by Sarah Ash
“Reika, give the child a coin,” ordered the princess.
Reika jumped down to collect the flowers and gave the girl her reward. Ayaka took the flowers and waved her thanks as the carriage trundled on.
“What an intriguing choice of meadow flowers,” Princess Omiya said as Ayaka showed her the child’s gift. “Let’s hope they’re an omen of good fortune.”
“The sea is calm, and the weather is good, with no hint of any storms or typhoons,” said Lord Nagamoto, absently waving a hand to acknowledge the villagers’ bows. “But there’s still been no official confirmation from Abbot Genko as to whether Kakumyo has recovered the missing jewels or not. I can only assume that he has been successful – otherwise they would have to postpone the festival.”
“Postpone the festival?” Ayaka was horrified at the thought. “But what about my dance? I’ve – we’ve,” she corrected herself, “worked so hard.”
Chapter 38
Ayaka was so excited about performing her role that she had hardly slept all night. And as if her restlessness were not enough to have to endure, the constant background noise made it difficult to relax. The members of the imperial court, displaced from the palace and the luxuries of their mansions in the capital, found it difficult to adapt to camping within the monastery grounds, in spite of the luxurious tents erected to shelter them. Servants ran to and fro at all hours, doing their best to make their fractious masters and mistresses comfortable. Little complaints such as, “I can’t possibly sleep on the ground, even for one night!” and “I always drink jasmine tea at this hour; go and make some for me” could be heard issuing from her mother’s end of the tent.
As soon as the first rays of sun could be seen through the canvas, Ayaka got up. Reika, who had been sleeping at the foot of her futon, raised her head.
“I’m just going to get some fresh air; you don’t need to come,” Ayaka whispered, carrying her sandals to the tent entrance. As she stopped to slip her feet into the sandals, she realized that Reika was right behind her. “Reika – ” she began in annoyance, but her maid shook her head, one finger on her lips, the other pointing to where her parents lay asleep.
“There are too many people around, even at this early hour,” Reika said as they emerged into the sparkling morning. She was right, but Ayaka pulled a fed-up face anyway. Imperial servants were already busy drawing water and preparing food; the smoke from cooking fires drifted across the grounds.
“It’s going to be a fine day.” Reika stretched her arms high above her head. “That has to be a good omen. Rain clouds would have spoiled the festival for everyone.”
“Two years ago it poured, remember? The emperor’s robes were soaked and my father caught a cold; he sneezed for two whole days afterwards.”
“I remember.” And the usually imperturbable Reika even smiled at the recollection.
Ayaka suddenly spotted a familiar figure on top of the monastery gatehouse. But what was he doing? She could see a flutter of white wings about his head.
“Isn’t that Prince Hotaru? He must be an early riser, too.”
Reika followed her gaze. “Looks as if he has a soft spot for the monastery doves.”
As Ayaka shaded her eyes with both hands against the sunlight, she saw one of the white birds that had been perching on his wrist launch itself into the air and fly away toward the rice fields.
What a kind-hearted man he truly is, she thought fondly.
***
Ayaka had never been invited to meet Abbot Genko before. In spite of dressing exactly as instructed by her mother, with a demure headdress covering much of her face, she felt a little apprehensive as, clutching a donation for the monastery, she was shown into the hall where he greeted visitors. She knelt before him and bowed her head.
“Welcome, Lady Ayaka,” she heard the abbot say, and as she looked up she saw to her surprise that he was smiling. “I hear that you are to dance the role of the First Empress this year.” She had always imagined him to be remote and unapproachable, his mind too occupied with matters of the spirit to deign to indulge in small talk. “You’ll take tea with me later, I hope?”
“Abbot Genko makes the most divine-tasting tea,” said the princess.
“You flatter me, your highness,” said the abbot, still smiling benignly.
“My daughter is now contracted to marry Lord Kaito,” continued the princess brightly. “We wondered if you would be so good as to ask him to meet us before the festival begins.”
Ayaka cringed, lowering her head so that she could hide her face behind the concealing headdress and wishing that her mother would be a little less forthright.
“Ah.” The abbot hesitated. “That could be a little difficult. Lord Kaito is visiting the family estate at the moment and we have not yet heard when he intends to return.”
Yes! Ayaka kept her head down.
“Oh, how unfortunate,” said her mother. “Then it’s possible that he hasn’t even received the news of the new marriage contract from the Bureau of Divination? It was sent here.”
“Ah,” said the abbot again. “That could indeed be the case.”
Perhaps there’s still a chance to get out of the contract? Ayaka raised her head and said boldly, “We’ve never even met. Suppose Lord Kaito doesn’t want to marry me?”
Her question was greeted with a shocked silence. Ayaka could feel her mother’s furious look burning into her, strong as a ray of midday sunshine.
The abbot gave a mild little laugh. “Lord Kaito – or Kaishin as he’s called in the monastery – is a good-natured and likeable young man. I’m sure he will be delighted at the prospect of marrying such a charming young lady.”
Outside in the courtyard, Princess Omiya turned on Ayaka. “How could you embarrass me like that? Asking such a forthright question in front of the abbot. I was mortified! What must he think of me, to have raised such an outspoken daughter?”
“But it’s possible, isn’t it?” Ayaka was not going to be daunted by her mother’s indignant response. “Really, Mother, anyone would think you wanted to be rid of me!”
“It’s a mother’s greatest wish to see her only daughter happily settled and producing grandchildren,” retorted the princess, leaving Ayaka speechless.
***
“I do hope the emperor isn’t sickening the day before the festival,” Princess Omiya observed when they eventually returned to their tent.
“Sickening?” Lord Nagamoto echoed, looking up over the top of an official dispatch that had just been delivered. “What makes you think he’s unwell?”
“I didn’t say he was unwell, just that he didn’t seem his usual self at the abbot’s tea ceremony today.”
“I must say I didn’t notice any difference.” Lord Nagamoto returned to reading the dispatch.
“Oh, you men are all alike.” The princess began to fan herself vigorously. “You have no sensitivity in these matters. Both I and Princess Kumoi noticed that he was looking peaky. He’s usually such an animated conversationalist; his opinions on the latest perfume or book of poetry are always diverting and pertinent. But today he hardly contributed a word to our discussion.”
“I wish that he would take more of an interest in affairs of state than poetry or perfume,” Ayaka heard her father mutter darkly.
“Hush, dear!” The princess tapped him sharply with her fan. “You never know who might be listening. These tent walls are so thin.”
“The emperor’s probably worrying about officiating at the festival,” suggested Ayaka as her parents glowered at each other. “I know that I’m already feeling quite nervous.” She pressed one hand over her heart, which had begun to flutter at the thought of performing before the whole court the next day. “Suppose I make a mistake? Suppose – ”
“Your highness.” Reika appeared. “Kobai is here with a message from Prince Hotaru.”
Ayaka instantly recognized the page; with his flawless pale skin and haughty dark eyes, he was the beautiful boy the prince had sent b
efore.
“A gift for the young lady who is to dance the role of the First Empress,” he announced, bowing as he presented Ayaka with an exquisitely wrapped little packet, “with my master’s good wishes for the performance tomorrow.”
“Another gift from the prince?” Ayaka’s father raised one eyebrow at her mother. “Even though you’re promised to Lord Kaito?”
Ayaka was eagerly opening the packet of delicate petal paper. A little note fell out and she picked it up and read it, almost breathless with excitement:
“‘It’s said that of all the summer flowers Empress Himiko liked orange blossom the best, so I thought this would add a touch of authenticity to your costume tomorrow’.”
“Isn’t it pretty?” She showed her parents a hair decoration cleverly fashioned to look like a little spray of orange blossom: the petals of each flower were enameled in white and the tiny stamens were real gold.
“What an original notion,” said the princess, clasping her hands together, “and such delicate craftsmanship. The prince really seems to have developed an interest in you, Ayaka.”
“But what’s the use if I have to marry into the Crane clan?” Ayaka burst out.
“The prince would make an excellent patron, my dear, but he knows very well that you’re already spoken for. Besides,” and her mother lowered her voice, covering her mouth with her fan as if others might be listening, “it’s said that he took a secret vow never to marry again after Princess Aoi died.”
Why did her mother have to dash cold water on her most cherished dreams? “Just because you and Princess Asagao used to be best friends,” she burst out, “it doesn’t mean I have to marry her crippled son – ”
“Ayaka! I think you’d better go to your room to cool that temper of yours,” said her mother, fixing her with a forbidding look.
Alone in her silk-draped compartment of the tent, Ayaka took out her ink stone and brush. She had brought some delicately perfumed violet paper to the monastery for just such an occasion, and began to compose a suitably grateful yet elegant reply to the prince’s note, taking care to form her brushstrokes with the greatest artistry she could manage.
Before the ink had dried, she had decided that she would deliver the letter herself. In her Pillow Book Lady Ukifune related how she had disguised herself as a servant to pay a clandestine visit to her lover…with the most satisfying results. Ayaka blushed as she remembered reading the passage; indeed, whole sentences appeared to have lodged themselves in her memory, and they were all couched in the most shocking yet erotically charged language.
I just have to wait for dusk…
***
The sun was blazing down on the rice fields as Naoki took shelter beneath an old mulberry tree. Even the peasants had stopped work to take refreshment in the shade. From here he could see the monastery walls and the pagoda tower of the temple within, its gilded dragon finials glittering in the fierce noon light. He had come close enough to make out the small city of brightly colored tents that had sprung up outside the walls, like a field of flowers: violet, plum red, grass green, and flax blue. Emperor Suzaku’s courtiers loved to indulge in displays of their aesthetic tastes.
‘Until sunset,’ Kurika had told him and there was still half a day to go.
“I’m here, your highness,” he said under his breath. “But how am I to fulfill the last part of our bargain?”
Like the rest of his banished clan, Naoki had been forbidden to attend the Tide Festival for the past seven years, so his memories were a little hazy as to what actually happened. He could recall chattering crowds of people thronging the shore, music skirling into the air as court dancers re-enacted the First Empress’s encounter with the Tide Dragons, and then the moment when the crowds fell silent as the emperor led the procession down to the sea…
A feathery flutter of wings made him glance up; a white dove had alighted on a branch overhead. Next moment it flew down and perched on his arm. Startled, he was about to shoo it away when, in a sudden shiver, it dissolved in a puff of feathers, leaving a message inscribed on a sheet of paper.
Meet me in the abbot’s garden after moonrise tonight. Use the fishermen’s path – but be careful; there are warrior monks on patrol everywhere. Don’t draw attention to yourself.
The fishermen’s path? The same way that he and Masao had come that night, stealthily climbing the narrow zigzag path from the shore where they had landed.
And as for the warrior monks on patrol? Naoki let out a dry laugh. I wouldn’t expect any less from you, Captain Kakumyo.
With the Shadow skill still pumping through his veins, he felt frustration building at having to wait for night to come. He had no idea how long this heady rush of energy would last – or how he would feel when it finally petered out. Without Yūgiri or his father to restore him, he could be heading for a sudden catastrophic collapse. Best to go down to the shore now before his strength deserted him… there were sea caves in the cliffs in which he could hide and rest until dusk.
As he skimmed down toward the beach, he spotted two of Kakumyo’s warrior monks keeping guard over the sea gate which led from the monastery onto the winding cliff path. That was the way the festival procession would come the following day after the celebration had taken place in the temple; monks, court nobles, villagers, and musicians, all following Emperor Suzaku as he went down to renew the bond between the imperial family and the Tide Dragons.
Except the Tide Jewels you’ll be carrying will be fakes, imperial majesty, and your ineffectual reign will be over.
Naoki had never taken much interest in politics until Prince Hotaru had approached him. To him the emperor was just a figurehead for the regime that had treated him and his family unjustly. But even on Akatobi Island, he had heard the rumors that Suzaku was proving a disappointment as ruler, more interested in indulging his passion for poetry and art than in matters of state.
Making sure he kept well out of sight, he flitted beneath the cliffs, heading for the rocky inlet where he and Masao had concealed their little boat the night they had stolen the jewels.
No one was around. Cormorants were diving for fish off the end of a narrow spur of rock; the sunlight struck azure glints in their sleek black plumage.
Masao. Coming back to this place stirred up painful feelings he had been trying to suppress. His father’s revelation had hurt him more than he imagined. How could you have betrayed my mother, Father? She loved you so dearly. Every time she spoke of you, her eyes shone. Did she know? By Ryūjin, I hope no one told her the truth and she died with that trust unbroken.
Naoki clambered over the rocks that were slick and slippery with algae and seaweed.
But as for you, brother, I still can’t forgive you for abandoning me.
He hadn’t seen the hidden inlet since the night they had rowed in under cover of twilight. It had been empty, except for the wheeling gulls high overhead and the cormorants. He and Masao had helped their fishermen accomplices to hide their little boat before setting off on their mission to break into the monastery. He’d been so fired up that he’d not even considered the possibility of failure.
Perhaps I still don’t want to admit the truth to myself. I was the one whose Kite Shadow failed that night. As he made that last, fateful leap to clear the monastery roof, he’d been lagging behind Masao, already tiring with the effort of sustaining the jutsu. But now I’m stronger than you’ll ever be. And soon I’ll be free of this Sacrifice curse too.
He took out the Ebb Jewel, feeling it warm from the heat of his body, watching it glimmer in his open palm. In the hazy sunlight, it looked as if it was filled with pearlescent tide foam that frothed around the single pale flame burning faintly at its core.
How can my life be held in forfeit to a jewel of such exquisite beauty?
Yet when he checked the underside of his left wrist, the Ebb Dragon tattoo had become so indistinct that he could hardly see it. And when he ran one finger over the surface, even its contours were no longer raised.
It’s fading. When I took the Tide Jewels yesterday, all the colors lit up and my wrist throbbed as fiercely as if a bee had stung me. But that was before…before I used the Flame Feather jutsu.
He heard men’s voices calling out in the distance, faint against the splash of the tide and the cries of the cormorants. He edged back into the shade of the rocks, scanning the shore, to see fishermen hauling their boats up the beach.
Best stay out of sight until they’ve gone. Must stay awake… His head started to droop and he jerked awake. I’ll count cormorants…
***
“Naoki. Naoki. Naoki…”
Naoki stands on the empty shore, gazing around to see who is calling his name so insistently. The tide suddenly begins to recede, as if being sucked far out to sea. The whole beach is laid bare, a vast expanse of wet sand and shingle.
A feel of mortal panic, raw and visceral, possesses him. Every instinct screams to him to run away.
Am I dreaming? If so, why can’t I wake up?
And then he sees him: a pale-haired figure, walking slowly, purposefully, toward him from the distant shimmer of seawater on the horizon. His long hair floats around him as white as sea-bleached bone – and yet his determined, relentless stride is that of a vigorous young man. All the while, the tide hovers far behind him, as if frozen in time.
“Don’t you know me, Naoki?”
The one who draws back the tide.
“Ebb,” Naoki says beneath his breath. “Prince Shiohiru.” The panic increases, a choking, fluttering sensation that threatens to unman him. He’s come to claim my soul.
“Why have you broken our bond, Naoki?” With every stride, Shiohiru is drawing closer. “You were my Seal Sacrifice. Have you forgotten me? And the promise you made to me at the temple?” Shiohiru’s voice, though grave in tone, resonates through every cell of his body. Sea-green eyes stare at him.
“Forgotten you?” Naoki expected anger, accusation…but not regret.