The Initiate Brother Duology (114 page)

Tadamoto was being sculled across the Lake of the Autumn Crane’s calm waters in one of the elegant craft used by officials of the Island Palace. As was often the case, the young colonel came to his audience with the Emperor carrying written reports and scrolls, not all of which bore good news.

As well as official writings Tadamoto also carried, hidden in his sleeve, a letter from Osha. It was a conciliatory letter, full of apologies for offenses she had not committed, washed in sadness, her pain tearing at his heart. They must not give up, she had written, their love would survive if only they believed it would. So he tried to believe.

Tadamoto also tried to push this letter out of his mind as it would undoubtedly affect his ability to serve his Emperor—something that could not be allowed now that civil war was all but upon them.

The sampan came alongside a stone dock built in the shape of the platform one found at the foot of a ship’s ladder. Tadamoto mounted the steps to the “deck” where the secretary greeted him with a low bow. Crossing to the quarterdeck on his knees, Tadamoto bowed at the foot of the stairs and waited to be acknowledged.

The Emperor pored over a long scroll, completely absorbed. The ruler’s robe of yellow embroidered with a flight of cranes among clouds created a disturbing contrast. Although his garb was perfectly appropriate for the season—light of spirit—the Emperor’s face was drawn and pale like that of a man who had not known a night of peace in many, many days. Tadamoto kept his eyes cast down, concentrating on the wood-grain that had been carved into the planks of the stone deck.

Letting his arms drop, the Emperor laid the scroll across his legs. “Colonel.”

Tadamoto bowed again.

“Let us begin with your news. My patience has worn away to nothing and pleasantries have become most unpleasant. What do we know today?”

Tadamoto unrolled a small scroll—notes for this audience. “Shonto’s flotilla is three days north of Denji Gorge, Sire, and has increased its speed considerably in the last few days. The first refugees have crossed the border
of our own province and they will begin to arrive in the capital in numbers within a few days. I have detailed officials and guards to deal with this influx.

“Our own army has reached twenty-five thousand in number, Sire, and will be thirty thousand before the next moon.” Tadamoto lowered the scroll. “I have reports here, Emperor, if you wish to read them.” He tapped the pile of rolled paper. “I estimate that Lord Shonto could be within the border of Dentou within fourteen days if he continues to travel at his present speed. There has been a report that Shonto’s fleet is preceded by a barge flying the plague banner. This report has not been substantiated and even if it proves true it would appear to be a ruse to keep the canal open before Shonto’s fleet. Nonetheless the rumor precedes the flotilla like a bow wave.”

The Emperor shook his head. “Shonto would think of such a thing. It is entirely without honor but effective, no doubt.” The Emperor lifted the scroll he had been reading. “I have received my own reports. Prince Wakaro has sent this, a complete report of the military situation prepared by Shonto’s staff. My son claims to have seen a barbarian army of one hundred thousand and it is accompanied by a letter written by the captain of the Prince’s guard—a man we selected together, Colonel. He, too, claims to have seen this army.” The Emperor set the scroll aside. “My son is not a warrior and easily duped, but from the captain of his guard I expected more. It is most curious.”

Tadamoto nodded. “Excuse me, Sire….”

“Speak, Colonel, this is no time to be shy.”

“At your suggestion, I sent the most reliable men I have north to assess this situation. According to their count—they saw the barbarian army with their own eyes—the force pursuing Shonto is no more than thirty thousand and perhaps less. Shonto’s own army appears to number between twenty and twenty-five thousand, a significant number of these being Imperial Guards. Alongside the shinta blossom fly the banners of both Prince Wakaro and my brother Katta. It grieves me to bring you this news, Emperor.”

The Emperor looked toward the white walls of the Island Palace as though he meditated upon their form. But his breathing did not exhibit the controlled rhythm of meditation and his hands would not lie still on his knees. “Betrayed,” the Emperor almost whispered, “betrayed by my own son and by the man I treated as a son.” Picking up his sword, he laid it gently across his knees. “Is this army in league with Motoru, do you think?”

“My own men believe there have been real battles with the barbarians though reports that Lord Shonto scorched the earth as he passed south appear to be unfounded. They saw no evidence of this. So it seems unlikely. There truly is a barbarian invasion but not the hordes some would like us to believe.”

“Two invading armies, one on the heels of the other.” The Emperor toyed with his sword. “Betrayed by my own son,” he said again, his voice filled with disbelief and pain.

The son you sent north to share in the fate of Lord Shonto,
Tadamoto thought.

T
HE BARGES ALMOST never stopped now and though it meant the countryside was left untouched by the devastation formerly wrought upon it, it also meant that Shimeko could not get off the boat to walk on the bank. This made it very easy to avoid Sister Morima and all of the influences from her former life. But she was shut up on the ship among people who were very different from her—the three ladies from the capital and their attendants. It was difficult for her.

The Plum Blossom Winds filled the air with clouds of petals from the plum groves planted along the canal. When a gust came, standing on the deck of the boat was like being in a warm snowstorm, so thick were the petals in the air. The canal was almost a white waterway and the decks of the ships were constantly needing to be swept clear, for a rain shower would render a petal-covered deck dangerously slick.

Shimeko had given up brushing the petals from her robe despite the fact that on the deep blue they were very apparent. The robe had been a gift from Lady Nishima, one of the lady’s own, no doubt, and though it was a cast-off it had obviously been worn infrequently for the silk was as new as the day it had come from the loom. Having seen the size of Lady Nishima’s wardrobe, Shimeko was not surprised that signs of wear would not be found on the lady’s clothing—and Lady Nishima often complained that she had left the capital with hardly anything to wear!

Shimeko smiled. Such a statement would have offended the former nun only a few weeks before, but now it only made her shake her head and laugh.
The Lady Nishima Fanisan Shonto was difficult to dislike and, despite having been raised in the greatest luxury, could not be said to have been spoiled by it. She was a Lady of a Great House, there was no doubt, but Lady Nishima was a person of substance and accomplishment and depth. Shimeko could not dislike her.

Shimeko turned away from the rail, leaning there with the breeze at her back. Pulling her shawl down onto her shoulders, she enjoyed the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair; though it was still short by the standards of lay-women, it was longer than Shimeko had ever known it.

The decision Shimeko made was a difficult one. Although she had found Lady Nishima admirable in many ways, there was this other matter which the former nun found very disturbing. Shimeko was almost certain that Lady Nishima had more than once spent the entire night alone with Brother Shuyun.

The young woman looked off at the white-capped mountains rising along the western horizon. Having little experience of the world, she did not know how such news would be received by the population at large. What would Lord Shonto think of such a thing? Sister Morima always claimed that the Brothers were entirely corrupt, but Shimeko never suspected she had meant corrupt in ways such as this. And Brother Shuyun! To think that many of the Sisters hoped he was the Teacher who was spoken of.

A vision of the Faceless Lovers carved into the cliff of Denji Gorge came to her. This was the subject of Lady Nishima’s curiosity. Shimeko brushed petals from her robe unconsciously. Was it possible that this sculpture was not a heresy? Was Lady Nishima aware of things that Shimeko was not?

Sister Morima had also claimed there were things written in the Sacred Scrolls of the Perfect Master that were not included in any copies of these texts—things the Brotherhood wished to keep hidden. Botahara had taken a bride, everyone knew that, but when had he attained Enlightenment? That was the question that had once caused a war. The bride was not spoken of in the writings of Botahara and his disciples only mentioned her in passing. Shimeko shook her head. Despite having left the Sisterhood and rejected its doctrine, she still found Lady Nishima’s relations with Shuyun disturbing and a part of her feared this might be jealousy.

There had been a night when Shimeko had heard Lady Nishima cry out and though the former nun would admit she knew little of such things, a cry of ecstasy was difficult to mistake. Her own body had responded to this
sound in a manner that was surprising and her imagination had…well, it had not been under her control.

A servant appeared at the head of the companionway and, seeing Shimeko at the rail, crossed to her.

“Lady Nishima awaits you, Shimeko-sum,” the woman said.

The young woman replaced her shawl, nodded her thanks, and proceeded to the stairs, controlling her nervousness with care.

Bowing at the door to Lady Nishima’s cabin, she entered at a smile from her mistress.

“Shimeko-sum, it is a pleasure to see you.” Nishima gestured to a cushion. “You are well, I trust.”

“I am well, Lady Nishima. It is kind of you to ask.”

“Are the petals on the wind not a most impressive sight today?”

Shimeko nodded. “I have just come from the deck.” And then she realized that not only were her robes covered in petals, but it appeared a small snowstorm had focused its efforts around her. “Please excuse me, Lady Nishima.” She was obviously dismayed. “And all over your gift to me.”

Laughing with great delight, Nishima reached out and touched Shimeko’s hand. “These blossoms complement the robe beautifully. As for this,” she waved her hand at the petals on the mat, “I would like nothing better than to have my chambers covered in plum blossoms, like the floor of a grove. Would that not be charming?” She laughed again.

Shimeko smiled, not quite reassured.

“I was told, Shimeko-sum, that there was some matter you wished to speak of?”

Nodding, the former nun gathered her courage. “It is not my intention to appear ungrateful for your favor, Lady Nishima; serving the Shonto House has been a great honor. There appears to be a matter that has arisen which is more suited to my particular skills. I have come to ask if I may be released from your service so that I might tend to the sick aboard the plague ship.” She bowed when she finished and kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

For a moment Nishima did not respond but only looked at the woman who had come to be a trusted secretary. “I regret to hear that you wish to leave, Shimeko-sum, for your skills are far beyond those of anyone who has served me in the same capacity. Will the Brothers allow you to assist them? Is there not a certain antagonism to the Sisterhood, not to mention great secrecy about the ways of healing?”

“As you say, Lady Nishima, the two Botahist Orders are not allies, but I am no longer a Sister and Brother Shuyun has said that the Brothers’ need is great. I may assist and learn little or nothing of their secrets, I am sure.”

“And you would be in no danger from this illness?”

“Certainly not, Lady Nishima. I am no longer a Sister, but I have not forgotten all that I learned. It is also true that the Brothers could cure me if I were to become ill—though I assure you this is next to impossible.” She paused and then said quietly. “Your concern touches me.”

Nishima arranged the hem of her robes. “When you first came to me, you spoke of a desire to serve the Shonto Spiritual Advisor, Brother Shuyun. If you go to care for the sick, you will be more removed from Brother Shuyun than you are presently. Does this not concern you?”

Shimeko nodded reflexively. “I do not know, Lady Nishima, I…. There are sick who I may offer help to. In a time such as this, it seems that I must do what I am able.” She shrugged.

“I see. Have the Brothers agreed to accept your assistance, Shimeko-sum?”

The young woman shook her head.

“If they agree to allow you to assist them, I will release you upon one condition—you will send messages to assure me that you are well.”

Shimeko bowed. “Certainly, my lady.”

Nishima forced a smile. “You are no doubt anxious to proceed with this matter. Please inform me of the Brothers’ decision. Certainly you are welcome to stay with me if this plan is untenable.”

“I thank you, my lady.” She met Nishima’s eye for the briefest second. “It has been an honor to serve you.”

With that she bowed and retreated to the door, receiving a last reassuring smile from the young aristocrat as she went. Shimeko was surprised at the feeling of emptiness this decision left. She had almost embarrassed herself in conversation with Lady Nishima, so touched was she by the woman’s concern.