The Initiate Brother Duology

by Russell, Sean

  “And we still don’t know when they were stolen?”

  “Sometime in the last ten years.”

  The Supreme Master shook his head. “All of the guardians of the Urn have been questioned now?”

  “All but two, Supreme Master.”

  “And they?”

  “They died of the plague.”

  “Huh.”

  The lamp flickered in a draft from the open screen.

  “If the scrolls have been taken to blackmail us, why haven’t they approached us with their demands?”

  “Perhaps the time is not yet right for their purpose, whatever it might be.”

  “There is another possibility, Sotura-sum. What if the scrolls have been destroyed?”

  “I refuse to believe anyone could perform such sacrilege!”

  “The followers of Tomsoma?”

  “They are bunglers and fools! They could never have accomplished the theft.”

  “I’m sure you are right, Sotura-sum. We have spies in their midst?”

  “Yes, Supreme Master, and we have contacted them. They report nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “You are thorough, Brother Sotura.”

  The Supreme Master stood for a moment more and then turned from the open doorway. “Thank you, my friend, you have been most helpful.”

  The chi quan master rose and bowed before backing out of the room.

  “Sotura-sum,” the Supreme Master said, stopping the monk at the door. “I saw your instruction of the junior Initiates today.” The Supreme Master bowed deeply to the chi quan instructor. Words were unnecessary. From the Supreme Master, there was no greater honor.

  Two

  FROM WHERE HE stood by the steps to the quarter deck, Kogami Norimasa could see the Botahist monk silhouetted against the stars as he leaned by the rigging that supported the main mast. Kogami had been watching the young Brother ever since he had boarded the ship, though the sight of the monastery where the Perfect Master had begun writing his great works had begged his attention.

  Very few had seen Jinjoh Monastery and Kogami counted himself fortunate to be among the few in yet another way. For too long he had been among the many—just another in the legion of faceless bureaucrats who served the Dragon Throne. And a very remote throne that had seemed!

  As an Imperial Functionary of the Fifth Rank, Kogami had not caught even a glimpse of the present Emperor. Yet, whether the Son of Heaven knew it or not, Kogami had been of immense benefit to him, though of course the Functionaries of the Fourth and Third Ranks had received the credit.

  But this injustice was about to be rectified. Kogami Norimasa’s abilities had finally been recognized, and by no less a figure than Jaku Katta, the Emperor’s Prime Advisor and Commander of the Imperial Guard. Such incredible luck! Such amazing good fortune! Kogami’s wife had burned incense at the family shrine every day since then, despite the cost.

  After so many years of laboring to make the Emperor richer, Kogami Norimasa would now see the rise of his own fortunes—Jaku Katta had promised him this. Kogami Norimasa, Imperial Functionary of the Third Rank.

  Not since the fall of the Hanama had Kogami dared to even dream of rising to such a position. And that was not all! Jaku Katta had granted him an Imperial Writ which would allow him to participate personally in trade outside of the Imperium—in a limited way, of course— but still, it was a privilege granted so few outside of the aristocracy. Kogami Norimasa was exceedingly clever with money and now he would have a chance to prove it beyond a doubt, on behalf of both himself and the Emperor.

  This would help compensate for the shame he felt at not having become a soldier as his father had wished. But he wasn’t made for military life; that had been apparent from his early youth, to his father’s lasting disappointment. His father had been a major in the army of the last Hanama Emperor and had died resisting the Yamaku entry into what was at that point an almost empty capital. That was the cause of Kogami Norimasa’s stalled career.

  If the plague had not decimated the Imperial Capital and, with it, the bureaucracy that made the vast Empire run, Kogami knew that he would never have been allowed to keep his head, let alone swear allegiance to the new Emperor. But now, after eight dark years in which he had risen only from the Sixth to the Fifth Rank, he was moving again! The papers had been delivered to him by Jaku Katta’s own brother, papers that bore the stamp of power; the Dragon Seal of the Emperor of Wa. It was as if the gods had decided to once again grant Kogami a future.

  The ship was only two days out of Yankura now, perhaps less. He prayed the winds would remain fair. Two more days of watching this young monk and then he would be back in Wa and his new life would begin.

  Kogami looked again at the Brother who stood motionless on the rolling deck. He had been there for hours, dressed lightly but not seeming to feel the night’s chill. They were all like that, Kogami thought. The monks who had been his teachers when he was a child had felt neither the heat nor the cold—or anger or fear for that matter. They remained enigmas, always. Even after seven years in their charge Kogami knew so little of them. But the Brothers had left their mark on him, and he knew he would never erase it.

  Despite his feelings about the Brotherhood, Kogami did not object to his wife keeping a secret shrine to Botahara—though it was really against his better judgment to allow it in their house. This was not something that was disallowed; in fact, many families he knew did the same, but, like Kogami Norimasa, they wisely kept their beliefs within their own walls. The Emperor had turned his back on the Botahist faith and any who expected to rise in His service did the same, at least outwardly. Of course, this went against the teachings of Botahara, Kogami realized, but his wife was doubly pious for his sake. The monks themselves did not follow the teachings of the Perfect Master, as Kogami understood them, for the Brotherhood meddled in politics and acquired property and wealth. Kogami sighed. What a complicated world. Time would take care of it all, though, and the Faith would still exist when Emperors and monks had passed. It had always been so.

  Outside the Imperial Service, people worshiped as they pleased and, despite the Emperor’s hatred of the Botahist faith, he had not made the mistake of openly offending the Brotherhood. The Botahists held a great deal of power in the Empire and the Son of Heaven was too aware of this.

  Kogami shifted his position to try to gain more shelter from the wind. The dark form of the monk remained unmoving at the gunnel. Perhaps he meditates upon the full moon, Kogami thought, and felt a twinge of guilt as he looked up at the pure, white disk of the autumn moon.

  I have done nothing wrong, he told himself. To watch is not a crime. That was undeniably true, but there was a slim possibility that he might be required to do more. The words of Jaku Katta came back to him again and he analyzed them for the thousandth time.

  “You will assist Ashigaru, if he requires it, though this is unlikely, otherwise you are just to observe. Get to know this monk. Buy your way into his favor if you must, but find out everything you can about him.”

  Assist Ashigaru? Assist in what? Kogami had not asked. Somehow he knew that to ask that question was to put his new future in danger. Kogami Norimasa, Functionary of the Third Rank, had pushed these thoughts from his mind.

  So far, the man Jaku spoke of had not required Kogami’s assistance—he prayed it would remain so. The priest, Ashigaru, was below decks with Kogami’s wife and his daughter who was suffering from a sickness of the sea. Kogami had disliked the priest from the moment the man had boarded the ship from the island of the barbarian.

  A large man with wiry hair and beard, Ashigaru had the look of the religious fanatic—as though he’d been out in the sun far too long. He had the habit of repeatedly tugging the lapels of his robes as he talked, pulling the material closer around him, protecting himself from a cold that no one else perceived.

  For the first few days of the voyage, Kogami had spoken to the priest only in passing, just as Jaku Katta had instructed. But since his daugh
ter had fallen ill, he’d exchanged words with Ashigaru often. This, of course, was entirely natural and should raise no suspicion; still, Kogami was most concerned about such matters, for his entire future depended on how well he performed his duty on this voyage.

  He marveled again at his good fortune. Of course he had been a perfect choice for this matter. He had traveled several times to the island of the barbarian on business for the Emperor, always posing as a vassal-merchant for some minor lord. The Son of Heaven would never have it known that he participated in trade like a common merchant! So Kogami had become a trader and traveler and, except for the time away from his family, he had come to find pleasure in this life. But on this journey Jaku Katta had asked him to take his family with him. It was not an uncommon thing for a vassal-merchant to do, especially one who was adding to his personal income on the side, as more and more seemed to be doing. Jaku had thought the family would add to Kogami’s appearance of innocence, so his wife, daughter and maidservant had accompanied him—at the Emperor’s expense, of course.

  Kogami had found much amusement in watching the reactions of his family to the absurd customs of the barbarians. They had laughed about it in private. What fun they had mimicking the things they’d seen! But now his daughter had fallen ill and Kogami had asked the priest, Ashigaru, to see her, as the members of religions were all more or less skilled in the practice of healing.

  A gong sounded and sailors began to emerge from below for the change of watch. Silently the crewmen went about their routine of examining all critical parts of the ship’s running gear. The rigging was checked briefly, but expertly, except for the shrouds where the silent Brother stood. The captain of the watch motioned toward these, shaking his head; and the sailors passed them by, leaving the monk to his meditations. The Botahist Brothers were invariably given such respect, even by those who did not love them.

  * * *

  For his part, the silent Brother stood by the rail, thinking about a woman he had never met. Her name was Lady Nishima Fanisan Shonto and she was the adopted daughter of Lord Shonto Motoru—the man Shuyun journeyed to serve. Shonto’s previous Spiritual Advisor had left a most complete report detailing everything his successor would need to know about the House of Shonto and though Shuyun had only needed to read it once to be able to recall every word, he had read the section dealing with the Lady Nishima twice, as if to reassure himself that it was true. The words of Brother Satake, Shuyun’s predecessor, revealed the man’s great affection and admiration for the young woman. Shuyun felt that, in this matter, the old monk had come very close to losing the Botahist Brother’s eternal objectivity. This made the woman even more intriguing.

  Satake-sum was not a man to be easily impressed, indeed he had been one of the most renowned Botahist Brothers of the century, a man who surely could have become Supreme Master if he had so desired. Satake-sum’s talents had been legendary, for he had attained levels of accomplishment in several endeavors that usually required the single-minded dedication and study of a lifetime. And, in many ways, this young aristocrat had been his protégée.

  Lady Nishima Fanisan Shonto—Shuyun liked even the sound of her name. Already she had gained fame for herself as a painter, a harpist, a composer of music, a poetess—and these, if Brother Satake’s report could be believed, were merely the most visible facets of a personality of even greater cultivation. It was no wonder she was so sought after. A woman of such unusual talent, the only remaining heir of the powerful Fanisan House. What other woman of the Empire was so entirely blessed?

  Shuyun contemplated the perfection of the moon as he thought of this matter and a poem came to him:

  I am drawn always toward you,

  Your delicate and distant light,

  Face which I have never seen.

  The poem seemed to release him from thoughts of Lady Nishima, at least momentarily, and he was left with memories of his earlier trip to Wa. That had been a truly exciting journey. Shuyun had lived in Jinjoh Monastery from such an early age that he had formed no clear memories of the Empire, just as he had no recollection of his parents. On that first voyage, the River Festival had been his destination and Brother Sotura, the chi quan master, had been his companion. The newly initiated monk had struggled to contain his excitement and maintain an appearance of decorum, lest he bring embarrassment to the Botahist Order.

  Though eight years had passed since that journey, Shuyun could still recall the trip in vivid detail.

  * * *

  They had been like wanderers from a far land, cast up on an unfamiliar shore. And there, before them, lay all of Wa, compressed into a space that could be walked in a day. The River Festival, lit by ten thousand lanterns, attended by uncounted people; an endless ebb and flow of humanity along the banks of the moving waters.

  To have come to this from Jinjoh Monastery…. It was as if Shuyun had completed his meditation in a barren, silent room, opened the screen to leave, and there, where a tranquil garden should have been, twenty thousand people milled and laughed and danced and sang. To the boy from the island, it seemed that unreal.

  Shuyun had followed his teacher through the crowds. Lanterns of all colors hung from the trees, and where there was no lantern light, moonlight seemed to find its way. Shuyun had seen ladies of high birth carried through the crowds on sedan chairs, smelled their perfume as they passed, laughing and hiding their faces coyly behind fans. And the next moment he had stepped over wine victims lying in their own disgorge. Fascination had caused him to pause beside the tumblers and jugglers, forcing Brother Sotura to return and find him raptly watching every movement, every trick, lost in the slow-time of chi ten.

  Shuyun and Brother Sotura had passed a tent with beautiful young women beckoning at its door, and though the women had made signs to Botahara as the monks passed, the youngest of them had tried to flirt with Shuyun and had laughed when he looked away.

  Brother Sotura had led him over a footbridge into a park, and Shuyun felt as though he had entered another kingdom. The riotous noise quieted, and the pungent smoke of cook-fires was replaced by the delicate aromas of cut flowers and rare perfumes. Drinking and laughter continued, but those drinking and laughing were dressed in elaborate silks and brocades, unlike any the young monk had never seen. Shuyun was certain Sotura had sought this place out, yet he did not know why.

  They had passed by a group of people whispering and gossiping at the edge of a circle of willows, and had come upon a stage lit by lanterns. A woman sat on cushions at the edge of the stage and read from a scroll to a silently attentive audience. Her voice was as clear as winter air, yet the words she spoke were weighty and formal. Shuyun had realized that an ancient play was being performed, and had recognized the language of antiquity, understandable, but charged with vowels that rolled oddly off the tongue.

  Sotura had settled down on a grass mat, motioning for his student to do likewise.

  “Gatherer of Clouds,” the master had whispered, and Shuyun had recognized the title from his studies.

  As the play unfolded, Shuyun had become entranced by the portrayal of a central character who was an eccentric Botahist monk, a hermit unconcerned with the day to day lives of the other characters but deeply committed to the esoteric, the intangible. It was the first time Shuyun had seen a monk depicted by someone outside his Order and he found this a fascinating if not a reassuring experience.

  It was hours before Shuyun emerged from the world of the stage and he found himself deeply moved by his first encounter with theater.

  Two days later the kick boxing began. The official who registered Shuyun for the tournament could barely hide his amusement when he realized that it was not the chi quan master but the boy who accompanied him who would compete. The politely disguised smiles quickly disappeared as Shuyun won his first contests with an ease that surprised everyone but Brother Sotura. Of course, his first opponents were not highly skilled by the standards of kick boxing, so the small monk, though he gained some respect, was still
not thought to present a threat.

  It was on this journey to the Empire that Shuyun first encountered violence. Though he had trained in chi quan for many years, the young Initiate had never seen a man consciously try to cause another damage. Among the kick boxers were those who had forsaken honor for cunning and brutality.

  But Shuyun did not lose his focus. And Sotura showed a careful confidence in him.

  As the two monks observed other bouts, it became apparent that two men fought outstandingly and were favored to win: an Imperial Guardsman named Jaku Katta, and a lieutenant of the Shonto family guard. Shuyun saw the Imperial Guardsman fight, though briefly, and it was easily apparent why he had earned the name “Black Tiger.” Jaku Katta was not only strong and fierce, but he was exceedingly clever and possessed a sense of balance which was almost uncanny. He was almost twice Shuyun’s size.

  As Shuyun faced opponent after opponent, he began to feel chi flow through him with a strength and power he had never known before. He came to realize that the violence of his adversaries enabled him to draw from an unknown reservoir of power—a well which could be tapped only when he faced true danger. Boxer after boxer was forced from the ring. Crowds began to follow Shuyun’s progress.

  As they prepared for the bout with the Shonto lieutenant, Shuyun noticed his teacher glancing at the gathered crowd. Following his instructor’s gaze, Shuyun saw a group of guards in blue livery surrounding a man, a girl, and an old Botahist monk.

  “Beware of this one,” he said as Shuyun stepped into the ring, “it is impossible to know what training he has had.”

  Shuyun obeyed the instructions of his teacher and approached the match with extra caution, but Sotura’s concerns proved unfounded. The man was as good if not better than any the young monk had yet faced, but he was still a traditional boxer and knew only the path of resistance.

  There was only one more contest after that, the one in which Shuyun faced the Imperial Guardsman. Shuyun knew that the man was physically impressive, he towered over the diminutive monk like a giant, but as Shuyun entered the ring he momentarily lost focus. For, like the tiger he was named for, Jaku Katta had gray eyes. The young monk had never before seen a man whose eyes were not brown.