The Initiate Brother Duology (139 page)

“You are releasing them from the purpose that has guided them, Empress. They do not know where they will go or who they will be. Not one had previously thought of himself as becoming a character of importance in our history. You praise them, Empress, and rightly so, but also you send them into the unknown. How does one act as a living historical figure, a legend?”

Nishima nodded. “I do not know, Kamu-sum,” she said quietly. “In this matter I know as little as they.”

Kamu smiled. “My lady, excuse me for saying so, but Lord Shonto always said that you have long denied your place in our Empire.”

Nishima nodded slowly. “If you will lecture me regularly with quotations from my father, I will give you the wealth of a province in return, Kamu-sum.”

“Excuse me, Empress, I did not mean to step out of my place.”

Nishima looked up at this remark, unable to hide her distress. “Kamu-sum, I did not intend to criticize. To hear my father’s words spoken by a true friend…. It breaks my heart and is a comfort at the same time.” Nishima looked over at the peaceful scene depicted in the screens. “Please, Kamu-sum, ask Lady Kento if she will join me for my meal.”

Kamu bowed low and retreated almost silently.

Nishima rose from the dais and crossed the room. There was no balcony, but unshuttered windows looked out to the west as did her own rooms. The sprawling barbarian camp could not be seen from here and this bothered her. What does he do now? Nishima wondered. What are his thoughts of me? More and more the last days she had begun to admit the true question to herself.
How long will he stay?
Shuyun is no longer a Botahist monk, she told herself, but this provided little comfort. He is something more, she was forced to admit. Who am I to interfere with the course that has been set for him? It was not a question she could answer.

A knock behind her brought Lady Kento into the hall, followed by servants bearing tables and trays.

“Kento-sum,” Nishima smiled at her lady-in-waiting and then held up her hand to stop the woman from her deep bow. “If you address me or treat me as an Empress in any way, I shall throw myself off the balcony.”

Kento gave a slight nod. “As you wish, my lady, though may I point out that this room has no balcony?”

“I shall throw myself from the spiritual heights I have attained, then. With such a small distance to fall, I shall not risk much injury.” She smiled again and then gestured suddenly to the painted screens. “We have been invited to join these fine and generous people.”

Kento broke into a broad smile. “Have we, indeed? How kind of them.”

Like girls playing at make-believe the two women moved their tables closer to the screen and ate their entire meal as though they were in the company of the people depicted in the painting. Many received absurd names and Nishima and Kento gossiped about them shamelessly, attributing the most shocking behavior to one and all.

In the midst of this a letter arrived from Kitsura that contained a poem,
written in a mock romantic style, which made the women almost howl with laughter. The guards outside the doors must have wondered what their Empress and her lady-in-waiting could be doing.

It was as though a dam had burst in Nishima’s spirit and released a flood in the form of laughter, though it was not necessarily joy at this river’s source.

Only toward the end of the meal did the tone of the conversation become sober.

“When Lord Shonto was declared a rebel lord,” Kento explained, “the Imperial Guards broke down the doors to the house and took the servants to be questioned. I had escaped before they arrived. The gates were guarded by the Emperor’s men and it was not until it became apparent that the battle had been lost that they abandoned their post. Our own brave guards returned to the house as soon as it seemed possible to do so, Lady Nishima. I cannot criticize them—no one was certain what transpired in the capital and if they had come out of hiding too soon…. Less was lost than I had feared though more than I hoped. Even so, the house will soon be much as it always was.” Kento toyed with her cup, looking down as she spoke. “There for your pleasure whenever the palace does not enhance your harmony, my lady.”

“Kento-sum, I would move back tomorrow if I could, but it is truly Shokan-sum’s home now.” Nishima reached out and touched the woman’s sleeve. “But Kento-sum, you are a lady-in-waiting to one Nishima Fanisan Shonto, presently masquerading as an Empress. You would be welcome to join me here, though I can say little to recommend this place.” The corners of Nishima’s mouth turned down. “It is devoid of humor and joy, bound by senseless conventions, inhabited by men and women whose concerns and thoughts,” Nishima gestured at the painted figures, “have a depth not unlike our present companions’.”

“Lady Nishima,” Kento said, “I do not presume to involve myself in matters of the Empire, but as to this campaign we must wage against convention and…” she searched for a word, “the stultification of the spirit, I will take up my sword by your side.”

Nishima clasped her companion’s hand. “Kento-sum, you lift my spirit. I will make you the unofficial Minister of Joy, and for this service you will earn my undying gratitude.”

“To begin, in my new capacity, I believe we should find a husband for your cousin. This will make her more joyful, I’m certain.”

“Kitsura-sum?”

“Of course. She does not grow younger, my lady,” Kento thought for a second, “though it does appear she grows fairer. A husband, unquestionably. She will be searching for a consort for you even as we speak. This is self-defense.”

“Huh,” Nishima said—her father’s response. “Who would be suitable, do you think?”

Kento replaced her cup on the table. “Your brother is certainly the most appropriate of the lords I know, my lady.”

“But Shokan-sum has known Lady Kitsura all her life,” Nishima protested weakly.

“Does he not find her enchanting?”

Nishima weighed this for a second. “It would seem unlikely that he is the only man in the Empire unaffected by her charms. Certainly he does not confide such things to me.”

“If not Lord Shonto, then perhaps Lord Komawara?”

“Really, Kento-sum, that is not likely.”

“But Lady Nishima, consider—Lord Komawara is the hero of the barbarian war. Certainly he will be rewarded richly for this; larger estates, Imperial favor, a governorship one day. Every young woman in the Empire will be burning incense and chanting his name at sunrise each first day of the month. I have only met him briefly, but is he not noble and kind and quick of mind? So everyone says.”

Nishima smiled. “Less than a year ago our brave hero was thought to be the most provincial lord in the capital.”

“In less time one can change from a lady into an Empress, my lady. I have seen it myself.”

Nishima laughed with delight.

“Then he was thought provincial, Lady Nishima, but now he is viewed as having been an innocent—noble of spirit, perhaps even pure.”

“Botahara save us!”

Kento laughed now. “You do not seem disposed to let Lord Komawara go, so I return to Shokan-sum.”

A bell sounded and Nishima threw up her hands, relieved to end this conversation. “I must return to my duties. I will meet with the hero of the barbarian war this very hour. It is my belief that, offered anything he would desire, rather than ask for Kitsura’s hand, a sword, a suit of fine armor, and the greatest horse in the Empire will satisfy Lord Komawara.”

“Certainly the Empress knows best,” Kento said humbly.

Nishima favored her with a look of exasperation.

Returning to her dais as the servants cleaned away all signs of the meal, Nishima sat considering the words of both Kamu and Lady Kento. It seemed to be true—the men who followed her father and fought the barbarians when the odds were impossible had become heroes on a scale that one found only in scrolls of ancient history and tales of times beyond history. To think, she said to herself, Komawara has become the object of desire for the women of the Empire.
Komawara.

Kamu entered and bowed, kneeling before and to one side of the dais as his office required. “A letter has come from Lady Okara, Empress.” He took it from his empty sleeve and went to place it on the edge of the dais, but Nishima intercepted it. As always, she was surprised by the simplicity of the great painter’s hand. Nishima slipped the letter into her sleeve pocket—my reward for completing my duties, she thought.

She raised an eyebrow at Kamu.

“Colonel Jaku Tadamoto, Empress.”

Nishima nodded. Ah, yes, the brother of Katta. Tadamoto had been the subject of a lengthy debate among Nishima’s advisors.

As one known to have had the ear of the Yamaku Emperor, Tadamoto certainly warranted exile from the inner provinces, or at least the capital. Yet his case was not that simple. Jaku Tadamoto had corresponded with his brother Jaku Katta when the Black Tiger was ostensibly a Shonto ally and, according to Katta, was the man who had convinced the Emperor to raise an army when the barbarians invaded. Many thought him a man loyal to the Throne, even though he had grown to despise the Emperor. In the end, Tadamoto had tried to stop his brother from committing regicide and then had thrown himself between Katta and a sword blow that was intended to end Katta’s life. This Tadamoto was a man of many contradictions, Nishima realized. Rohku Saicha was of the belief that the young colonel’s knowledge of the machinations of the Imperial Government alone made him too valuable to lose.

Nishima did not yet know what should be done with this man. She was not ready to trust him, yet there was no evidence that he was a threat.

Shonto guards entered and stationed themselves close about the dais just as the doors at the hall’s end opened.

A man in the black uniform of the Imperial Guard knelt in the opening.
When he rose, Nishima felt a catch in her breath. She had seen Tadamoto before, the night of the Emperor’s death, but he had been injured and in a daze and she had been much occupied with other things. She was surprised to find that he looked so much like his brother Katta.

But Tadamoto was Katta refined. His features were certainly not weak, but they were significantly less strong than his older brother’s. His presence was also unlike his brother’s. Where Katta was all instinct and desire and strength, Tadamoto appeared to be a person deep in thought, caught up in things that had little connection with the everyday world. In truth he looked like a scholar, handsome and sincere. And then there were the famous Jaku eyes: and here the difference was profound. Unlike the cold, gray gaze of his famous brother, Tadamoto’s eyes were the green of the earth—warm and verdant.

He bowed low before the dais and knelt with his hands resting on his thighs. Nishima could read nothing on his face except perhaps a sense of sadness, which was so common among her subjects that it seemed normal. Here is one who has learned to wall his true self away, she thought, and she wondered if life in the palace would soon make her the same.

“Colonel Jaku Tadamoto,” Kamu stated formally. The old steward stayed in his place for this audience.

Nishima hesitated a second, trying to catch the young man’s eye, but she could not. He seemed like a man defeated—incongruous in one so young.

“Colonel Tadamoto,” Nishima said softly, for gentleness seemed the tone needed here. “I hope you received my letter?” She had sent him the death poem, unopened, that Jaku Katta had entrusted to her.

He stirred himself to speak but did not look up. “I did, Empress. I am in your debt.”

“Certainly that is not so, Colonel. General Katta was an ally of my father when few believed there was a barbarian threat at all.” She paused but saw no reaction. “Colonel Jaku, may I express my regrets at your loss.”

Tadamoto nodded. “You are very kind, Empress. I thank you.”

“If there is anything that I may do…. You are the brother of my father’s ally.”

“Empress, I was the loyal servant of the late Emperor. I accepted the surrender of Lord Shonto’s army and would certainly have fought my own brother’s forces if I had been so ordered. In the end Katta-sum and I crossed swords.” She saw his shoulders sag.

“Loyalty, Colonel, is something the Shonto understand. Honor and loyalty cannot be split apart, but that is not so with love. One can honor one’s liege-lord but not love him—I have seen it many times. One can love one’s own brother, but honor may not allow you to act in a manner that would indicate loyalty. I must ask you, Colonel—were you loyal to the Throne or to the man, Yamaku Akantsu?”

Tadamoto hesitated for some seconds. “I began with loyalty to both, Empress, but I could not maintain my loyalty to the man. In the end, I am not certain that I remained loyal to the Throne, for how can one be loyal to the Throne when the man who possesses it has thrown the Empire into ruin? What is the loyal act then?”

“When you went to the rooms of the Emperor the night he died, what did you intend?”

Tadamoto shook his head, pain written across his face. “In truth, my lady, I do not know. To face him, to face the Emperor with his treachery, his betrayal of his office. I do not know beyond that. I do not know.”

Nishima regarded the young man before her. “What you have said is wise, Tadamoto-sum. Loyalty to the Throne and loyalty to the person who sits upon that throne are synonymous—until the sovereign betrays his office. I do not criticize you, Jaku Tadamoto-sum, for you acted from intentions that were honorable. Few would have acted with more wisdom.”

Tadamoto bowed. “These are comforting words, Empress.”

“My father’s vassal-merchant has spoken highly of you, Colonel. Tanaka-sum believed that you suffered much from the Emperor’s betrayal of his office. Tanaka-sum is a man whose judgment I value.”

“He is a remarkable man, Empress. If the Emperor had been as wise as your merchant, the Empire would have been well governed, indeed.”

This almost made Nishima smile. “I have no doubt that would be so, Colonel. I have many questions, Colonel Tadamoto, if you don’t mind. Many things have occurred that are not entirely clear to me.”

“I am the servant of my Empress,” he replied like a reflex.