The Initiate Brother Duology (95 page)

The young woman nodded slowly. She rolled the mat with exaggerated care.

“Go,” Morima said, “I will wait a while.” She met the former Acolyte’s gaze. “And may Botahara walk beside you.”

On impulse Shimeko reached out and the two women squeezed hands. Shimeko turned and hurried back to the path.

The river craft that Shimeko traveled on with the ladies from the capital lay where it had been despite her worst fear that it had gone off without her. She nodded to the guards as she came aboard. A maid passed her as she scrambled down the steps to the cabin.

“Lady Nishima has gone ashore, walking with the other ladies, Shimeko-sum.”

The young woman sat down on the bottom step, deep in thought. She felt vaguely uncomfortable for having talked to Sister Morima. I should not have done this, she said to herself, I cannot serve two masters nor do I wish to. She thought a while longer, then rose and retraced her steps.

She had noticed Shuyun’s barbarian servant on the boat moored just down the bank, a place he would not have been without his master. Approaching the guards of this craft, she gave a password and the appropriate hand signal.

“Is Brother Shuyun aboard?” she asked.

The guard nodded.

“Will you ask if I may speak with him? I am Shimeko, Lady Nishima’s secretary.”

The more senior guard nodded and his companion hurried off. Shimeko nodded to the tribesman who served Brother Shuyun. He paced the deck, looking off toward the destruction taking place in the fields, then down at his feet as he resumed pacing.

The guard returned in moments. “Shimeko-sum, please,” he gestured toward the boat ramp. “Brother Shuyun will be only seconds.”

Shimeko went aboard and saw the barbarian crossing toward her. They had met once or twice in the palace in Seh and she had been struck by his devotion to Brother Shuyun. The sight of him dressed in Shonto livery she found quite incongruous.

The Kalam waved at the fields as he approached her. “Bad, yeh? A bad thing.” He shook his head vigorously in case she did not understand his use of the language.

Shimeko nodded. “It is a very bad thing. Very sad.”

The tribesman nodded agreement, obviously happy that he had been understood.

Shuyun appeared from a hatch behind the barbarian and the Kalam bowed low. Shuyun gave the Botahist bow in return, to both the Kalam and Shimeko.

“We speak,” the Kalam said with some pride, nodding toward Shimeko.

Shuyun smiled and said something in another tongue. The Kalam bowed to both Shuyun and Shimeko and returned to his pacing.

“Shimeko-sum, it is a pleasure to see you. How do you fare in your new position?” They walked across the deck and stood by the rail where their voices would not carry to others on deck or on the bank.

“Well, Brother. I thank you again for your efforts on my behalf.”

“Lady Nishima has said that you are becoming an invaluable member of her staff. Consider this as a compliment of high order.”

Shimeko gave a half bow.

Polite conversation continued for some minutes. Cha was offered and refused. The weather was commented on. The nearness of the plum blossom season was noted and the lengthening of the day came under some scrutiny. Finally it was appropriate to go on to other matters.

“Is there some way that I may serve you, Shimeko-sum?”

Shimeko shook her head slowly and Shuyun nodded, waiting for her to speak.

“Brother Shuyun…” she began. “Brother, I was approached today by Sister Morima, the nun I served on my journey to Seh. She came dressed not as a Sister but in lay clothing. Sister Morima freely admitted that she had been sent by the Sisterhood.” Shimeko paused, overcome by a sudden need to swallow. “She had been sent to ask me for information or to persuade me to become an informant—it was not clear which. All of this she admitted. Her Order wanted to know anything I could tell about the barbarian invasion, the intrigues of the Empire, and you, Brother.” She hesitated. “I thought you should be told of this.”

Shuyun nodded. If he found this news disturbing in any way, he did not show it. “Do you know what specific information she was looking for, Shimeko-sum?”

The woman gestured with opened hands. “I did not inquire further, Brother, nor did Morima-sum pursue the matter. It almost seemed that she was performing a duty so that it could be reported done. I do not think it was a true attempt to enlist my assistance.”

“Huh. This interest in me I find most strange, and the interest in the Shonto House…What did you say to her?”

“She did not try to impose on me, Brother, so I did not need to argue or even refuse. We spoke briefly. When Morima-sum thought, erroneously, that I was about to speak of the matters she mentioned, she cautioned me that my words might be repeated to her Sisters.”

“Might be repeated?”

“That is what she said, Brother.”

“Most strange.” He gazed down into the waters of the canal. “Is there more I should hear?”

She shook her head.

“I thank you for speaking of this, Shimeko-sum. I am not sure what I shall do, but it is possible Steward Kamu may wish to speak with you also.”

She gave a tight nod.

“Most strange,” Shuyun said again.

T
HE VALLEY BETWEEN the Hills of the North and West Winds became the center of focus for a disturbing meditation by the men of Seh. Barbarian patrols had appeared there the evening before and again that morning. Now everyone watched, waiting without talk for the barbarian army to show itself.

General Toshaki Shinga stood at a narrow opening in the north tower and looked toward the point in the landscape that had become the morbid fascination of everyone in the city. The rhythmic sounds of sword polishers working drifted up to him.

It is too fine a day, the general thought. He leaned out and looked down the wall to the water lapping at its base. It is a strong city, Toshaki told himself, but it was not built to be defended by so few.

Silence had invaded the city more completely than any army could. Toshaki could almost feel men waiting. The gap between the hills drew his attention again.

A small barbarian patrol could be seen among the budding trees at the
base of the Hill of the North Wind. They had not moved from that place since first light.

Two boats swung to anchors off the lake’s northern shore, waiting for the last scouts returning to Rhojo-ma. Toshaki wondered what choice he would make if he were out on patrol. Would he return to the doomed city or would he strike out, hoping to catch Lord Shonto’s fleet? He pushed on the edges of the opening, rocking back and forth on his heels. It was the waiting that was the worst.

The men remaining in Rhojo-ma had received a detailed description of the barbarian army from a Shonto captain. Toshaki shook his head. That had been the strangest intelligence he had ever received for, rather than assist them with their strategy, the report had destroyed all hope. The sheer numbers in the barbarian army reduced their defense of Rhojo-ma to absurdity. The sole purpose of the men in Seh’s capital now was to convince the Khan that the army remaining in Rhojo-ma was too large to leave at his back. If the barbarians spent several days mounting an attack across water, Shonto would have a few more days to raise his army.
A few days,
Toshaki thought, we sell our lives for so little! At least it would be an honorable death.

Watches were changed on the city’s walls as the men of Seh began to create the appearance of a large force.
The Scarecrow Army,
someone had named it, winning a forced laugh.

*   *   *

Toshaki was making an inspection of defenses when the vanguard of the barbarian army appeared between the hills. Banners as numerous as the blades of grass came down the valley, fluttering in the spring breeze. Slowly but inexorably the riders spread across the plain north of the lake. Only when they had established a perimeter of two rih did the leading edge of the army stop but, behind this, the barbarians continued to spill out onto the plain. Tents began to appear almost immediately and horses were staked out to graze. There was little to indicate that this army feared attack. With the colored banners waving and the tents beginning to appear, the scene almost looked festive.

Barbarians on foot and on horseback came out to the edge of their camp and stood staring at Rhojo-ma, then they would return to their camp to be replaced by others who would then be replaced by others again.

When the sun set, the barbarian army was still arriving. Just as the dusk descended, the first tree was felled and dragged to the shore of the lake.

T
HE DINNER CONVERSATION had faltered badly and each attempt to fan it back to life had ended in silence and embarrassed smiles. The news that the Golden Khan’s army was poised to strike Rhojo-ma destroyed everyone’s tranquillity and purpose.

Attempting to collect their wandering thoughts in music, Ladies Nishima and Kitsura played the harp and flute for Lady Okara. Though famed for her gracious manners, Lady Okara found it difficult to concentrate on the music of her young companions and it showed in her face. In truth, the players kept losing their focus, resulting in a less than inspired performance. Lady Nishima, especially, seemed to be elsewhere.

A clatter from the deck of the river barge was enough to destroy their focus altogether and the music lost its rhythm and failed. A dull thudding of footsteps passed over their cabin and then back again. Traveling in the dark often led to emergency maneuvers and even these did not always prevent groundings.

“It is nothing, I’m sure,” Lady Okara said, and gave them an encouraging smile.

Neither Nishima nor Kitsura showed any indication of continuing and, after a moment’s hesitation, set their instruments aside with apologies.

“Even though we have known what was occurring for many months, I still find it difficult to believe that war has begun,” Kitsura said.

“Yes,” Nishima said quietly. “So many men in Rhojo-ma. It is a foolish
waste for the few days we will gain.” She rubbed her hand down the frame of her harp. “I’m glad that our Lord Komawara is not among them.”

Kitsura nodded and then she smiled. “I’ve grown quite fond of him. It seems a very long time since we met at the Emperor’s celebration.”

Lady Okara shifted her pillows and reached for her wine. “He seemed so young then.” She shook her head sadly. “It is difficult to believe this Lord Komawara is the same young man. He has become very grim.”

The conversation faltered again and finally Kitsura and Nishima bade their good nights and left Lady Okara in her cabin. The barge they traveled on now was markedly different from the one that had carried them north. This one was larger and far more elegant—not a cargo-carrier with a few cabins aft but a boat designed for passengers from Wa’s wealthier class.

At the door to Nishima’s cabin they hesitated to say goodnight and when neither of them seemed ready to sleep, Kitsura was invited in. Nishima’s cabin was lit by a single hanging lamp which cast a warm glow on the rich woods of the walls and beams. Being in the stern the cabin had actual windows rather than ports, though these were all shuttered but one. Spread over the straw mats were two thick wool carpets made by the tribes. Nishima always tried to bear in mind something the Kalam had said about the tribal people—they did not all support the Khan. In her mind her rugs were made by those tribes that hid themselves from this new chieftain.

“Oh, Nishi-sum,” Kitsura said to an offer of wine. “I have had enough for one evening.”

They sank onto cushions and back into silence. The coolness of the night was just starting to find its way into the cabin, so Nishima called a maid and asked for a charcoal burner.

Kitsura held her hands close to the heat when it came. “It is a sign of spring, Nishi-sum. The heat from this burner is not immediately stolen by the darkness. It may even warm the cabin.” She flashed her incomparable smile.