The Initiate Brother Duology (81 page)

Tadamoto reached for the letter, read a few lines, then let it drop again. He shook his head. Katta, he thought, knew what words to use, it had always been one of his gifts. Tadamoto had never heard his brother swear by the memory of their parents, no matter how desperate, he had never done that. Somehow Katta had known that this was the one thing he could do that would shake his brother’s certainty. Could he be telling the truth?

He slumped against the frame of the opening and looked out into a fine curling mist, letting the cold air wash across his face. Wasn’t it just like Katta to get himself into an impossible situation and then expect Tadamoto to get him out of it! Botahara save him—save us all. He was an impossible man. But was it true? If it was and he refused to believe, then Tadamoto would bear some responsibility for the calamity that would ensue— because he could not believe in his own brother. He rolled his head against the cool wood of the frame. Katta, Katta, Katta. Why do you always demand so much of me? How can I be loyal to you and loyal to my sworn duties?

A gong sounded the changing of guards. He must make himself ready for his audience with the Emperor. As Tadamoto began his preparations, his mind went back to Osha. Osha in the Emperor’s embrace. Both of their lives were terribly at risk now, Osha was correct in this. Still the question echoed over and over again: what kind of man was he that he could continue to advise this Emperor? Advise him,
comfort him,
knowing that he allowed the woman he loved to act as a common street harlot with this same man? What kind of man was he?

*   *   *

Tadamoto never wore armor into the presence of the Emperor, not even his lightest duty armor. He felt it was a ridiculous affectation and the fact that Katta had done it often had always bothered him—embarrassed him, perhaps, would be closer to the truth. Tadamoto wore his black uniform with its dragon insignia and the marks of his rank but no more. Even this was less ornate than it easily could have been.

It was the courtiers’ obsession with signs of rank and favor that drove the
young Jaku wild. What pettiness!
Could functionaries of the third rank wear a gold sash? Could officials in the Ministry of Ceremony wear the peaked cap?
It was obvious to Tadamoto that the honorable officials who governed the Empire of Wa were far more concerned with the hierarchy in the palace and signs of rank than with the governing of the land.

Realizing how angry he had become, Tadamoto tried to calm himself. It was this situation with Osha and the Emperor that was affecting him so. He was an advisor to the Emperor—it was important that he put emotion aside.

As acting Commander of the Imperial Guard he was whisked through to see the Emperor with less formality than even the most senior officials. After his morning in the Great Council, he took some satisfaction from this. He knelt before the entrance to the Emperor’s chamber and waited to be announced.

Bowing his head to the mat, Tadamoto waited until the Emperor deigned to acknowledge him.

“Colonel Jaku,” the Emperor said, “be at your ease.”

Jaku rose to a kneeling position and moved forward to within a respectful distance of the low dais.

“Thank you, Sire.”

The Emperor nodded. He was studying a scroll and seemed barely aware of Tadamoto. “You have received a letter from your brother, Colonel?”

“I have, Emperor.”

“But not from Lord Shonto?”

“No, Sire.”

The Emperor looked up from his scroll and picked up a letter from a small table. He set this before the dais, nodded at it, and went back to his reading.

Stretching as far as he was able, Tadamoto got two fingers on the letter and retrieved it. So, he thought as he began to read, this is the hand of the famed lord. It was a strong hand of the older style.

Tadamoto looked up at his Emperor who continued to read.

“What is your response to this, Colonel?” the Emperor asked, still not looking up.

“It is similar to the letter I received from Katta-sum, Sire, though a less emotional appeal.” Tadamoto weighted his words carefully. “It is difficult to know from this distance precisely what is occurring at the other end of the Empire. For that reason I hesitate to dismiss this information entirely.”

The Emperor looked up from his scroll. “What would you advise, Colonel?”

“It seems most prudent that we seek outside corroboration of this information. We should send someone whose loyalty is beyond question to Seh, Sire.”

“I had such people in Seh, Colonel Jaku.”

“Excuse me, Sire?”

“They disappeared at almost the same time your brother arrived in the north. Gone.”

Tadamoto swallowed hard.

“Coincidence seems to follow your brother, Colonel, it does not fill me with confidence.”

Tadamoto said nothing. The Emperor stared at him for some seconds and though he did not wish to do it, Tadamoto looked away.

“Write to your brother. Tell him that we will make him the Interim Governor in Seh when Shonto falls. But if he sides with Shonto…he cannot be saved. Tell Katta-sum that my anger has passed, he may return once the task is complete. But above all find out what truly transpires in the north—your brother certainly will know.” The Emperor set his scroll aside and shifted to face Tadamoto. “We will answer Governor Shonto’s request for support. I will send my son, Prince Wakaro, north to Seh before the spring in company with a force of Imperial Guards—an honor guard only, but that need not be stated. We will charge him with assisting Lord Shonto in his task.”

The Emperor played with a stack of Imperial reports. “It causes me grief to do this, Colonel, my own son but…he is not fit to rule.” The Emperor shook his head, a slow gesture. He glanced up at Tadamoto for the briefest second and left the younger man to wonder if it was truly anguish he had seen written there. “He is not fit…so few are.” The Emperor’s head sank down and he stayed like that, face hidden for many minutes. “It is a difficult role that I play, Tadamoto-sum, sometimes…very difficult.”

Tadamoto nodded. “Hakata said that Emperors are always alone, Sire. When difficult decisions are made, it is sadly true.”

The Emperor nodded. “Yes,” he almost whispered. “That will be all, Colonel, thank you.”

Tadamoto bowed and began to back away, but as he reached the door the Emperor spoke again.

“Tadamoto-sum?”

“Sire?”

“Please, have Osha sent to me. Thank you.”

Jaku nodded and backed out. Once outside he rose and walked with great calm down the hallway.

Why do I feel nothing? his thoughts echoed. Why nothing? He seemed to walk suspended in a place where the emotions did not dwell, a place of pure
intellect where all thought was cold, disinterested. It would have been frightening, if he could have felt fear.

There is no hope for my brother—
governor
indeed. If he returned to the capital while Akantsu lived, Katta would die. And Osha…. The Emperor was destroying everything they felt for each other as surely as he would see Katta dead. And Jaku Tadamoto was his most loyal advisor. He heard himself laugh, high-pitched, half strangled. He could not feel fear at that either.

T
HE ARCHIVIST WHO bore responsibility for administering the records of the Province of Seh was surprised to find a young woman requesting access to his domain—a secretary to the governor’s daughter, no less. He was even more surprised to find that this young woman, Shimeko-sum, was not only educated but a great admirer of the order he maintained in Seh’s archives. He had seldom felt so appreciated and found himself wondering why his own daughters did not have such inquiring minds.

Shimeko applied herself to her task with practiced discipline, determined to make a good impression on her new mistress but also because it was work she was familiar with, and in such alien surroundings there was some comfort in that. It was fortunate, for she found little comfort in the history of the Sect of the Eightfold Path.

The story told by the Imperial Historians was very different from what she had been taught in her own studies. As objective as she tried to remain, still, she had found it distressing. And now this well-bred young lady wanted Shimeko to relate all that she had learned to her. How was she to do that?

Carefully gathering her scrolls and papers together, Shimeko set out for Lady Nishima’s chambers. The halls of the Imperial Palace were an astonishing maze, but to Shimeko’s Botahist-trained memory they were barely a challenge. Several of the Priories in which she had lived were at least as complicated.

As she made her way toward Lady Nishima’s apartment, she was aware that people often turned and watched her pass. She supposed that failed
Botahist Sisters seldom took service with Great Houses though she really did not know and, in truth, it seemed unimportant to her.

To gain admittance to the wing that contained Lady Nishima’s rooms Shimeko had to give a password and a hand sign, which reminded her that she had once memorized a Shonto hand signal on the Grand Canal. It seemed so long ago.

A servant went off to announce Shimeko to her mistress, and she worked to control her nerves as she waited.

*   *   *

Lady Nishima was still haunted by her conversation with Kitsura. Jaku Katta had readily agreed to use his sources within the Imperial court to find out if Kitsura’s family were in danger. To Nishima’s surprise he had even agreed to have a letter delivered secretly to the Omawara family—both acts that the Emperor would find deeply suspicious if he were to know of them, and there was every chance that the Emperor would know.

Did this mean that Jaku had truly fallen out of favor at court? If so, then her uncle’s belief that Jaku could help secure the support of the Emperor was entirely wrong and most dangerous.

All of this she found disturbing news. She touched the folded letter Kitsura had delivered from Jaku and tried to control her anger. Such presumption! To have made advances to Kitsura and then to ask her to deliver a letter to Nishima! One expected more, even of an Imperial Guardsman. She shuddered. How close she had come to making a fool of herself. How very close.

There was no doubt that Jaku Katta was an opportunist of the worst order. And now there was a great possibility that he was no longer in the Emperor’s favor. All that remained was to hear from Kitsura’s family to see if indeed Jaku had risked delivering the message. Did he really believe that Kitsura Omawara had no way of sending letters secretly to her own family?

He expects so little of us, Nishima thought, not for the first time. With some effort she pushed Jaku from her thoughts.

It had been three days since Nishima had asked the former Botahist nun, Shimeko, to research the cult that had dwelt in Denji Gorge, and she had been consumed with curiosity the entire time. Shimeko was on her way with the results of her efforts even now. Nishima found it difficult to maintain her tranquillity.

Fortunately, she did not have to wait long. A servant tapped on her door and announced Shimeko.

“Ah, yes. Please, bring her to me.”

The young woman was shown in and knelt, bowing, Nishima noted, in the plain fashion rather than in the style of her Order.

“Shimeko-sum, I trust you have been given quarters and some instruction as I requested?”

“I have, Lady Nishima, thank you.”

“Is it more difficult than you imagined? Life beyond the priory?”