by Sarah Ash
“Everyone is in need of food, warmth and shelter,” Masao said. This was not the time for lengthy explanations.
“But the tremors? The eruption?”
Masao managed a raw smile. “Can you still feel the earth shaking, Master Yoriaki? The mountain is secure. It’s safe once more.”
Behind Yoriaki he spotted bobbing lights in the distance.
“The rescue party,” Yoriaki said. “Shun the archer was worried about his sister.”
“Ah.” The word “rescue” had a very welcome sound to it. But as to how they could explain to Shun about Sakami. . .
***
Torchlight illuminated the hidden pool, splashes of flame brightening the gloom.
Kai, his arm clasped protectively around Ayaka’s shoulders, saw that Shun was in the lead, followed by several of the Black Cranes, both men and women. He never thought he’d be so glad to see the lean figure of Teiko-san striding along behind Shun, carrying her medicine pack, ready to heal the injured.
“Lord Kaito!” Shun made his way straight toward him, ignoring the Red Kites altogether. “You’re safe, my lord.”
“And never more glad to see you, Shun.” Kai said, hearing his teeth juddering as he spoke.
“Bring blankets for my lord. Hurry.” Shun waved his companions forward. “Mai, Mami; where’s that sake?”
Hiroki unwrapped rolls of blanket that he had carried on his back and handed them to Kai, then – after some silent prompting from Kai – somewhat grudgingly to Masao and Naoki.
“Hot sake is what’s needed,” said Mai, arranging sticks to make a little fire.
“Don’t set the forest alight again,” began Shun but she gave him such a withering look that he stopped. Kai, arranging the blanket around Ayaka’s shoulders, was grateful that he had not yet asked about Sakami. But next moment, Shun’s voice could be heard, crying out, “There’s a body in the water!”
Ayaka shivered and glanced up at Kai.
“Come close to the fire,” he said, steering her away from water’s edge, sitting her down deliberately with her back to the pool as Yoriaki and his shinobi waded in to drag Hotaru’s body out and respectfully cover it in a spare blanket.
“Poor devil,” he heard Yoriaki say to Masao and Naoki. “Who was he?”
“A disgraced prince of the imperial house,” Masao said, catching Kai’s eye.
“He saved my life,” Ayaka said, staring fixedly into the little blaze. “Why did he do it?”
Kai put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. “Perhaps it was his way of saying he was sorry for all the pain he had caused you.”
But we’ll have to call on Sakami – Inari – to purify the hot springs before anyone can use them again.
***
Kai took a sip of the hot sake Mami had prepared. It burned his tongue but he didn’t care; the heat and the taste were real, reminding him that his body was his own once more and no longer in thrall to Flood. It was a good feeling. He turned to Ayaka who was cradling her sake cup in both hands, quietly asking, “Are you feeling any warmer?”
She nodded, stifling another sob, and raised the sake cup, blowing on the steaming liquid to cool it.
“Where is she?” Shun’s voice, harsh with worry, rose above the general hubbub. “Where’s Sakami?”
Kai drained his sake and sighed. He still had no idea how to tell Shun what had happened to his sister.
“You promised you’d always take good care of her, my lord.” Suddenly Shun was looming over him, bristling with agitation. “Why isn’t she here?”
“Sit down, Shun, and have some sake.” Mai thrust a full cup into Shun’s hands, obliging him to drink rather than spill it. She continued to glower at him until he sat down obediently opposite Kai.
“We saw the shrine – or what was left of it. And now there’s this rock fall as well.” Shun jerked his thumb toward the cave in which Sakami had sealed Kurika. Mai knelt down beside him, her eyes bright in the firelight as she looked directly at Kai. “Sakami wasn’t trapped inside, was she?”
Kai hesitated. “No. But we owe your sister our lives. She and Honou saved us all.”
Shun leant forward. “There’s something you’re not telling us, my lord.”
Kai could not hold Shun’s earnest, imploring gaze, looking down at his empty cup. “She was called by Lady Inari to attend a harvest festival in her stead,” he said. It sounded so unconvincing even in his own ears. “She asked me to tell you that she will come to visit you very soon.”
Shun sat back. He looked crestfallen. “Well now,” he said, shaking his head. “She goes gadding off to a festival without even waiting to see her own brother. . .”
“Perhaps I could have phrased it better,” Kai said, the sake making him slur his words. He was so tired that he could have curled up on the bare stones and fallen asleep.
“Can’t you see how exhausted Lord Kaito is?” Mai turned on Shun. “Shame on you for bothering him. I’m sorry, my lord, that this great lug left his manners behind on the beach.”
Kai realized that Ayaka had been following their conversation intently.
“Your retainers speak so freely to you,” she whispered as Mai dragged Shun away.
“Do you find that shocking? Or disrespectful?”
“It’s rather refreshing,” she said, letting her head droop against his shoulder. “It also reminds me of someone. . . I know well.” He thought she’d fallen asleep but heard her whisper a name. “Reika. . .”
***
The return to Castle Kurozuro next morning was a subdued affair. Naoki dispatched Yoriaki to the capital to tell the palace officials that Hotaru was dead. And when Kai broke the news of the princess’s death to his clan, many were reduced to tears or shocked into silence.
Ayaka, her blistered and bleeding feet salved and neatly bandaged by Teiko-san, allowed herself to be carried down in an improvised chair by two of the Red Kite shinobi.
The burned forest was still wreathed in damp fog and smoke. But as they came down out of the miasma, the path afforded a sudden view of the sparkle of the sea below. Kai let out a shout, pointing to ships sailing into the bay, flying the Black Cranes’ colors.
“They’ve come home!” cried Mai. The general mood lightened a little and by the time they had reached the shore, the exiled Black Cranes were disembarking and making their way up the beach.
Ayaka watched women and children hurrying past her to welcome their returning loved ones. She felt moved by the sight of so much happiness but also rather left out and neglected. There could be no joyous homecoming for her and she had no idea what fate awaited her father. If ex-emperor Suzaku was merciful, exile was the least severe punishment he could expect for being Hotaru’s right-hand man. And to be banished from court will be the death of my poor mother. . .
And then, as she watched the people milling about on the sands, she noticed a lone figure, soberly dressed, walking through the throng, gazing around her as if trying to get her bearings.
“Reika?” Ayaka began to wave vigorously, calling out at the top of her voice, not caring who heard or saw her. “Reika! Here! I’m over here!”
Suddenly Reika spotted her and began to hurry up the beach toward her, breaking into a run. Ayaka flung her arms around her, hugging her tightly, weeping and laughing at the same time. And, to her surprise, Reika hugged her back as warmly.
“How did you know to find me here? How did you get a berth on a Black Crane ship? How did you escape Lord Kiyomori?” The questions kept coming.
“Lord Takeru,” Reika said. “Lord Kaito must have asked him to look out for your ladies-in-waiting.”
“Are they all safe?” Ayaka had been so absorbed in the whirl of events of the last hours that she had forgotten that she had been forced to abandon them.
“Ex-emperor Suzaku assured them that they would not be held responsible in any way; their only crime in Lord Kiyomori’s eyes was to be part of your household.”
“The ex-emperor is a kind-
hearted and compassionate man,” Ayaka said.
“Where is Lord Kaito?” Reika scanned the shore. “I have something for him. Master Seishi insisted I should bring it to him.”
She reached inside the cloth bag she had slung across her body and brought out Kai’s flute.
***
“So you’re Reika.” Kai looked at the young woman whose name Ayaka had murmured in her sleep. Reika looked back at him fearlessly and he had the distinct sensation that she was silently assessing him. Then she bowed and he guessed that he had passed her test.
“Welcome to Castle Kurozuro,” Kai said, “and thank you for bringing my flute. It means a great deal to me.” As he weighed the instrument in his hands, he knew what he must do. And the tide would soon be on the turn.
“Where are you going, Kai?” Ayaka called.
“To make my peace with Flood.” He walked down the beach, past the returning exiles, nodding to them in greeting, heading toward the tideline. The sea was calm within the shelter of the bay but further out he could see the white ripple of breakers beginning to build.
With the wind tousling his hair, he moistened his lips and raised the old flute, blowing a few breathy test pitches to check that it had survived the sea journey.
He had not played since his mother died and as the first notes issued, he could hear that they were tremulous and uncertain. Determined to thank Flood in the only way he knew how, he began to play “Three Cranes on the Shore,” hesitantly at first, then more fluently and confidently as the melody flowed.
It was not until he reached the fourth phrase that he realized he could hear someone singing the words of the old song. By the fifth, other voices had joined in, swelling in volume, filling the salty air. He glanced around, without stopping, and saw that the members of his clan were walking toward him, all singing their hearts out:
“Three cranes on the shore.
The first flaps its wings – a wind starts to blow.
The second flaps its wings – clouds gather overhead.
The third flaps its wings – rain begins to fall.”
Out in the bay he saw Flood approaching – but at a gentle pace – and with him, the incoming tide began to wash over the exposed sands, lapping toward their feet.
“Now the rice will grow strong and tall.
Three cranes on the shore…”
Flood’s scaly blue head broke the surface and Kai heard the singing stop, replaced by a slow, indrawn gasp of wonder.
“Thank you,” Kai said, bowing low. “Thank you, Prince Shiomitsu. I will never forget you and all that you’ve for me, your Sacrifice, and my clan.”
Flood bowed his whiskered head to acknowledge Kai’s thanks. And then he slid back beneath the waves and was soon lost from sight beneath the incoming tide.
Kai realized that his face was wet with tears. So when someone slipped a hand through his arm, he turned, startled to see Ayaka at his side.
“I wanted nothing but to be set free,” he said, “but now that I am, I feel as if I’ve lost something very important.”
“How did you know Flood would come?”
He smiled at her. “I didn’t. It was just a hunch.” He took her arm and led her up the beach as the tide lapped at their heels.
Chapter 69
Masao, warmly dressed in a spare winter tunic and hakama of Naoki’s, was saddling one of the Red Kite horses when he saw Kai enter the castle stables.
“You’re leaving us so soon?”
Masao finished checking the tightness of the stirrup straps. “Yūgiri and Kinkiyo were still under arrest when I left the capital. I have to make sure they haven’t been left to rot in the imperial dungeons.”
“Takeru has gone with Suzaku to the palace; if you need any help, ask him.” Kai put his hand on Masao’s shoulder, gazing at him with a frank, searching look. “And take care. You kept me from giving way to despair all this time. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Nor I you.” Masao, touched by the warmth of Kai’s smile, gave him an affectionate hug. “Let this mark the end of the feud between our two clans.”
“Although there’s still the small matter of the ownership of Castle Kurozuro. . .” Kai indicated the Red Kite pennants fluttering on the castle walls.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Masao returned his smile, understanding. “I’m sure my father would appreciate Naoki’s help at Castle Akatobi.” He swung himself up into the saddle and turned his mount’s head toward the main gate. “Or Naoki may even be called upon to serve the new emperor. . .”
“Masao,” Kai said suddenly, “can you still sense the changing tides?”
Masao nodded.
“Every time I sense the tide, I have to pinch myself to check that I’m still on land and in my own body.”
“Perhaps we’ll never lose that ability.” And Masao pressed his heels gently into his mount’s flanks, heading out across the courtyard.
***
The closer Masao came to the capital, the more his worries about Yūgiri began to trouble him. The events of the past days had forced him to focus all his attention on destroying Kurika, putting his personal concerns to the back of his mind. But as the lofty Southern Gate with its dragon finials loomed into view, the memories he had forced himself to ignore returned, vividly intense: Yūgiri turning to him, his face a blood-streaked mask of white, Yūgiri gritting out the words, “I – betrayed you. . .”
He had not realized the depths of Yūgiri’s desperation; he’d been so caught up in his own troubles that he’d underestimated the burden he was carrying.
Can things ever be between us as they were before? Can I ever make it up to him?
The crowded capital streets were even more difficult to negotiate than usual as the citizens were busy repairing the damage caused by Kurika’s rampage. Roofs were being mended, workmen were up and down ladders, carrying bark shingles or bundles of thatch. The sounds of sawing and hammering made Masao’s horse nervous so he dismounted and led her by the reins to the palace gates. There he was asked to show his clan mon (he had borrowed Naoki’s) to gain admittance. Inside the palace walls, it was as chaotic as the streets outside. Secretaries were running to and fro, bearing armfuls of official scrolls, followed by servants carrying trunks and caskets.
“Organized c-chaos, Lord Masao.”
Masao swung around to see Lord Takeru behind him, with his chief retainer Susumu at his side. He was glad to see a familiar face in all the confusion.
“Is Kaito – ?”
Masao saw the concern shadowing Takeru’s eyes. “He’s finally free. As am I.” Masao pushed up his sleeve to show them both his left wrist. “Thanks to Lady Inari we were both released from the Sacrifice seal. And no one from our clans will ever be forced to bear such a burden again.”
He saw Takeru turn to Susumu and both exchanged a small, jubilant smile.
“But I’ve come today to get two of my clansmen released. They were wrongfully accused by Hotaru and imprisoned. Can you help me, my lord?”
Takeru glanced at Susumu again.
“That should have been under the jurisdiction of the Minister of the Right, Lord Nagamoto,” Susumu said, “but he’s been removed from office and banished to his estates in the north. Now that young Crown Prince Norihira is the emperor-elect, his father has been named regent by Lord Kiyomori and Archbishop Gakudo.” Another triumphant smile lit his face. “Lord Kiyomori is to be his chancellor and he has revoked the order of exile imposed on us by Hotaru.”
This was better than Masao could have expected, although he began to realize that – for whatever political or strategic reason – the news of Hotaru’s death had not yet been made public knowledge. He would have to be careful not to blurt out anything sensitive.
“Lord Masao?”
Turning, surprised to have been recognized a second time in the milling crowd of courtiers and ministers, Masao saw Kobai, Hotaru’s page boy, standing behind him. His first reaction was to stare at the boy w
ith suspicion, wondering if Kobai had any idea what had become of his master.
“Would you be so good as to follow me?”
“I’ll make sure His Excellency, the new regent, knows you’re here,” Lord Takeru said as Masao hesitated, uncertain as to what to do.
“Where are we going?” Masao asked as Kobai led him out of the main Courtiers’ Hall and across a little garden, bright with vermilion-leaved miniature acers.
“To my mother, Lady Saisho.”
“But. . . I don’t think I’ve ever had the honor. . .”
They reached a pavilion and Kobai drew open a screen door, ushering Masao inside. The air was subtly perfumed, reminding Masao of walking through a spring garden. An elegantly dressed woman in immaculate court dress came forward to greet him, bowing gracefully. As she raised her head, he saw that, in spite of skillfully applied face paint, she looked frail and ill.
“You asked to see me, my lady – ?” Masao bowed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.
“Tea, Lord Masao?” She gestured to him to sit opposite her at a low table.
“Please don’t go to any trouble.”
But Lady Saisho seemed determined to be a good hostess and serve him tea; aided by Kobai, she poured hot water and whisked the green powder into the liquid, before pouring out the tea into three bowls. Masao glanced around, wondering whom the third bowl was for; and as Kobai laid out little wagashi in the shape of acorns to accompany the tea, another visitor entered the room and knelt down at the table beside Masao.
“I owe my life to this man,” said Lady Saisho.
Masao was so astonished to see Yūgiri that he almost choked on his tea.
“Yū ?”
Masao’s first instinct was to fling his arms around him – but with Lady Saisho and Kobai looking on, he could only stare, speechless. The shaman’s injured eye had been cleanly bound, the bandages neatly tucked beneath his hair which he had combed to conceal the damaged side of his face.
Confronted with the stark reality of Yūgiri’s self-inflicted injury, Masao felt a rush of conflicting emotions: guilt that he had not been quick enough to stop Yūgiri from taking such desperate action mingling with relief that he was no longer a prisoner.