Spirit's Princess (18 page)

Read Spirit's Princess Online

Authors: Esther Friesner

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #People & Places, #Asia, #Historical, #Ancient Civilizations

BOOK: Spirit's Princess
7.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Not yet,” the shaman said dryly.

“Do you think this is
funny
?” Mama snapped at her.

“I haven’t decided what I think about this at all,” Yama replied, calm as still water. “If I’m going to help Himiko, I need information, not exaggeration.”

“I’m not exaggerating!” Mama slapped the ground.

“My own eyes tell me that’s not so. The girl does go out. I see her helping you and her stepmothers in the paddies every day.”

“Fine, yes, true,” Mama said grudgingly. “She still does her chores, and works in the fields, but it’s not like before. She used to be so enthusiastic about helping us, even when the task was difficult or tedious or grimy. Now she only does what she’s told when she’s told to do it. Once she’s done, unless we give her another job, she goes straight home and just
sits
again.”

“Some parents would be grateful for that kind of obedience,” Yama said without a flicker of emotion.

“Well,
I’m
not!” Mama cried. “And on top of everything, there’s something I’ve noticed that’s very strange.…” She hesitated.

“What’s strange? Go on, tell me.”

“Well, it’s as if … as if she isn’t really there. Her hands move, her legs move, she answers when you speak to her, but otherwise it’s … it’s like talking to a doll.”

“I see.” Yama nodded and turned her penetrating eyes from Mama to me. “You should go now.” I started to get to my feet. “Not you,” came the crisp command. “Your mother’s the one I want out of here. You’re staying.” I plopped down again like a cast-off bundle of clothes.

Mama stood up. There was a faint trace of hope in her
expression. “Should I wait outside, or do you want me to come back for her in a while, Lady Yama?”

“Neither. Himiko is going to remain here with me.”

“Oh?” Mama’s voice wobbled. “All … all right. Do you want me to have someone fetch her when it’s time for dinner, or will you just send her home?”


If
I think she should go home, she’ll be able to find her own way. But as for
when
that will be—Don’t bother cooking this girl’s dinner for a long time.” She studied Mama’s shocked expression and added, “Have someone bring her bedroll. That’s all I won’t be able to provide for her. Let it be a woman who does that.”

Mama turned her head and gazed at me, her yearning eyes on the verge of tears. “Lady Yama—” Our shaman’s name was hoarse on her tongue. “Lady Yama, I respect your knowledge. You speak to the spirits of this world and the world of the dead. Your arts have brought the gods’ favor to this village. I don’t question your wisdom, but … but is this the only way to heal her? To keep her here for so long that even you can’t tell me when she’ll come home again?”

Yama’s thin-lipped mouth softened into a compassionate smile. Standing, she took my mother’s hand between both of hers. “My dear friend, don’t tell me you fear for Himiko while she’s under my roof? No place is safer. Remember, I was there the day she was born. I brought her into this world more than once, and I witnessed the moment when the spirits set their mark on her. I have every reason to protect her. I want to say that she’s even more special to me than to you, but you’d probably knock me down for that, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re right, I would.
Hard
.” Mama smiled, and the two women shared a laugh.

Yama clasped Mama’s shoulders. “Trust me. I won’t fail her, or you.”

“I know.” Mama sighed. “It’s only that—Please, Lady Yama, do all you can to heal her quickly. If she stays here too long, you know that my husband will drag her out of here before she’s well and forbid me to bring her back, and what will become of her if she’s still like this?”

The shaman made a scornful sound. “He wouldn’t dare. He’s afraid I’ll find a way to bring
her
back.” She cackled. “That would serve him right, eh? But it would be hard times for the whole clan as well if Lady Tsuki walked among us again.”

“The gods forbid it,” Mama mumbled. She thanked the shaman profusely, promised to send Emi with my bedroll, and left.

Yama sat beside me and cocked her head. She looked as if she were settling down to scrutinize me in mute contemplation, but almost immediately she announced, “All right, girl, I’ll give you three. If you want more, you’ll have to earn them.”

“I—What?” I was taken so strongly by surprise that it jerked me out of my sealed world of misery.

“Oho, so it talks!” Yama looked pleased. “Good, good, that’s one thing I won’t have to worry about.”

“Three
what
?” I asked.

“Mmm, and listen to
that:
she’s actually still able to be
interested
in something. Interested enough to be annoyed with me for keeping her in the dark. Dolls don’t do that, do
they? Even better!” She rubbed her hands together. “There’s still a spark in you, Himiko. It’s tiny now, but with the spirits’ help, I’ll fan it into a flame!”

Our shaman must have set a spell to work on me because her cryptic words roused me from my listlessness enough to spread my hands and protest, “Lady Yama, I don’t understand.”

She leaned forward until we were so close that I could see every mark the years had made on her face. “No, but I do, little one,” she said in a voice so full of sympathy that it seemed as though my pain were her own. “I didn’t need your mother to come here and tell me that something grave’s been troubling you. I’ve known that a long time. I’ve been watching you for longer than you know, ever since the day you were born. I’ve watched you, and I watch this village. That’s my job and my calling. The spirits wouldn’t let me rest if I didn’t walk the borderlands between the Matsu and the darkness. But sometimes the darkness slips past me and comes to rest
here
.” She tapped my chest gently. “What is it that’s turned you into a living ghost, child? Tell me your grief.”

I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m just—I’m just tired.”

She sighed and sat back on her heels, gaunt hands resting on her thighs. “Himiko, my life has taught me that we can win nearly every battle, but only if we know what we’re fighting for. When fears and sorrows cling to us and drag us down, we have to call them by their true names if we ever hope to break their hold and defeat them. I can’t do that for you, and I can’t compel you to do that until you’re ready. That’s why I told your mother you’d stay here for as long as
needful. I didn’t tell her that only you could determine how long that will be.

“I said I’d give you
three
, and you want to know what I mean by that. I give you permission to ask me three
questions
, Himiko. Ask anything, and if I have the answer, I’ll give it freely and honestly.” She paused for a moment, then raised her brows and smiled. “Ah, if you could only see your face now. Such disappointment! Until I told you what I meant by
three
, my gift could have been anything: three pretty necklaces, three magical charms, three dragons! Well, that’s good, that’s a start. You can’t be disappointed if you’ve forgotten how to hope. And now—” She slapped her thighs. “Now ask me anything.”

I considered her words. Part of me wanted to go back to my detached existence, not caring about anything in a world where caring always seemed to end in loss. However, a different part of me was … curious. There were many things I’d just overheard in the conversation between the shaman and my mother that had aroused my interest. When I cast my mind even further back, I recalled other times I’d heard hints about the same mysteries, particularly what was said about—

“—my birth, Lady Yama,” I said. “You once told me that when I was born, it was a day of … of …” I couldn’t recall her exact words.

“Impossibilities?” the shaman suggested.

“Yes! But you wouldn’t tell me anything more. And just now, you said that you were there when the spirits put their mark on me. What did you mean by all that?”

Yama pressed her palms together and touched her
fingertips to her lips. “Mmmm, a good question. Let me ask one of you before I answer: Have they come back to you at last, child?”

“They?” I echoed.

“Forgive me, that question was ill put. How can the spirits ever leave us? I should have asked you if—no,
when
—when did you open your eyes and heart and mind to them once more?”

She knows
, I thought. Memories of my lonely wanderings swept over me like a great hawk’s wing, but there was no menace in its shadow. Once again I heard the fox speak to me, and the deer, and then all the other voices that dwelled in every tree, every stone, every rushing stream and quiet pool. I stared at Yama, my blood pounding so forcefully that my whole body began to shake. I couldn’t tell if I was trembling with fear or joy.
She knows!

And even though I was convinced that there was no need to tell the shaman what she already understood, I closed my eyes and let the whole story fly from my lips. When I was done, she put her arms around me and said nothing. I don’t know how long she held me like that, the way Mama did when I needed comfort. She was still holding me close when Emi came into the shaman’s house with my bedroll.

Yama released me to speak with my stepmother. Apparently, Emi had some business of her own with the shaman, because the two of them drew away from me to confer in low voices. I waited patiently for them to finish. I hoped Emi would leave soon; I’d revealed so much
to
Yama, and that felt good, but I still needed to talk
with
her about what I’d
experienced on my journey. I also wanted the answer to the first of the three questions she’d granted me. What
was
it that I didn’t know about my birth? How did it involve the spirits? How had they marked me?

Probably with a curse
, I thought, resigned. Given my friendless state and how thoroughly I’d managed to destroy Aki’s brotherly affection, it struck me as the only likely answer. All that remained was for Yama to confirm it as soon as my stepmother was out the door.

But Emi still delayed her departure, and Yama didn’t seem inclined to hurry her away. The shaman gathered an array of small clay pots from the packed-earth shelf that ran along the wall and sprinkled different amounts of their contents into a wide-mouthed bowl, then picked up a spouted vessel and poured a trickle of water over the mixture, chanting all the time. Emi cast an apologetic glance my way and shrugged as if to say
This wasn’t my idea
, but we both knew that was a lie. When Yama commanded Emi to hold her face over the bowl and drink a handful of the liquid, I took petty satisfaction in hearing her gag on it.

Go home, Emi
, I thought.
Why did you have to bother Lady Yama with your problems now? You’re keeping her from answering my question!

I tilted my head back and stared at the little animal skulls again. Where were the spirits that had once lived as that rabbit, that badger, that fox? They must be lingering nearby. Where else would they go? I closed my eyes and wondered if I’d be able to sense their presence, or if they’d speak to me the way the living creatures had done. As I waited in my self-made darkness, I heard Yama begin a slow,
rhythmic chant. Metal struck metal in a deep, repetitive chime.

She’s calling to the gods
, I thought. I didn’t know what Emi wanted from them, but my prayer was simple enough:
Go home, go home
, please
go home!

When I opened my eyes, my plea had been answered: Emi was gone, but only because I’d fallen asleep in the midst of Yama’s incantation and now it was morning.

I sat up yawning. I discovered that I was in my bedroll and my clothing was laid out at my feet, just the way it would have been in our house. Yama lay nearby, curled up on the bare ground. Snoring gurgled and bubbled from her throat. The sound made me laugh out loud.

“Is that all it takes to heal you? The chance to make fun of an old woman?” The shaman sat up and spoke so abruptly it was like a snake’s strike.

“I’m sorry, Lady Yama,” I said, ashamed of myself.

“Don’t be. The more we laugh, the better we live. It’s good to hear you laugh again, Himiko. You haven’t done that since your brother turned his back on you.”

“How did you—?”

Yama waved away my question. “I told you that I watch this village, didn’t I? I don’t know what happened between you and Aki, but the results are plain to see. If your mother weren’t willfully blind to the ills under her own roof, she wouldn’t have needed to bring you to me. I suppose she’s one of those people who’s convinced that closing your eyes makes the demons vanish.” She shook her head. “Tsk. There’s no mystery about what’s made you curl up like a grub under a log. The whole clan whispers about it, though
they’re all quite careful not to do it where your father can overhear. Tell me,
has
he noticed?”

I bowed my head and didn’t reply.

“That’s what I thought,” the shaman said. “Although I’ll wager my finest mirror that he’s only acting as though nothing’s happened, nothing to be
too
concerned about. Everything will be all right if he leaves it to fix itself. He and your mother are well matched that way. Show him a shattered jar and he’ll say, ‘Oh, it can still hold water. It just has to
make an effort.’
” She laughed without mirth.

She was right. The nearest Father had come to acknowledging that something was wrong was to tell Mama how pleased he was that Aki was finally acting like a man, staid and serious, and to ask her,
When do you think Himiko will snap out of this ridiculous
mood
of hers?

I looked up at the shaman. “I miss him,” I said in a broken voice. “I miss him so much! Lady Yama, I beg you, make things right between us again. Call on the spirits, cast a spell, do whatever it will take to make my brother care for me again.”

“Is that what it will take to make you a girl and not a living ghost?” she asked. There was no mockery in her tone. I nodded vigorously, which seemed to gratify her. “Then I give you my word that it will happen. But enchantments to change a person’s heart are difficult to perform. If I work alone, unaided, it will take a very long time.”

Other books

First Night: by Anna Antonia
French Kiss by Susan Johnson
Glory Road by Robert A Heinlein
The Charade by Rosado, Evelyn
Hate Fuck Part Three by Ainsley Booth
The Early Ayn Rand by Ayn Rand
The Heather Moon by Susan King
The Feathery by Bill Flynn
Foreign Influence by Brad Thor