The Initiate Brother Duology

by Russell, Sean

  “How long will this campaign against the northern barbarians take?”

  “Not more than half a year, though I will stretch it out to the tenth moon. It is always dangerous to be too successful in battle. The Emperor is not too secure himself, yeh? But for now he needs me and we both know it.”

  “It would be good if your Spiritual Advisor would arrive in time to accompany us. That would be a great help, yeh?”

  “Ah, I have not told you? He came to Yankura this morning. I received word from Tanaka. He calls our new Brother ‘a fine young colt in need of breaking.’”

  “The monk has been sent to the right liege-lord then, Uncle. Do you know anything about him?”

  “I have a full report. He seems to be somewhat special, even for a Botahist Initiate, very skilled as a doctor, very learned. I have a letter from him—the brush work is superb! I must show it to you.” He paused to pull a curtain aside a fraction of an inch to check their progress.

  “Tell me, Nishi-sum, do you remember going to the River Festival in the year I married your mother?”

  “Oh, yes, I could never forget that festival, Uncle, we had been in hiding for so many long months and then suddenly we were secure. What a beautiful autumn that was.”

  “I seem to remember that as being the year the young Botahist Neophyte bested some of the strongest fighters I have ever seen, including one of my own lieutenants on whom I had bet heavily.”

  “Yes, I remember. I wanted you to bet on the monk because he was so small and showed no fear, but as usual you ignored my excellent advice.”

  “You were precocious even then. Well, I may be wrong, but I believe that boy is our new advisor. Brother Shuyun, does that sound familiar?”

  “Shuyun…yes, that could be. If it is the same monk, you will have to rebuke him for causing his liege-lord such a great loss of money.” They both laughed, and then fell silent, lost in their memories.

  When Nishima resumed the conversation, it was on a more subdued note. “What of Lord Shidaku, Uncle, now that he has failed to contain the barbarians?”

  “Lord Shidaku is a great administrator and a terrible general. The Emperor sent him to Seh to deal with the problems left by the old bureaucracy, before the raids began. He was never meant to be a military leader. The Emperor acknowledges this and has transferred Lord Shidaku to his personal council. Lord Shidaku has thus been honored and his failure to contain the barbarians…overlooked. The Emperor is seldom so wise—good administrators are rarer than good generals, if the truth be known.”

  The sampans turned into another canal, and the wall of the Emperor’s palace grounds appeared on the left. Guards on regularly spaced towers saluted as the water-borne entourage passed.

  “Ah, you’re a governor now, Sire, see how they honor you.”

  Shonto grunted, refusing to look.

  “So, Nishi-sum, how will the Emperor entertain his guests tonight?”

  “Dancers, certainly. They are his favorites, for obvious reasons. Perhaps a short play. The finest foods, of course. Music. Maybe a poetry contest, which you will not be allowed to enter because of your esteemed father’s reputation.”

  “Good. Unlike my father, I could not win the Emperor’s poetry contest if my life depended on it. But you, my only daughter, are the one who should not be allowed to enter! I will bet on you if there is a contest.” He checked their progress again.

  “Which of the Emperor’s sons will pay court to you tonight, Nishi-sum?”

  “You tease, Uncle. The sons of the Emperor will not notice such a plain-face as me. Nor would I want them to. Boors! All three of them!”

  “But Nishi-sum, I have it on good authority that Prince Wakaro holds you in high esteem.”

  “Oh, Uncle, you must be teasing. You know I aspire to the life of a painter, or perhaps a poet. I would be miserable married to an insensitive oaf!”

  “Oh, you are too great an artist to marry an Emperor’s son?”

  Nishima colored. “Certainly not now, but who can tell what the future will bring. Women produce all the finest art in the Empire, no one can deny it. Don’t laugh! I challenge you to name seven great male artists.”

  “Haromitsa, Nokiyama, Basko…Minitsu made some fine paintings…”

  “Already you are grasping at shoots. You see, it could be a crime against our culture to make me a wife!”

  Shonto laughed derisively. “I am your father and your liege-lord. If I decide that it is in your best interest to marry someone as unworthy as an Emperor’s son—someone who could himself be Emperor one day—then you will do so!”

  Lady Nishima lowered her head. “Yes, Sire. Please excuse my bad manners. I have acted in a manner unworthy of your respect.”

  “I will consider this apology.”

  They sat in silence until the sampan turned into the palace gate and then Nishima spoke. “Satsam, Rhiyama, and Doksa the print maker.”

  “I was getting to them.”

  “Yes, Sire.” Nishima tried to hide her smile.

  The sampans docked at a stone stairway and the boatmen scrambled off to hold the craft steady. An aide to the Emperor hurried down the steps. Lord Shonto held the curtain aside so the guards could see that no one was hidden inside.

  The aide bowed as Lord Shonto and his daughter stepped ashore. They were escorted up the steps by the black-clad Palace Guard to a large open house with a massive, winglike tile roof set on carved, wooden posts. Shonto removed his sword and handed it to one of his own guard, for no one went armed into the Emperor’s presence except select members of the Imperial Guard. Assassination had too long been a tool of aspiring sons and ambitious peers for those who sat on the Dragon Throne not to have learned caution.

  The sound of flutes and harps came from one of the gardens and kites of every shape and color decorated the wind.

  “The Emperor is receiving his guests in the Garden of the Rising Moon beside the Seahorse Pond. Would you like an escort, Lord Shonto?”

  “I know my way, thank you.”

  The aide bowed and Shonto nodded in return. They walked under a long portico built in the same style as the gate house. To their right, a glimmering pool descended in three falls—the Pool of the Sun—full of flashing sunfish. Beyond this stood the most intricate hedge-maze in the Empire, planted by the ruler Shunkara VII nearly four hundred years earlier.

  The Island Palace was the Emperor’s primary residence and it was impressive not only for its size but for the astonishing beauty so many centuries of royalty had created. Originally built at the beginning of the Mori Dynasty the Island Palace had been razed by fire and rebuilt three times in six hundred years. The buildings were from five distinct periods yet placed in such a manner that harmony was never broken. The finest artisans, in a culture rich in artisans, had wrought and painted and carved and sculpted in an attempt to create perfection on earth.

  At the end of the portico was a terrace of colored stone which looked southeast into the Garden of the Rising Moon. The Seahorse Pond bordered the garden’s farthest edge. A wooden stage had been erected on the pond’s shore and within viewing distance in front of it stood a raised dais under an ornate silken canopy. A line of guests moved past the dais beneath which the Emperor sat, now hidden from Shonto’s view.

  Perhaps two hundred Imperial Guards surrounded the Emperor on three sides, kneeling in rows that radiated out from the jade-colored canopy. A dragon design was woven into this semicircle by the clever placement of guards in crimson to form the spread Dragon Fan of the Imperial family.

  His Imperial Highness, the Most Revered Son of Heaven, Exalted Emperor of the Nine Provinces of Wa and the Island of Konojii, Lord of all the World’s Oceans, Akantsu II was a small, dark man of fifty-two years.

  His father, Akantsu I, had founded the Imperial line of the Yamaku when he had ascended the throne during the chaos of the Great Plague that had decimated the population a decade and a half earlier. The former Imperial family, the Hanama, had fallen victim to the di
sease as it swept through the capital and there had been no hesitation by any number of pretenders, both legitimate and not so, to take the fallen family’s place.

  The struggle for the Dragon Throne had been short and brutal, and the outcome as much a matter of chance as martial skill. In the end, the faction that lost the fewest men to plague emerged victorious. The civil war lasted little more than three years, yet it was long enough to shake the Empire to its ancient foundations. Minor families rose to the status of Great House overnight, because of their role in a single key battle. Foot-soldiers became generals and generals peers, as the rigid social structure of the Empire crumbled.

  After two hundred and fifty years of relative peace and economic prosperity under the Hanama Dynasty, the line had ended in disease and flame. A third of the population had died before the Botahist Brotherhood found the key to both immunization and cure. The social fabric of Wa had been torn beyond restoration and, under the Yamaku, order wasn’t a priority. The roads beyond the inner provinces were unsafe to all but the largest parties; pirates infested the coastline and private wars abounded—and the Emperor obviously believed this state of affairs was to his advantage.

  In constant fear of being deposed, the Emperor had devised a number of methods to keep the aristocracy resident in the capital where the Imperial troops were supreme. By dividing the year into four “Social Seasons” the ruler could then “invite” the lords he most feared to attend whichever seasons he chose, being careful to separate any potential alliances by keeping some members isolated in the provinces. Refusing the Emperor’s invitation was an open act of treason, and staying in the capital when your presence had not been requested led to immediate suspicion on the part of the Emperor’s guard.

  To further his control, Akantsu II had disallowed the use of any harbor but Yankura, the Floating City, for the importation of trade goods and made death the penalty for smuggling. All trade could then be easily taxed by the Imperial customs officials as well as monitored by the ever present Imperial Guard. This way, other harbors—traditionally under the control of a single powerful lord—could not be used as an excuse to create large armed forces for “security” reasons. The Emperor was thorough in his bid to hold all the reins of power.

  Despite his lavish parties and his love of the social life, Akantsu II remained an enigma, even to those closest to him. His unpredictability did not win him friends, as he was known to ignore acts of loyalty as often as he rewarded them. The physical life was what drew him—hunting, hawking, dance. He sponsored kick boxing tournaments often and was known to be a fine swordsman and without fear. He had once dispatched an assassin, unaided, and then personally beheaded all the guards on duty for their failure to protect him. Like his father, Akantsu II was a formidable man.

  As Lord Shonto and Lady Nishima descended the stairs, they could see the Emperor seated on a cushion, talking with his guests. His kimono was Imperial crimson belted with a gold sash, and he held the sword of his office across his lap in a jeweled scabbard. The Empress was conspicuously absent, and though she was said to be ill it was well known that she was out of favor. A young and exquisitely beautiful Sonsa dancer was the Emperor’s current mistress—that is, she was preferred among a half-dozen.

  “There is your cousin, Kitsu-sum,” Lord Shonto said as they crossed the garden.

  “Oh, good. I must talk with her.”

  “She is your competition for the Emperor’s sons, I think.”

  “Thank you for pointing that out, Sire.”

  “That is, unless I marry her first. She’s not very pretty, but I have great affection for her.”

  “She’s the most beautiful woman either of us know, and you dote on her.” Nishima chided.

  “Huh! I’m far too old to indulge such weaknesses.”

  The Lady Kitsura Omawara saw them coming across the garden and favored them with her famous smile. Numerous hearts began to flutter. She walked toward her cousin and Shonto. Her kimono, a print of butterflies in flight, hung perfectly, the long sleeves swaying as she moved. Silver combs with jade inlay held up her dark hair and her eyes were highlighted by the most subtle use of makeup. She was a woman used to the sound of flattery.

  “Kitsura-sum, you are the reincarnation of all the Empire’s great beauties!” Nishima said, taking her cousin’s hands.

  “Lord Shonto,” Kitsura said, bowing. “Cousin, how lovely you look. And, Lord Shonto, I believe you grow younger by the day.”

  Shonto bowed lower than his position required. “I was just telling Nishima-sum that your kimono is ill-fitting, you’re skinny for your age and you walk like a boy, but because I am so fond of you, I will offer to take you from your father’s house.”

  Both women laughed. Kitsura bowed deeply. “You do me too much honor, Sire. I think you try to turn my head with flattery. Truly you are your father’s son. But I am too naive and inexperienced for a man like you. I would not allow my father to take advantage of your kind nature.”

  “It is a small thing. My house is full of stray cats already. Look at Nishi-sum. Ungrateful daughter that she is, I have affection for her all the same. Charity toward the undeserving must be a weakness of mine.”

  “You see what I must live with, Kitsura-sum? I think the Emperor would reward us if we pushed his new governor into the Seahorse Pond. Otherwise he will bankrupt the province of Seh by filling the Governor’s Palace with ‘stray cats.’”

  “We will have to ask the Emperor’s permission in this matter.” She turned to look at the dais, but then became more solemn. “I think the Emperor will request that you play for his guests, Nishi-sum. I have already been asked, and could not refuse. I hope you won’t be angry, but I suggested you might consider a duet with me?”

  “Oh, no! I have not practiced. What will we play?”

  “Play the ‘Song of the Enchanted Gardener’” Lord Shonto offered.

  “You and your Enchanted Gardener, Uncle. Don’t you ever tire of hearing it?”

  “Can one tire of perfection?”

  Nishima rolled her eyes. “Now we will receive a lecture in the philosophy of aesthetics. Run, Kitsura-sum, I will try to hold him!”

  They laughed as they crossed the garden toward the receiving line. A gong sounded, announcing the hour of the cat. It was near dusk and servants began lighting colored lanterns.

  Lord Shonto and Lady Nishima stopped several times to greet guests and exchange news.

  At one point Nishima touched her uncle’s arm and whispered to him, “There is Lady Okara, the painter.”

  The woman stood among a throng who seemed to be her personal court. It was obvious that they hung on her every word.

  “She is almost never seen at social gatherings. I must try to work up my nerve to meet her.”

  “I will introduce you, Nishima-sum, she is an old friend.”

  “Don’t tease me, Uncle, this is a serious matter. She is the most accomplished painter of the century! I have admired her work for years.”

  “I do not tease. Come, flutter your eyelashes at the Emperor and then I will introduce you to your goddess.”

  The line moved along very slowly, the guests trying to hold the Emperor’s attention as long as they could, thus signifying to what degree they had the ruler’s favor. In their turn, they knelt before the dais on a grass mat and touched their heads to the ground. The Emperor never rose or bowed to his subjects but nodded slightly to recognize their presence. Lord Shonto and Lady Nishima were announced by an aide and bowed low, remaining in the kneeling position.

  “Lord Shonto, Lady Nishima, I am honored that you have come.”

  “The honor, Sire, is ours entirely,” Lord Shonto answered for both of them, as his position required.

  The Emperor turned his attention to Nishima as if there was a matter of great importance that demanded immediate attention. “Lady Nishima, I wish to ask you a great favor.”

  “Name it, Sire, and I shall comply.”

  “We have already asked Lady K
itsura if she would play for our guests and she has honored me by agreeing. Would you accompany her?”

  “I am hardly a musician of sufficient skill to perform for such an esteemed audience, but as the Emperor asks, it would be my honor to do so.

  “I must apologize though, Sire, for I failed to anticipate this request and did not bring an instrument.”

  “One shall be found for you, then, one that I’m sure will be to your liking. What will you play, Lady?”

  “Certainly we would allow the Emperor to make that decision if the selection is within our skills.”

  “Wonderful! Do you know the ‘Song of the Enchanted Gardener’?”

  “Yes, Sire. A lovely melody and a fine choice.”

  “Good, good!” He broke into a toothy grin which disappeared just as quickly.

  Turning to Lord Shonto, the Emperor changed his tone of address and immediately had the attention of all those around him.

  “Lord Shonto Motoru, Imperial Governor of the Province of Seh, as I have invested you, when do you leave to protect our northern border?”

  “Within the week, Sire. My household and my forces prepare.”

  “You are efficient as well as courageous. How long will it take to teach the barbarian rabble proper respect for the Emperor of Wa?”

  “I have sent my son ahead to assess the situation and have not yet received his report but, even so, I hope the campaign will be short.”

  “The barbarians are poor students, but I send them my best teacher. A year, then?”

  “A year should be adequate. Lessons learned too quickly are most easily forgotten.”

  Rising to his full sitting height, the Emperor said, “Do you hear? The new Governor of Seh will cleanse our northern border of the barbarians in one year!” He bowed slightly to Shonto and said, his voice surprisingly cold, “I salute you, Lord Shonto.”