by Ree Soesbee
Placing the biwa on the floor, the second maiden pulled her kimono tight about her knees and knelt. With a masterful hand, she tuned the golden strings of the instrument.
The court gathered to watch. Firelight glistened from lanterns above them, which cast pools of bright color across the mahogany floor.
Motionless, Ameiko gazed adoringly at Hoturi.
The music began in the same instant that Ameiko reached for her fan. In a graceful, lingering motion, she removed it from her sleeve. The first, resonant notes matched her fan's slow unfolding.
Blue and silver, her kimono moved with each gentle step.
Her arms reached out and then drew back in a dance of love and joy. The biwa's rich tones seemed to flow from every inch of the hall, and Ameiko's face radiated emotions that were rarely seen in court. Each movement was precise, yet filled with passion. Her white hands flashed behind her fan, first hidden and then revealed in an intricate dance of shadow and illusion. Ameiko's slippered feet masked sound beneath the subtle shifting of silk. Her body was as drawn as a bow and as fleet as a deer.
She is a captured spirit, Hoturi thought as he watched his wife dance before the court, something wild and untamed (hat should not be held against its will.
She looked up at him behind a teasing fan, and her eyes sparkled with love. It was not a dance of courts and courtiers but a simple peasant's story of the fall of a bird, giving its life to defend those it loved. The music told the story of a hunter in the forest, chasing a wild boar. His hawk—the dancer— flew in the sky above and watched as the hunter's spear broke, as the boar began to stalk the man.
Bending the fan down, the dancer lifted her arm to mimic the flight of the hawk into the winter sky. The image was so real that several of the guests sighed in appreciation. Their eyes rose from Ameiko's motion to the heights of the ceiling, as if to see the bird vanish into the clouds.
With another movement, the creature fell to the ground, stung by the hunter's call. Ameiko dropped to her knees. Unable to resist her love for her master, the hawk returned and began to drive away the maddened boar, using her wings and beak to stab at the creature's eyes. Her fan dropped lightly to the ground, landing open and perfect at her feet as she reached once more for the heavens, but again, the hunter's call.
Each note echoed with fervor. The illusion was complete. Enraptured, the whispers of the guests fell to nothing. The music carried beyond the simple plucking of the biwa strings.
At last, Ameiko stepped forward on one arched knee, reaching a hand as if for assistance, but the music died away. The hall was silent.
The hunter was safe, the boar was dead, and the hawk, fallen from the sky, would never rise again.
The dance was finished, but for several seconds, no sound rose from the chambers. Then, with a loud boom, the Crab pounded their hands on their table, cheering at the beauty of the simple country dance. Shortly after came the awed shouts of the Unicorn, and the polite applause of the Phoenix. Even the stoic Lion, refusing at first to watch, had been drawn into Ameiko's recital. Their applause was quiet but sincere.
"My lord," Yoshi whispered into his champion's ear as Ameiko and her handmaiden bowed to the applause. "It is time to meet with the Lion."
Hoturi looked across the hall, jushin and his men were standing and glancing toward his table
The champion of the Crane nodded. Smiling at his bride, he stood and walked around the long table to her side. Without a word, he bowed before her, nodded to her companion, and gazed proudly into Ameiko's eyes. "Thank you, my wife. You were ... perfect."
"Husband, you do me honor."
Though it did not seem much, it was enough. His compliment made her cheeks glow beneath pale makeup. Her green eyes narrowed in pleasure. To be called perfect was a Kakita artisan's fondest dream, and to be called so in public by the champion of a clan—even if that man happened also to be one's husband—was a singular honor. There would be talk through the land by midwinter, and Ameiko would again be lauded with gifts and invitations to travel to other courts.
Still, she would not go. She had never traveled from the Crane lands since their marriage. Though before their marriage she had been one of the most revered dancers in the empire, now she was content to be only his wife.
Hoturi looked at her beautiful face for a moment more, remembering each curve and line of her cheek and then turned to follow Yoshi.
It was enough.
xxxxxxxx
Hoturi stepped onto the wide balcony of Kyuden Kakita and looked down at the magnificent gardens beneath him. Three stories below, the grass shone with torchlight, and the rocks of the garden path gleamed like smooth water. The faint scent of blossoms drifted on the wind, mixed with the bitter aroma of pine and smoke from fires within the keep.
Already, the Lion had assembled on the stone balcony. As one, they bowed when Hoturi walked through their entourage toward the high seat that had been placed for him. Kakita Yoshi stood behind the ornate stool. He smiled pleasantly as his champion nodded to the Lion kneeling below him.
Beside Jushin, four samurai retainers knelt in support of his petition. Although their names were unknown to Hoturi, they each bore the Ikoma mon and seemed equally reserved. These were unusual Lion, whose very natures precluded emotional outbursts.
Hoturi took his time settling on the stool. He removed his swords and handed them to Kakita Toshimoko, who placed them upon a nearby dai-sho holder of soft cherry wood. The Lion would wait while their host took his time enjoying the autumn evening and the beauty of their surroundings. The pause was carefully planned, of course, and Hoturi waited for Yoshi's cue to begin. The courtier would instinctively understand when the Lion had exhausted their patience.
After a few moments, Hoturi saw the fan flutter slightly, indistinguishable to any glance save his own.
"Welcome, noble Lion, to the court of the Crane," Yoshi said.
Hoturi drew his attention to the Lion as if noticing them for the first time.
Again, they bowed politely.
Jushin rose from his seat and came forward. "It is my honor, Doji-sama." The Ikoma bowed, and rested on his knees before Hoturi's low stool. "We have much to discuss. The Lion are most concerned about the Crane's statements about the Osari Plains. By all the records, the plains rightfully belonged to Matsu Gusori, in the days of the Third Hantei...." All the arguments were old, tired, and worthless, but the Lion insisted on repeating them each time the clans discussed the issue.
"Yes, for certain, Ikoma-san," Hoturi nodded, "but you forget that the emperor himself allotted those lands to the Crane more than six hundred years ago. Are you questioning his decree?"
"Not at all, Doji-sama. But the plains remain our property by claim of the kami and the rightful holder, Matsu Ko-jume, and by decree of the Celestial Heavens. We are certain the emperor would agree."
"Then we shall have to ask him." Hoturi snapped, his mock anger calculated to lead the Lion through emotional territory If the Ikoma slipped during this negotiation, the Crane could easily report that his bad manners had insulted them and be perfectly justified in turning away his claims. "If you are here to discuss the emperor's business, you are sadly far from where you should be. Otosan Uchi and the Shining Prince are quite a ways north of Kyuden Kakita."
"Akodo Jushin is most wise. I'm certain. . . ." Yoshi said quietly, as if distracted.
"Ikoma!" The Lion said more loudly than was necessary, appearing uncomfortable with his own reaction.
"My pardon, noble Jushin-san. So sorry to have disturbed you. Ikoma. Of course. Please, continue."
The Lion seemed even more uncomfortable. His head nodded like a tree frog.
Red-faced, the ambassador continued, "The plains of Osari were given to the third son of Matsu, and their bounty was to be split among the clans...."
"Matsu's third son was Kojume?"
"No, Gusori."
"But Ikoma-san, you said that the Third Hantei gave the plains to a man named Kojume?"
> Flustered, the Ikoma rethought his words and tried to find his error. "No, Kojume is the current owner."
"No, Ikoma-san, Doji Reju is the current owner." Hoturi's fan snapped shut. He secretly enjoyed the Lion's discomfort. "By the decree of the kami of the Crane."
"The emperor ..."
"Has left the plains of Osari in Crane hands for more than a significant amount of time. There is no reason for the Lion to mistrust that decision." Hoturi smiled. "Tell me, Jushin, do you have the authority to withdraw the Lion troops from Sayo Castle?"
"Lord Doji-san, I cannot withdraw the troops."
Ignoring the man's implication that he was unwilling to negotiate, Hoturi took the words at face value, nearly crowing with the closeness of victory. "Then why am I talking to you? Doesn't Tsuko trust you?"
"I do, of course, have authority. I am trusted by my clan and champion." The Ikoma's chest puffed up, and his anger swelled. He opened his mouth to speak again, his jaw widening into an O of provoked emotion, and Hoturi nearly smiled.
Immediately, Kakita Yoshi twisted the man's words again. "Then you can prove your trust by following your words. Withdraw the troops from the lands around Sayo Castle."
Before the Lion could reply, the world fell apart.
A brilliant flash of orange light erupted in the air above him. A thunderous boom followed. Sparks showered down upon the assembled samurai. The light flared too brightly to see.
Hoturi leapt, reaching instinctively for his swords. As he drew the ancestral sword of the Crane, it sounded a pure bell-tone of anger. Magic, he thought, dark magic has done this, and the cost will be bitter.
Blinking rapidly, Hoturi saw old Toshimoko move in front of him, sword drawn and eyes closed.
One Lion shouted. His cry was cut off in a bloody moan. The orange light turned to serpents of flashing mist. Their bloody jaws opened and closed around the Lion samurai's arms.
Suddenly, at the edge of the balcony, four men appeared. They circled around to press their backs to the palace wall, cutting off the entrance to the court chambers. Dressed in the thin black gi of assassins, their eyes narrowed behind thin silk masks. One man motioned wildly, his voice hissing like a snake. The three others drew thin swords and leaped toward Jushin.
"Shinobi! Ninja magic!" Hoturi screamed, lunging toward them. "Toshimoko!"
It was too late. A ninja impaled Jushin from behind with a savage thrust.
Blood trailed from the Lion's mouth. He turned. Using his last strength, he cut through the ninja with a single katana strike. Staggering, jushin stepped toward the next black-clad enemy. His strength failed, and he fell to his knees. More blood rushed from his open mouth.
Toshimoko's katana carved through a second man as he leaped for Hoturi. The ninja's poisoned tanto clattered to the floor. His body parted. The sensei shook the blood from his sword, whirling in a blaze of motion and taking another stance.
Still, the brilliant serpents of light flashed blindingly.
"Hoturi!" Toshimoko called, hearing another body fall. Was it Hoturi or another Lion? Toshimoko shielded his eyes with one hand, squinting past the shimmering light. White hair flashed, and a blue gi moved with a sword strike.
Hoturi still lived.
Whirs of motion through the air became stars of pointed metal. One cut through Toshimoko's gi and thrust into his arm. A second and third missed Hoturi by a fraction. They blurred into the wood support of the balcony and stuck through the beam.
"Sensei!" cried Hoturi as he leapt toward the third ninja.
Toshimoko drew the shard of metal from his arm and threw it disdainfully to the floor.
Seeing the third Lion crumple, Hoturi placed himself between Kakita Yoshi and the poisoned blade of the assassin.
Toshimoko spun toward the wall. His bright blade cut through two magic serpents and sheared across the stone toward the ninja leader.
This was no ordinary assassin but a spellcasting shugenja, who caused the bright lights and distorted images. His spell broken, he leaped away from the Cranes blade and shouted a guttural cry of retreat. Placing his hands behind him on the wall, the shugenja walked upward.
Toshimoko stared in horror.
The man climbed much as a spider. Threads of thick green silk hung from where his hands had been. The ninja's body twisted as he scaled the wall with impossible speed. He laughed, an inhuman sound, and vanished into the darkness above the palace.
The fourth and final ninja, faced with a furious Lion and the steel blade of the Crane Champion, looked once toward his leader. With a loud kiai shout, he leaped from the balcony, landing three stories below. The ninja staggered into a run, heading for the wide expanse of the Kakita gardens.
The Lion threw himself off the balcony after the fleeing ninja. As he landed, though, there was a sickening crunch. Within moments, the Lion had stopped moving, his body as still as a shadow on the ground.
Hoturi swiftly replaced his sword and reached for the wall, ready to jump into the darkness and follow the fleeing ninja, but Yoshi's fan swiftly intervened.
"We need you whole, and safe, my lord."
Toshimoko croaked, "I am in no condition to follow.. .. That foul thing's blade has poisoned me. It is but a scratch but enough to unsteady my mind. My sword will be little better."
"Call for the Asahina healers," Hoturi commanded the servants that huddled inside the palace corridor. "And send my brother into the gardens, after that man. He must be caught, at any expense."
The heimin scurried to obey, pressing their heads to their hands in rapid gestures of respect.
Hoturi looked down at the bodies of the three Lion. Jushin's lifeless eyes stared back. "There will be a harsh price for this dishonor on my house," Hoturi whispered to the dead.
a brother's duty
Rumors flew as if with wings, fluttering throughout the palace. They chased the Daidoji guardsmen that rushed to secure the entries and guest quarters. Whispers took form with eager speed, breaking the courtesy of shoji screen and rice-paper wall.
Lady Ameiko was dead, murdered in her chambers by a Lion militia. Hoturi had gone mad, insulting Kisada, and lay mortally wounded by a Hida guardsman's blade. The Ikoma had started a fire in the upper chambers and killed all the line of Doji Satsume. Matsu Tsuko herself had arrived, demanding the surrender of the Osari Plains—no, Kyuden Kakita—no, all the Crane provinces. The only thing anyone knew for certain was that something had happened to the Lion ambassador, and that Daidoji stood outside every door, their faces blackened by duty and anger.
With the anger of a caged oni, Doji Kuwanan marched through Kyuden Kakita. The storming steps of his thickly set legs shook the delicate paper of the screens. Behind him, three somber-faced Daidoji guardsmen paced with spears raised and ready.
"Word?" Kuwanan demanded of the two gate guards.
Swiftly, they knelt as he approached. "None, my lord. Nothing on the road, and nothing in the river. Either the fleeing assassin has escaped on foot, or he is still within the palace." Even for a member of the Daidoji family, the man's words were terse, with none of the courtly frills one might expect from a Crane. The Daidoji were the youngest family of the clan, formed from the children of Lady Doji and Lord Kakita and sworn to defend Crane land and honor with their lives.
Kuwanan nodded. Rage burned in his silent visage. Turning, he straightened his shoulders. "Send twelve men to check the countryside outside the palace. Keep the guards in place, and bring me another four to search the southern gardens."
The Daidoji lowered his head again and then stood. As he reached for his spear, Kuwanan could see the twisted snakes that laced his wrists in blue, tattooed coils. The marks of the Daidoji family were granted only to those who passed their trials of manhood.
Kuwanan's own hands tensed reflexively. Those tattooed serpents had nearly encased his own arms and marked his destiny, but his father had determined another course.
No time for memories.
Kuwanan's stride echoed heavily thr
ough the Kakita corridors. He was short, compact with muscle, and thick-necked, with a square jaw and a nose that curved slightly from being broken three times in his youth. Kuwanan was by no means the beauty of the Doji family, but he was its strength. In that, he had everything in common with the Daidoji at his command. Where Hoturi's white hair was long and elegant, Kuwanan kept his shorter, dyed white only out of protocol, and often pressed back with a brow band. No grace was spared in his step. No smooth courtier's voice flowed from his lips, but the trained and brutal commands of a soldier.
For the first three years of his life, Doji Kuwanan had been the younger son, forgotten in the shining light of the heir, his brother Hoturi. Then, his mother had died, and it had all changed. He had been sent to the Lion Clan to cement a treaty of peace between the two. His sensei had broken the boy and sent back a man. Kuwanan smiled at the thought. When he had left Kyuden Doji, he had been a small, angry boy whose tears could not be hidden. When he had next seen his family, he had been one of Toturi's finest students, a warrior of the Lion style, as cunning as their battle cats.
Then the Scorpion had come, and Toturi had fallen from grace. Matsu Tsuko had broken the treaty, and all the sons of the Crane had come home—including Kuwanan.
Now he served with the Daidoji, merging their defensive style with the aggression of the Akodo and the training of the masters of the Lion. The young man's anger had turned to strength, and he held two things close to his heart: the safety of the Crane and the strength of his own command.
Throwing open the palace doors, Kuwanan marched into the courtyard and approached the garden. The Daidoji guardsmen stationed in Kyuden Kakita's outer grounds would know more, and he intended to discover what they had seen.
"My lord?" a Daidoji's voice called softly through the branches of a flowering tree.
Kuwanan looked up to see a guard lying prone along one of the highest limbs, his form hidden by the shifting shadows and thick leaves. Kuwanan paused, and the Daidoji rolled nimbly from the tree, landing with no noise at all and lowering his head in a smooth bow.
