by Ree Soesbee
I pray we have the weapons to fight them.
the emperor's city
The final day of the Festival of the Last Harvest broke with light gray clouds and a bitter wind beneath the bright sunshine of Amat-erasu. The waving banners of the Crane still hung in the air above the tournament ground. Within the palace, fires were lit to warm the festival halls. Artisans attempted to out-do one another with their cheer and cleverness. To the sight of a casual guest, it was a magnificent end to a strikingly beautiful four-day festival.
Hoturi stood in his private chambers, the letter still crumpled in his hand. Wind blew softly through open screens, carrying the scent of blossoms not yet touched by frost. The chamber was wide, artistically arranged to suit both convenience and beauty—the perfect room for the champion of the Crane. Yet still, standing in the middle of all this perfection, Doji Hoturi was having one of the worst days of his life.
In Otosan Uchi, four Crane ambassadors had been killed. All the deaths were blamed on 'accident of coincidence.' As accidental, he supposed, as the death of Jushin at the hands of those assassins.
Hoturi walked through his room, keeping his steps as light as possible. As a youth, he had often stomped, an attempt to imitate his father's burly stride. Now he walked with purpose, deliberately keeping his motions under control. With a faint push, the balcony door slid back. The balcony was high, with a view of the gardens unmatched anywhere else in the palace. From this view, Hoturi could see the gardens, the wide fields of the Crane, and the gates of Kyuden Kakita—gates now guarded by six Daidoji soldiers, their weapons readied for battle. So different, Hoturi thought, from the merriment of only a single day ago. Leaning on the ivy-covered stones of the balcony, he watched the wind blow through the trees.
Four Crane, four honest men of standing and culture, were dead by treachery and by the Lion Clan's misplaced pride. Let them burn, Hoturi thought, crushing the carefully written parchment that had come by urgent messenger. Let all Lion burn for their arrogance and their hatred. Since the first Matsu fell before the first Kakita's blade, all Lion have hated all Crane.
It wasn't like the Lion to be so underhanded. Their typical methods included brash attacks, calls for outright war, or insipid bragging to rally their brainless troops. But now, instead of the honest Akodo that once led the clan, a Matsu of no real lineage, no honor, and less courage had claimed the throne of the Lion.
Hoturi felt sick to his stomach over all that had been lost in the coup: the lives of the Scorpion, the honor of the Lion.
Toturi, my friend. What would you think of this, if you were here to make treaties and speak of peace?
He concentrated, remembering the words of Shinsei. "If you are willing to sacrifice yourself for all things, then you can be trusted with the world," read the words of the Thousand
Year Tao. One thousand years ago, the ancient Shinsei had come down from the mountains and taught the people of Rokugan the paths of enlightenment. His words had been carried on through generations of samurai. He had taught of peace and brotherhood, and the temples raised in his name still stood across the empire. Respect among equals. Peace between brothers.
It was time for peace to end, for the Lion to know that the Crane were no longer fodder for their blades.
It was time for war.
"I trust you are finished tearing that apart?" Toshimoko bowed lightly from the chamber archway.
Hoturi raised an eyebrow, surprised to see the sensei. He had not heard Toshimoko come through the main chamber. Too tangled in my own thoughts—Hoturi chastised himself. What if the nin ja had returned? Where would he be then?
Stepping through to the balcony, Toshimoko picked a dead leaf from the thick ivy that obscured the gray stone wall. He wore his katana neatly by his side, undisturbed by death and clean of the blood that had covered it the night before.
Hoturi glanced at him. "Sensei."
"If you're finished," Toshimoko continued, "you can come inside again. It is going to rain today. Might start soon. You're wasting your energy, standing there and encouraging it."
"Four men, Toshimoko. Four men dead in Otosan Uchi, because I could not stop the assassin here."
"Four?" Toshimoko snorted, stepping back into the room and reaching for a half-empty bowl of rice. "Imagine four thousand."
"What?"
Toshimoko looked up. "Four thousand."
Before Hoturi could ask for an explanation, the guard at the door slid open the shoji screen. "My lord," the guard's boyish face was as pale as rice paper, "Daidoji Kugai-san, here to see you."
Understanding, the Crane Champion felt a great weight settle on his slim shoulders. Kugai, chui lieutenant of the scouts sent to the Osari Plains, would abandon his duty for only one reason.
The Lion had begun to march.
A look at the weary, bedraggled Daidoji who knelt outside his chamber confirmed his expectation. "Kugai -san," Hoturi said, motioning for the man to rise. "Speak."
"The armies of the Matsu gather ... to the north of Osari, my lord." The soldier's words were weary from his rapid journey. Although Kugai was a veteran of many smaller battles, his scarred brow was drawn with tension, and his brown eyes refused to look up from the lacquered wood of the apartment floor.
"How many?"
"More than ten thousand, my lord. At first count."
"And how many Daidoji stand at Osari?" Toshimoko's question was almost rhetorical.
"Four thousand, Sensei. But we have five hundred more men just three days north of here, ordered to come to Kyuden Kakita for the winter. They could be turned northward toward Osari...."
"How long until the Matsu attack?" Hoturi asked, preparing his haori vest and reaching for his swords.
"Fewer than five weeks, my champion. Sooner, if they begin to forage across the border to capture the smaller towns. Most likely, the Daidoji at the Osari Plains will see battle within two."
"How soon can Yoshi-san get an appointment with the emperor?" Hoturi asked Toshimoko.
"Four weeks. No less. For any normal man, even that would be impossible. But Yoshi-sama," Toshimoko used the higher honorific while in front of the Daidoji samurai, "always seems to do the impossible."
"Four weeks is still too long. Even if the emperor immediately grants Kakita Yoshi's request, the Lion will not hear of it until their troops have already marched through the northern fields—the villages of Gusai and Horjintu, and Sayo Castle, with all our winter reserves of grain. If they should get their hands on it," Hoturi clenched his fist with rage, pressing his hand to the low table and fighting to preserve his composure.
Toshimoko's voice was calm. "If they take Sayo Castle before the first snow, the Crane will starve through the winter, and the Lion will continue the attack in the spring. They could even launch a strike against Kyuden Kakita, if the first thaw comes early."
"Kugai-san," Hoturi commanded the kneeling Daidoji. "Rest for seven hours. Then, take forty men, and tell Daidoji Uji to go with you. If anyone can slow the Lion advance, it will be Uji."
"Fighting in the winter," Toshimoko shook his head. "The Lion are surely mad."
"A madman controls all battlefields, Sensei. Unpredictability is the gift of fortune." Hoturi's voice remained somber as he spoke.
"Kakita's words."
"And my own, Toshimoko-san." Hoturi turned again to the Daidoji warrior, "Go."
The Daidoji stood. Sharply bowing, he stepped into the hallway and was gone.
"Come with me, Toshimoko-san." Hoturi left the chamber, placing the ancient sword of the Crane in his obi and turning the hilt into a sparring position.
The corridors of the upper palace were empty of guests, although music filtered through the thin walls and heating corridors. Below, the festival was ending, and guests prepared to turn homeward to spend the winter in memories of the wonder of the Crane court.
On the Osari Plains, the Daidoji would prepare for war.
"Yoshi can speak until his delicate face turns blue, but he will
not be able to change the emperor's schedule." Toshimoko said. "We do not have the men ready to fight the Lion. Our troops are lodged for winter. We've already placed them in reserve, and the snows are beginning in the far north. Changing those orders now will mean men die marching, before they ever reach the Lion."
"I can reach the emperor."
Toshimoko stopped in the middle of the hallway, hardly believing his student's confident tone. "How?"
Pacing down a long stairwell of delicately enameled paintings, Hoturi withdrew a starched letter from his vest. The letter sent by Empress Kachiko, its imperial seal still intact, lay pressed against his fingers as he strode toward the lower levels of Kyuden Kakita. "She wishes to see me."
Shocked, Toshimoko paused in the stairwell. After a hushed intake of breath, he nearly shouted. "No."
Hoturi strode on.
The sensei was forced to leap down the stairs to catch up. "You haven't even opened it. She could be telling you of a death at court. She could be . . ." At once lost for words, Toshimoko stepped in front of Hoturi, kneeling and forcing the Crane Champion to stop. "By Lord Kakita himself, Hoturi. Who knows what that viper wants? Burn the letter. Better yet, I'll burn it for you."
"No, Sensei." Hoturi's voice was firm.
"Hoturi-sarna ..."
"Don't kneel to me, Sensei. You've enough at stake here to stand."
Toshimoko nearly leapt to his feet. "It is a trap. She is mistress of lies. Kachiko has never forgiven the Crane for our part in the death of her clan."
"Those deaths were commanded by her husband, the emperor. She cannot condemn us for his orders. And now she controls his motions, keeping his schedule light so that he will not be further burdened by insignificant delays."
"Ten years, and more, Hoturi, since you and she . . ." The sentence trailed away as Hoturi's eyes turned to ice.
Toshimoko whispered, "What can she want with you now, if not treachery?"
For a moment, Hoturi looked as exhausted as Daidoji Kugai had, kneeling on the threshold of his chambers. His gray eyes darkened, and pale hair shook about his shoulders. With a precise, slow motion, he offered the thin parchment to his sensei, lowering the letter so the mon was clearly visible on the folded sheets. "Open it."
"Floturi . . ." Toshimoko shook his head, the long braid ihumping lightly against his muscular shoulder blades. "I know what happened between you, before Kachiko was married. Half the court of the empire knew. You didn't exactly make it a secret." The steel in Hoturi's back stiffened, and the young champion half-turned to leave. "Student, listen. Understand. What was between you ... has died." Lowering his voice, the old Kakita nodded his head gently. "It died on the day we took Otosan Uchi."
"Open it." Emotionless. "She wants to see me. She will see me, and when 1 am there, I will speak to the emperor and force the Lion to retreat by the command of the Imperial Hantei." His eyes narrowed, and his hand clenched into a fist. For a moment, Toshimoko could see the boiling anger behind Hoturi's gray eyes. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it faded and was gone. "And once they have retreated, Toshimoko, we will destroy them."
It was a statement of fact, not a boast, nor merely the words of a man hoping for the best, and the sensei knew it.
"Go ahead, Toshimoko. It doesn't matter what it says. I do not have to hear the words to know her mind. And when you are done, burn it if you wish. It makes no difference to me." The letter began to fall from Doji Hoturi's hand, and Toshimoko reached to take it. "There is nothing you can say or do, Sensei, that will instruct me in this. I am going to Otosan Uchi, and I will convince her to let me see the Hantei emperor."
As his student pushed past him, Toshimoko felt the light weight of the letter in his hand. For a moment, staring at Hoturi's retreating form, he felt age settle into his bones, shifting beneath layers of callused and weathered skin. The beat of his heart seemed distant, and he felt its echo in Hoturi's fading footsteps. For a moment, he considered throwing the letter into the fireplace nearby, watching its precise calligraphy twist and burn in effigy. Imagining her face charred by the fire.
Toshimoko shook his head, clearing it of anger and hatred. Those were not the ways to enlightenment, nor were they the virtues of the Kakita Academy that he struggled to uphold. Calmness replaced doubt. Years of discipline tore away the veil of emotion.
Patiently, Toshimoko opened the parchment, breaking the delicate seal and listening to the faint crumble of rice paper beneath his hands. Two lines of calligraphy blackened the white paper.
My Lord of the Crane,
Your presence is requested in the Imperial Palace at your earliest convenience.
No formal name had been signed to the thin rice paper, but the mon of the Imperial House had been imprinted into the delicate weave, marking its contents as the true words of a member of the Flantei family. It had to have come from Kachiko.
"Damn the woman," Toshimoko said, dropping the paper into the flames. "And damn the man."
As the paper blackened and curled, he could almost hear her laughter.
xxxxxxxx
Two days passed as guests made their way out of the Kakita provinces, two days of enduring courtly farewells.
When the last guests had gone, Hoturi spoke alone with Daidoji Uji, his most trusted lieutenant. It was time to leave, and Hoturi would not see a minute wasted. Each moment that passed was one more step for the Lion troops, one more heimin killed by the Matsu.
"Sir," Uji said as he saddled Hoturi's shaggy pony. "I feel I must warn you. There is danger along the roads to Otosan Uchi. The Lion may have heard that you are leaving. A troop of Daidoji guardsmen ..."
"Would only make travel slower and more difficult," he cut in. "No, Uji-san, this is a journey I must make without your men."
Evening hung thickly about them, and Kyuden Kakita's white walls were shadowed in the first touches of twilight. Even the heimin servants had been dismissed. Only the lights of the castle gleamed palely in the night sky.
"I don't presume to judge your commands, my lord." The Daidoji shoved a lock of his unruly black hair behind his ear. Without his helm and the leather mask, Uji seemed almost common. His narrow eyes could be mistaken for those of any other samurai, but the serpentine movements of his hands as he talked gave away his true nature. "But you may be in danger."
"My sword is enough."
"For one, perhaps. Or three. But a command of troops? If you were to be captured ..."
Hoturi checked the pony's gear carefully, tugging at the straps that held the thick cotton saddlebags to the wooden curve of the saddle. "If I travel with even ten men, the Lion will know it. I wish to reach the Imperial City without their interference. The only way to do that is to hide my passage."
"Yes, my lord." Uji's voice was sullen but contained. The silence in the empty courtyard was cold, and the open gates of Kyuden Kakita gleamed faintly in the dull light of the half-moon. Hoturi glanced once more at the palace, wishing
Toshimoko had come to bid him fareweli. There was no sign of his old sensei.
Always clever, Uji nodded. "He left this afternoon, my lord. Claimed to be on his way to visit a sick relative."
Hoturi grunted, "Sick, by Doji's armor. He went to the geisha houses in Osuka village, and we all know it."
"As you say, Lord Champion. Have a good journey." Uji held the pony's reins as Hoturi stepped into the saddle, drawing his cloak and hood tightly around his face. The cotton was brown rather than the blue of the Crane, to hide his identity as he rode north. Although the lands between Kyuden Kakita and Otosan Uchi were controlled by the Crane, Hoturi would take no chances.
"Traitors hide behind masks and mon," he whispered, looking up once more at the palace.
Of course she was there. Her hair loosed for rest, she stood on their balcony and held a small fan in her ivory hands. She did not look down at him—it might have drawn attention from the few other visitors left in the days after the festival—but stared quietly at the moon above.
"Guard
her for me, Uji-san."
"Yes, Lord Doji. She will come to no harm."
Hoturi looked toward his wife's silent form and thought, I wish I could love you. Then he turned his pony and pressed his heels to its furred sides.
As his pony trotted amiably along the forest path, Hoturi wished he had one of the rolling steeds of the Unicorn. Their tall legs and agile movements gave the Unicorn an advantage in battle, and they were far easier to ride than the stubby ponies the other clans bred. The sons of Shinjo were notoriously jealous of their steeds, and few were ever allowed outside their far northern provinces. A shame. With one of their kind, the ride to Otosan Uchi would have taken half as long.
Frustrated, Hoturi kicked the pony into a faster pace, hoping to arrive at a travelers' grove by midnight. From there, he would trek northward for a week, more if Lion agents watched the main causeways, and longer still if the villages along the way were infested with plague.
He rode in silence, allowing the pony to choose its path and settling into the gentle movement of a long night's ride.
Sometime later, a faint light spilled across the dirt road, casting twisted shadows from the trees. Hoturi paused his steed and slid from the saddle, checking his sword to be certain it was ready. Leading his pony forward, he glanced into the clearing, expecting to see a small caravan or a group of merchants resting for a long journey north.
Toshimoko's voice called from the fireside, "You're late, student, and your food's nearly cold. I expect you'll clear the pony after dinner, so come and eat while you can." Without even a trace of his whimsical smile, he held out a bowl of steaming soup and tapped the coals with a hickory branch.
"Old fool. If I'd known, I would have ordered you to stay at the palace."
"Perhaps I'm an old fool," the man smiled, "but I'm here to make sure you live to be one as well."
Hoturi accepted the soup, a resigned smile on his lips. "I could order you not to come with me."
