The Initiate Brother Duology (73 page)

Attempting to alter his gray mood, the guardsman dipped a brush in ink
and poised the tip over the report he was supposed to be writing, but no words flowed. He realized he had lost focus entirely when ink dripped onto the rice paper, spoiling it completely. Rinsing the brush, he set it on its rest to dry and gave up the pretense of work altogether.

Though he told himself he had no time for melancholy, Jaku could not force his thoughts elsewhere. Inaga had qualities that Jaku had seen too infrequently. It was not common to find someone who was entirely loyal and there was no doubt in Jaku’s mind that the boy had been. There had never been any doubt, not from the very first day Inaga had come to service. That was another point about Inaga—he concealed nothing—was somehow incapable of hiding anything and it seemed everyone knew that instinctively.

Katta touched the paper on which he had been writing to a lamp, letting it burn, slowly turning it to avoid the flame. He waited until he dared hold it no longer and then dropped it onto his inkstone and let it burn itself out.

It was not the boy’s death, Jaku realized, it was something more. The intrigue of the Imperial Palace and in the Empire was something he had always found exhilarating, like the kick boxing ring or a duel—one was truly tested—and failing the test meant more than losing a game of gii. Failing could mean loss of everything. But somehow the death of the servant had affected Jaku’s love of the
game.
It had been such a senseless death, in aid of nothing.

Suddenly the game of court intrigue seemed as senseless as…Jaku was not sure what. And it was this game that had brought him here—to Seh where the Emperor plotted against the Shonto House.

Does the Emperor intend this as a lesson or is it his intention that I fall with Lord Shonto? Jaku asked himself again. Certainly the Son of Heaven knew that Shonto would not accept Jaku as an ally—and Jaku was not about to join forces with a man who was about to fall—not just fall from favor.

The last flame from the burning paper flickered and disappeared, leaving a pile of smoking ashes on the inkstone. The report would have been meaningless anyway, Jaku thought, just another arrangement of words on paper in a bureaucracy weighted down with words on paper.

In a few hours he would meet Lord Shonto. He could expect no honesty there either, and certainly no loyalty. Jaku touched his fingertips together as though he would meditate. There were so many lies now that even Jaku was beginning to lose his way among them.

He had spent hours searching among all the past lies, assuring himself
that he knew his path so well that Shonto could never cause him to stumble. He thought of Lady Nishima, from whom he had not received word since his arrival in Rhojo-ma. She walked the path of lies also, though he felt somehow that she found herself there by accident, not by choice.

There was no one he could think of now whom he could rely on to be honest at all times. He thought of Tadamoto-sum and the usual anger he felt was replaced by a deep sadness.

A riverman called out to another and they both laughed. Jaku rose fluidly from his cushion and began to pace the cabin, six paces, side to side. A tap sounded on the screen and Jaku gave permission to enter.

“Your audience with Lord Shonto, General,” a servant whispered.

Jaku nodded. He mustn’t keep the Imperial Governor waiting. No. Every act of the farce must be carried out, without exception. An audience with a governor who would soon be a ghost seemed particularly appropriate to such a play. And Jaku had no doubt that a ghost was what Shonto would soon be. There would be no rest for the lord, nor for his retainers, nor for his son. Jaku was certain of that.

And now the architect of Shonto’s downfall had arrived to participate in the lord’s fate. The guardsman shook his head. It had been a beautiful stroke, Jaku had to admit. He had not thought the Emperor capable of such a pure act. He wondered if the Son of Heaven thought Jaku should feel honored to be in such esteemed company. An audience with a corpse. He must dress for the occasion.

*   *   *

His most finely made light duty armor, the suit with the Choka hawk worked into the black lacings along the shoulder covering. A purple border with tiny silver hawks. Jaku thought it quite possible that there had been no finer armor made in his generation. Certainly, Shonto had his garden, but Jaku was not a man without means as this work of the armorer’s art would attest. And Shonto would recognize the work of an artist—Jaku was counting on that.

The Commander of the Imperial Guard took more time than usual with his preparations—almost as though he made ready for a duel. Shonto was undoubtedly an adversary deserving of such treatment. Perhaps it was this thought that made Jaku choose his
Mitsushito
from among the several swords he traveled with. He opened the rosewood case with great respect and examined the weapon most conscientiously before lacing it into his sash. It was very old, almost an artifact, yet the name of its maker alone would unnerve
most opponents. Jaku, of course, was too much of a pragmatist to rely on another’s reputation—the sword was a beautiful weapon, not an ornament.

So like a journey to a duel did this feel that Jaku had an urge to look over at his Second as he took his place in the sampan. He even felt that strange sense of unreality; “floating on the surface of illusion,” his teachers had called it.

The boatmen pushed off and began to scull rhythmically. Denji Gorge, Jaku thought. Shonto had found a way out of Denji Gorge. Bribery was the only possibility. Jaku felt himself begin to float higher and resisted with an act of will. To have men so well placed in Hajiwara’s army spoke of long preparation. Unreality tugged at him again. Just how long, Jaku wondered, had Shonto known that he would be sent to Seh?

Jaku rubbed the palms of his hands on the padded armrest. What did Shonto know? Whose game was being played here? Perhaps it would not be an audience with a ghost but the ghost that traveled to the audience. Jaku looked down at his hands as though reassuring himself of their substance.

Even if Shonto was not aware of his situation, certainly he was aware of Jaku’s part in the debacle in Itsa Province. Using the control of the kick boxer, Jaku forced a calm over himself. Shonto would not act openly, after all, the lord was a gii master of some fame. No, this meeting might serve no purpose other than to make Jaku aware that Shonto had no doubts about who stood behind the attempt at Denji Gorge. That would be more worthy of him.

The Imperial Guard Commander realized that the irony of the Emperor’s plan was quite complete. No doubt the Son of Heaven had divined Jaku’s plans for Lady Nishima, or perhaps it was truer to say that the art of divination had not been required…Tadamoto had seen to that. What was it the Emperor feared? That Jaku Katta would join forces with the Shonto. And now the Son of Heaven had sent Jaku into Shonto’s palace knowing full well that the Imperial Governor would never join forces with the man who had arranged for him to be trapped in Denji Gorge.

Jaku realized that, for the first time in many years, he had very few options. He had become a traveler on a path without branches, a path that narrowed with each step. So it was that he played out each act of the farce as though it had meaning. What choice was there? He had even done exemplary work ridding the Grand Canal of its parasites. Jaku laughed softly. If nothing else, he was still Wa’s finest soldier.

*   *   *

“He is in disfavor or he has been sent north to oversee your fall, Lord Shonto. If he is in disfavor, our attempts to convince the Emperor of the true threat will not be successful. If General Jaku has been sent north to be sure there are no mistakes made and that my Governor is truly brought down, then there is a slim chance that he could be made to see the true danger…a very slim chance.” General Hojo bowed.

Shonto nodded. He shifted his armrest unconsciously, considering what Hojo said. It was not that the general’s words had not been said before, but Shonto believed that ideas, even bad ideas, in some mysterious way generated other ideas and one of those might be the truth or the beginning of wisdom. His former Spiritual Advisor had a saying that he used often:
search for the truth inside a lie.
So he searched, not that Hojo had lied, of course, but it was the same principle.

They sat in a plain room: General Hojo; Lord Komawara; Shonto’s Steward, Kamu; Lord Taiki; and Brother Shuyun.

The wall paintings drew the governor’s attention for a moment—on one side of the hall a scene of the great war with the barbarians in which his own ancestor had played a significant part—on the other a scene among the plum trees in spring in which Genjo, the great poet of Seh, chanted to a rapt audience. Shonto turned back to his advisors.

“We will proceed as we have discussed,” Shonto said, finally. “Perhaps the guardsman will tell us more than he means to. Lord Komawara, you are prepared for your part?”

Komawara nodded, half a bow. His hair had still not grown back from his travels as an itinerant Botahist monk, and he welcomed the dressing on his head wound and wore it larger than necessary in an attempt to cover as much of his scalp as possible. His efforts to pretend this did not shame him were sometimes difficult to watch.

“Then we can do no more.”

A guard opened the screen a crack, as though on cue, and a hand signal was given to Kamu.

“He is at our gate,” the steward reported, and all present composed themselves to wait.

Jaku arrived with two of his black-clad Imperial Guards who stationed themselves, with Shonto’s own guard, outside the entrance to the room. He knelt on a cushion that had been set for him and bowed deeply.

Shonto nodded and then smiled. “Does the chaku bush fare well, General Jaku?”

Jaku nodded. “I am convinced that my gardener never tended his own children so well. The chaku fares well and is without question the centerpiece of my garden. I remain in the Governor’s debt for such a gift.”

“There is no debt between friends, or so Hakata said and I believe he spoke the truth.

“It is my honor to introduce you to my guests.” Introductions were made and Shonto watched carefully the guardsman’s reactions but even when introduced to Shuyun he gave no sign of what he might think or feel. Well played, Katta, Shonto thought, gracious even to the man who defeated you in the kick boxing ring.

“May we offer you refreshment, Katta-sum?”

Before the guardsman could answer, they were interrupted by screens sliding open to Shonto’s right and then the rustle of silk and female voices. All eyes turned to find Lady Kitsura and Lady Nishima, followed by their ladies-in-waiting and servants who carried a harp and a flute.

The women bowed to Shonto and his guests. “Our apologies, Uncle,” Nishima colored as she spoke, “It was not our intention to interrupt. Kitsura had promised a concert…. Please excuse us.” She turned to go.

“Nishima-sum, please do not apologize.” He smiled to reassure her. Certainly he would never think to embarrass his daughter and Lady Kitsura by sending them away. “I’m sure music would be welcomed by our guests. Especially music provided by players of such note. Please, join us.” Shonto waved to the servants.

The ladies bowed and cushions were set for them before the dais. They were less formally dressed than the occasion demanded, as they were in the presence of guests, but even so their robes were of fine materials and matched to the layers of inner robes with the greatest care. Nishima’s kimono was a pattern of snow-laden plum blossoms on a field of blue and Kitsura wore a robe of deep red bearing a flight of autumn cranes.

Although Nishima’s hair was worn in a traditional arrangement, Kitsura’s was most informal—worn in long cascades that flowed down her back. The ladies-in-waiting took a moment to arrange Kitsura’s tresses for her hair all but reached the floor when she stood. It was not common for women to wear their hair this way except in the privacy of their own rooms or with members
of their families or occasionally with trusted family friends. The effect this had on the gentlemen present was visible.

“You have met General Jaku, I believe?” Shonto asked. “Lady Kitsura Omawara, and my daughter, Lady Nishima.” Servants arrived with wine and tables. The ladies’ instruments were set nearby.

“Did your efforts on the canal go well, General Jaku?” Nishima asked. Shonto admired how quickly her poise returned.

“It is kind of you to ask, Lady Nishima. I believe the Grand Canal can now be traversed by unescorted women and children in complete safety.”

A typically modest warrior, Shonto thought.

“That is welcome news indeed,” Nishima said, her smile a bit forced. She turned immediately to Komawara who had been slowly sinking into himself since the women arrived. “And Lord Komawara, I understand that you also have been making the Empire safe from brigands?”

“A small altercation in the hills, Lady Nishima. Of little consequence.” Shonto noted that Lord Komawara only met his daughter’s eye for the briefest second.

“You are far too modest, Lord Komawara.” She turned to Jaku. “Lord Komawara’s men were twice outnumbered, and yet they did not hesitate. At some loss, and with many wounded, including our brave lord, they made the Jai Lung Hills safe for passage again.” She rewarded Komawara with a smile that seemed to speak great admiration.

“Nishima-sum,” Kitsura said, “shall we play and then allow Lord Shonto and his guests to return to their conversation?”

Nishima agreed and they took up their instruments. The melody they had chosen for the occasion was not in the modern style that they usually preferred but was of an ancient form known as “Poem Song.”
Autumn on the Mountain of the Pure Spirit
was a melody that conjured up the sounds of the world and was thought to be one of the most evocative songs ever written. The flute led the harp through the first movement which captured the mood of the leaves beginning to fall.

It was not impolite to watch musicians as they played, which meant that the gathered gentlemen could regard the two women in a manner that would otherwise have been unacceptable. In the warm lamplight Kitsura and Nishima appeared to be two figures from the wall painting come back to a time where things were more real and mundane. With her eyes closed and her face covered in a blush from winding the flute, Kitsura seemed even
more the ideal of feminine beauty. Shonto turned his gaze away with difficulty and found that both Jaku Katta and Lord Komawara appeared enraptured. At the same time Shuyun sat with his eyes closed as though he meditated—whether it was upon the music or something else Shonto could not know.