“He will desecrate the sacred body. There is no forgiveness for this,” the priest said, his voice rising.
No one moved. Shuyun glanced down at the girl who was bathed in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. It was almost too late for her. But there were edicts within his own Order forbidding any monk to do violence to a member of another church except in self-defense.
A sailor’s face appeared in the dim passage behind the priest and Shuyun addressed him, ignoring all formality, “I must have the ebony chest from my quarters, immediately.”
The man gave a quick bow and was gone. The priest and the monk stood facing each other across a space of two arm’s lengths. One man’s eyes burned with the fires of fanaticism and fear—the other’s watched and measured. There was no fear.
The sailor appeared, carrying the dark wooden box, but the priest stood his ground and would not let him pass.
“I must have my trunk. Stand aside,” Shuyun said, his voice still quiet, emotionless.
“You do not order me!”
From the hallway the captain’s voice was added to the confrontation. “Ashigaru-sum, please, do as the Brother asks. I do not wish to have you removed.”
The priest glanced over his shoulder, “To threaten me is to threaten my church. We bask in the light of the Son of Heaven. Already you have earned his disfavor, as has this heretic, this defiler of the spirit’s vessel.”
The captain did not respond. At sea his word was law, but he was no fool and knew that it was never wise to earn the Emperor’s disfavor—not this Emperor.
The situation was in danger of losing all motion, and Shuyun knew he couldn’t allow that, couldn’t wait for the captain to weigh the situation. He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving the large man blocking the door. The priest’s eyes flared and his hand moved imperceptibly toward his left wrist, a subtle motion, almost impossible to see in the dim light.
Yes, Shuyun thought, that is where the knife is. He changed the position of his hands to counter this threat and sank lower on his leading leg. They were an arm’s length apart now and Shuyun altered his time sense, slowing the world around him.
But the priest suddenly froze in his place, like a man who has seen a sand-cobra rise before him, and the monk stopped in mid-stride.
“Stand aside. I must have my chest.”
“You dare not,” the priest hissed, the air rasping out of constricted lungs. There was sweat on the man’s brow, though the night was turning cool.
“Now,” Shuyun said, his voice calm in the room charged with tension.
The older man felt his pulse begin to race out of control.
“I have the Emperor’s protection!” he almost pleaded.
In the dim light, the monk’s movements were barely seen. There was a sound of cloth tearing and then he stood with the priest’s knife in his own hand. Through the scent of sanja flower, he could smell the poison on the blade’s tip. The priest had lost his balance as he stepped back, now totally overcome by fear. Hands caught him, taking his arms. He gasped but could not find air. He did not notice when a second knife disappeared from his sash. He was half-carried, half-dragged onto the deck. For an instant his eyes met Kogami Norimasa’s. The trader did not look away to spare the priest from embarrassment. Kogami Norimasa smiled openly.
He gloats, the priest thought, unable in his state to feel anger. Two sailors held him as he leaned over the rail and was violently ill, completing his public humiliation. Ashigaru sank to the deck in a heap, his beard and clothing soiled. His mind whirled. The monk must die, screamed his thoughts. The trader must pay! May this ship and all aboard her be swallowed by the ocean!
For a moment he fell into utter darkness, and when he returned to his senses he was sure that the monk had opened him with his own knife, releasing his spirit which had then appeared in a hall before the seated form of Botahara. The Enlightened One had barely looked at him before pronouncing him unfit to return to Life as a human. Botahara had turned over a sand glass on a stand and the grains had fallen like feathers through the air—so slowly. Ashigaru’s new life would be thus—interminable, without event.
The priest shook his head to clear it. The deck hurt his back and his leg lay twisted under him where he had fallen like a drunk in his own vomit. The sky spun overhead when he moved, so he lay still watching the masts sway among the stars. The air was cool and the moon stared at him openly, unmoved by his fall. Soon the anger would return, the hatred.
* * *
More lamps had been brought to the cabin and the mother asked to leave. Shuyun raised the empty cup that sat beside the bed. He smelled it.
“Was this the only thing the priest gave her?”
The maidservant nodded. Shuyun set the cup back in its rack. For a change, one of the priests had not done his charge irreparable harm. Loda root, the sleeping draught. The girl would survive the potion’s after-effects, which were considerable.
Several wide sashes had been used to restrain the patient, but they did not stop her from shaking or reduce the pain. Shuyun held her head gently and opened one eye to the light. He nodded. The maidservant knelt to one side, ready to assist him without question. She was a good choice, the monk realized. She had all the signs of one who had seen many births and had nursed countless of her charges through their childhood illnesses. She also had utter faith in the Botahist trained.
From a silk case, Shuyun removed needles of silver and gold, sterilizing each one before carefully inserting the point into the girl’s skin. The chi flow of her body was interrupted, and suddenly there was no pain. The girl’s face softened, and her breathing became regular, almost normal.
The edge of the tiny knife was unimaginably sharp. When Shuyun drew it across the girl’s skin, she felt nothing. The monk was not a second too soon.
* * *
The priest Ashigaru mounted the steps leading from below. He ignored Shikibu Kogami seated on a cushion outside her cabin door. Ashigaru had washed and changed, and though he still felt weakened and unwell his anger carried him onto the deck. Ignoring the staring eyes, he crossed immediately to Kogami Norimasa who still held his position by the rail. All caution was abandoned now. The priest didn’t care who saw them talking. He had decided on his course of action.
He grabbed Kogami’s sleeve, roughly, and spun the smaller man around. “Now, Kogami Norimasa, you will earn your rewards.” The man’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
“Everyone watches,” Kogami protested.
“Let them watch and damn them for it!”
“Ashigaru-sum, please!” The trader was alarmed by the man’s manner and by the frenzy in his voice.
“Listen to me, Kogami,” the priest spat out the man’s name, “Jaku Katta will hear of your treachery. You have my word that if you do not follow my instructions now, you will not pass beyond the docks with your head on your shoulders. Katta-sum has no patience with failure and I do not intend to try that one’s patience.”
“But I…I was only ordered to observe, to report. I…”
“You lie, Kogami Norimasa. You were ordered to assist me and assist me you will. That, or you will lose more than your recent promotions. Do you understand?”
The smaller man nodded, unable to answer. The hand that held him shook with anger, and the priest’s eyes were wilder than ever.
Looking around him for the first time, the priest caught the stares of the crewmen, even as they turned away to avoid his eyes.
“Take this,” Ashigaru said, slipping a small packet into Kogami’s hand and closing the unwilling fingers around it. “When the young Brother has finished damning your daughter to the Netherworld you must take him some cha. No doubt he will be grateful. Make sure the cha is strong and that the contents of the packet which I have given you are stirred into it.
“Your head hangs in the balance, Kogami Norimasa, Functionary of the Second Rank. The monk need only drink the cha. No one will know it was poisoned. You will not be held accountable by the Imperial
Courts, I guarantee it. After all, the monk has saved your daughter. How could you wish him harm?
“Remember Jaku Katta of the flashing sword and let the memory of such a worthy general bring you strength.”
The priest bowed formally to Kogami Norimasa who returned the gesture as if in a dream.
He felt himself being swept along on the outgoing tide, beyond safety, beyond hope. He gripped the wooden rail with both hands and stared down into the rushing water. A glowing path of phosphorescence stretched out along the ship’s wake. He felt the tiny package in his sleeve pocket as it brushed against him. I am going to take the life of a Botahist Brother, he thought. What karma will I acquire! It will not matter that I am not blamed. He tried to work some saliva into his mouth but couldn’t.
I have no stomach for murder, he thought, no stomach at all. How could my life have come to this?
“Pride,” a small voice said from within. “Pride has brought you to this. Your life was good and yet you walked around as if under a dark cloud. Always wanting more. Humility, Botahara taught, humility.”
I will not face Jaku Katta, his mind screamed! He could see the point of Jaku’s famous sword arcing toward him.
And so he stood at the rail in the moonlight, a soft zephyr caressing him, Kogami Norimasa, the Emperor’s servant, the Brotherhood’s student—a man entirely at sea. Before him the Two-Headed Dragon had risen and stretched its wings across the southern sky. I am doomed, Kogami thought, and knew it to be true.
The monk emerged from below and spotted Kogami Norimasa leaning against the rail. He crossed the deck to where the man stood, and the trader jumped when the monk cleared his throat.
“May your harmony return within the hour, Norimasa-sum. I believe your daughter will recover entirely, though she will be very weak and should not be moved any distance for several days after we have docked. You may look in on her, but do not wake her.”
Kogami Norimasa put his hand to his face and seemed close to breaking down but took a series of deep breaths and regained a semblance of control.
“I do not know a way to express my gratitude for what you have done, Brother Shuyun. Nothing one such as myself can do would begin to repay the debt I owe to you.”
“I am a student of the Great Knowledge. How could I have done otherwise?”
Kogami Norimasa bowed deeply. “It moves me, Brother, to find one who follows the Way so completely. To meet you is a great honor.” Kogami, the bureaucrat, was shocked by the sincerity of his own words.
Shuyun bowed slightly in return. He realized now that the trader had at one time been a student of the Botaharist Brothers. The signs were all there, the inflection and the careful choice of words. The posture, the mixture of fear, awe, and suppressed resentment that so many students developed. Yet the man wore no prayer beads or icon to Botahara and he associated freely with the Tomsoian priest. A lost one, Shuyun concluded.
“If you wish to see your daughter now, you may,” Shuyun repeated thinking the man had not understood.
“First, allow me to bring you some cha,” and before Shuyun could answer, the trader in cloth was on his way to the charcoal fire amidship.
Shuyun watched the man go, but his attention was diverted by the sight of the priest who was seated, almost hidden, in the shadow of the foresail on the ship’s bow. That priest bears watching, Shuyun thought. A man who feels he has been humiliated is a dangerous man. But he was confident that the priest was a physical coward. Ashigaru would never confront him again. Even so, Shuyun regretted the incident. If the girl’s life had not been in danger, he would not have allowed the confrontation to develop. There was enough tension between the two faiths as it was, and though everyone believed that the Emperor’s interest in the Magic Cults was for purely political reasons this still gave the Tomsoian priests an advantage. The Emperor was unpredictable and could use an incident between the faiths as an excuse to try to suppress the Botahists. For this reason, the Botahists restricted their activities and waited. It was only a matter of time. The followers of Tomso were without discipline or patience and their use to the Emperor was limited.
Shuyun could see Kogami’s back as the man bent over his cha preparation. He was taking unusual care, it seemed. Gratitude, Shuyun thought.
Finally the trader rose and started across the deck, which now barely rocked on the quiet seas, yet Kogami stared intently at the two cups he carried as though spilling a drop would mean the loss of all his family honor. The moon was obscured again by clouds and Shuyun had trouble making out the trader’s face as he approached, but Shuyun sensed wrongness in the man’s carriage. All his years of training came suddenly to focus on the man before him. Shuyun knew the feeling well and had been taught to trust it completely. He controlled his breathing and took the first step into chi ten—time slowed and suddenly the trader seemed to float toward him, each step stretched to many seconds.
It is there, Shuyun thought, in the voice of his body, the wrongness. The monk waited now, waited for the knowledge that would come from his focus. He made himself an empty vessel, easier for the understanding to fill him.
And so it arrived, not like a flash, but like a long-familiar memory, one that had no surprise attached to it—and no doubts. It was there, in the merchant’s right hand, the wrongness, like a knife concealed in a sash. Yet it was only a cup of cha. Shuyun could smell the herb in the air.
The merchant came floating to a stop like a man in a dream, while everything about him screamed fear and guilt and sorrow.
Is it possible that anyone could not see this, Shuyun asked himself? Can people be that blind? The man’s fear was more obvious than the look of a lover for his beloved. Shuyun could smell the fear in the man—a pungent tang coloring his sweat. But it was not the monk that the merchant feared—at least not entirely—Shuyun was sure of that. But what was it?
“My daughter has been…” the merchant started, words coming with great difficulty, “the greatest source of joy in all of my life, though I have not always known it. I can only offer you this small token, for there is no way that I may express the gratitude which I feel.” The merchant bowed and proffered a cup to Shuyun, but it was from his left hand!
Shuyun did not return the bow but nodded at the cha Kogami still held. “Why have you chosen this?” The smell came to the monk now—faint, so faint—the poison.
The merchant fought to maintain his control. Without answering, he began to raise the cha to his mouth, but the monk’s hand was there, stopping him. The fingers rested so lightly that Kogami could barely feel them, yet he could not raise his arm. His hand trembled with the effort.
“Why have you chosen this?” Shuyun asked again.
“Please,” the man whispered, his dignity beginning to dissolve, “do not interfere, Brother.”
But still Shuyun restrained the man, seemingly without effort. “But that cup was to be mine.”
The merchant’s eyes widened and he shook his head choking back a sob. “Not now, not now….” He stared down into the steaming cup. “Karma,” he whispered. Then he looked up to meet Shuyun’s eyes. “It is not the place of a follower of the Way to interfere in a matter of…continuance. It is the law of your Order.”
The monk gave a slight nod and his hand was gone from Kogami’s arm.
The merchant released a long sigh that rattled in his throat. “Listen, Brother, here is my…death poem,” he said, forcing the words out.
“Though long veiled by clouds
And light,
Always it has awaited me,
The Two-Headed Dragon.
Beware of the priest, Brother. Beware of his master.”
The man drank off the poisoned cha and dropped the cup over the side. The desperation in his eyes was replaced now by utter and total defeat.
“May you attain perfection in your next lifetime,” the monk whispered, and bowed formally.
Kogami Norimasa crossed the deck and seated himself in a position of meditation in the shadows.
He composed his mind, hoping that, in his last moments, the poison would not rob him of all dignity. He tried to fill his mind with the presence of his wife and daughter, and when the end came, these were his final thoughts.
Three
LORD SHONTO MOTORU was in a state of extreme harmony with both himself, which was usual, and with the world, which was less common. He rode in a sampan sculled by four of his best boatmen and guarded by nine of his select guards. Ahead of him were two identical boats and behind three more. All had a large man and an elegantly kimonoed young woman seated inside, only partly visible through side curtains.
The canal they moved along was lined by high walls of plaster and stone, broken only by the arched entrances onto the waterway. Each entrance had solid gates extending to the water from which point metal grillwork descended to an underwater wall. Behind these well guarded facades stood the residences of the hereditary aristocracy of the Empire of Wa. Out of the walled gardens drifted occasional strains of music, laughter, the acrid odor of burning charcoal, perhaps a hint of perfume.
“I thought you said you were feeling secure, Uncle?” the young woman said. She was, in fact, his legally adopted daughter but had called him uncle from the day she could form the word and still persisted in its use, sometimes even in public.
“I am feeling secure, Nishi-sum, which is to say that tonight I’m not concerned about what the Emperor may be plotting. He needs me, for the moment. As to any others who may wish me short life—I’m a little more cautious. Thus the decoys, if that is why you ask. Security, as you can see, is a relative term.” He laughed.
“I think you are only happy when you are going off to war,” Nishima said. Pulling the curtain aside slightly, she peered out to assess their progress, and there, riding the surface of the canal, was her reflection, wavering like a flame. My eyes are too large, she thought and closed them slightly, but it then looked as though she were squinting so she gave it up. Her long, black hair, worn up in a formal style, was held in place by simple, wooden combs, inlaid with a motif of fine silver. She took one last look at herself, sighed, and jerked the curtain closed. The Lady Nishima Fanisan Shonto did not agree with the general assessment that she was a great beauty. To her eye, the bones of her face were too strong, her eyes the wrong shape, and, worst of all, she was too tall. She did not consider the mirror her friend.
The Initiate Brother Duology Page 6
