L5r - scroll 04 - The Phoenix (5 page)

She nodded.

They resumed walking. Soon the two of them stood on one of the castle's many sheltered verandas, looking out over the night-dark greenery. A summer breeze rustled through the garden, making the trees shake and the flowers dance. A few white rose petals wafted by, like kites on a blustery day.

The wind was chilly for the season, and Kaede wrapped her kimono tighter around her body. For a time, neither she nor Ishikawa spoke. They just stood close together, inhaling the night breeze.

Finally, Kaede said, "Did you see his eyes?"

Ishikawa shook his head. "The emperor's? No. Why? What did you see?"

"For a moment," she said, "when he looked at us, I would swear I saw fire inside his eyes."

"A trick of the light," Ishikawa replied. "It's those damn red lanterns that Kachiko favors. They make everything look eerie."

Kaede nodded. "Perhaps."

Ishikawa looked at her longingly. He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again. His face grew stern.

She wondered what he had been about to say. She knew what she
hoped
he would say—but such words had never passed between them. Perhaps they never would.

A sudden flapping sound disturbed the breeze. Ishikawa drew his katana to defend the Void Mistress.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"A bat maybe," he said, "or an owl. Stay back." But as the words left his lips, they both saw what it was—a small bird winging its way through the darkness.

"That's strange," said Ishikawa.

Kaede shook her head. "It's a message from my people." The Mistress of the Void extended her hand, and the bird came down and perched on her outstretched finger.

Ishikawa had never seen a bird like it before. It was small, about the size of a dove, but its plumage was brilliant orange, red, and gold. It had a soft tuft of yellow feathers on top of its head and a downy orange frill around its neck. Its eyes and lalons sparkled like pure gold. It made a small trilling sound as Kaede gazed at it.

A thin golden cord bound a small scroll to the bird's right leg. Kaede took the note, unrolled it, and read. She frowned.

Then she sighed and said, "I've been summoned to the Elemental Council."

Ishikawa nodded. "I'll tell your servants to pack for the trip."

SUMMON1NGS

^sawa Uona leaned her left hand on a rock and looked up. The wind whipped around her, blowing her black hair into her face and making the red and yellow birds on her white kimono flap their tiny silken wings.

The mountain towered over her, not so tall now as it had been a short while ago. The summit remained just a brief climb away. Uona smiled; she loved the mountains almost as much as she loved the wind.

Where else on Rokugan could one stand and touch the clouds? Where could one be closer to the wind and air? Where could one escape the everyday duties of court life, the intrigues, the romances, the boredom? Some in the Phoenix preferred the great libraries, but Uona preferred a secluded mountaintop.

The wind found the crevasses in her kimono, but she didn't mind. The cold invigorated her skin rather than chilling it. She drew a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled it

in a slow whistle through her mouth.

Probing the mountain face with her fingers, she found a handhold and pulled herself up once, twice, three times. As she topped the ridge, the mountainside flattened out. After a difficult climb, the summit was only a pleasant walk from this point on. Uona smiled.

Small scrub pines, like bonsai trees, dotted the rocky pathway. Uona strode confidently to the peak. She gazed up at the sun goddess, Amaterasu, and raised her hands in supplication. The breeze tugged at Uona's kimono, kissing her pale flesh, begging her to run with it. She turned circles on the balls of her feet and reveled in the sun and wind.

Uona gazed from her mountaintop over the majestic countryside below. Around her lay the Great Wall of the North—Kyodai na Kabe sano Kita—one of the chief mountain ranges of Roku-gan. Away to the south stretched the sacred wood, Mori Isawa, and beyond that, the fertile lands of her kinsmen.

Past the borders, she knew, lay chaos. The Emerald Empire had been in upheaval since the death of Hantei the 38th. His son was no replacement for the wise old ruler. Even now, clan fought clan and plague ravaged the land. Not here, though. Here only the breeze touched her, only the clouds could find her.

The wind whispered its secrets in Uona's ears. It pushed gently, insistently at her back. It caressed her like a lover through the folds of her robe. With a smile on her face, Isawa Uona threw herself off the precipice and into the open air.

She fell, thrilled at the wind rushing against her body. The tiny silk birds on her kimono fluttered and flapped. Her hair trailed behind her, a dark comet in the afternoon sky. Her pale brown eyes drank in the earth far below as it rushed up to meet her. Uona laughed—a musical, joyful sound.

The wind laughed with her, touched her, lifted her up. Soon she was no longer falling. The wind embraced Isawa Uona, Mistress of the Air, and carried her up, past the mountaintops and into the sky.

She danced among the cloud tops, gathering their cold wetness into her hands and lathering her lovely face with it. She washed her hair in a thunderhead, and where she wrung it out, rain fell.

Sadly, she knew this moment could not last forever. As she lounged in the clouds, Uona saw something approaching. The thing glittered in the sunlight. She soon realized what it was.

The small bird fluttered to Uona's side and looked into the Air Mistress' pale brown eyes. She gazed back at the bird and took the small scroll from its talon. Upon reading the missive, she let herself fall out of the clouds and back toward ground once more—back toward the problems of the Emerald Empire.

xxxxxxxx

The man on the road looked like a hermit or a wandering monk. His head was shaved, and he wore a simple blue cloak over his kimono. The kimono's silk had lost its luster, and its decorations were faded with years of wear. Patterns of fish and sea plants covered the fabric. Simple straw sandals adorned the man's feet, and he held a paper parasol over his head to ward off the afternoon sun.

He came to a wooden bridge over a small river and paused to watch some peasants fish. Children played on the banks of the river below the bridge, laughing and running. The river seemed to share the children's joy. One of the fishermen looked at the man and smiled.

"What brings you out today, Brother?" the peasant asked, thinking the man was an itinerant monk.

"The sun, the sky, the trees, the water," the man answered, smiling.

The peasant, a broad-shouldered farmer in rough clothes, extended his fishing pole toward the man. "Care to try? I'm not having much luck today," the farmer said. "Maybe a priest will have better fortune."

The man folded his parasol and leaned against the bridge's wooden railing. "No thank you," he said pleasantly. "Besides, I'm not a priest, just a traveler. I'm sure your luck will improve." He hummed a lilting tune.

The farmer humphed good-naturedly and cast his line once more.

The wanderer watched the line fall into the water. He gazed at the ripples the hook made as it hit. He changed his tune slightly. As he did, a fish jumped, and then another.

The farmer scratched his head. "Well, what do you know?" he said. "Looks like there are fish in this river after all. I was beginning to wonder."

"Better hold onto your pole," the man told him. As he said it, the line went taut, nearly yanking the bamboo rod out of the farmer's hand.

The farmer laughed. "Looks like you may be my lucky charm!"

The man shook his head and picked up his parasol once more. "No," he said. "Your luck was bound to turn. I'm just glad to have been here to see it." He opened the parasol and finished crossing the bridge. The fisherman landed his catch and waved to the stranger.

Isawa Tomo, the Phoenix Master of Water, waved back. The peasant never suspected the true identity of his lord.

Tomo wandered down to the banks of the stream. The children rushed up to him, calling his name. The fisherman may not have recognized him, but the youngsters did. Tomo often passed this way. The children didn't think it odd that an Elemental Master should play with them, and their parents never believed them. Tomo played ball with his friends for a while before walking upstream once more.

He stopped for lunch on some rocks next to the rapids. Hidden stones churned the water white, like the manes of fine horses. Tomo ate his natto, sweet bean paste, and then made the leaf wrapper into a boat. He set the boat in the river and watched it navigate the eddies and whirlpools around the rocks.

As the boat disappeared around the bend, Tomo stood and left the riverside to walk through the forest. Late afternoon shadows danced amid the birches and pines. The fresh smell of the woods caressed Tomo's nose, and he drank the scent in gratefully. Overhead, birds sang sweetly.

A sudden quiet came to the forest. Tomo stopped and looked around. Was that a cloaked figure beneath the trees? Perhaps the Hooded Ronin? Tomo had heard he was in the area. No, it was just a trick of light and shadow. The birds resumed their song; Tomo resumed his walk.

His path emerged from the woods a short distance upstream. Normally, a small bridge—a few boards on a bracing frame— crossed the river at this point, but summer rains had washed down one of the supports. The bridge was missing.

An old woman stood at the end of the path, gazing at the river. Sunlight glinted off her wizened face. Tomo realized she was crying.

Walking forward, he asked, "What's the matter, Grandmother?"

The woman lifted her tearstained face to the Master of Water and tried to force a smile. "I... I was going to visit my daughter-in-law," she said. "It's the anniversary of my son's death, and I wanted to be with her and the children. I even wore my best kimono." She held out her arms to display the garment.

Tomo looked at it. It was red and white with delicate floral patterns. The kimono had been well cared for, but was starting to fray around the edges. Obviously it held great sentimental value for the woman.

"You see why I can't cross the river in this," she said. Tomo nodded. Clearly she didn't recognize him any more than the fisherman had.

The old woman continued, "By the time I walk downstream to the bridge and then back to my daughter-in-law's house, it will be dark. I'll have missed the ceremonies." Tears formed in her eyes again.

"I can solve your problem, Grandmother," Tomo said.

"How?" she asked, wiping away the tears.

"I'll carry you across the river."

She looked at him appraisingly. "I hope you won't take offense," she said, "but you hardly look strong enough. There's not much meat on your bones, young man."

"I'm stronger than I look," he said.

The old woman looked at him skeptically and sighed. "Well," she said, "Shinsei teaches us never to judge by appearances. So if you want to help, I'll let you try. Please try not to ruin my kimono."

"I won't let a drop of water touch it," Tomo said, smiling at her. "Climb on my back."

He set aside his parasol and knelt down to give the old woman a ride. She climbed onto his back and hooked her legs under his arms. "Not too heavy, am I?" she asked.

"As light as a feather," he replied. He carried her toward the edge of the river, and then stopped.

"What's wrong, young man?" the old woman asked.

"Just seeking the best route, Grandmother." He stepped in. The waters parted slightly in front of him, and he found a firm stone to set his foot on, then another, and another.

"That's funny," the old woman said from his back, "I didn't see these stepping stones from the riverbank."

"Tears had clouded your eyes," Tomo said. "Don't worry, now, we'll soon reach the other side." Another dozen steps and the Master of Water's promise came true. He set the old woman down. "See? Not even a drop on your kimono."

The old woman adjusted the fabric, looked up at him, and smiled. "Why, you're right. Thank you, young man. Domo ari-gato gozaimasu. What is your name? You must stop for tea sometime."

"Tomo," he said humbly.

"Why, the same name as one of our lords," she said, rubbing her stubbly chin.

"The very same."

She nodded. "That must be a good omen for you—though I daresay you might want to change your name before the lord finds out. I hear some of them can be very jealous."

"I doubt he'll mind," said Tomo.

"Well, you know your own business best," the old woman said. She waved good-bye and shambled down the path.

Tomo smiled. After she had gone, he skipped quickly back across the surface of the river. His feet touched neither the river bottom nor the stones he'd found earlier.

He fetched his parasol and was about to open it again when a small bird fluttered down and landed on the paper umbrella.

"Hello," Tomo said to the bird.

The red and orange animal looked at him and tweeted a

happy reply. Attached to its golden leg was a small scroll. Tomo frowned, unfastened the scroll, and read it.