Lord of the Darkwood (20 page)

“I will accompany you a little way,” she said in a louder voice. “Just wait a moment.”

She knew she must act. She would never have another opportunity like this. She had to find Shikanoko, take Yoshimori to him, so that the true heir of the previous emperor could be restored to the throne. And she had to give Shikanoko his son, Take.

She went back to the boat and collected a few things together, the Kudzu Vine Treasure Store among them. She did not dare take too much; she left her writing implements and her clothes. She was just tying the corners of the carrying cloth when a shadow fell against the blind and a voice called quietly, “Yayoi!”

It was Asagao, the only person Yayoi could call a friend, apart from Bara, who had been her maid long ago and whom she remembered vaguely but fondly. She and Asagao were close in age, had slept side by side when they were children, hidden away in the women's temple, had caressed and kissed each other when they had begun to learn about love. They had laughed over the ridiculous men who fell in love with them, shed tears for the charming ones who would wed other ordinary women, nursed each other in sickness, bled every month on the same days.

“Are you leaving?” Asagao said.

“No, I am just walking with Kai as far as the crossroads.” It pained Yayoi to lie to her, so she said no more.

“It isn't true, is it, what people are saying?” Asagao was watching her closely.

“No,” she said simply.

“But you are not grieving. You have hardly shed a tear. You might not have killed her, but you are not sorry she is dead.”

“I am grieving. I just find it hard to express my feelings, you know that.” Yayoi strove to keep her voice light and natural.

“Yes, Yayoi, you keep everything hidden, even from your friend,” Asagao replied.

Yayoi tied the last knot and lifted the bundle.

Asagao said, “What about the lute? Aren't you taking that?”

“Why should I? I will be back very soon.” Yayoi hated leaving Genzo, but she did not dare take it, for it had no guile. It would begin to play in Yoshi's presence and betray him.

“Can I play it?” Asagao asked.

“Of course, but it is not easy.”

“I will look after it for you.”

Yayoi looked at her and saw she had not convinced her. She took her in her arms and whispered, “Goodbye.”

“Don't leave. Why do you have to go? What am I going to do without you?”

“I'm sorry. I can't explain.”

Asagao began to weep and Yayoi felt her own eyes moisten in sympathy. She could think of nothing else to say. She knew only that she had to take this chance and leave now, before it was too late. She joined Take and Kai on the shore and walked away from the pleasure boats, which had been her life for so many years.

 

11

CHIKA

Chika returned to Kitakami and immediately went to the merchant house, which was now the center of the Kikuta empire, and his home. Kiku was overseeing the sampling of the latest batch of soy bean paste. His eyes lit up when Chika came in, and he handed his ladle over to the nearest servant and took Chika into the back room, which overlooked the port, the estuary, and the vast expanse of the Northern Sea.

“Lady Hina has left?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes, she has gone to the Darkwood with the monkey acrobats.”

“Were there any problems?”

“Fuji was going to prevent her, so…”

“So you very cleverly killed her, leaving no trace?”

Chika nodded.

“Kuro has taught you something after all. Come here. You did well.”

Around him Chika could hear the sounds of the vats being weighed down with stones, to bring the soybeans to fermentation. The smell was intense, making the days of high summer seem even hotter. From the shop, he could hear his sister's voice, greeting customers, giving orders to other women, scolding the children. It should have annoyed him—after all, she was a warrior's daughter, she should not have ended up a merchant's wife, especially when that merchant was not even fully human. Yet he did not refuse to approach Kiku, and allowed the other man to embrace him, feeling the familiar stab of desire, all the stronger for being tinged with repulsion. No one else, since his father died, had met his need for approval and love, and Kiku still fascinated him, as he had since the first day Chika had spied on the boys at the hermit sorcerer's place in the forest and seen how they could split into two separate selves and fade into invisibility. He had been following the monk Gessho, had watched the fight in which both the monk and the sorcerer died, and had longed to be like those boys, to have such skills.

He had learned everything Kiku and Kuro could teach him, but some things could not be taught. They were innate skills and could not be acquired. His nephews and nieces possessed them in varying degrees. He had watched them develop, as the children grew, envious of them and delighted by them at the same time. There were a lot of children. Kiku had restrained his pleasure in killing to some extent, but not his lust. Chika's sister, Kaze, seemed always to be pregnant, as were the female servants. Kuro was the same, fathering many children, a couple of whom he brought home in a basket, handing them over without explanation to Kaze to bring up. Even Ku had found a wife and started a family.

The brothers liked the children, almost to excess, Chika thought. It surprised him, for in all other matters they showed little gentleness and no sentimentality. The children were precocious, walking at six months, talking before they were a year old, but they matured more slowly than their fathers, due to their mothers' human blood.

“There is no one like us,” Kiku often said. “We have to make our own tribe.” More and more frequently he referred to the three linked families in that fashion, and soon they were all calling themselves the Tribe.

Sometimes Chika envied them. If his life had not been disrupted by war, he would be married, with children of his own. But who would he marry now? He was no longer a warrior, yet he was not really anything else. Outside the Tribe he had no caste or family, yet he would never be truly one of them. He thought of Hina, as he often did, recalling her beauty and charm.
She could have been mine. What would our children be like?
The idea that Unagi hoped to take her as his wife enraged and saddened him, as did the realization that Hina loved Shikanoko. He had seen it in her face when he had told her of his sister's dream.

One is a merchant, one an outlaw, yet they both have more chance of winning her than I do
, he reflected.

Now Kiku said, still holding him close, “You and your sister have made me more human. You came to me when I needed to learn how to relate to other people. We were the same age. I know that warriors, like the family you came from, feel strong bonds of loyalty. While I am not sure I fully understand that idea, I do feel a bond with you. I will always be grateful for that.”

“I owe you everything,” Chika replied. “And yes, there is a bond between us.”

Kiku said, “I used to watch the fake wolf, the one that attached itself to Shika—did you ever see it?”

“Once, at Matsutani,” Chika replied. “And of course during the winter he spent at Kumayama it was always at his heels.”

“Affection made it become more real—it grew and changed, in a way the other animals Shisoku created could not. I often wonder what he did, when he made that one, that enabled it to love and so to grow. Do you suppose it has died, as a real wolf would have done by now, or has its artificiality extended its life?”

“With luck, we will find out before too long,” Chika said.

Kiku smiled as he released him. “I hope so.”

“What do you want me to do now?” Chika said.

“It is the mask that gives Shika such great power. As we know, it cannot now be taken from his face. But like my skull it was created through combining male and female essences. I've learned from Akuzenji's sorcerers that in such circumstances the mask can only be removed by a woman who loves him. You told me before, after Kaze's dream, that Hina might be that woman.”

“I'm sure of it now,” Chika said, after a moment.

“You are jealous, Chika?” Kiku said with his customary acute perception. “Do you want her for your wife?”

“Maybe I do. Maybe I always have.”

“Your family have significant dreams,” Kiku said. “What about your father? Didn't he have a dream about Shika, that he straddled the realm, holding power in one hand and the Emperor in the other?”

“My father believed it was a prophecy,” Chika said. “But Shikanoko rejected the opportunity to take power when it was offered to him.”

Kiku said slowly, “The Princess's death affected him so strongly.”

“If my sister died,” Chika said, “would you walk away from your little empire, from all you have built up?”

Kiku stared at him, trying to fathom the meaning behind the question. “Probably not,” he admitted. “Though I am very fond of her, in the same way I am fond of you. But all that happened years ago. Surely Shika will have recovered from grief by now.”

“There are some things we never recover from,” Chika replied.

Kiku said, “That is hard for me to understand. The thing is, I really
need
the mask, with or without Shika.” He smiled, with the small gratification of using an exact word whose meaning had never been clear to him till now. “If Hina cannot remove it, we will take it, still attached to his head. He turned us away. ‘Let me never set eyes on you again,' he said. Once he is dead, you can have Hina.”

“He betrayed many,” Chika said, “when he did not return to Kumayama. I'll never forget those who died as a result, and I'll never forgive him. It will be a pleasure to kill him.”

Kiku turned pale, and for a moment did not respond. Then he seemed to gather himself together. “It disturbs me to talk of killing him,” he said. “I am very confused. Sometimes I hate him, sometimes I feel another kind of emotion. I long to see him again.” He struck his chin with his fist two or three times. “It is as if something is driving me to confront him, almost as if the skull wants to challenge the mask. I will have no rest until I hold it in my hands.”

After a few moments of silence, Chika said, “So I am to go after Hina and take her to Shikanoko, and once he is released from the mask—what then? Do you want me to kill him or not?”

“I cannot decide,” Kiku said. “I must give it more thought. Maybe you should go first to my brothers Ima and Mu. I have been thinking for some time that we five were born together—we should all live together, all five families. Only Mu fully understands Kuro and myself. Tell him I want to see him. I want us to work together.”

“You will have to apologize to him and beg his forgiveness,” Chika said. “You tied him up and slept with his wife. Most people would consider that a terrible betrayal.”

“She was a fox woman,” Kiku said, “less human than I am.”

“Mu loved her deeply, though,” Chika said.

Kiku shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe I envied that, being able to love.”

“That's why you have to ask him to forgive you.”

“That word again,” Kiku said. “What does it mean?”

“That you are sorry you hurt him.”

Kiku scowled. “Very well. Tell him I am sorry.”

“Deeply sorry.”

“Whatever you like,” Kiku said, with a flash of impatience. “Whatever it takes.”

 

12

HINA (YAYOI)

Kai did not turn back at the crossroads but walked on alongside Yoshi, her drum slung across her back. From time to time she brought it forward and sent its dull note reverberating through the trees. She laughed and chattered with Yoshi and Saru. Yayoi remembered how Fuji had told her that Kai and Yoshi had been taken onto the boat at the same time. Now she wondered how much Kai remembered of her previous life, and what she knew of Yoshi. Watching them together, she became aware of a deep understanding between them, the sort that people described as a bond from a former life.

From time to time she caught a glimpse of the bird that always followed Yoshi. Yayoi had long suspected it was a werehawk, like the one that had flown to Matsutani, the day the bandits were captured. Shikanoko had killed it with an arrow when no one else had been able to. It was many years ago, yet she still remembered vividly the creature plummeting to the ground, its blood sizzling, Shikanoko's stance, her father's expression.

That bird had been completely black, apart from its yellow eyes, but this one had a spangling of gold, as though its plumage were changing color from year to year. It did not seem to age or suffer. Yoshi did not care for it; he never fed it or spoke to it, yet he sometimes referred to it by its name: Kon. Kai was kind to it, as she was to all birds. It was obvious to Yayoi that, like Genzo, Kon knew the young acrobat's true identity. Together with Kai, they were all that remained of Yoshi's former life, a link with the past that he did not—or did not want to—remember. She had left the lute with Asagao, but Kon chose where he went and whom he followed.

“Sometimes they try to trap him,” Take told her, following her gaze. “Yoshi would love it if he stayed home in a cage. But he is too clever to be caught. I have offered to try to shoot him down, but of course they would not allow him to be killed.”

Yayoi knew the open secret that the acrobats all belonged to a sect, a kind of hidden religion, that forbade the taking of any life. There was some divine mother and child they worshipped, which she often thought must be the reason they loved children, and remained in some ways children themselves. She was also aware that they always sought a blessing before going on a journey, and that a priest of the sect lived not far from Aomizu, so she was not altogether surprised when, late in the first day, in silent agreement, Yoshi and Saru took a side track that led away to the north.