The Initiate Brother Duology (54 page)

After lengthy discussion in the Omawara House, it had been decided that it would be best for Kitsura to travel north with Nishima before an official offer was made on behalf of the Emperor. No doubt Kitsura’s flight would still be taken as an affront to the person of the Emperor, but it was believed the Omawara were prominent enough to survive such a thing. It was, after all, entirely the Emperor’s fault for not conforming to the proper etiquette of the situation.

Of course it was uncommon for a family not to want their daughter to become an Empress, but Kitsura had confided to Nishima something her father had said: “This is a dangerous situation. If there is a new Empress there will be new heirs and that will raise the jealousy of the Princes and their supporters. If the Emperor were to fall or to pass on through illness, the new Empress and her children would be in grave danger.”

So the Lady Kitsura Omawara set out secretly for the north in the company of her cousin and the famous painter, Lady Okara Haroshu.

A rumor was spread that a Lady Okara Tuamo traveled north with her two over-protected daughters. The name Tuamo was so common that a person bearing it could belong to any of a dozen families of moderate position. The few guards and servants who accompanied the women, though well enough appointed, wore no livery and could have been the staff of any well-to-do minor House. They would raise no suspicions.

Nishima rang a small gong and a servant appeared. “Please have my inkstone and brushes cleaned and ask my companions if they will join me for
the evening meal.” The servant took up the writing utensils, bowed, and left silently.

Is she afraid? Nishima wondered. Of course, no one on her staff knew all the reasons for this journey, but they understood that it was made in secret for they were, of necessity, party to the ruse. No doubt that had an effect on them. The Shonto have such loyal staff, Nishima thought, would I be like this if my karma had brought me into this world to a completely different station?

It was, she knew, idle speculation—duty was duty and the spirit that appeared in the world as Nishima Fanisan Shonto understood this concept only too well. It was duty that took her to Seh and duty that led her to carry the coins which she could feel lying against the soft skin of her waist. Despite her rather romantic view of this “Secret Journey” Nishima understood the danger she could be in. The coins she carried were like a terrible secret; one that she was sure had the potential to tear the Empire apart.

Rising again, she went to the small port which looked out the starboard side. Calypta trees lined the bank, standing in a litter of fallen leaves. Like tears, Nishima thought as she gazed at the scattered leaves, and the trees seemed bent under a weight of sadness. She felt this sense of melancholy herself as though it traveled through the medium of the mist.

The calypta gave way to a grassy shore and in the clearing stood a shrine to the plague-dead. She made a sign to Botahara. “May they attain perfection in their next lives,” Nishima whispered.

Less than ten years since the plague had swept through Wa and already it seemed a distant memory, as though it had been a chapter of ancient history, yet it had taken a huge toll, including many people close to Nishima, even her true father. It is too terrible to remember, Nishima thought. We bury the memories so that they only surface in our most frightening dreams. A knock on the shoji brought her back to the present.

“Yes?”

“Lady Kitsura, my lady.”

Nishima smiled, “Please show her in.”

A rustle of silk and the scent of a fine perfume preceded the young aristocrat through the door.

“Ah, the artist has been at work.” Kitsura said, glancing at the paper on Nishima’s writing table.

“Notes to myself,” Nishima said, the polite response when one did not wish to share one’s writings with another.

Kitsura nodded; they had many understandings, and this was one—poetry was not shared until the author felt ready.

Lady Kitsura wore informal robes, though very beautifully dyed and embroidered, and matched in color by an artist’s eye. Her long black hair hung down her back in a carefully tended cascade.

Nishima felt a flash of envy as she looked at her cousin. It is not surprising that even the Emperor desires her, Nishima thought. But there was something more there, a tightness around the eyes and the mouth. She worries, Nishima realized.

The two women drew cushions up to the heat, glad of each other’s company.

“I am concerned about our companion, Kitsu-sum. Do you think the Lady Okara resents making this journey?”

Kitsura turned her lovely eyes to the fire and taking up the poker began to rearrange the coals efficiently. “She is troubled Nishi-sum. We have both seen this, though she tries to hide it. But I am not convinced that this is because she suddenly finds herself on the canal to Seh. It seems to me, though I am not sure why I think this, that it is something else that haunts the Lady Okara. My sense is that for Oka-sum, this is not a journey to Seh but a journey inward…. I believe she comes willingly though perhaps not happily.”

“A secret journey,” Nishima almost whispered.

A knock on the shoji was answered by Kitsura. “Cha,” she said to her cousin and a servant entered bearing a cha service on a simple bamboo tray. “Look how completely we play the country peers,” Kitsura laughed gesturing to the tray. “Am I overdressed for my part?”

“You are always overdressed for your part, cousin,” Nishima said innocently.

Kitsura laughed. “Oh. A tongue as sharp as her brush.”

“Now, Kitsu-sum, you know that I jest.”

“Oh, yes, I do, and it is only fitting; I have always been jealous of your abundance of talent.”

“You who have no need to be jealous of anyone’s talent.” Both women laughed. They had known each other all their lives and viewed even their differences with affection.

Kitsura ladled cha into a bowl and offered it to Nishima. “This first cup must be for you, cousin.”

“Of course it must,” Nishima said taking the cup that etiquette dictated she must first refuse.

Kitsura laughed her musical laughter. “So the mischievous Nishi-sum of my childhood seems to have returned.”

“It is the pleasure of your company, cousin. How can I not be gay in your presence.”

Tasting her cha, Kitsura smiled. “You know me too well, Nishi-sum. I am honored that you try to cheer me.”

Nishima turned her cha bowl in her hands, suddenly serious. “You worry about your father, Kitsu-sum, but he has made his peace with Botahara. It is we who are in danger, we who are still trapped by the concerns of the flesh.”

“What you say is wisdom, cousin.”

“Easy wisdom, Kitsu-sum; it is not my father who is ill,” Nishima said quietly.

The other woman nodded. “He often speaks of you—asks after you. I read him your poems and he praises them.”

“The Lord Omawara is too kind, far too kind.”

Kitsura nodded without thinking, her focus elsewhere. “Anyone else would have had his daughter marry the Emperor, though her life would have been a misery. Perhaps his…nearness to completion allows him to see this life differently.”

“I believe that is true, Kitsu-sum. Perhaps we can discuss this with Brother Shuyun when we arrive in Seh.”

“Ah, yes, Brother Shuyun.” Kitsura said, obviously ready to change the subject. “Tell me about him, cousin. Is the rumor true that he shattered an iroko table with only a gesture?”

“Kitsura-sum!” Nishima said in mock disappointment. “You listen to rumors? It is not true. I was not present when this occurred, but I know he did not accomplish such a thing with a gesture. Tanaka told me he shattered the table by pressing on it with his hand, though he was sitting at the time.”

“Ah. I did not really believe that he could have done such a thing without some direct force. Only Botahara could have done that. But still, that was quite an amazing act even so; wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, yes. Tanaka said that if he had not seen it with his own eyes he would never have believed it.”

“I look forward to meeting our Brother. Is he so forceful in appearance?”

Nishima shrugged. “He is not large, by any means, and he is very soft spoken, yet he does seem to possess some…power. I cannot describe it—a quiet power, like a tiger possesses. You will see.”

“Like a black tiger?” Kitsura asked with a wicked smile.

“You have been listening to rumors haven’t you?” Nishima said, though she was not as displeased as she sounded.

“I’m not sure, cousin. Are these rumors that I hear?”

Nishima sipped her cha, turning the cup in her hands the way Lord Shonto did when he was thinking. “I do not know what the rumors say, Kitsu-sum. The general in question has expressed his interest and I have not been as discouraging perhaps as one in my station should be.”

Kitsura shrugged. “One cannot go on discouraging all those whom one meets simply because they are not suitable husbands. After all, one is not always looking for a husband,” she gestured to herself, “as you can see.” She smiled. “He is certainly the most handsome man in the Empire, or at least the most handsome I have seen. But can he be trusted, do you think?”

Setting her cha down, it was Nishima’s turn to take up the poker and move the coals. “I don’t know, Kitsura-sum. There was the incident in our garden. He is certainly very brave. I don’t know.” She thrust the poker into the fire and looked up. “I want to trust him….”

“I understand, but he does seem too much the opportunist to me. I don’t know how things stand, Nishi-sum, but I would be careful of how close I would allow such a man.” She smiled engagingly. “I would allow him no closer than my own rooms on dark evenings…but not often.”

Lady Nishima laughed softly. “He is, no doubt, the pawn of our Emperor, and our Emperor will be none too pleased with the Ladies Kitsura and Nishima when he finds that they have slipped away in the night like the heroines of an old romance.” Nishima thrust the poker deep into the fire again. “How have our lives suddenly become so strange?”

Kitsura reached out her hand and touched her cousin’s sleeve. “The word strange has no meaning in our lives. Our ancestors have lived in caves while they fought to regain their lands. Both of us have the blood of the old Emperors and know that Shatsima did not endure the wilds for seven years to ennoble her spirit but because she would never resign herself to the loss of her throne—and her uncle learned that it had been a mistake to allow the child to live, for a girl becomes a woman.

“What has history demanded of the Shonto? The sacrifice of a son in battle. A lifetime of exile. A hundred years of warfare.

“To flee to Seh in secret is nothing, it is child’s play. And you, Nishima, are both Shonto and Fanisan. Who is this young upstart Jaku that he thinks to approach the heir of such history? If his intentions are what one would expect of an opportunist, it is Jaku I will be sorry for, not the Lady Nishima; he cannot know what he toys with.

“The Fanisan carved their fief out of the wilds, fighting both rival Houses and numberless barbarians. Have we forgotten this? Does Jaku Katta know that I carry a knife hidden in my robes and that I know how to use it? He is used to the ladies of the court, to the families that rise and fall at the whim of the Emperor. That is not the Omawara nor the Fanisan nor the Shonto. What we do now is not strange; what is strange is that we have not had to do such a thing until now.”

Nishima sipped her cha. “I know what you say is more than true. Yet we do forget. Even Okara-sum’s family has had its ordeals and the Shonto, of course, are the Shonto.” The young woman straightened suddenly. “Excuse my weakness, Kitsu-sum, it is being shut up like this that begins to wear on me. Do you think that tomorrow we may dare to show ourselves?”

Glancing toward the stern windows, Kitsura nodded. “I don’t think we need fear discovery in this fog, and it is possible that there is no one on any of these boats who would recognize us. We are already some distance from the capital. Fujima-sha was passed just after sunrise.”

“We make excellent time,” Nishima said. The conversation had lifted her spirits considerably. As the miles went by, she felt freer than she had in weeks. “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow, I want to breathe fresh air now.”

Clapping her hands together, Kitsura rose quickly to her feet. “I agree. I have been cloistered too long.”

Sliding the shoji aside, the two young women mounted the steps to the deck, gathering their long robes about them, their sleeves swaying as they went.

Both sails and current moved the boats along and the Shonto guards who acted as rowers and crew lounged about the deck in small groups talking and laughing. The guards fell silent as the two women appeared so that the only sounds to be heard were the cries of the gulls and surge of the ship as it pushed north.

The mist moved among the trees on the shores, wafted among the groves by a light breeze. Many of the trees were barren of leaves while others appeared in fall hues muted by the fog.

“It is a scene for Okara-sum’s brush,” Nishima said quietly, as though the sound of her voice would break a spell and all of the beauty would disappear.

“It is a scene for the Lady Nishima’s brush,” Kitsura said equally softly.

“Perhaps. I like the swamp spears growing along the banks. They seem to have their own strongly developed sense of composition.”

“Yes, that is true.” Kitsura did not finish, for there was a creaking sound that carried to them and then a splash. They both froze. And then laughed at the other’s reaction.

“We do not seem to exhibit quite the spirit of our indomitable ancestors,” Kitsura said.

Nishima nodded, but she did not relax. “Should we go below, do you think?”

“Let’s wait a moment. It is probably nothing. The canal is full of boats, we must remember, and there is nothing terribly suspicious about two ladies enjoying the scenery.” Kitsura answered.

The creaking continued though it remained impossible to tell from which direction it came. Suddenly out of the mist the bow of a small boat appeared almost beside them. Nishima and Kitsura stepped back from the rail into the protection of the quarter deck.