By late afternoon, the road began to follow the shore of a vast lake.
Nathan slowed his horse.
For much of the day, he had traveled past narrow waterways, flooded fields, and villages built close to the banks. Here, the land opened, giving him his first clear view of the country beyond.
Water stretched toward distant blue hills.
Fishing boats dotted its surface, their sails pale beneath the lowering sun. Farther out, a line of larger vessels moved toward the city ahead, carrying cargo beneath tightly fastened covers.
Watatsumi.
Nathan could see why the lake country bore its name.
Even the road seemed reluctant to leave the water. It curved along the shoreline beneath old willows, passing stone steps where villagers knelt to wash vegetables and fishermen mended their nets.
The air smelled of damp reeds, woodsmoke, and fish cooking somewhere nearby.
After the noise of the capital, the place felt almost peaceful.
At the next bend, he passed a roadside watchtower.
