The Initiate Brother Duology

by Russell, Sean

  Shonto sat contemplating this like a man considering a move at gii—and like a gii master he showed no sign of being affected by his situation. It gave his retainers hope.

  “Lord Komawara,” Shonto said warmly, “you could do nothing but tell the truth. It could not be helped. I regret this deeply, but tomorrow we meet to plan our retreat from Seh.” He pulled the sword that was the Emperor’s gift partly from its scabbard. “Kamu-sum, starting now we will have no one but those present in councils unless I order otherwise. We give up this pretense—the government of Seh seems to be made up of informers. No guards but our own around our chambers.” Shonto slid the blade in and out of its scabbard.

  “We have one other move that we can make in this game before retreat and cover. Kamu-sum, prepare a tract that says the Government of the Province of Seh is paying gold for the service of armed men. They will not come in time, perhaps, but they will come as we move south.”

  The Major Chancellor, Lord Gitoyo, bobbed quickly. “Sire, Lord Governor…the Emperor demands his taxes. We dare not delay longer. There is certainly not enough gold to raise an army.”

  “Huh.” Shonto examined the flawless metal blade. “We must not keep the Emperor waiting for his taxes. That would be unthinkable.” He smiled at those around him. “Entirely unthinkable.”

  Komawara gave a deep bow. “There is one other action we could consider, Lord Shonto.”

  Shonto nodded.

  “The springs closest to our border in the steppe—they could be poisoned as winter ends.”

  * * *

  Komawara returned to the festivities, though his heart wanted to be gone. An urge to race a horse with a great heart across the hills took hold of him, as though he could leave what he felt behind. His own countrymen, northerners, were surrendering Seh to the barbarians! When the Khan swept across the border with his army, then these men would be ready to fight—when the only sensible course of action would be to retreat as Lord Shonto planned. They would all die so it could be said that they did not abandon Seh, despite the odds. The bravery of fools….

  Pulling his thoughts away from this problem, he searched the gathering for a glimpse of Lady Nishima. She had spoken to him earlier and he had alternately felt delight and despair ever since. Her robe of rich blue with its pattern of snow falling on the Mountain of the Pure Spirit was nowhere to be seen. Despair.

  Lord Toshaki’s eldest son, Toshaki Yoshihira, surrounded by a group of laughing kinsmen, rose from a low table. He spotted Komawara as he gained his feet and stopped. Breaking into a grin, he made a sudden extravagant bow and then rose, his face flushed from drink.

  “Lord Komawara,” he enunciated with the care of a man who had drunk his limit, “it is my hope that in future First Moon Festivals that Prince Yoshinaga slaying the dragon will be replaced by Lord Komawara meeting the dragon.”

  Toshaki’s cousins showed some con laughter was subdued. Komawara had a reputatiocern at this insult and theirn as a swordsman that was respected.

  “Perhaps it could be replaced by Lord Toshaki discovering foolhardiness in a wine cup,” Komawara said evenly.

  Suddenly Shuyun and Lord Gitoyo’s son were beside him. “There are more important fights than this, Lord Komawara,” Captain Gitoyo said quietly.

  “Listen to your friend, Lord Komawara,” Toshaki slurred. “You must save your courage for the barbarian hordes.”

  Komawara felt restraining hands on either of his arms. “I would not have the blood of a fool on my sword,” Gitoyo whispered. “Come away from this. You of all people do not need to prove bravery.”

  Komawara gave way to the pressure on his arm and began to turn away.

  Toshaki bent over the nearby table and retrieved a lacquered chopstick. He brandished this like a sword and stepped into the guard position. “Lord Komawara, you need a proper weapon to slay dragons and barbarian hordes. I would be honored if you would take mine.”

  Komawara broke free of his companions and spun back toward the Toshaki lord but, impossibly, Shuyun stood facing Toshaki, his back blocking Komawara.

  “My lord,” Shuyun said quietly, “that is a dangerous weapon to wield in the governor’s hall.”

  Toshaki stood with his chopstick before him like a sword, suddenly looking unsure of himself. Botahist monks did not confront peers.

  The implement disappeared from Toshaki’s hand as the monk’s arm became a blur of motion. Toshaki stepped back into his kinsman.

  “Such a weapon should never be drawn in polite company.”

  Again Shuyun moved with a speed that was impossible to follow. There was a crack of wood hitting wood, not loud but strangely piercing. Shuyun bowed low before Toshaki who stared down at the chopstick Shuyun had driven into the table.

  “May your journey bring you wisdom, Sire,” Shuyun almost whispered.

  Toshaki stood staring at Shuyun for several seconds, his face contorted and unreadable. Then, realizing that his supporters retreated, he turned away and disappeared among the crowd.

  Shuyun stood watching the young lord’s retreat, then he faced his companions.

  Komawara’s gaze was fixed on the point where Lord Toshaki had disappeared. He looked at Shuyun suddenly and he shook his head. “You should not, Brother,” he whispered. “Such things are beneath you.”

  With a nod to Gitoyo, he turned and went off in the opposite direction Toshaki had taken. The people present became a blur of colored silk and the sounds a low roar in which nothing could be distinguished. Komawara trembled with anger.

  I have become the object of ridicule among my own countrymen, the lord thought. And despite all that I have done, my province will be put to the sword and the torch.

  He stumbled out beyond the row of pillars toward the doors. And there he saw Lady Nishima in serious conversation with General Jaku Katta, of the Imperial Guard. She faced toward Komawara as she spoke, but she did not see him, that was clear.

  He stood for a moment looking at this scene and then passed through the great doors into the courtyard. Like Yoshihira, he disappeared into the night.

  * * *

  It had not been easy for Lady Nishima to slip away; she was, after all, the governor’s daughter, but she was becoming experienced in such matters. The sounds of music and conversation from the hall were barely muted by the pillar she stood behind yet it would be difficult to leave the hall entirely without passing out into a cold night.

  She tapped a closed fan into the palm of her hand in what looked like impatience but was really a disguise for anxiety. After she had successfully avoided Jaku Katta all evening, he had sent her a poem that he knew she could not ignore.

  She had struggled to read in the poor light:

  Season of cold hearts

  No warmth from the white robe,

  Snow upon the shinta leaves.

  Who knows how deep the frost shall reach?

  There is something you must hear

  Nishima’s heart raced. Some part of her hoped that Jaku would prove to be honorable and this hope unsettled her. Surely it was the worst foolishness. Look how he had acted so recently with Kitsu-sum! She was about to return to the gathering when a dark form appeared down the row of columns. Though it required some effort, Nishima waited with what she hoped would be an appearance of calm.

  Jaku walked toward her, his strong, graceful form appearing and disappearing as he went from light into shadow into light again. Finally he stepped into the same shadow that Nishima occupied. Gray eyes almost seemed to glow in the pale light. Jaku bowed deeply.

  Nishima nodded. “General….” She was about to pursue a polite course of conversation but caught herself. “What is this matter you have written of, General Jaku?”

  If Jaku felt this was an insult, he did not show it.

  “It is something that should be spoken of in more private surroundings,” Jaku said, his voice low.

  “Perhaps it should be spoken of in the presence of my uncle,” Nishima said curtly.

  �
��This is information for your ears, Lady Nishima. It is to show that my intentions are honorable, though I fear that they will be misunderstood as they have been in the past.”

  “You wrong me, General—I was not aware that your intentions had been misunderstood.” Nishima waved her fan open. “What is this information you speak of? The night grows cold, General Jaku.”

  Jaku nodded, looking over his shoulder quickly. “I am concerned, Nishima-sum,” he met her eyes for a second, but when she did not react to him dropping her title he went on quickly. “I fear the Emperor will not respond to my plea for troops: the intrigues of the court are beyond imagining and difficult to untangle, even while living in the palace. The webs spun in the Emperor’s court are such that I risked much to have written as I did, for myself and my family.”

  “Do you suggest, General, that the Emperor will not respond to your letters as you hope?”

  Jaku hesitated. “It is a possibility, Lady Nishima.”

  “Huh.” She waited.

  After it was apparent she would say no more, Jaku went on. “The Emperor’s support is desperately needed, I know, but if it cannot be obtained, Lady Nishima, I will not return quietly to the capital.” Again he searched her eyes. “I will warn my family and remain in Seh to do what I can. Though it is said by some that Jaku Katta takes only the course of greatest opportunity, I will fight beside the Shonto though I will gain the enmity of the Son of Heaven.”

  Nishima looked away. A man stepped out from behind a pillar not far off, hesitated, and then passed through the doors leading to the courtyard.

  “Tell me, Katta-sum,” Nishima almost whispered, “will the Emperor send troops to us? Is there no hope?”

  She watched the guardsman as he considered her question.

  “I am not without influence at court, Nishima-sum, but others may hold sway—while I am here. It is…it is possible that my voice will not carry, it pains me to say.”

  Nishima nodded sadly as she looked down at the floor. “And this mad design to bring down my father, you took no part in it?”

  “Once I had learned of it,” Jaku stepped closer and lowered his voice, “I took some time to speak, it is true. My loyalties were tested…until I spoke to you at the Celebration of the Emperor’s Ascension. My shame that I did not speak sooner.”

  Nishima’s fan stopped in the middle of its sweep. A warm hand touched her cheek and she pulled away. Looking up she met Jaku’s gray eyes, as impenetrable as cloud. Turning away she walked back into the bright hall.

  Sixteen

  NISHIMA UNFOLDED the letter for the second time and read the single poem.

  Season of cold hearts

  No warmth from the white robe,

  Snow upon the shinta leaves.

  Who knows how deep the frost shall reach?

  There is something you must hear

  Nishima’s thoughts whirled as though the Nagana blew through her mind, swirling everything into a tangle. Jaku had lied to her. She was more sure of this than she was of her own name, and far more sure than she was of her feelings. Although she would not have evidence until letters arrived from Kitsura’s family, there was no doubt. Jaku Katta was no longer in favor at court. It was all a pose. She wondered again if her father truly relied on the guardsman to gain the Emperor’s support—for in reality, Jaku’s efforts would almost certainly insure the Emperor’s refusal.

  And Jaku had been involved in the plot to bring down her House. No doubt he hoped to raise the other Great Houses against the Emperor who had brought down the Shonto, or perhaps it would just be a quiet murder in the Imperial Apartments, and then place Nishima Fanisan Shonto on the Dragon Throne…destroying her life in every way.

  And yet, and yet. Nishima had pulled away at Jaku’s touch…not because this brought her no pleasure. A single touch of his hand caused her body to betray her entirely. She found herself wanting to believe him, or worse yet, knowing what Jaku was and not caring. No, she could never allow him close to her again. He was worse than an opportunist, he was without honor. To bring down those she loved and pose as her savior! She pulled his letter from her sleeve and tore it deliberately into shreds. Childish but satisfying.

  A bell sounded far off, muffled by the few inches of snow that covered Rhojo-ma. It was almost morning and she had not slept, still wore formal robes under the lined over-robe she had donned against the cold. She plunged a poker into the charcoal burner and rearranged the coals to let the air flow through. A wave of warmth reached out and Nishima pulled the fine silks of her robes close, pushing her hands into the sleeves.

  Nishima lay down on the cushions and closed her eyes, but sleep was not near. She examined the room she had been given. A pleasant place, almost bare but for her writing table, a small stand bearing an arrangement of winter flora, and a three-section painted screen displaying scenes of a spring party under the plum blossoms. A thick rug made by the tribes was set squarely in the middle of the straw-matted floor and on this her cushions were arranged. Three lamps washed the room in warm light, reflecting off the lacquered beams and posts.

  A simple place, without the clutter some people preferred. When very young Nishima’s true father had once taken her to the home of the Shonto vassal-merchant, Tanaka. A lifetime of trading had burdened him with the most unbelievable collection of furnishings. Cabinets and trunks, chests with drawers, and, most surprising to her, Tanaka owned chairs. She had never sat in a chair before. Nishima had a clear memory of climbing up into one of these elaborate oddities to perch, swinging her feet, pretending she was a princess. The idea of being a princess had not seemed frightening then.

  Nishima closed her eyes again. Her thoughts became lost in other images; Jaku Katta’s animal eyes, a dark wooden box of tiny drawers each containing a child’s treasure, the view from Lady Okara’s terrace, the sound of spring rain on tile, the touch of a man’s hand on her breast. Nothing that could be remembered when she awoke to early morning light.

  She was cold! The charcoal had long since given up its heat. She sat up awkwardly, not allowing her hands out into the frigid air. A servant peered in through a crack in the screens.

  “There is a warm bath waiting, Lady Nishima.”

  “May Botahara chant your name,” Nishima said and her servant bowed.

  She felt like ice as she slipped into the steaming water and expected to bob to the surface as she had once seen a block of ice do as it slipped from the shore into the moving river.

  I will never be warm again, she thought, or at least not until spring.

  Nishima came back to the question that she had asked herself most of the night: should she tell her father about Jaku’s situation at court? And if so, how would she present this information so that it would not seem she doubted his abilities. It was a delicate situation. Her uncle indulged her terribly, she knew, but his knowledge of the intrigues of the Empire was vast and his ability to gather and sift information was legendary. Nishima wondered at her own temerity venturing to advise the gii master.

  He has so much to consider, she told herself, and Jaku has an interest in me that I have been able to use to my father’s advantage. I wish only to help. I am only another source of information and what I have to say he can weigh as he does every other report he receives. Presented as information only I’m sure he will not take offense.

  By the time feeling had began to come back into her body, Nishima had decided to wait a few more days and hope that Kitsura would receive a message from her family. It was slim evidence, but it would strengthen her argument at least somewhat. She could also fall back on a ploy of her youth: go see her father and test his mood before proceeding.

  * * *

  Shuyun waited with his usual ease. It was early morning, just barely light, but it often seemed to the monk that Lord Shonto slept as little as the Botahist trained. He had been summoned to his lord’s chambers by a half-awake servant—the First Moon Festival of the previous night had taken its toll on the palace staff.

&
nbsp; Despite the calm that he displayed, Shuyun was anxious to complete his meeting with his liege-lord so that he would be free to attend to another matter: Lord Komawara had not been seen since the incident with the young Toshaki lord the night before.

  A guard entered the room and bowed to Shuyun. Lord Shonto would speak with him.

  The Imperial Governor of the Province of Seh sat upon a cushion this morning, not a dais, and he seemed absorbed in peeling a piece of fruit. He nodded in return to Shuyun’s bow and bobbed his head toward a second cushion.

  To Shonto’s left a second table stood, a lacquered chopstick embedded vertically in the top.

  “I begin to wonder if this is an odd dislike of tables, Brother Shuyun,” Shonto said as he worked at his fruit. The lord turned his head to regard his Spiritual Advisor and raised an eyebrow before returning to his task.

  Shuyun gave a half bow. “I was concerned that Lord Komawara would injure or perhaps kill the son of a man you would hope for an ally, Lord Shonto.”

  “Huh.” Shonto nodded. “Lord Komawara should not need to be restrained in such circumstances. Toshaki was very insulting?”

  “According to my understanding of the ways of Seh he could hardly have offered more offense, Sire.”

  Shonto finished peeling and began to break the fruit into pieces. “It is not likely that Yoshihira would have behaved so if he had thought his father was planning to come to us.” He popped a piece into his mouth and chewed with some concentration, eyes closed. “It is hard to know which of the two was more foolish.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “Ah, well, youth will find foolishness in the house of wisdom. Perhaps, in the future, it might be possible to find some less conspicuous way to deal with such a situation?”

  Shuyun bowed. “I apologize for acting in this manner.”

  Shonto waved his hand. “I regret not witnessing it more than I am concerned for the effects on young Toshaki’s reputation.”

  “I could demonstrate this as we speak, Sire, if you wish.”