L5r - scroll 05 - The Crab (11 page)

The Great Bear rose without further preamble and strode through the silken entryway. Chiya could hear his feet stomping menacingly toward the command tent.

"Yori! Bring my sons to me!" The order was as clear as if the daimyo was still in the courtyard.

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"You're sending Sukune! Why must I go, too?" Yakamo would never question his father's orders in front of other soldiers. But the command tent was empty except for Kisada, Yakamo, Sukune, and Yori, so he spoke his mind.

"Because one day you will have to go to court to represent the Crab." Kisada understood how his son felt, so he chose to explain his order. "When you become daimyo you will not always have the luxury of sending a representative, even one as noble as your brother."

"Bah!" Yakamo wanted to spit on the ground, but he knew that his father would brook no more dissention. "You sent us both last time."

"And as I recall," Sukune chimed in, "you antagonized the Dragon Clan representative and spat on the imperial floor."

Yakamo growled at his brother. It was a feral sound from deep in his throat.

"I have made my decision!" Kisada barked. "You will ride out of camp at sunset."

The three others looked at the daimyo confusedly.

"Why wait so long, my lord?" asked Kuni Yori.

"We can be ready to go before the sun reaches its peak. Why lose so many hours?" Yakamo asked.

"It is a message I am sending back with the runner." Kisada actually smiled.

Sukune smiled too. "A message about power and how to wield it, if I am not mistaken."

"Hai!" the Great Bear laughed raucously. "Now go 'prepare* for your trip."

Yakamo and Sukune withdrew, each eyeing the other antagonistically. Kuni Yori lingered, watching the daimyo.

"Though they look so different, they
are
brothers—that is for certain!" Kisada shook his head.

"If I may be so bold," Yori said after an interval, "why are you sending your sons in your stead? The empress seems to have something very special planned. One would guess the other daimyo will come themselves. Do you not wish to take this opportunity to meet with your peers? You all gather so rarely these days."

Kisada frowned.

"I . . ." he began, then thought for a moment. "I have my reasons for not wanting to travel to the capital at this time."

Within the shadows of his black velvet hood Kuni Yori grinned. You do not wish to go to Otosan Uchi, he thought. You're afraid that if you even
see
the emperor or the Emerald Throne, you will be tempted to depose him. You have come so far, Kisada—and you've only a little farther to go.

"In that case, may I humbly offer to accompany your sons on this portentous journey?" Yori bowed formally as he spoke. "I understand your distrust of the empress. I personally would not put it out of her capability to call this meeting to ensorceU the daimyo in order to add to her own power. As counsel to your sons, my presence would be unobtrusive, and I could serve as a safeguard against magical influence."

The Great Bear thought about this and grumbled. "I do not like the emperor, and I do not trust the Lady Scorpion. But even I have trouble seeing this as a threat to my sons."

Yori approached Kisada. "I am certain," he whispered, "that Hantei the 38th said the same about Bayushi Shoju's final visit."

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"What a load of dung!" Yakamo threw his hands in the air.

"For ten days you've been blathering on about how playing the role of the 'proper guest' is a tactical decision that will help you win the war of politics!" He glared at Sukune. "And
nothing
you've said even begins to convince me that you're doing
anything
other than playing a stupid game. A game whose ridiculous, pompous, self-important rules were invented by imperial courtiers so that they are the only ones who can win!"

"It is a long-term strategy," said Sukune for about the twentieth time that day. "You do not want to win this 'game' quickly—the only way to do that is to follow the path of the Scorpion."

Kuni Yori rode between the two brothers but said nothing. In fact, with his hood pulled close over his painted face, neither Hida could tell whether he was paying the least attention.

"If you play the game for too long, your opponent has won," Yakamo said adamantly. "The minute you switch your tactics in hopes of gaining the approval of bureaucrats, you've lost any chance of making the changes you really want. If you want to reform the Imperial Court, you must tear it down. There
is
no way to rebuild it piecemeal."

"So you favor overthrowing the emperor?" Yori's voice startled the brothers.

"N-no," said Yakamo. "Not necessarily. I think that simply ignoring the Imperial Court is a much better solution. If they want their borders secure, they will not interfere with Crab decisions."

"But if they insist on regulating our comings and goings?" Yori played Yakamo the way a geisha played a shamisen—subtly but with great power.

"If they cannot see what is in their own best interest, they deserve whoever's wrath they incur." That was as close to sedition as the elder Hida was prepared to go.

They rode on in silence. It might well have lasted the rest of the day if not for the appearance on the horizon of Otosan Uchi. The capital city gleamed like a jewel at the seaside. Its broad walls stood proudly silhouetted against shimmering waves. In the midst of thousands of rooftops rose the Forbidden

City, a white citadel with a white waterfall. It was their destination, home of the emperor.

"One thing I can say for polite hospitality," muttered Yakamo, "is that the emperor will offer us food and drink no matter how much he wishes we would go away."

Sukune laughed.

"Still," the younger Hida said, "we'd do well not to arrive like ravenous vagabonds. We don't want the other clans to think we are incapable of feeding ourselves."

Yakamo grunted his agreement.

About an hour later they rode through the gates. Just beyond the entrance, a small city of tents and shacks beckoned to travelers, offering basic supplies, spiritual guidance, and food in abundance.

The trio rode up to a soba shop. A nice bowl of cold noodles would fill their bellies but allow them to get back on the road quickly.

"It has been a while since I saw your dueling form, Hida Yakamo," said a samurai-ko who sat in the shade, loudly slurping her noodles as they approached. It was Mirumoto Hitomi. "Why don't you climb down off that horse and finish what we began two years ago?"

To answer the challenge in any way would be unwise. If Yakamo refused, he would seem afraid to fight. If he agreed, he would have to fight a duel to the death. Yakamo looked at her with utter disdain but said nothing. He glanced meaningfully at his brother, as if to say: See? I can hold my tongue when the moment is right.

Yakamo dismounted and entered the shop without even looking in Hitomi's direction. Sukune and Yori followed him. Both made a point of watching the Dragon in case she planned some treachery. Inside, they each ordered a bowl of cold buckwheat noodles and sake, and then came back out to find a bench where they could sit in the shade, hopefully far from Hitomi. Thankfully, the samurai-ko was gone by the time they returned.

Soon the group was happily slurping their noodles and clearing the dust from their throats with delicious, if watered down,

sake. It was a fine meal on a hot afternoon.

"All fed and watered now, Crab?" Hitomi had returned, but this time she had brought a retinue of Dragon samurai with her.

"Mirumoto-san," said Sukune, "under normal circumstance my brother and I would be glad to invite you to join us and our counselor in a midafternoon tea ceremony to honor the fates for bringing us together again. However, we are bound for the Forbidden City on a most urgent matter, and we will have to take our leave of you immediately. I apologize."

The younger Hida proved again what a brilliant tactician he was. There were no flaws in his speech. Any further challenge or antagonism on Hitomi's part would reflect very badly 011 the Dragon Clan.

"I too am bound for the Forbidden City," said Hitomi, "and I say your brother can spare the time to indulge me in a duel to see if his skills outrank those of the Mirumoto School. Unless of course he would be willing to concede the point."

The other Dragon samurai's mouths dropped. The only ruder thing Hitomi could have done would be to draw her katana and attack the man. The look in her eyes spoke that very desire.

Yakamo looked coolly at the samurai-ko—the way he might look at a noisy dragonfly that disturbed the quiet of the afternoon. He stood, reminding everyone of just
how
much larger he was than the Dragon, used his tongue to pick some noodles from between his back teeth, and turned toward his horse.

"Come, Brother, we need to be on our way," Yakamo said lazily.

Kuni Yori spent the whole time standing behind Sukune. The opposing samurai would interpret this position as fearful. In truth the shugenja clutched his black silk, preparing to draw on its power should the Dragon retinue become more than verbally belligerent.

"You arrogant bastard!" Hitomi's fists were clenched, and her hair seemed to bristle. "Do you think that you can kill my brother and completely ignore the rest of the Mirumoto family? Do you have so little respect for the man you murdered that you deny me the right to revenge?"

Yakamo stopped. He slowly looked back over his shoulder.

"It is out of respect for your brother that I do not kill you as well, little Dragon," he said through clenched teeth. "Your behavior when last we dueled was scandalous enough that I am surprised you have the nerve to talk about
anyone's
cowardice. Attacking an ally is not a practice for an honorable samurai. I understand how overwhelming bloodlust can be. I was willing to forgive your transgression, given that you Dragons so rarely see
real
battles."

"Our battle never reached a resolution. Any
honorable
samurai would have sought me out when the siege was done. Or perhaps you are merely the same bullying coward as your father—willing to fight only when you know you can win."

Yakamo glared at her silently. When he finally spoke, his voice was as quiet and sharp as an assassin's blade. "Your grief is great, Hitomi, and I am willing to overlook your slights against me. But my patience is not endless, and I will not allow you to slander my daimyo."

Hitomi smiled. At last she'd found the right nerve to tug.

"Your father needs no words from me to slander his name. All it takes is his own selfish disinterest in the empire," the samurai-ko said these words clearly and distinctly so as to heighten their impact. "At a time when the empire needs warriors, he stays on his wall and turns his back on the rest of us. What kind of bravery is that? No, Hida Kisada is a coward— and you are his mirror image. Too afraid to accept a fair fight, even within sight of the emperor's protection."

Yakamo turned and took three tremendous steps toward Hitomi.

"Very well," he said. His voice was calm but an undertone of menace ran through it. "You may have your match. But if we fight I will not take pity on you for being such a fool.
You
are the one who has asked for this, and you are the one upon whom all the consequences fall."

Hitomi laughed. "Spare me your threats, Crab," she said. "I know who I'm facing. I know what you're capable of. And before we even start, I already know the outcome."

Yakamo grunted.

The two turned and stalked side by side toward a nearby dueling school, where a legal, honorable, and highly public match could be arranged.

Students of every ability level practiced in the large courtyard. The younger students performed their kata in long, neatly aligned rows. The intermediary students fought mock battles where every blow was choreographed like a Noh drama. Along the periphery the advanced students gathered around dueling pits, small arenas where two of their fellows fought one on one, using bokken.

The Crab and Dragon samurai followed them over to one of the pits. Yakamo and Hitomi's faces were set with grim determination. The others wore worried expressions. This was clearly more than a simple duel. Yakamo and Hitomi approached a group of sensei, explained their challenge, and asked to make use of the dueling arena.

The eldest of sensei agreed, with the provision that he and his colleagues act as referees for the match. He could see the burning hate in both combatants' eyes. This would be a match to first blood, not to the death.

Hitomi and Yakamo agreed, but each knew the first hit would be deadly.

Word spread quickly through the streets of Otosan Uchi. Before long, students, teachers, and visitors alike crowded around the pit. They stood five and six deep, craning their necks to see the combatants as they prepared for their duel

Mirumoto Hitomi knelt in one corner, her head bowed in meditation. She had her katana drawn and laid across her lap.

At the other end of the pit, Hida Yakamo stomped around and shook his head like a caged animal. He swung his tetsubo through the air in great arcs that passed frighteningly close to the first row of the crowd.