The Initiate Brother Duology (42 page)

It was an exercise Shonto had done a thousand times—ever since he was a child, in fact. He formed each character with the utmost care, focusing all of his attention on every stroke of the brush.
To exist beyond the world, beyond the emotions, in the purity of the act itself, that is tranquillity of purpose.
He inked his brush again and stopped to examine his effort. Was that the slightest sign of a shake? Had his attention wandered?

He set his brush to paper again, recopying the line that dissatisfied him. There was no reason for the brush work not to be perfect. The plan would work or it would not, and if it did, the fleet would be in the locks before dawn. Then, and only then, would Shonto have things to deal with. Until that time, thinking of what might or might not be happening was of no use.

Speak carelessly and your orders will be followed in the same spirit.
The brush moved on the paper without sound, and the lord bent over his work in total concentration.

*   *   *

A horse galloped up the hill, rising with such speed it seemed as though it were borne by the wind itself. Lord Hajiwara listened to the sound as though he would tell the news by the haste of the rider. It was the hour of the dove, he guessed as he gazed up. The sky was broken and ragged, clouds sailing like a fleet before the wind. The quarter-moon glowed from behind a cloud on the western horizon and in the east there would soon be the beginnings of dawn. Around him, on the shoulders of the hill, Hajiwara could see the signs of battle—fallen soldiers and horses—though the color of their livery was not visible.

“Who wins the battle by night?”
Hajiwara said to himself, posing the question from an old adage.
“Those who see the day break.”

The wind had not fallen and its howl mixed with the sound of the battle that was still raging. It was a strange, unsettling storm and none the less so for being dry. No rain had fallen and now the clouds broke up and scattered as though they had accomplished their purpose.

The horse slowed at the outer ring of guards and then raced on to the hilltop. Reining in his mount, the rider appeared in the torchlight, a lieutenant attached to the lord’s staff. He dismounted as a guard hurried to take the bridle, and then went directly to Lord Hajiwara. He bowed without any sign of haste, and then pulled open his face-mask. His mouth was surrounded by a black ring where dust had stuck to sweat.

“Lieutenant?” the general at Lord Hajiwara’s right prompted.

“Sire, I come to report that we have taken Lord Butto Joda.”

Lord Hajiwara nodded and opened his face-mask. His staff knelt around him, bowing as the lord offered his thanks to the gods.

“Where is the vanquished lord?” Hajiwara asked. “You say you have ‘taken him’?”

“Sire, he was captured unharmed and has been brought safely through the lines, though not without pursuit. I came ahead to allow you time to prepare.”

The lord nodded and then he and his staff sat without discussion or sign of impatience. They noted the beauty and tranquillity of the moon in contrast to the sounds of battle. They reflected upon the state of their own spirits at that instant. The Hajiwara had waited generations for this; they intended now to make the moment perfect.

Horses galloped, a resonance like a heart pounding out of control. Twenty men slowed for the guards and then pushed on. In the half light the Hajiwara green was visible and, as the riders grew closer, purple on one horseman no bigger than a child. They reined in and untied the child from the saddle. He was forced to his knees before Lord Hajiwara, arms tied behind his back.

“Do you not bow, Lord Butto Joda?” Hajiwara asked quietly.

The figure in black and purple made no move but remained still and, somehow, dignified. Hajiwara gave a signal to his general who nodded to a guard who stepped forward and removed the young lord’s face-mask and helmet. He pushed the boy’s face down to the ground and then stepped back.

“Look up, young lord, see what your family’s pride has brought you.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, the boy rose until the flickering light of the torches illuminated his child’s face. Hajiwara was on his feet, his sword half out. He glared at those around him like a crazed man who has discovered that everyone is a traitor. And all of the faces went pale with the realization.

“Get him out of my sight!”
Hajiwara screamed.

“Sire, we did not know…. We thought…” The lieutenant fell silent and then rose and dragged the false Joda off into the night.

The hammer of horses’ hooves came from behind. The Hajiwara staff closed around their lord as the riders approached, but then relaxed as they saw the green lacing.

The senior officer of the group, an old captain, dropped to his knees before his superiors.

“Captain?” the general asked.

“Sire, there is an army on the plain at our rear.”

This time Lord Hajiwara did draw his sword as he rose. “An army! This is not possible! How could the Butto penetrate our lines?”

“They do not seem to be the Butto, Sire.”

“Not the Butto! What colors?—what colors do they show?”

“Blue, Sire.”

Spinning, Hajiwara sliced through the pole of a torch, sending it rolling down the slope. “Shonto! It cannot be!”

“They are on foot, Sire. Yet they still come quickly. If you are to escape, you must go now.”

Hajiwara’s senior general took charge, ordering horses, setting guards off with the Hajiwara banners in a different direction. Torches were pushed into the dirt. The lord set out east, hoping to skirt the Shonto army and to gather reinforcements from the Hajiwara perimeter.

The sounds of battle did not diminish and no one noticed as the moon disappeared behind the hills. In the eastern sky, morning stained the clouds with its pale dye.

*   *   *

An arrow sparked off the stone above General Hojo’s head, causing him to crouch as he leapt. The first Hajiwara guard went down to a single stroke and the second fell back, parrying madly, before he slipped from the walkway to his end.

Hojo Masakada moved quickly toward the tower now, not allowing himself to run. A dozen elite Shonto guards followed behind him. It had all been easier than he had hoped. His assessment of the Hajiwara men had been correct—no match for the Shonto trained. But then the men Hajiwara had left in the keep were the weakest of his soldiers. He must have truly believed the Shonto guards would sit meekly and wait for his return. The general almost laughed.

The main gate was open now, and Shonto soldiers poured in from the plain. He would bow low to Brother Shuyun and Lord Komawara when he saw them. He had not truly believed they would succeed.

In the darkness he saw figures pull back into the tower door. Let them hide there awhile, he thought. It does not matter. The bridge was open to them now. Only the locks remained. He hefted his sword; it was good to find that he was still a warrior. It was very good.

*   *   *

On the hillside, a mist hung in the branches of the northern pines. A hawk’s call echoed across the slopes and mixed with the creaking of leather saddles. A flight of wood-crows went excitedly from tree to tree, watching the activities of man, eyeing the carnage. A line of riders passed under the hill, banners waving, but they were of no interest to the crows for they posed no threat and were strong and very much alive.

At the head of this column of soldiers, Lord Hajiwara entered the keep. It was early morning. His wrists were raw where the cords cut into them, but he ignored the pain. There was no sign of a Hajiwara soldier within the walls, though the evidence of battle was everywhere. High above the tower the Shonto banner, white shinta blossom on a blue field, fluttered in the falling wind. Hajiwara looked at it for only a second and then turned his gaze to the cobbles.

Two Shonto guards pulled the lord from his saddle, not roughly but with little sign of respect. They moved him to the center of the courtyard and made him kneel. A noise on the stairs alerted him and he looked up. Lord Shonto descended, deep in conversation with General Hojo. He was followed by a monk, an old man with only one arm, and a young lord not wearing the Shonto blue. Shonto did not even wear armor, though he carried his own sword.

At the bottom of the stairs Shonto stopped to complete his orders to the general, and then, finally, he turned to Hajiwara. He regarded the lord carefully, but without apparent emotion, as though the nobleman were a horse he might purchase. A stool was brought and Shonto sat, holding his sheathed sword across his knees.

“‘An act of treachery: a victim of the same.’ Is that not the saying, Lord Hajiwara?” Shonto asked. The lord said nothing.

“It is close enough, though you say nothing. Yet you must speak, Lord Hajiwara, and it is treachery you must speak of, yeh?”

“The treachery I am aware of was not of my making,” the kneeling lord spat out.

Shonto smiled openly. “Look around you, Lord Hajiwara—no, look! Do you think I have taken your stronghold and captured you this easily by being a fool? It seems that the mists cloud your sight, if that is what you believe. Yeh?” The kneeling lord maintained his silence and Shonto continued to regard him.

“So, Lord Hajiwara, let me tell you something of the message I am about to send to the capital. I intend to say in this letter, that you and your son-in-law, the Imperial Governor of Itsa, have conspired with a certain…officer in the Imperial Guard to end the life of Lord Shonto Motoru in such a way as to make it appear that the Dragon Throne has condoned, if not directed, this plot. This would have had the effect, had it been successful, of turning the Great Houses against the Throne, creating a situation that could have proved very advantageous to the officer I have mentioned.” Shonto regarded Lord Hajiwara. “Even if I am not to use the name of this Imperial Officer, I think the Son of Heaven will quickly guess the name for himself. Do you still prefer to remain silent?” He waited for a long moment, but the lord said nothing.

“Lord Hajiwara, you disappoint me. You do not think the Emperor would have been involved in such a clumsy attempt do you? Was it not the
tiger
, the
tiger that speaks,
who came to you?”

Hajiwara glowered at the stones in front of him.

“Kamu,” Shonto said addressing the aged steward.

“Sire?”

“In your dealings with Lord Butto, did you agree to pass Lord Hajiwara into Butto hands?”

“That is correct, Sire.”

“Ah. Perhaps we were hasty. Lord Hajiwara, excuse me if I explain something that is already clear to you. The Butto army rages across your fief as we speak. You are captive without hope. Below us, my fleet passes through locks that are controlled by Shonto guards. Your son-in-law, the governor, has resigned his position and gone into hiding. Nothing remains to you: not family, not allies, not troops, not land, not even honor. Do you wish to suffer the humiliation of being the captive of a child whose name is Butto?”

Lord Hajiwara did not look up, but he shook his head slowly and with what seemed like great effort.

“Then it is perhaps wise that you speak to me of treachery. If you do so, and your words are deemed worthwhile, you will be given a sword. It shall be said that you died in battle, honorably. This is your choice, Lord Hajiwara, but you must make it now.”

The kneeling lord closed his eyes, his body rigid with anger. “Do you give your word that I shall have the sword?”

“On the honor of my family. Bring Lord Hajiwara his weapon,” Shonto said, then nodded to the man on the stones before him, an order to begin.

“It is as you said. Jaku Katta approached us through his youngest brother. It was he who arranged that the Hajiwara take this keep and he encouraged our just war with the enemy of our family. Jaku promised us that, in return for our services, he would, in time, give us the Butto and their fief. But this was all done in the name of the Emperor, not in the name of Jaku Katta, as you suggest. The service the Black Tiger wished performed, was the…interception of Lord Shonto at the locks.” The lord fell silent, seeming to contemplate the stone in front of him.

“‘Interception,’ Lord Hajiwara? Please explain?”

The kneeling lord met Shonto’s eyes, but he paused before speaking. “He wanted you dead, Lord Shonto.”

“Huh. Brother Shuyun?”

“I believe he is telling the truth, Sire.”

“You have earned your sword, Lord Hajiwara,” Shonto said. He rose and walked away.

T
HEY HAD ENTERED the province of Seh before dawn and few but the night-watch had seen the border markers pass. Late morning still found the air cool, though the sailors did not complain for it filled the sails and gave them rest from their toil.

On the bow of the river barge Shuyun watched the passing landscape, wondering at the change of it. They had left the canal and locks for a quicker passage and were in a true river now, a river that wandered across the countryside and among the hills like the tail of a sleeping dragon. The shores broke down into long gravel banks which then rose again in great steps of gray-white stone.