by Fuyumi Ono
It was an uneventful trip. On the way there, they spent a night at a city on the shores of Hou and a night at a city on the shores of Kyou. After three days, they arrived at Soufuu Palace in Renshou, capital of Kyou.
The Royal Kyou, Empress of Soufuu Palace, had ruled for ninety years. Shoukei didn't know anything more about her than that. Hou had not enjoyed productive diplomatic relations with other kingdoms. On the occasion of her father Chuutatsu's coronation, envoys from Ryuu, Kyou and Han, the three nearest kingdoms, had come bearing congratulations, but from the start he rarely discoursed with the rulers of other kingdoms.
Shoukei and her escorts were shown by the palace officials into the Gaiden. Passing through the gates, Shoukei cast a painful look at the resplendent buildings.
I've got no reason to be a shrinking violet, now.
She had lived in the imperial palace, after all. Even reminding herself of this fact, she felt herself shrink. Part of it was being in the palace of a foreign potentate. The other part was, as always, shame at her slovenly appearance.
The officials who greeted them and accompanied them into the palace regarded Shoukei suspiciously. She hung her head, knowing she undoubtedly looked like some lost flower girl from the wrong side of town.
No, she thought as they walked down the polished black granite hallways, she was more wretched than any other flower girl of Kyou. Kyou was a wealthier country than Hou. She could tell that by what she had seen so far of Soufuu Palace. The city was beautifully arrayed. Hoso, the capital of Hou, looked like a one horse town in comparison.
Entering the Gaiden, she felt too miserable to raise her head. After shooting her a look, the envoy with her knelt down and proceeded forward on his knees, bowing low with his head touching the floor. Shoukei took his glance to mean that she was to do the same. Kowtowing like this only made her feel more miserable. It wasn't right that she had to humble herself like this. It should be enough to kneel. She was the princess royal, after all.
The envoy ceremoniously unfurled the decree from Gekkei and proclaimed his greeting. "The Marquis of Kei, together with all his retainers, humbly and with gratitude thanks the Royal Kyou for her great generosity in taking into custody the person of the princess royal."
Somebody chuckled. The Royal Kyou, Shoukei realized, catching her breath.
"Oh, it was nothing," she said. "We're neighbors, after all."
Shoukei opened her eyes and looked down at the floor. It was the voice of a young woman.
"But enough of that. How is Hou doing these days?"
"Fortunately, as well as can be expected."
The envoy again touched his head to the floor.
"Well, from my perspective, sitting upon the throne by right of the Mandate of Heaven, I'd say the Marquis of Kei is in a rather bad spot. But I'm sure you know that better than I do. I cannot thank you enough for all your good offices."
The echoes of her young voice rang out like a bell.
"Please congratulate the Marquis on his decisive action. The king was the cause of his own ruin. To escape his wrath, many refugees fled to Kyou in small boats and clinging to rafts. The people of Hou must all be breathing sighs of relief, now."
Unable to bear it any further, Shoukei began to lift her head. It was a breach of etiquette to raise one's head without permission. But not only that held her back. Shoukei didn't want to see the Royal Kyou. From her voice, Shoukei could tell she was a young woman, perhaps the same age as herself. She didn't want to see her, a girl clothed in silk, adorned with jewels, sitting on the throne.
"And I take it this is Son Shou."
Hearing her formal family name so casually spoken by the Royal Kyou, Shoukei bit her lip and fumed. That glib use of her name alone spoke volumes.
"Yes, it is."
"I shall take Son Shou into my custody. You needn't concern yourself about her any longer. The people of Hou and the ministers of Hou can forget all about her."
Understood, said the envoy with a bow.
"Please tell the Marquis of Kei to put the king behind him and work for the good of the realm, and so atone for his sins. A kingdom without a king can sink into the depths with alarming speed. That is the best way of keeping the ship of state afloat."
"I shall inform him thusly."
"Does the Marquis still reside at the provincial capital? He should take possession of the imperial throne as soon as possible. I believe it best that he assume the throne until the coronation of the next king and work on behalf of all the people. I will send along letters making note of the same. If any profess dissatisfaction with this course of events, let it be said that it was done according to the recommendation of the Royal Kyou."
Outraged, Shoukei raised her head. She couldn't stop herself. "Gekkei is a traitor and regicide!"
Their eyes met. The Empress sitting on the throne looked no older than twelve. She had the face of an angel. Standing behind her was a man with golden hair closer to a shade of copper. Kyouki, the kirin of Kyou.
The girl's coral lips parted. "The king destroyed himself," she said dismissively. "No king is killed except as the consequence of his crimes." She returned her attention to the envoy. "Sir, hasten back to Hou and give whatever assistance you can to the Marquis."
The envoy bowed deeply. With a voice filled with emotion, he thanked the Court and withdrew, leaving Shoukei behind. Shoukei continued to stare up at her.
The Empress said, "Once you are registered upon the census, would you prefer to live in the city or serve in the palace as a maidservant?"
The blood rushed to Shoukei's cheeks. A maidservant, a working servant, not even rising to the rank of a lowly clerk, not even listed upon the Registry! This child was asking her, the princess royal, if she wanted to be a maidservant.
Seeing the expression on her face, the girl giggled. "She still has her pride, if nothing else. Yet I am not so compassionate as the Marquis. Go to a orphanage or become a maidservant. Take your pick. You will reside at the orphanage until you reach the age of your majority, but as you are not a citizen of Kyou, you will not receive a partition. You'll have to find yourself a job. Well?"
"You're mean."
"And I don't much care for you, either." She grinned. "We took custody of you because your continuing presence in Hou would only cause more harm. Pity for your plight had nothing to do with it, and don't you forget it. So, which will it be?"
Shoukei could not imagine being at the beck and call of this girl. But her memories pushed those feelings aside. Ending every day covered with dirt, working until you could barely move, sleeping in a drafty shack. Everything she had experienced in Hou now mitigated her feelings of outrage.
"I'll be a maidservant."
Really, the girl chortled. "In that case, the first thing you need to learn is to prostrate yourself properly before the Empress, and never to raise your head and speak until and unless you are spoken to."
The Empress was about to return to the Naiden when the man behind her opened his mouth to speak. Shushou looked over her shoulder at him.
"What was that?"
He said, a flustered look on his face. "The way you dealt with the princess royal . . . . "
"Oh, nonsense," Shushou said flippantly. "Before you start feeling sorry for Shoukei, first feel sorry for the people of Hou who have so much cause to hate her. Really, you kirin do let your sense of compassion get the best of you, putting the cart before the horse and all."
"But . . . . "
Shushou laughed. She peered at face of Kyouki high above her. While most kirin had a willowy physiognomy, the kirin of Kyou was a big man.
"I have made up my mind. Okay?"
"Yes, but isn't it the Empress's duty to show compassion toward her subjects?"
Shushou snorted. "When I became empress, becoming a great humanitarian wasn't part of the deal. Sorry. Besides, you are my servant, right?"
"Yes, but . . . . "
"Then don't nitpick so. I don't want to hear any more about this Shouk
ei business. Governing the kingdom is hard enough. I haven't got any sympathy for some little fool who fiddled while her kingdom burned and utterly lacks discernment when it comes to her father."
Disheartened, the big man hung his head and continued to mope. "But that you would even consider recommending that the Marquis of Kei usurp the throne . . . . "
"Didn't think to. Recommended." Shushou plopped herself down in a chair. "So you're saying that because the Marquis of Kei killed the king, he shouldn't be the one to rule the country? Frankly, I wish the man would show a little backbone and just call himself king."
"It is Heaven who crowns the king. It's that throne you are recommending be usurped. If that comes to pass, and because of it Hou is destroyed . . . . "
Shushou rested her chin in her hands and sighed. "I really don't know what to do. Wave after wave of refugees from Hou."
"You should think about the refugees first."
Shushou poked her finger at Kyouki. "You are really such a dunce! Isn't there any room in that head of yours to consider anything other than pity? Hou is in chaos. And you're saying you don't want the Marquis to take charge and shore up the kingdom? Hou doesn't have a kirin, you know."
Kyouki glanced anxiously around the room. "Empress--"
"Don't worry, nobody's here. Of course I wasn't going to tell that to the envoy. I'm not stupid. There's no kirin on Mt. Hou. Who knows how long it will take for a new king to accede to the throne. If the people of Hou knew that, they would lose hope and the kingdom would collapse before our eyes."
There was no kirin on Mt. Hou to choose the new king. Not even Shushou knew why not. The wizardesses of Mt. Hou were the servants of God and Mt. Hou was the inviolable sanctuary of all the kings of the Twelve Kingdoms, yet no further details of the incident had been forthcoming. Three years before, an anomaly had passed through Kyou in the direction of Hou. A shoku. It was possible that this shoku had originated in the Five Sacred Mountains. When inquiries were made as to whether this was the case, it was said that all the palaces on Mt. Hou remained shut. None were open in order to welcome a new kirin.
When asked if Houki--word was, the kirin of Hou was a boy--was well and strong, not even a vague prevarication was heard in reply. Further investigation confirmed it. There was no kirin on Mt. Hou.
Shushou let out a breath. "We've got no choice but to let the Marquis get on with it. He's got a good head on his shoulders. And we don't know when a kirin will show up in Hou and chose a new king. That's why I'm trying to spur things on. You got a problem with that?"
"Empress--"
Shushou swung her feet back and forth. One of her shoes flew off. She said, "Chuutatsu brought this all upon us. It's not only his fault, but the fault of all his blockhead retainers and hangers-on who let it happen. That's why I can't stand Shoukei. Even you should be able to understand that. Now, quit crying me a river and get me my shoe and put it back on for me."
Chapter 22
"It's freezing cold."
Rangyoku's voice carried in the morning air.
The Eastern Kingdom of Kei, the city of Kokei, prefecture of Hokui, Ei Province. Kokei was located to the northwest of the capital Gyouten, located in the center of Ei Province. The road east from Gyouten reached to the Kyokai. The road west ran to the Blue Sea. From ancient times, the thriving city of Kokei, prefectural capital of Hokui, had sat at the crossroads on the road west. Consequently, the city also came to be known as Hokui.
The village was undoubtedly the nucleus of the city that had grown up around it. In this, Kokei was not exceptional. However, the city associated with the village had greatly expanded over the years, displacing the village of Kokei from its critical location on the highway. As a result, the village was attached like a small appendage to the northeast of the big city. The sign over the gates read "Kokei," but no one called it that anymore. The name of the city was Hokui, and the small bump of a town connected to it was called Kokei.
On a quiet block in a corner of Kokei, Rangyoku filled a bucket with water. Glancing around her, she could see the cold and desolate mountains rising above the high walls. Pale white frost clung to the tops of the leafless trees. The gathering clouds were heavy with precipitation.
"I wonder if it'll snow," she said to herself, and went back into the house through the rear entrance. The house was the rike, or orphanage. Rangyoku had no parents, so she had be given over to the care of the rike.
"You're up early, Rangyoku."
The old man lifted his head when Rangyoku came into the kitchen. He was putting coals into a brazier in the middle of the dirt floor. His name was Enho and he was the headmaster of the orphanage.
"Morning."
"You're a good girl, out of bed before an old'un like me. I thought for once I'd be the first one up and get everything ready, but I'm not quite there yet."
Rangyoku laughed and emptied the bucket into the tank. She liked this headmaster. She might have otherwise expected an older man like Enho to get up before her. But she knew that he was concerned that if he got up early, everybody else would feel obligated to, too. So he stayed in bed.
"Looks like snow."
"Sure does. The water was freezing cold. Come over here and get yourself warmed up."
"I'm okay," she smiled.
She lifted up the lid on the big pot sitting on the stove. Warm steam filled the room. She started to prepare breakfast. Enho put the brazier down next to the water tank. He was only thinking of her. She stirred some leftover vegetables and meat into the simmering water, along with some dumplings.
"We're getting a new child today."
Rangyoku looked back over her shoulder and Enho nodded. He meant that the rike would be taking on another orphan.
"Should I set a place for breakfast?"
"More likely this afternoon or toward evening."
"I see."
When she and Keikei had fled the city, the headmistress of the rike had been a short-tempered old woman. When they returned, the old woman had died and had been replaced. Enho was not originally from the town. She had been quite nervous hearing that a strange old man had become headmaster, but now she was quite thankful.
"G'morning." Keikei ran into the kitchen.
"Hey, Keikei, you're up early."
"The cold woke me up."
Rangyoku laughed as her brother stamped his little feet. She filled a bucket for him. Enho dropped a hot rock into the water. That plop and sizzle was the sound of winter.
"Now, wash your face and dump the water outside."
"Alrighty," Keikei said with a nod and plunged his face into the water.
Rangyoku watched him smiling. There were three other children at the orphanage, but they got up later. Since Enho never scolded them, they stayed in bed as long as they wished. The three had been living at the orphanage for a long time. Because the previous headmistress had been so strict, they took advantage of Enho a bit. Perhaps aware of it himself, Enho let them.
"Man, it's cold!" said Keikei, opening the back door and tossing the water out onto the snow. His breath puffed white in the cold air.
"Better than last year, though. There's not much snow."
Half a year had passed since the coronation of the new empress. Just as the old-timers promised, the natural disasters had mostly ceased. Last year had seen an unusual amount of snow and many of the snowed-in villages had died off.
"I wish it would snow."
The braziers were the main source of heat. On really cold days, they put a kettle on the stove and boiled water and everybody gathered around the stove and warmed themselves with the steam and body heat. Wealthy homes had fireplaces, and even wealthier homes had a system that passed hot air between the walls and under the floorboards, heating each room individually, but few families in Kei could afford it.
Few could afford even to glaze their windows with glass. Instead, the windows were shuttered and paper affixed across the inside of the frame. That would let in some sunlight while shutting out the
wind. Cotton was such a precious commodity that the futons were padded with the straw collected in the fall. As for winter clothing, it was practically impossible to get hold of fur or pelts. Charcoal for the brazier wasn't cheap, so the house was cold all the time.
Kingdoms to the north of Kei were colder, but as Kei was so much poorer it had fewer means to combat the cold. Winter in the northern quarter of Kei was particularly hard.
Nevertheless, Rangyoku liked the winter. Not only Rangyoku, so did all the children at the orphanage. Normally, from spring until fall, the people decamped to a nearby villages and hamlets, leaving the towns pretty much deserted. Only the orphans and town elders were left behind. During the winter, they all returned and would get together in big groups to spin cotton and weave baskets. That was a lot more fun.
Rangyoku took the lid off the big pot. "Keikei," she said, "go wake everybody up. It's time for breakfast."
Rangyoku was slicing steamed mochi into a bowl when suddenly she heard a scream from the courtyard. Taken aback, she looked around as Keikei came running back from the detached wing of the orphanage.
"Sis!"
"What's going on?"
It wasn't Keikei who had screamed. But then there came another cry.
"Youma!"
Enho jumped to his feet. Rangyoku put both hands to her mouth and swallowed her own scream.
"Go out the back and get to the Rishi." Enho gave the gasping Keikei a push. "Run for the cover of the riboku tree and stay there! You understand?"
"You, too, Gramps."
"I'll be along soon. Wait for me there."
Enho nodded his head at Rangyoku, urging her to go on ahead. Rangyoku bowed in turn, grabbed Keikei's hand, pushed open the back door and was about to stumble out when she heard the rustling of feathers and the sound of strong wings flapping.
She instantly stepped back and slammed the door shut. For a brief moment, she caught a glance of the sweep of its wings and the form of a tiger alighting on the ground. A kyuuki.
"Rangyoku?" Leaving the kitchen, Enho had turned back in the direction of her cry.
