The Emperor in Shadow

by Richard Parks

  I was rewarded with the sight of both Morofusa and Ujiyasu turning as red as sunsets. I tried not to smile as Kaoru returned, bearing a full jar and five cups, as four were considered unlucky.

  “With your permission, I will pour for you.” After she had dispensed full cups from the jar, she leaned closer to me. “Excuse yourself as if you mean to visit the flowers. My mistress will wait for you in your old rooms. I will see to your friends.”

  “ ‘Visiting the flowers’ was a euphemism for seeking the company of one of the women of the establishment. I excused myself and left Karou in charge of the table. Morofusa made as if to follow me, but I bade him remain, which he reluctantly did. Outside, I looked up into a moon just past new. The sakura in the courtyard, I was pleased to see, was still alive, though it had dropped its leaves for autumn.

  I saw the flare of a lantern in my old rooms, and I was careful to watch for sudden movements as I slid the door aside. While I was not expecting trouble, I had long since learned trouble often found me whether I was expecting it or not.

  “It has been a long time, Yamada-sama,” the old woman said.

  The room was now mostly used for storage: discarded odds and ends, a few unopened wine casks, that sort of thing, but there was a space in the center of the room. The Widow Tamahara kneeled there, looking up at me, a lantern by her side. She had not changed at all, which was to say she had appeared ancient to me when I saw her last and she was no less so now. I kneeled then and bowed.

  “Greetings. It is good to see you,” I said.

  She laughed, and like Kaoru, did not bother to hide it. “Oh, Lord Yamada . . . we both know this is not true. How does it feel to be back to this rat’s nest you once called home?”

  In all honesty, it felt more than a little strange. A bit melancholy, a bit familiar, though there was no point in telling Mistress Tamahara this. I answered her in appropriate kind.

  “Oh, I called it worse, I assure you,” I said, “though the rent was agreeable.”

  She grunted. “Mostly barter and promises, as I recall. Still, you did make it good before you left. So. What can I do for you—and do not bother to pretend you do not want something from me. You would not be here otherwise.”

  “That is true, though I did enjoy seeing Kaoru-chan again. She is much too good for you, of course.”

  “We agree on this much,” she said. “Yet her fate is bound to mine, for good or ill. Please understand, Lord Yamada—trouble always follows you, as the peace I’ve had since your departure has proven, so forgive me but I will ask again—what do you want?”

  I had been considering the best way to broach the subject, but in the end I knew nothing better than to be as direct as the old woman was. “Have you heard rumors of a marriage within the royal house?”

  “Of course I have. With the people who move through my establishment, it would be odd if I had not. People started talking about it soon after her arrival in the Capital. The former high priestess of Ise is to be married, though I have yet to hear any more than this and yes, that is odd. Such royal alliances tend to be shouted though the city, if not by the court then certainly everyone else. This new emperor . . . he is, I think, a bit different from the last one.”

  You have no idea how much, I thought, though it occurred to me perhaps neither did I, yet. I also took note of the timing of the marriage rumors. After Tagako reached the Capital, not before. Interesting . . .

  “So you do not know whom she is to marry either.”

  “No, nor is it the business of one such as myself. She marries, or she does not marry. One emperor passes, another serves and then passes or is removed in his turn. Nothing changes for me or my occupation, and that is the way I prefer it. When I die, as I must, I would rather it be quietly.”

  “Then I suppose you also know nothing of the schism within the Fujiwara?”

  She glared at me. “Of course I do. That is a subject of interest to nearly everyone.”

  “I was told it was because Michinori would not allow Yorimichi’s son to inherit the office of chancellor.”

  “Only part of the story,” the Widow Tamahara said, “but an important part, I will grant you. The brothers were falling out long before then. The slight of Yorimichi’s son merely brought the pot to a boil. Honestly, I expect one to kill the other sooner or later and have done with it, but even that will not cure their problems.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”

  “The squabble goes deeper. For example, neither brother has been a friend to their younger half-brother, Fujiwara no Yorinobu. They even opposed the marriage of his adopted daughter to the emperor back when he was crown prince, as I recall. Personally, I do not think they really believed that Takahito would ascend, solely because they did not wish it. Imagine their surprise when Yorinobu joined the emperor’s faction and helped ensure that very thing. Are you going to tell me you knew none of this?”

  “I knew some of it, yes. I had hoped to find out more.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, there is the disappearance of Prince Kanemore.”

  “Has he done so? I did not notice. Such things are none of my concern.”

  I knew from prior experience the Widow Tamahara, unlike most liars, was actually very good at it. Concealing and deflecting the truth was part of her stock in trade, and long practice had honed her skills. Innocent sincerity is not easy to fabricate, but I knew she could do it. So I was somewhat surprised to recognize the look of innocence without sincerity on the old woman’s face and understood she was lying. More, it was her intent that I recognize this. It occurred to me Mistress Tamahara had just told me something more important than the truth, though I might need a little time to sort out what it meant.

  “It really was good to see you again,” I said.

  “Off with you, my lord. I have a business to see to.”

  I took my leave and paused to collect Kenji and the two bushi in the main hall. All three looked disappointed to bid farewell to Kaoru, who just gave them a practiced smile.

  One day, perhaps, she will be as good a liar as her mistress.

  “What did you learn?” Kenji asked as we walked. “Anything?”

  “I learned someone anticipated my visit to the Widow Tamahara.”

  He scowled. “The same person, perhaps, who visited Master Chang Yu before we did?”

  I spared a glance at the moon. “I wondered if you had made that connection. I suspect so, though of course I don’t know. I think it’s more important to understand the visit was made, and the Widow Tamahara’s reaction to it. Like Master Chang Yu, she knows more than she’s told me. One difference is that he was terrified and she was not. Another, and perhaps equally important difference, is she made certain I was aware she knew something more than she told.”

  “Interesting,” Kenji said. “Any thoughts as to why?”

  “Perhaps it was a favor to an old friend. Or perhaps I am being led in a direction someone else wants me to go. I am curious to discover which.”

  By this time both Morofusa and Ujiyasu were staring at the pair of us as if we’d suddenly sprouted horns.

  “I don’t understand,” Morofusa said. “If she wished to help you, why did she not simply tell you what she knew?”

  “Because I believe she was not at liberty to do so. I do not blame her for this—she has no obligation to risk her life or livelihood on my account. She told me what she could, and it is up to me to understand what this means.”

  “My lord, with all respect, do you understand?” Morofusa asked. “I certainly do not.”

  “I think perhaps I might. We need to return to Prince Kanemore’s compound now.”

  Now Kenji was staring at me too. “Why tonight? Toshihide is not expecting us.”

  “I expect another attempt on Princess Tagako’s life.”

  “So does Toshihide, every minute of every day. We’ve seen the depth and detail of his preparations. What more can we do?”

  “He is correct to be
wary. What concerns me at the moment is how soon it occurs, so we are not going there to save Princess Tagako, whom I fervently pray will not need saving. We are going so I may confirm my suspicions.”

  Kenji sighed. “Merciful Buddha.”

  “One can hope. Now let us pick up the pace, shall we, gentlemen? The night will not wait for us.”

  We arrived at Prince Kanemore’s compound to be greeted by an uproar. There was only one guard on the gate, and when we were admitted into the compound, we understood why—the rest of them were searching the grounds frantically but very systematically, divided into two man teams and reporting at intervals to Toshihide, who was directing the search from the central garden.

  “What has happened?” I asked.

  “Lord Yamada! Fortunate timing. Another shikigami has been spotted on the grounds, but it has eluded us.”

  “The princess?”

  “Safe, for the moment. She is surrounded by my men, but this has left us short-handed for the search. Can you check the outbuildings on the north end?”

  “Done. Kenji, Ujiyasu—please cover the northeast section. Morofusa, with me to the northwest. We’ll meet in the center.”

  Morofusa and I sprinted to the northwest corner while Kenji and Ujimasa did the same in their assigned direction. We reached the corner where the northern and western walls met, and began working our way east.

  “Nothing here,” Morofusa finally said. We had very carefully worked our way through the first building. It was especially difficult because a shikigami required very little space when it was in its spell-paper form, as it would be if it had gone into hiding. Since the building was used for storing fabric and clothing, the creature had a multitude of places to conceal itself. While it could not accomplish its mission in that form and so I did not expect the creature to hide for long unless necessary, I knew it could do so. Thus we had to be extremely thorough.

  To the east I saw a lantern’s yellow glow as Kenji and Ujiyasu worked their side toward us. We moved on to the next building in our path. I think Morofusa and I saw the creature at the same time, a figure crouched beside an ancient sugi growing beside another storage building. Whoever it was, they had a clear view of the sleeping quarters in the rear of the main hall. Morofusa tapped my shoulder just as I was turning to warn him. He began to draw his kodachi, but I stopped him, shook my head, and motioned for him to follow me. He fell in line with me, and together we crept toward the intruder.

  The closer we got, the more it occurred to me we should not have been able to get so close. I fully expected the creature either to bolt or to attack us, but it did neither. It kept its attention focused on the north veranda of the mansion, as if it really had not noticed us or simply did not care. I could not tell which. We circled behind the building and used it as cover to approach the creature from the left.

  Closer now, I could see the thing clearly enough even in the weak light. At a distance, in the dark, it might have passed for human, but in daylight no one who was closer than a bowshot would be fooled. There was a flatness to its features that extended to its body, and it looked almost like a sumi portrait come to life, only without the artistry. As I studied the creature, I used my thumb to loosen my kodachi in its sheath, and I heard a faint click behind me as Morofusa did the same. I knew the charm which bound the onmyōji’s will to the paper would be located somewhere on the creature’s body, and not necessarily where one would expect, making it necessary, as Toshihide’s men had done before, to hack the creature to pieces to make certain of its destruction. I studied the thing as closely as I dared, searching for a line or shadow that did not appear to be part of the thing’s appearance alone.

  There.

  I took a deep breath, let it out slowly as I got ready to choose my time.

  The shikigami decided for me. Two of Toshihide’s bushi rounded the mansion on their assigned search, and in that moment the creature tensed. I had time enough to realize two things: first, the creature was about to move and second, that it would choose to move at this particular time was very strange. I put the second understanding aside for a later time, and when the creature bolted toward the mansion, I was ready. I took one step and slashed left to right at what I hoped was the correct height. I was rewarded with the sight of what had been the creature’s head separating from the rest of its body, and an instant later there was nothing but two pieces of paper of different sizes fluttering to the ground.

  The two bushi had detected our movement and rushed up to stare at the remnants. “You found it!”

  I quickly snatched up the paper from the ground as Morofusa returned his kodachi to its sheath. “I will report to Toshihide-shōshō,” I said, as I put my own blade away. “Keep searching for now. We do not know if this was the only one.”

  “Hai!”

  Kenji and Ujiyasu approached as the two Taira bushi continued their assigned course. “If you two gentlemen would finish searching this last building,” I said to Morofusa and Ujiyasu, “Kenji and I will go speak to Toshihide. Join us as soon as you are done.”

  “Hai, Yamada-sama,” Morofusa said.

  We left them to it as we made our way around the east wing of the mansion toward the garden. As we walked, I handed the remnants of the shikigami to Kenji, who paused to study them under by the light of a nearby lantern.

  “It is much easier to read when the paper hasn’t been cut to shreds,” Kenji said.

  “Somewhat risky when your first aim is to make one clean cut, rather than to simply destroy the creature, but I’m glad I succeeded. What can you make of it?”

  “Well, for one thing, the discrepancy Master Chang Yu showed us is much easier to see. It is likely I would have spotted it on my own under these circumstances,” Kenji said, “but I cannot deny visiting the old man was the best course.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I believe it was the same onmyōji as the last one, and I am almost certain this is not the work of Moritomo.”

  “Almost certain? Not completely certain?” the lantern asked.

  “As certain as I can be—” Kenji began before he realized who—or rather what—had asked the question.

  The lantern’s paper split into a grinning mouth just as a pair of eyes appeared. It detached itself from its hook on a post and floated off across the grounds, laughing.

  My kodachi was halfway out of its sheath before I realized what the creature was, and I slowly put the blade back. Kenji was fuming.

  “Stupid eavesdropping lantern ghost,” Kenji muttered. “My heart nearly stopped.”

  “Or a tsukumo-gami. Either way, it was definitely startling, somewhat annoying, but not dangerous. Which is fortunate, since such a creature is almost impossible to detect unless it reveals itself.”

  “Which they always do, since by their nature they cannot keep themselves from playing tricks or trying to startle people, as this one did,” Kenji said. “I’m sorry I cannot tell you anything else about the shikigami. We still do not know who the onmyōji is.”

  “Let’s find another lantern . . . preferably one without a sense of humor.”

  We found one on the south end of the east wing. I stopped for a minute to examine the script. There was far more of it left than the first time, and it was much easier to see. When I did so, I almost dropped the paper.

  It cannot be, I thought but then realized how foolish that was. Of course it could. I composed myself and spoke to Kenji. “I thought the script on the first shikigami looked somewhat familiar. Now I’m sure of it.”

  “You know who the onmyōji is?”

  I considered very carefully before I answered. “I said the script was familiar, and it is. I cannot say anything else for now, but I do have a person in mind.”

  “Who?”

  “Kenji-san, you will simply need to trust me for now. I will not name this person because I need confirmation before we make any accusations or take any action, should that prove necessary or advisable, and I will do my best to get that confirm
ation. This is not our most immediate concern—first we need to tell Toshihide about the shikigami.”

  Toshihide was scowling when we approached, but as soon as he saw us, his expression lightened. “Yamada-sama, I heard some commotion from the north side. What happened?”

  “Morofusa and I came upon the shikigami,” I said. “Fortunately, we were able to destroy it, but Morofusa and Ujiyasu are completing the search of the outbuildings in case there are any more.”

  “I sincerely hope not,” Toshihide said. “One is more than enough. Worse, there is still no indication of how it got in. One cannot patch a bucket if one cannot find the leak.”

  “That is indeed a problem,” I said.

  He looked grim. “Here’s another one—Her Highness knows you are here and wishes to speak with you. I apologize, but I think you might be in for it.”

  I did not bother to ask how she knew—in the confusion and excitement we had not been exceptionally concerned with discretion. Likely she had heard my name called.

  Kenji, wisely, remained in the garden to wait for Morofusa and Ujiyasu. Under the circumstances, Princess Tagako’s kicho was set up in the main hall, not the veranda. Toshihide’s bushi kept watch at all the entrances but otherwise kept a discreet distance, for which I was grateful. As it soon proved, Princess Tagako was not in the best of humors.

  “Lord Yamada, must I beg for you to visit me?”

  I bowed. “Forgive me, Highness. Concerns for your safety have kept me occupied.”

  “Safety? There is none, and I am rapidly reaching the point where my sanity is of more importance. Any of my attendants can attest to my ill temper these days. I daresay you will probably say the same.”

  “I would not consider it,” I said.

  “Liar.”

  “Well, perhaps I would consider it just a little.”

  She laughed, and finally said, “Oh, Lord Yamada . . . that is twice I’ve laughed today, and for the first time in a while.”

  “Indeed? May I ask when was the first?” I asked, eager to change the subject.