The Initiate Brother Duology (82 page)

Shimeko shrugged. “It is not as different as one would expect, my lady. It is a small world contained within its own walls, seldom encountering the world beyond. In this way it is much the same. In other ways,” she shrugged again, “it is not so similar.”

Nishima nodded. “How went your search of our archive?”

“It is a small archive, Lady Nishima, as one would expect of an outer province. References to the Sect of the Eightfold Path were, therefore, few.” She began to arrange her documents on the mats in front of her.

“Most of the written works of the Sect of the Eightfold Path were destroyed during what the historians refer to as the Inter-temple Wars. Much of what is now believed is undoubtedly conjecture. As you suggested, the Imperial Historians of the time—the reign of Emperor Chonso-sa—made their dutiful records.

“The fanes beside the Lake of the Seven Masters were built after the time of our Lord, Botahara. References in the travel journals of Lord Bashu indicate that followers of Botahara had made their dwellings there as early as one hundred and sixty years after the Passing. It may be true that originally the sculptures were not meant to be dwellings but were only adapted to this function when the Botahist Sects began to war. Excuse me, Lady Nishima, do I speak only of things already known to you?”

“I confess to a poor memory for history, Shimeko-sum. Please, continue.”

Shimeko looked back at her papers. “After the Passing, several different branches of Botahist teaching developed and these flourished according to the support of different Houses or even the Emperor. Large grants of land were often made to the temples and these, it is said, became the source of considerable wealth. This wealth was coveted by different Houses and by rival branches of Botahist doctrine—by the Emperor himself in some cases. This led to the Botahist fascination with the arts of war. They defended their possessions ruthlessly.”

“At this time Botahist monks went about armed and some of the temples
supported large armies. They rivaled the Emperor for power and often were able to make demands of the Great Council of State that the government dared not refuse. But the temples warred among themselves, and during this period many Botahist sects were destroyed, including the Sect of the Eightfold Path.”

She looked up. “This differs from my own teaching, Lady Nishima. I was taught that the sects were destroyed by overzealous followers of the rival temples and also by the Emperor.” Having said this, she returned to her papers.

“According to the histories, the Botahist temples weakened themselves during the Inter-temple Wars and finally the Emperor Chonso-sa, recognizing the opportunity, crushed the remaining sects. He limited the size of the Botahist estates and forbade the Botahist monks to carry arms.”

Pausing for a moment, she pointed to three rolled scrolls. “These histories are written here, Lady Nishima, if you would care to read them yourself.”

“I may look at them later, Shimeko-sum. I am curious, what did these Brothers believe? What was their doctrine?”

The former nun looked back down at her papers.

From what Nishima knew of the Sisters’ training, this reference to written material was entirely unnecessary— the Acolyte’s memory should have been close to flawless. Most curious.

“They believed in the Seven Paths to enlightenment, Lady Nishima.” She hesitated. “They believed also that the act of physical love was the Eighth Path…you call them Brothers, Lady Nishima, but it seems there were Sisters also.”

“How very strange. Do we know the nature of their beliefs, Shimeko-sum?” Nishima said with studied casualness.

“The scholars do not agree on this, Lady Nishima. It seems likely that the sect’s doctrine was akin to the ancient Shodo Hermits’ belief that the path through the Illusion lay in overcoming the senses. Unlike the Sect of the Eightfold Path, however, the Shodo Hermits did this through the experience of pain.” Shimeko took a long, involuntary breath. “It is said they achieved levels of focus through meditation while undergoing what could only be described as torture. They would never cry out or show the slightest signs of pain no matter what was done to them. Indeed, it is believed that the Shodo Masters could turn the agony into any feeling they desired, and it
would be of equal intensity. The followers of the Eightfold Path may have believed something similar, though they substituted pleasure for pain.”

Lady Nishima suppressed a shudder.

“It is all written here, my lady,” Shimeko said, looking down at her gathered scrolls.

“Yes. You said the scholars did not agree?”

Shimeko nodded. “There are other thoughts. One school believes there is evidence that the sect believed the soul was divided into halves that could only be united through the act of physical love. Another thought the Sect of the Eightfold Path believed that denial of the Illusion was futile, one found one’s way through it like a person groping through fog. They wrote that the followers believed one must experience the falseness of the Illusion to see beyond it and desire is the essence of Illusion. There are other scholars with other thoughts, but these represent the main schools of belief, Lady Nishima.”

“I see.” Lady Nishima sat, lost in thought and then she met her secretary’s gaze. “And what were you taught in the priory, Shimeko-sum?”

Shimeko looked down. “Only that the Eightfold Path was a heresy, my lady. Acolytes needed to know nothing more than that.”

Nishima nodded. No doubt this was true.

“Will that be all, Lady Nishima?” Shimeko asked flatly.

Nishima smiled. “I thank you for your efforts, Shimeko-sum.” She straightened a fold in her robe. “There is something else…. Before I left the capital, it came to my attention that a senior Sister of your Order…your former Order, had taken an interest in one of my maids. Before this was known, the Sister had managed to learn some few things about myself and my House. Why would they have this interest in me, Shimeko-sum?”

Shimeko opened her hands. “You are Shonto, Lady Nishima.”

“That would be all?”

“I do not know, Lady Nishima, but it is certainly enough.”

“You know nothing of the Sisterhood’s effort to spy on the Shonto?”

Shimeko sat in silence for several seconds. “I know, my lady, that senior Sister Morima, with whom I traveled to Seh, had come to observe your Spiritual Advisor.”

“Brother Shuyun.” Nishima said unnecessarily.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Why?”

Shimeko sat staring at the floor for some time. “Within the Sisterhood it
is the belief of some,” she said in a whisper, “that Brother Shuyun is the Teacher who was spoken of. The Udumbara has blossomed in Monarta. I know it is said to be a rumor but it is not. Sisters have seen it.”

“I see,” Nishima said, surprised by the flatness of her voice. She looked at the young woman who sat before her, staring at the floor, almost huddled into herself, unable even to look up. She is in the grip of some terrible inner battle, Nishima realized. “Do you believe Shuyun is the Teacher, Shimeko-sum?”

The woman seemed to draw into herself even more. “Brother Shuyun says he is not, Lady Nishima.” She shrugged, tried to speak, then her shoulders moved again like a weak convulsion. “Perhaps…perhaps he is not. I do not know.”

The two women sat for some time, the distance between them a vast gulf of experience, belief, and desire.

“That will be all, Shimeko-sum,” Nishima said at last, “I thank you.”

S
NOW FELL ON the night of the Celebration of the First Moon—the substance of clouds floating to earth, layering Seh with white, like the Plum Blossom Winds of spring. Snows were neither frequent nor extreme in the Province of Seh and for that reason were greeted as pleasant novelties, relief from the winter rains. The First Moon Festival proceeded without pause for the weather.

The people of Seh gathered in the villages and the Manor Houses of their liege-lords where the rites and festivities took place. By far the most elaborate, if not the largest, gathering was held in the center courtyard of the Imperial Governor’s Palace. Many of the peers of the northern province had accepted invitations and the fact that several of these lords represented the military power of Seh was not incidental.

The governor watched the celebrations from the top of the covered stairs that led from the Great Hall down into the courtyard. Shifting about occasionally in his unfamiliar state robes, Lord Shonto sat in the place of honor and managed to appear captivated by the scene. Below him on the stairs sat the Ladies Nishima and Kitsura, senior officials of the Council of Seh, several lords of high rank, and various guests of note, Lady Okara among them. Those who did not sit with Lord Shonto in comparative comfort, stood under parasols in throngs about the courtyard. Above them, strings of lanterns cast a pleasing light on the long silk robes and illuminated the slowly falling snow.

Dressed in costumes of fox and bear and owl, children performed a dance
to the music of flute and drum. It was a more complex dance than one would have expected of their age, very stylized and rigid in its movements, yet it was not marred by a single misstep. The performers approached their roles with the utmost gravity, apparently unaware that this was certainly the least serious part of the ceremony.

Earlier in the evening Botahist monks had performed ancient rites in observance of the First Moon and to ensure a bountiful and harmonious year—burning incense to the four winds and chanting the prayer for spring rains. Once that had been done, however, the celebration took on a more festive air. Many-colored silk banners stirred in response to the occasional breath of wind as did the fine robes of the men and women present. Perfume mingled with the scent of burning oils and the pungent odor of charcoal, stirring themselves together as though the courtyard were a giant perfumer’s bowl.

The children’s dance ended and Lord Shonto, in his official capacity, congratulated the performers as though they were the finest Sonsa in all of Wa. Gifts were distributed, and the dancers bowed their thanks in great style.

Servants hurried about with cauldrons of steaming rice wine, for no one could be without rice wine for the first glimpse of the moon. Anxious eyes kept looking skyward, hoping that one of the breaks that appeared occasionally in the clouds would position itself propitiously, but their attention could not remain there.

A sudden burst of flame signaled the entrance of the dragon, as one of Seh’s finest dancers appeared in the elaborate costume. Lady Okara had taken a hand in the design and her efforts, coupled with the skills of the dancer, created a stunning effect. Long of tail, the blue-scaled monster slithered most convincingly from shadow to shadow to the delight of man, woman, and child. After several attempts the dragon captured the moon, a silvered disk illuminated by lantern light. Attendants snuffed many of the lights then, casting the courtyard into partial shadow.

Far off, a conch sounded a long, lonely note muted by the falling snow. The dragon slithered on, gloating over its prize. Again the note, closer this time. The dragon pricked up its ears but then went back to its exploration of the courtyard, darting suddenly at a group of children who fled, screaming.

A long, sustained note came from over a nearby wall. The dragon stopped
in its tracks, turning dramatically. Fire licked from a strategically placed pot as though it were the breath of the dragon.

Backlit under a great arch, Yoshinaga, the Seventh Prince, appeared, leading his gray war horse. The dragon began to thrash its tail and sway back and forth.

Leaving his mount behind, the second dancer drew his sword and entered the courtyard. Battle ensued—dragon cunning and claw against courage and steel. The dance itself was ancient of form though visitors from the capital were surprised to see that, in Seh, some liberties were taken.

Wooden drums beat out an ominous time. The climax of the battle took place as Yoshinaga, wrapped in the dragon’s tail, drove his sword into the dragon’s soft breast. The dragon fell upon him and with his last strength the Prince tossed the disk of the moon out into the darkness.

Everyone turned now, for if all had been timed correctly the crescent moon should rise over the wall in that instant. A soft glow in the cloud began to grow and then, through a small tear, the moon appeared to sighs of relief and raised cups of rice wine. Eyes returned to earth in time to see the spirit of Yoshinaga, now clad in a flowing white robe, mount his gray steed and ride off into the night. The dragon was gone.

The performance at an end, the gathering began to move inside except for those few who remained on vigil hoping to sight a falling star—said to be Yoshinaga riding across the heavens—a sign of good fortune for those who witnessed it.

The celebration broke into many groups and spread through three halls. Music and dance and poetry and endless talk were the evening’s fare and there was no one to complain of too rich a diet.

Lady Nishima planned all her activities so that she might avoid contact with General Jaku Katta, and so practiced at this skill was she that the General was beginning to realize that, as a tactician, the lady showed more subtlety than he had ever aspired to. Once, when he had been close to speaking to her, Nishima had drawn him into a discussion with several of Seh’s least interesting conversationalists and then abandoned him there, without the skills to make a polite escape as she had done.