Autumn Princess, Dragon Child

by Lian Hearn

  “Neither Shikanoko nor anyone else will be moving if this continues,” Takaakira said. “All the rivers between here and Minatogura are in flood and the country is devastated.”

  “It is your evil doing that has caused it,” Aki said. “You know how to bring back harmony between Heaven and earth.”

  “Silence!” Aritomo had gone pale and a muscle was twitching in his cheek. “Takaakira,” he said in a tight voice. “Take the Princess away to Ryusonji. We will see what the Prince Abbot can find out from her. And have Masachika make a full report on the situation at Rakuhara.”

  * * *

  The guards escorted Akihime out of the room. Takaakira and Masachika bowed deeply to Lord Aritomo and left together. Masachika followed the other man to a small room overlooking the garden. He was slightly worried that Takaakira would comment on the sword, but it was disguised in his old scabbard, and, in some way, he knew it was not going to draw attention to itself. The eyes were in their carved rosewood box, tucked inside the breast of his hunting robe. He wondered how much Takaakira knew about them.

  A solid curtain of rain fell from the eaves and the once-beautiful garden was sodden. Water lay on the paths in huge puddles and all the pools were overflowing.

  Masachika reported all he had learned during his months with the Kakizuki army—weapons, numbers of men and horses, fighting spirit—and described the luxury in which Lord Keita lived and, finally, Keita’s hopes of finding Yoshimori.

  Takaakira listened without comment, saying at the end, “Well, write it all down and bring the document to me at my house tomorrow. You can write, I suppose?”

  Masachika noted the contemptuous tone and said blandly, “Of course,” while thinking, Don’t be too quick to antagonize me, noble lord. You will be begging me, before too long. And don’t forget that what you call your house is as much mine as yours.

  After Takaakira left, Masachika called for writing materials and something to eat and drink. All were supplied swiftly and politely. His status had risen, he concluded with considerable gratification. It took him some time to compose his report—his writing was adequate for recording the various exploits of warriors on the battlefield and he was familiar with that vocabulary, but, in striving to make his work both clear and elegant, he realized there were many words he was not sure of. He had to spell them out, rather than using their ideograms, and he feared it made the report look womanly, childish.

  By the time he had finished, it was almost dark; the rain was heavier than ever. A servant came to remove the utensils, and he said he would spend the night where he was.

  “Certainly, lord,” she said, prostrating herself. “I will fetch some bedding.”

  When she returned, she brought new robes. “From Lord Aritomo,” she murmured.

  Masachika settled down for the night, under the padded silk, feeling reasonably pleased with himself.

  * * *

  The next day he presented himself at the house that had been his father’s, and then Kiyoyori’s, and was now occupied by Takaakira. He wore the new clothes, a brocade hunting robe and embroidered trousers. Together with the eyes in their box and the sword at his side, they gave him confidence, but even more than these, it was the secret he held in his heart that would put him on an equal footing with Takaakira.

  The lord of the Snow Country looked as if he had spent a sleepless night. Masachika wondered, as he had several times already, what the man’s purpose was in keeping Kiyoyori’s daughter alive, in defiance of Aritomo’s orders. Perhaps he had fallen in love with her—some men did lust after young girls—but why take such a risk? There were plenty of maidens in the city. Why choose Kiyoyori’s daughter?

  No doubt you are regretting your rashness now, he thought, raising his eyes insolently to Takaakira’s pale face and hollow eyes.

  He had presented the report and it lay on the floor at Takaakira’s side. They were alone in the room and the rain was so loud, there was little chance of being overheard. Nevertheless Takaakira gestured that Masachika should move closer and whispered, “Did you find anyone else at Nishimi?”

  Masachika pretended to look puzzled. “Lord?”

  “A young girl was living there, my ward.”

  “Your ward?”

  “Yes. She is called Hina.”

  “My niece, Hina? My brother’s daughter?”

  Takaakira did not say anything, but the expression on his face nearly compensated Masachika for all the petty humiliations he had endured. Nearly but not quite.

  “She was believed to be dead,” he said. “Can it be that she lives, after all? What joy!”

  “What a scoundrel you are,” Takaakira said. “How could you and Kiyoyori be brothers?”

  “I’m surprised you are so free with your insults! I only have to mention my niece, and her lucky escape, to Aritomo and your life will be over.”

  “My life is over if she is dead,” Takaakira said, somber.

  Masachika stared at him. “It’s true, isn’t it, that no man is without at least one weakness? A little girl has aroused your lust and you will throw everything away for that?”

  “It’s nothing like that. If I love her, it is as a daughter. She is a miracle, so intelligent, so gifted—but I will not discuss her with you.”

  “Well, many men sleep with their daughters,” Masachika said crudely. “You would not be the first.”

  “Is she alive?”

  “She ran away.”

  “Where to? Did anyone see her go?”

  “I’m afraid I only have conflicting reports. One person said Hina jumped aboard a boat with the baby.”

  “What baby?”

  “Akihime’s son,” Masachika said.

  “You did not mention that earlier in the report,” Takaakira said.

  “I thought that information should rest between us for the time being. It may not matter, at all, for the other eyewitness said Hina fell into the lake with the baby in her arms. The water is very deep by the dock, and I believe they both drowned.”

  Takaakira covered his eyes with one hand. When he could speak he said, “I presume you searched the house and questioned the servants?”

  “Of course,” Masachika replied.

  “Did you find a box containing … something unusual? A small, beautifully carved box of rosewood?”

  “No, lord,” Masachika said, feeling the box burn against his ribs.

  “Then she must have taken it with her.” The idea seemed to console Takaakira somewhat. “I cannot believe she is dead.”

  “Shall I make a more detailed report for Lord Aritomo?” Masachika managed to convey sympathy and menace at the same time.

  Takaakira gave him a long, unwavering look of pure contempt. “I suppose we must come to some arrangement,” he said. “If she is dead you can tell him what you choose. I will offer him my life in atonement. But if there is a chance she is alive, I must live and I must find her. What must I do to persuade you to keep this to yourself for now?”

  “Are you suggesting I have a price?” Masachika said, pretending affront.

  “We all have our price,” Takaakira replied bitterly. “I just hope yours is not too high.”

  * * *

  After this, Masachika found it easy to obtain permission from Takaakira to do whatever he desired. He rationed his requests, not wanting to push the lord too far. At one time he thought he would demand Kiyoyori’s old house for himself, but decided against it. First he would secure Matsutani. Now that he had Sesshin’s eyes, he was sure he could pacify and control the rebellious spirits. He proposed he should be the one to find Shikanoko and tell him they held the Autumn Princess in Miyako.

  Takaakira agreed to approach Lord Aritomo, who gave his permission readily. It had been necessary to apply pressure to the Princess, enough to persuade her to talk but not so much as to kill her. Aritomo wanted her alive. She was watched day and night lest she try to take her own life, but despite the pain and the lack of sleep she revealed nothing other than that Yoshi
mori had been stolen away from her. She would not say where or how.

  “If we bring them together,” Aritomo said, “we will easily persuade the Princess to talk, and we will prevent any further Kakizuki uprisings.

  “Secure Matsutani, send a message from there, and let me know Shikanoko’s response immediately. Don’t try to capture him or engage him in battle. The Prince Abbot wants him to be drawn into the capital so he can be taken alive.”

  Once again Masachika found himself at the head of a band of men riding toward Matsutani. The Prince Abbot sent one of his monks with him, a young man with a fine muscular body and a face ruined as if by fire. His name was Eisei. He covered his features, what was left of them, with a black silk cloth, above which his lashless eyes darted, like a lizard’s. Masachika learned his injuries had been caused in some way by Shikanoko. Eisei was an adept in esoteric practices, which would be useful, for everyone knew by now that Shikanoko was not only a warrior but also a sorcerer.

  Their journey was delayed by downpours, flooded rivers, and a kind of sullen hostility among porters, innkeepers, ferrymen, in fact almost everyone they had to deal with. Horses went lame, provisions disappeared, mildew sprang out on everything, reins and tempers snapped. People grumbled openly that the Miboshi lords had offended the gods and they were being punished for it.

  “You should cut out their tongues,” Eisei said to Masachika.

  “Then I would make an entire population dumb,” he replied. He pretended to be unaffected by the unrest that seethed just below the surface of everyday life, but as usual he was calculating his best chances. The Miboshi were powerful and well armed, Aritomo single-minded and ruthless, blessed by the support of the Prince Abbot, but if Heaven had turned its face against him … Masachika was keeping all possible choices in the balance.

  Once again, he passed through the barrier at Shimaura. The Kakizuki skulls had long been removed, but he thought of the living, at Kuromori, now immeasurably strengthened by Shikanoko. They would consider themselves betrayed by him and were no doubt thirsting for revenge.

  He learned here that Shikanoko was still at Kuromori, his forces growing in number daily as disaffected and dispossessed men found their way to him. The guards at the barrier were tense and resentful, tired of the constant rain, the flooding river, the gales that kept ships confined to port. They complained to Masachika that their supplies were dwindling, they were too few to fight off an attack, and if they were overwhelmed the road would be cut between Miyako and Minatogura.

  Masachika knew he had many failings. He was quite prepared to live with dishonor rather than end his life prematurely, but he did not consider himself a coward. He was aware that most of his small band of men mistrusted him; the disaster of the first raid, in which comrades and cousins had died, was still fresh in their memories, and everyone knew he had spent six months with the Kakizuki. The capture of the Princess, and his rise in standing with Aritomo, counted in his favor, but there were still whispers. Once a spy, always a spy. A man who turns once will turn twice. He resolved he would ride to Matsutani openly, showing neither hesitation nor fear. He dismissed the guards’ complaints and scoffed at the rumors that Shikanoko had supernatural powers, employed invisible imps and artificial warriors that could not be killed, and talked to the dead.

  Eisei took such rumors seriously, explaining to Masachika that that was why the Prince Abbot wanted him alive. “He wants to understand the source of these skills so he can control them himself. Shikanoko has a mask, fashioned from a stag’s skull; it gives him all the power of the forest, but only he can use it.” He touched the silk veil that covered his face. “It burns anyone else.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  Eisei nodded. “Before that, I was my lord’s favorite. Now I am disfigured. I bring pollution into his presence. He looks on me with pity. He is good to me, and kind, but it is not pity I want from him, or from anyone. I used to be at his side during secret rituals of great power. He showed me wonders and took me to realms that are hidden from ordinary people. Now all that is barred to me. From time to time he graciously allows me into his presence, but I don’t like to accept too often. I am afraid I will infect him with my bad fortune. So I sweep the floors and tend the gardens. It is all I am good for.”

  “You were lucky you did not lose your eyes,” Masachika said.

  “If I were blind, I would not be aware of my disfigurement,” Eisei replied. “I would not see pity and revulsion on the faces of others. I had lost all interest in life; indeed, I tried to hang myself.” He indicated marks at his throat, which Masachika had thought were scars from the same incident that burned his face. “The branch I chose broke. It was not my time. My lord decided to find some purpose for my life and gave me this mission to accompany you.”

  They rode in silence for a while. The rain had slackened to a drizzle; the mountains were swathed in mist. Biting insects buzzed around them, making the horses shake their heads and kick at their bellies.

  “There are some guardian spirits at Matsutani,” Masachika said. “Last time I was there they prevented me, or anyone else, from entering. I am hoping to be able to placate them this time.”

  “Maybe I can be of help,” Eisei said. “I know many spells and prayers of exorcism. Who placed them there?”

  “An old man, Sesshin. I remember him from my childhood. He lived at Kuromori for many years. We were not aware that he was a powerful sorcerer. After he left, no one knew the spirits were there and so they were neglected and have turned spiteful.”

  “That can easily happen,” Eisei said. “Guardian spirits can be quite petty and they take a lot of looking after. Sesshin … that must be the same old man who now plays the lute in the courtyards of Ryusonji. The monk Gessho captured him and brought him to my lord, along with Shikanoko. He had been blinded and apparently all his powers were gone. He turned out to be a fine musician, though. He and my lord had some past history between them—my lord had been looking for him for a long time. He was not pleased when Sesshin escaped him. He held his physical body, but his sorcerer’s spirit had fled with all its powers. And then Shikanoko slipped out of his control, and Gessho was sent after him again, but never returned. It is the first time anyone has challenged the Prince Abbot in this way. That is why Shikanoko must be destroyed.”

  The rain began to fall more heavily. They spent a sleepless night in a group of hovels that hardly merited the title of village. There was little food other than a thin soup of mountain herbs. Masachika learned that Matsutani was still haunted and that Shikanoko was not there. Lady Tama lived nearby, alone, in theory, though Hisoku’s name was mentioned once or twice in a way that made Masachika burn with anger. He had vowed to kill the man at the first opportunity and he hoped it would present itself soon.

  The next morning they were met on the road by Hisoku himself, at the head of a band of ten or twelve men. They were all gaunt and ragged. Only two had horses, besides Hisoku, and their weapons were old-fashioned and inadequate. Moreover, they were not ready for battle. Masachika learned afterward that most were Miboshi warriors, probably expecting him and his men to be reinforcements. Had the sun been shining he might have been inclined to negotiate and take the time to find this out, but the rain had put him in a vile temper and the sight of Hisoku enraged him further. He gave the order for an immediate attack.

  The men on foot were cut down with swords; the horsemen tried to escape, but fell in a hail of well-aimed arrows. Hisoku’s devious skills were no use to him in an open fight. He was swiftly unhorsed, and Masachika ordered his men to hang him from an oak tree on the edge of the forest.

  “Make sure the branch does not break,” Eisei said.

  The branch was secure. Hisoku cursed Masachika, then pleaded, to no avail. They left his body still kicking and struggling and rode on to Matsutani.

  14

  TAMA

  The long, cold winter and the wet spring had given Lady Tama plenty of time to reflect on her situation,
and she had realized her life was hopeless. As soon as the rain stopped, she decided, she would return to Muenji, shave her head and become a nun, and spend the rest of her life atoning for the sins she had committed and the hardness of her heart.

  Matsutani had been granted to her in a tribunal of law, but she could not take possession of it because it was occupied by hostile spirits. She saw all too clearly the universal law of cause and effect. If she had not taken out Sesshin’s eyes and driven him away, the spirits would have remained hidden, protecting the house and the estate as they had done for years without anyone knowing of their existence, save the man who had set them there, the very same Sesshin.

  If even the powerful monk Gessho had not been able to control them, she did not think anyone could. Matsutani would have to be abandoned. Already the house was beginning to disintegrate. Most of her treasured possessions lay strewn around the garden, slowly rotting away and probably being possessed themselves by unwelcome elemental spirits. Holes had appeared in the roof, shutters hung lopsided and rattled in the wind, wild animals had made dens under the verandas and birds nested in the eaves. A huge white owl had taken to roosting on the ridge of the roof. It hooted in an unpleasant way throughout the night.

  Haru’s house, where Tama now lived, was cramped and uncomfortable. Tama felt that Haru despised her secretly, though the woman spoke to her respectfully and deferred to her. The abduction and death of Tsumaru lay between them; just as, while he lived, they had competed for his affection, so, now he was dead, each blamed the other and felt her grief was greater.

  They did not speak of Hina. It was another of Tama’s regrets, that she had not made more effort with the child, made pale and mute by grief, when Hina had become her stepdaughter. But she had had her own troubles, her brother’s death, the loss of her first husband, the new marriage, the pregnancy. Somehow she had overlooked Hina, and when she had finally given her some attention, it was too late. Hina had withdrawn any affection forever.

  Tama knew Haru’s children disliked her, especially the older one, Chikamaru, whom everyone called Chika. He was an insolent and taciturn boy who came and went without telling anyone what he was up to. She suspected he was going at night to Kuromori, where Shikanoko had been all winter, along with Chika’s father, Kongyo, and the rest of Kiyoyori’s men. He never told her what was happening there, but sometimes his eyes gleamed when he looked at her and his lips curved in a scornful smile.