The Initiate Brother Duology

by Russell, Sean

  “And so have we, my lady. You do not know how many refugees have died on the roads and the canal.” Shuyun took her hand and pressed it to his heart. She felt the warmth, the tingle of chi. “When the barbarians reach the capital tomorrow, I could walk out to meet them under a flag of peace. I would offer them an exchange. My Order will save them from the plague if they will lay down their arms. Thousands of lives might be saved.”

  Nishima propped herself up on one arm. The people of the capital—the plague would ravage the city, while she escaped. But save invaders? No one would agree to this. She looked out the half open screen, and saw the flicker of the barbarians’ pyre, far out on the plain.

  Did not Botahara teach compassion? she asked herself. “Is it possible, Shuyun-sum? Will this Khan believe you?” She rolled back, staring up at the ceiling, her hand to her brow. “If not, you would be in great danger.” Her mind raced through the possibilities now. “Will the Botahist Brothers perform this task? The barbarians are not followers of the True Path.”

  “Few are, Nishima-sum.” Shuyun pushed her hair back behind her ear. “The Brothers will agree reluctantly. It saddens me to say this, but I believe it is more likely that the barbarians will listen than it is that the lords of Wa will agree to this course.”

  “But it is our only hope,” Nishima said, convinced now that Shuyun was right. “Tens of thousands could be saved—barbarians and people of Wa alike. The lords of Wa must be convinced.”

  “They will not be. Their hatred of the barbarians is unreachable. Tell them that plague is about to sweep the barbarian army from the Empire and they will not care how many people of Wa will have to die so that this will occur. Sacrifice is their way. To suggest we save the invaders—they will not allow it.”

  Nishima rolled so that she pressed her cheek close to Shuyun’s. “You make my choice difficult,” she whispered in his ear.

  An act of bravery, he had told her. There had been so many already.

  “Shuyun-sum, tell me truthfully—if an Empress commands that this be done, will the lords of Wa obey?”

  Shuyun considered for a moment. “Lord Taiki, General Hojo, and your brother control the army. No others have an organized force. Will these three obey a command from the Empress they have placed on the throne? I believe they will, Lady Nishima, though I fear it is not the answer you wish to hear.”

  Nishima closed her eyes for some time, breathing as Brother Satake had taught her. Oh, father, it is my greatest fear. You ask me to overcome my greatest fear. She felt her heart beating and forced it to calm. Thousands of lives she told herself, balanced against my own desires and fears.

  Opening her eyes she whispered to the room. “If Hojo and Shokan-sum will agree to your plan, I will ascend the throne though my entire life I have vowed I would not.”

  She felt Shuyun draw her close. Pressing her eyes closed she said a silent prayer, though it was not to any god. Nishima spoke to Lord Shonto, praying she had chosen correctly. May this be the act of bravery, she thought, and not an act of foolishness.

  She whispered close to Shuyun’s ear. “What name will I take if I am to ascend the Throne of Wa?”

  Shuyun drew her closer and said, “Shigei.”

  “I do not know that name.”

  “It is from the mountain tongue, as is my name. Shuyun—he who bears. Shigei—she who renews. It is the name of a mountain spirit. It is also the name given to fair spring winds and to the scent of new budding leaves. She who renews. Empress Shigei.”

  Nishima nodded slowly. “I will need the wisdom of your counsel.”

  “You will have the wisest of counselors, my Empress,” he whispered. “You will rule with your heart as well as your reason and your subjects will come to love you as they have few others.”

  The lamp flickered out and they lay still in the darkness until the gray light of dawn appeared through the half-open screens.

  Sixty-one

  The sunrise filtered through a long tear in the cloud, somewhere far out over the unseen sea. Among the weeping birch trees on the edge of the Pool of the Sun the Shonto guard had built the pyre. The sound of the three small falls that crossed the pond mixed with the breeze moving through the new leaves and made Nishima think of her father’s private garden.

  Under the silk banner that he had borne into battle, Lord Shonto Motoru lay hidden from the eyes of those who cared for him. To one side Kamu stood holding the lord’s favorite stallion, a sword strapped to the saddle— the same sword the Emperor had given the lord in this very garden.

  The death of his ancestor, Shokan had said, an honorable death.

  Brother Shuyun completed a long prayer, and all present made signs to Botahara. Nishima felt Shokan release her hand as he stepped forward, a surcoat of pure white over his Shonto blue catching the light of the sun.

  Removing a tiny ornate scroll from his sleeve he paused to find his voice.

  Through a long winter we have awaited

  The rebirth of spring.

  During the cold nights

  We dreamed

  Of the plum tree’s blossom

  Along the shore of an endless canal

  Cranes stand among rushes

  So still

  The harmony of their world

  Is left untouched

  The boat passes,

  White against blue waters,

  Its wake causing birds to fly

  Rising up among blossom laden trees

  Passing on the breeze, the boat

  Follows the ribbon of blue,

  As narrow and perfect

  As the river among the clouds

  Shokan and Lord Komawara had begun this poem during a sleepless night and Nishima had completed it that morning—many others would follow.

  Stillness and quiet descended as all present offered their silent prayers. Nishima looked around. The more important lords of Wa, those who had not fled the capital, were present, as were the lords who had followed her father south from Seh. The senior officials of the palace were present; chancellors, ministers, and sundry advisors had come to pay respects to the Emperor’s most powerful lord—the man who had given his life in an attempt to save Wa. Lord Komawara stood beside a recovered Lord Butto, the two so grim that it hurt Nishima to look at them.

  She made herself breathe in careful rhythm, for her part of the ceremony was yet to come. Conscious of her new role, Nishima was determined to conduct herself accordingly though certain this would be the most difficult thing she had ever done.

  At a nod from Shuyun she stepped forward, and a bowing attendant passed her a small torch, its flame guttering in the breeze. She closed her eyes for a second, certain she would be overcome by the odors of the burning oil. I release his spirit from this world, she reminded herself. She bowed low, holding back the sleeve of her white robe, and touched the torch to the pyre. At first nothing seemed to occur, but then the lamp oil caught and the flames rose up, spreading both left and right with a sound like a giant wing beating the air.

  She stepped back then and tossed the torch into the flame. As the silk banner caught, she closed her eyes.

  “Lady Nishima,” the attendant said softly.

  She turned and took the handful of white plum petals she was offered and these she tossed onto the flaming pyre where the rising heat took them and scattered them on the wind.

  The fire crackled and roared now, too hot to be near. The mourners stepped back then and she felt Shokan take her arm. Space opened up around them and Nishima felt the distance despite the presence of her brother. Isolation, she thought, a life of isolation. Only that morning her decision had been made known and already she was set apart.

  I cannot turn back, she told herself. Tens of thousands of lives depend on the strength of my resolve.

  But Shokan and Hojo and Lord Taiki had agreed to support Shuyun’s plan though they argued against it strongly. In the end they had decided that having Nishima as an Empress was more important. Then had come her first te
st. She discovered that the lords of Wa and the senior Ministers of the Right and Left had already selected a name for the new Empress. A name from another tongue was not acceptable, they explained; there were traditions.

  Nishima had been forced to be utterly firm with them—she would ascend the throne as the Empress Shigei. Their choice was to offer the throne to someone else. They had acquiesced: a name was an important thing, no doubt, but there were certainly other matters of greater consequence.

  Once she had ascended the throne, Nishima thought, this tactic would no longer be possible. There would be many more such battles of wills, Nishima thought, many, many more. Fighting them when all she felt was a need to be alone, to have time and peace to heal the wound inside her—that would be the challenge. It would be so easy to give in, but she must not. She would be an Empress and that meant she would not let ambitious counselors gain control of the government.

  They ascended a flight of steps and attendants waited there with a sedan chair. Nishima looked at this with dismay.

  “I will walk,” she said firmly.

  “But, Empress,” the Minister of the Right said in his most pleasant voice, “it is unseemly for a member of the Imperial family to walk.”

  “I am not yet an Empress nor a member of the Imperial family. I am Shonto. I will walk.”

  Tugging Shokan’s arm she skirted the sedan chair and ascended the next stairs as quickly as decorum would allow. The sound of the funeral pyre could still be heard and as they reached the palace doors she turned to look back. White smoke rose in a high column from the shore of the glittering pond and she thought of her father lifting up to soar among the clouds.

  Movement caught her eye beyond the fire. It was the barbarian army gathering beyond the city walls. Botahara save us all, she thought.

  * * *

  It was the shortest and least elaborate investiture in the history of the Empire of Wa. Ceremonial meals were reduced to a few dishes being arranged to symbolize an entire part of a ceremony. Elaborate rituals involving the Imperial Governors of the Empire’s nine provinces were not performed, for there was not a single governor in the capital. Swearing of oaths by lords and officials and the giving of gifts and favors and ranks—all of these things were left to another time—all present hoping there would be such a time. Only the short, final ceremony was to be performed and this was a great relief to the Empress-to-be.

  Nishima was borne to the doors of the Great Audience Hall in the sedan chair she had rejected earlier and here she was allowed to step down to a carpet that stretched the length of hall to the steps of the Dragon Throne.

  To each side of this knelt the counselors and senior officials and behind these men, instead of the ceremonial guard, stood men in Shonto blue. In truth, many of the members of the Great Council and of the guard had fled the city and those remaining had been forced to make do as best they could. The Major Chancellor, the second most powerful person in the Empire, had escaped some days earlier. To the dismay of the court Nishima had appointed Kamu to this position temporarily. He knelt at the foot of the steps to the dais, his ceremonial robes spreading out around him like a fan, the gold scroll of his office held in his only hand.

  As Nishima entered, the assembled officials bowed their heads to the stone and remained there for some moments. A slow chant of great beauty began as the new Empress slowly progressed the length of the hall, the Ministers of the Right and Left following three paces behind on their knees.

  Walk beside me, father, Nishima prayed, I have not the courage. She felt as though her spirit had wrenched itself free and she both walked on the carpeted floor and floated up to the heights of the hall, watching herself as she progressed, a small uncertain child in the immense hall.

  Do not let my spirit escape, she prayed, not yet.

  Shokan knelt with his forehead pressed to the stone at the end of the first row of officials and this touched some part of her and called her spirit back, for with his face hidden, Shokan looked for all the world like his father. Her father’s presence seemed to be there and this gave her strength.

  Before the throne a silk cushion had been set and the Ministers of the Right and Left assisted her in kneeling here and then retreated to their places. Nishima’s robes spread out around her, Imperial Crimson bearing the five-clawed, golden dragon. At her insistence a tiny shinta blossom had been embroidered on her right sleeve, the flower of the warisha on her left. Kamu knelt three paces off, his head touched to the floor. Nishima bowed to her ancestors on the empty throne.

  The chant continued, rising in volume, reverberating in the great hall. The Minister of the Right came forward and laid the sword of office across the arms of the throne and retreated. An ancient bronze gong was brought forward by the Minister of the Left and this was set at the foot of the throne to one side.

  There were no words to be spoken by the ascending sovereign—far too many Emperors had been children barely out of the cradle—but the Major Chancellor rose to a kneeling position and recited the sovereign’s oath of office. Kamu’s voice gained strength and authority with each phrase.

  “It is the duty of the Empress to care for her children, the people of the Empire of Wa, to care for the lands and the forests and the waterways. In time of famine the Empress will give food to her charges; in time of war, provide shelter and restore peace to the people who are the children of the Empress. In gratitude the subjects of the Empress will attend each to their duties, giving their loyalty only to the sovereign of Wa. May Botahara bless the most revered Empress, Shigei, of the Imperial line of the Fanisan House.”

  The courtiers rose to their knees, making a sign to Botahara. As the chant came to an end, Nishima bowed once more to the throne. She was to rise and take her place now, but she could not will her legs to move.

  This is wrong, Nishima thought. What is it I do? She could not get up.

  Kamu opened his mouth to whisper. She saw “Nishima” begin to form on his lips, but he stopped himself. She looked over at him, imploring him to help, and he could only stare back, unable to speak or move.

  There was utter silence in the hall then, all eyes turned toward her. The carved dragon that curved around the back of the throne seemed also to stare.

  I must, Nishima said, I must.

  Willing herself to rise, Nishima found her feet under her and, with great deliberation, placed a foot upon the first jade step and then the second and finally the third. Two steps to the throne. She lifted the sword of office with both hands and turned to face her court. Stiffly she lowered herself to the cushion on the jade throne. The Great Council of State knelt before her, each official reflected in the polished stone of the floor.

  And now I must rule, Nishima thought, and the realization was like waking in a cold room. The warmth of the dream she had lived had vanished and her feelings seemed distant, confused.

  As one, the entire assemblage bowed again and then rose to the kneeling position. Kamu took the place of the Major Chancellor on the first step and reached over and sounded the bronze gong. It was not loud in the massive hall, but in seconds it was answered by all the bells on the grounds of the Island Palace and this in turn was echoed by the bells of the city, the bell-keepers having been found or replaced.

  It was a sound of great hope and joy and as she looked down the Empress saw tears on the cheeks of the old Shonto steward. No sound could be heard above the great din of the bells, but Nishima could see that he cried freely like an unashamed child and the new Empress felt a tear streak her own cheek in response.

  The ringing of bells seemed to be endless, and Nishima sat attempting an appearance of tranquillity. At last the bells ceased and Nishima took a long breath and nodded to Kamu.

  He raised himself up as though the increase in height would project his voice farther. “The Empress requests the presence of the following that we may discuss a solution to the problem of the barbarian army gathering beyond the capital’s gate.”

  The assembled officials lo
oked stunned, but they did not understand the meaning of this and so sat, casting glances to their allies in the hall.

  Kamu read a long list including General Hojo, the Lords Butto, Taiki, Komawara, most of the senior lords of Wa who remained in the city, and Initiate Brother Shuyun.

  All of those listed filed in through side doors, approaching the dais on their knees and bowing low to their Empress. Lord Komawara and Lord Butto had just come from the city walls and wore armor still, their helmets tucked under one arm.

  Nishima nodded again and Kamu turned to the gathering.

  “Due to the machinations of the late Yamaku Emperor, a barbarian army sits beyond our walls, their intention being to place their own chieftain upon the Throne of Wa. The Empress will hear the advice of her counselors regarding this matter.” To the dismay of the gathered officials, Kamu turned to the Botahist monk. “It is the wish of the Empress that the Spiritual Advisor of Lord Shonto Shokan, Brother Shuyun, make his thoughts known.” Kamu nodded to Shuyun.

  Performing his double bow, first to the Empress and then to the gathered officials and guests, Shuyun sat back, his hands together as though he would meditate.

  “Empress,” he said, his soft voice surprisingly calm in the hall full of unspoken tension and emotion. “Honored ministers. I have learned that the plague has begun to spread among the army of the Khan. The great fire seen on the fields in the night was an attempt to cleanse the barbarian army of this disease, but plague is among them and cannot be cured with fire.”

  Everyone present leaned forward to listen now and Nishima heard the word “plague” whispered down the length of the hall. The reaction of the council was obvious—relief, elation, joy. Many made signs to Botahara.

  Shuyun continued. “It is my recommendation, Empress, that we send emissaries to the Khan bearing an offer to bring Botahist Brothers to heal the barbarians, if, in return, the invading army will lay down its arms. Only this will prevent the plague from being spread among the people of the capital.”

  The reaction was not so controlled this time. Nishima heard voices of protest. She looked down at Hojo and the other Shonto allies. They sat in stolid silence. Now you must keep your word, she thought, or we are lost. Shuyun had been right—they would prefer to see any number dead if it would mean the destruction of their enemies.