She took both his hands again. “There is no Lady Nishima present and all Spiritual Advisors are henceforth banned from my chambers. You, Shuyun-sum, are welcomed.”
He followed as she gently pulled until he was in the hastily made bed. She joined him, pulling the quilt over them both. Taking his hands between her own she said, “The object of tonight’s lesson is to attain a state of tranquillity in the presence of a woman.” She reached out and squeezed the muscle in his shoulder which was a knot of tension. “You must begin by relaxation of the muscles. You do know how to do this?”
He nodded.
“Begin,” she instructed and felt him control his breathing, sinking into a meditative state. After a few moments she pushed herself into his arms again. She was wearing only a single robe of the thinnest silk and when Nishima came close to him she felt the tension return. “Do not let my presence destroy your tranquillity, Shuyun-sum,” she whispered in his ear. “I intend to let your presence enhance my tranquillity.” She took a long deep breath and released it like a shudder. “Your arms are around me, but your hands float in the air. You cannot possibly be relaxed like this…That is better.”
They lay close in the dark for a long time, neither speaking nor moving. Then Shuyun felt soft lips kiss his neck and Nishima whispered in his ear, her words as soft as a sigh.
“We come soon to the Faceless Lovers.”
He nodded.
“Lord Botahara knew women?”
He nodded again, more slowly.
“And yet he attained perfection…. Meditate upon that if you will not sleep.” She kissed his neck again, then he felt her breathe herself to sleep.
Shuyun lay awake for some time thinking of the image carved into the wall of Denji Gorge and then he, too, forced himself into sleep.
Later Nishima awoke, feeling Shuyun’s warmth close to her. They were of a size in height, but the years of training had given his muscles a tone that could not be equaled and yet he did not have the massive physique of the kick boxers she had seen. She turned carefully, trying not to wake him but was unsuccessful. Gently pushing her back into his chest, she felt him stir.
“Shh, sleep,” she whispered. She took his hand in the dark and kissed it softly. Holding it for a moment as though making a decision, she guided his hand through her open robe to her breast then held it there firmly. Stifling a small moan, she began a breathing exercise. That is enough for this lesson, she thought, I will certainly frighten him away. Thinking this she pressed his hand tighter. The burbling of the boat passing through calm water was like the music of delight itself, joyous, irrepressible.
When the watch changed, Nishima awoke again, warm, languid. Shuyun’s hand still caressed her breast and she felt her entire body flash with heat, her breathing became urgent. She started to control this but then felt Shuyun wake in response to her own state. His hand moved on her breast and she turned toward him, shrugging her arm out of the sleeve of her robe.
Pushing as close to him as was humanly possible, she began kissing his neck, then his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. He reacted by pulling her closer, so close that she could not move.
“Nishi-sum…I cannot….” He started to pull away, but she would not release him.
“No, Shuyun-sum, please…stay a while. I will feel I have acted terribly if you go. I will never forgive myself.”
He stopped trying to pull away and they lay rocking each other gently until both found their breath again. Nishima made no attempt to replace her robe but lay in the circle of Shuyun’s warmth.
He ran his fingers slowly up her spine and she found herself focusing on this touch as if nothing else in the world mattered. Heat seemed to radiate from his hand. Slowly his fingers went down her back and she willed him not to stop. Pushing his palm flat against the base of her spine, she felt the chi flow, like a glowing warmth, like a tiny branch of lightning.
And then the chi flowed out from his hand and Nishima felt it touch the center of her desire. She could not catch her breath. She smothered a moan, fighting not to let him know what she was feeling. As though it had a will of its own, she felt her body push closer to Shuyun’s. The lightning branched from his hand.
Burying her face in Shuyun’s chest Nishima moaned uncontrollably. She began to convulse, his hand almost unbearably hot on her back. Shuddering for what seemed like moments on end Nishima finally lay, unmoving, in Shuyun’s arms.
Botahara save me, she thought, did he feel nothing? Could I have felt the skies open while he felt nothing?
* * *
Before the darkness disappeared, Shuyun slipped out onto the deck, finding himself a place to sit among the cargo. He had left Nishima sleeping, using his Botahist training to move silently. And now the cold air and infinite night were an almost painful contrast to the warmth of Nishima’s cabin, the warmth of her presence.
Shuyun began a silent prayer for forgiveness but lost the thread of it almost immediately. What is to become of me? he wondered. For what I have done I should be stripped of my sash and pendant and turned out of my Order. He brought a lifetime of training to bear on the chaos he felt within, but the turmoil resisted the attempt to impose order.
Shuyun sat as though in meditation, but in fact his mind was filled with an image of the Lovers in Denji Gorge—features beginning to appear on the two faces. This was mixed with a strong memory of Nishima in his arms, lost in a pleasure so overwhelming that it was like a moment of great discovery.
Twenty-nine
IN THE MIDST of the vast sprawl of the barbarian encampment a single plum tree had blossomed, appearing like a lone act of defiance, a statement poetic in its purity. The cloud of white blossoms floated just above the tents and teaming thousands as though the land itself had unfurled its standard.
It was early morning on the second day of the siege of Rhojo-ma, though not an arrow had been loosed nor a sword drawn other than to test its edge. A fast boat sailed along the lake’s northern shore out of range of barbarian bows. Toshaki Shinga wished he were in that boat himself. He desperately wanted to look into the faces of his enemy, see them for what they were, though he could not explain this impulse.
The barbarian rafts lined the shore and the men of Seh waited. The wind was not terribly strong, but it would gather its reserves intermittently and send a great gust down the lake and this might be what was stopping the expected attack. They wait for the Plum Blossom Winds, was the phrase Toshaki heard again and again; it was said with a note of scorn.
The men who sailed along the shore had reported that there were pirates in number among the barbarian warriors. It was an indication that the barbarians were capable of better preparation than the men of Seh had wanted to believe—the second time the barbarians had been underestimated. Toshaki wondered about this Khan—where did he come from and how had he gathered so many?
A young man recently given an officer’s rank appeared at the top of the stairs to the tower from which Toshaki observed the plain. He bowed quickly.
“Lord Ranan reports that the fleet is in readiness, Sire.”
Toshaki nodded. “We must be patient. The barbarians gather their nerve slowly.” Looking back out at the enemy’s army, Toshaki said, “The signals are understood.”
“They are, General.”
“Good.” He nodded a dismissal, and the officer returned the way he had come.
Horsemen came and went from the barbarian camp, usually in patrols of some size. No doubt they had realized by now that the army of Seh had retreated south. And how many do they think remain in Rhojo-ma? Toshaki asked himself. The men in the city had been entirely true to their Scarecrow Army ruse and perhaps that explained some of the hesitation the barbarians were showing.
A boat set out from the shore toward the city. Toshaki had to look twice: a boat! They had found a boat that Shonto’s men had missed. A flag of truce flew from a staff at the bow and, as it approached, the general could see that it was manned by experienced oarsmen. Pirates were amon
g the barbarians, indeed. Toshaki could see their brightly colored turbans. The enemies of Wa had formed an alliance of the unholy—not a follower of the Perfect Master among them.
The city’s own boat changed its course to stand within arrow’s shot of the pirate’s craft, holding that position until they approached the walls.
Toshaki turned and yelled for an aid. A young soldier appeared immediately at the stairhead.
“Go to the signalmen,” the general snapped, “have them signal our patrol boat. If this strange craft attempts to round the city, they must take it at all costs.”
By the gods, Toshaki thought, we can’t have them seeing everything we prepare.
But the boat made no attempt to round Rhojo-ma, continuing toward the tower Toshaki had made his command position. Realizing what they did, the lord made his way down the flights of stairs to the top of the wall.
As the boat pulled closer, Toshaki could see a single man sitting in the bow not handling an oar. The lord squinted.
“That man in the bow,” Toshaki said to a young bowman standing at hand, “can you see him?”
The bowman focused for a second. “I can, Sire.”
“Is he a barbarian?”
The younger man shook his head. “He is not, Sire, nor is he a pirate. He is dressed as a man of Seh might dress.”
Toshaki took hold of the stone wall, leaning out over the water. A gust of wind pushed the bow of the boat off, and the steersman fought to put them back on course. Five strokes closer, then ten. A muttering began down the wall and progressed from man to man. Toshaki turned to his aid.
“Some say this is Lord Kintari, General.”
Toshaki turned back to the scene before him. By Botahara, it could be. The general thought Shonto had done away with the Kintari clan.
Lord Ranan appeared at his elbow followed by several other senior lords. “Lord Kintari,” Ranan said, “reincarnated as himself. May Botahara be praised.” Even Toshaki smiled at this.
“Reincarnated as a traitor, I think, Sire,” said another and there was a quiet nodding of heads.
The boat came close enough for shouted speech. The steersman turned its head to wind and the oarsmen held that position. The man in the bow stood, and if there were any still unsure of his identity the doubt was buried now.
“Lords of Seh, I come with a message from the Great Khan of the tribes.” Kintari paused as if time were needed for his words to be fully understood. His voice sounded small against the noise of the wind and the waves lapping the stone wall. Kintari was so close that Toshaki could see the man’s robe ripple in the breeze, could make out a strand of hair in a streak across Kintari’s forehead.
“He is without sword,” Ranan said quietly and Toshaki nodded.
“Your numbers are known to the Great Khan, my lords. You cannot hope to stand against the force of the tribes. What will you gain by this futile defense? Did your Yamaku Emperor send an army to protect Seh? You give up your lives for an Empire that will not even notice you have done so.” He paused again.
“The Yamaku care only for their own ascendancy. They are not Emperors of Wa—they do not govern, they divide the Empire against itself and rob from all. You will give up your lives for blood-suckers?” His voice rose on the last word, and it echoed from the buildings.
“I know you, lords of Seh. You are brave men—all of you—but your sense of duty is misplaced. The Khan has come to bring down the Yamaku, not to destroy Wa. The Khan is a man of greatness, lords—greatness the like of which we have not seen since Emperor Jirri rode upon this very plain.
“You are invited to feast with the Khan, lords. You may know for yourselves. The Yamaku have bled Seh for ten years. The Khan will bring us peace and wealth as we have never known. Those who ride with him will be great men in the Empire to be. Consider this army.” He pointed to the encampment. “Among one hundred thousand only the Khan and a handful of others are men of culture. When the Yamaku are brought down, the Khan will need men of skill and knowledge to govern the new Empire. If you are those men, how can it not be an Empire of justice and culture?
“A feast, lords, not a trap—for you have already trapped yourselves. What word shall I take back to the Great Khan?”
There was a second’s hesitation as men looked from one to another, questions in their eyes.
“Bowman,” Toshaki Shinga said quietly.
“Sire?”
“Silence that traitor.”
An arrow flashed, appearing in Kintari’s heart as though it had sprung from there. The lord did not move to clutch his pain but slowly toppled over the side like a falling tree. The pirates set to their oars in a frenzy, pulling to get beyond bow range, but no arrows fell among them.
Lord Kintari was left bobbing, facedown, in the small waves that broke the surface of the lake. The pirates’ craft, under its flag of truce, raced to the far shore where the oarsmen ran it up on the bank as though arrows were aimed at their hearts.
Toshaki looked down at the floating lord. There was silence on the wall.
“It was a better death than he deserved,” Lord Ranan said so that all might hear, “but it was the best that could be managed.” He bowed to Toshaki and nodded to the bowman, then turned and started back to his duties.
A shout echoed across the lake, as powerful as distant thunder, and Toshaki looked up to see rafts being pushed out onto the waters.
“Give the signals,” Toshaki said calmly to his aide. “It begins.”
Along the wall he saw men make signs to Botahara and then, in a warrior’s ritual, they tightened their helmet cords.
Toshaki loosened his sword in its scabbard and mounted the stairs to his tower, pulling his helmet tight as he did so. There would soon be little he could do, but he would try to give some direction to the defense while it was still possible.
There must not have been enough pirates to man all the rafts, for many were paddled by barbarians under the tutelage of screaming, gesturing pirates. On at least one raft Toshaki saw a fight underway, swords flashing.
Fools, the lord thought, come a little further.
The vast flotilla moved slowly toward Rhojo-ma, the cumbersome rafts colliding and hampering each other. Against all efforts the crosswind blew them off to the west and soon they were strung out, paddling into the wind and trying to make their way crabwise toward the walls.
Toshaki almost laughed. In an attempt to send the greatest number of men against the city, the barbarian chieftains had built too many rafts and now they became their own enemy. At least one raft had broken up, leaving terrified tribesmen clinging to the logs, armor trying to drag them under.
Boats appeared beyond the east wall of the city, towing makeshift rafts piled with shattered furniture and straw floor mats. The men of Seh were not strangers to the water and their operation was executed with a precision that would have made a naval officer proud. Positioning their craft quickly upwind of the enemy, the men of Seh fired the rafts and cut them free.
Toshaki hit the stone with his fist. The barbarians on the windward rafts saw what bore down on them and stopped paddling, which sent their craft into the rafts behind.
A gust of wind fanned the fires into hot blazes and pressed the fire rafts down on their victims. The barbarian flotilla lost all way then as men on the windward craft jumped to the rafts behind. The fire touched the first barbarian raft and flaming straw started to blow free.
Toshaki saw men in flaming clothes and men falling into the waters to slip beneath the surface with barely a struggle. The fleet blew east now, all chance of making the walls of Rhojo-ma gone.
Someone pounded up the steps behind him and an out of breath Lord Ranan appeared at his side.
“Ah, Admiral Ranan. Your squadron has done well.”
“Who thought it would become a naval battle, General?” Ranan said with obvious satisfaction. “And the men of the desert make poor sailors.” A bitter laugh forced its way out from behind his face-mask.
The r
emains of the barbarian flotilla ended up on the west shore of the lake. Most of the logs were new cut and too full of spring sap to burn, so the fire rafts did less damage than one might have hoped.
“We have given Lord Shonto the gift of another day at least,” Lord Ranan said. “May his army swell by a thousand men.”
Toshaki turned to his aide. “Order our patrol out again. I want to know everything the barbarians do.”
Ranan leaned his back to the wall and opened his face-mask. “I wonder what they will do? Is it possible they might dare this again?”
Toshaki shrugged. “We will soon have the measure of this Great Khan. If he cannot take an almost undefended city in a few days, he will be no match for Shonto Motoru. The great lord is a gii player of some fame. He will never let this upstart catch him where mere force of numbers can win the day.”
He turned back to the north. In the midst of the barbarian army the plum tree swayed and released a flurry of petals to the wind.
Thirty
THE FLOTILLA CARRYING Lord Shonto’s army south sailed by night, trailing a wake of terrible destruction. Word had spread quickly down the canal and the people of Wa fled before Shonto’s fleet as though it were the barbarian army itself. In places the canal choked with the boats of refugees and when this slowed the progress of the flotilla, soldiers were sent ahead to clear the way. Everyone in the flotilla had seen the results of this earlier in the evening. They had passed the still smoldering hulks of half a hundred craft, stranded on the canal banks.
I feel as though we follow on the heels of war, not precede it, Brother Sotura thought. He stood at the aft rail watching the following-wave pull a ribbon of moonlight along their wake. Just at dusk he had heard the sound of a flight of cranes passing over and it had saddened him in a way he could not control.
It was a night of great beauty. The Plum Blossom Wind pushed the river craft along the waterway like a gentle, guiding hand, and the scent of budding trees and opening flowers perfumed the air. In so steady a wind and a section of canal free of hidden bars, the sailors on watch had little to do. A charcoal fire smoldered amidships and the sailors cooked and brewed cha and lounged about the deck talking quietly, awaiting their turn as lookout or at the steering oar.
The Initiate Brother Duology Page 72
