The Initiate Brother Duology (35 page)

She was about to turn and rejoin the gathering when a man’s voice came from behind her.

“I thank you for the shinta flower, Lady Nishima.”

“Not at all, General.

She could feel his presence behind her, the Tiger in the darkness. Her breath quickened and she felt the nerves in her back come to life as though she expected to be touched at any second.

“I remember that we spoke of gratitude,” he said.

Nishima almost turned toward him, but stopped. “Perhaps gratitude means different things in different circles, General Katta.”

“Please excuse me, I did not mean to suggest what you seem to think. It was I who was grateful and who continue to be.” He stopped as though to listen and then whispered. “I have information that may be of use to those who grow the shinta blossom.”

Nishima nodded, staring down at the scene below.

“If I am not being too bold, Lady Nishima, please join me on the balcony for a moment.” And she heard him retreat toward the open screens.

She stood there briefly, gathering her nerve, making sure that she was not watched, then she turned and went out into the light of the crescent moon. The night air was cool. Soft-edged clouds traveled across the sky, now covering the Bearer, now the sliver of the waxing moon.

No one else had ventured out onto the balcony, either because they were drawn to the entertainments inside, or because the air was too chill.

“This way, my lady.” Jaku’s voice came out of the darkness to the left and Lady Nishima could just make out the shape of a large man in the black of the Imperial Guard. She turned and followed.

At the end of the balcony a short set of steps led to a second balcony, though this one was small and secluded, no doubt attached to private rooms. Jaku knelt on grass mats here, his formal uniform spread out around him like a fan. Nishima could see his face in the moonlight, the strong features, the drooping mustache, the gleam of the gray eyes. She knelt across from him on the soft mats.

“I am honored that you place such trust in me, Lady Nishima.

“Did you say you had information that may benefit my House, General?”

The Black Tiger nodded, surprised by her coolness. “I do, my lady. Information of the most delicate nature.” He stood suddenly and went to the shoji, opening it and looking carefully inside. Satisfied, he beckoned Nishima to come with him. She hesitated but then rose and entered the chamber. Jaku did not close the screen entirely and they sat close to the opening, still lit by the moon.

“I have information about plans that will affect your uncle, Lady Nishima. I only wish that I had received the information earlier.” He paused as though waiting for a response, but Nishima listened in silence.

“I do not know everything yet, but there is certainly a plot against your uncle that has its origins very near the Dragon Throne.”

Still, Nishima said nothing.

“I take great risk telling you this. I hope that you will see it as a token of my good faith.” He said this with difficulty, as though it was not usual for him to be in a position of trying to please another.

Nishima produced a fan from her sleeve, but instead of opening it she began to slowly tap the palm of her hand. “As you have conveyed this, it is hardly news, General Katta. Do you know more?”

The Black Tiger did not answer immediately and Lady Nishima suppressed a smirk. Oh, my handsome soldier, she thought, you expect so little of me. Should I throw myself into your arms in gratitude?

“I have heard more, Lady Nishima, but I wish to be certain of my reports. I would not want to give you false information.”

“I shall pass this on to my uncle, though he must be almost in Seh by now.

“The shinta blossom is also endangered by the cold, Katta-sum. It is a matter of great concern to me, and I am grateful.”

The warrior bent his head toward the mat, more than half a bow, and when he rose he was closer to her. He bent toward her, and she returned his kiss, though she was not sure why. Jaku reached for her then, but she easily eluded him and was on her feet and at the door before he realized what she had done. She stopped for an instant and spoke quietly in her lovely, warm voice. “We cannot take too much care, Katta-sum, you know that. But we must find a way to discuss the welfare of the shinta blossom further.”

Slipping out the door and down the steps, Nishima found that she was nearly quivering with excitement and tension. Her head spun with questions. Was it possible that Jaku Katta could become loyal to the Shonto? What a coup that would be!

Lady Nishima returned to the entertainments and easily won a poetry contest. Many noted how lovely she looked that evening, how fully she laughed, and how engaging was her conversation. Among the ladies of the court this became the cause of much speculation.

*   *   *

Nishima ladled cha into a bowl for her cousin and then offered it, as etiquette required. It was, of course, refused, but then taken, after being offered the second time.

The two women sat in a small chamber in Lady Nishima’s rooms. A charcoal burner glowed under the table, countering the slight breeze from the two screens that remained open to the garden. The moon was about to set
and the stars were magnificent. A ground mist drifted in the garden, making dark islands of the trees and rocks.

“I don’t know what I shall do!” Kitsura said. “It was all so entirely unexpected. What could the Emperor possibly be thinking? He cannot believe that I would consider becoming a secondary wife!”

“Perhaps it is time for the Empress to retire to the quiet life of the nun,” Nishima offered.

“Even so, I have no wish to be his principle wife either!” Kitsura seemed entirely desolate, her face contorted into a near grimace. “Oh, Nishi-sum, what am I to do?”

“It is indeed difficult. If one had known this would occur, it would have been possible to take steps to avoid any embarrassment. But now,” she shook her head, “it has become a matter that, perhaps, no amount of delicacy may resolve.” She looked concerned, yet her cousin could not help but notice that there was something about her—an air of heightened being, almost—and a smile seemed to be about to appear on Lady Nishima’s face at any second, despite the seriousness of the conversation.

A servant, hearing the voices, knocked on the screen and delivered a message to her mistress—a letter on embossed rice paper of dusky mauve. Attached to the carefully folded message was a fan of autumn ginkyo leaves. Nishima put the letter into her sleeve pocket, but not before Kitsura had seen it, and the look of pleasure on Nishima’s face.

“I see we have different problems, cousin,” Lady Kitsura said dryly.

Nishima laughed, but kept her silence on the matter.

*   *   *

Later, alone in her rooms, Nishima examined the note. To her great surprise and disappointment, it was not from Jaku Katta! Amazed that she would have another suitor, one that she was unaware of, the lady turned up the lamp and unfolded the letter on the table. And it was from Tanaka! There was no mistaking his elegant hand. This was most irregular. To make matters even stranger, there were two unmarked gold coins attached carefully inside. She bent over the small script and began the laborious work of deciphering one of the Shonto codes.

When she had transposed a complete copy she sat up straight, staring at the wall, her face suddenly pale. “May Botahara save us,” she said aloud. “He is entirely mad.”

Gold! Gold going secretly north. Tribute? Bribe? Payment? And who received
it? Who was it the Emperor enriched in his effort to bring down the Shonto, for there was little doubt that this was the purpose. She pushed her hands to her eyes as though it would help her to see the meaning of this discovery, but her head seemed to spin. Picking up the coins, she rubbed them between her fingers as though she could divine their origin. Would Jaku be able to find out the destination of this fortune? But were there not Imperial Guards involved in its transport? She read the letter again. Yes. Did this mean that Jaku was party to it? In her heart she hoped this was not so. Oh, Father, what danger you journey toward.

A
S A WARRIOR, Lord Komawara did not like his position. He stared up at the high granite cliffs of Denji Gorge and counted the archers looking down on the ships below. We are vulnerable, he thought.

Ahead of his own barge, the first ships were entering the locks. It would take two days for all of the fleet to be locked through. The House of Butto had, after three days of delay, finally allowed the Imperial Governor and all those that accompanied him to pass through their lands. The depth of their suspicion had surprised even Lord Komawara, who had been expecting difficulty.

In the past four days the young lord had attended many councils with Shonto and his military advisors. Komawara’s head spun with the mass of details, the thousand lines of speculation. The warriors who were Shonto’s advisors ignored no possibility in their analysis. When Komawara thought of his own councils he was embarrassed at how inadequate they seemed in comparison.

The position of the Komawara has long been less complicated, he realized, but now that he was a Shonto ally, all would change. He must learn all he could from these meetings with the Shonto staff. These were men to be respected, and he felt honored to be among them.

Komawara left off counting the archers on the cliff top—there were many beyond many, that was certain. The barge that preceded his, and the three craft immediately behind it, were moving into the first lock now. Despite having been through locks on many occasions, Komawara was always
amazed by the process, and his admiration for the ancient engineers who had built them never diminished. They had known so much then, he thought; today this would be considered an undertaking of immense difficulty and colossal scale.

They passed the giant bronze gates now, half as thick as Komawara’s barge was wide. Butto soldiers were everywhere. Komawara tapped his breast with his hand, reassured by the feel of the armor hidden beneath his robe. The young lord was uncertain of the bargain that Shonto had struck with the Butto but, no matter what the details, they would not have satisfied him—he did not trust either of the feuding families, and that would never change.

The gates began to close, swinging slowly on giant hinges, their hidden mechanisms moving them inch by inch, as the lock-men allowed the water to flow through the wheels that powered the gates. So slow was their movement, that there was no sound as they came together.

Around his barge the water began to swirl and boil. The sun lit the white foam as it danced across the surface and, almost imperceptibly, the river barges began to rise. Three of Komawara’s guards moved closer to him now, shielding him from the Butto archers as the ship rose toward them.

They will not care about me, Komawara thought, and then realized that, as a Shonto ally, his position in the world had taken on new significance. He chose to stay on deck. We are in the party of the Governor of Seh. We travel the Imperial Waterway, where all have the protection of the Son of Heaven. What these families do here is against the law of the Imperium and should not be countenanced. He planted his feet against the motion of the ship, crossed his arms, and stared at the bowmen on the walls.

The waters grew tranquil and the gates to the next lock began to open. The barges moved forward, towed by teams of oxen, and the process was repeated.

At last Komawara’s barge passed under the narrow bridge that spanned the gap from the Butto lands to their placements on the Hajiwara fief. The walls of the Denji Gorge opened up around them as they slipped into the Lake of the Seven Masters, named for the giant sculptures of Botahara, carved into the cliff. Two of them could be seen now—a Sitting Botahara, and the Perfect Master in Meditation.

Komawara wondered what Brother Shuyun could tell him about the massive figures, for their history was clouded by rumor and time. The images were said to have been carved in the two hundred years after the passing of
Botahara by a secretive sect that later fell during the Inter-temple Wars. This was before the Emperor, Chonso-sa, fought the Botahist Sects into submission and forbade them ever to bear arms again.

Strange, Komawara thought, followers of the Perfect Master who warred across the Empire when their own dogma forbade the taking of life except in the most extreme cases of self-defense. No doubt, they justified it somehow though the historians believed it was merely a struggle for power, nothing more, even as this ill-considered feud was a struggle for supremacy.