You bitch! You treacherous bitch! I did not free you from that pig of a husband to marry someone else! You belong to me! Vile, faithless slut! How could you allow the Herald to come between us?!
Mishiko pulled the Herald round to face her. ‘Oh, my beloved! It was I who killed you! If I had not sent that letter you would still be alive!’
‘No! Do not blame yourself! He had an even baser reason for ordering my death!’ The Herald flung out his arm. ‘See for yourself how they both conspired to betray me!’
Mishiko followed his accusing finger with her eyes and found herself back in Ieyasu’s study. The Chamberlain and her brother sat facing each other across a low table. Shikobu placed a sheaf of documents on the table then bowed his way backwards out of the room.
Ieyasu perused the documents, nodding with satisfaction as he did so. ‘I congratulate you, sire. Your plan to destroy the Heron Pool has succeeded better than we could have hoped. Lord Yama-Shita is dead, those around him have paid with their lives, leaving his family in disarray, Lord Min-Orota has returned to the fold and we have brought the allegiance of the Ko-Nikka and Se-Iko at the Yama-Shita’s expense!’ He glanced through some more reports. ‘And the blame for all this has fallen on the treacherous long-dogs and grass-monkeys that Lord Yama-Shita was unwise enough to employ!’
‘Have they left the country?’ asked Yoritomo.
‘Yes, sire. Their safe passage has been arranged. It was one of the guarantees I had to give our friends in the Federation in exchange for their assistance.’
‘So … with their departure, the trail runs dead. Our enemies cannot link me to the destruction of the Heron Pool and the deaths of those who had the misfortune to find themselves trapped there.’
‘Not through the long-dogs, sire,’ said Ieyasu. ‘But there remains one person who conveyed your orders to them – and who arranged the death of the Consul-General.’
Yoritomo drew back. ‘The Herald Hase-Gawa? You cannot mean to suggest … No! That would be monstrous! I may have guided his hand but he was the true architect of our success. A loyal servant who obeyed my instructions to the letter.’
‘But one who also acted upon a few initiatives of his own.…’
Yoritomo frowned. ‘Would you care to amplify that remark?’
‘Do you intend to allow the Lady Mishiko to marry the Herald – as she has requested?’
Yoritomo appeared to stonewall. ‘How do you know she has made such a request?’
Ieyasu met this with another thin smile. ‘There is little that escapes my attention, sire – especially when it concerns someone so … close to the throne.’
The Shogun bridled at this veiled reference to his incestuous relationship with his younger sister. ‘In my opinion, it is far too soon for her to think of marrying someone else,’ he snapped.
‘I agree, sire – but I doubt if she will. And I believe your refusal to countenance such a match will come as a deep disappointment to the Herald Hase-Gawa. Especially in view of the valuable services he has just rendered. In my experience, the disappointment that arises from the failure to receive what is viewed as a just and proper reward often leads to disaffection.
‘Could such a man be trusted? A man privy to secrets which must never be spoken of beyond these four walls? A man crossed in love, who felt himself betrayed by one he has served so loyally? If he were to reveal to the Yama-Shita and the Min-Orota the part you played in the destruction of the Heron Pool, it could do great damage to our cause. And what would happen to our alliance with the house of Toh-Shiba if they learned you had initiated the murder of one of their favourite sons?’
Yoritomo’s nostrils flared. ‘Is there anything you do not know?’
Ieyasu spread his hands in a placatory gesture. ‘Sire, your secrets are safe with me. I have but one concern – to keep this country under the rule of the Toh-Yota. I have no wish to see you toppled from the throne by an embittered young man. As long as the Herald remains alive, he will retain a hold on your sister’s affections. If you deny them permission to marry and she comes back to court, you would have to be on your guard. Day and night.’
Yoritomo mused on this for a while. When he spoke there was a bitter edge to his voice. ‘I would, in truth, be glad to get rid of him. But I cannot condemn him for following orders. My heralds are men of honour who serve me loyally because we share a sacred trust. If it became known that Toshiro was killed for the sake of political expediency, that relationship would be totally undermined!’
‘Of course,’ said Ieyasu soothingly. ‘And to punish him for bringing aid and comfort to your sister would be equally reprehensible.’
‘Exactly! And she would never forgive me. No …’ Yoritomo open and closed the clawed fingers of his right hand as he searched for a solution, ‘I need a more acceptable pretext. Something stronger, that takes this right away from me and any personal animosity I might be expected to harbour. Some evidence of wrong-doing that would persuade everyone – including Mishiko – that his punishment was just and well-deserved,’
‘Hmmmm.’ Ieyasu searched among the papers on the table and produced a letter. It had been opened, but still bore the undamaged seal of the Herald Hase-Gawa. ‘By a stroke of good fortune, this document fell into the hands of one of my agents. I have a feeling it may be just what you’re looking for – proof that he is a base and treacherous knave.’
Yoritomo took the letter and read it. When he looked up, his face reflected a troubled mixture of uncertainty, relief and guilt. ‘Hase-Gawa wrote this?’
‘Why not ask him?’
‘I will.’ Yoritomo bowed to his grand-uncle. ‘It seems I shall be forever in your debt.’
Ieyasu responded with a deeper bow. ‘Your happiness and well-being is reward enough, sire.’
The room faded. Mishiko and the Herald were transported back to the sunlit woods where his horse now grazed peacefully by the side of the road.
Greatly distressed by what she had seen and heard, Mishiko seized the Herald by the arms. ‘Why did you not defend yourself when my brother showed you this letter?! Why did you not tell him you stood falsely accused?!’
‘Because I knew him too well!’ cried Toshiro. ‘He spoke of witnesses who could testify that I posted the letter. I could tell he knew it was a forgery, but in his mind he had already condemned me – as you have just seen. I could not defend myself!’
‘Why?!’
‘Because I had sworn a sacred oath to serve him until my dying breath. If he had not demanded my life, I would still have had to kill myself. To have lived on in the face of such treachery would have dishonoured me and destroyed any hope I might have had of marrying you.’
As the sister of the Shogun, Mishiko could understand the Herald’s predicament. For any Iron Master worth his salt, loss of face was a deadly serious business that brought many promising lives to an abrupt end.
Giri – duty, obligation to one’s superiors, took precedence over everything else. And there were occasions, when a master’s conduct was viewed as particularly unworthy, that a samurai would commit seppuku – ritual suicide – rather than remain in his service. Someone from the Federation, or the Plainfolk, might view this as a somewhat radical form of protest but it was perfectly comprehensible to someone who embraced bushido, the rigid belief-system which underpinned Iron Master society.
In this system, ninjo, human feelings took second place. But feelings were what Mishiko had in abundance; feelings which had been bottled up too long – first out of fear of her brother, then out of a sense of duty towards the husband that had been forced on her by Ieyasu. Feelings which had been crushed and imprisoned by grief, and which now had been released. An unstoppable flood-tide of emotion that threatened to sweep all reason aside.
Mishiko reached up and caressed the Herald’s haunted face. ‘Had it not been for you, my life would have ended long ago. I cannot bear to be parted from you! And I cannot rest until I have freed you from this torment. Tell me what I must do!’
>
Toshiro took hold of her hands and gripped them tightly. ‘We need not be parted. I am condemned to this hellish half-life because my soul cries out for vengeance! Justice demands it! If your love for me is stronger than your fear of death, break free of the bonds that tie you to earth by killing those who betrayed me!’
‘My brother…?’
‘Yes! And Ieyasu too!’
‘But how can I…?’
The Herald tightened his grip on her hands. ‘The two spirit-witches who brought me through the Veil have the power to help you achieve anything your heart desires! Taking the lives of the Chamberlain and your cruel and faithless brother will free me from this twilight world! I shall be as you remember me, and you will taste the joys that life denied you. Strike these mortal blows and join me! One short step through the Veil, and we shall be together – never ageing, ever loving, for all eternity!’
Mishiko knew that if she should succeed in doing what he asked, her death would be just the beginning. Killing her brother would lead to the death of her children and all her servants, and any acquaintances who might be thought to be implicated. When someone as highly placed as the Shogun and Ieyasu were assassinated, innocence took second place to the need for vengeance – and to discourage anyone else with similar ideas.
But in Ne-Issan, that was par for the course. Mishiko did not hesitate. ‘I will do what you ask of me.’
The Herald gathered her into his arms and for one moment, as they kissed, his haggard face was transformed. The deathly grey pallor faded from his cheeks, his eyes were clear and sparkling, his whole body pulsed with youthful vigour. The ardour of his embrace left her breathless and tingling from head to toe.
He stepped back, loosened his grip on her outstretched hands and said: ‘Do it soon. Each day without you is like living a hundred years in hell.’
‘Wait!’ cried Mishiko. As she went to run after him, her foot caught in the hem of her robe. She fell to her knees. In a few swift strides the Herald reached his horse. Swinging into the saddle, he wheeled round, his right hand raised in farewell. The horse reared against the sun, its rays burning out the edges of its body and that of its rider. Then the light swallowed them both, and as they vanished so did the the woodland glade.
Mishiko found herself back in the pavilion, kneeling on the mat in front of the charcoal brazier, with her arms stretched out imploringly. She gave a despairing cry. The wall panel slid open and an instant later, Lord Min-Orota was at her side.
‘What is it, mi’lady?’
‘Nothing. I … Do not worry, I have not been harmed.’ She used his arms as a support as she rose unsteadily to her feet. ‘I cannot thank you enough. What I have seen and heard is beyond belief! Such a journey! To so many places! Have you waited long?’
Min-Orota waved the question aside. ‘It was but a matter of moments.’
‘Then their magic is even more powerful than I thought. For not only did they allow me to recapture the happiness we once shared, they have restored my hopes and given me a new sense of purpose.’ The light in Mishiko’s eyes faded. Her face became an expressionless mask. ‘Where is my brother, Yoritomo?’
Min-Orota answered with a bow. ‘I believe the Shogun and the Lord Chamberlain are making a secret journey to the Summer Palace.’
‘I must go there. Immediately. Can you help me?’
‘Yes, mi’lady.’ Min-Orota smiled inwardly. The monkey-witches had done their work well. ‘I will arrange for a vessel to take us from Oshana-sita to Aron-Giren. If we leave at first light, you can be in the Summer Palace before they arrive – a move which may be to your advantage.’
‘Can the spirit-witches accompany me?’
‘They are prepared to follow you anywhere, mi’lady. And I am sure that if you wish to speak again with the Herald, they will be only too happy to oblige you. Their powers are yours to command.’
Mishiko cast a nervous glance at the two seated silhouettes. ‘But how will they…? What form will they assume?’
Roz took control of Mishiko’s and the domain-lord’s mind as Cadillac stood up and stepped into the light. To Min-Orota, he was no longer the tall striped grass-monkey dressed in the robes of a courtesan, but a samurai dressed in black, with a white headband bearing the house symbol of the Toh-Yota.
‘Whatever form is appropriate, your highness.’ Cadillac bowed to Lady Mishiko. When he straightened up, she found herself looking at a mirror-image of herself, who also bowed – and became Lord Min-Orota!
Kiyo stepped back in surprise and stared at his illusory twin. Mishiko clapped her hands in delight. ‘Does this not fill you with wonder?’
‘Indeed it does,’ said Min-Orota. Wonder and alarm. The one thing Min-Orota hadn’t bargained for was having a magical version of himself turn up at the scene of the crime.
Cadillac stepped back into the darkness, then emerged a few moments later, with Roz, their faces now concealed behind chalk-white masks and their hands covered with the long white gloves that courtesans wore whenever they appeared in public. Dropping down on one knee, they bowed to Mishiko.
‘Rise,’ she said. ‘It is I who should defer to you, for I am in awe of your magic. The courtesies afforded me because of my exalted position in this life mean nothing to me now. From this hour onwards, I exist only to carry out the wishes of my beloved Herald and I count upon you to guide me to him.’
‘In that case, we should board ship as soon as we can, your Highness. How far are we from Oshana-sita?’
It wasn’t a question Lady Mishiko could answer. When you were carried everywhere, the distance from A to B was someone else’s problem.
‘About ten miles,’ said Min-Orota. There is some urgent business to attend to before we depart, but we should be able to reach the coast before dawn.’
‘No, mi’lord. I cannot go directly from here. I must first return to the palace – and the sooner the better.’
Min-Orota was visibly taken aback. ‘Mi’lady! With all due respect, that is most ill-advised!’
Cadillac weighed into the argument: ‘You have seen how the Chamberlain has armed himself with the Dark Light, The black boxes convey the reports from his servants and his orders to them as swiftly as the sound from my lips reaches your ear. It is entirely possible that he already knows of Lord Min-Orota’s visit to the Winter Palace and his audience with you. If you return, you might discover that he has ordered his men to keep you confined to your quarters.’
‘He might, but he won’t. He has no grounds for suspecting me.’
‘But why take a needless risk?’ insisted Min-Orota.
Mishiko looked more determined than ever. ‘Mi’lord. You are a dear friend and I thank you for your concern, but I cannot leave without my children, their nurse and my personal servants. And I certainly do not intend to embark on such a journey with only the clothes you see me wearing now!’
‘Of course!’ said Min-Orota. ‘I understand perfectly. But once the Steward of the Court sees you preparing to leave with your retinue –’
Mishiko cut him short with an imperious gesture. ‘Kenzo will not see me leave ! I am the favoured sister of the Shogun – and as such, I am privy to the secret paths by which one may leave the Winter Palace in times of danger!’
Min-Orota accepted this mild put-down with a polite bow. ‘Then you must tell us when and where we are to meet.’
The distances one had to travel along various escape routes was something that high-born Iron Masters did know about. ‘A mile due east of the Winter Palace, a track runs southwards off the road to Oshana-sita. The track crosses a stream by a wooden foot-bridge.
‘Just past the bridge as you continue south is a wayside shrine. In the trees, immediately behind it, is a summer-house – barred, shuttered and partly overgrown. It is joined to the palace by a tunnel. Wait for me by the roadside. I will be there one hour after sunrise. Two at the most.’
‘How many will there be in your party?’ asked Cadillac.
Mishiko did a rapi
d mental calculation. ‘Twenty, not including myself.’ She turned to Min-Orota. ‘Can you provide transport?’
‘Of course. But do you really need to bring so many?’
Her voice became frosty. ‘My lord, I am normally accompanied by twice that number! I am assuming you will provide porterage. It is impossible for me to travel with less. If I was seen to arrive in reduced circumstances, eyebrows would be raised. If our two friends are to accompany me, they can be concealed more easily in a larger group – or would you prefer just the three of us to fly magically from ship to shore followed by our luggage?’
‘Of course not. Forgive me. My men will wait at the appointed place – all day if necessary – and I shall arrange for our vessels to anchor in deep water so that we are not at the mercy of the tides.’
‘Good. Now … please be kind enough to summon my maid-servants and have them bring the clothes I came in. And after that I would like you to conduct me to the gate.’
Min-Orota bowed. ‘At once mi’lady.’
Arrogant bitch.…
Hearing the clack of wooden-soled footwear on the steps to the verandah, Cadillac peered through the shutters and saw the quartet of lanterns wobble away down the path. ‘Well, there she goes.’ He threw an arm across Roz’s shoulder and gave her a congratulatory hug. ‘I’ve always been impressed by what you can do, but you’re getting better all the time, y’know that?’
Roz turned to face him and slipped her hands around his waist. ‘It couldn’t have happened without you. And I like it. It gives me a real buzz. But I’d sleep a lot easier if I knew how it works and why.’ She laughed. ‘Did you hear that? Just goes to show that underneath the paintwork, there’s still someone called Doctor Rozalynn Brickman.’
‘Do you miss all that?’
‘No. I always knew deep down that my life was going to take another turning – studying medicine was one of the steps along the way.’ She smiled. ‘Maybe Talisman gave me these gifts and sent me out here to save your life.’
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