The Initiate Brother Duology (19 page)

Shonto checked the seal on the scroll and then broke it, finding Kamu’s spidery brushwork inside. “You may go,” he said to the boy. When the shoji
slid closed behind the servant, Shonto turned to his merchant. “After I have met with Shuyun-sum, you will join me in a meal with the young Lord Komawara. You remember his father?”

Tanaka nodded.

“The old Komawara sold a piece of his fief before his death, undoubtedly to allow the son to begin trade; so the new Lord of the Komawara is here to begin this endeavor. He will need guidance.” Shonto consulted the scroll again and quoted a substantial sum in Imperial ril. “I wouldn’t think he has the entire amount available, but we will assume he has a good portion of it. Do you have some venture he could invest in that would prove profitable?”

“For a knowledgeable man this is a time of great opportunities. I’m sure we can get the young lord started, but truly he should have his own vassal-merchant, Sire.”

“But finding or training such a man takes time and I want him in Seh, not here.”

“In that case I believe I can accommodate him until a suitable vassal-merchant can be found. I may be able to locate an acceptable person myself, if this would serve your purpose, Lord Shonto. But, Sire, surely you should assess him some part of his profit otherwise he will feel it is charity—a proud man would not allow that.”

“As always, your advice is sound, Tanaka-sum. What would be appropriate in such a case?”

Tanaka caught the corner of his mustache between his teeth and worried it for a second, making his lord smile.

“Eight parts per hundred would be too generous, Sire…twelve parts would be fair.”

Shonto smiled again. “Ten, then. I will suggest it over the meal. I want this young man treated with respect, old friend. He is not powerful in Seh, but he seems knowledgeable and that will be just as important.”

“And he is the son of your father’s friend,” Tanaka said.

“Yes. He is the son of my father’s friend,” Shonto repeated.

Tanaka nodded and filed the figures away in his fine memory. Even as he did so, the merchant found himself observing his lord carefully. He had watched Shonto all the nobleman’s impressive life—had watched the precocious child grow into the strong-willed young man, the young man become the head of one of the most powerful Houses in Wa. It had been an inspiring process to witness. Tanaka, though fourteen years older, had had his own
education to concern him in those days, but still he had come to know Shonto Motoru—had come to admire him. The man Tanaka saw before him now looked like the gii master that indeed he was—a man who surveyed the board in all of its complexity without thought of losing. A man who came alive to challenge.

Tanaka had often played gii with Shonto when they were young; the lord had learned the game too quickly and left the merchant-to-be far behind, but still he remembered the Shonto style forming—bold and subtle in turns. Equally strong on defense or offense. Shonto would understand the traps Tanaka laid better than the merchant understood them himself, sometimes stepping into them with impunity and turning them against their surprised designer. Yet the peaceful life of the gii master was not possible for the bearer of the Shonto name and the lord had indulged his passion for the game for only a short time. In the end he had made gii subservient to his larger needs—using his skill at the board to make a point to any of his generals who questioned his decisions too often. The military men prided themselves on their ability at the gii board, yet few in all of Wa had the skill to sit across the board from the Lord of the Shonto as an equal.

“It seems a long time since the days when we played gii, Sire.”

Shonto smiled warmly, “We still play gii, my friend, but the board has become larger than we ever imagined and now we share the pieces of the same side. Individually we are strong, together we are formidable. Don’t ever think I’m unaware of this. The world has changed, Tanaka-sum; for better or for worse doesn’t matter, it has changed irrevocably and therefore so must we. A strong arm and a sharp sword are not what they once were. We play a different game now, and in the next exchanges you will be a general in your own right. The Shonto interests must be protected at all costs. They are the basis of our future strength. Never forget that.”

The merchant nodded and then, emboldened by his lord’s confidence, spoke quietly, asking the question that weighed on him, “Why are you going to Seh, Lord Shonto?”

Without pause Shonto answered, “Because my Emperor commands it and therefore it is my duty.”

Tanaka’s eyes flicked to Shonto’s sword in its stand and back to the lord. “I heard of the Emperor’s empty threat at his party. He cannot possibly believe you will fail?”

“No, I’m sure he doesn’t. The barbarians are already beaten.” Shonto
paused and tapped his armrest with his fingers. “And who else could he send to Seh that has my battle experience? Jaku Katta? No. He likes to keep the Black Tiger close to him, and not just for his protection. Lord Omawara is dying, I’m sad to say. There are a few others who have the fighting skills but would not command the respect of the men of Seh. The plague and the Interim Wars have destroyed a generation of worthy generals, Tanaka-sum. I am his only choice and yet…he thinks I am his greatest threat. So, until the barbarians are put down, I believe I am safe from whatever the Emperor plots. I have a year—an entire year—that must be long enough.”

The two men were silent then. Lord Shonto poured more cha, but it was overly strong so he let it sit and did not call for more.

“I am ready to meet my Spiritual Advisor now. Perhaps my spirit has need of this, yeh?” He clapped his hands twice and servants scurried in to remove the tables and the cha bowls. The guard opened the shoji at the far end of the hall. “Please bring in Brother Shuyun and the honored Brother.”

Shonto felt his fists clenching involuntarily and he forced them to open, assuming a posture of studied ease. In the back of his mind he heard his own voice saying that Brother Satake would not have been fooled by this act. Satake-sum had missed nothing—not the tiniest detail.

Guards opened the screens at the end of the hall to their full width and a young monk, accompanied by a senior Botahist Brother, stepped inside. Yes, Shonto thought, he is the one, and visions of a kick boxing tournament years before flashed before his eyes.

The two men bowed in the manner of their Order, a quick double bow, low but not touching the floor, a gesture reserved only for the seniors of their faith or the Emperor.

Shonto stared at the small monk, ignoring his companion. Young, the lord thought, so young. Yet he seemed calm under this scrutiny. But was it real, Shonto wondered, was it that same inner stillness that his predecessor had possessed? Brother Satake had been a man who had not been in a perpetual state of reaction—constantly vibrating with the motion around him. With Satake-sum, there had been only stillness and silence—what the old monk had called “tranquillity of purpose,” something Shonto had been able to achieve only to the smallest degree. “I offer no resistance,” Satake-sum had answered when Shonto had questioned him, and that was all the explanation the lord had ever received.

Now Shonto found himself staring at this young man and trying to detect this same quality in the first seconds of their meeting.

He nodded and then spoke formally, “Come forward, honored Brothers, I welcome you to my House.”

The two monks stopped within a respectful distance of the dais, Shuyun kneeling so that the shadow of a post fell in a dark diagonal across his chest, leaving his hands and his face in golden sunlight.

“Brothers, I am honored by your presence as is my House.”

The older monk spoke in a soft voice that rasped deep in his throat. “The honor, Lord Shonto, is ours. I am Brother Notua, Master of the Botahist Faith, and this is Brother Shuyun.”

Shonto nodded toward his Spiritual Advisor, noting the fine structure of his cleanly shaven face, the perfect posture without trace of stiffness. But the eyes unsettled him—the eyes did not seem to belong to the face. They were neither young nor old, but somehow ageless, as though they viewed time differently, and remained unaffected by it. Shonto realized that everyone was politely waiting for him to speak.

“Your journey has not been uneventful, I am told.”

The young monk nodded. “There was a sad occurrence on board ship, Lord Shonto, but it found resolution.”

“And the young girl?”

“She was well at the time she was taken from the boat, but understandably unhappy.”

“I am curious about this incident, this merchant Kogami. He was a servant of the Emperor?”

“It would appear so, Sire.”

“Did you realize that, Brother?”

The older monk observed this exchange carefully. He was surprised that Shonto had gone into this incident so soon, almost before it was polite to do so. Of course what was polite for a Botahist Brother and what was considered so for the Lord of the Shonto were different things.

“I thought it was so. The priest invoked the Emperor’s protection during our confrontation…and then there was the poison. Such treachery is the way of the priests.”

Shonto was silent for a moment. “And the priest, what happened to him?”

“He was met in the Floating City by Imperial Guards dressed as followers
of Tomso.” He said this with assurance and the lord did not doubt it was the truth.

“Huh. In the future you will not go beyond the walls of a Shonto residence without guards. The Empire is yet unstable and dangerous even to the disciples of the Perfect Master.” Shonto looked around suddenly as if something were missing. “May I offer you mead, Brothers?”

Servants appeared at Shonto’s call, and tables, laid with cups and flasks of fine mead, were set before the guests. Polite inquiries into the health of one’s family would normally have followed, but Shonto turned again to the young monk. “Brother Shuyun, you should know that you replace a man I esteemed above all but my own father. You take up a difficult position.”

“Brother Satake was an exceptional man and as honored in our Order as he was in your House, Sire. I’m sure he was irreplaceable. It is my hope that I may be of equal value to you in my own way.”

Shonto nodded, seeming to find this answer acceptable. He hesitated a moment and then said, “Brother Satake, in an uncharacteristic moment, once demonstrated what he called ‘Inner Force’ by breaking a rather stout oar that had been placed across the gunnels of a sampan. He accomplished this by merely pressing down upon it with his hand without being able to bring the weight of his body to bear, for he was sitting at the time. None of the oarsmen could do this, and they were as strong as any of their profession, nor could I, and I was a younger man then. Do you know how this feat is performed, Brother?”

Shuyun shrugged slightly. “I am Botahist trained,” he answered simply, and Shonto saw the young man’s eyes dart to the table before him.

Shonto clapped and servants slid aside the shoji. “Remove these things from Brother Shuyun’s table.”

After doing their master’s bidding, the servants bowed and backed toward the exit.

“No, stay,” Shonto said on impulse. I will have all the servants know of this, he thought. Then, committed to this course of action, Shonto clapped his hands twice and ordered the guard to enter and observe.

Brother Notua cleared his throat and then spoke in his soft voice, the rasp more pronounced than before, “Excuse me, Lord Shonto, but this is most…unexpected.”

Shonto drew himself up and answered, enunciating each word with care,
“Is it not the custom that I should test the monk who is to be in my service
for a lifetime?
”

“It is, Lord Shonto. Excuse me if I appeared to criticize.” The old monk smiled sweetly. “It just seemed to me…Shuyun-sum has so many talents,” the monk looked up at the fire in the lord’s eyes. “Of course, this matter is for you to decide, excuse me for interrupting, I…please excuse me.” He fell silent.

Shonto turned to Shuyun, “Do you have objections to this test, Shuyun-sum?”

“I am ready to begin, Sire, if that is your wish.”

Shonto paused, deciding. “Begin,” he said. He watched as the young monk entered a meditative state, slowing his breathing, his eyes focused on something unseen. Glancing at the older monk, Shonto realized that he, too, had begun to meditate. Strange, Shonto thought, but his attention was taken up by the younger monk.

Shuyun focused his being on the table in front of him. Time slowed and he followed the pattern of his breathing, a pattern as familiar to him as the halls of Jinjoh Monastery.

The table before him was beautifully made of iroko wood, a wood so dense that it would sink in water; “Iron Tree” it was called by the peasants who cut it. The top was twice the thickness of a man’s hand, two hand lengths across, and stood at a convenient height for a person kneeling. Shuyun knew the table’s joinery would be flawless and each plank selected for its strength and beauty—there could be no weakness in the structure, so there could be no weakness in his will.

In the sunlight streaming into the room, the monk’s face appeared as peaceful as the face on a bronze statue of Botahara. Very slowly he drew his hand in a low arc and placed it, palm down, on the center of the table. The tight grain of the wood felt warm against his skin. Sunlight illuminated the fine hairs on the back of his hand and forearm.
He pushed.

There was no visible change in the young monk’s body, no sign of strain. And the table stood as solid as if it were carved from stone.

Botahara forgive me, Shonto thought, I have set him a task at which he must fail. Memories of an oar shattering came to him. Shonto cursed himself for this ill-considered act. Hadn’t the old Brother tried to warn him?

Suddenly there was a sharp
crack
, and slivers of dark wood flew in all
directions, spinning in the sunlight. The old monk drew back like one who has been brutally awakened by a slap, and on his face, clear for all to see, was a look of fear. The table had not buckled, it had exploded.

Guards and servants stood in the hall like statues of stone. The table lay smashed in the center like an animal broken under its load. Shonto slowly picked a sliver of iroko wood off his robe and turned it in his hand as though it were entirely alien material. No one else moved, no one spoke, preserving the moment as long as possible. Then Shonto bowed low to his Spiritual Advisor and everyone in the room followed his example.