by Sarah Ash
“I’m honored. . .that his imperial majesty. . .has devoted his valuable time. . .to me.”
Hotaru’s face was so close that Yūgiri could make out that, behind the thick spectacle lens, Hotaru’s left eye was also damaged, the lids red and swollen.
“So,” Yūgiri said, “even an onmyōji as powerful as you is not invulnerable. And that is the price you had to pay for using sympathetic magic.”
Hotaru’s grip tightened around Yūgiri’s face, sending needles of pain radiating through his wounds again. “Just tell me where the sword is. That’s all I need to know. Or shall I put Kinkiyo’s daughter to the question instead?”
Yūgiri flinched. I can’t endanger Beniko. Ren needs his mother. And Masao would want me to protect them at all costs.
“Well?” And Hotaru leaned in closer, expectantly.
Voices could suddenly be heard outside the room; distracted for a moment, Hotaru glanced round.
“Is his imperial majesty ready to depart?”
“Lord Nagamoto begs your majesty’s pardon but he is concerned that if we don’t start the journey to the Tide Dragon monastery soon, it will be getting dark.”
“They can’t break the barrier,” Hotaru said, turning back to Yūgiri. “No one knows you’re here. Even General Nakakuni is unaware of your whereabouts.” But Yūgiri had glimpsed a momentary hesitation.
He may be pretending to have the upper hand – and he’s giving a convincing performance – but the strain is beginning to show.
“If it please your imperial majesty,” and Yūgiri recognized Kobai’s clear voice, “is everything that you require for the festival ready to be taken to the ox-carts?”
“Yes, yes!” Hotaru cried. And then, “Wait. Is my flute there?”
After a little pause, Kobai called back, “It’s not.”
“I must have left it with Saisho.” Hotaru was muttering to himself and seemed about to leave the room. “But no matter. Kobai – run to your mother and ask her to bring it to me.”
No sooner had Kobai been dispatched than another, deeper voice announced, “Lord Naoki is asking to see you. He says he brings news about a sacred sword.”
“Very well. Show him into the audience room.”
Lord Naoki here? With news about a sacred sword? Surely he wouldn’t betray Masao now…
The surgeon’s painkilling infusion was rapidly wearing off. Trying to ignore the increasingly nagging throb, Yūgiri saw Hotaru open the sliding door that led into the outer anteroom. Just before he closed it behind him, he placed an onmyōdo paper charm to seal it; Yūgiri sensed the subtle magic, inked in ancient characters with the emperor’s own blood diffusing around the door and along the wall.
A barrier. He was trapped inside and no matter how loudly he might shout for help or call Naoki’s name, no one would hear him.
***
“General Nakakuni informs me you that have a lead as to the whereabouts of the sacred sword.” Hotaru, seated in his carved Xiang chair, gazed at Naoki across the room and Naoki could not help but notice that in spite of clever concealment behind thicker spectacle lenses – Hotaru’s left eye had suffered some kind of injury.
So his sympathetic magic took its toll when Yūgiri reversed it.
“I have. But first, I’m asking you to release Yūgiri Hisui. Or –”
“Or what, Lord Naoki?” Hotaru’s expression was difficult to read.
Naoki, desperate, already out of his depth, heard himself employ his only strategy. “Or I’ll reveal to the court what really happened to the Tide Jewels. And who ordered me to steal them.”
A chill silence filled the room. Naoki could hear birdsong through the half-open door that led into the emperor’s private inner garden court.
“So you – the thief who stole the Tide Jewels – think that your testimony will be believed by the court against my own?” The emperor leaned forward in his carved chair. “You were caught in the act of stealing the Tide Jewels and held prisoner. Abbot Genko generously agreed to pardon you of your crime. If he had not been so merciful, you would not be here today.” Hotaru’s eyes narrowed behind the thick spectacle lenses. “You are my creature, Naoki. I made you. I gave your clan back its future. But I can take it away again with one snap of my fingers. I can crush you whenever I choose.” He leaned back again. “So accuse me if you will, but be ready to suffer the consequences.”
Naoki lowered his head. He was determined not to be deterred but he had run out of options. I won’t give in so easily. I can’t.
“Then, I’m sure you’ll understand why I have to keep Yūgiri in custody until your brother Masao complies with my wishes.”
“Your wishes?”
“Tell Lord Masao that he and Lord Kaito must appear at the Autumn Moon Festival. Together. The emperor is, after all, the only one in all Cipangu who can summon both Tide Dragons at the same time.”
“And why, imperial majesty, are you giving me this message? Why do you think I can get in touch with Masao?”
Hotaru sighed, as if humoring a willful child. “You were at Kinkiyo’s forge, Naoki, when Masao fought off Kurika. There’s no point denying it. You were seen.”
“So what if I was? You ordered me to arrange a display of iron dragons. I came to the capital for that purpose – and now I hear that it’s postponed, cancelled –”
A flash of white streaked into the room through the open door to the inner garden. Naoki blinked in disbelief, seeing an elegant bird with milky plumage and long, curling tail feathers alight beside Hotaru.
Is it a carrier? Has it brought a message for him? He could see no capsule attached to its neck or slender leg. And when the bird opened its delicate beak, letting a mellifluous burst of high notes escape, he could only stare, dumbfounded.
“This audience is at an end, Naoki.” Hotaru’s tone had changed; all his attention was focused on the white bird.
Can he understand what the bird’s saying? Whatever it is, it’s obviously of more importance to him than anything I have to say to him.
The bird fell silent and its head drooped. Hotaru stroked its feathers, murmuring to it, and poured a little cup of sake which he placed in front of it.
“You haven’t given me your answer, imperial majesty.”
Hotaru turned to stare at him and Naoki suddenly knew he had gone too far. Hotaru could have him arrested with one snap of his fingers.
“And neither have you given me one single useful lead as to the whereabouts of the sword.”
Naoki hung his head.
“So it was all a bluff.” Hotaru seemed unimpressed, more interested in trying to coax the white bird to drink from the cup. “You show an unusual degree of concern for your retainers. If you truly wish to protect your clan, you will give Masao this message: ‘Bring Lord Kaito to the Autumn Moon Festival or I will have Yūgiri Hisui and Kinkiyo executed for treason.’”
***
As soon as Naoki had left, Hotaru turned to Uguisu.
“You saw Kaito and Ayaka together at the monastery?”
“Embracing,” said Uguisu. “Your wife is unfaithful. I warned you she would stray if you neglected her.”
Hotaru heard the rebuke and did not bother to defend himself. My poor, foolish Ayaka. He was more hurt by her news than he imagined he might be. Although he was not sure whether it was his pride or his feelings that were the more bruised.
“Unfaithful or not, she’s done what I’ve failed to do,” he said. “She’s found a way to communicate with Lord Kaito. And where Kaito is, Flood is never far away.”
“But that’s not all,” Uguisu said. She fell silent a moment, head drooping again.
“Uguisu,” he said, concerned. “You’ve exhausted your strength. Rest in your cage for a while.” He lifted her and gently placed her within, leaving the door open.
“You did well,” he said, gently stroking her silk-soft feathers. The prospect of the festival was not so daunting now that he knew Ayaka’s presence would entice Kai back to the shore
. All he needed was to play Lord Kurozuro’s ebony flute and he would forge a new bond between the imperial house and the Tide Dragons. And then he could dispose of Lord Kiyomori and his supporters.
He heard the door slide quietly open behind him. “Ah, there you are, Saisho,” he said, turning to greet her.
Chapter 56
Masao’s back ached from stooping to roll wooden sake barrels ashore. The wind off the Uji River gusted fresh with a slight taint of rain as he helped Tetsuo’s friend stack the barrels on to a waiting cart. He lifted his hot face to the cloudy sky, grateful for the cool of the damp breeze.
He was not yet used to being in his mortal body again. Since the Sacrifice curse had been activated, Ebb’s magic had protected him from all human needs and now even the most basic bodily functions were bizarre and unfamiliar. In a rare idle moment on board the river craft as the wind filled the sail, he had leant his arms on the oar, sensing the pulsing of the water around the vessel, and wondering if he would ever feel right in his own bones ever again.
The mooring stage was not far from Kinkiyo’s forge and, as he helped unload the last of the cargo, Masao gazed again along the bank, checking to see if Hotaru had posted guards around the site. Even from the riverside Masao could make out the fire damage inflicted by Kurika’s attack: the grass and surrounding bushes reduced to a barren cinder patch. The sight made him restless, anxious to be on his way. He made sure that the last barrel was securely wedged in place on the cart and bowed to his employer, before turning away to take the path up the river bank.
“Wait!” the man cried after him. “I could do with a strong worker like you in my crew. What d’you say, Saburo?”
Masao merely raised one hand to wave in farewell and carried on walking. And the closer he came to the half-burned forge, the more his worries intensified. There seemed to be no one about. Had Hotaru had everyone arrested? Tired as he was from the day’s physical labor, he found himself hastening his pace, then breaking into a run, making for Kinkiyo’s house.
“Hallo!” He knocked loudly. “Anyone at home?”
He was just about to try the door when it opened a crack and Raiko’s face appeared.
“Lord Masao?” The door opened wider. “Come in, my lord, and quickly. The house is being watched.”
Masao kicked off his sandals and went inside. In the gathering gloom, he saw Beniko cuddling Ren; the little boy, usually so friendly, stared up at him warily, then hid his face in his mother’s skirts.
“Welcome back, my lord,” Raiko said, with uncharacteristic deference. He bowed. “But you can’t stay here. The emperor’s men are looking for you.”
“Where’s Kinkiyo?” Masao, still not sure he recognized this new respectful Raiko.
“Kinkiyo and Yūgiri were arrested.”
“On what charge?”
“Treason.”
Masao swore under his breath. All the effort he had put into making his way back had been in vain; he had come too late.
“You look exhausted, my lord.” Beniko put Ren down and brought Masao a bowl of tea and some rice balls.
“And my brother?”
“Lord Naoki went to petition the emperor for their release. He hasn’t returned yet.” Raiko looked down at the floor, as if ashamed. “He ordered me to ride straight to Lord Toshiro if he wasn’t back by sunset. Should I go, my lord?”
The light had been fading as Masao drank his tea; as Beniko lit the lamps, he looked across at Raiko and saw the apprehension in the young retainer’s eyes.
“You have your orders, Raiko,” he said sternly.
If Raiko’s worried, then things must be bad.
Chapter 57
As the door slid softly open, Hotaru turned to greet Lady Saisho.
Kurika stood in the doorway.
“H-how did you – ?” Hotaru got to his feet.
“Shatter Uguisu’s barrier? The poor nightingale exhausted her powers and the barrier just. . .melted away.” Kurika entered the room. “And now it’s time for you to let me go. As you promised.”
Hotaru, terrified by the intent glint in Kurika’s eyes, tried to back toward the garden door but Kurika came another step closer. He was being forced into a corner from which there was no escape.
“Break the bond?” Hotaru repeated. His hand had moved without his realizing to instinctively shield the place where the Sacrifice seal now sat: above his heart.
“It was forged with the life force of the person closest to you. You sacrificed your wife, Princess Aoi and your unborn child –
“Be quiet!”
“And it can only be broken by another sacrifice. Who is closest to you now? Empress Ayaka? Your love-child, Kobai? Or could it be his mother, Lady Saisho?”
In spite of his efforts to keep his face impassive, giving nothing away, Hotaru felt himself twitch instinctively as Kurika pronounced Saisho’s name. She’s coming here with the flute. Any moment now. . .
“Or your mother’s beloved White Nightingale?”
“Hotaru!” Uguisu’s piercing screech of warning came too late.
Kurika reached in and plucked her from the cage. “You thought you could keep me under your control, Uguisu?” Slowly, smilingly, he began to twist her slender neck between his black-taloned fingers. “But you’ve grown old. Your magic isn’t as powerful as it used to be. So now I’m going to take it from you.”
Uguisu’s wings were beating frantically as breathless, strangled cries issued from her gaping beak. As Hotaru watched, horrified, Kurika let go of her and, as she made a bid to dart away, caught her again, holding her suspended by the tips of her wings.
“Don’t hurt her.” Hotaru heard himself pleading, tears of desperation welling up in his eyes. “She’s all I have left of my mother. I’ll do anything – just let her be.”
“Anything?” The cruel fiery gaze turned on him and he felt his confidence withering before it, crushed.
White Nightingale’s frantic struggles were growing weaker; snowy feathers filled the air like wind-scattered petals.
“Ho. . .ta. . .ru. . .” Her voice, once so sweet and clear, had faded to a hoarse whisper. “For. . .give me. . .”
“Anything.”
Kurika let go of Uguisu and she dropped to the floor, fractured wings splayed out like the ribs of a broken fan. Hotaru made to go to her but Kurika blocked his way.
“You’ve humiliated me once too often. Let’s reverse roles. Let’s see how you like being my servant.”
Uguisu lay still now, horribly still in contrast to her earlier frenetic struggle to escape. And before Hotaru’s horrified gaze the body of his beloved shikigami shimmered and began to disperse in wisps of white mist.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, stretching out his hands in a futile effort to hold on to her. “Uguisu. . .”
Kurika suddenly loomed very close to him, fiery eyes flickering.
“You’re sweating, my lord emperor. Why don’t you let me take control?”
“Control?” Hotaru backed a step or so away but Kurika still came on.
“You’re cracking under the stress.” Kurika’s hot breath made Hotaru’s eyes water. “Let me handle the situation.”
“Y-you?” Hotaru took another step and realized that he had retreated into the corner of the room. There was nowhere else to go. And there was a look of determination in the shikigami’s eyes that he had never seen before. Surely he can’t intend to – ? He fumbled in his sleeve for a paper charm to re-assert his mastery over Kurika but before he could, Kurika reached out and grasped him with one burning hand around the throat.
“Wh-what are you – ?” Hotaru’s words came out, half-strangled, as he desperately struggled to break free.
“Or,” Kurika said slowly, pressing his other hand against the Sacrifice seal on Hotaru’s left breast, “more accurately, I wonder how it feels to be Emperor of Cipangu.”
“You – emperor – ?” Hotaru began and then, too late, he realized what Kurika intended.
A da
rk energy flowed, crackling and searingly hot from the kami’s black-taloned fingers, penetrating Hotaru’s body.
“No!” Panic constricted his throat as he tried with trembling fingers to place an onmyōdo charm on Kurika’s arm; the paper fluttered to the ground, sizzling to gray ash as it fell.
“No. . .” He felt the kami’s will invading his mind and his hands dropped away uselessly to his sides. Kurika was merging with him and even though he resisted with all his strength, the slow, relentless invasion continued despite all his struggles.
“There’s nothing you can do to stop me,” whispered the dry, smoky voice but now it came from within his own mind. His consciousness was retreating, cowering away from the invader.
“But I was the one who set you free. There’s always been this bond between us. I was the only one who heard your cries. . .” Hotaru could not believe that Kurika – his creature, his shikigami – would betray him. “Does that mean nothing to you? Don’t you owe me anything?”
“I’ve repaid my debt to you ten times over,” Kurika’s voice said but now Hotaru heard the words issuing from his own mouth. “If this is the only way to break the Sacrifice bond you’ve made me endure, then this is how it has to be.”
“Majesty?” The inner screen was pushed open and Lady Saisho appeared, dutifully kneeling at the entrance. She was carrying the ebony flute.
“Go away, Saisho!” Hotaru cried. “Run!” But he realized that she could not hear him; Kurika had even taken control of his voice.
He saw her glance up as, under Kurika’s control, he lurched toward her, moving awkwardly at first then, as the shikigami gained mastery, with greater fluency.
“Your timing is excellent,” he heard Kurika say, the words issuing from his mouth as he offered a hand to help her inside. Hotaru saw Saisho glance up into his face, hesitating, her expression puzzled. Had she noticed the change?
Don’t let him touch you, Saisho! His fear for her was so overwhelming that he was sure she must be able to sense his desperate warning.
“I’ve brought the flute, as you requested,” she said, a slight note of uncertainty in her voice. “But are you feeling unwell, majesty? Should I call the ministers and ask them to cancel the arrangements?”