The Twelve Kingdoms: A Thousand Leagues of Wind

by Fuyumi Ono

  Charcoal was indispensable during the winter, so of course it was kept in good supply. Still, she was told that there might not be enough to last till spring and was sent out to get more. She wasn't even provided with a horse.

  She hates me that much.

  Shoukei cursed Gobo in her heart. Sending her by herself to a neighboring town to haul back a hundred pounds of charcoal on a sled, Gobo knew for damn sure that one slipup and Shoukei would be dead. And one way or another, she made sure Shoukei understand that she didn't care, either.

  How much long do I put up with this?

  When she turned twenty, she would get her own partition and could leave the orphanage. The reckoning of those "twenty years" was according to customs followed since time immemorial, but according to Shoukei's age on the census, she had two more years to go.

  Two more years of this life.

  And even in two years, there was no guarantee that she would get her plot of land. Gekkei, the man who had murdered her father, he wasn't likely to so readily set her free.

  She resisted the urge to stop and rest, and instead pushed herself on. At last, she struggled up to the gates just before they closed for the night. Inside the town, there remained something of the lively atmosphere. She staggered back to the orphanage and sat down in the snow. She could hear the excited voices of the children inside.

  Two more years.

  Those two years stretched out like an eternity. The thirty years she had spent at the Imperial Palace seemed short in comparison. She grimmaced and got to her feet, unloaded the straw sacks of charcoal and stored them in the barn. And then went into the orphanage.

  She opened the back door and stepped into the kitchen. "I'm back."

  Gobo flashed her a taunting smile. "You've returned with the charcoal, then? If there's even an ounce missing, you'll have to do it all over again."

  "It's all there, all one hundred pounds."

  Gobo sniffed incredulously and held out her hand. Shoukei deposited the frozen purse in her palm. Gobo checked the contents and gave Shoukei an icy glare. "There's not much change here, is there?"

  "Charcoal is expensive. It's pretty scarce this year."

  A summer typhoon had blown down the trees on the nearby mountains, leading to the high cost of charcoal.

  "So you say," Gobo muttered to herself. She turned to Shoukei with a cold smile. "If you're lying to me, I'll know soon enough. Until then, we'll have to take your word for it."

  Shoukei hung her head. Like I would stoop to stealing chicken feed like this, she told herself derisively.

  "Well, you'd better get started on your evening chores."

  Shoukei only nodded. She didn't have the right to talk back to anybody in authority, so no matter how tired she was, she knew it wouldn't do any good to complain.

  Shoukei went to the barn with the other children to feed the animals, muck out the stables, and milk the cow and goat.

  Even while doing their chores, the children chattered cheerfully. "Too bad you couldn't get back earlier," a girl said to Shoukei. "The Red Banner people are gone by now."

  Shoukei didn't answer, silently cutting the straw into the feed.

  "A good thing it snowed," a boy said earnestly.

  Even with a horse-drawn sleigh, the snowy roads were almost impassable. When it snowed, the Red Banner troubadours had to camp out in a town until it stopped. Truth be told, Shoukei had been wishing for snow as well. But the snow was also the reason she hadn't gotten home until late.

  The Red Banner troubadours were masters of travel, but even winter could best them at times. They usually traveled the circuit of cities and towns from spring until fall and then wintered over in a big city, where they would rent a small dwelling and settle down for the rest of the season. The reason they would take such risks during the winter was because King Chuutatsu, Shoukei's father, had forbid entertainers to work except when the fields lay fallow.

  Since his death, many Red Banner troubadours now chose to pack it in during the winter, but there were still those who continued to tour. During the winter, there was nothing to do in the towns and villages. So when a Red Banner troupe showed up, they would be welcomed with open arms. That was enough to motivate not a few of them to brave the elements and keep on trudging from town to town.

  "It was a really great show."

  "I liked the acrobats the best."

  Her head bowed, Shoukei listened to the accounts of their delightful day. She was dying to say how she used to see similar performances all the time at the palace.

  "Oh, yes," said a girl, "and the story they told about the empress of the Kingdom of Kei. She's only sixteen or seventeen!"

  "What?" Shoukei raised her head.

  "Isn't that something? A king is the same as a god, right? I wonder what it would be like to become one of the twelve ruling the whole earth, the elite of the elite."

  The other girls nodded. "Yeah."

  "I would definitely wear silk, with the embroidered plumage of a bird. And gold and silver and pearls."

  "And there was this pretend king who started doing whatever she felt like and the new empress clobbered her. That must have been something to see."

  "Because the Royal En came to help her with reinforcements."

  "Wow, to think she even knows the Royal En!"

  "You know, they must know each other real well if he'd come to her rescue like that."

  "Don't you wonder what the coronation ceremony was like? I bet she was all gorgeous and everything."

  Shoukei stared down at her feet. The boisterous voices faded away. A sixteen or seventeen year old girl. Who had become empress.

  Shoukei knew what living in a palace was like. It was totally different from this remote corner of the world.

  It's not fair, she said to herself. She was stuck in this miserable life while a girl her same age was enjoying everything that had been taken from her. Shoukei had no way of returning to the palace. Her wonderful parents had been killed and she had been exiled to the hinterlands where she would spend the rest of her life.

  She looked at the shovel in her hands. Hands tanned like leather from toiling under a blazing sun, hands whose protruding joints had grown accustomed to carrying heavy loads, hands that bent like claws, with no one to manicure and care for them. She would grow old like this. As if adapting themselves to living in this hick town, her mind and body were going to seed as well. In time, she'd turn into a boorish old hag like Gobo.

  And all the while, the empress of Kei would reside at the palace, eternally as beautiful as she was at sixteen.

  "It's not fair."

  Deep within her heart, another voice chimed in.

  It's unforgivable.

  Part III

  he month drew to a close. In Gyouten, the capital city of Kei, the giddy atmosphere finally dissipated. A sense of calm returned to the handling of visitors and the reaction to the coronation in general. The topsy-turvy of the palace settled down. Nevertheless, with the midwinter Koushi ceremony approaching, there was still that sense of being kept constantly on one's toes.

  Youko looked out the window and sighed softly. Through the windowpanes she could see the wintry gardens and fields.

  Mornings she spent at the Gaiden. Afternoons she returned to the Naiden. These two buildings constituted the core of the palace, where the empress did the bulk of her work. In basic terms, the Privy Council met in the Gaiden and the Naiden was where she performed her official duties as empress.

  The Naiden essentially began where the outer palace ended and the Gaiden began where the inner palace ended.

  So on one hand, the government functionaries who worked in the outer palace were not allowed as a matter of course to pass further into the castle than the Naiden. On the other hand, the empress's living quarters were mostly found in the inner palace, and she was not supposed to transgress the outer palace past the Gaiden.

  Youko had a visitor. He entered the Naiden accompanied by a palace guard. Seeing who her
guest was, she raised her eyebrows.

  It was Chousai Seikyou. Chousai was his title, Minister-in-Chief Seikyou of the Rikkan, or Six Ministries. The Six Ministries themselves were known as the Ministries of Heaven, Earth, Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter. They handled the various affairs of the palace, the census and apportionment of lands, ritual and protocol, defense, justice and public works. Historically, the Taisai, or the head of the Ministry of Heaven, assumed the post of Chousai and the administration of the Rikkan. But more recently the appointment of the Chousai simply followed established tradition.

  Youko was never sure of how to deal with the magisterial-looking Chousai.

  "I beg your pardon, Highness," said Seikyou, prostrating himself before the throne.

  "What is it?"

  "The matter of workforce management, if you please."

  This again, Youko said to herself, biting her lip. Keiki wasn't available to assist her as her chief advisor during the afternoon executive sessions on governmental affairs. He had to attend to his duties as lord of Ei Province. And when Keiki wasn't around, Youko was at a loss when it came to even the basic workings of government. That was probably why Seikyou always showed up in the afternoon.

  The realm had fallen to ruin due to the previous empress's mismanagement, the ongoing calamities, strife and youma rampages. Simply getting things back to normal was going to require a massive amount of civil engineering.

  Over the past several days, the discussions in the Privy Council had centered around this matter. The question of where the work should begin and according to what criteria laborers should be recruited and deployed was still up in the air.

  Youko gathered that the council members had more or less divided into factions. The biggest faction was led by Seikyou. The proposals of his faction were completely at odds with those of the opposing faction. He insisted that, until the spring, flood control measures should be emphasized. The opposing faction insisted that in order for the most people survive the winter, the rebuilding of the cities should be paramount.

  Only this morning, Seikyou had again repeated his position before the Privy Council, and now he had come on bended knee to assess her disposition on the subject.

  "How is Your Highness resolved as to the matter?"

  Youko was momentarily at a loss as how to answer. Both flood control and urban reconstruction were equally important. But which one should be given priority? Kei was not wealthy enough to take on both simultaneously. This was the decision she had been left to unsuccessfully wrestle with.

  Moreover, in either case, she was completely incapable of fathoming which flood control measures and urban renewal programs were at issue. She'd read the reports prepared by the Summer Ministry, but she had no idea where these places were, what kind of places they were, or the nature of the relief required.

  "I'm sorry, but I really don't know."

  She spoke in a muted voice. Admitting her ignorance really grated.

  Seikyou sighed to himself. "Your Highness, this is a decision that you must make."

  "I'm sorry."

  "I am aware that your Highness comes to us from Yamato. However, I trust that by now you have come to some understanding of the situation."

  "I am educating myself, but my understanding is incomplete. I am sorry."

  "At this point, we need only determine which of these programs shall be given priority."

  "I'll talk it over with Keiki and come to a decision."

  Seikyou again sighed deeply. "Forgive my forwardness, Your Highness. But is it your intent that the Taiho rule in your stead? The Taiho's first thoughts are always on the alleviation of the people's suffering. Given control of everything, the Taiho will always act out of pity, even to the ruin of the kingdom."

  "I know." To a kirin, the suffering of the people took priority over everything else. "But I truly haven't come to a decision."

  Seikyou briefly bowed his head. When he raised his head the look on his face was either that of scorn or discouragement. In any case, she knew that he was getting fed up with her. He said, and there was exasperation in his voice, "I am aware that I am being presumptuous, but could I perhaps request that you delegate the matter to one of your subordinates?"

  When it came right down to it, time was of the essence and Youko had no choice but to agree. She said, "Sure. Fine. It's all your responsibility, Chousai."

  Seikyou bowed low.

  Youko watched Seikyou leave and groaned aloud.

  Remarkably, the problem-plagued Imperial Ministries had been reorganized, the holes in the dike plugged for the time being. The harmful statutes enacted by the Late Empress Yo-ou had been repealed, the rule of law reestablished. A large part of the military budget had been diverted to assist the refugees, and the year's tax assessments cut.

  Bit by bit the kingdom was starting to move forward. That's what everybody assured her.

  Everybody was happy that a new monarch had acceded to the throne. Exactly what they were happy for, Youko wasn't sure. What she knew of this world didn't even rise to the level of common sense. Called upon to make a decision, she too often prevaricated. She found giving orders next to impossible.

  Any proposal she made would just get laughed at, and, to make matter worse, except for Imperial Rescripts, would have to be approved first by the Sankou and then the Rikkan. Aside from the ceremonial formalities involved with the Inaugural Rescript itself, there was nothing to prevent her from issuing additional Imperial Rescripts. But she didn't have the courage to start issuing rescripts. In the final analysis, she was stuck with the Rikkan that the Late Empress Yo-ou had left to her, and did whatever they told her to.

  Such is the lot of the Royal Kei.

  Youko laughed derisively at herself. The rejoicing at her accession reached even to the palace. Who could begin to imagine the reality of what even Rakushun and the Royal En and Enki had congratulated her for?

  "Your Highness."

  Keiki came into the executive chambers, having completed his administrative duties. "It seems that Chousai was recently here."

  "Yeah, he was. That business of workforce deployment. I left it all up to him."

  "You left it all up to him?"

  "Shouldn't I have?"

  Keiki answered her question with a disappointed expression on his face.

  "Look, I didn't know which one to give priority to. I didn't know because I don't know anything about the conditions of this country. So I handed it over to somebody who did. You disagree?"

  "No, that would seem a satisfactory solution." But he sighed.

  Youko sighed as well. Since her coronation, she'd heard that sigh any number of times. "If you think I shouldn't have, then go ahead and say so."

  "It is always wise to listen to what your ministers have to say. If Your Highness then decided to delegate this responsibility, I see no reason to object."

  So why the sour face? Youko thought, looking into his impassive countenance. All she could read in him was a vague sense of dissatisfaction. "If you're not happy with me for some reason, let me know. If there's something you think I should be doing, let's hear it."

  A hard edge came to her voice. She was giving everybody reason to sigh, even him, and was getting sick and tired of it.

  Keiki said, that same stoic expression on his face, "As you wish. It is the monarch who rules the kingdom. You rule the kingdom according to the council of your ministers. There is nothing wrong with listening with an open mind to what they have to say. But simply handing the entire matter over to Chousai is likely to make the others unhappy. When taking advice from the civil service, you must be sure to consider all contributions equally."

  "I do."

  Keiki's expression didn't change. "If, upon taking all points of view into consideration, you then decided to delegate the matter to Chousai, I don't believe anybody would complain."

  "Are you unhappy with me, too, Keiki?"

  Your Highness? the expression on her counselor's face asked, his eyes widen
ing.

  "Dissatisfied with another empress? Am I a disappointment to you?"

  They all looked at her with suspicious, doubting eyes. Oh, for the good old days of King Tatsu, she could hear them saying. They simply couldn't accept another empress on the throne.

  "Nothing of the sort."

  Youko averted her gaze and rested her elbows on the table. "You're the one who put me on this throne. So don't look at me like that."

  "Your Highness, I . . . . "

  Youko interrupted him. "Go away."

  Chapter 12

  Oh, so you were born in Japan as well?

  "Yes," Suzu answered with a nod.

  And you were swept onto the shores of this world. How unfortunate.

  "It was awful," Suzu agreed.

  I know, I know. Nobody in this world can truly understand how difficult a kaikyaku's life is. But I do.

  "Yes, it is. It's really, really tough," Suzu said. "But I'm so happy to have met the Royal Kei."

  I'm pleased as well. You have nothing to worry about anymore. You're a fellow kaikyaku like me. I'll do whatever I can to help you. If there's anything troubling you, let me know.

  "I am indeed grateful, Your Highness. I . . . . "

  Suzu turned over on her cot. Her imagination failed her. She couldn't think of what to say next.

  Since hearing about the Royal Kei from Riyou, she'd had this conversation with herself night after night. The Royal Kei would be full of sympathy for her. They'd converse about Japan, about the trials of the past, their plans for the future. But Suzu had no power, no wealth, no freedom. Surely, the Royal Kei would come to her rescue.

  How can I help you?

  Could she demand that Suzu be sent to Kei to live in the palace? A luxurious palace, not at all like Suibi Grotto, with generous and kindhearted servants. There they would talk together and stroll through the gardens. And while she was at it, how about giving Riyou a taste of her own medicine?