The Initiate Brother Duology (102 page)

Sotura picked up the letter, read through the first few lines by the light of his lamp, and then very slowly crumpled the paper into a ball. He was not certain that any action his superiors took with the willful Initiate would not drive this young man further away. Even I have begun to distrust my superior’s judgment, Sotura realized, and he made a sign to Botahara.

The monk remembered the interview with his former student. Even sitting as far as I was, Sotura thought, I could feel the strength of his chi. I have never known its like.

T
HE HUNTING PARTY followed a winding road down the hillside, riding slowly in the spring sunshine. It had not been a successful day as the tiger the villagers claimed to have seen could not be found. The Emperor was disappointed. They had shot some game birds, certainly, but when one has set out after tiger, pheasant is a poor substitute. Still, it was a beautiful day and Akantsu II, Emperor of Wa, was coming out of his sullen mood.

Many varieties of cherry and plum flowered along the roadside and scattered their petals like a snowfall across the soft ground of spring. It would not be long now until the Plum Blossom Wind would perform the feat it was named for, stripping the trees of their petals and carrying them aloft until the wind seemed laden with blowing snow.

The rivers, too, would be covered in fallen blossoms, for the people of Wa loved to plant their flowering trees along the waterways—the sight of the perfect blossoms borne toward the sea was symbolic of Botahist thought. Over the centuries so many poems had been written about the Plum Blossom Winds that it was said nothing new could ever be written about them—though that stopped no one.

The Emperor rode a gray mare of the same line as the animals used in the Ceremony of Gray Horses. Unlike the Hanama who seldom hunted, the Yamaku men rode and rode well. Perhaps a family that had won its way to the Throne only a decade before was not yet willing to give up the skills that had brought them their victory, so sword and bow and lance and horse were
thought of as essential disciplines in the Imperial family. Akantsu was a fine horseman and skilled with a sword, though his sons, under the influence of the Empress, had never achieved the mastery of their father.

The Emperor’s hunting garb was plain by the standards of the lords of the inner provinces, though it bore trim in Imperial Crimson which more than made up for its lack of style. As he had hoped to meet a tiger that day, the Emperor’s garb incorporated a certain amount of lacquered and laced armor, although light and incomplete by battle standards. A dragon-crested helmet swung from the saddle, and the Son of Heaven carried his own sword in his sash—not the ancient sword of office but a blade that had seen many battles and duels.

It was well known among the courtiers that when Akantsu wanted to show displeasure to one of the many officials who attended him he would sometimes invite them on a hunt. It was invariably quite unpleasant, for few of the higher officials rode, having spent their entire lives caught up in the functions of the government and court—and, of course, in the capital, as in much of Wa, one usually traveled by boat. The Emperor reserved this treatment for officials who had done something mildly annoying. To cross the Emperor seriously would mean postings in the outer provinces or far worse.

Today there were no victims in the party. A distant cousin from Chou rode near the Emperor though they spoke little. The Son of Heaven’s earlier mood had quickly curtailed attempts at conversation.

A dark feathered hawk floated across the road, disappearing into the cloud of white blossoms and when the Emperor turned his eyes back to the road he saw a column of Imperial Guards appear around a bend, led by Jaku Tadamoto. The Emperor’s men made way for their acting commander, who dismounted quickly and bowed before his ruler.

“Colonel.” The Emperor smiled, much to the relief of his party. “Your arrival was foretold. Only seconds ago a hawk I believe was a Choka passed before us.” He turned to his cousin. “Almost an apparition, wouldn’t you agree?”

His cousin, Lord Yamaku, a small man perhaps a dozen years older than the Emperor, most definitely agreed. He nodded his head vigorously. More than anything else, Lord Yamaku resembled a successful merchant. He had that wealthy, ill-bred manner and dress that bad taste damned many with in the Imperial Court. Not that the man’s taste was glaringly
awful, but among people whose standards were strict and whose imagination was limited he stood out like a farmer in a Sonsa troupe.

“The Choka hawk has proven to be well chosen, then,” Tadamoto said. The Emperor had given the Jaku House the symbol, raising their status considerably among the new Houses.

The Emperor smiled again. “It is kind of you to ride out to meet us, Colonel. I intend to stop at the shrine for the view. Would you accompany us?”

“I would be more than honored. May I ask, Sire, how went the hunt?”

A cloud drifted across the Emperor’s face, but then a wan smile replaced it. “I believe the tiger we hunted today was mythical. Or a master of subterfuge. We had beaters out for several rih and managed to move nothing. And Lord Yamaku had so wanted to use his new bow.”

“I am sorry to learn this, Sire. Tigers make poor subjects, sometimes—ignoring their duties, leaving without being dismissed, and eating perfectly dutiful subjects. I don’t know what can be done about them.”

The Emperor laughed. “Yes, this one is said to have eaten a loyal woodsman. A beastly thing to do when I have any number of courtiers and officials I could willingly spare. Most inconsiderate.” He laughed again and the others nearby, deeming the Emperor’s mood changed, laughed as well.

Turning off the road they followed a trail out onto a rounded promontory where a small shrine to the plague-dead stood. Knowing the Emperor’s opinions on the matter, no one made signs to Botahara. They passed on to the lookout point where the Emperor and his party dismounted.

“String your new bow, cousin,” the Emperor said pleasantly. “Tadamoto-sum is an appreciator of fine weapons.”

An archery contest was quickly organized among the officers of the guard using Lord Yamaku’s bow. Much laughter accompanied the Emperor’s suggestion that an officer donate his very stylish hat for a target. This was fixed to a nearby tree and the Emperor took up a seat on a rock, flanked by Tadamoto and his cousin as judges.

Lord Yamaku did not join the contest as it would have been very impolite for anyone to best a member of the Imperial family and Tadamoto was the guard Commander, so a similar etiquette applied.

Each contestant shot three arrows and though not every one found its mark, the hat was soon well ventilated indeed. The archers could not be said to be remarkable in their skill, but they were well matched so the contest was close and therefore more enjoyable for all concerned.

Once the contest had drawn everyone’s attention, the Emperor turned to Tadamoto. “I trust you did not ride all this way to view the blossoms, Colonel?” he said quietly.

Tadamoto nodded. “I have received a report from the north.” He searched for the right words. “It is a disturbing report, Emperor.”

The Emperor nodded. He watched a young officer make a shot and applauded the result. Leaning over, he spoke quietly to his cousin who bowed quickly. The Emperor nodded to Tadamoto and the two men rose. All present dropped to their knees until the Emperor was several paces away.

Walking to the lookout, the Emperor leaned against the railing that protected the foolish from the steep drop. Behind him the land stretched off to the Imperial Capital and the Lake of the Lost Dragon. The river wound its way toward the sea and as far as Tadamoto could see the landscape was decorated with flowering trees. Even the distant Mountain of the Pure Spirit seemed to be covered in a haze of white.

“Colonel.” The Emperor nodded for Tadamoto to continue.

“I have a report that Lord Shonto has left Seh and proceeds south on the canal accompanied by an army.”

The Emperor nodded calmly as though he had not just heard an announcement of civil war—civil war
with the
Shonto.

“A missive has arrived bearing the seal of the Governor of Seh. I broke all protocol and brought it with me, Sire.”

The Emperor nodded again. “There is more?”

Tadamoto nodded. “Reports have been received that a large barbarian army has crossed the border of Seh. I do not consider these substantiated at this time, however.”

“The missive?”

Tadamoto signaled one of his guards, and a small box was brought forward. Opening this, Tadamoto removed the official letter and, to the guardsman’s surprise, the Emperor reached out and took it directly from the Colonel’s hand. Looking at the seal, the Emperor broke it and opened the letter with no show of haste. He read.

Tadamoto pretended to admire the view. It was impolite to look directly at the Emperor for more than a few seconds and, under the circumstances, Tadamoto thought even a few seconds might not be advisable.

The Emperor lowered the scroll. He looked off at some unseen distance
for a moment and then handed the paper to Tadamoto. “Read this,” he said, his tone mild.

The Emperor had no compunctions about watching Tadamoto’s face as he read and the young man found as he finished the letter that he was being stared at.

“He makes no mention that it was his sworn duty to protect the borders of the Province of Seh.”

Tadamoto nodded, not needing to ask who “he” referred to.

The Emperor turned and looked out at the view, his hands resting lightly on the rail. For some moments he stood like that in silence and when he spoke he did not turn his head.

“We did not think he would be able to find the support for a civil war—not in Seh. He fails to mention how large a force accompanies him south?”

“That is true, Emperor.”

“A significant oversight in the former governor’s report. It is not possible that Motoru has raised the force he needs in Seh.” This did not seem to be a question, so Tadamoto said nothing. The “thunk” of arrows striking wood punctuated the silence. “How goes the raising of our army, Colonel?”

“Well, Sire, but I will redouble our efforts now.”

The Emperor nodded. “We will do more. We must prepare a plan to meet Shonto’s army—somewhere beyond the capital. There is no telling who will flock to his banner once he enters Dentou Province.” The Emperor fell silent again. “Where on the canal is my useless son?”

“He has not yet crossed the border into Chiba Province, Sire.” Tadamoto brushed white petals from the small dragons embroidered over the breast on his uniform.

The Emperor’s shoulders went stiff. “Not yet in Chiba?”

“Yes, Sire.”

The Emperor snorted. “I will send a letter to the Prince in my own hand: an Imperial directive to proceed north with all haste and relieve Shonto of the command of the army. He is then to stop any barbarian invasion he is able to find and send Shonto to the capital under guard. How do you think the former governor will react to that?”

“To do anything but obey the son of the Emperor, Sire…would be a foolish mistake.”

“Yes, but it would do away with this pose of protector of the Empire. He will be a rebel and called one.”