Yamada Monogatori: The Emperor in Shadow (23 page)

“The spirits of those children? They are here?”

“In a way. They were never children, rather they were little more than potential, but naming them made them more—a potential with a
name
and an identity but forever separated from the life they failed to grasp. Three lost potential spirits, denied the one thing they desired above all else. What do you think happened then, Lord Yorinobu?”

His voice faltered, his anger done. “H-hungry ghosts.”

“I fear this is so.
They
are what attacked Shinjurou. Their goal was not to kill but to
devour
. Princess Shigeko never intended for this to happen, but she knew them for what they were. That is why she never departed—she could not abandon her children, even if they were monsters. She keeps watch over them and does what she can to restrain them. She saved Shinjurous’s life . . . and my own. I owe her gratitude and my aid. I would never insult her.”

“Lord Yamada . . . wait. Something’s happening!”

I heard the first howl even before he’d stopped speaking.

“Please excuse me, Lord Yorinobu.”

I rose and sprinted as fast as I could toward the mansion.

I knew they wouldn’t go quietly.

Princess Shigeko had managed to confine the three creatures to her mansion, but the rite of exorcism was making the veils between their proper world and our own very thin. One side effect, I now realized, was Shigeko’s power over them was weakening. I saw a shimmering apparition on the west veranda and had no doubt more would appear.

“Hold them! Morofusa, Ujiyasu, to the west! Kenji follow me!”

We had no weapons other than our
kodachi
, but both my and Morofusa’s blade still carried the blessing that let us defeat the
inugami
in Heijo-kyo. I guessed the other two hungry ghosts would attempt to leave the mansion either to the east or west. If I was wrong and they all left in different directions or all used the same one, there would be no way we could stop them. I did not necessarily count myself fortunate when two of the ghosts appeared on the east veranda.

We all heard the priest’s voice falter at the sight of the creatures. Having seen them myself, I was not at all surprised. Kenji immediately joined him in the rite, picking it up word for word as the creatures approached. With Kenji’s encouragement and support, the frightened priest’s voice steadied. Even so, the creatures continued to approach. I heard the commotion from the opposite side and knew Morofusa and Ujiyasu were engaging the creature there. While Kenji worked with the faltering priest, that left only me to keep the two hungry ghosts at bay.

I can’t let them get any closer.

I stepped forward and slashed the air in front of them to no effect. I forced myself a step closer and slashed again, and this time the blade bit into them both, one on the spindly forearm, the other on its twisted face. To my surprise they stopped for a moment, staring at the ghostly blood dripping from their wounds. I understood, in the underworld, the body a hungry ghost wore would be as real as my own, to better drive their hunger. Here, the effect was much the same. In a moment each one was licking its own blood as if it were a sweet. When they started forward again, I slashed again, which also made them pause to devour the bits of themselves released by the blessed blade, and now they were starting to giggle, a high-pitched, ghastly parody of laughter.

“More . . . ”

I knew after the next time, their own blood would not be enough, could never be enough, because nothing would ever slake the hunger I saw in their eyes. They would devour me, Kenji, the priest, the grass beneath our feet and every living thing in their path, and this too would never be enough, because the creation and catalyst of their desire was something they could never have, not so long as they remained what they were.

“Kenji . . . ”

“Just a little longer,” he muttered and immediately returned to the exorcism.

I knew I didn’t have a little longer.

“Children,” said a new voice.

Princess Shigeko stood on the veranda, weak in the sunlight. “Come to me.”

The ghosts hesitated, looking a little confused.

“Hungry . . . ”

I knew one of them had spoken, but it was hard to tell which one. Shigeko kneeled and raised her arms as if to embrace them. “I know. Soon you will be fed, I promise.”

The entire exchange lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough. Another moment, and the rite of exorcism was complete. The hungry ghosts faded into nothing, still reaching for me. Princess Shigeko’s spirit bowed to us and then rose and disappeared back into the mansion.

I think—I hope—we are not yet done.

I ran back to the palanquin, noting with relief neither Morofusa or Ujiyasu appeared injured, though the priest who had conducted the ritual on the west side of the mansion was as pale as a spirit himself. He had to walk with the aid of two stout Fujiwara.

“Lord Yorinobu, if you still wish to say goodbye to your daughter, you must hurry.”

I will say in his defense, should I ever be asked to do so, he did not stand on ceremony. He tore the curtain of his palanquin aside, scrambled out, and rushed toward the south entrance. I followed, no more than a few paces behind. When he slid the door open, I could see the fading image of Princess Shigeko.

“Forgive me, Father. I never meant for any of this . . . ”

“I know,” he said. “It is nothing. Go in peace.”

She was gone. Lord Yorinobu stood there, looking into nothing for several moments. Then he turned to me and waved his arm at the walls of the now-empty mansion. “Not a word. None of this ever happened.”

“Of course not, my lord.”

“I will keep my word,” he said. “I know you will do the same.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

For a time, I believed I had evaded Morofusa and walked the city alone, but when I paused to watch a rising moon from Shijo Bridge, the Minamoto
bushi
very casually walked up to stand beside me.

I sighed. “Have you been there all along?”

“Mostly,” he confirmed. “But Master Kenji had told me where I might find you, which made tracking you much easier. Now then, Lord Yamada, must we have this conversation again?”

“No, Morofusa-san. I owe you an apology, I know. It was foolish of me, and I know that, too.”

“And yet you still did it,” he said, “so now I find myself wondering why.”

I was afraid he was going to ask me that. I didn’t have a good answer for him, and said as much. He seemed to consider.

“When I do something, usually I know why I do it,” he said. “Either an order, or duty, or sometimes my own best interests. Even a mere whim, now and again. The idea one could do such things and not know why seems strange to me.”

“An opinion we share, Morofusa-san.”

“With your permission, Yamada-sama, I would like to suggest, if not a reason, perhaps an explanation. You need neither agree nor contradict. I merely offer it for what little it may be worth.”

“I would like to hear it,” I said, though a flash of fear made me wonder if what I had just said was true.

“I think, on some level, you do know the reason but cannot bear to admit it. So, perhaps, by placing yourself in physical danger, you are protecting something that is not physical, but can still be harmed?”

I took a long breath. “It is an interesting idea, Morofusa-san. I will consider it.”

He bowed. “I would appreciate this. I might not find you next time, which would not be good for either of us. Shall we return?”

“Not just yet,” I said. “The moon has finished waning and is new again. The sight of it makes me happy.”

It was only a little lie. I did enjoy the view from this bridge, and I always had. But I was not happy, not there. Perhaps especially not there.

“Then, if you do not mind, I will guard your back while you do so. This will make
me
happy.”

I stood there a while longer. I’m not sure how long. It was a pleasant enough night, cool as one would expect this time of year, but not yet holding the edge of winter. That would happen soon enough, but for now it was pleasant to stand on this bridge, viewing a sliver of a moon, remembering some of the times I had done this very thing. On the first night I had met Teiko’s brother, Prince Kanemore. And another night, when he had brought her letter for me to read, the one she had written just before she had taken her own life to plant the seed that, perhaps now, I would finally see bear fruit. On that day my service to a memory would finally be over, and perhaps I would have reason to contemplate what the rest of my life could or should be.

It’s a foolish thought.

Morofusa had the right of it. I knew why I was there on a lonely bridge staring at the moon. I had come to Kyoto to complete a task, and the part of it all I did not want to admit to myself was I did not think this task would ever be done. I would likely be serving a memory and chasing ghosts for the rest of my life. My time with my son and daughter was perhaps as close as I ever would come to having something resembling contentment, but I could feel even this slipping away from me now. I never really believed the Kamakura fief and the revival of the Yamada Clan had changed anything, and every event since I had left Kamakura had proven it. If Princess Shigeko’s troubled spirit was now at peace and Lord Yorinobu had sided with the emperor’s faction as a result of my efforts, all well and good, but if his clan still found it necessary to remove Teiko’s son from the throne, they would look for and find another way.

It would never be over.

The sooner I accepted my fate, the better.
This
was my life and likely always would be. Still, as I gazed at the moon my thoughts drifted back to Princess Tagako, a place they surely did not belong and never could.

“Morofusa-san, I am ready. Let’s go home.”

A week passed, and still Prince Kanemore had not returned. I was beginning to find his absence personally annoying, since I knew there were questions he could answer, and the plot against Princess Tagako might have been the least of them.

“I’ve said this before, but it was not a coincidence Prince Kanemore arranged that extra detachment of
bushi
for her escort. He knew something.”

Kenji frowned. “Lord Yamada, with all due respect, perhaps you are overthinking this. Tagako herself said Prince Kanemore was an old friend. Why would he not want to show her a token of respect, now that she was to return to the Capital? You must admit, that
is
the sort of thing he might do.”

“Also true. Yet I still find it hard to believe the prince would leave the Capital at such a critical juncture in the emperor’s reign.”

Kenji wasn’t finished. “Yes, but his sister’s son is now emperor. Whether this continues depends on karma. As for Kanemore, he’s said all along his one goal, other than seeing his nephew Prince Takahito take the throne was to renounce his title and found a new clan. Now that the first is accomplished, perhaps the second is in motion? Such a process would surely remove him from the Capital for an extended period.”

Everything Kenji said was certainly possible, even sensible, but I also did not believe it to be true.

“If such were the case, I would be pleased for my friend. I hope one day it will be true, but I do not believe that day has come. If the threat which summoned us to the Capital in the first place still exists, there is simply no way he would abandon his obligation to his nephew until it was settled.”

Kenji’s exasperation with me was obvious. “Kanemore himself said his absence was at the emperor’s command. The reasonable conclusion is he is on the emperor’s business, something more important than his presence in the Capital.”

“Very reasonable,” I said.

“You do not believe it, do you?”

“No.”

“Fine. Let us consider your view—Prince Kanemore is indeed in the Capital, has never left, is deliberately lying to you and avoiding you, and is keeping you dangerously uninformed about crucial subjects. Why on earth would your friend of many years do such a thing?”

Stated so baldly as Kenji had just done, the possibility seemed even more unlikely.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“Which is another way of saying the idea is nonsense,” Kenji said.

Kenji’s words spurred a different line of thought. “Another thing makes no sense—if Prince Kanemore suspected a conspiracy to compromise Sadahito’s mother and thus remove him as crown prince—as related by Lady Kuzunoha—why would he not inform me of any details of his suspicions? It is not as if I have freedom of movement within the imperial compound. Without his assistance, I have none at all. As things stand, we don’t even know where to start looking for the structure of such a plot. So there are two aspects of this situation which make no sense, and yet we know one of them is true.”

“I assume you are referring to Kanemore’s message via Lady Kuzunoha?”

“His letter to me when we arrived in the Capital confirms she was his messenger, and I have no reason to doubt the message itself. So if one thing that makes no sense is true, what conclusion can we draw about the other?”

“None,” Kenji said, “without more information, which at the moment we likely have no way of getting. So here we are in the Capital, as yet unable to leave because the reason we’re here in the first place still remains—and will until Prince Kanemore either releases us or gives us some direction.”

“Which, it would seem, he is either unwilling or unable to do,” I said. “I have said that there are two aspects of this situation which do not make sense. I must reluctantly amend my conclusion—
none
of this makes any sense, the threat to Princess Tagako included. Sometimes I think we move among wheels within wheels, only a handsbreadth from being crushed at any moment, and no clear idea at all of what is happening.”

“Again, I believe you are overthinking this,” Kenji said. “But even if you are right, for the moment there is little we can do about it. The situation with Lord Yorinobu’s daughter appears settled, so if we must remain in the Capital rather than return home, I say we amuse ourselves as best we can until Prince Kanemore resurfaces, as surely he must.”