L5r - scroll 04 - The Phoenix (9 page)

"My men are on edge, Kachiko-sama," Ishikawa replied. He touched his forehead to the wooden floor of the audience chamber where the two of them sat. The room was deep inside the Hantei castle, not too far from the emperor's bedroom. Kachiko sat on a thick tatami mat at one end of the room. She looked radiant in the flowing imperial robes that both

hid her figure and enhanced it. The robes spread out around her, two arms' lengths in every direction—a visible reminder of her vast sphere of influence.

Despite himself, despite knowing the scorpion that lurked beneath the pretty facade, Ishikawa still found her beauty intoxicating. He swallowed hard to fight down the feeling. When he looked up again, Kachiko was rolling her head languidly, waiting for him to continue. Her black hair fell about her shoulders like a waterfall. Her movements made a sensuous groove at the pit of her neck.

"The guardsmen know of the turmoil in the country, and yet they must sit and do nothing," Ishikawa continued. "They long to join the fight against the minions of the Evil One."

"By protecting the emperor," Kachiko said calmly, "they
do
fight the Evil One."

"They know that," Ishikawa said. "As do I. To guard the emperor is their honor as well as their duty. It is the job they were born to, and they would have no other. Yet, the emperor is ill, and an enemy to fight is one thing, but this plague—"

Kachiko nodded sympathetically.

"It robs them of their honor. It attacks the emperor where they cannot defend him. Some of the men say we should ride to the Shadowlands and wipe out the plague at its source."

"Is that what
you
say, Captain Ishikawa?" Kachiko asked, arching one delicate eyebrow.

Ishikawa face reddened. "It is not my place even to think such things, Your Highness."

Kachiko leaned back and straightened the folds of her kimono. "I already know all this, Ishikawa," she said. "I repeat my question. Why have you come?"

Ishikawa tucked his thumbs into the edge of his obi and said, "Your samurai would feel better, I think, if they could see the emperor."

"See the emperor?" Kachiko asked skeptically.

"He has not made a public appearance for some time," Ishikawa replied. "Rumors say he is dead."

"Dead?" Kachiko said. "And if that were so, why would I not have announced the fact to the world?" Her words came out terse and clipped. She frowned at him.

"The clans still vie for supremacy," Ishikawa replied. "The daimyo think that whoever wins will seize the right to succeed to the Emerald Throne. Such people don't care that the emperor still lives. Some are spreading rumors like the ones my men have heard. The royal yojimbo speculate that you are waiting to see who is the most worthy before announcing Hantei's death. Choosing the time of the announcement would be your right, of course."

"Is that what
you
think, Ishikawa?"

"No, Kachiko-sama. But I have heard it said."

Kachiko turned and straightened her robes once again, tracing the folds into intricate, origamilike patterns. "Your samurai need to hold their tongues and put wax in their ears," she said quietly but sternly. "Such talk can cost lives."

Ishikawa nodded. "Hai, Kachiko-sama. I know it. And, if it is your wish, I'll cut out the tongue of anyone speaking such lies, but..."

"But what?"

"But all these rumors would cease if the emperor himself would appear to the men."

"Impossible. He's far too ill."

"Perhaps if I were to see him, then," Ishikawa said.

The room grew suddenly cold. "Do you doubt my word that the emperor is alive, Captain Ishikawa?" Kachiko asked.

A chill ran up Ishikawa's spine. He bowed, touching his head to the floor. "Of course not, Highness," he said.

"Do your men doubt my word?"

"Of course not, Highness."

Kachiko pulled a fan from her robe and waved it open.

"The matter is settled, then."

As she spoke, the fusuma panel to her right slid open a crack. Kachiko stood suddenly, her robes ruffling about her like the fur of an angry tiger. "Who dares ...!" she began. Then she stopped, and the fury melted off her face.

In the entryway to the room stood her husband, Emperor Hantei.

Kachiko sat quickly and bowed her forehead to the floor. "Hantei-sama," she said affectionately. "I did not know you were up."

"I heard someone calling," the young emperor said. His voice had a distant, dreamy quality to it.

Ishikawa looked up as Kachiko rose and went to her husband's side. "You're not well, Otennoo-sama," she said.

She was right. The emperor looked sick near unto death. His damp black locks fell in jagged points over his forehead, casting dark shadows around his eyes. His face had a pale cast.

The boy was thin, little more than a skeleton in a dark blue kimono. A glistening sheen of sweat shone on his skin. A sickly sweet odor—like burning flowers—accompanied him as he entered the room. His feet were bare and bony. His fingernails and toenails were long and ragged.

Only Hantei the 39th's eyes looked alive—but the life they held seemed wrong, suspicious if not actually malevolent. As the young emperor tottered into the room, Kachiko put one graceful arm around his shoulders.

"You should not be up," she said gently. "You need rest."

"Someone called me," Hantei repeated.

"Perhaps you heard us talking," Kachiko offered.

"You were talking about me?" Hantei asked, fixing her with a feverish gaze.

"Your samurai are asking for you," Ishikawa said. He rose, to help Kachiko with the emperor. Kachiko shot him an angry glance as he joined her at the boy's side. "They wish to know that you are well, Hantei-sama," Ishikawa continued.

"I am well," the emperor said. Ishikawa couldn't tell if it was an original thought, or if the plague-stricken Shining Prince was merely repeating Ishikawa's own words.

"Perhaps well enough to review the troops?" Ishikawa ventured.

Hantei glanced at him, a look of bewilderment flashing across the emperor's boyish face. He staggered forward, and Ishikawa caught him. The boy's body pressed against the captain of the guard. Ishikawa felt the heat of the emperor's fever. How can he live through such fires? Ishikawa wondered.

"I will review the troops," Hantei said. Ishikawa smelled death in the sickly sweet odor of the emperor's breath.

"Not tonight," Kachiko said gently. "It's late. You should

retire. Perhaps in the morning____" She looked at Ishikawa, fire

blazing in her dark eyes.

Ishikawa's resolve melted. How could he ask this sick youth to leave the royal chambers? "Yes," Ishikawa said to the emperor. "Morning would be fine. If you are well enough."

"Well enough," said Hantei.

Kachiko turned to Ishikawa. "I can manage him myself," she said. "Captain Ishikawa, thank you for your concern. You are dismissed." She put her arm under the boy's and led him to the exit. Ishikawa bowed.

The boy paused at the threshold as if listening and asked, "Is someone calling me? Father? Is that you?"

Ishikawa suppressed a shudder. Kachiko hurried the Shining Prince back to his own chambers.

When they had gone, Ishikawa slid back a fusuma panel at the rear of the room and left. He nodded to the guards outside the room; they nodded back. Only when he had passed into another wing of the castle did he breathe more easily.

He stopped and propped open a shutter overlooking the entryway to the castle. Sticking his head out, he inhaled deeply. The afternoon shadows had grown long, covering the courtyard below. Ishikawa recognized a figure walking toward the great gates.

He closed the shutter and hurried toward the entryway. When he arrived, he found his brother, Seppun Kiaku, speaking cordially with the guards. Ishikawa walked over to them. Seeing his brother approach, Kiaku bowed.

The younger man was neither as tall nor as broad as the captain of the guard. He did, however, share the Seppun's rugged good looks and well-honed muscles. Kiaku was dressed for traveling quickly. Only light plates of armor hung over vital parts of his body. Below them, he wore a simple tan kimono and hakima trousers. "Good to see you, Brother."

"And you as well," Ishikawa replied. "We should talk."

Kiaku nodded and bade good-bye to the guards. The two brothers turned and walked through the castle. They marched in silence through the high-beamed hall until they reached one of the many exits into the imperial gardens.

Ishikawa pushed back the shoji panel leading to the veranda outside, bowed, and said, "After you." His brother nodded and stepped outside.

They set a course beneath the cherry boughs, though the trees were now long past their bloom. "The garden seems dryer, less healthy than when I left," Kiaku said. "Even the flowerbeds have lost their color."

"Much like the land itself, I fear," Ishikawa replied.

Kiaku nodded. "Hai. Fall comes early this year. Soon the last vestiges of color will be washed away." He paused as if thinking, and then said, "What of the emperor? Any sign of him, or does Kachiko still have him under wraps?"

"I saw him just before you arrived."

Kiaku looked surprised. "You did? How is he?"

"Not well," Ishikawa said. "The plague clings to him like a leech. The plague and Kachiko—"

"That witch!" Kiaku said. "I sometimes think she conjured up this plague just to control the empire. Her first husband died after usurping the Emerald Throne, and yet, she married the new emperor."

"The Mother of Scorpions has many legs to land on," Ishikawa said. "And many ears to hear with."

"Not in this garden," Kiaku said.

"I wouldn't be so sure." Ishikawa said. He looked around as if expecting to find Scorpion spies behind the trees.

Frowning, he turned back to his brother. "I'm glad to see you looking so well," he said. "What news from beyond the walls?" he asked. "Are you recovered from the wound those maho-using bandits gave you?"

"Yes," Kiaku said. "Quite recovered." He stated it with conviction, though his face looked uneasy. His hand stole unconsciously to his side, and he rubbed his ribs for a moment. "I healed in a geisha house in Mura Kita Chusen."

Ishikawa laughed. "That's the brother I know!"

"Then I grew restless," Kiaku continued. "Despite the ache in my lungs, I rode south into the lands of the Crane."

"You what... ?" Ishikawa exclaimed. "That was a dangerous thing to do. You might have been killed. Even with the Phoenix helping them, the Crane could be overpowered by Hoturi's army any day."

"I saw Hoturi's undead burn two villages near Kyuden Doji. The Crane couldn't stop them, and the Phoenix were little help. The Phoenix are brave, and their shugenja are resourceful—but there are only a handful of them."

"Did you see Hoturi himself?"

"No, but I met many people who had seen him commanding the undead hoards."

Ishikawa crossed his arms over his chest. "I have trouble believing it. That's not the Doji Hoturi I know."

An ironic grin flashed on Kiaku's handsome face. "I'm sure the empress would say the same thing about Yogo Junzo," he said. He stopped walking for a moment and looked to the sky. Somehow, it seemed less blue than when he had left to recover from his wounds, scarcely seven weeks ago.

"What else did you see?"

"More than you want to know, Brother," Kiaku said. "After seeing the Crane lands, I rode south, being careful to stay out of sight. The Lion are sitting on their haunches, happy to let Hoturi destroy his own people. They sweep in behind the undead army, picking over the scraps like vultures. They've hated the Crane for so long, it's poisoned their judgment."

"Matsu Tsuko would let the world go to Jigoku if it would rid her of her enemies," Ishikawa said.

Kiaku nodded and sighed. "Hai. I think so, too. The Crab feel the same way. They're holed up behind their walls, massing for war.

"You rode that far south?"

"I needed to."

"In Shinsei's name, why?" Ishikawa asked. "Why did you go on this crazy errand?"

"I needed to see for myself what was happening. I'm tired of court; tired of the empress' intrigues; tired of rumors and secondhand reports; tired of these white walls. I want to do more."

"As do I," Ishikawa said. "But it's futile. Our duty is with the emperor. Unless Hoturi marches against Otosan Uchi itself, there's not much we can do."

Kiaku looked at the grass. The thin blades had already begun to turn brown and brittle. "Not much we can do as long as we stay here," he said. He sighed. "Sometimes, I think the Unicorn have the right idea."

"The Unicorn?" Ishikawa scoffed. "I think they'd rather protect peasants than defend Otosan Uchi."

"Can you blame them?" Kiaku asked. "Peasants tend the land, make the earth grow, harvest the food, weave the cloth. What do we do here except wait for orders from a dying boy, or dote on the whim of an empress nursing her hatred for those who killed her husband and son?"