Autumn Princess, Dragon Child

by Lian Hearn

  “Kuromori will have to be dealt with eventually,” Takaakira said. “In the meantime I have a task for you. I do want you to go to Rakuhara. Everyone suspects you of spying for the Kakizuki, so you will return to them, but you will be spying for us. Now you have lost your inheritance it will be a consolation for you.”

  When Masachika did not answer, Takaakira went on, “I am doing this for Keisaku’s sake, since we are neighbors. I know you do not lack courage, Masachika. I have seen you in battle. But you have a self-serving nature that makes you untrustworthy. This is your chance to redeem yourself. If you refuse, Lord Aritomo will require you to take your own life in compensation for your failure, and to wipe out the suspicions that are growing around you.”

  “I will do whatever you and Lord Aritomo command,” Masachika said, prostrating himself. But beneath his feigned humility his mind was searching desperately for some new strategy that might improve his position.

  “Good. You will leave tomorrow. That will be all.” Takaakira gave a brief nod and turned away, but Masachika did not want the interview to end on such unequal terms, nor did he like the idea of his life and future held in the other man’s hands.

  “May I ask one question?” he said, as he sat up.

  The lord gave his permission with another slight nod.

  He was playing for time, not even sure what question he was going to ask, when an image of the house in the capital came into his mind and he made one of his intuitive stabs in the dark.

  “I believe your lordship has taken over Kiyoyori’s old house in the capital.” He felt Takaakira’s flash of surprise and anger and knew he had hit on something. “Don’t misunderstand me; it is an honor for our family. But was his daughter there? Did she survive?”

  “I did not know whose the house was, or even that Kiyoyori had a daughter. The place was empty,” Takaakira replied. “That’s all I can tell you.”

  But something in his face told Masachika that the noble lord of the Snow Country was lying.

  3

  AKI

  When Shikanoko left, Aki lay rigid with shock, tears pooling in her eyes and spilling over her cheeks. She could never become a shrine maiden now, never undo what they had done. She was filled with regret and fear—surely the gods would punish them? After a while she picked up the catalpa bow and went to the stream to wash herself, her blood disappearing into the cold water. She was shivering, not only from the chill but also from emotions she did not recognize. She blamed herself as much as him. The world was colorless, leached of enchantment and mystery. Yet there had been both earlier, something had taken place, some spell had been cast over them, girl and boy, that neither had been able to resist.

  I could have fought him off, she thought, as the water flowed over her, I could have killed him. Why didn’t I? And she answered herself, Because I wanted to touch his skin, place my mouth on his, be held by him and hold him, and I have done so ever since I saw him, when those men lay dead, killed by his arrows. But I did not know it would be like that, so brutal, so painful. And now I have done exactly what my father told me not to do. It can never be undone. I am another person now.

  Like a wild animal, she longed to flee into the forest. Then she thought of killing herself, but she had left her knife in the hut; and she could not leave Yoshi. While he lived she must live, too.

  It began to rain. Not wanting to return to the hut, yet needing to think clearly, she stood up, pulled her robe around her, and walked to the cave, where the horses were tied up on long lines.

  Nyorin was standing, and whinnied softly at her approach. Risu was lying down, and did not want to get up. They must have been restless during the night, for they had stepped over the loose ropes several times and had entangled themselves. She untied them and pulled the ropes free. Then she lay down next to the mare, within the cradle of her legs, and rested her head on her belly. She imagined she could hear the foal’s heartbeat. Could the spirit of Lord Kiyoyori really have taken possession of it? She remembered him from the few times she had seen him, his courageous bearing, his imposing looks. How pitiful his fate had been. Tears formed in her eyes. She could hear the soft dripping from the rocks and trees around the cave, a gentle, soothing sound. Nyorin stamped. Risu whickered.

  Her mind began to drift. Suddenly she was dreaming of monkeys. She awoke to hear someone calling her name.

  “Akihime!”

  Nyorin neighed loudly and Risu began to struggle to her feet.

  He called again. “Akihime!”

  She did not want to go out to him. How could she meet his gaze? She shrank back for a moment, listening to the dawn’s birdsong, the constant dripping of the rain, the babble of the stream. Yet she wanted to see him; almost against her will, her feet led her outside, the bow gripped in her hand.

  She saw the masked figure come from the hut with Yoshimori. It looked like a being from a dream or from the distant magical past. The antlers gave it height and authority, and it moved in a way that was neither human nor animal but that exuded force and power.

  Hardly believing her eyes, she saw the kneeling boy, the drawn sword, as if they were part of the dream. For a few moments she stood without moving, the horses, as motionless, beside her, their ears pricked forward, their eyes startled. Then she raised the catalpa bow and twanged it, she heard the scream of the werehawk, and, as if the sound of the bow released them, the horses bolted from the cave, Risu in the lead.

  Aki ran after them, and watched as they attacked Shikanoko.

  She thought they had killed him. Sobbing with grief and shock and fury, she ran to Yoshi and held him close against her. Kon fluttered around her head, saying something she did not understand. Yoshi clung to her, trembling. He muttered something.

  Aki bent down. “What?”

  “I was brave, wasn’t I?”

  “You were very brave,” she said.

  “Was Shikanoko going to cut my head off?”

  “Yes!” she screamed, then tried, for the boy’s sake, to control herself.

  “Why? I thought he was going to protect us.”

  “I thought so, too. But he is in the service of a very powerful man who wants to kill you. Shikanoko has to obey him.”

  “I liked him,” Yoshi said, sadness in his eyes.

  “Like, like? What does that mean?” Aki replied. It was far too tame a word. “Luckily, some other force is looking after you. Heaven itself is protecting you. But we must get away from this place.”

  “And leave him here?”

  Shikanoko’s eyelids fluttered briefly and he cried out in pain but did not wake. Yoshi looked down on him. “Shouldn’t we take care of him?”

  “He was going to kill you,” Aki said. “He will try again.”

  “We should love our enemies,” Yoshi said stubbornly.

  “Where did you get that idea from?” Aki was wondering if she should finish Shikanoko off before he regained consciousness.

  “I heard the old man on the boat tell the musicians. I liked it.”

  “I remember him,” Aki said. It seemed like something from a different world.

  “I don’t want anyone else to die.” Yoshi was close to tears.

  “Come,” she said gently. “We are going to get away before he wakes; we will leave him to Heaven. Fetch Genzo and my knife while I get the horses ready.”

  He nodded, gave one more worried look at Shikanoko, and went to the hut, the werehawk fluttering after him. It had more gold feathers than ever, Aki noticed. They gleamed through the misty rain.

  The horses, calm now, lowered their heads to their unconscious master and drew in his smell. Then they followed Aki docilely to the cave and stood while she fumbled with the saddle and bridles. When Yoshi returned, she put the knife in her belt and tied the lute on her back. Was that the faintest echo of the love song?

  “Traitor,” she said to it silently. “I should burn you!”

  She lifted Yoshi onto Risu’s back.

  “You don’t have to hold the rei
ns. I’ll knot them on her neck and lead you.”

  “I can ride,” he said. “Anyway, Risu won’t let anything bad happen to me.”

  Aki was surprised he knew the mare’s name. “What’s the stallion called?”

  “Nyorin. It means Silver. And the werehawk’s name is Kon—Gold. That’s funny, isn’t it? Silver and Gold.”

  “Do you listen to everything, and remember it?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I understand it, mostly, though sometimes not till later, after I’ve thought about it for a while.”

  He will be a fine emperor, Aki said to herself. And he will have seen life in a way no other emperor has.

  “Where are we going now?” Yoshi said, as she scrambled up onto Nyorin’s back. The stallion was much taller than the mare, but he waited patiently, and let her settle in the saddle and take up the reins, before he moved off.

  “I’m not sure.” Aki was trying to form a plan. They had the horses, the werehawk—if it, too, did not betray them and fly back to Ryusonji—and the untrustworthy lute. She had her knife and the catalpa bow, and she knew a little about the herbs and seeds of the forest. But they could not hide out there forever, not in winter, though that was still half a year away. She decided to ride north, keeping away from the roads, to Rinrakuji, as her father had told her to. Maybe someone who could help them had survived there. If not, she would go on to Kitakami and from there down the Kitagawa and the western side of the lake to Nishimi.

  “I will show you where I lived when I was a little girl,” she told Yoshi. Nishimi was closer to where the Kakizuki were in exile. There she would find the men and the arms Yoshi was going to need.

  She explained this out loud, as though she expected the werehawk and the horses to understand it, and let Nyorin have his head. He immediately set out up the valley to the east. She thought they should be heading north, but the valley grew narrower and the forest thicker; east was the only direction possible unless they turned back. But the fear of finding Shikanoko dead made that impossible.

  After a couple of hours the rain stopped. The sun had climbed high in the sky and now its rays pierced the clouds. It became very hot, the earth steaming around them. The horses stopped in a grassy clearing where the mountain stream had formed pools filled with bulrushes and lotus stems. They drank deeply and then began to tear at the long grass.

  “It looks like we’re taking a rest,” Aki said. She slid down from Nyorin’s back, flinching at the pain, noticing she had left smears of blood on his silver coat, and helped Yoshi dismount. A dove was calling from the forest and she could hear the pretty whistle of something she thought might be a grosbeak, though she knew it only from poetry.

  Yoshi said, “Older sister, what are we going to eat?”

  “Good question,” Aki said. “We could always eat grass like Risu and Nyorin.”

  Yoshi pulled up a few blades, crammed them in his mouth, chewed bravely for a few moments, then spat them out.

  “No? I’ll have to see what else I can find. You rest here, under that tree. Keep an eye on the horses. Don’t let them stray out of sight. And look after Genzo.”

  She waded into one of the pools and pulled up the rushes, throwing them to the bank behind her. The mud was cool and soothing to her feet. Little fishes darted away through the tawny water, but she had nothing to catch them with. Farther up the stream, she saw a flash of gold and Kon flew up with a loud squawk, a small sweetfish in his talons.

  “Take it to Yoshi,” she called, but Kon was already flying back to the tree. It returned and took another fish from the water. Aki felt her stomach ache at the thought of food. How long was it since they had eaten? She could not remember.

  She cut the succulent roots from the rushes and chewed on one. The grosbeak sang again and this time she saw it, gray and black, flying to a rock in the stream. A wagtail answered, and then above the birdsong came music. Genzo was playing, the same love song from the previous night, awakening the longing and the fear she had been trying to forget.

  “I will smash that lute,” she cried, “heirloom or not!”

  She ran back to the tree where Yoshi sat cross-legged. Kon was tearing pieces off the fish and feeding him like a baby bird. The lute’s decoration sparkled in the sun as the music poured from it.

  And around them in a half circle, just like in her dream, sat ten or more gray-furred, rosy-faced, green-eyed monkeys.

  Aki stood still. She had never been so close to wild monkeys and she was uncertain how they would behave. She did not want to be attacked by them nor did she want to scare them away. Was it the lute that enchanted them, or Yoshi? Did they recognize him in some way as the divine Emperor? Of course, she reasoned to herself, they should, all creatures should, since the true emperor was the link between Heaven and earth. It was his prayers and rituals that kept both in balance and harmony, affecting the well-being of monkeys as much as men.

  A usurper on the throne would cause disasters and catastrophes, earthquakes, plagues, fires, and floods. Maybe these were already occurring in the capital. She had no way of knowing. The forest was so peaceful, the birds singing, the grass lush and bright with wildflowers.

  Yoshi saw her and called out, “Look, older sister! Monkeys!”

  She remembered he had called that out once before, at the island market at Majima, by the Rainbow Bridge, when he had seen the boy he had so much admired and his monkey friends. And she had dreamed of monkeys. Was it a sign that fate had brought them together for some purpose?

  In the middle of the semicircle a large female sat nursing a baby. Something about her suggested authority, and Aki approached her with deference. Genzo stopped playing and the monkeys all turned their heads and chattered softly. Aki fell to her knees as she would to a court lady, or the Crown Princess herself, held out the catalpa bow and laid it down, and bowed to the ground. The monkey matriarch put out a hand and gently scratched the girl’s head, put her fingers to her nose and sniffed them, then shuffled a little closer, shifting the baby to the other nipple, and began to run her fingers through Aki’s cropped hair, searching for fleas, grooming her.

  Aki submitted without moving and felt some deep, wordless connection with the old monkey: acceptance, the assurance of protection and support. Tears formed in her eyes suddenly. Somehow under the gentle fingers she went from a kneeling position to lying down. She could hear the horses tearing at the grass. Through the foliage the sun cast leafy patterns on her closed eyelids. The monkeys chattered to one another. Yoshi laughed. Kon called in response, almost tunefully.

  The day passed, and at dusk they followed the monkeys to a place where hot water bubbled up into rock-edged pools. Here the monkeys lived. Yoshi wanted nothing more than to stay with them, and Aki could not refuse him.

  4

  TAKAAKIRA

  Takaakira had kept the girl hidden in her old home in the capital for several months. When he returned from Minatogura, he had made more searching enquiries and found the house had indeed been the residence of Kiyoyori’s family, as he had learned from Masachika. The girl must be Kiyoyori’s daughter.

  The realization made him both angry and surprised at himself. He prided himself on knowing all the secrets of the city; how could he not have seen what was in front of his eyes? Kiyoyori might have been only a provincial warrior, but his unwavering support of the Crown Prince, his noble death, the mysterious death of his son, and the legends that were growing up around them ensured his name was still very much alive. The Prince Abbot, who had grown even more powerful now he was uncle to the Emperor, hated Kiyoyori, even more in death than in life.

  Takaakira had told Masachika that the house was empty, but when he recalled the other man’s expression it made him uneasy. He did not want to give Masachika any influence over him. He was the girl’s uncle, after all. What was to prevent him turning up at his former home and discovering her? Would he recognize her? Did she resemble her father? Why had he suddenly asked about the house? Had something made him suspect tha
t Kiyoyori’s daughter had survived? The risk of being betrayed by Masachika, or anyone else, began to disturb him. He must either hide her somewhere else or kill her himself. If she were discovered, she would be tortured and put to death and he—he could not imagine what punishment Lord Aritomo would devise for him.

  He knew he could never bring himself to end her life. Every day she delighted him more with her intelligence and wit, and her beauty, on the cusp of womanhood. He loved her like a daughter, but he dreamed of holding her in his arms as his wife. She seemed to adore him; she sought to please him, she learned rapidly. When he was away, the servants told him, she spent her time studying, fretting for his return. By the end of summer she was reading fluently. He brought scrolls for her from his own library in Minatogura, works of literature and history, essays and poems. She grasped the essentials of poetry swiftly and began writing poems every day for him.

  He educated her taste in clothes, colors and materials. He taught her to discern incense and perfume, he played music and demonstrated dance steps, found women to instruct her and moved them into his household.

  She was a consolation to him during a difficult time. The city was hit by a series of disasters. A fire broke out in the sixth month and destroyed most of the newly completed buildings. An epidemic of sickness raged for weeks, leaving thousands dead. Smoke from funeral pyres darkened the skies and many of those who survived succumbed to starvation as the rains came for three weeks and then dried up. Rice crops failed, beans withered on the stem, fruit did not ripen. The new emperor offered prayers for rain and as if in mockery Heaven sent a ferocious typhoon that swept across the country, flooding rivers and washing away bridges. Water ran waist-deep through the streets of the capital, gravid with the bodies of the drowned.

  People began to say openly that Heaven was outraged, that they were being punished for the crimes of their rulers. These mutterings eventually reached the ears of Lord Aritomo, he who prided himself on his fair government and his justice, who had sought to remedy the excesses of the Kakizuki and had expected Heaven to smile on him.