The Initiate Brother Duology (129 page)

Down the long hallway he saw lamps and the black of guards before a door, indicating the Emperor was not unprotected. Akantsu is a fine swordsman, Tadamoto reminded himself, he is never entirely unprotected. Loosening his blade in his scabbard, Tadamoto started down the hall.

As he approached the guards before the Emperor’s chambers, Tadamoto heard the pounding of boots on the stairs behind. Turning, he saw a single black-clad guard crest the stairs with a leap and come running down the hall toward him. Drawing his sword, Tadamoto signaled the guards, who rose and drew their weapons as well.

Jaku Katta slid to a stop on the polished floor, facing his brother. He reached up and removed his helmet and stood regarding Tadamoto.

“It is my hope the gods have brought us here with the same purpose, brother.”

Tadamoto did not lower his sword. “Do not do this, Katta-sum.” He swallowed with difficulty. “Do not stain our name with this crime.”

“He is a traitor, brother. You know this is the truth. Wa deserves a sovereign who understands honor. Let me pass.”

The sound of running feet in the stairwell.

Jaku did not look back.

“They are my men, Tadamoto-sum. You can do nothing. Stand aside.”

The colonel shook his head. “I cannot, brother.”

Jaku nodded. Very slowly he tossed his helmet aside and it rattled on the floor, sliding to a stop against the wall.

*   *   *

Turning toward the Emperor, Osha removed a second robe, the sheer silk wafting to the floor like a falling banner. She could not stop the tears, but she did not sob. Forcing her feet to move forward, she stepped out into the cool night.

The Emperor watched her with some interest. He reached out to her as she approached and she took his hands and pressed them to her, his touch fueling her resolve.

She stood looking at the confusion in the Emperor’s face for a second, realizing she could not let the instant pass. “Tadamoto-sum,” she whispered, “was my lover.”

Saying this, Osha pushed the Emperor, her Sonsa training giving her surprising strength. As he fell back, the Emperor’s grip tightened on one of her hands and she grabbed the rail with the other, pulling against his great weight. Groping with one hand, he grasped at the balustrade, cursing her, but Osha let go of the rail and caught this hand before he could save himself. And then, without hesitation, she followed him over the railing, her motion graceful as though she took flight.

*   *   *

Jaku drew his sword and faced his brother who stepped back immediately, his guard faltering. Men were in the hall behind, running. Butto Joda came to a position off to Jaku Katta’s right, stepping into the Tiger’s line of vision but staying out of reach of his sword.

“General Katta?” the youth said. “General Hojo is correct. This is a decision for Lord Shonto or the Great Council. I beg you reconsider.”

Jaku did not appear to hear. Lunging forward, he took the sword from Tadamoto’s hands so that it bounced off a post and fell to the floor.

Tadamoto faced the point of his brother’s blade, but his attention was drawn back over Katta’s shoulder. “Brother…” he said, lifting a hand to point.

That second’s warning saved Jaku’s life. The first Hajiwara guard’s blow missed Jaku’s neck, the blade cutting through armor and deep into the guardsman’s right arm. He raised the sword again as the Black Tiger stumbled aside. Tadamoto leapt in between and took the second blow on the side of his helmet, which drove him to the floor.

Jaku spun and landed a blow one-handed, accounting for one as the other Hajiwara men fell on him. The guardsman retreated, using a post to protect his injured right side. Lord Butto reached for his sword but, unexpectedly, a Hajiwara guard sprang at the young lord and drove the pommel of his sword into Butto’s face-mask, leaving him limp on the floor.

The two guards before the Emperor’s door held their places, swords at the ready. Jaku circled away from these men, unsure who they would side with. Someone else reached the stairhead and started down the hall.

“We will avenge Lord Hajiwara, General,” Narihira Chisato hissed, “for it was you who placed him in the path of Lord Shonto with lies and false promises.”

The injured Hajiwara man leapt at Jaku. As the guardsman cut him down, Narihira stepped in coolly, sword raised. The Black Tiger fell heavily to the
floor and did not move. Narihira raised his sword for the final stroke but found himself propelled across the room, hitting the floor and sliding to the feet of the guards at the Emperor’s door. One held the tip of his sword to Narihira’s throat, and the Hajiwara guard lay still.

*   *   *

Nishima arrived to see Shuyun literally toss the Hajiwara guard aside and then bend over Jaku Katta, who lay in a growing pool of blood. The monk made a sign to Botahara and rose, looking around.

“Is there no hope, Brother?” Nishima asked. She stood across the room, frozen in place.

Shuyun shook his head. “His spirit has fled, my lady. Jaku Katta is in the hands of the Perfect Master. May Botahara protect him.”

Shuyun crossed to Lord Butto who lay unmoving. Removing the youth’s helmet, the monk found his eyes open, only whites showing. Coming to stand beside him, Nishima laid her hand on Shuyun’s shoulder.

Katta is dead,
she thought, trying to make it seem possible. But why do I feel so little now when I believed I felt so strongly before?

“He breathes,” Shuyun said. “His life force is strong.”

“He was knocked down with a pommel, Brother,” one of the Imperial Guards said. “He cannot be badly hurt, I’m certain.”

“Please, Lady Nishima….” Shuyun took her hand and drew her down. “Watch Lord Butto.”

The monk then rose and went to the other fallen men as Hojo and the others came into the hall.

The other Hajiwara guards were dead, but Tadamoto had raised himself to one elbow, and propped himself there with visible effort.

“My brother?” Tadamoto said in a near whisper.

“Who is your brother, Colonel?” Shuyun asked.

“Katta,” he said with effort.

“Lie back, Colonel Jaku, you are injured,” Shuyun said. Softly he removed the ruin of the guardsman’s helmet.

Tadamoto shook him off when the monk reached out to probe the wound.

“My brother…” Tadamoto turned and saw the great, still form of Jaku Katta lying against the wall in a dark pool. Sobs racked him and he would let no one near.

Hojo stood looking on. He made a sign to Botahara.

“He intended to kill the Emperor, General Hojo,” Shuyun said. The monk
motioned at Narihira still lying at the feet of the two Imperial Guards. “It was Jaku Katta the Hajiwara men had vowed revenge against, not Butto Joda.”

“The Emperor is inside?” Hojo panted, motioning to the door with his sword.

The two Imperial Guards held their positions.

“We will not harm your Emperor,” General Hojo said. “Let us pass.”

One guard shook his head, pushing Narihira away with his foot.

Scrambling to his feet, the Hajiwara retainer joined the other party where Shonto guards pushed him to the rear.

Hojo motioned Shonto swordsmen forward.

Lady Nishima turned away and suddenly her cousin came and knelt beside her. The ringing of swords stopped abruptly and Hojo stepped up to the now unguarded door.

“Wait,” Tadamoto said, lurching to his feet. Supported by a man in Butto livery, he followed Hojo as he tried the door and found it unbarred.

Entering the room everyone stopped, searching the dim corners, looking for doors. The room was empty.

“He has hidden or made his escape,” Hojo said, driving his pommel into a gloved palm.

Waving at the balcony, Tadamoto moved forward. On the balustrade a torn scrap of silk wafted in the light breeze. The guard colonel stepped out onto the balcony, looking around, confused.

One of Hojo’s officers peered over the balcony and turned to his commander, inclining his head almost imperceptibly. The general hurried forward and Tadamoto did the same. A white form lay on the stones far below, a dark shadow at its side.

“There is our Emperor,” Hojo whispered. Beside him Tadamoto turned slowly and spiralled to the floor.

A Shonto officer pointed out beyond the north gate where a long line of torches snaked its way south.

“And there is Lord Shonto and his army,” Hojo said, his voice strangely quiet. “Inform Lady Nishima. She will have some good news this night.”

*   *   *

Standing inside the Gate of Serenity, Nishima held tightly to Kitsura’s arm. They almost leaned upon each other, their exhaustion was so great.

“Food,” Nishima whispered to Kitsura. “I will greet my father and then
food and perhaps a bath. If we are to escape or face a barbarian attack, let us do it fed and clean, and perhaps even rested.”

“I could sleep upon the cobbles,” Kitsura said.

“You did, cousin,” Nishima reminded her, but her lightness of mood was entirely false, in her heart she sent up a silent prayer:
bring him to me safely. He is good and wise. Bring him safely.

The gates were open and soldiers pushed back the crowds outside. They jostled and shouted and still called for the Emperor, his death not yet known, and then, suddenly, they cheered.

“That will be the hero, Komawara,” Kitsura said. “Imagine.”

Men on horses appeared in the dim light, framed by the great arch under the dark sweep of tile. Three men rode abreast, one in darkest blue, one in gray, and one in Shonto blue. Nishima let out a long sigh and another prayer to powers unnamed—a prayer of thanks.

Outside, the people in the streets fell utterly silent, and then Nishima heard a single voice—the sound of a woman crying. She found herself moving forward, Kitsura trying to restrain her. She shook off her cousin’s grip and continued. Komawara was dismounting now and the rider in Shonto blue also:
her stepbrother, Shokan.
And then she was running. Shokan saw the movement and turned toward her, his face black from dust and streaked with tears. Nishima felt her body stop, as though it obeyed commands from forces more powerful than her will.

Shonto’s personal guard came slowly through the gate bearing a bier of lances upon their shoulders and on it lay a form draped with a banner—the blue silk of the shinta blossom. Nishima felt her knees strike the ground. A cry of deepest agony tore at her throat. Then she felt hands lift her, and she pressed her face into the blue lacing of Shokan’s armor. Kitsura’s arm encircled her shoulder and she heard the soothing voice of Shuyun, chanting a prayer for the dead.

*   *   *

Nishima had not eaten, bathed, or slept. She sat in a strange room in the Imperial Palace turning a cold cup of cha compulsively between her hands. She stared off, deep into her memories, perhaps, and looked as if she would begin to sob again at any second.

Kitsura had left her for a few minutes, lured by a hot bath, and Shuyun was off seeing to the ceremony for her father. There was so little time; they
would have to perform the rites before dawn.
They’re going to burn him,
she thought, and this realization was like a blow to her heart.

A tap sounded on the door to the room and a maid’s face appeared—one of Nishima’s own maids!

“Tokiwa,” Nishima exclaimed, “how is it that you are here?”

“Steward Kamu brought us, my lady,” she bowed, hesitating, her eyes cast down. “I’m sorry, my lady.”

Nishima nodded. Her mouth formed the words,
thank you,
but no sound came.

“Lord Shonto and Steward Kamu wish to speak with you, Lady Nishima.”

“Please bring them to me,” she said. Perhaps their company will help, she thought.

The maid disappeared.

Seconds later Shokan and Kamu entered. They bowed and knelt on the mats.

“I have no cushions, I am sorry,” Nishima said, her voice small.

Shokan shrugged.

“It lifts my heart to see you safe, Kamu-sum. It is a miracle.” She looked into each of the men’s faces. Certainly they are able to maintain an appearance of dignity better than I, she thought. I must look a ruin.

“The miracle,” Kamu answered, “is Brother Shuyun’s servant, Kalam. He went out into the fog and met a horde of barbarian raiders, sending them off chasing phantoms. He led us and hid us and put his ear to the ground and lured barbarians off into the mist and even drew his sword against his own people. He will be a man of Wa yet.”

Nishima’s smile was pained.

“Nishi-sum,” Shokan said gently, “despite all, we must prepare for the future. There are many things that must be spoken of.”

Nishima nodded, a sudden coldness spread through her. “You will not marry me to this Khan, will you, Shokan?” she said, surprised by the edge of hysteria in her voice.

“Sister, I would not marry you to anyone you did not choose.”

She turned her tea bowl, still focusing on nothing.

“Nishima, the Lords of Wa and the officials of the government are meeting in the Great Hall as we speak. There is no heir to the throne.”

“There are sons, Shokan-sum. Have you forgotten?”

Shokan glanced over at Kamu. “Wakaro is certainly dead, and the others will follow their brother once the people learn that the Yamaku have fallen. They are a despised family, Nishima-sum. No Yamaku will sit upon the Dragon Throne again.”

There was silence for a second, but Nishima did not really take this information in. She could not force herself to focus on the conversation.

“If a suitable sovereign is not found, there will be a civil war, sister.”

Nishima looked up. I have lost a father, why have they come to bother me with this, she asked herself? “Shokan-sum, excuse me for saying so, but you are speaking the worst foolishness. The Khan is about to take the throne. In a few hours he will sit in the Yamaku’s place. The Empire, I may remind you, has fallen.”

Shokan rubbed his palm with his fingers. “If there is not a chosen sovereign, claimants will spring up all over Wa. There will never be a concerted effort to oust the barbarians, for there will be no alliance strong enough. The lords of Wa will war among themselves, making the barbarians’ work easy. It will be a generation before we see the enemy gone, perhaps more.”