by Julie Kagawa
He gave me a crooked smile. “That is a long story for another day, Yumeko-chan. Let’s just say there was a time where I fully believed in honor and duty and the code of Bushido. But that was years ago, when I was young, stupid and eager to prove myself.”
“What happened?”
“I got slapped with the cruel hand of reality,” the ronin said, smirking. “And I realized that the revered code of Bushido is nonsense. There is no honor in the world, especially among samurai. It just took my becoming a ronin to realize it.”
I blinked at the underlying bitterness in his voice, wondering what had turned him into the jaded ronin he was now. “You’ll have to tell me the story one day.”
“I will. But right now, we have bigger concerns. Like making it through the emperor’s party without being discovered as charlatans. Just remember,” he went on, gently tapping my sleeve, dangling over the veranda, with a finger, “I’m no more a yojimbo than you are an onmyoji. And pretending to be either is a death sentence should anyone find out.”
“I know,” I said. Reika had explained it, in great detail, this morning. As soon as Okame left, she had dragged me into a room, slammed the door and proceeded to lecture me about being so reckless with my lies. I was lying to Daisuke about being an onmyoji, I was lying to Okame about being a peasant, and I was lying to the Kage demonslayer about being a normal human girl. I had gotten lucky so far, she’d told me, glowering like a small furious cat. Especially when traveling with the infamous Kage demonslayer.
And tonight, she went on, we would be inside the walls of the Imperial Palace, surrounded by nobles, samurai, aristocrats and the emperor himself. Where, if it were discovered we weren’t who we claimed to be, it would mean execution for us all. This wasn’t one of my kitsune games, Reika had warned. This was quite literally life or death. So I had better start taking it seriously.
I chewed my lip. She was right. I was dragging a lot of people into this crazy, made-up story, and the lies kept stacking on top of each other. Sooner or later, that tower was going to collapse. “Are you sure you want to come with us, Okame-san?” I asked, glancing up at the ronin. “You don’t owe me anything, you know. You’re free to leave if you want to.”
“Are you kidding?” The ronin shot me his wolfish grin, eyes glinting. “Forget obligation, this is the most fun I’ve had in years. When I was a samurai, I was never important enough to be invited to the emperor’s grand parties. It’s going to be poetically ironic sauntering in there with a Taiyo, the proudest of the proud, and seeing the looks on their pinched, stuck-up faces.”
“But it’s dangerous. What happens if we’re found out?”
“The danger is what makes it fun, Yumeko-chan,” Okame said. “None of the nobles are going to ask if you’re really an onmyoji—that would be the height of discourtesy. As long as you don’t agree to tell any fortunes, divine the future or exorcise a demon, we should be fine.” He shrugged and leaned against the railing, looking carefree. “So I wouldn’t worry about it. The court monkeys will all be too busy preening, fawning over the emperor and trying to out-strut each other to pay much attention to us.”
“There will be monkeys?” I blinked in shock. “Well, that will make it entertaining, at least. But monkeys are terribly messy, won’t they be worried about that?”
“That was quite cruel, Okame-san,” said a new voice, and Taiyo Daisuke came around the corner of the building. He wore a magnificent kimono of dark blue silk, with miniature golden suns patterned over the sleeves and down the front, and he held a colorful silk fan in both hands. His long white hair had been pulled behind his head, and glimmered against the dark silk of his robes. “You shouldn’t fill Yumeko-san’s head with such lies. At least a few of them will be too busy destroying a rival’s reputation with gossip, or setting up advantageous marriages, to be doing much fawning.”
Glancing up at me, he smiled and lowered his head in a respectful bow. “Lady Yumeko,” he said in a solemn voice, “I feel I must apologize again for my boorish behavior the night we met. It is fortunate that the sakura blossoms have already faded and passed away, for surely they would weep at having to compete with your beauty.”
“Um...” I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that; no one had ever paid me such a compliment before. Fortunately at that moment, Reika slid open the door and joined us on the veranda, saving me from stammering a reply in a most unnoble-like fashion. The miko still wore the red hakama and white haori of the shrine maidens, but her hair was up and had been decorated with ribbons and tiny bells. Two other miko appeared behind her, similarly dressed, and both of them gaped at the stunning aristocrat, their mouths slightly open. Daisuke, likely used to such reactions, politely ignored them.
“Stop that.” Reika swatted one of the miko with a sleeve, making her jump. “Both of you. You look like a pair of gasping carp. Do not embarrass me tonight. Taiyo-san,” she continued, turning and bowing to Daisuke, making the golden bells in her hair jingle. “Forgive this inconvenience to your valuable time. I cannot express my gratitude enough.”
“Not at all, Reika-san,” Daisuke replied. “I’m glad to be of help. And a change in the court scenery will be good for everyone. Shall we go? The sun is setting, and it is a long walk to the palace.”
“A moment, please,” said the shrine maiden, stopping us. “There is one more who will be coming.”
Reaching into her sleeve, she withdrew an ofuda, the white strip of paper used to focus holy magic. The kanji for loyalty was written down the surface, the same ofuda she’d brandished at me when we first met. Closing her eyes, the shrine maiden began chanting something under her breath, and the air around her began to stir with power.
“Guardian of the Hayate shrine,” I heard her whisper. “Most loyal of protectors, come to me.”
The wind around her scattered in all directions, rattling the branches overhead. We waited, holding our breath.
A furry creature trotted around the building and came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. It was a dog, small and lanky, with triangular ears, reddish-orange fur with a white belly, and a bushy tail curled tightly over its hindquarters. A crimson rope collar hung around its neck, a golden bell dangling from the very center.
Inu! I fought the sudden urge to leap back, to sprint down the veranda and duck into one of the rooms, closing the door between us. I’d never liked dogs, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Once, when I was wandering the grounds outside the temple, a pair of village dogs, lean and ravenous-looking, had spotted me and given chase. None of my tricks had worked on them; they’d ignored the images of roaring bears and fleeing rabbits, as if somehow knowing they weren’t real. To escape my pursuers, I’d ended up climbing a tree, where I’d stayed until nightfall, when Denga had come looking for me and chased them off.
“Kit-kitsune?” Okame exclaimed, making me jump and look back at him. The ronin was staring at the dog with a bemused expression on his face. “The guardian of this shrine is a kitsune?”
“It’s not a fox,” I told him, relieved and just a tiny bit annoyed. “It’s a dog. Honestly, Okame, it doesn’t look anything like a fox.”
“This is Chu,” Reika said calmly, making the dog look up at her and wag its tail. “He is the guardian of the Hayate shrine. One half of them, anyway.” Her eyes clouded over, a furrow wrinkling her smooth brow. “Ko, the other protector, disappeared the night Master Jiro left. I think she was either summoned by the head priest, or sensed that he was in danger and went to find him, because neither of them has returned.”
“He is rather small for his type,” Daisuke said, in a voice that was trying to be kind. Okame snorted.
“Small? He’s a runt. How the hell is this lint ball the guardian of anything, unless he protects the shrine from sparrows and rats?”
Chu laced back his ears and growled at the ronin, baring a set of sharp white teeth.
Reika sighed. “
This is the form that allows him to follow me into the city,” the shrine maiden told the ronin. “In fact, when he is wearing this body, he is hardly noticeable at all. He will even be able to slip past the gates of the Imperial Palace with little to no attention. One of his many talents—people simply don’t notice that he is there.” A slightly evil smile curled her lips as she gazed at the ronin. “Chu doesn’t hold grudges, but were I you, I would think twice about insulting him. His true form is much more...impressive.”
Okame raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn’t say anything else. Chu rose gracefully to his feet and trotted away, as if taking the lead, and we followed him across the yard and down the steps of the Hayate shrine. As we passed under the torii gate at the entrance, I noticed that both stone pedestals were empty.
“Oh, Yumeko-san, before I forget...” Daisuke turned to me, smiling, as we stepped onto the streets of the Wind district. “I spoke to one of my uncles about you,” he began, “and he was very interested that an onmyoji would be attending the party tonight.”
“Oh? That was nice. Your uncle sounds like a very kind man.”
“Yes, and he will be quite pleased to see you. You see, a few months ago, there was a terrible scandal surrounding the emperor’s last onmyoji—rumors of treason and blood magic, whispers of assassination. It was a horrible mess. In the end the onmyoji and his assistants were executed, but the position of court diviner has yet to be filled. My uncle thinks the emperor will be delighted to have an onmyoji tell his fortune.” Daisuke’s brilliant smile grew even wider, even as I realized what he was implying, and stifled the urge to pin back my ears in alarm. “If all goes well tonight, Yumeko-san, you might have an audience with the emperor of Iwagoto himself.”
* * *
Despite my nervousness, it was impossible not to be awed by the splendor of the Imperial Palace. Sitting atop its peak, the golden structure caught the last fading rays of light and glimmered like a miniature sun itself. As we drew closer, I caught glimpses of gilded roof ornaments: golden fish, dragons and phoenixes topped the sweeping corners, silhouetted against the sky and gazing down on us mere mortals, far below.
As we approached the enormous gates, I spotted a pair of samurai near the entrance, dressed in armor and holding their yari spears upright. I worried that they would step forward, angling those spears to block our path. But they didn’t move, though the older one did turn his head when Daisuke walked up, a grin curving his mouth below his moustache.
“Oh, Daisuke-sama,” he called in a gruff, almost affectionate voice. “When did you get back? How did your pilgrimage to Sagimura go?”
“Very well, Fujio-san,” Daisuke answered. “I am glad I took the time to travel. It was...very enlightening.”
Behind him, Okame snorted. “I’ll bet,” he muttered, and was swatted on the arm by Reika. The guard’s attention shifted to her and the other three shrine maidens.
“Ah,” he said, nodding once. “Entertainers for the emperor’s party, I presume. It has been a while since we have had a kagura dance at the palace.” His gaze fell on me, taking in my robes, my peaked cap, and his brows lifted. “Is that...an onmyoji, Daisuke-sama? Fortune does seem to favor you, doesn’t it? His Highness will be thrilled.”
Daisuke only smiled as we passed the guards and stepped through the gates of the Imperial Palace, but my heart, which had calmed down since we’d left the shrine, started pounding again. Through the gate was an enormous open courtyard with more samurai wandering about. Beyond that, over the tops of the trees and past what seemed like a labyrinth of walls, gates and parapets, the Imperial Palace loomed against the sky like a glittering golden mountain.
Without thinking, I started toward the distant palace, but paused when Daisuke called me back. Turning, I saw him and the others heading away from the castle, toward one of the gates on the far wall of the courtyard.
“We’re not going to the palace itself, Yumeko-san,” he explained, once he realized where I was walking. “The party is being held in the castle gardens, over there.” He gestured to the far wall, where a faint glow could be seen over a large and bushy tree line. “This way, if you would. We’re almost there.”
I felt a momentary twinge that I wouldn’t be seeing the golden palace up close, but it faded as I passed beneath the gate and entered the imperial gardens.
My first thought was that I had stepped into an extremely well-groomed forest. Upon further inspection, I realized even that was wrong. Every tree, every bush, rock, flower and pebble, seemed to have been placed with the utmost care and deliberation. All the bushes were trimmed into symmetrical shapes, all the trees standing straight and tall, their branches at perfect, orderly angles. Not a leaf or petal or scrap of bark lay on the grass or blew across the lawn; even as I watched, a man whom I could only assume was a groundskeeper paused at a chrysanthemum bush and plucked an offending flower from one of the branches before stuffing it into a bag and hurrying on.
It was a beautiful garden, I would admit, stunning and awe-inspiring. And about as lifeless as a sakura painting on a hanging wall scroll. There was no natural growth, none of the joyful chaos of a real forest. The emperor’s garden felt like I did at the moment, stuffed into an elegant but uncomfortable robe meant to impress everyone who saw it, wishing I could take it off and move around naturally.
“Beautiful, is it not?” Daisuke murmured, gazing around with a serene smile on his face. “Everything here is designed with such precision. The castle employs a hundred servants and fifty master gardeners to keep everything clean and perfect.”
“It is nice,” I agreed. “But it would be terribly difficult for anything to live here. The gardeners would have a nervous breakdown if a single rabbit got into the flowers.”
The path through the gardens was well lit by strings of chochin lanterns, and we followed the bobbing orange lights until we reached yet another gate where a stern-looking samurai eyed Okame and me before turning to the noble in front.
“Taiyo-sama,” he said with a bow. “Please forgive me, but the emperor’s party is by invitation only. I know your family is already within, but I don’t recognize your companions. I must ask that they show me their invitations, or I cannot allow them to pass.”
“I am allowing them,” Daisuke said easily. “This is Yumeko-san, a respected onmyoji from the Earth lands, and her yojimbo, Hino Okame. They are here as my guests.”
The samurai grunted, looking over Daisuke’s shoulder at me, before shifting his gaze to Reika and the two shrine maidens behind us. “And what about them?”
Reika and the others sank into a formal bow. “Please excuse us,” the miko said. “We are from the Hayate shrine, here to perform tonight’s kagura dance for the emperor.”
The guard frowned. “I didn’t hear anything about an onmyoji attending,” he said stubbornly, glaring at me again. “She’s awfully young. I’ve never heard of her, certainly. How do we know she’s experienced enough to see the emperor?” His jaw tightened, and he jerked his chin at me. “Who have you served before, girl? Which lords have you attended?”
“Excuse me,” said a voice, saving me a reply. A man came forward, thin and disheveled-looking, his clothes rumpled and his hair standing on end. He wasn’t a samurai or a noble; his clothes, though not as tattered and threadbare as some peasants, were quite plain. His robe was dusty, and he smelled of sawdust and wood shavings.
Seeing the newcomer, the samurai immediately stepped forward to block his path, momentarily forgetting about us. “Halt. How did you get in here? State your buisness, now.”
The man sniffed and drew himself up. “I’m looking for someone,” he said in a reedy yet confident voice. “I have permission to be here. I need to speak to the magistrate now.”
Daisuke brushed my arm. “Come,” he said softly, as the samurai stated again, in a louder voice, that the area was off-limits. The noble looked troubled, as if wanting to speak t
o the newcomer, but he continued to usher us away. “We do not need to be present for this, nor do I wish to shame a samurai who was only doing his job. Let us leave him to his duties and slip away quietly.”
Reluctantly, I turned from the man, who was now arguing with the guard in a high-pitched voice and waving his twig-like arms. The samurai didn’t even glance at us as we slipped through the gate and melted into the shadows beyond. Okame caught my gaze and grinned, but I couldn’t quite return it.
Past the guard, we followed a bamboo wall, turned a corner and entered a large open area on the edge of a beautifully scenic lake. A red-and-gold pagoda sat on an island in the center, connected to a bridge that arched gracefully over the water. Shamisen music drifted through the air, played by an older woman kneeling on a rug, who plucked at the strings with practiced ease. Overhead, the individual cords of lanterns were a ceiling of floating lights, casting a bright, hazy glow over the throngs of people milling about. For a moment, I could only stare in awe at the sea of colorful robes, each one brighter and more extravagant than the last. The women wore many layered kimonos, so intricate and heavy-looking that I wondered how they could move. Some of the men wore hakama and jackets with stiff, flared shoulders, but several of them were clad in robes only slightly less elaborate than the women’s.
I felt a nudge, as Okame stepped close and nodded across the lawn to where a platform had been set up in front of a folding screen. Seated on a cushion before a lacquered table, surrounded by attractive women and imposing samurai, a handsome man in brilliant yellow-and-white robes sipped from a golden cup.
I swallowed. “Is that...?” I whispered unnecessarily.
“Taiyo no Genjiro the one hundred and forty-third,” the ronin murmured in my ear. “The Son of Heaven, and the emperor of Iwagoto.”
“Daisuke-san!”
A man came toward us, weaving around individuals and through clumps of nobles as he did. He had white hair and a sharply pointed goatee, and waved to the noble as he approached. “Uncle Morimasa,” Daisuke said, and turned to me with a slight bow. “Please excuse me, Yumeko-san. I will be right back.”
