THE EMPEROR sat on his throne, his chin resting in his hand. The frown that creased his brow had, over time, been etched there permanently, never fading even when he was relaxed. He was contemplating a small lacquered box on a side table, its lid open to display a magatama on a bed of many-layered silk. The emperor, however, did not reach out to touch the stone. Gracefully curved with a single hole through its tip, the milky white translucent gem was magnificent, but it had lost its original hue. It ought to have glowed pale pink like cherry blossoms, as it had when he first saw it.
The sight of the cold, dead stone left a bitter taste in the emperor’s mouth. He had pursued the Tachibana for so long, and then, just when their secret seemed to be within his grasp, the woman had refused to divulge it—before her claim that she had been born to bring him the magatama had even dried on her lips.
None other than Prince Oh-usu had thwarted the realization of the emperor’s long-cherished dream. While the emperor acknowledged that Oh-usu was the most gifted of his children, he found his heir’s brazen confidence galling, especially when coupled with a charm and recklessness permitted only to youth. And now look what the prince had done.
The emperor could easily see why the young Tachibana maid would be drawn to Oh-usu’s handsome face and sweet words, but that only fanned his rage. Yet he was not one to lose control. Instead, he remained so composed that even those closest to him wondered if he were upset by the incident. He appeared to be taking action only because his position as ruler demanded that he do so. In reality, however, the more the emperor buried his rage, the more it grew.
He lifted his head abruptly and called out, “Sukune? Sukune, are you there?”
“Yes, my lord.” A low voice came from an alcove behind a thick curtain near the throne, a place reserved for the emperor’s closest servant. The emperor sent Sukune off on so many errands that at times he could not remember where the man was.
“Judging from the fact that we’ve received no fresh reports,” the emperor said, “Oh-usu and Akaru must have escaped to Mino.”
“Unfortunately it would appear so.”
“Good. That’s exactly what I intended. We have forced the prince to flee in such a way that he can never show his face in the capital again. And we now have a legitimate reason to invade Mino.” He paused and then continued more slowly, as though lost in thought. “It makes sense to go there anyway if we are to discover the secret of the magatama. I am sure that Mino holds some clue. I’ll be sending you as leader of the troops to capture the prince, so be ready.”
“I am at your command,” the voice behind the curtain answered.
“You mentioned earlier that there may be more than one magatama. Did you hear this from a reliable source? Do other magatama like this really exist elsewhere, ones that still cast their light?”
“My examination of ancient legends and myths does indeed suggest that this is true, my lord, although the number differs depending on the source. Some say there are five, others say eight, but it seems that several magatama were originally strung together. The custom of stringing together the fruit of the Tachibana to ward off misfortune would appear to support this tale. The necklace was called the Misumaru, meaning ‘string of beads.’”
“The Misumaru? … It has a nice sound,” the emperor murmured with a faint smile. “I’ll never know where you find such stories, but you certainly excel at ferreting out information. Keep up the good work. There is still much I need to learn about the Tachibana. All I know now is that their power can free me from death and the curse of the Sword.”
“I will make every effort to discover the secret, even if it costs me my life,” Sukune said quietly. “For your sake, my lord.”
The emperor nodded in satisfaction. He was about to speak when the curtain veiling the doorway moved and a handmaiden appeared. Kneeling before him, she announced in a clear, musical voice, “The Lady of Itsuki requests an audience with Your Highness.”
The emperor raised an eyebrow and pressed his lips together. If the visitor had been anyone but Princess Momoso, he would have refused immediately. This unexpected visit from the Itsuki no Miya, however, troubled him. Some of her recent actions had been very strange …
“Let her through,” he said. The handmaiden retreated behind the curtain.
Oil lamps were brought into the room for the guest. The emperor was surprised to realize that it was already evening. Recalling the last time he had seen his sister after sunset so many years ago, he suddenly felt uneasy.
Princess Momoso appeared with a rustle of silk. Standing in the lamplight, she was tall and fair, as slender as a young maiden and, as always, impeccably dressed. She still retained the dazzling beauty of her youth, something the emperor found inexcusable for, as the Itsuki no Miya, she had no need of beauty.
“How unlike you to visit after dark,” he said. “What do you want?”
“I just arrived from Itsuse,” she said. “The moon is very beautiful tonight, but it has become quite chilly in the evening, don’t you think?” She glided across the room toward him. “There is something that I wished to speak with you about in person. Before your spies told you.”
The emperor gave her a sharp look. “So you’ve finally decided to apologize for stealing my prisoner? Your little joke has threatened my authority over my men.”
“So you knew, did you? And I thought I had been so careful to cover any traces.” Princess Momoso smiled without any sign of discomposure. “Ah, yes, my dear brother, you know everything. Your hand reaches out to hold all within its grasp. I am aware, you know, that even among my servants there are some who are under your sway. So I am sure you must already know what I have done with the young man I took to Itsuse.”
Exasperated, the emperor began tapping the armrest with his fingers. He was fond of his sister when she was absent but whenever they met she irritated him almost instantly. It had always been this way. “I do not have time to listen to reports of you playing house, although I hear you have treated him extraordinarily well. What use have you found for that shadow?”
Princess Momoso placed a hand over her mouth and uttered a brief, triumphant laugh. “I retract what I just said, dear brother. I see that in fact you know nothing. Even though you saw him with your own eyes, you understood nothing at all.”
“Is that why you came here? To make me angry?”
She looked calmly into his glowering face. “Did you not notice? Did you not see that he looks even more like you as a young man than Oh-usu? Just one glimpse and my heart was filled with tenderness. No matter how much devotion I might show him, it could never adequately express my love for him. I was overjoyed that he was wounded for it meant that I could care for him.”
For the first time, apprehension flickered in the emperor’s eyes. “What are you saying—”
“At long last, dear brother, the god is in my hands; I hold my love within my grasp. That child is mine. He is the son I bore, the life I was given to harbor in my body.”
The emperor had risen from his seat. Without even registering his own shock, he stalked down the steps of the dais toward Princess Momoso. “Have you lost your mind? You’re the Itsuki no Miya. You have no child. You cannot possibly have a child.” He reached out to grab her arm, but she slipped away. Her eyes shone dangerously, and she moved so swiftly that she appeared to be some spirit creature.
“It was supposed to have been stillborn …” the emperor whispered through his teeth.
“No. He did not die. He was set adrift on the river, but he lived. And I will not let you kill him again.” She smiled suddenly. “He wielded the Sword.”
The shock of this statement was so great that for a moment the emperor could hardly breathe. “You—what have you done? Did you show him the Sword in the shrine without my leave? Even though to do so could mean death …”
“I do not fear death. I would gladly die for his sake. But, brother, listen. That child took the Sword and proved his legitimacy beyond all doubt. And no
t only that, he actually summoned its power. There is no other alive today who can wield the Sword. If you wish to live, you will need him on your side.”
She paused for a moment and then added, “I know that you have been searching for the secret of the Tachibana. But don’t you think that seizing control of the Sword might be a faster way to reach your goal than the fickle power of rebirth?”
The emperor stood silently. Princess Momoso, reading within his silence consent, smiled as if the future were in her hands. “We have been estranged for so long, dear brother. I admit that I too was stubborn. But now that my child has returned, the past no longer matters. Let us cease trying to outguess one another and instead work together toward a common goal. For the sake of our son. Because he is the living bond that unites us.”
2
IT HAD NEVER occurred to Toko that preparing for war could be so much work. They reinforced their stronghold by building a wooden stockade around the village, set up stone bulwarks, and erected watchtowers. With that task complete, they immediately had to bring in the harvest and take supplies to the many villages scattered far away. The blacksmiths worked against the clock, and the foremen swung their mallets all night long. The women were just as busy, producing clothes, banners, and other necessities in vast quantities.
The prince had insisted that they make a fort at the foot of Moyama where women, children, and the elderly would be safe from the battle. Building it was another huge task. With labor stretched so thin, Toko and the others who were sent to Moyama had to do almost everything themselves. Social rank and physical strength no longer mattered. For the first time in her life, Toko dug holes and pounded stakes to make a fence. It was hard work, but never boring, and much more satisfying than sewing. Or at least she thought so. More than once the stakes she pounded in had fallen over by the next day.
Kisako was excused temporarily from her duties at the shrine to help. But as far as Toko could see, she only got in the way. She was a great talker, but whenever there was hard work to do, she disappeared. I don’t think I can take this much longer without teaching her a lesson, Toko thought.
Lady Akaru was also with them, but she was very quiet, and her actions served as a model to all around her. No one rose as early as she did or worked as late, and she was always the first to volunteer for unpleasant jobs that no one else wanted to do. Even when she only had a short time to rest, she spent it diligently sewing for the prince. When Toko expressed her admiration, Lady Akaru just smiled and told her that she was used to it, having worked like this at the palace for so many years. This made Toko sad.
We’re going to win this war no matter what, she told herself. We’ll win so that the prince and Lady Akaru can live happily ever after. This thought brought her spirits up. But whenever she remembered what the high priestess had said about Oguna, she lost her natural optimism. He is an abomination, the source of all our misfortunes. Although Toko refused to believe this, the words still lay heavy on her heart.
One day as she was tilling the soil to make a vegetable patch inside the fort, Toko was overcome by a sudden wave of despair. How can she say that about Oguna when he wouldn’t even hurt a fly? she thought. Leaning against her hoe, she slid to the ground. As she stared at a clump of earth, she pictured Oguna’s face and tentative smile. He rarely laughed, and she had been secretly proud of the fact that she was the only person for whom he had always smiled. She could not understand how he could be the cause of misfortune. He was far too meek to cause any trouble.
The priestess said that her premonitions were no longer coming true. So maybe she’s mistaken about Oguna—
A shrill voice interrupted her thoughts. “Well! Look who’s slacking off. Toko, how can you be so lazy!” She glanced up and saw Kisako’s gloating face. “You’re always telling others what to do when you never do anything yourself. You act like such a good little girl in front of the priestess and Akaru, but you’re just a loudmouth, that’s all.”
Annoyed, Toko leapt to her feet and said, “You’re the bigmouth. Why don’t you shut up for once? The day you become high priestess will be the end of Mino.”
“How dare you speak to me like that! Now you’re in trouble,” Kisako snapped, scowling. “I knew that I was going to have to teach you a lesson.”
“You’ve got to be joking. That’s exactly what I was thinking about you.”
As they stood glaring at one another, Lady Akaru suddenly ran out of the building and hurried toward them. “Toko, Kisako, come quickly!” she shouted. “A messenger has come. The emperor’s troops are on the move.”
Kisako and Toko looked at one another and then ran inside, putting off their fight until later. The messenger, surrounded by a wall of people, was still talking. The soldiers gathered on the border of Mino, he reported, had fallen into a state of terrible confusion. “There’s a strange rumor spreading through the troops. They’re saying that the commander of the emperor’s forces is the true Prince Oh-usu and that the man in Mino who claims to be the prince is actually an impostor who’s deceiving us. Some of our men say that they saw this commander with their own eyes and that he was indeed the prince.”
Toko felt as if she had been struck by lightning. Oguna? she thought. Could the enemy commander be Oguna? This suspicion quickly turned to conviction. But why …
Her heart began to pound. She had to see for herself, and if it was Oguna, she had to find out why the emperor’s troops had made him out to be the prince. It might have been against his will.
When the messenger rose and headed for the door, Toko hurried over to him. “I’m going with you,” she said. “I have to know the truth.”
“Toko!” Kisako said. “That’s not fair. You’re going to leave and make everyone else do your work for you. How can you be so selfish?”
Having lost all patience, Toko raised her hand to slap Kisako in the face, but Lady Akaru slipped between them. “Stop fighting, both of you. It won’t do to have two of our own people quarrelling when we’re on the brink of war. You should use that energy for something more constructive.”
Kisako, eyes flashing, turned on her older sister. “Don’t talk like you know everything. Who was it that brought this war to Mino in the first place? You! You’re no longer the first princess. You have no right to criticize me.”
Lady Akaru’s face clouded, but she remained calm. “You’re right. I have no authority whatsoever. Far from it. In fact, I should throw myself on the ground and beg for forgiveness from our entire clan. Even so, I still have the right to say this. Kisako, a novice, no matter how great her capacity, can never truly become high priestess if she can’t understand another person’s pain. You don’t know how Toko feels. You haven’t yet found anyone who is more important to you than your own self. You’ve never known what it’s like to worry about the safety of another.”
Lady Akaru knows. She knows that I believe it’s Oguna. Toko had never been able to remain obstinate in the face of sympathy. Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked hastily.
Lady Akaru turned to her and smiled. “It’s all right,” she said. “Go and get ready. I’ll take over your work for you. Don’t worry. Who knows when I’ll have to run off myself.”
“I’m sorry. I—” Toko’s voice faltered.
“You always take Toko’s side,” Kisako cried. “Always! Whenever we quarrel, you take her side!” She burst into tears and blindly pushed people away as she headed for the door. “I do so feel pain. But no one cares about me. No one notices how much I’m suffering inside.”
This last statement bothered Toko, so before she left, she went looking for Kisako. She finally found her cousin leaning against the wooden fence behind the fort, sobbing violently.
“Kisako … um …”
At the sound of her voice, Kisako stopped crying, but she kept her face pressed against her hands where they gripped the fence. “You always loved Akaru more too,” she said. “You’ll never understand what it feels like to be compared to her all the time. No mat
ter how hard I try, I can never compete. She always shows me up. Even when I succeeded her as heir to the high priestess, everyone’s eyes were still fixed on Akaru. She’s forgiven, though she’s committed such a terrible sin. And I’m always stuck on the sidelines.”
“You’re blowing things out of proportion,” Toko blurted out. “No one would ever deny that you’re going to be the next priestess.”
“Oh, just leave me alone,” Kisako said as she burst into tears again. “The last thing I want is sympathy from someone as stupid as you.”
Toko shrugged and left. But for the first time in her life she realized that having an older sister who was too perfect might have its own trials.
TOKO RODE alongside the messenger to Kamitsusato. With her, she carried the jacket that Lady Akaru had made for the prince. She had watched Lady Akaru painstakingly sew it by the dim lamplight, trimming the hem and ties with red stitches.
Prince Oh-usu had moved his main base to Kamitsusato, having judged that the narrow valley would serve as more strategic a stronghold than Kukuri in the event of an attack by the full imperial army. For this reason, the Kamitsusato defenses had been constructed with particular care. The prince’s plan was to lure the enemy troops deep inside Mino and attack from the rear using a force concealed at Kukuri. In this way they could divide the enemy and eliminate any advantage the invading army derived from greater numbers.
When Toko reached the stockade of sharply pointed stakes surrounding Kamitsusato, she found that no one could pass through without first being challenged by archers on the watchtower above the gate. Once through, she went straight to the headman’s hall, her home. Although not much had changed, it was messier than usual. The number of people it housed kept increasing, and even the meticulous Matono seemed to be struggling to keep the confusion under control. She and several other women had decided to stay behind and look after the men rather than seek refuge. Toko guessed that this courageous decision had been inspired at least partly by her mother’s unwillingness to let the hall get any more cluttered.
Mirror Sword and Shadow Prince Page 16
