Pearl-Ear did not reply but stared skeptically as Toshi faded from view.
She said a silent prayer to the kami of the woods. She feared the outlaw’s word meant only what he said it did and nothing more.
Please, she thought. This time, let that be enough.
Toshi stepped out onto the ridge overlooking the border between the Sokenzan Mountains and Towabara. The stabbing pain in his chest and the fog in his brain grew worse with each jaunt, but he was nearly done. He just needed to make sure Hidetsugu had done as he’d been asked before he could return to the tower.
Despite the stress on his body, Toshi was growing accustomed to the power of the Shadow Gate, choosing his destinations and arriving within ten or twenty yards of his target. It helped if he were moving toward someone he knew or to a place he’d been before. With a little practice, he felt that soon he could go anywhere in Kamigawa.
A cold wind blew up from the valley floor below. Toshi leaned over the edge of the ridge, watching the small figures scurrying below.
A woman in white floated eerily between three of the daimyo’s soldiers. One was lying supine on the rocky ground, his eyes open and vacant to the sky. Another was curled into a tight, shivering ball with his hands clapped hard over his ears. The third was being caressed by the woman, her hand tenderly stroking his cheek.
The wind changed, and the woman’s hair blew back from her face. The third soldier dropped stiffly to the ground, and she floated toward the second, who still lay shuddering and helpless.
Toshi watched the thing that looked like Princess Michiko lay hands on the final soldier. The man stiffened under her touch, and his trembling ceased.
Toshi shook his head. As he’d feared, she was too powerful. He hadn’t been able to control the aspect of shadow that drew on her essence, and it had consumed all of Uramon’s manor. Left unchecked, the yuki-onna herself would likewise engulf the entire border.
Toshi stepped back from the edge of the rock before the figure of Michiko could glance up and spot him. As he melted back into the shadows, he vowed to do something about the snow woman. Eventually, she would evolve from something that endangered his enemies to something that endangered everyone. Eventually he’d have to take steps to prevent that from happening.
Toshi nodded to himself as he soared through the void of shadows. Eventually.
Michiko sat once more at her writing desk. She had folded origami, she had paced, she had done everything she could think of to busy her mind and relieve the stress of waiting. Now she sat and stared, looking out the window as she watched the corner with her peripheral vision.
She wished she had not sent Isamaru back to the kennels. The more she thought on it, the more she realized it would be good to have a loyal dog at her side if she were to travel with Toshi.
Assuming the ochimusha ever came back. He was probably in a dreary little tavern in Numai, spending the money he’d gotten in exchange for her ring.
“Pssst. Princess. Ready to go?”
Michiko remained calm and continued to look out the window. She nodded, however, an almost imperceptible bob of the head.
Toshi appeared like a ghost, stepping from the shadowed corner. The room had grown much darker in the fading sunlight, but she could see his features clearly as he came out of the gloom.
The ochimusha looked haggard, as if he had seen and done too much. His eyes were dim, but he still wore his rakish smile. He extended his arm.
“Take my hand, Princess. I’ve not taken fellow travelers with me often enough to be overconfident.”
She wrapped her fingers around his. His hand was very cold. “I would settle for merely confident. How many times have you done this?”
“None,” he admitted cheerfully. “None times.”
“I wish to go to Minamo academy,” she said. “Can you take me there?”
“No, Princess. It is protected by spells more powerful than mine.”
Michiko’s eyes narrowed. “The spells that protect this tower are the most powerful in all Kamigawa, yet you had no trouble coming here.”
“Nonetheless.” Toshi’s smile grew strained. “I can’t take you there. I have something better in mind.”
Michiko dropped Toshi’s hand. “I am having second thoughts, ochimusha. The last time I went with you, you intended to ransom me.”
“Your hands were bound then,” Toshi said, “and we hadn’t come to an arrangement.” The blue ring appeared in his hands as if conjured directly from his pocket. “This buys my loyalty until the job is done. Why else did you think I insisted on payment? It’s for your peace of mind as much as my purse.”
Michiko stared hard at Toshi. Slowly, she extended her hand and allowed him to grasp it firmly.
“If I may,” he said. Gently, he spread her palm and fingers wide and pressed them into the center of his breastbone. She felt something squirming like a small snake under her touch.
“Good,” he said. “Now, relax, and close your eyes. In a moment, you’ll be among friends.”
Michiko smiled coldly. “So I am not now?”
Toshi cocked his head. “You’re not my friend, you’re my employer. It’s best to keep things—”
“Strictly business,” she finished. She placed her other hand on Toshi’s chest. “Please. I want to get away from here.”
“Close your eyes,” Toshi said again.
Michiko closed her eyes. She felt the strangest sensation, as if her body had melted and left only her mind. She felt a tug on her phantom arms and was plunged into an endless sea of black.
PART TWO
MOON RISE OVER THE FALLS
A white rain descends
Drops of light from darkened skies
Illuminate the void
General Takeno stood outside the door to the daimyo’s private sanctuary deep in the center of the building. Though there were sentries and soldiers aplenty on each level of the tower, no guards were posted outside this final threshold. Takeno and the daimyo’s other top advisors would have preferred to have warriors standing by at all times, but Konda refused.
“Not even the kami would dare attack me here,” he once said, and so far he’d been proven correct.
Takeno’s breathing was labored. He was no longer a young man, and the trip from ground level to the very top of the daimyo’s tower was difficult. His legs had weakened, and his joints had stiffened over the years, but he could still ride and fire a bow better than anyone in Konda’s army. Sometimes he toyed with the idea of riding to the top of the tower to spare his aging knees—certainly the stairs could accommodate his mount.
The general had served Daimyo Konda for almost thirty years. From his humble beginnings as a cavalry officer over a single unit, he had risen to supreme command of the daimyo’s entire mounted army. He had fought at Konda’s behest and at the daimyo’s side, and together they had achieved great things. Takeno would gladly lay down his life for his lord and for Eiganjo, knowing full well that every soldier in his command would do the same.
Along with his fatigue, it was Takeno’s devotion to Konda that caused him to hesitate on the verge of the daimyo’s private rooms. He hated to bring his lord bad news from the frontier, especially when the situation here was so desperate. But the general had always presented Konda with the most accurate and up to date assessment of their campaigns, no matter how sobering. They had suffered reversals before and prevailed. He shook off his weariness and his doubts and put his trust once more in Daimyo Konda.
“My lord,” Takeno spoke as he climbed the short staircase. He did not expect an answer, but he did want to alert Konda to his presence. The daimyo was becoming more distant than ever, and the more time he spent communing with his prize, the less aware he seemed of the world outside.
Takeno reached the doorway at the top of the stairs. He steeled himself, opened the door, and called out again.
“My lord. I bring news from the bandit frontier.”
The old soldier could see Konda through the
open door. He was at the far end of the room, kneeling before a thick pedestal with his back to Takeno. A rough stone disk hovered above the pedestal, throwing off a harsh white glare and steaming as if it had just been drawn from a boiling pot. Konda spent hours each day bathing in that glare, breathing in that steam. When he laid hands on the disk, the glow spread to him and surrounded his body, as if the disk and the ruler were awash with the same energy.
Takeno knew the disk’s face bore the carved outline of a fetal dragon, but he did not look at it. Doing so always made him shudder, which never failed to annoy Konda. Takeno had been present on the night the daimyo created the thing with a ritual that required the assistance of a mysterious soratami mage and Minamo’s highest-ranking wizard. Takeno would do anything for his master, but he prayed that Konda would never ask him to revisit that terrible night.
The general still believed Konda when the daimyo declared the act would lead to the ultimate salvation of all Kamigawa. Takeno also prayed nightly for that salvation to come, and quickly, before there was nothing left of the daimyo’s kingdom to save.
“Daimyo Konda,” he said loudly. Though he was old and out of breath, his voice still carried enough force to command the attention of a thousand men assembled for battle.
Konda lifted his head. He did not turn to face the general but said, “Ahh, Takeno. I have only to think about you, and here you are. Yosei is an awesome sight, is he not?”
“He is, my lord. The people sing the Morning Star’s praises daily, and yours. There have been almost no deaths from kami attacks since you summoned him.”
“Excellent. The wizards of Minamo have already followed my advice and raised their own dragon: Keiga the Tide Star, who stands as Yosei’s brother in the company of spirit dragons. It is part of my new campaign against the other kami—the myojin may be exalted, but they are no more formidable than the guardian dragons of Kamigawa itself.”
Takeno nodded slowly. “An excellent stratagem, my lord.”
“I must find a way to raise the others,” Konda said, “the guardians of Jukai and Sokenzan. Perhaps even the dark spirit dragon of Takenuma could be compelled to join our cause.”
The daimyo rose, trailing his hand along the stone disk as he stood, then turned to face Takeno. The General bowed, using his obeisance as a pretext to avoid looking into Konda’s eyes.
Takeno did not understand the link between Konda and the stone disk, nor did he care to, but it was clear that the ritual that created the prize had also bestowed semi-divine powers upon the ruler. Ever since the night Michiko was born and the prize was taken from the kakuriyo, Konda’s eyes had been stricken with that eerie drift, vacillating from side to side within his sockets. He had also shown flashes of incredible strength and demonstrated knowledge of events on the far side of the world.
In his most private thoughts, Takeno resented the stone disk. To him and the rest of the army, Konda had been godlike without the benefit of magic and divine vision. The force of the daimyo’s personality and the skill of his retainers was more than enough to unite a nation—commandeering the spirits to cement that union was unnecessary at best and vulgar at worst.
Now Konda approached him, still glittering with the stone disk’s power. His eyes bounced slowly back and forth as he strode up to Takeno.
“Why have you come, General? Did I summon you?”
Takeno bowed again. “No, my lord. I have come to report disturbing dispatches from the border guards along the Sokenzan range.”
“Ah. Do so.”
“My lord, the commander of the unit stationed there reports that Godo has employed a powerful new spell that appears to either increase the cold or negate our army’s efforts to keep warm. We have lost nearly one-tenth of our forces to the weather, which is far worse than normal for that region. The bandits are visible, but they are not taking any aggressive action. They are merely watching and waiting while our troops freeze to death.”
Konda gestured impatiently. “Send them more cold-weather gear,” he said.
“There are … more disturbing aspects to the dispatch, my lord. Most of the fallen soldiers inexplicably abandoned their posts before they froze. Sentries go missing, only to turn up dead far from where they were assigned. Patrols equipped for freezing weather die fully dressed, their bodies scattered a short distance from one another.”
Konda leveled his strange eyes at Takeno. “This sounds like a discipline problem. Have they forgotten the basics of winter warfare? Tell them to burn more campfires and stay closer to them.”
“My lord,” Takeno said. “There are also unconfirmed reports … rumors … that your daughter has been seen along the border. The sight of her is enough to send the bravest and most disciplined soldier into harm’s way. Meanwhile, the casualties continue to mount, no matter what steps are taken, and morale is declining rapidly.”
Konda growled, his voice harsh and urgent. “My daughter,” he said, “is in the tower, not three floors below where we stand. Am I such a joke among my own troops that they believe I would lose track of my daughter twice in the same year?”
“Certainly not, my lord. The commander fears that Godo is using a look-alike to lure your loyal retainers into ambush, stunning them, and leaving them to freeze in the cold.”
“My daughter wandered off once. She would not dishonor me so a second time. And I will not be goaded by the likes of that sanzoku dog.”
“My lord,” Takeno said. He swallowed hard. “This morning the sentries posted outside your daughter’s room reported that it is empty. They did not see her leave. While they searched for hours, it seems Princess Michiko is no longer in the tower.”
Konda’s face grew tight, though his eyes continued to drift. “How is this possible?”
“I cannot say, my lord. She must have had outside help.”
“This look-alike on the Sokenzan border,” he said. “Could this be Michiko herself?”
“No, my lord. The timing is wrong—the look-alike appeared while the princess was still inside the tower.”
“This is outrageous. This is unacceptable.”
Takeno bowed.
“Find my daughter,” the daimyo growled. “Find her and bring her before me. Send riders into Numai, the Araba, and into the depths of hell itself. This will not stand!”
“It shall be done, my lord.”
Konda composed himself. “The bandit chief seeks to provoke me. Well, he has done so. Let him now suffer the consequences.”
“My lord, if I may—”
“Concentrate all available companies on the Sokenzan border. Spread them along its length.”
“Please, my lord—”
Konda was lost in his own mind. “Godo obviously wants us to focus on that one area, but we will not be fooled. Most likely he plans to penetrate the border somewhere else and sneak a large force of his sanzoku into our territory.” The daimyo looked up. “Make sure the new companies are mobile and ready to respond quickly. They should patrol the entire border regularly, converging on any group of bandits numbering more than a dozen.”
“As you wish, my lord, but we do not have enough reserves to cover the entire border.”
Konda, who had started to turn back to his prize, stopped. He narrowed one strange eye at Takeno.
“Explain.”
“The kami attacks on Eiganjo led us to pull most of our army off regular duty and station them here. There are enough border troops to monitor the bandits but not to engage them. If we spread them any thinner, they will be vulnerable. If Godo is able to exploit this, we could lose the entire force.”
Konda raised a clenched fist. “I will send Yosei to the mountains, where he can destroy Godo and his bandit rabble once and for all.”
Takeno lowered his head. “As you wish, my lord. Who, then, will protect Eiganjo from the kami?”
“We will, old friend. We will. You have seen how quickly the dragon moves, how fiercely he fights. Surely the armies of Eiganjo can protect one city for a few d
ays. That is all the time the Morning Star will need.”
Takeno kept his head bowed. “As you wish, Daimyo Konda.”
He heard the daimyo straighten up. “You are not convinced?”
“I am cautious, my lord. We are far from full strength and have been so for months. A new campaign, among all the other crises the army is facing, would put a huge stress on a system that is already taxed to the breaking point.”
Konda placed a hand on Takeno’s shoulder. “You do not comprehend the dragon’s power, General. That is why you hesitate. Come. I will show you the full scope of Yosei in combat.”
The daimyo spun Takeno around and draped his arm across the general’s shoulders. He steered Takeno over to the door, tilting his head for one last glance at the prize on its pedestal. Marching the general down the short staircase, Konda extolled the dragon’s virtues and waving excitedly as they went. As they passed the daimyo’s personal guard, all twelve retainers fell in step, keeping a respectful distance behind.
“Yosei is blinding,” Konda said. “His speed, his power, the righteous glow that surrounds him. He could travel to the mountains and back in a single day. I doubt it will take him longer than that to destroy Godo’s horde down to the last bandit. With your finest horsemen outside the gates, my moths in the air, and our best-trained troops inside to protect the populace, our losses will be minimal. Those of our enemy will be total. You will see, Takeno. In this new era I am ushering in, wars will be decided not by force of arms but by the will of a single ruler. I have planted the seeds for a kingdom based on spiritual power as well as martial strength. Yosei is but the first bloom I have harvested.”
As they shuffled from the center of the tower to its outer edge, sentries, soldiers, and servants all stepped aside. The civilians bowed and sang Konda’s praises, the retainers stood rigid and saluted.
Takeno’s head swam, both from shortness of breath and from Konda’s overwhelming presence. It was like standing near an open furnace whose heat and vapors sapped the strength from mind and body alike.
Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa: Kamigawa Cycle, Book II Page 13
