Thousand Shrine Warrior (20 page)

Echiko hissed at him to stop. Her eyes were almost white. She circled the room, lingered momentarily at the doorway beyond which lay the sleeping, injured handmaiden. Sanity brushed the lady's complexion and there was clearly affection between Echiko and her servants. She was guileless where they were concerned; she had no recollection of the incident on the edge of the wall.

Then she continued to circle the room, a haunting and uncomfortable sight, and collapsed to her knees beside the nun, to whom she spoke imploringly: “You came to save Otane because you pity her and her lover? I'm grateful to you! I didn't know about it, please believe me!” Echiko bowed to the nun, acting like her servitor. It was difficult for the bikuni to maintain her angry and arrogant pose in view of the anguish of the princess; but the nun managed to appear impassive.

“My father will write out a warrant for their release at once!” said Echiko, raising her head abruptly. She looked sharply at her clownish father, who tried to act wise and upright in her presence. She said to him, “Isn't it so?”

“Get me brush and paper!” he demanded of his left-hand bodyguard, but someone else went for it instead. Soon he was writing out the warrant of release. His arm moved with the flourishing strokes and he fixed upon his visage a look of supremely humane feeling. Then he spoiled his own theatrics by glaring peevishly at his bodyguards, as though hating that they might peek at his calligraphy and pass judgment on it.

As the warrant was being folded, sealed, and Lord Sato's signature placed hugely on the outside, the bikuni sat without noticeable emotion, scarcely breathing. Echiko was panting and could not raise herself off her hands and knees; her head was practically in the bikuni's lap.

In a voice so low that no one else could hear, the bikuni said, “Heinosuke is well. Take care of yourself for him.” Princess Echiko's shoulders stiffened, then relaxed. Without looking up, she asked even more quietly, “Is he not blinded after all?” The question startled the nun, though she did not reveal any feeling. “He sees fine,” she answered, which was surely true, as she had seen him with books and lists of names. The bikuni wished she could talk to Echiko privately; but perhaps it was better that she left the princess with the illusion that the nun knew more about him.

The nun did not dare say more, or ask. It was best to remain absolutely still until things were worked out between these mad people. Two of Echiko's ladies-in-waiting had been at the doorway to the hall and hurried forward to help her stand while the prisoner release-warrant was placed, by a servant, into the hand of the nun.

One of the handmaidens was head of castle women. She did not appear ambitious, preferring to stay close to her lady's side; but she was in fact in a position of power within the castle hierarchy. She quietly commanded the physician to leave and solicited the help of several servants to lift the sleeping patient and take her away to the women's quarters, where handmaidens would care for her tenderly.

Echiko was also led away. She was barely out of sight when the nun heard an unexpected gasp from Lord Sato's sickly daughter. Then a sweet but masculine voice said, “Princess, you should be resting. I will come to you later tonight to recite the Lotus Sutra.” Lady Echiko choked on a stifled comment, then gave a sigh of resignation as she was led through the halls.

In the next moment, Kuro the Darkness stepped into the meeting-chamber.

Had she expected the priest to have a monstrous appearance? She should have known otherwise; for those who knew him were swayed to his will, while those who had never set eyes upon him thought his influence hellish.

Kuro the Darkness did not shave his head like most priests. His hair was long and hung loose, cascading over his shoulders in the manner common among certain of the esoteric orders, of which he was presumedly
not
a member. He wore a black gossamer priest's robe with excessively long sleeves over a white under-kimono, the hem of which hung lower than the black robe. A tubular obi was oddly woven about his waist, almost braided rather than wrapped. Long-fingered hands touched one another at the front of his belt.

He was slender and the very epitome of holy grace. His demeanor was at once proud and humble. And there was something about his attractiveness that the nun could not help but remark, for his pretty face reminded her of a young uncle who had died in the wars of Heian-kyo, or perhaps it was a girl cousin she had been fond of as a child. In fact, if she dared think about it, he looked a bit like herself. Kuro the Darkness might well be mistaken for her twin brother, though not quite an identical twin. At the very least, she could not deny, upon seeing him, that he must be a man of Heida, her own home province; a kinsman, as Ittosai had informed.

He stood inside the doorway, his most pleasant face almost shining; and the nun was infatuated by the look of him, narcistically so; and she was impressed by the apparent sincerity of his gentle bearing. How could anyone have judged him evil?

She strove to shake off the glamour of the long-haired priest, lank and lovely as a temple page. His gaze settled upon her comfortably. She sat motionless upon her knees in the center of the room, aware of his awareness of her ability to turn aside his magnetism. For a moment, she saw through his disguise, or he had revealed himself to her alone. Something sinister glinted greenly from his eyes. There was nothing in the room of that color, so it could not be dismissed as a chance reflection.

The flames of the room's lanterns grew wan. At the same time, the sinister gleam passed from Priest Kuro's eyes; and the nun felt Kuro's beauty wash over her more strongly than before, trying for her soul, gently, experimentally, not at all insistently. Totally on guard, she refused to be affected. She focused on one realization: that the spiritual coldness and gloom throughout Kanno province and especially within Sato Castle was the result of Kuro's ability to absorb all that was warm and uplifting, draw it into himself so that he alone, among all things, shone with hope and beauty against the backdrop of a cruel and relentless world.

But the actions he somehow inspired were not as saintly as his aura. He motioned with one frail, lovely hand—by no means a menacing signal, but several of Lord Sato's vassals drew steel and surrounded the bikuni; it was surely not coincidence or the idle fancy of unreliable vassals.

She rose to a squatting position, hand to hilt, but did not draw steel. She could escape the circle of men, killing all of them, she was certain of that. It was exactly Kuro's plan. Her eyes met his, and she said, “I will not kill them for you.” No one in the room quite heard what she had said, except for the priest she had addressed; and he replied with sweet simplicity:

“You will.”

And none heard his words either. The men pressed nearer, the points of their swords closing in. The nun slowly moved her hand away from her sword and got back upon her knees. She did not try to speak to Lord Sato, who smiled fawningly at the priest and clearly had no control over his own life or the actions of his vassals. She turned instead to Chamberlain Norifune and said, “You would have your men attack me when I have made no threat?”

Norifune stammered, not knowing why the vassals acted as they did.

“Your lord has given me this warrant,” said the nun, “and I wish only to take it swiftly where it will save those two people.”

Norifune did not want to see anything untoward about events, forever trying to view things in a commonplace light, despite that they could not reasonably be fitted to normalcy or routine. He looked at the vassals who were poised to slay; and he said, “Back away, men! Do not treat her like that!” Their swords wavered as though they did not know what to do. In a few moments, they slid their feet backward along the tatami mat. The nun breathed more freely. She said to Norifune,

“You seem less influenced by this priest than the others, no doubt because you were more corrupt to begin with; it makes you immune to further corruption, though by taking the least precautions, you have come under his sway. Tell me, or consider: Was Lord Sato possessed of his wits until Priest Kuro came? I've heard he was once a functioning lord. Have you tried to benefit from his weakness? Have you refused to see its cause?”

Kuro walked across the room and sat on the edge of the stage, near his patron, who continued to gaze lovingly at the gorgeous priest, oblivious to movements and conversations in the room. Priest Kuro made no effort to stop the nun from telling Norifune her feelings and suspicions. Indeed, the priest appeared amused by the nun's efforts.

“This priest is not merely what he appears,” she said. “For reasons I have not uncovered, he plots the deaths of several Kanno families, to the last child. It is widely rumored that he is not even truly human, but I will not venture things so far. The families endangered are in one way or another connected to this castle; perhaps your own family is among the seven, and your own safety uncertain. Heinosuke of Omi must have solved the mystery. But no one would hear him and he was banished.”

Chamberlain Norifune looked left and right, seeking some escape from the bikuni's harsh ideas. He stopped chewing on his moist upper lip and tried to sound annoyed as he exclaimed, “Nonsense! Heinosuke went mad and attacked Kuro without cause! He ran off to avoid the consequence!” His tone fell quickly from a pretense of anger to a pleading whine as he continued, “You have the warrant you sought. Why sit there and slander a pious servant like Kuro the Darkness?”

“Listen to what you call him,” said the nun.

Norifune waved a hand and said, “It is only a title of ironic endearment! As you can see, there is nothing dark about him. Everyone counts on Kuro's sage advice.”

“You will not see how he has affected this castle? Look at him there! How upright he appears! He is amused by the numbness of your thinking!”

“What do you expect him to do? Slap your face for lying?” Norifune was quick to the defense of the priest and himself. He said, “He is always passive as you see him. Why don't you leave the castle at once? Don't overstay!”

It was a bold thing to say to a vassal of the Emperor-in-Retirement; but Norifune was at wit's end. The nun began to stand as she replied,

“I would be pleased to go.”

Priest Kuro waved a dainty hand before his nose, as though to swat aside some odor. Lord Sato's vassals blocked the bikuni's way.

“Don't do that!” said Norifune to his men. At that moment, Lord Sato took some notice of affairs and shouted, “
Iye-iye!
Don't let her go just now! We were going to have a game of chess!”

Norifune made fists of frustration, clutching and wrinkling his fine costume, looking at Lord Sato with pained expression, clearly blaming Sato's madness for every strange proceeding. “Priest Kuro,” said Norifune. “Can't we let her go?”

“Who rules this castle?” the bikuni interrupted. “Who rules Kanno? That mad lord? You, a ridiculous chamberlain? Why ask a priest if I can go, when you have already commanded it!”

“Iye-iye!”
Lord Sato reiterated.

“It is my liege who gainsaid my suggestion,” said Norifune, still unwilling to see the obvious.

“Believe me,” the nun whispered harshly, turning a final time to the chamberlain. “I am as much stressed as yourself, or I would be more deferent even in a madhouse such as this. Priest Kuro acts passive, for he thinks he has a strong weapon and needs only to influence others. He wants to use me against all of you. See how his face resembles mine? His one personal vassal, whose name is Ittosai, has informed me that Priest Kuro is a relative of mine, I hope only a distant cousin. For this reason he seems to count on me as a partner in some mission of
kataki-uchi
, a revenge-seeking of enormous consequence. I am not a willing cohort. But if I draw my Sword of Okio in defense of myself, this room will turn to crimson. It will not be my blood or Priest Kuro's that paints the walls and floors.”

Lord Sato said, “That saké is nice and warm! Let's all drink together!”

He was as witless as Otane's deficient brother; but the bikuni had a glimpse of intellect locked behind those eyes. What a nightmare it must be, turned into a fool, knowing in some shadowed corner of the mind that everything you say is stupid.

“Please stay a few moments longer,” said Norifune, relenting to Lord Sato's desire. “My liege wishes all of us to share a bit of wine.”

Servants were scurrying about preparing drinks. The nun refused to sit. Priest Kuro stood also, stood from where he had been sitting on the edge of Sato's stage. He raised his arms, the long black sleeves hanging down, and he seemed about to pirouette; but he held the odd pose for a long time, while the light in the room began to fade without apparent cause. Kuro was drawing power to himself again, with the result that everything around him became paler and sadder.

The nun moved her hand toward her sword's hilt, planning a lunge in the direction of the priest. But the room had grown so dark that she was momentarily unable to see a thing. The lanterns still glowed in their places, but the light penetrated nowhere.

Then Kuro reappeared, more appealing and beatific than ever, an angelic presence adrift in the darkness that had filled the room. She tried to draw her sword, but it was stuck in its sheath. Kuro the Darkness spoke gently, sadly, and the nun was tempted to believe that his sorrow, if nothing else, was authentic. He said, “Every step a human takes is mistaken. There is no road. There is no Way. The bigger the step, the greater the mistake.”

The words were for the nun. No one else had heard. The bikuni heard Lord Sato's voice somewhere in the dark. He said, “This is good saké! Won't you have some? Please, one cup before you leave.”

Try as she might, she could not draw the blade. Apparently Lord Sato could see her clearly; or, more likely, she alone was exempt from some alternate perception woven for the others. A page stepped out of darkness, carrying a huge, shallow bowl of steaming liquor.