“Don’t expect me to speak for you to the Emperor,” said Lord Ujimitsu. He put his hand on his sword hilt as if to remind Ashikaga that a moment ago the sword had sought my lordling’s heart.
Ashikaga shifted, pale as the moon How long could Ashikaga stand there staving off collapse? “I’m not asking you to be my blood brother,” said Ashikaga. Somehow, my lordling dug deep inside, finding the reserve to show Lord Ujimitsu that earnest, fresh-eyed manner that made the Ashikaga guards jostle for close positions and handmaidens like Kazue sigh. “You would just pass the responsibility of the Emperor’s Flower Viewing party over to me. My father couldn’t ask for your head on a platter ensnared in such a web of obligation.”
“The Lord Daimyo already has Chokei’s friendship,” said Norinaga. Stating the obvious and leaving the real question unasked. Why would Ashikaga care enough about a flower-viewing party for silly court nobles that in return tonight’s murder attempt would go unrevenged? My lordling had some stake in this I couldn’t quite see. It must have worried Norinaga as well, despite his sly smile. “The Emperor would never hear of this night?”
A measure of self-congratulatory glee shone through Ashikaga’s carefully schooled openness. “My men can be trusted to say nothing of drawn swords, or that your presence here was anything but respect for your dead cousin. Potato dumplings aren’t the only thing we Northerners have experience mastering.” Ashikaga put a hand on my shoulder, drawing me back into the other men’s notice, but also letting weight settle into the hand. I was a crutch again. And a barbed reminder about whose connection to the kami had won out this evening.
Norinaga stiffened. Lord Ujimitsu blundered ahead, all Boar obliviousness. “Lord Hosokawa and your handmaiden would get the chop if the Emperor—or the Lord Daimyo—heard the truth about this night.”
“Agreed,” said Ashikaga, easily, turning Lord Ujimitsu’s threat into petulance “Now, let’s go tell everyone what a terrible misunderstanding this was. Then we can settle a date for the flower-viewing party.”
I started after Lord Ujimitsu, but my lordling stopped me with a look. “The general,” my lordling hissed.
A clamor of gruff, male voices rose at the appearance of Lord Ujimitsu in the hall. He had a major task in calming the guards.
“Do you even know what Lord Yoshinori is planning, I wonder,” said Norinaga. He searched my face and then gave Ashikaga a smirk. Did he know that Ashikaga had tried to send me away? How much did he know about Zeami? “No,” he decided, the polite veneer slipping away to reveal the feral look I thought was his true expression. It suited the yamabushi clothing. “You are as perplexed as I about our lordling’s sudden interest in hanami parties.” He raised his arm. I jerked back.
“Enemies,” I said, firmly, willing Ashikaga to stay out of this. Norinaga let the arm drop. “No more false pleasantries.”
“As you wish,” he said with a mocking bow. “Don’t be too content with today’s victory. And hope that there is no next time, little Flower,” he said, inflection on the last word heavy and mocking, a deliberate reference to my sister. “Or pray at least that if I do lay eyes on you again it will be swift, if unfortunately painful.”
Ashikaga started forward, blood still high, but a flare of heat swirled like a dust-devil around the yamabushi. Shrinking in, and then expanding in a rush to the wolf-sized fox. He loped out of the haze and into the corridor. The startled grunts of men heralded his departure from the building.
Ashikaga beckoned me closer with an impatient wrist flip.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I—” Ashikaga curled an arm around my waist and another around my neck. Fevered skin muffled any further words. Ah. My limbs settled, the stomach flutters seeping out of me. The world narrowed down to just the feel of skin, the smell of sweat and incense, and a togetherness almost as compelling as the indwelling of a kami.
So tempting to just give in. I was tired, hungry, and unsure if I’d made things worse between the Ashikagas. Leaning on my lordling was a brief space of peace. But I was too much the older sister. The part of me that took over after mother left us—that made millet cakes and roasted sweet potatoes for Little Brother, and sent me careening back to Kyoto in the wagon of an itinerant acting troupe—wouldn’t let me relax fully. There was much that my lordling needed to know. This was only a surface peace, a false safety.
I dropped down out of Ashikaga’s arms, putting space between us. “The Daimyo escaped,” I said. I swallowed past a lump in my throat, my eyes level with Ashikaga’s hands, curled loosely—a good sign. “You’re not going to scold me for coming back?”
Ashikaga cupped my face. Nowhere to look but straight into drowning, dark eyes. “Your tendency to complicate my best laid plans is vexing.” The corners of my lordling’s mouth softened, smoothed over to the amused half-grin that meant teasing instead of anger. “I can be angry at the same time as heart-deep grateful that you disobeyed me. It wasn’t just my life in the balance tonight.” The hand on my left cheek fell away, while the right hand’s caress became a sharp pinch.
“Ow!”
“Did you even set foot on the Oshu-Kaido at all? How long did you pretend to follow my orders before ferreting out this latest plot?”
How much to tell Ashikaga about Zeami’s involvement? My lordling had enough to worry about without rubbing salt on that particular wound. On the other hand, didn’t Ashikaga need the whole truth? Kyoto was treacherous. My lordling needed to know all the players in this game. Hell Mountain taught me keeping secrets would cause more trouble. My heart yearned for complete openness. Trusting Ashikaga with the truth was a decision I thought I’d made already. The Capital was so complicated, it forced me to keep weighing that decision over and over with every new wrinkle. My bones were soaked in weariness.
“All that matters is the Daimyo is safe. You are safe.”
“Safe for now. It’s a mark of our precarious position that Lord Ujimitsu would dare attack us here in Kyoto.”
I put the back of my hand to the spot of bright, flushed red on Ashikaga’s cheek. My lordling shook the touch away. “The court needs a reminder of the Ashikaga’s power.”
“The flower-viewing party will somehow reassure the court?” I said. Ashikaga stiffened into the impossibly straight posture of a dancer or Noh performer. For the first time I saw how Zeami and Ashikaga had that same, over-correct, too-perfect configuration of limbs. As if living the way they did meant every muscle and tendon had to be beaten into faultless harmony.
Ashikaga drew further away. I’d cracked open the tender moment with my words. The noble was back. “Yoshikazu is gone. The Daimyo needs an heir. I can’t be the heir of the Daimyo of the Northern Han if I hide away in my father’s residence. The court is uneasy, my father is uneasy because I am unknown and untested. No surprise that the court would turn a blind eye to Yoshikazu’s drunken stupors while finding every fault with me. The flower-viewing party is a chance to show that I can toe the line at least as well as that clod, Ujimitsu.”
And then Lord Motofuji wouldn’t feel the need to send his son like an assassin to take my lordling’s life even as he grieved for Yoshikazu? The Daimyo was my lordling’s sun and moon, no matter my lordling’s real parentage. Nothing else was visible when Ashikaga set the Daimyo to shining in the sky. Not even blatant ambition and greed.
“You want to become heir?” I couldn’t quite keep the disbelief from my tone.
Ashikaga turned on me, eyes flinty, and every inflection court-perfect. “And who else could be my father’s heir?”
Chapter Nineteen
* * *
I’D NEVER WISHED so hard for the sight of that half-moon helmet Uesugi-san wore on his head. I couldn’t think of anyone else who Ashikaga might listen to. Certainly not me or Zeami.
Who else could be my father’s heir?
I needed the simplicity of home.
I needed Ashikaga.
All the way back to the Ashikaga residence I wrestled with these two thoughts. Ashikaga rode ahead. I followed on foot with the rest of the guards. The straw sandals the crone had lent me an eternity ago chafed my feet in a familiar, homey way. The dirt-packed streets of Muromachi District were coming awake. The rising sun glowed golden behind Higashi-yama’s summit, and shopkeepers were tying back the straw-mat window coverings and unfurling noren over their shops’ doorways. The salty-sweet smell of a dango-maker basting rice balls over a brazier filled the air. My mouth watered. I was hungry, thirsty, and bone-tired. Did Ashikaga forget what I had endured to return this night? Or did my lordling remember perfectly well and leave me to walk anyway, punishing me for my disobedience?
Auntie Jay would say it didn’t matter why or wherefore the porridge burnt, you still had to fetch another measure of millet. I gritted my teeth and concentrated on the hairy neck of the guard in front of me, unwilling to meet anyone’s curious eyes.
When we finally made it back to the residence, Beautiful came flying out the door before I’d even made it through the outer gate.
“Lily!” she said, clasping my hands. “Couldn’t bear being parted from your lordling for even an afternoon, eh?” Her tone was arch, but she seemed genuinely glad to see me. Beautiful pulled me into the kitchen outbuilding where she sweet-talked Jiro into tucking chopped pickled plum into cold rice balls and ladling soup swimming with diced lotus root and radish into a bowl for me.
“Now,” said Beautiful, propping her head on one fist, elbow on the low table as if we were field hands back in Ashikaga Village sharing a meal, “tell me everything.”
I choked midslurp. Tell her everything? What could I say that wouldn’t instantly plunge me or Ashikaga into danger? Should I admit the fox general who had killed Little Turtle’s father was here? Or talk about Ujimitsu’s murder attempt? Or that I sang forbidden Jindo songs in front of a statue of a Bodhisattva and wasn’t struck dead?
I needed something to deflect Beautiful’s curiosity. “Lord Yoshinori will arrange the court’s flower-viewing party tomorrow here at the residence,” I blurted.
The bamboo ladle Jiro was holding dropped to the floor with a splatter of broth. “Tomorrow? Here?” Jiro repeated. Beautiful leapt to her feet and put a hand on the cook’s broad shoulder.
“What an opportunity!”
“But tomorrow. There’s no time. The pantry is empty—”
“You’ve been saying this whole week how the Chamberlain never gives you the budget for the dried abalone or sweet cucumbers you need to make Honzen Ryori like the other residences. This is your chance!”
“My chance?”
Beautiful had Jiro well in hand. I slurped my bowl of soup and listened as my friend turned the cook’s surprise and dismay into excitement. By the time an upper servant arrived with the formal request for Jiro to submit a menu for tomorrow, Beautiful was busy coaxing Jiro into creating a menu fit for an Emperor. Dried abalone, three kinds of stewed root vegetables, paper-thin slices of red snapper, vinegared and pressed into rice, and sliced jelly fish marinated in Pollock roe. Half of the ingredients were so expensive Father would have let no one else touch them back home. Beautiful spun a cocoon of encouragement and ambition, and Jiro seemed happy to become a butterfly for her.
Beautiful had completely forgotten to grill me over the flames of her curiosity about last night. I polished off the soup, helped myself to a clean ladle and another serving, and then slipped out of the kitchen. Beautiful gave me a distracted nod as I left.
Outside, I dodged harried men pulling wrapped bundles from the gaping doors of the stone cellar. Raised voices barked orders from inside the main building. The Residence was in an uproar. Ashikaga must have lit a fire under the Chamberlain. Had my lordling also spoken to the Lord Daimyo yet? The only hitch in Ashikaga’s plan was getting the Daimyo to overlook what had happened. The frail weight of the Daimyo against my side, the groggy expression—he’d been caught in Norinaga’s sleep charm like the others. It was possible he didn’t remember Lord Ujimitsu’s attack.
Handmaidens and servants hurried down the verandah. I made it to my room without comment, but I slid open the door to reveal the Kyoto handmaidens buzzing as madly as Father’s bees when he harvested the honeycomb. Robes, sashes, and ornaments were spread about the room. Including the corner where I usually unrolled my bed, where I had planned to curl up and hide for an hour or so, just to take the edge off my weariness.
Kazue caught sight of me and stopped talking midword. Slowly, the circle of handmaidens chattering away fell silent, turning to stare at me. I hesitated too long, my tired mind refusing to show me an escape route. Kazue threw her arms up in the air. “And what do they expect me to do with her?” The other girls tittered. A beat later they turned their backs to resume frantically unfolding robes and removing protective paper wrappings. One girl tugged at a chest too heavy for one person. With a groan, I went to help. Then another trapped me into matching brocade to under-robes, and so on and so on until my entire body was a bundle of exhaustion. I moved in a fog.
“You’re just about useless,” said Kazue. I looked up at the soft inflection of her voice. Her face had its usual disdain, but there was an unaccustomed gentleness in her manner. “Go ask Jiro for salt-paste to polish these ornaments. At least you’ll be out of the way.”
I ducked out of the room as fast as I could. Catching the arm of the first empty-handed man I saw in the courtyard, I relayed Kazue’s request for salt-paste.
Then I stepped behind the morning-glory covered trellis in front of the path to Lady Ashikaga’s deserted hall, the one place sure to remain undisturbed today. I was desperate. One more moment without sleep and I would collapse.
The sun beat down strong and steady over the Ashikaga compound. Not a trace of the yurei’s pulsing hate or heat. It was afternoon, daylight. The door slid open easily, disturbing only a few roly-poly bugs. Not locked. Had Ashikaga forgotten when we left last time? I couldn’t remember.
Daylight made erratic shafts of yellow through gaps in the mouse-eaten straw coverings on the windows. Sifting dust danced in the light and then disappeared into shadows. It was warm and quiet, and no matter how hard I listened there was nothing but the sound of my own breathing within, and only the hum of human voices without. Even the cherry trees were blessedly silent.
I climbed up on to the raggedy tatami mats of the entryway. The fine layer of grime was disturbed where Ashikaga and I had stepped before. The double fusuma doors of Lady Ashikaga’s room were ajar, and the closet where I’d found the kodansu chest was wide open. The kodansu sat at crosswise angle half out of the upper shelf of the closet.
Ashikaga must have returned to see if we’d missed any other trinkets from Lady Ashikaga. The drowsy warmth of the room tempted me to ignore the small thread of unease unwinding down my spine. Why be uneasy? There was nothing to find here, nothing to betray Ashikaga’s secrets. No echo of my Jindo song. So why did the sight of the kodansu disturb me so? I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms until all I saw was the fuzzy, lint-covered darkness behind my eyelids.
A deep breath, and another, every muscle in my body straining as if I could hear something with flesh and sinew my ears had missed. Opening my eyes, I left the room and stepped back out into the entryway. My back against a post, I crumpled to the floor and breathed in dust and quiet. Just a moment to rest. Just one.
I awoke with a start, a thick layer of sleep crusted across my eyes and coating my tongue with bitterness. Lady Ashikaga’s house was still as a cemetery. With a long stretch, arching my back and reaching both arms to the ceiling, my neck unkinked. From the courtyard outside came not one human sound, only the low murmur of the cherry tree kami. Not angry, but a low, insistent buzz at the base of my skull. I let my arms fall to my sides and stood, brushing dust and wrinkles from the hem of my robe.
How long had I slept? If I were lucky, everyone would have been too busy to notice my absence. The cottony-headed weariness I’d felt for what seemed an eternity was finally gone. In its place was a not-unpleasant overall ache, and the same wariness I’d felt earlier seeing the disturbed kodansu. Something was stirring in the Ashikaga compound, something more than just human.
“Avoiding me? Afraid I’ll send you back to Ashikaga Han again?” I jerked around. Ashikaga leaned casually against the doorway, one eyebrow arched in my direction. My lordling. Of course it was Ashikaga who discovered me. Like a mama-bear with unerring sense of where a cub was hiding, even in dense underbrush. It would have been irritating if it didn’t please me, in my annoyingly desperate way, that we had that connection. Another part of me hated always needing to be found.
“Zeami stopped me the first night,” I said, and then explained about switching clothes, the old crone, and how I’d heard the pine-kami and Norinaga singing when I’d entered the temple compound.
The Straw Doll Cries at Midnight (A Tiger Lily Novel Book 2) Page 24
