The Peachwood Flute

By Brook and Julia West

Fantasy short story set in medieval Japan. Noriaki is a ronin--a masterless samurai--and his flute-playing days are behind him. But when he and his companions wander into a cursed village, his forgotten skills may be the only thing that can save them.

Originally published in The Shimmering Door, edited by Katharine Kerr and Martin H. Greenberg, HarperPrism, August 1996.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Callihoo Publishing
• Release date: Sep 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465703743

Brook and Julia West

Brook and Julia West are a husband-and-wife team who write science fiction and fantasy, both in collaboration and individually. Brook has a degree in physical geography and loves to build worlds; Julia's degree is in anthropology and she is fascinated by the way people and their cultures work. Brook is fascinated with anything Japanese (he reads, writes, and speaks the language), and Julia spent her first three years of college studying botany and has studied medicinal (and other) uses of plants in many cultures.

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The Peachwood Flute

Brook and Julia West

Published by Callihoo Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Brook and Julia West

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Cover design by Danica B. West

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Two weeks without rain had turned the Takeda road to dust that puffed up at every step and clung to the folds of Mitaka Noriaki's patched and shabby clothing. Ricefields shimmered bright green in the heat, and the shrill buzzing of cicadas so filled the air that Noriaki could not have said when the flute-player joined them. The music gradually emerged from the background drone until first Noriaki, then the other travelers, glanced back to see the gray-clad musician striding along behind them, face shadowed by a reed hat.

The flute music added to Noriaki's annoyance—awakening longing and bitter memories, reminding him why he was now ronin, a masterless samurai. Once he, too, had played the flute.

The others seemed to enjoy it; Taro the laborer's pregnant wife, Kiku, turned again to smile at the flute-player and Taro, carrying bundles hung from a shoulder-pole, nodded his head in time with the music.

Rikichi, the gambler who had hired Noriaki to guard him on the road, mimed a flute of his own—much to the amusement of his friend, Saburo.

Curling his hands into fists, Noriaki suppressed the urge to shout Begone! at the flute-player.

Make way! Make way! came from behind. Noriaki stepped aside and his fellow travelers scattered to the roadside. The flute-player drifted after them, never missing a note or even seeming to notice the two bearers and their jolting kago palanquin. Noriaki almost smiled at the passenger's grimace.

The travelers returned to the road. Must be an important samurai, said Saburo.

Too important for comfort, snickered Rikichi. The state of his backside showed on his face.

Noriaki fell in behind Taro and, to control his annoyance, concentrated on the bamboo-patterned cloth wrapping Taro's bundles. He found