My lordling gripped Norinaga’s wrist.
For an instant I went as dumb and useless as Ujimitsu. How had my lordling escaped the sleep-spell? But before my eyes, Ashikaga’s shoulders drooped, Norinaga’s needle pressed closer to my lordling’s right eye. As if Ashikaga’s strength ebbed.
“Sing, Lily!”
You were scraped hollow by the yurei, came Norinaga’s voice in my mind. He wrenched left, but Ashikaga had flipped up one sleeve and tangled the tip of the needle, dragging it out of Norinaga’s grasp.
My lordling faltered, weaving like a drunkard, lids at half-mast, still touched with Norinaga’s sleep.
“Lily—”
I sang. The cherry tree kami’s power came flowing in, salt rubbed into the still-open wounds the yurei had left inside me.
This will end you. I will end you.
I had no title, no lands or goods to give my lordling. Not Zeami’s grace. No true answer to that wanting that filled Ashikaga. But this, bearing pain, this my peasant body knew well. This, I could give my lordling.
Like a statue,
I will wait for you
Till the long tale of my unbound hair
grows unbearable with frost and longing.
As the first verse left my lips, Ashikaga straightened. The cherry tree kami’s power in my song diluted Norinaga’s power. The Emperor backed away from Norinaga and Ashikaga. The Daimyo jumped to his feet. Ashikaga lunged at Norinaga, but he crouched down, catching Ashikaga’s midsection with his shoulder and throwing my lordling to the ground. Something pinged to my left—the needle flung aside. The Daimyo started forward, but Norinaga’s shape flickered, curled in on itself like a wood chip singed by fire, and shrank down to the lithe, red-furred shape of a fox.
I stopped singing, propping myself up on my forearms, only to find myself staring into a feral sea of yellow—the eyes of the first creature I’d ever known who knew the ecstatic rightness of a kami’s indwelling. A terrible, icy pain crystallized in my belly—absolute certainty Norinaga would end the Ashikagas this time. He had nothing left to lose.
The fox general cursed—his voice raw with anger and grief in the rough whines of his fox throat. My fingers felt for the smooth metal of Norinaga’s dropped needle.
No!
I plunged the needle into the center of one fox eye with a cry. Ashikaga flopped onto the fox’s back, grabbing the muzzle in one hand and the right ear in the other and twisted.
Then there was only the sickly-sweet smell of crushed blossoms and the harsh sound of Ashikaga’s breathing.
Chapter Twenty-six
* * *
“DRINK,” SAID BEAUTIFUL for the thirteenth time. This time, she curled her hand over mine, pressing it sharply against the thin ceramic of the steaming hot cup of tea she’d given me a few minutes ago. Or had it been half an hour? I eyed the steam. Minutes, then.
“Ow,” I said, jerking my hand away. I pushed at her shoulder, but her wispy frame was strangely solid.
“Drink or your unbound hair will grow white with age before I release you.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had referenced my Jindo song. The other handmaidens’ whispering was peppered with little snippets from the song. Did Beautiful mean to add to the doom hanging over my head? I’d sung Jindo in front of the Daimyo. In front of the Emperor.
Ashikaga had sent a note through Beautiful just a few hours ago. I’d been too scared to open it. At any moment I expected a sharp knock, and house guards to come crashing through the sliding panels. By rights I should have spent the night in a jail. I’d stopped Norinaga, but what damage had I done by parading forbidden Jindo music in front of the Daimyo? The Emperor himself? Ashikaga needed to keep far away from me. I was an evil spirit, as poisonous as the yurei.
Beautiful gave a long-suffering sigh, like Auntie Jay surveying the tea house after a long night’s drinking by field hands with manners worse than geese. “Fine!” She picked up the cup and pressed it swiftly to my lips, tilting it so that hot liquid trickled down my chin and under the loosened collar of my robe. The handmaidens’ whispering halted.
I glared. Beautiful gave a little laugh. “At least you’re making eye contact now. We have to get you cleaned up before they summon you.”
“It won’t matter in prison if my hair is unbound.”
Beautiful beat my shoulder blades with the flat of her hand, splashing more hot tea down my front. “You’re not there yet. Have you no faith in your lordling?”
I pushed her away to scuttle back against the wall, folding my arms around bended knees and curling myself into a ball. “Best stay away from me.” The tea cup overturned onto the tatami, unheeded, draining away its warm, liquid heart.
A sharp knock sounded at the door panel. Beautiful flinched, then fell into a purposeful stillness. One of the Kyoto handmaidens knelt in front of the door with all the haughty grandeur of a court-lady and slid the panel back. Half a dozen house guards stood at attention in the dimly-lit hall.
My face flushed red, and underneath my robe I felt itchy prickles up and down my body. The weight of the stares of the guards and the other handmaidens, and even Beautiful’s, pressed on my flesh like the bristles of a floor brush. I stood up.
Beautiful came to my side and cupped an elbow. The house guard in front cleared his throat. He was one of the Daimyo’s personal guard—never trained with Ashikaga or the other house guards. I couldn’t read his carefully blank expression. “She’s to come alone.”
“You will survive this,” whispered Beautiful in my ear. She squeezed my elbow, and then let go. The house guard jerked his chin, ordering me into the hallway. This was it. I stepped into the corridor, away from the comfort of Beautiful’s warmth, my last walk as a free woman. The nightingale voices cried out under our feet all the way down the corridor—the only sound except for the hesitant flutter of my own breathing. The house was silent. Everyone waiting.
We turned the corner, heading past Ashikaga’s rooms, and back into the deepest part of the Residence. This was the first daylight time I’d ever passed through the intricately painted panels of pink paulownia blossoms and silver cranes against golden clouds that marked the Daimyo’s rooms. The house guard knocked on the door. It slid open with alacrity. The other guards parted around me. Nowhere to hide.
“Don’t just stand there,” said a familiar voice. “Get yourself in here.”
Uesugi? Here? But . . . he was supposed to be back in Ashikaga. . . .
“Don’t be frightened,” said another voice, feminine. On the platform at the back of the room sat the Daimyo, in a simple linen robe, with hair bound in a long tail. To the left sat my lordling, hands clasped on folded knees, expression closed and guarded. To the right, Lady Hisako!
I started forward, the urge to throw myself at her feet so strong I actually made it to the platform edge before I caught myself and knelt, head bowed low. “A long time has passed, Lily-of-the-Valley,” said Lady Hisako.
“Not long enough,” grumbled Uesugi.
Lady Hisako shot him a quelling look. “Imagine my surprise arriving in the Capitol expecting a bridegroom and wedding preparations only to find the household in an uproar.” She shook her head and tsk-tsked for all the world like a priest correcting Little Brother’s calligraphy. A slender hand crept across my shoulders, subtly pulling me into a sitting position. Little Turtle! She was here as well. I stared at her in confusion. She was smiling. Smiling.
“I believe,” said Lady Hisako “that Lily is afraid.”
Ashikaga looked up at this. Wounded. The falcon arrogance pierced by the arrow of Lady Hisako’s words, bleeding darkness from eyes that held only sorrow and pain. But Little Turtle was here, and she was smiling. And Lady Hisako, who had been my friend even bef
ore I knew her brother’s secret.
The ladies hadn’t assembled here to drag me off to prison?
My next exhale ended in a strange little hiccough. Little Turtle squeezed my arm and fell into a court-proper handmaiden-in-waiting position with legs folded underneath. I copied her.
“Leave us,” commanded the Daimyo. The house guards filed out, leaving only the Ashikagas on their platform, Little Turtle, Uesugi, and me.
After the panel slid closed, the Daimyo gave an unhappy cough. “If we gave her to the Emperor none of this would be necessary.”
“She saved your life. Saved the Emperor’s life,” said Ashikaga quietly. “I will only agree to stay in Kyoto if she stays here with me.”
Stay?
“She can’t stay here,” said the Daimyo. “Not even handing the Emperor the fox general’s head can win forgiveness for this blunder. Be content with the favor you have already received—her life.”
“I can ask a boon,” I blurted out. If I didn’t raise my head, if I didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, I could do this. This was the only way out of this tangled mess. Ashikaga would have to forgive.
Uesugi guffawed. “Your boon is your life.”
“Release Lord Yoshinori, honored lord.”
“You are mistaken about who needs to be released,” said Uesugi.
“Captain,” said Lady Hisako, a soft rebuke. “No one is in danger of being bound over. Correct, Father?”
The Daimyo coughed again.
At least he wasn’t ordering me dragged from the room. I thought of all that Zeami had told me of court politics. “The boon I ask is . . . make Lord Ujimitsu your heir so Lord Yoshinori can go home.”
Uesugi’s jaw shut with an audible click. A storm raged on the Daimyo’s face. I tensed as if lightning truly would strike.
“Lily,” said my lordling, still bleeding sorrow. “I am Ashikaga main branch. My duty is to my father. Here.”
I pressed my lips together in a line, tilting my head in entreaty at Lady Hisako. I couldn’t say what was needed: to bring the ghosts out of the past, out of that abandoned hall in the back of the yard and parade the ghost in front of the Daimyo.
But it wasn’t Hisako who answered.
“Ujimitsu is older than Lord Yoshinori,” said Uesugi.
“Brother, choose your words carefully,” said Ashikaga, a warning in the too-calm tone.
“Ashikagas would still rule the Northern Lands,” said Uesugi. My lordling half rose from the formal, seated posture. The darkness took on a hard, thin edge. Uesugi had joined me on the edge of this cliff. A faint blush of hope warmed my cheeks.
“Yoshinori belongs to me,” said the Daimyo.
“I lost my older brother and mother to Kyoto,” said Lady Hisako, quietly. “I will become Hojo after the wedding. Will you give this city the rest of my heart?”
“Yoshinori is my child!”
Lady Hisako moved closer to the Daimyo, bowing so that the tail of her long queue brushed his knee. “No one is challenging your loyalty to our house or your leadership of the Ashikaga clan.”
Slowly, as if Ashikaga’s body wouldn’t quite obey commands, my lordling turned to the Daimyo. “Lord Ujimitsu has no desire to live up North. He is city-bred. He would leave the Ashikaga domain to me as long as I send the rice harvest to Kyoto.”
My jaw dropped open. Maybe pride didn’t have a monopoly on my lordling’s thoughts. Maybe Ashikaga could see reason. The Daimyo sucked in breath through closed teeth. “You already discussed this with him.”
Ashikaga nodded. I almost missed the quick eye-flick in my direction.
Despite his rigid posture, the corners of the Daimyo’s mouth sagged, his face sallow and pale. I’d never seen him look so . . . tired. Lady Hisako’s closeness transformed from supplicant to support. The Lord Daimyo never betrayed weakness, despite the illness that my lordling and Zeami had spoken of. I saw an old man, now, the ghosts of dead wife and son like smoke in his lungs. Zeami’s silver tongue was all that stood between the Emperor and Ashikaga ruin.
“If Zeami could—” I began, but cut off abruptly when Ashikaga tightened a fist on one knee.
“I will not choose that Boar over my own child.”
“I am not—”
“You are mine!”
A thousand, hair-fine cracks snaked their way through my heart. That high-flying passion, that unerring sense of what was at the heart of the matter—mirrored in the eyes of father and child on the platform before me.
“—your son,” Ashikaga finished, the words stinging in the heavy atmosphere of unspoken love and pain. “Kyoto is a prison. See what it did to Yoshikazu and Lady Ashikaga? How many years did even you avoid this place?”
Even though the Daimyo’s heart was here. I pictured Zeami as I’d seen him at the Kanze-za Theater. All made up as an old woman. They had spent so many years apart, and now the Daimyo’s health was failing. Did they still have time to grow old together?
“The court will see it as a punishment,” said the Daimyo.
“The punishment would be staying here,” muttered Uesugi.
“What do we care for gossip?” said Ashikaga, ignoring him. “Let the Boar muddle his way through the court’s snide opinions. He grew up with these politics. The Emperor grows old and his grip weakens. The fox general and Lord Motofuji aren’t the only ones plotting.”
“There is safety in the North,” said Lady Hisako.
The Daimyo made a chopping gesture in the air with the edge of his hand. Lady Hisako and Ashikaga exchanged a worried look.
Seconds ticked by with the painful thumps of my heart. Pride might be the only thing keeping the Daimyo upright. Could he see how this path might satisfy both honor and love? If he did, would Ashikaga forgive my meddling?
“I will grant this boon,” said the Daimyo at last. Little Turtle dug her fingers into the soft flesh of my inner elbow. I’d forgotten she was beside me. Her fate was wrapped up in this, too.
“Tiger Lily lives a charmed life,” Uesugi muttered. How did he always get away with these comments? My lordling’s shoulders had relaxed with the Daimyo’s pronouncement, and at Uesugi’s words I saw them shake a bit in silent laughter.
He agreed. The Daimyo had agreed! My mind knew joy, but my body was tight with fear.
The Daimyo waved a hand at the group of us servants—a dismissal. Uesugi made a gruff “hai” and rose to slide the chamber door-panel open.
Zeami stood outside, still in layered court robes. He took in Ashikaga and Lady Hisako’s obvious relief, my trembling, submissive posture, and the tired, old man in the front of the room.
“Enter,” said the Daimyo in a gruff voice. Zeami instantly went to the foot of the platform, relaying orders for hot tea and cushions to Lady Hisako. Little Turtle and Lady Hisako left, their robe sleeves flapping to cover a hushed exchange. I scooted backwards, thinking to follow them out.
Ashikaga shot me the hunting look of an eagle. My lordling wanted me here. No matter how seemingly inappropriate now that Zeami had turned the gathering decidedly intimate and informal. My only hope for forgiveness probably lay in doing exactly what Ashikaga wanted for the next few moments. I settled back on my heels.
“All this fuss,” said the Daimyo. “Everything’s already been decided. Your persuasion is no longer needed.”
Zeami shook his head. “I would not add my voice to the chorus of Lord Ujimitsu’s supporters.”
“What?” said Ashikaga.
Zeami angled bent knees towards my lordling. “Did you think it through? Whatever reasons you and Lily-of-the-Valley cooked up for you to return to the Ashikaga domain, the result is separation from your father.”
The light drained from my lo
rdling’s expression. The cracks in my heart widened further. I hadn’t considered all the consequences of my request for the Daimyo.
“We will return all together,” said Ashikaga.
“I am staying here,” said the Daimyo. He lifted a hand to quell Ashikaga’s sputtered protest. “I have neglected my duties too long.” Zeami sat very still. No one said a thing. No one looked at the actor. All of us understood what the Daimyo meant by “duties.” If Ashikaga’s father felt for Zeami even a part of what I felt for my lordling, I could understand Daimyo’s desire to stay near the actor, now that the yurei was put to rest, now that his own health was failing.
“I will visit yearly,” said Ashikaga.
“I will be relying on my son to oversee affairs up north.”
“At least until the Emperor’s anger cools off,” said Uesugi.
Lady Hisako knocked at the door-panel, and came in with Little Turtle bearing lacquered trays and zabuton cushions. She sat back on her heels and clapped her hands together as I rose and helped Little Turtle settle tea and cushions around the Daimyo.
“It’s all settled, then? I can take older brother back with me to Ashikaga Domain after the wedding?”
Ashikaga nodded with a decided lack of enthusiasm. Lady Hisako’s delighted expression unraveled a bit at the edges. Little Turtle tugged at my sleeve. “Time for us to go,” she said. I resisted. Zeami’s sudden about face rattled me. If only my lordling would give me some sign. This was the right thing, I was sure of it, even if it meant separation between parent and child. Ashikaga would be happier back home. I needed to know that the yurei, and the fox general, and his father’s health hadn’t brought on a permanent darkness.
My lordling’s head stayed bowed.
The Straw Doll Cries at Midnight (A Tiger Lily Novel Book 2) Page 31
