulled beside the staggering man.

 

 

His glazed brown eyes surveyed them oddly enough, as his body begun to crook over. He was not in a panic nor was he afraid, he was there in existence. Their words past through him, but never connected.

 

 

Tenrai cringed at the sight of him. Clearly the man had an atrocious life, but his face as stoic as it was held a sense of pain and agony that Tenrai could not stand to gaze upon. So he turned his head lifting it towards the village in the clearing finding nothing particularly interesting, but finding it more than bearable compared to the sight before him.

 

 

Mushin, who had been staring at the man silently, lifted the material of his kosode and leaped down from the high seat of the carriage. “What is it that troubles you so?” he asked his voice calm and simple as his movements were soft and graceful.

 

 

Seemingly the words brought the unanimated man to life and with vigorous force, he leaped for the carriage falling short and landing face first in the dry dirt. “Do not bring that man into this village!” he screamed at the ground eyes tightly closed. “He is evil!”

 

 

Lifting a crooked finger towards the man in question, he sprung from his place with the sudden energy of a child. “He will kill us all!”

 

 

Tenrai's sights returned back towards the scene, questioning the man's motives. “And who told you this?” He stood gathering his strength as he gazed at the point of the man's finger.

 

 

“A man came to me in a dream. A man of red eyes and hair the color of the night. He warned me of you!” With that the man collapsed to the ground, burying his face in the dusty ground. For a moment it was as if the life had left him, he laid so still and unresponsive to Mushin's reaching hand.

 

 

"Did he tell you his name?" he asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept a close watch on Tenrai.

 

 

His friend lifted to his feet and calmly approached the fallen body before him. His expression was most serene as though the man had not just accused him of being the devil himself. Every the calm soul before the storm, Tenrai glided across the dusty path. Once in front of the pale figure he spoke. "What else did he say? Tell me."

 

 

His breath came out in gushing strains as he shot up from the soft mat that he had been provided, cool beads of sweat tingling his skin as they seeped out of his pores, leaving him unnecessarily chilly in the quite room. Bewilderedly, his gaze scanned the room so sure of the possessed man's presence.

 

 

A dream Tenrai, a mere, dream and nothing more, he told himself still unable to calm his heaving breaths nor slow the hasty beats of his heart.

 

 

Thoughts of earlier that day had been like a plague that night. Time and time again, he whispered reassuring words to himself. "It was not my fault," but he did not know truly if the man's death could have been prevented if he had not come here.

 

 

"He warned me of you," his last words. He had died face down, eyes filled with dirt when Tanaka's guards turned him over.

 

 

What had happened to the man remained a mystery. The only thing that was apparent was that whatever demon held him in his last moments knew of Naraku and had seen him.

 

 

If Tenrai had been more aware, he would have seen the demon leaving the broken body it had come to know, but his mind was to busy gasping the man's words. And as if he had been crazy, for some reason he still waited, wanting an answer.

 

 

Using the back of his shaky hand, he wiped away the cool beads of sweat from his forehead. He slowly lifted to his feet, body quivering. That did not matter to him as he forced open the thin rice paper door leading to the lord's courtyard. The night air was cooler than anticipated and it stung against the exposed skin of his chest peeking out from underneath his white yukata. Barefoot, he stepped into the night in search of what, he did not know, but the jumbled mess that his mind was becoming; he really did not care.

 

 

--((()))--

 

 

It was the crack of the wood that alerted Miyabi as she was already awake. She had stolen from her father's study again, finding his books to be to her liking. At first she thought her father had perhaps gained a clue that she was the one taking his books, and had come to reprimand her. It was his belief that men should worry about such things and women were for show.

 

 

Clumsily, she forced the hard covered book beneath the mat of her bedding, throwing herself over it and closing her eyes, jarring the pointed edge of the book into her side. Nonetheless, she gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, content to bear it for the sake of herself.

 

 

However after moments of silence in her quarters, curiosity became her friend once again, beckoning her to open her eyes to peek. Almost involuntarily, her right eyes popped open only to stare straight into the moonlit room. The dim light, blanketing the floors in hues of blue. Even though, it was empty, she still stayed wrapped up and cozy in the mat staring out of the cooling rice doors into the open courtyard.

 

 

Mind racing after the small excitement gained from simple reading. So much so that she almost missed the heavy shadow that loomed over her room, gliding across the rice doors and continuing on.

 

 

Realization that someone was out there made her stomach flutter. The opportunity of adventure riled her nerves and she could not resist the temptation. Blinking away the nagging notion that her father would find her, she lifted to her barefeet, searching for her tatami sandals. Surely, she would at least go with a little dignity.

 

 

A glutton for punishment, she slipped on her bed jacket spotting her sandals near the door, that she found herself sliding open. Essentially, she looked like a child peeking from behind close doors, tip-toeing through the yard, following shadows in the night. And she loved ever minute of it.

 

 

She smiled to herself noting the wavering shadow fading away through the open field. Compelled, she followed, though the mist covered grasses, careful to keep concealed. When she circled the corner, she saw his figure in the night.

 

 

A man. Tall and stalked, he stumbled a bit like a drunk. She watched him tug and pull on his clothes, ripping his yukata from his upper half from his body, exposing himself to the open air.

 

 

She drew back startled and a bit uncertain. He reminded her of agony, one that she had yet to experience. Everything in her being told her to turn from him and return to the safety of her bed, but she couldn't. This was something she had never laid eyes on before. Something foreign that she, in the deeper part of her mind, wanted to know.

 

 

Besides she had yet to see a bare chested man in public like this. The thought made her giggle to herself, giddy of her predicament.

 

 

The night sky sheltered her as she continued to creep through the woods down the same path that she had followed only a few days before to shred her hair. Her fingers running through the short strands at the memory.

 

 

Never did it occur to her that a man's perception was as well as Tenrai's. He had known of her presence long before she realized he did, he just did not care enough to turn and tell her to go back. He knew of another, though. One that she was ignorant of, trailing her quietly, watching with a grin.

 

 

Tenrai quicken his steps as he entered the forest, sidestepping through thick bamboo branched and soon Miyabi found that she was lost, staring at nothing, but open forest and the darkness further on. She scanned the area, eyes wide and curious.

 

 

"He was..." she thought out loud racing to the last spot she had seen the character, hoping to catch him somewhere close.

 

 

The sudden grasp around her waist knocked the wind from her as her feet were taken from the ground. Her world spun around for only a moment before she came face to face with such a dire expression that it turned her stomach.

 

 

He snarled at her, opening an outsized mouth that looked as though it had been slightly misplaced in accordance with the rest of his features. Eyes that seemed to dark and voided to be real stared at her so close to her own that she could see that they were indeed empty, sunken in deep into its head jarring a nose, overly pointed into her face. He shifted his weight, gliding away from her and she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her. He was excruciatingly tall with a face no bigger than a normal humans.

 

 

He bared teeth as green as the noonday grass and as sharp as the blades she had seen her father carry. His skin covered him like tightly pulled silk, as though it was not enough to cover his frame. The same sickly pale complexion that she had been early that day colored him contrasting against the night sky.

 

 

It did not occur to her that what held her back had nothing to do with the being in front of her, until she wrapped her hands around the tightly pulled muscle that hugged her waist, securing her tightly against him. Beside her, he stood study, unlike her, whose feet could not touch the ground. He did not look at her though she stared up at him with sheer amazement. She had never seen someone so heroic.

 

 

He stood at the ready face still, no fear in his eyes. His hair, she could only see the edges of it around his face dark in the night matching the trim of his brow. The fierceness in his eyes filtered through the darkened pupils matching the open sky above them. He was attractive clearly, face chisel, craved out of stone.

 

 

Before she could take in the slightest of breath, he shifted in his standing, throwing her to the ground behind him for protection.

 

 

His voice was loud and came from the depths of his throat, when he shouted, "Kazaana!" Throwing his right hand before his body, a string of lovely light blue pray beads tangled in his left hand, which he used to hold his right wrist and study himself. She did not see it coming, though she did feel the gust of wind that whipped through her with all the intensity of a storm. Against the howl of the wind, she closed her eyes, for a moment, taking in the coolness of it next to her skin.

 

She could hear the monster before them give a piercing howl and her eye shot open at the sound. The poor creature's body jerked forward towards the man small in comparison with the tower before him. Helplessly it reached back for something anything to hold with no luck. Open mouthed she stared watching the huge body before her mangle and bend to the will of the storm. Its form turning into nothing more than a string of pale ribbon floating helplessly to the palm of her savior. In the recesses of her mind she was could hear the harden bone pop and crack against the echo of the bamboo trees.

 

 

Tenrai recoiled inside. The pain of the opening in his palm sending waves of panic to his mind. No mattered how many times he had to use the voided winds, he could not ease the distressing notion that his mother was the other side waiting for him, along with the father that had curse him and the generation beyond.

 

Though, he watched the demon before him with no pity. His heart did not move from the stoic sensation that he'd carried with him all his life.

 

 

As quick as the wind appeared, it disappeared, in one quick and precise motion as he wrapped his hand with the sky colored beads trapping the purple cloth beneath them. Then silence, leaving just the two of them in the middle of the shaken forest.

 

 

Each figure gaining a little strength with the passing silence between them, unmoving. Miyabi staring up at him in awe and Tenrai staring into the open space where the demon had disappeared before their eyes.

 

 

He is very handsome, she noted unaware of the intensity of her own stared. The damp grass staining the material of her garment and though she could feel the cool dampness grace her leg, she was unaffected. Her mind was to preoccupied with the character that had produced the windstorm from the palm of his hand. Was it a trick of the eye, magic, or some sort of demonic power?

 

 

Tenrai continued his gazed into the distance to be sure that he had killed the only demon that plagued them. Simple darkness and thick bamboo trees greeted him and the small light in the window of the lord's house shone through as if a beacon in the night. Someone was still awake. Hopefully the commotion in the forest was not the cause.

 

 

"Are you okay?" he asked somewhat aloof as he turned to face her.

 

 

"Huh?" Miyabi answered still in a remote daze.

 

 

Tenrai blinked slowly taking in the young woman and her most unusual hairdo. Considering her awkward stares, Tenrai did not feel terrible back about his, before he broke into a cocky grin. As beautiful of a face she had, it still could not cover up the boyish mess on her head.

 

 

But all things considered, she was a woman and a lovely one at that, especially when she grew more hair. Until then what was a man to do. To snag her before would be most befitting bearing in mind that she would one day have men falling at her feet.

 

 

Though it was something babyish about her, maybe innocent. Maybe shear innocence. The kind that was held out for the perfect man. She didn't look too much like the party type, whore type, the type that Tenrai at times found to be most appealing. Those where the ones not to shy about what they wanted and not too ashamed to get it.

 

 

Over a nice drink of sake, Tenrai's thoughts wondered while wonderment shown in his eyes. "And what do they call you?" He smiled a most winning show of teeth kneeling before her. All things considered she had potential, not to mention even with that awkward hairdo, she was beautiful.

 

 

"Mi...Miyabi," she spoke her voice close to a whisper. She was flustered and she could not understand why, until he smiled at her again and spoke.

 

 

"Well, Miyabi." The knee of his yukata soaking in the dampness of night grasses, while the breeze warned him of his bare chest. "Shall we get you home?" He stated turning. With a mellow frown he began tugging on the fabric that hung carelessly around his waist, wondering what questions she had in her head about his performance.

 

 

She nodded, not removing her saucer like eyes from him though he was more concerned with his yukata. His body was lean, she noticed with muscles that had been trained in some sort of exercise. Through a redden face, she continued to gaze unknowingly at him in complete and utter fascination

 

 

"Miyabi-san?" he questioned still fidgeting with the cloth about his waist. Her silence bothered him and he thought that maybe she was in shock from her attack. So once his clothing was in place he lifted his eyes to see her, surprised to find her face quite so red. "Are you sick?" His first thought coming to his mouth instead of his mind.

 

 

Ashamed, she dropped her eyes, shaking the pictures of him from her thoughts. "No, I am sorry," the words racing from her mouth in a gush of air.

 

 

Tenrai's teeth gleamed in the moonlight when he smiled. He recognized that look. The look of a woman in heat or at least what he thought was heat. Just how young was she, he wondered noticing the unawareness she displayed as she tightened her grip on the material of her kimono.

 

 

"How old are you, Miyabi?" he inquired.

 

 

After all it was late, in his head he grinned from ear to ear and further on. A man and a young woman in the forest alone. They could keep each other warm. A hero just saved the damsel in distress. Was he not due what was fair?

 

 

"Seventeen," she replied with a daze that only a child held.

 

 

Seventeen, not to young, but not necessarily mature enough for him either. Oh well, Tenrai shrugged openly, gaining a raised brow from Miyabi. Sex was out of question, but...

 

 

Without a word, he offered a friendly hand to help her lift from her from the moist ground and like a lady she took it raising in a most ladylike pose similar to the way Tenrai's had seen many a lady do. Never slack in his observations he took notice of that and other assets as his hand moved quicker than the eye, making Miyabi leap straight into standing position.

 

 

She had never been groped before and never thought of it, but the easy movements on her rear was everything out of the ordinary. More so of an instinct than a volunteered action she jerked from his quick enough to land back on her knees on the damp ground. Once she had gathered enough reserve to turn around, she glowered at him with the fierce eye of a mother.

 

 

To be honest, upon first sight of her expression, Tenrai was terrified. He saw something in her that bothered him. She reminded him of his own mother and the induced memory was not what he need after his quick grope. He blinked staving off the similarities and looked again, seeing that same little girl that had stared up at him with so much admiration.

 

 

A sigh of relief escaped his throat. He could feel the muscles in his back relax and was shock for a moment at his reaction.

 

 

Miyabi frowned turning from him vowing to get to her feet on her own, lest another groping from the man, who's heroic image was faltering right in front of her eyes. Before he could say another word she lifted her kimono enough to ease the tread through the dewy ground.

 

 

Tenrai stood watching after her. He knew that a woman should never walk the forest alone this time of night, but at the moment he was afraid that she would turn and look at him with those same eyes.

 

 

Still, she was a girl and…

 

 

Groaning, agitated by his own consciousness as it continued to regard the helpless girl walking the path before him, he watched her trip on nothing particular and felt worst.

 

 

"Oi, wait," his told her picking up his feet in a light jog to catch her before she went any further.

 

 

She did not turn around and did not stop. The thought of another man laying hands on her...most vital parts was unthinkable, even if she was marrying a man she had nothing for, she still would not violate herself. She had morals, damn it.

 

 

"Beg your pardon," he excused himself. "It was a slip of the finger," he lied and if he had the opportunity he would do it again to some other unsuspecting woman. One that would except his proposal. One that was not so immature.

 

 

Miyabi stopped at that. It could be the truth that she never considered. She was not for certain after all, but if it happened again she never that it was something more. She straighten herself, standing like that lady she was suppose to be and even though he had a head over her she still lifted her head to look down upon him. "I suppose that is sufficient."

 

 

Tenrai stood his ground, a little insulted by her reaction and immediately knew she was some type of status. "Miyabi, ma-"

 

 

"It is Lady Miyabi," she corrected turning away from him with a childish pout that was meant to imitate him. It did not.

 

 

Spoiled brat, was the first thought that came to his mind, but he was a monk and in good sense she would not last the short way back to the village, not if another demon lurked closed by.

 

 

"Lady Miyabi," he wanted to laugh at the child, but only grinned as he gave a polite bow of recognition, not to infuriate her more. "I shall escort you to the nearby village."

 

 

Miyabi eyed him a moment taking in his head over her. He almost seemed to tower over her and she did not necessarily like that. She preferred him to be only eye length and yet, she knew he would look strange. With a calculated looked in her eye, she accepted with a slight nod so posed her did not move an inch.

 

 

Tenrai turned from her facing the path that they were to take. His steps were slow in line with hers and he wondered if that to was improper from the look that she was giving him. Her brow raised to the middle of her forehead and a question forming on her lips, but not a word.

 

 

“What is it?” he decided to ask breaking her glance.

 

 

He noticed the sudden nervousness that she failed at hiding. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she asked, “what are you doing out this late?”

 

 

In a quick search through his mind, Tenrai spoke the first thing to come. “I merely needed a breath of fresh air.” It was the truth.

 

 

“Hum.” Though it made perfect sense, Miyabi still found herself wanting a better answer and thought to ask for one when he turned to her, a puzzled look on his face.

 

 

“What brings you here?” His inquire caught her off guard and she was suddenly ashamed of herself. How was she to tell him that she had been following him.

 

 

“Minding my own business,” she spoke to quickly and to tense for it to be true. Focusing on the path ahead she refuse to look him in the eye for fear he had picked up on her lie.

 

 

“Huh,” he smiled once again and Miyabi out of the corner of her eye found it enduring. In return she smiled turning towards him with more of her inspiring questions.

 

 

“And why is you hair so long for a monk? Most of them are bald or with very short hair.”

 

 

Taking in a much needed breath, he was regretful that he had gotten her started. “My hair is fine. I chose to wear it this way,” he frowned gripping the tip of his braid that hung down to his mid-back, swinging it across his shoulder. He never thought anything of it, though she did have a point. Even Mushin was bald. Memories of his gleaming scalp in the sun brought a smile to Tenrai's face. “Besides it's rather cold in the winter.”

 

 

She was definitely unexposed. She probably had not been outside of her village without some type of guard and he doubted that she had seen much.

 

 

Continuing their route toward the village, Miyabi's next question was expected and made him most uneasy.

 

 

“What is that wind you use back there?”

 

 

Tenrai winced, noticed by Miyabi. With clenched fist, he gritted his teeth forcing a state of calmness upon himself.

 

 

“I'm sorry,” she took back her words. “I did not mean to pry.” Nervously Miyabi slowed her steps to stay a good distance away from the man, for her own safety. She knew nothing of his temperament. Who's to say that he was not like her father?

 

 

“No, it is all right,” Tenrai forced out pasting a bright smile across his lips nothing. He turned to her assuring her that all was okay. “I am sure that any logical person would question such a thing.”

 

 

As if in answering, a soft breeze whipped through Miyabi's kimono. So relieved by the radiance of his smile, she failed to notice the commotion over neither the hill or the lanterns lighting the thick darkness throughout the forest.

 

 

“Miyabi!” The voice came as a surprise making both of them jump out of their skin. It was so bold and direct that it seemed the trees were standing on end.

 

 

Miyabi stopped in her tracks before directing her attentions to the owner. She knew before she looked and her heart nearly stopped. He was angry and nothing she could say could make up for her disappearance.

 

 

Unlike the young woman, Tenrai laughed in his mind. How foolish for him to be scared by the callings of a human and stand face to face with a monstrous demon without a hint of doubt in his heart. Turning from her, he came face to face with the cold wet nose of a brilliant steed. It let out a loud wet sneeze, showering him with small droplets mucus. A frown of disgust crossed his face as he took a step back dragging his hand over his face wiping away the tiny drops. Resentfully, he eyed his assailant.

 

 

Tanaka. Boots, shiny black and cover in a yukata of pure silk. He looked as if he had jumped straight from bed and on to the back of his stallion. His face lifted from the shadow of the lantern that he held in his hand. Uncovering bloodshot eyes and a heavy overworked scowl, he stared at Miyabi in revulsion.

 

 

“Father,” Miyabi gasped. She could feel the pit of her stomach turning and she had to force down the bile in her throat.

 

 

“Lord Tanaka,” Tenrai's voice remain as calm as he bowed to the lord, continuing to show his respect, despite the undeniable glower on his face.

 

 

However to Tanaka, his daughter stood before him, her kimono mangled and filth in shambles, and then there was this unknown man. His own kimono wrinkled with small tatters around the collar. In his mind Tanaka could picture the passion behind the two young lovers. Miyabi ripping his kimono as she grasp and pulled trying to free him of the confiding clothes and Tenrai tugging on her own as he pushed her into the mud.

 

 

How dare he sully Tanaka's only chance at the true fame he wanted? What would the Lord Yamato think if he found his prize inadequate, a slutty whore? Romping in the woods with this perverted monk.

 

 

“How dare you?” His words were embittered with hate. It brought tears to Miyabi's eyes, but she refused to let them fall in the public eye. Guiding the brown horse closer to Miyabi, he leaned over just enough to grip the shoulder of her kimono. With a violent edge and a dangerous temper, he entangled his hands his the fabric and lift her so quickly that she had no time to react. Even the pain of the pulling material under her arm did not register as she was to stunned.

 

 

Easily, he threw her body across the front saddle of his horse and pressed down with the right hand, turning the horse and him away from the confounded monk.

 

 

Tenrai was almost to appalled to speak, but quick thinking and a sharp mind would not allow him to remain quite. “I assure you my lord, my hands did not grace your daughter.”

 

 

He doubted that. He had heard the rumors of the corrupt ways of monks and now he believed them. Without so much as a glance back at the young man, he spat out, “I want you out of my home.”