The Initiate Brother Duology (70 page)

The Emperor shook his head. “He is your brother, Colonel, it is natural that you trust his motives more than others might.” He looked up at the young officer in front of him. “You, however, must decide where your loyalties lie. You cannot serve two masters, Tadamoto-sum, be very clear on that.”

Tadamoto bowed his head to the mat and returned slowly to his kneeling position. “My brother and I have had a parting of ways, Sire. Katta went north on the great canal, while I remained…. I am my Emperor’s servant. It is my hope that my opinions regarding my brother are not dictated by family loyalties but come only from careful thought and concern for duty to my Emperor. If this is not the case, Sire, please dismiss me from my position and allow me to serve in some other way.” He bowed again.

The Emperor stroked his chin, and though his eyes were fixed on the young Jaku, his focus was elsewhere. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, softer. “No, Tadamoto-sum, I trust you. I am well aware that your brother’s actions cause you great pain and that you still hope there is an explanation that will indicate his continued loyalty to the Throne. I hold the same hope, for Katta is dear to me.” He paused. “But I cannot let my affection blind me entirely. If your brother does not soon act in a manner that proves our hopes are justified….” The Emperor let the threat hang in the air. He began examining his scabbard.

After a moment he turned back to the young man who knelt before
him. “Is there more to this report, Colonel, or is that all the bad news for the day?”

Tadamoto hesitated, offering a silent prayer to Botahara. “There is one other thing, Sire.” He tried to work some moisture into a dry mouth. “It seems that Lady Nishima and Lady Okara have one other companion.”

“Oh.”

Tadamoto almost whispered. “It is possible they are accompanied by the Lady Kitsura Omawara, Sire.”

The Emperor did not take his eyes from his sword.

“That will be all, Colonel.”

“Yes, Emperor.” Jaku Tadamoto touched his head to the floor and, without rising, backed from the room as quickly as concern for the Emperor’s dignity would allow.

Akantsu II sat for a long time, staring at his sword of office. Insults such as this were not paid to Emperors. No doubt Lord Omawara believed his name and failing health would protect him. The Emperor pulled his sword halfway from its scabbard and then rammed it home savagely. Oh, there was nothing the Emperor could do openly—Omawara was correct in that assumption. But that would not protect the old man. Nor would it protect the rest of his House.

The Emperor thought suddenly of the Lady Kitsura, and her legendary beauty seemed an affront to him now. Such arrogance! The Emperor tightened his grip on the sword. The old families would never accept the Yamaku. This proved it beyond all doubt. There could be no other course of action if he was to preserve the Yamaku ascendancy. Once the Shonto were gone, the old families would realize their mistake…their many mistakes.

He turned and set his sword in its stand with exaggerated care, controlling his shaking hands with an act of will. He took a long deep breath and let it out slowly. The insult would not receive the slightest recognition, of course. In fact, he would send a letter inquiring after Lord Omawara’s health that very day. He would also ask if Lady Kitsura’s journey went well. A solicitous letter. Let the dying old man know what he had wrought upon his family. But the Emperor’s mood was not so easily broken. Even the thought of what could be done to the Omawara brought him no comfort.

The Emperor took another long breath. He clapped his hands softly and a servant appeared.

“Send for Osha-sum,” he said, “her Emperor desires her presence.”

*   *   *

Destroying her lover’s letters crossed Osha’s mind when she received the summons to attend the Emperor. It will not matter, she thought. If he knows, the letters will not make a difference. Selecting robes to wear into the royal presence, an activity that could take many women several days, was comparatively easy. Calming her spirit, however, was not possible.

If the Emperor knew about her meetings with Tadamoto-sum, it would not matter that the Son of Heaven had lost interest in her…had not called for her in weeks. He would quickly forget that he had cast her aside without a word. That anyone would presume to pay her court would drive him to a fury, of that she was certain.

And they had been so careful! She sat down as a wave of fear weakened her limbs. What of Tadamoto-sum? Had the Emperor…? She did not want to think of it. Hanging her head in her hands for a second, she tried to control herself.

No doubt this is not what I fear. It is more likely merely a good-bye—
your presence in the Imperial Palace is no longer necessary. Here is a gift from the Son of Heaven who is an admirer of your talents. It is said that Chou has need of dancers, and the air there is so healthful and pure.

But would she be called into the presence of the Emperor for such a message? No, she thought, that is not likely. Perhaps, then, the Emperor would truly give her a gift! Perhaps he would allow her to continue to dance with the Imperial Sonsa troupe!

She thought warmly of Tadamoto. He had been so certain that he could sway the Emperor to allow her to stay in the capital. She smiled as she rose and examined her appearance in a bronze mirror. But as she left her apartments to walk to the Emperor’s audience hall, her confidence seemed to waver a little with each step.

By the time Osha arrived at the guarded double doors, she was shaking and pale. Only her years of Sonsa training forced her knees to support her.

Osha barely noticed the two Imperial Guards who opened the doors. She knelt in the doorway, casting her gaze down, even when she had returned to a kneeling position. She sat thus, in the grip of more terror than she had ever known.

“Please, Osha-sum, enter,” came the familiar voice. “Be at your ease.”

She closed her eyes and bowed again. What could she read in that voice? He did not hide his anger well, but she had seen it done…had seen him
toy with someone until they believed they were safe. Then he had exploded in one of his fits of anger. Osha rose and moved forward on her knees until she was a respectful distance from the dais. Folding her hands carefully in her lap, she tried to force herself into a calm but still did not meet his eyes.

“Your dancing goes well?”

“The Emperor is kind to inquire. My dancing goes most well.”

“I am glad to hear this, though Colonel Jaku Tadamoto has said as much.”

She closed her eyes and fought tears. Even without looking, she knew that the Emperor sat with his sword across his knees. An urge to prostrate herself and beg for forgiveness began to pull at the edges of her rising fears.

“I value the young Jaku brother’s judgment,” he said as though to someone else. “It pleases me that your dancing goes well. It is a demanding path that you pursue, I understand why you have so little time for mere social occasions. Demands are something an Emperor understands only too well. Though the demands made upon an Emperor do not give us the time we would wish to pursue the things that are close to our hearts. I do not think this is so with the Sonsa?”

Osha could hear the pounding of blood in her ears—a steady rhythm of fear.

“Please excuse me,” she said with difficulty, “I am not sure what the Emperor means.”

“Is it not dancing that is closest to a Sonsa’s heart?”

“Ah.” Osha smiled as if he had said something clever.

“I understand this passion that controls you, Osha-sum. I am sometimes jealous, but an Emperor must never give in to such things.” He paused. “You must dance and I must spend my days listening to ministers and counselors, though it is not pursuing what is closest to my heart. Do you become jealous when the Empire takes so much of my time?”

“I…the Empire, Sire, cannot be compared to dance. Dance is but a trivial thing when set beside affairs of state.”

“So many would say, though I am not sure I would agree. Let us say that we both are governed by things of importance. It does not matter.” She knew he stared at her, and she tried to remain calm. “It warms my heart to see you, Osha-sum. You have grown even more beautiful these last months.”

“I am honored that you would say so, Sire.”

“We must learn to live with the demands of our lives, Osha-sum, and take pleasure in the moments that are truly our own.”

His outstretched hand appeared before her.

Her heart sank entirely now. He did not know about Tadamoto! That was not why she had been summoned. He desired her! After ignoring her entirely and subjecting her to the greatest humiliation, he wanted her!

She closed her eyes and fought back tears. The Emperor wanted her again. Was she not pleased? She thought of Tadamoto and realized that she was completely terrified of arousing the Emperor’s suspicions. She dared not refuse.

“Are these tears, Osha-sum?” the Emperor asked. “Is there something wrong?”

Shaking her head, she tried to smile. “Tears do not always indicate sadness, Sire.”

With effort she reached out her hand and the Emperor grasped it. She had forgotten how strong he was. As she moved forward the Emperor pulled her, almost roughly, onto the dais so that her knee struck the frame, but he did not seem to notice.

A kiss that would have seemed passionate before felt coarse to her now. His hands touched her without concern for her pleasure, failing to arouse as they once had. The Emperor fumbled at her sash, for it was not a Lover’s Knot and easily undone. She had to untie it for him, helping unwind the yards of brocade.

Pushing her down into the deep silk cushions, the Emperor opened her robes. There were no words of love, no whispers close to her ear. Osha felt nothing but revulsion. With all her heart she wanted to run. Until that moment she had not known what it was she felt for Tadamoto-sum. The Emperor lowered his weight onto her, his face close to hers, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

T
HERE WERE FEW people as skilled at waiting as Brother Sotura. He could truthfully say that he had only known impatience twice, perhaps three times, in his life, and on each of those occasions he had mastered this emotion almost immediately. The chamber in which he practiced waiting contained a small shrine to Botahara on one wall and an austere, but very skillful arrangement of cedar boughs and autumn slip maple on a small stand against another. These two things in themselves would have provided the necessary focus for many days of meditation, even if Brother Sotura didn’t have other things to consider. And he could barely remember a time when he did not have
other things
demanding his attention.

He was more than concerned that Lord Shonto had not allowed this second meeting with Brother Shuyun to take place in the Temple of the Pure Wind. The lord had insisted that the meeting should be held in the Governor’s Palace so Shonto “would not be deprived of his Advisor’s counsel at this crucial time.” Of course, Brother Sotura had agreed immediately—one didn’t argue with an Imperial Governor, especially one whose family name was Shonto—but still, he was concerned.

Lord Shonto was known to be a very convincing man and Sotura feared the lord’s influence on his former student. Shuyun was too important to Botahist interests to go the way of Shonto’s former Spiritual Advisor. The Brotherhood could not afford another renegade. He smiled at the term he’d chosen. Perhaps “renegade” was too strong, but Brother Satake had certainly
pursued a course of independence. And independence was not something the Brotherhood either encouraged or admired.

Private discussion with Brother Shuyun was what the chi quan master required, and he was not convinced that it would be possible inside the Governor’s Palace. Sotura turned his gaze to the paper-thin walls. Lord Shonto was certainly not above having the conversations of his Spiritual Advisor listened to; of that he was certain. Of course Sotura did not plan to make a request of Shuyun that the young monk could not fulfill in good conscience, so that was not the reason he was concerned with being overheard. It was what Shonto might learn of the Botahist Order that concerned Sotura. Knowledge of the schisms within the Brotherhood could prove most useful to some parties in the Empire.

So the conversation with Shuyun must be private, that was certain. The young monk had seen the evidence of armies in the desert with his own eyes, and that was a crucial factor. Sotura had to have Shuyun’s support in what he was about to do, although Shuyun could be spared the details and reasons. The Initiate would undoubtedly be distressed to know that his information would be used to destroy the credibility of a senior member of their faith.

Brother Sotura turned his gaze back to the statue of Botahara in its shrine with its arrangement of leaves and branches. He felt a second of confusion as though the statue gazed back at him and the look was not entirely benign. Sotura shook himself out of this state immediately.

Footsteps could be heard approaching down one of the labyrinth of halls that wove through the fabric of the palace.
Shuyun.
The chi quan master recognized the sound of the footsteps as easily as he would the boy’s signature or his style of chi quan. The older man smiled until the shoji was pushed aside and then the smile was replaced by the unreadable countenance of a Botahist Master.