The Initiate Brother Duology (111 page)

The Prince nodded slowly, looking down at the wooden deck. “I can send a message to my father describing what I have seen and urge him to send officers he trusts to assess the situation for themselves. I can also travel south by fast boat and speak to the Emperor, though I may find retirement to a well-guarded estate as my reward. But even so, I would do this. As you have. Lord Shonto, so would I risk all to preserve the Empire.”

“I think a message to the Emperor is appropriate,” Shonto said quietly. “Even if it does not change the Emperor’s mind, it must cast some doubt on the counsel he has received. As you say, it may be unwise to travel to the capital yourself, especially as you have orders to take control of my army and send me south under guard.” Shonto looked over at General Hojo as though remembering an earlier discussion. “General Hojo’s report could be sent along with your letter though I think it may be wise to say nothing of the size of our own army. Let the Emperor wonder how many men we have gathered—perhaps he will raise a larger army if he is unsure.”

A silence fell for a moment. Along the shore refugees appeared again and after a morning of seeing very few it was a doubly sad sight. The Prince brushed back the strand of white hair again, without thinking. “Then, for now, I will accompany your flotilla and offer what assistance I can. If you will allow it, I will fly my banner beside your own, Lord Shonto. When we reach the inner provinces, perhaps I will be the bridge between the Shonto and the Emperor.”

Shonto bowed to the young Prince who rose suddenly. “Please excuse me, I will write to the Emperor immediately. Will you see that this letter goes to the palace?”

“Certainly, Prince Wakaro. I thank you for your counsel. Perhaps there is hope yet, if the Yamaku and the Shonto can join to defend Wa….”

The Prince gave a half bow and, followed by his retinue, descended the stairs to the lower deck.

As the white boat passed, the Prince nodded toward Shonto and then
the oarsmen dug in and sent their craft shooting ahead leaving a whirl of white petals spinning in their wake.

Kamu bowed to his lord, his face drawn and serious. “I have received word from Brother Shuyun, Sire. He has spoken to the Brothers at the nearby monastery and there is no doubt—plague has broken out among the refugees. The numbers are small and it is hoped the Brothers isolated them quickly enough to stop the disease from spreading. I have given permission to use one barge to transport the victims. The Botahist monks will man it and tend the sick.” Kamu made a sign to Botahara—uncharacteristic for him. “May Botahara protect us all. We need do nothing more for now, but if the disease spreads among the population moving south we will have a calamity, for the Brothers may not be able to deal with the thousands who would become ill. Brother Shuyun has suggested that senior Brother Sotura could be asked to oversee this problem.”

Shonto nodded, thinking for a moment. “Brother Shuyun has taken no risk of infection himself?”

“I spoke to Shuyun-sum of your concern in this matter, Sire, and he assured me that he would employ all necessary precautions.”

Shonto sat turning his cup slowly and looking out at the people moving along the canal bank. “We cannot afford to assign many river craft to transporting the sick.” He shook his head. “Have Brother Sotura take charge of this matter. If the plague finds its way out among these people,” he waved a hand at the canal bank, “thousands may die before the Botanist monks are able to control the disease. We would have been better to leave them in their homes, barbarian army or no.”

Shonto turned back to Kamu. “Once this becomes known among the refugees, there will be a panic that will itself cost lives. We have no more men to police the travelers.” He looked down into his cup. “Let us see what happens. If the diseased are isolated, the problem may grow no worse.”

A silence fell over the men on the deck for a moment. Memories of the plague years were still strong among the people of Wa. No family had been untouched by the wave of death that swept through Wa. And then the Imperial family had become ill and the war began. It was all too familiar.

“Excuse me for asking, Lord Shonto,” General Hojo said, interrupting everyone’s thoughts. “I do not understand why my lord did not allow the young Prince to speak directly to the Emperor? The fact that the Prince
would take such a risk would light his story with a flame of truth. Men often will take great risks when they believe they are the bearers of an important truth, as though the purity of their knowledge will somehow shield them from the malice and ignorance of others. The Emperor may have been given pause to think.”

Shonto nodded. “It is possible, one can never know what will impress the Son of Heaven. But if the Emperor did not believe his son…?” Shonto signaled a servant for wine. “If the son stays with us, what will Akantsu think? That I have offered the Prince the hand of my daughter and the Throne of Wa—two things of inestimable value, neither of which the Emperor will ever offer. If the Emperor loses a civil war, a Prince who is wed to a daughter of the Shonto, a bearer of the Fanisan blood, would be the most likely to ascend the Dragon Throne. There is more to overthrowing an Emperor than winning a war. One must have a suitable claimant or even the winning side can faction.” Shonto smiled. “The more threatened the Emperor feels, the larger will his army become.”

The lord shrugged. “And who can say, perhaps the Prince’s letter will make the Emperor wonder. If the Son of Heaven sends officers north to assess the barbarian army, they will see what the Prince has seen.”

“The board,” Hojo said, dryly, “has become too complex.”

Lifting the wine cup that was set before him, Shonto raised an eyebrow. “For the time being, General.” He drank, then set the cup on a small table. “The exchange of pieces begins soon.”

*   *   *

Returning to the flotilla had become more difficult than Komawara had expected. They had met a barbarian patrol as they emerged from the hills and somehow one of the tribesmen had escaped. After that they had been hunted by barbarian companies and forced to fight more than one running battle. Of the eighteen hundred men that had attacked the supply rafts only a thousand remained. There had been no further signs of the company led by Rohku Saicha and Komawara was not sure if this was propitious or cause for sadness.

“Sire,” a guard interrupted Komawara’s train of thought. The lord sat with his back against a tree, looking out over a field surrounded by tree-clad hills. Grazing horses were guarded here, and Komawara thought how lucky the animals were—his company had not eaten since morning the previous day and his stomach occasionally complained loudly.

“Sire, the guides have found the flotilla. We may reach it by late afternoon.”

Komawara nodded, it was all the reaction he felt he had energy for at the moment. “The scouting parties?”

“They report that the barbarian patrols keep their distance from Lord Shonto’s fleet, Sire, we have not seen sign of them all this morning.” The man paused and then said with some pride, “The patrols the men of Seh ride keep the tribesmen wary.”

Komawara nodded. “Tell General Jaku that we must ride again. Has our position been reported to Lord Shonto?”

The guard shook his head.

“Send someone ahead to inform Kamu-sum of our position.” Komawara heaved himself up with some effort.

“The patrols have one other thing to report, Lord Komawara.”

The lord had begun to turn away but stopped.

“It appears that a large party is separating from the main body of the barbarian army.”

“How large?”

“Perhaps twenty-five thousand men.”

Komawara nodded, looking down at the ground for a moment. “Six men will carry this news directly to Lord Shonto. Give them our strongest horses and remounts also. Tell them to ride their horses to death if need be. Lord Shonto must know of this immediately.”

Komawara signaled for his horse. The barbarians cannot let Lord Shonto continue to deprive their army of food—not after what my party has done. This smaller force will set out to catch our own army and engage it or drive us south at such speed that we cannot continue to empty the lands before us. This Khan has finally awakened.

F
OURTH MOON FLOATED free of the tree, sloughing off a robe of copper and wrapping itself in pure silver-white. Ladies Nishima, Kitsura, and Okara sat on cushions laid out on a carpet spread over the quarterdeck. So bright was the moonlight that the pink of the cherry blossoms and the white of the plum could be distinguished as the trees slipped past, their blossom laden shapes hanging like clouds over the dark canal bank.

At the request of Lady Okara, Nishima had played her harp, a subtle melody known as “The Lovers’ Parting,” though in the southern provinces it went by the name “Traveling the Spring River.”

This done they had begun a poem-series, each composing a verse in turn. Nishima had been given the honor of both the first and last verses in recognition of her poetic skills.

And then Lady Okara had taken the wine cup that went to the composer of the next verse.

The cup passed to Kitsura.

The cup returned to Nishima who took the required sip and then sat holding the cool porcelain in her lap, thinking.

When the poem was finished, the three women sat in silence contemplating the moon and the passing scene. After a suitable time had passed, Kitsura raised her flute and played a soft air that spoke to the mood like a well-chosen quotation. When she was finished, a bamboo flute answered from the canal bank, the unseen player offering a melody none had heard before but which matched the music of Kitsura perfectly.

“That was a spirit speaking to us, I am certain,” Lady Okara whispered, and the other women nodded.

Conversation ceased for some time and then Lady Nishima rose, her smile failing even as it formed. “It pains me to leave your delightful company,” she said, “but I must sleep or I will be of no use to my uncle. It has been a perfect evening, Oka-sum, cousin.” A half bow and she retreated toward the companionway.

Kitsura started another song but could not keep her focus and stopped. “I fear this war has affected my cousin in ways that are difficult to understand. Her artist’s spirit is too open and in times such as these….” She did not finish.

Lady Okara nodded. “May she never learn to wall her spirit off from the world—though it causes her heart to break a thousand times.”

The fires of a refugee camp appeared on the bank for the next half a rih and then there was only the landscape lit by moonlight, the calyptas and willows, in full leaf now, silhouetted against the stars. Intent on not disturbing the women who sat contemplating the moon, the watch changed in near silence.

“I have heard no word of the company sent to raid the barbarians’ supply train,” Kitsura said suddenly, and though it was entirely out of place to discuss such things at a viewing of the moon, such breaches of etiquette were becoming more and more common.

“Yes, and I am concerned,” Okara answered, not seeming to notice or perhaps care that it was not a suitable topic for the occasion.

“Lord Komawara has grown very grim, don’t you think? Far more than even the senior members of Lord Shonto’s staff—though of course they have seen war before. Still….”

Lady Okara sat quietly for a second. “There is much that has happened to our young lord of Seh. It gives me sorrow to see him change in this manner, but I would expect little else. He has lost the estates the Komawara have held for generations, Seh is occupied by barbarians who no doubt burned the beautiful city of Rhojo-ma. And though Lord Komawara has regained the respect of the men of his own province, the months of ridicule have not been forgotten, and…there are other things as well.”

“Other things, Oka-sum?” Kitsura asked.

Shrugging, the artist pulled her over-robe closer. “Please, say nothing of this, but I believe Samyamu-sum has been spurned, Kitsu-sum, and after all that has befallen him Lord Komawara feels there is nothing left to him. Such a feeling can lead to terrible recklessness, I fear.”

“Spurned,” Kitsura said in a whisper, her interest obvious. “Who do you think?”

Okara shrugged, not meeting the other woman’s gaze. “I thought it might be the Lady Kitsura….”