The Initiate Brother Duology

by Russell, Sean

  She shrugged, offering no explanation. “May I ask what led you to be in the pass before the snows had melted?”

  “We were attempting to make our way to Chiba, the province on the western side of the mountains.”

  Alinka-sa did not hide her look of displeasure at this answer. A few seconds of silence followed and then Shokan went on.

  “There are events in the Empire that led us to attempt this crossing of the mountains too early. There is a war beginning or perhaps it has already begun. It will take place beyond the mountains.” He nodded west.

  Silence followed while this was considered. Unlike the rest of her people, there was no sense of lightness in Alinka-sa. Hers seemed a personality devoid of humor or joy.

  “Why does the Emperor allow the army of the Alatan, the desert tribes, to move south on the canal?”

  “It is a long story, Alinka-sa.”

  She looked at him sharply. “Perhaps there are things even a lord of Wa does not understand. The Shonto name is ancient and honored, but my people saved you and all of your company: your debt is great, Shokan-li. How it will be paid is yet to be decided. What part you play in the events of the world will become part of the decision.”

  “You will not allow us to continue through the mountains?” Shokan did not hide his shock as well as he hoped.

  “What will become of you, Shokan-li, has not been decided. The world beyond our valley is large. Some play parts larger than others. Perhaps you should pass through the mountains to the battle beyond. But it is also possible that you should stay with us, preserving the Shonto House through a time of great turmoil. This cannot be decided easily.”

  Shokan nodded. “You are a Seer, then?” It might explain why Quinta-la and the children were afraid of her.

  “I do not understand this word,” she said bluntly.

  Questioning an elder, the lord was beginning to suspect, was not acceptable. “The situation in the Empire, Alinka-sa, is difficult to explain and much that I would tell you is conjecture only.” He took a long breath. “It began this summer past when my father was appointed Imperial Governor of the province of Seh….”

  There seemed to be nothing else to do, so Shokan began the tale. Slowly at first, and then the words began to flow more easily. He told her of the Emperor’s plot and what he thought it meant, the coins Tanaka had found, his own time in Seh. The sun had traveled a good distance across the sky before he was done. During the entire telling, Alinka-sa did not ask a single question. Occasionally her eyebrows would rise or she would give the dwellers’ nod of the head, but she never interrupted Shokan’s story.

  Even when he finally finished, the old woman did not speak but stared off across the green valley floor.

  “The tree with the fan-leaf, what is it called?” she asked suddenly.

  “Ginkyo?”

  She nodded. “Alinka means ginkyo in my tongue. This tree does not grow in the mountains and is something of a legend among my people. They believe that the leaves are quite large and that the ladies of Wa simply pluck a leaf from the tree whenever they need a fan. Though I often told my people the truth of this, after some discussion they decided that, in this matter, I was not well informed.” She gave the tiniest smile. “My mother was like you—she became lost in the mountains and was saved by the people of this village. When my father died, my mother went back to Itsa and we lived for some time in Wa before returning here.”

  She looked over at Shokan, meeting his gaze. “For this reason I know your language and something of your ways, strange as they are to us. Some of your story was known to me, though much was new. Great tragedy is about to shake Wa and this saddens me.” Alinka-sa looked away again.

  “Tell me of this monk who serves your father,” she said, not looking at Shokan.

  The lord hesitated before speaking. “The people who brought us here used his name often—Shuyun. Why was that.”

  Obviously controlling her annoyance Alinka-sa answered. “Shu-yung, it is a word in our language: it means bearer, those who carry. To the ear of an outsider the word meaning to bear would be indistinguishable from the word meaning bearer. Tell me of him.”

  “I have never met Brother Shuyun, in truth. It is said that he is very advanced in the skills of the Botahist monks. Both my father and my sister have written of him in very flattering terms. That is all I know.”

  She nodded. “My people will guide you through the mountains. You will leave at sunrise.” Alinka-sa rose to her feet with an ease that one would not expect in one so aged. Standing, she was eye to eye with the young lord.

  “But why have you decided this? I am grateful, certainly but what has made your decision?”

  Very gently she reached out and touched his cheek. “Quinta-la will accompany you to the lowlands. May Botahara go with you.” She turned and crossed the terrace, disappearing down the steps.

  Forty-five

  THE SKY WAS as confused as a lover’s heart. Clouds torn and buffeted by conflicting winds rolled overhead, moving against a background of higher clouds, striated like sand revealed by the tide.

  It had rained earlier that day and threatened to do so again. The wind was steady from the east though it had blown from every point of the compass that morning, making the rivermen curse under their breaths.

  Shuyun knelt before his liege-lord, waiting. They sat on the deck of Lord Shonto’s barge which was moving south at its best speed. Dipping his brush in ink, Lord Shonto added three characters to the letter and then waved for his secretary who had servants remove the writing table and all of its contents. Turning to his Spiritual Advisor, the lord smiled.

  “You have heard the news of Lord Komawara, Shuyun-sum?”

  “I have, Sire. Botahara protects us.”

  Shonto nodded. “It is good that He does. Perhaps you do not know that Rohku Saicha has returned to us also, though his losses were even more severe than those of Lord Komawara and General Jaku.” Shonto hesitated and his face showed a trace of the strain he no doubt felt.

  “The Khan has done the correct thing. Driving us south will give him the possibility of food by summer. If he is wise enough to put the peasants he captures to work rather than to the sword, his army will not starve.” Shonto pulled an armrest closer. “This smaller barbarian army will soon be beyond assistance from the larger army…. If our own force were not so small, it would be an opportunity.” He fell silent, lost in the great game of gii that he played.

  Shuyun sat quietly waiting. The monk was aware that he felt a growing sense of disquiet as he sat before his liege-lord—the father of the woman with whom he had so recently spent the night. Not that Nishima was not of an age to make her own decisions in such matters, but Shuyun could not believe that Lord Shonto would be pleased by such an alliance.

  I am torn in every direction, the monk thought. There was a part of him that felt closer to Shonto and the lord’s purposes as he moved further from the faith of his own Order. As though the concerns of the world became more real as the ways of the spirit became more confusing. Yet he was a Botahist monk still and he had spent the night in the embrace of his liege-lord’s daughter—certainly an act that would shock anyone who lived in the Empire of Wa. Although Shonto did not pry into Lady Nishima’s affairs unduly, was it possible that the lord was unaware of what was taking place? Shuyun thought it unlikely and thus the discomfort.

  Shonto focused on his Spiritual Advisor suddenly. “You have a report for me, Shuyun-sum?”

  The monk nodded, pushing his feelings into one corner of his being. “It appears that we have isolated the plague for now, Sire, though I think we will see other cases yet. The refugees are frightened, but this has resulted in them moving south more quickly—a good thing. We have placed the barge for the sick at the front of the fleet and it flies a plague banner. All the Imperial Guards in the Empire could not clear the canal more quickly than the sight of that terrible flag. There has been only one more death, may Botahara protect her soul.” The monk mad
e a sign. “I pray that the situation does not grow worse, Sire. Brother Sotura is a man of great skill—he has the present situation well in hand.”

  Shonto nodded. “I wish to be kept informed of this matter. If plague finds root in our army, it will not matter if the Khan is followed by one man or one hundred thousand—our army will be reduced to ghosts.” Shonto waved at the mouth of a small creek hung with willows. “Master Myochin will no doubt hear of our approach. He will not be pleased at the prospect of leaving his home.” Shonto shook his head. “We all hope for peace in our old age…. It will be some time before we see peace again, Shuyun-sum. Even if this Khan can defeat the armies of Wa, holding the Empire will be another matter entirely. Children born today may find their way into this war before it is over, though I pray it will not be so.”

  Forty-six

  THE STONE SHIP appeared to float in its own reflection in the middle of the Lake of the Autumn Crane on the western edge of the Imperial Palace. It was largely carved of marble though jade had also been employed by the ancient artisans—uncommon materials for a ship. In truth, it was no boat at all but a small island of stone blocks carved to form an elaborate, somewhat fantastic ship though to a small scale.

  Over the centuries the Stone Ship had been the favorite retreat of many an Emperor or Empress and had only fallen into disfavor with the recent dynasty. It remained, however, an ideal place to find peace and to carry on conversations that one did not want overheard. Perhaps it was this that had brought the Emperor out to the Stone Ship.

  An awning of spring green had been spread for the Son of Heaven and he sat on silk cushions attended by only a single secretary who stood on the bow, signaling the shore for anything Akantsu requested, occasionally scurrying back to the stern at a nod from the Emperor. So that the Son of Heaven could spend a few hours in this blessed isolation an entire retinue of officials and servants and secretaries waited on the shore, kneeling patiently—only the most senior members involved in conversation. To maintain this company a kitchen had been constructed behind a screen of willow trees, and runners stood ready to hurry to the palace to retrieve anything or anyone the Emperor might request.

  Swallows and kingfishers crossed the lake, weaving intricate patterns, and ducks cut vees into its calm surface. Jaku Tadamoto watched three swallows chasing a downy white feather, one picking it out of the air and rushing off, then dropping it for the others to dive at. This may have been a struggle for possession of nest material, but it looked for all the world like a game, and the acrobatics of the players were impressive.

  Tadamoto was being sculled across the Lake of the Autumn Crane’s calm waters in one of the elegant craft used by officials of the Island Palace. As was often the case, the young colonel came to his audience with the Emperor carrying written reports and scrolls, not all of which bore good news.

  As well as official writings Tadamoto also carried, hidden in his sleeve, a letter from Osha. It was a conciliatory letter, full of apologies for offenses she had not committed, washed in sadness, her pain tearing at his heart. They must not give up, she had written, their love would survive if only they believed it would. So he tried to believe.

  Tadamoto also tried to push this letter out of his mind as it would undoubtedly affect his ability to serve his Emperor—something that could not be allowed now that civil war was all but upon them.

  The sampan came alongside a stone dock built in the shape of the platform one found at the foot of a ship’s ladder. Tadamoto mounted the steps to the “deck” where the secretary greeted him with a low bow. Crossing to the quarterdeck on his knees, Tadamoto bowed at the foot of the stairs and waited to be acknowledged.

  The Emperor pored over a long scroll, completely absorbed. The ruler’s robe of yellow embroidered with a flight of cranes among clouds created a disturbing contrast. Although his garb was perfectly appropriate for the season—light of spirit—the Emperor’s face was drawn and pale like that of a man who had not known a night of peace in many, many days. Tadamoto kept his eyes cast down, concentrating on the wood-grain that had been carved into the planks of the stone deck.

  Letting his arms drop, the Emperor laid the scroll across his legs. “Colonel.”

  Tadamoto bowed again.

  “Let us begin with your news. My patience has worn away to nothing and pleasantries have become most unpleasant. What do we know today?”

  Tadamoto unrolled a small scroll—notes for this audience. “Shonto’s flotilla is three days north of Denji Gorge, Sire, and has increased its speed considerably in the last few days. The first refugees have crossed the border of our own province and they will begin to arrive in the capital in numbers within a few days. I have detailed officials and guards to deal with this influx.

  “Our own army has reached twenty-five thousand in number, Sire, and will be thirty thousand before the next moon.” Tadamoto lowered the scroll. “I have reports here, Emperor, if you wish to read them.” He tapped the pile of rolled paper. “I estimate that Lord Shonto could be within the border of Dentou within fourteen days if he continues to travel at his present speed. There has been a report that Shonto’s fleet is preceded by a barge flying the plague banner. This report has not been substantiated and even if it proves true it would appear to be a ruse to keep the canal open before Shonto’s fleet. Nonetheless the rumor precedes the flotilla like a bow wave.”

  The Emperor shook his head. “Shonto would think of such a thing. It is entirely without honor but effective, no doubt.” The Emperor lifted the scroll he had been reading. “I have received my own reports. Prince Wakaro has sent this, a complete report of the military situation prepared by Shonto’s staff. My son claims to have seen a barbarian army of one hundred thousand and it is accompanied by a letter written by the captain of the Prince’s guard—a man we selected together, Colonel. He, too, claims to have seen this army.” The Emperor set the scroll aside. “My son is not a warrior and easily duped, but from the captain of his guard I expected more. It is most curious.”

  Tadamoto nodded. “Excuse me, Sire….”

  “Speak, Colonel, this is no time to be shy.”

  “At your suggestion, I sent the most reliable men I have north to assess this situation. According to their count—they saw the barbarian army with their own eyes—the force pursuing Shonto is no more than thirty thousand and perhaps less. Shonto’s own army appears to number between twenty and twenty-five thousand, a significant number of these being Imperial Guards. Alongside the shinta blossom fly the banners of both Prince Wakaro and my brother Katta. It grieves me to bring you this news, Emperor.”

  The Emperor looked toward the white walls of the Island Palace as though he meditated upon their form. But his breathing did not exhibit the controlled rhythm of meditation and his hands would not lie still on his knees. “Betrayed,” the Emperor almost whispered, “betrayed by my own son and by the man I treated as a son.” Picking up his sword, he laid it gently across his knees. “Is this army in league with Motoru, do you think?”

  “My own men believe there have been real battles with the barbarians though reports that Lord Shonto scorched the earth as he passed south appear to be unfounded. They saw no evidence of this. So it seems unlikely. There truly is a barbarian invasion but not the hordes some would like us to believe.”

  “Two invading armies, one on the heels of the other.” The Emperor toyed with his sword. “Betrayed by my own son,” he said again, his voice filled with disbelief and pain.

  The son you sent north to share in the fate of Lord Shonto, Tadamoto thought.

  Forty-seven

  THE BARGES ALMOST never stopped now and though it meant the countryside was left untouched by the devastation formerly wrought upon it, it also meant that Shimeko could not get off the boat to walk on the bank. This made it very easy to avoid Sister Morima and all of the influences from her former life. But she was shut up on the ship among people who were very different from her—the three ladies from the capital and their attendan
ts. It was difficult for her.

  The Plum Blossom Winds filled the air with clouds of petals from the plum groves planted along the canal. When a gust came, standing on the deck of the boat was like being in a warm snowstorm, so thick were the petals in the air. The canal was almost a white waterway and the decks of the ships were constantly needing to be swept clear, for a rain shower would render a petal-covered deck dangerously slick.

  Shimeko had given up brushing the petals from her robe despite the fact that on the deep blue they were very apparent. The robe had been a gift from Lady Nishima, one of the lady’s own, no doubt, and though it was a cast-off it had obviously been worn infrequently for the silk was as new as the day it had come from the loom. Having seen the size of Lady Nishima’s wardrobe, Shimeko was not surprised that signs of wear would not be found on the lady’s clothing—and Lady Nishima often complained that she had left the capital with hardly anything to wear!

  Shimeko smiled. Such a statement would have offended the former nun only a few weeks before, but now it only made her shake her head and laugh. The Lady Nishima Fanisan Shonto was difficult to dislike and, despite having been raised in the greatest luxury, could not be said to have been spoiled by it. She was a Lady of a Great House, there was no doubt, but Lady Nishima was a person of substance and accomplishment and depth. Shimeko could not dislike her.

  Shimeko turned away from the rail, leaning there with the breeze at her back. Pulling her shawl down onto her shoulders, she enjoyed the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair; though it was still short by the standards of lay-women, it was longer than Shimeko had ever known it.

  The decision Shimeko made was a difficult one. Although she had found Lady Nishima admirable in many ways, there was this other matter which the former nun found very disturbing. Shimeko was almost certain that Lady Nishima had more than once spent the entire night alone with Brother Shuyun.