by Lian Hearn
Kiyoyori lowered the sword, went to Hina, and took her in his arms.
“Father,” Hina said again, with sorrow, for she knew he was about to leave her, this time forever.
“My work is done,” Kiyoyori said. “Don’t weep for me, my brave daughter.”
He handed Jato back to Shika and said, “Thank you, Shikanoko. All debts between us are settled.”
Yoshi still knelt on the ground, Kon on his shoulder.
“Jato, we may need to fight now,” Shika said quietly, looking at Aritomo’s men, who, shocked and enraged by the death of their lord, were gathering around them. “This is your true emperor,” he cried to them. “Lay down your weapons and surrender to him!”
When none of them obeyed, Kiyoyori called toward the lake. “Come, Tsumaru, my son! I am ready to join you!”
There was a sound like a thunderclap and a crackle of flame. A cloud of steam rolled over them. The lake was boiling. Some said, afterward, they saw the dragon child, with its wings and its talons, its ruby red eyes, take Kiyoyori’s spirit in its embrace and descend with him into the lake, where father and son would dwell together until the end of time. Hina believed it was true. But she herself saw nothing until the steam cleared. Aritomo lay dead; his warriors milled to and fro, unsure whether to flee or to fight or to surrender; the crowd was running away; werehawks circled overhead, crying in triumph. Down the river, from the north, came an army like nothing she had ever seen before. Warriors with one eye, with wooden legs, with hooks in place of hands, the Crippled Army, and at their head, riding on a black horse, a man who resembled Mu as closely as a twin. The guards who had not run away already tried to do so now, but for most of them it was too late.
Shikanoko went to Yoshi, loosened his hands, raised him to his feet, then knelt before him, offering him Jato.
“Your Majesty may now safely ascend the Lotus Throne,” he said in a loud voice that echoed around Ryusonji. Kon fluttered down in front of them, calling exultantly.
“I don’t want your sword,” Yoshi said. “I don’t want to be Emperor. You can’t make me. I would rather be dead!”
As if in response rain began to fall heavily.
19
SHIKANOKO
“It has nothing to do with whether you want it or not,” Shikanoko said, making no attempt to hide his exasperation. It was a cold day in early winter. It seemed he had made the same argument a hundred times. Yoshimori had been moved to the luxurious palace that had been built for Daigen, and clothed in robes befitting an emperor, but he still refused to start acting as one. “You were born into this position, by the will of Heaven. The whole land, all the Eight Islands, depends on you. It’s not possible for you to refuse it.”
“There must be someone else, someone who actually wants to be Emperor,” Yoshi said. “What about the one who was ruling before I was discovered?”
“The former Emperor Daigen has been sent into exile,” Shika said, “along with his mother and his household. He may never return to Miyako, but he will not be ill treated.”
Kuro and Kiku had offered to get rid of him, but Shika had forbidden it and had sent Daigen away before the brothers could dispatch him in the way they had the women and children at Kumayama.
“Does that mean you had him killed?” Yoshi said, eyeing Shika with mistrust. “And you will have me killed, when I become an inconvenience.”
“I swear he is alive. As for you, you are the son of Heaven. I offered my sword, Jato, to you. I will serve you for the rest of my life.”
“As I said, I don’t want your sword,” said Yoshi. “I gave it to Take.”
When Shika merely bowed in response, Yoshi said, “If I did agree to become emperor my first imperial command would be to send you into exile!”
“If that is to be the price, I will pay it,” Shika replied. Yoshimori had threatened this in previous conversations, and exile was beginning to look more and more attractive. Quite apart from Yoshi’s stubbornness, life in the capital, as the Kakizuki returned to take up power again and Kiku and his Crippled Army demanded recognition and rewards for their part in the victory, became more complicated every day. Everyone came to him with requests, demands, threats, promises. Lord Keita was reputed to be on his way back from Rakuhara and his old palace was being restored to all its former luxury. Minatogura had fallen to Takauji, who had declared his loyalty to the true emperor and wrote asking for advice on how to subdue and administer the port city.
Aritomo and his warriors had to be buried with all the appropriate ceremonies lest their enraged spirits return to haunt the capital.
Hina and Ibara were living in Lord Kiyoyori’s old house, but Shika had not visited them, had not seen Hina since the day of Aritomo’s death. He told himself he had been too busy, but he was not sure of his own feelings, and besides, what did he have to offer her? It was clear that she loved him, for she had been able to break the spell of the mask, but what could he do about it if he was under threat of banishment?
Who am I? he had often thought during the sleepless nights as autumn turned to winter. Who is this person, a grown man, to whom they defer as if he knows what is right and what to do next? He had lived for years in the forest. He knew nothing of the administration of cities, of the entire country. He saw people turn to him, but they were afraid of him. He remembered the promise of the mask. Should he take up residence at Ryusonji and become another Prince Abbot, practicing that sacred sorcery that protected the realm? Or was his calling to be like Kiyoyori, a warrior lord, a great general, defeating the Emperor’s enemies, pacifying the outer islands, repelling invaders? Everything was possible to him, yet without Yoshimori’s trust and cooperation he could do nothing.
“Your life will not be unpleasant,” he said now to Yoshimori. “You will never lack anything, never be hungry again. I’ve been told you are very fond of women—you will have all the concubines you want, the most beautiful girls in the realm, or boys if you prefer. You will marry a princess.”
“What if I told you I was already married?” Yoshi said. “I don’t want any other woman, I want only her.”
“I am not sure she would be considered suitable,” Shika said.
“Then I will never be emperor,” Yoshi replied.
“Maybe she could be included among your concubines,” Shika suggested.
Yoshi gave him a look of contempt as if this was not even worth answering.
“In any case, I won’t be able to roam in the forest with Saru and the monkeys, will I?” he said finally.
“A forest can be put aside for you and filled with monkeys, I suppose,” Shika said. “And Saru can join you wherever you like. He can be given a noble rank.” He had discovered that Saru was the youngest brother of Taro, who had taken Kiyoyori’s place on the ferry across the river of death. Saru deserved some reward for his brother’s sacrifice. “Where is he now?”
“He is here in the palace recovering. But he wants to go back to Aomizu with the other acrobats, those who survived. If only I were free to go with them!”
“None of us is free,” Shika said. “We are all constrained by ties of duty, loyalty, service. You are bound to Heaven, I am bound to you, and so it goes throughout the realm.”
“On the riverbank I was free,” Yoshimori replied. “We all were. You should know this, you lived in the Darkwood like a wild animal for years, doing as you pleased, obeying no one.”
Shika did not reply for a few moments, thinking of the Darkwood, of the pleasures and suffering he had experienced there, of all its creatures, both real and magical.
“I was less free there than I am now,” he said finally. “I was trapped, half man and half stag, imprisoned by another’s sorcery and my own guilt and grief.” He took a deep breath and said, “I suppose we must face what took place all those years ago.” It was painful, but he would do anything to obtain reconciliation between them.
“You were going to kill me,” Yoshimori said. “I have never spoken of it to anyone, but I have nev
er forgotten it. I was only six years old and you were going to kill me.”
“I deeply regret it, all of it. I have spent years atoning for it. I can only ask you to forgive me.”
“I should,” Yoshimori said, with feeling. “We are taught to forgive. But since we are being honest I will tell you I cannot. It is a gut feeling, as strong as anything I have ever felt. I cannot bear your presence. I do not even want to look at you.”
Shikanoko said nothing, feeling more alone than he ever had in his life. He could not help recalling the night he had spent with Akihime, his forbidden passion, the grief and guilt he had lived with since. He had been under the control of another’s will, had been outplayed by the Prince Abbot, had come close to killing Yoshimori. He still ached from the punishment Kon and the horses had meted out to him.
They forgave me, he thought now. But it seems Yoshimori never will.
“Heaven saved your life then,” he pleaded. “Surely that is an indication of its plans for you?”
Yoshimori’s expression changed again. “When you and I talk of Heaven we mean different things,” he said slowly. “Your world is full of sorcery and darkness, revenge, conquest, and death. Your Heaven is implacable and unfathomable. But I want to live in another kingdom, one where there is no killing, where Heaven is merciful. To rule as emperor I must accept that I am divine, the son of the gods, yet I believe that only the Secret One can be divine, and we are all equal, all his children. I cannot set myself up above others or above him. I don’t expect you to understand. It’s how I was brought up, how I’ve lived till now. It could be argued that that was my destiny.”
Shika had noticed that Yoshimori would eat only vegetables and bean curd. Take had told him a little about the sect to which the acrobats belonged. It had not seemed of any great importance. Now he saw that for Yoshi it was.
“If you want the court to stop eating meat, it is within your power to do so,” he said. “You have only to express a desire and it will be carried out. You have experienced life in a way few other emperors have. You have the knowledge and the power to do great good for your people.”
“And if I ordered you to stop all killing, would that be carried out, too?”
“No one should take another’s life lightly,” Shikanoko said. “But men will always fight to defend themselves and their families; the evil need to be kept in check, the wicked punished, the realm protected. The warrior class serves you in this respect, my son and I first among them.”
“There is no point talking to you,” Yoshimori said. “I will never be able to make you understand. But you cannot force me against my will.”
Shika knew it was true. He was the Emperor. No one could force him to do anything, not even to become emperor.
He left the hall and walked down a long passage, as courtiers on either side bowed deeply to him. On the veranda he paused to breathe and recover his equilibrium. Being with Yoshimori, feeling the strength of the younger man’s dislike, distressed him beyond words. The sky was covered by low gray clouds. The wind was icy and damp. He thought he could smell snow in it. The last of the leaves had fallen. Gardeners were gathering them into piles. On one side of the step grew an ancient kumquat tree, its fruit forming, tiny and green.
Yoshimori must ascend the throne before it ripens, he vowed.
Take was waiting for him at the gate with Nyorin, and the brown horse that had been Chika’s. He wore the sword Jato at his hip and the bow Ameyumi on his back, and carried Shika’s bow, Kodama, and quiver, and Jinan, which had been recovered after Masachika’s death.
Kon perched on the roof of the gate. The two young werehawks were sitting on Nyorin’s back. They flapped their wings and cried in excitement at Shika’s approach.
“How is he?” Take asked.
“As stubborn as ever. Between you and me I don’t think I will ever persuade him. I did not realize his religion would be such a hindrance. You were brought up with the acrobats, do you share his beliefs?”
“Not really,” Take admitted. “I admire them, but I can’t keep them myself. I like swords and fighting and eating meat.”
His honest response made Shika smile. “And the young woman he calls his wife, tell me more about her.”
“She is beautiful, clever, and kind,” Take said, a light coming into his eyes. Shika wondered if he was not a bit in love with her himself. He would soon be old enough to marry.
“He shouldn’t have to give her up,” Shika said.
“Her ears are not like other people’s,” Take explained. “They say it’s a blemish.”
“I suppose that would be a problem for the Imperial Household. They have many arcane regulations and requirements that have to be followed.”
“I’m not surprised Yoshi doesn’t want to be emperor,” Take said. “I would hate it.”
The horses picked their way through the refuse-filled streets. Shika began to think about the problems of cleaning up the capital. The river was flowing freely again, but so many people had fled, there was no one left to do menial work, and when he had suggested to Tsunetomo that the Crippled Army might help, he had been met with incredulous laughter.
“We may be cripples, but we are still warriors,” Tsunetomo said. “We will never do the work of refuse collectors.”
Take was also silent, as if preoccupied by something he did not know how to put into words. Finally he said, “Father, you should take your sword back. It doesn’t feel right that I should wear it.”
“I gave it to the Emperor and he gave it to you. It’s yours now, and will be your son’s.”
“I’m not sure that I can control it. Last night it danced for a long time around midnight and today when I went to pick it up it wriggled beneath my fingers like a snake.”
“It is Hidarisama misbehaving,” Shika said. He had been meaning to deal with the guardian spirits but had been so concerned with everything else, he had not yet had the opportunity.
“Let’s ride to Ryusonji,” he said. “I will find something there for them to look after.”
As they approached the temple Shika heard the strains of singing. Ahead of them on the long avenue that led to the main gate, a figure walked in a wavering, stumbling fashion. The werehawks squawked and cackled and flew to circle above his head, and then back to Shikanoko.
“It is a poor blind man,” Take said. “He must be lost.”
He leaped down from his horse and went to the man’s side, speaking clearly. “Sir. Let me guide you. Where is it you want to go?”
The blind man replied in a surprisingly strong voice, “I am on my way back to Ryusonji. Someone has to keep an eye on the Book of the Future. Aritomo sent me far away, but he couldn’t send me far enough!”
Shika recognized the voice and at the same time felt the bow on his back shudder and heard a whisper.
“It is our old master.”
The response came from Jato’s direction. “Now we’re in trouble.”
“He’ll be angry, won’t he?”
“He’ll be furious.”
Shika dismounted and went to Sesshin. “Master,” he said. “It is I, Shikanoko.”
Sesshin turned toward his voice. “Is that really you, my boy? It’s taken you long enough to get here. And why have you brought those rascals with you? They should be at Matsutani.”
“There’s nothing left there,” said Hidarisama.
“Was I talking to you? Silence!”
“It all burned down,” Migisama muttered.
“Silence, I said. I will deal with you later.”
“I hope to find somewhere for them at Ryusonji,” Shika said.
“Good idea. They’ll have to behave then.” Sesshin began to hum and then resumed the song he had been singing before,
At the temple of Ryusonji
Where the dragon child dwells
With his father, Kiyoyori …
He broke off to say, “You know Kiyoyori dwells there now, too?”
“I suppose his work on earth wa
s complete.” Shikanoko thought with wonder and regret of Tan, who had shared his life for so many years. “I miss him.”
“He must have had some dragon spirit in him,” Sesshin remarked. “Somehow I failed to notice that while he was alive, though I knew he was an exceptional man. I perceive much more clearly now I am blind. This young man is your son?”
“Yes, his name is Takeyoshi.”
“I can tell you have a kind heart,” Sesshin said to Take. “Try not to make as many mistakes as your father.”
“He is not cursed with the powers of sorcery,” Shika replied. “He will be a warrior, I hope.”
“Even monkeys fall from trees,” Sesshin said. “Even warriors make mistakes. And your powers have blessed you as much as they have cursed you. Your biggest mistake was not getting rid of those imps, while you had the chance.”
“We would never have rescued Yoshimori without their help,” Shika said with assumed mildness.
“Well, it’s too late now. They are in the world and you will have to live with that.”
They reached the gate, which was guarded by one of Kiku’s men, who had a powerfully muscled upper body and only one leg. Shika had seen him in action and knew he hopped faster than most men could run.
Sesshin sniffed the air rudely. “I smell one of their men here. You may find you want to deal with that as soon as possible.”
Shika was surprised and a little disconcerted to see Kiku’s man here at the temple’s gate. He had not known the Crippled Army had taken over Ryusonji. He felt a moment of disquiet that Kiku might know enough of sorcery to tap into the sacred power of the temple and gain access to the same supernatural skills as the Prince Abbot.
