Emperor of the Fireflies

by Sarah Ash

  “So soon?” Masao asked, bewildered. “But why?”

  “He’s been forced into it. We’ve heard from your father that the Kiyomori clan has challenged Hotaru in front of the whole court. If he can’t summon the Tide Dragons at the festival, he’ll forfeit his right to remain emperor.”

  “Forfeit the throne?” Masao could not help letting out a scornful snort. “After he put so much effort into stealing it from his brother?”

  “So you’ve got to be on your guard. At all times. Don’t risk coming on shore. Stay as far out at sea as you can. Because if he’s found a way to force you to obey him – or even created two new Tide Jewels, he’ll make you his shikigami.”

  “His shikigami? You mean he plans to enslave Kai and me, like Kurika?” The full implications of Yūgiri’s warning began to make sense to Masao. “But that would mean we could never leave the sea. We’d be trapped for years, centuries, just like our ancestors.” He tried to control the sense of panic that had made his voice begin to tremble. I’ve endured all these days and nights, just as Kai has, in the hope that we can find a way to return to land and break the Sacrifice seal. He heard himself say in a distant, toneless voice, “I’d rather die.”

  “Don’t give up hope yet.” Yūgiri’s face was in shadow so Masao could not see his expression. “Sakami has collected the pieces of Inari’s sacred sword.”

  “But that’s – that’s wonderful news.”

  “She’s taken them to Kinkiyo. We can only hope now that he has the skill to reforge the blade before the Autumn Moon Festival takes place. Then we’ll ask Lady Inari to fulfill her promise to Lord Kaito.” And with that, Yūgiri bowed formally, turned and began to walk away before Masao could reply.

  “Wait, Yū.” Masao, baffled by his coldness, stood there, bereft. “Is that all you have to say to me? After we’ve been apart so long?” When Yūgiri did not reply or even turn back, Masao went after him, hurrying across the damp sand. Catching hold of him by the shoulders, he hugged him close.

  So long since I felt the warmth of another human’s body. Masao tightened his arms, crushing Yūgiri against him, breathing in the faint clove scent of his hair, lost in the intensity of the sensation: the familiar thud of his heart beating so close to his own. For a moment, Yūgiri relaxed against him, resting his head against Masao’s shoulder.

  And then he felt Yūgiri try to pull away.

  “No, Masao. Let me go.” The shaman’s voice had a hard edge to it that Masao had never heard before. “We can’t do this. We can’t be together.”

  “Why not? When we’ve been apart for so long?” Hurt, bewildered, Masao couldn’t understand why the shaman had begun to struggle.

  “Look at me.”

  Masao, still gripping him by the shoulders, gazed into Yūgiri’s upturned face as the filmy clouds drifted away from the face of the moon.

  “Don’t you remember what he did to me? Look into my eyes.”

  Masao looked. The sight of the blood-red marks of Hotaru’s malevolent spell staining the crystal purity of Yūgiri’s eyes made his stomach crawl. Anger began to burn in the pit of his stomach.

  “Hotaru’s using me. To get to you, Masao. To track you down. So we can’t –” Yūgiri’s voice broke and he turned his head away. “You must go. He may already have sent one of his shikigami. Even now he may be watching us.”

  A tremor passed through Masao’s body as the Ebb Dragon tattoo lit up on the inside of his wrist, glowing in the gloom as if his blood were on fire.

  It can’t be time already.

  “What’s happening?” Yūgiri was staring at the gleaming motif in astonishment.

  “What happens every day, every night. The tide’s already on the turn again.” Masao could feel the slow, inexorable pull of the ebb-tide drawing him back toward the sea, whether he wished it or no. “And we’ve had so little time together.” There was so much he wanted to ask Yūgiri, so much he needed to share with him. “Help us, Yū.” He seized the shaman’s hands, pressing them against the Sacrifice tattoo which had already begun to throb in warning. “Do all you can to get Kinkiyo to reforge the sword. If you need money, I’ll bring funds, treasure from under the sea. But just help us escape this bond before it destroys us.”

  “Even though I’m Hotaru’s creature? He’ll use me to betray you if he can –”

  “You betray me?” Masao heard the bitterness in the shaman’s voice and it angered him even more to imagine the suffering he must be enduring. He tightened his grip around Yūgiri’s hands, not wanting to let him go. “I know you better than that.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to help.” Sea-green light was leaking out between Yūgiri’s fingers which were still pressed against the radiant tattoo on his wrist. The shaman gazed up at him in the waning moonlight. “But,” he said tonelessly, “we mustn’t meet again.”

  Chapter 24

  “If your imperial majesty would just hold your arms out so. . .”

  Hotaru stifled a sigh and did as the Master of the Imperial Wardrobe bade him. Two trusted gentlemen lifted the heavy black silk ceremonial robes embroidered with gold and ochre chrysanthemums, slid them on and arranged them so that he could walk with the folds trailing splendidly behind him. As they fussed about him, he stood as patiently as he could, wondering why he found all the preparations for the Chrysanthemum Festival that marked the start of autumn so irksome.

  Isn’t this what I’d dreamed of for so long? To be the favored one, instead of Suzaku?

  The Master of the Wardrobe made one final adjustment, then clapped his hands for his assistants to hold up a mirror. But all Hotaru saw in his reflection were the frown marks creasing his once-smooth brow.

  I’ve worked so hard to achieve my ambitions. . . so why can’t I relax and just enjoy being the centre of attention?

  ***

  “Are you all right, Ayaka?” whispered Princess Omiya to her daughter behind her open fan, a new one, painted with a spray of bronze chrysanthemums. “You’ve been very quiet.”

  “I’m just a little tired,” Ayaka said listlessly.

  “Tired?” Her mother stopped. “My dear child, you’re not –”

  “No, Mother, I’m not pregnant,” Ayaka said, only too aware that the courtiers were watching them as they slowly walked around the palace flower beds to admire the special displays on show for the Chrysanthemum Festival. Not so long ago she had longed to be the centre of attention but now she felt distinctly uneasy, as if people were whispering behind their fans as she processed with only her mother for company, the other ladies of lesser rank trailing behind.

  “Well, it’s early days yet, you’ve only been married a few weeks.”

  How could I possibly be pregnant? I’ve hardly seen Hotaru recently. Ayaka could not help but let out a small, disappointed sigh.

  “What a shame that the emperor was called away. He’d barely glanced at these magnificent blooms before he had to leave. Oh, look at this purple variety here,” exclaimed the princess. “What an exquisitely rich shade. My congratulations,” she said to the chief gardener who was standing modestly by. “What are you calling it?”

  “Autumn Dusk, your highness.”

  “Such a pretty name – and so apt. Don’t you agree, Empress?”

  “Oh yes,” Ayaka said, although in truth she was thinking about her absent husband. Hotaru enjoyed the flower festivals, often composing poems about the new blooms to delight the courtiers – not to mention the court gardeners. It must be a serious matter for him to have to leave the festival to attend to it .

  Servants appeared, offering dishes of cakes and festival wine.

  “And how do you find Ochiba-san?” the princess asked as she took a sip from the cup of plum wine sprinkled with chrysanthemum petals.

  Ayaka was nibbling on a little cake shaped like a flower. “Very efficient,” she said.

  “What more could one ask for in a maid?” Her mother smiled at her as if to say ‘This conversation is at an end’ and turned to put down
her wine. “Oh look, there’s Lady Hyobu!” she cried and just was about to dart off when Ayaka said to her in a low voice, “How is Reika, Mother? Is she all right?”

  “Goodness, my dear, I didn’t come to the festival to discuss the health of the servants.” And with that, the princess glided swiftly away to greet her friend before Ayaka could protest.

  ***

  “Forgive me, imperial majesty, for spoiling your enjoyment of the festival,” said Lord Nagamoto as the two men left the imperial gardens, closely shadowed by the emperor’s bodyguards, “but I’ve received some rather disquieting information this morning.”

  Hotaru beckoned to the Minister of the Right to follow him into his private rooms.

  “See to it that we’re not disturbed,” he said to the imperial guards. Once inside, he turned to Ayaka’s father and said, “You can speak freely here.”

  Lord Nagamoto glanced around uneasily. The festively decorative sprig of yellow chrysanthemums in his black hat of office contrasted oddly with his troubled expression. “You’re certain?” he said with uncharacteristic wariness. “Well then – you must be aware that Lord Kiyomori has been becoming more and more strident in his opposition to you. Now I have evidence that he’s been stirring up his clan to mount a challenge to your majesty’s right to the throne.”

  While Hotaru had been expecting something of the sort, this was still unwelcome news. “And your evidence?” he asked, willing himself not to react too hastily.

  “It seems that Lord Kiyomori has been spending a considerable amount on new weapons and armor for his clan warriors.”

  “And his reasons?”

  “To defend his lands and property from some troublesome bandits,” Lord Nagamoto said, one brow rising skeptically.

  “There’s no law against taking measures to protect oneself.”

  “But then we intercepted this message he sent to your brother on Akatobi Island.” Lord Nagamoto slid a little scroll from inside his sleeve and handed it to Hotaru:

  ‘A harsh wind of discontent is stirring the trees in the forest, and the wings of the cranes will fan the flames from which the phoenix will rise once more.’

  “The forest?” Hotaru handed the scroll back. “A rather unsubtle reference to the minister’s family and clan, don’t you think? Can we be sure this isn’t just some malicious slander?”

  “It is always possible that this is the work of someone with a grudge against the Kiyomori Clan. Someone who deliberately wishes to tarnish their name.”

  “And I take it the phoenix refers to my brother?”

  “So it seems.”

  “This is a copy? You made sure that the original reached my brother?”

  “But of course.” Lord Nagamoto sounded a little offended. “My agents are very experienced. They know how important it is to keep the target unaware that they are under surveillance.”

  “Of course they do.” Hotaru smiled. Did you have me under surveillance too, I wonder, Father-in-Law? “And the reference to the cranes?”

  “It seems that the Minister of the Left has also been in communication with Princess Asagao of the Black Cranes.”

  “Lord Kaito’s mother?”

  “I suspect they may be planning some kind of coup to restore your brother to the throne.”

  Hotaru felt a brief flicker of panic but dismissed it, determined not to suspect the worst. “It’s too soon to make a move. We need more evidence before we can crush these rebels.”

  “Perhaps it would have been wise not to punish the Black Cranes so severely. After all, it was only Lord Kaito who attacked you.”

  “Severely, Lord Nagamoto?” Hotaru looked at the minister, aware that his father-in-law was politely reproaching him. “I’ve been merciful. My late father would have not hesitated to have all of Lord Kaito’s family executed.”

  “Too true.” Lord Nagamoto nodded, setting the yellow chrysanthemums bobbing.

  “And there is still no news of Lord Kaito?”

  “One or two rumors – unfounded so far – that Lord Kaito was seen on Akatobi Island.”

  Hotaru leaned forward. “Who’s seen him?”

  “One or two of the retainers serving your brother are still in my pay. And as your brother and the princess are obliged to share Lord Toshiro’s house, talk travels fast among the servants. And it’s said he was glimpsed talking to his squire, young Iwasaki no Susumu.”

  “I need to know as soon as possible if he’s seen there again.”

  “I’ll inform my agents straight away,” said Lord Nagamoto, retreating backward and bowing at the same time.

  “It’s already begun,” said a soft voice as soon as Lord Nagamoto had gone. Hotaru turned to see Uguisu watching him from her cage.

  “So it seems.” Suddenly he felt exhausted and sank to his knees, weighed down by the news Lord Nagamoto had brought. There’s never a moment when I can relax my guard.

  “I can fly to Akatobi Island and listen to what’s being discussed among the Black Cranes. No one will pay much attention to a little white bird.”

  “It’s a long way, Uguisu. Do you have the strength?” Hotaru was sorely tempted to use her, especially as she had volunteered of her own accord. But there will be consequences. As one of my shikigami she will need to draw extra life force from me. And I’ve already exhausted too much energy on keeping Kurika under control.

  “Is it that much further than the Tide Dragon monastery?” She twirled around on her perch. “Use me, Hotaru. I can tell you’re fretting that your brother is plotting with the Black Cranes to reclaim the throne. Let me be your spy.”

  ***

  It was late and Ayaka kept nodding off, while trying to read a “spiritually inspiring and insightful account of a pilgrimage to the northern islands” which her mother had insisted she would find both enjoyable and enlightening. “And much more suitable reading material for a young woman than that scandalous Pillow Book.”

  Hotaru had not come once to her bed since the coronation. He had been so busy with affairs of state that he often sent word not to wait up for him. She sighed, closing the scroll. And it looks as if tonight will be the same again. . .

  She had dismissed Ochiba and the other maids a while ago and even though she knew they were only sleeping in the next room, she felt more at ease without her new lady-in-waiting’s constant, watchful presence.

  Why do I always feel as if she’s looking down her nose at me, waiting for me to make some foolish mistake in court protocol?

  She rose and began to pace.

  If only I could sleep. But I’ll just lie awake, listening for his footfall outside, hoping.

  She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but the truth was she was bored. Horribly bored. In a short while she had gone from a carefree life as the only daughter of a respected minister, to virtual imprisonment in the empress’s wing of the palace.

  A cloistered nun has more freedom than I have!

  Yes, she was pampered and well-fed, but since Reika had been sent back to her mother’s household, there was no one to confide in, no one with whom she could share a joke or even – gods forbid! – make an impertinent comment about the other courtiers.

  Past empresses had created their own exclusive circle of friends: artists, poets, and musicians. The idea appealed – but where to start? The truth was that without Hotaru she was nothing, a nobody, looked down on by the other courtiers who resented her for taking precedence over their daughters.

  “Hotaru,” she whispered, missing him. Was he missing her too as he tried to catch up with the backlog of official documents requiring the imperial seal?

  I’ll surprise him. The idea of sneaking through the dark corridors and into the emperor’s official rooms was a delightful one (even if Lady Ukifune had already thought of it first and described it in wittily titillating terms in the Second Scroll of the Pillow Book.)

  Anything rather than waiting here alone for another interminably boring night.

  ***

  The
hesitant sounds of an amateur flute-player echoed through the empty corridors of the palace where only the members of the imperial guard stood on watch.

  Ayaka stopped to listen. The breathy notes were issuing from the emperor’s rooms.

  Is he teaching himself to play Lord Kaito’s flute?

  At first the thought was so absurd that she almost burst out laughing. And then she began to wonder why he would want to do so. Unless it could be to surprise me?

  She crept closer – and almost let out a cry as a figure suddenly appeared out of the shadows to bar her way.

  “Oh, it’s only you, Kobai.” None of the imperial guard had dared to stop her since she left her rooms – but now, to her frustration, her husband’s page boy Kobai – the very one who had been their go-between, carrying their poems and love letters – was standing in front of the door, one finger pressed to his lips.

  The flute notes broke off and Ayaka heard a woman’s voice inside, gently chiding.

  “Let me adjust your fingers, imperial highness. . .”

  My husband is receiving flute lessons from a woman? Ayaka began to imagine exactly how the unseen woman must be touching Hotaru’s fingers with her own, moving them, leaning intimately close. . .

  “Who is that with the emperor, Kobai?” she said in a sharp whisper.

  Kobai’s dark eyes showed no flicker of emotion. “I’m not permitted to say.”

  Ayaka’s first instinct was to push past him, sweep open the sliding door, and see for herself. But if she had learned anything in the last few weeks in the palace, it was not to rush heedlessly into situations that would then prove difficult and painful to resolve. And as she was hesitating, a delicate flute phrase floated out from the room.

  “Now you,” said the unseen woman and Ayaka heard a breathy attempt to copy the phrase that ended with apologetic laughter from a voice that was unmistakably Hotaru’s.

  “I fear I’m a poor student,” he said. “I haven’t touched the flute since I was a child.”

  “If you wish to become as proficient a musician as you are a poet,” replied the woman, joining in the laughter in a charmingly intimate way, “then you will have to apply yourself, dear Hotaru. Or I may have to punish my lazy student.”