The Initiate Brother Duology (124 page)

Tadamoto waved toward the door again, glaring at the merchant as he did so.

Tanaka turned and took a step but stopped. “There is more at stake than the honor of Colonel Jaku Tadamoto. Will you sacrifice the Empire for that?”

“Guard!” Tadamoto called and the door burst open immediately. “Take this man to his quarters, by force if necessary.”

The guard bowed, but Tanaka proceeded out the door without further resistance, casting a final glance over his shoulder and though the look on the merchant’s face was truly unreadable, Tadamoto felt it was an accusation.

The door closed and Tadamoto was alone. He found himself staring down at the gii board, the pieces in disarray. For a moment he could not find the
guard commander
Tanaka had sacrificed, and this was disturbing. Then he saw
it and replaced it carefully on the gii board, as superstitious as any soldier on the eve of a battle.

Tadamoto slumped down on a cushion and stared at nothing. How long he sat like that he did not know, but he was eventually interrupted by a tap on the door.

“Enter,” he called.

The face of an Imperial Guard appeared. “A message, Colonel, from the Emperor.”

Tadamoto nodded and the guard entered, setting a small stand bearing a letter within his commander’s reach. Waiting until the guard had closed the door behind him, Tadamoto picked up the letter, barely glancing at the seal as he broke it. He unfolded the pale yellow paper and found the clear hand of the Emperor’s principal secretary. A single vertical line of characters:

Tadamoto tried to read the message again to be sure he had not made a mistake, but his eyes would not focus.
Shonto would surrender? Shonto would allow his House to come to an end in an attempt to save the Empire?

Tadamoto set the paper back on the stand, staring at it dumbly. He felt no joy at this news, he realized. In truth, he felt deep sadness.

*   *   *

Nishima paced back and forth across the small room in her tent, unable to maintain even a facade of patience or inner peace. After her conversation with Kitsura, she had sent servants to find Brother Shuyun, reasoning that a meeting with her family’s Spiritual Advisor under the present circumstances would be completely natural.

A lamp flickered on a low table where Nishima had tried to write earlier—tried to create some order out of the turmoil she felt within. It had been an unsuccessful attempt. She could not find words that even approximated what she felt.

“Excuse me, Lady Nishima,” her servant’s voice came from close outside the tent.

“Please enter,” she answered quickly, her heart lifting.

A maid pulled back the flap of the door. She bore a tray.

“Excuse me, my lady. An Imperial Guard messenger brought these.” She
nodded down at letters, bound together by a silk cord, lying on the silver tray.

“Please,” Nishima waved at the table and the servant placed the tray there, bowing as she left. Nishima was struck by how drawn and pale the woman’s face was. Her future is as uncertain as anyone’s, the aristocrat thought.

Kneeling by the table she unknotted the cord, careful to choose the letter intended to be read first. Unfolding the crisp paper revealed a blade of spring grain and Jaku Katta’s indifferent hand struggling down the page. Her view, she realized, had changed, for she had once convinced herself that the general’s brushwork had qualities that could be admired—as she had once felt about the general himself.

“He is impossible,” Nishima whispered. Jaku cannot accept that a mere woman can resist his efforts. She tossed the letter onto the table and found that the second letter was sealed with the Jaku family symbol and beside this a line of characters read:

She was appalled. It is his death poem, she realized, and he has sent it to
me.
Presumptuous fool! On the verge of calling for a servant to have the letter returned, Nishima realized that Jaku might indeed die the next day. He was apparently estranged from his brother—who would he leave his final words to?

It is a small thing, she told herself. In all likelihood the guardsman will survive—it will be a cuckolded husband who brings about the Black Tiger’s end—and then I will have the poem returned without comment.

She put the two poems into her sleeve and sat watching the lamp flame
flicker. From beyond the thin wall of her tent the sound of a soldier’s flute rose up, as light and uncertain as the flight of a butterfly. Listening not as a musician but with her heart, Nishima found the music very beautiful, evoking an image of a fragile, solitary spirit.

A rustling of the tent fabric and a soft voice. “Lady Nishima? Please excuse my intrusion.”

It was Shuyun. She rose quickly to her feet and crossed toward the opening.

“Ah. My servants found you, Brother,” she said quietly. “Please enter.”

Shuyun slipped in through the opening. “I met no servants, Lady Nishima,” he said.

He has come of his own will, Nishima thought, and this gladdened her heart. She reached out and took his hand, drawing him into the room.

“You cannot address me as Lady Nishima here, Shuyun-sum, it is not permissible.” She smiled and received a smile in return.

“You sit alone, Nishima-sum. I am concerned.”

She shrugged, lowering herself to a cushion. “How can one sleep? Tomorrow the world I know will change utterly. Many, many will die, perhaps some that are close to me. I feel separated from my emotions in the face of this.” Nishima reached over and turned down the flame on the lamp. “When my mother died, I remember feeling much like this, as though the shock of what had occurred rendered me incapable of feeling for some time. I remember doing all the things that were required of me, appearing very controlled to everyone, but inside…Botahara save me.

“It was more than just the loss of my mother. A time was over suddenly and I felt that I had never given it the attention required to properly appreciate it. Everything had changed. It was as though I had been traveling in a safe canal and suddenly found myself at sea—a sea of uncertainty. I had never truly appreciated the canal and it was past.”

She looked up, searching for understanding and felt the monk’s warm hand squeeze her own. She smoothed a crease in her robe. “I look back at my recent journeys on the canal and think that I understand things that seemed impossible to untangle before. I realize, now, that Jaku Katta is truly the tiger, driven by instincts he can neither understand nor control, and Lord Komawara, whom I thought impossibly parochial, is thoughtful and noble and quietly very brave. Kitsura-sum and I are often spoiled and compete with each other just as we did when we were children, and my uncle is
working tirelessly to preserve an Empire that the Shonto have shaped longer than any Imperial dynasty.” She caught the monk’s eye again. “And you, my friend…are out of place in this world, in the House of a great lord. Yet I sense that you are not at peace within your own Order either. Where is your place, Shuyun-sum? You…you look so troubled.”

He shook his head. “I have been in a council. Lord Shonto did not want to wake you immediately.” Shuyun took a controlled breath. “I’m sure he would rather speak to you himself, but…Lord Shonto has agreed to surrender his army to the Emperor. We will join the refugees fleeing to Yankura in a few hours.”

Nishima pressed her forehead with her hand, remaining like that for some time. Then she moved forward until she pressed her cheek against Shuyun’s neck and he held her.

“What will become of us,” Nishima whispered. “Whatever will become of us?”

A
LL PREPARATIONS WERE made in the dark or the dim light of covered lamps. It was crucial that the barbarians saw nothing untoward or they might react in ways no one could predict. Nishima heard more than saw her tent come down in the dark. She was standing in the midst of total chaos, Kitsura clinging to her arm as though she feared Nishima would evaporate into the darkness at any second.

The two women were dressed in men’s hunting costumes, the better for riding, and perhaps the thought of this unsettled Lady Kitsura even more—she had less experience with horses than her cousin.

Although she had spoken a few words with her uncle, the meeting had not been private and Nishima still did not know the reason for Shonto’s sudden decision to surrender his army to the Emperor. Some part of her wanted to believe it was a ruse of the gii master, an apparent sacrifice that opened the gate of an elaborate trap.

Yankura was the destination everyone mentioned or the Islands of Konojii, but Shonto had said neither to her, so she was uncertain of their direction.

The great lord met with his advisors now, planning the move of the army to the Emperor’s position. The Emperor was expecting the surrender of the Shonto along with the army but this was not to be so. All of those the Emperor named in his scroll would flee with the Shonto; Jaku Katta, Lord Komawara, and all of the Shonto family retainers and senior advisors. The oaths of the Shonto House Guard would never allow them to join the Yamaku.
It would not be a small party able to move quickly, and this concerned Nishima.

“There is a hint of gray in the east, cousin,” Kitsura said, her voice curiously high-pitched. “Should we not be on our way?”

Turning to the east, Nishima could see no signs of light. “We have time yet, Kitsu-sum. Be patient.”

Servants bustled about, sorting clothing and other goods, packing trunks and bags. Much would be left behind, Nishima realized, but this did not seem important. She was concerned for her staff, and this thought brought an image of Shimeko to her mind. Where had she disappeared to, Nishima wondered? Such a troubled soul but someone Nishima had developed an affection for. I should never have allowed her aboard that infernal ship, Nishima thought.

Her last memory of the plague ship was of it passing along a side canal toward a Botanist monastery. The land there was so flat it seemed to be setting out across the fields, sails full and drawing, the terrifying green banner waving against the blue sky.

“May Botahara protect her,” Nishima whispered.

“Cousin?”

“I am reduced to mumbling. Please excuse me.”

She felt Kitsura’s grip tighten on her arm for a moment in reassurance.

*   *   *

Lord Taiki rode toward the two torches, their copper light reflecting dully off black lacquered armor in the darkness and fog. Clearing his throat so that his presence would be known, Taiki whispered to a guard. “Give the signal.”

A lamp opened quickly, three times, and a torch dipped once in reply, leaving an arc of flame hanging in the air for the briefest instant.

They continued forward. Shapes took form in the fog-riders in black.

“Colonel Jaku? I am the emissary of Lord Shonto Motoru.” Taiki spoke quietly.

“Come forward, Lord Taiki.”

A pace apart Taiki stopped and looked at the young man illuminated in the torch light. He wore an unadorned helmet and his face-mask hung open revealing a fine-boned silhouette. The green eyes could not be seen and Taiki was surprised that he would think of this.

“I have orders to conduct Lord Shonto through the lines into the presence of the Emperor, Lord Taiki.”

Taiki took a long breath. “Lord Shonto slipped away with his family and senior advisors, Colonel Jaku.”

Silence.

Taiki saw Tadamoto reach out and take a plait of his horse’s mane into his gloved hand. “And my brother, Katta?”

“He has disappeared also along with Lord Komawara.”

“I see. My Emperor’s instructions were very clear: if I sense treachery, I am to cut you down and retreat.”

Taiki controlled his urge to rest a hand on his sword hilt. “There is no treachery, Colonel. Lord Shonto warned the Emperor of this invasion months ago. He has done everything within his power to prepare the Empire for this war. Lord Shonto was ignored. He has now given up his army for the defense of the Empire. Do you expect him to forfeit his life as well?” Taiki realized he had raised his voice and forced his next words in the most reasonable tones. “There is no treachery, Colonel Jaku. Only a desire to save Wa. I am prepared to move our force, retreat or attack or prepare for battle as we are. I will surrender command to whomever you appoint. Do not fear, Colonel Jaku, we will not risk a war between our own army and the forces of the Emperor with a barbarian army standing ready. I await your instructions.”

The sounds of clattering armor and horses stamping and calling out to each other carried across the empty field. The barbarians were stirring.

“Bring your men in an organized file down the southwest slope of your hill and form them into ranks behind the position of the Imperial Army. This must be done quickly, Lord Taiki, it is our intention to retreat under cover of morning fog. We must move south. This position is not favorable.”