by Lian Hearn
Kikuta hissed through his teeth. “That’s best forgotten,” he said. “Takeo will do for the time being, though it’s never been a Tribe name. Do you know who I am?”
“No,” I said, though I had a very good idea.
“No, master.” The young guard couldn’t help the whispered reproof.
Kikuta smiled. “Did you not teach him manners, Kenji?”
“Courtesy is for those who deserve it,” I said.
“You will learn that I do deserve it. I am the head of your family, Kikuta Kotaro, first cousin to your father.”
“I never knew my father, and I have never used his name.”
“But you are stamped with Kikuta traits: the sharpness of hearing, artistic ability, all the other talents we know you have in abundance, as well as the line on your palms. These are things you can’t deny.”
From away in the distance came a faint sound, a tap at the front door of the shop below. I heard someone slide the door open and speak, an unimportant conversation about wine. Kikuta’s head had also turned slightly. I felt something: the beginnings of recognition.
“Do you hear everything?” I said.
“Not as much as you. It fades with age. But pretty well everything.”
“At Terayama, the young man there, the monk, said, ‘Like a dog.’ ” A bitter note crept into my voice. “ ‘Useful to your masters,’ he said. Is that why you kidnapped me, because I will be useful to you?”
“It’s not a question of being useful,” he said. “It’s a matter of being born into the Tribe. This is where you belong. You would still belong if you had no talents at all, and if you had all the talents in the world, but were not born into the Tribe, you could never belong and we would have no interest in you. As it is, your father was Kikuta: You are Kikuta.”
“I have no choice?”
He smiled again. “It’s not something you choose, any more than you chose to have sharp hearing.”
This man was calming me in some way as I had calmed horses: by understanding my nature. I had never met anyone before who knew what it was like to be Kikuta. I could feel it exerting an attraction on me.
“Suppose I accept that; what will you do with me?”
“Find you somewhere safe, in another province, away from the Tohan, while you finish your training.”
“I don’t want any more training. I am done with teachers!”
“Muto Kenji was sent to Hagi because of his long-standing friendship with Shigeru. He has taught you a lot, but Kikuta should be taught by Kikuta.”
I was no longer listening. “Friendship? He deceived and betrayed him!”
Kikuta’s voice went quiet. “You have great skills, Takeo, and no one’s doubting your courage or your heart. It’s just your head that needs sorting out. You have to learn to control your emotions.”
“So I can betray old friends as easily as Muto Kenji?” The brief moment of calm had passed. I could feel the rage about to erupt again. I wanted to surrender to it, because it was only rage that wiped out shame. The two young people stepped forward, ready to restrain me, but Kikuta waved them back. He himself took my bound hands and held them firmly.
“Look at me,” he said.
Despite myself, my eyes met his. I could feel myself drowning in the whirlpool of my emotions, and only his eyes kept me from going under. Slowly the rage abated. A tremendous weariness took its place. I could not fight the sleep that rolled towards me like clouds over the mountain. Kikuta’s eyes held me until my own eyes closed, and the mist swallowed me up.
When I woke, it was daylight, the sun slanting into the room beyond the secret one and throwing a dim orange light into where I lay. I couldn’t believe it was afternoon again: I must have slept for nearly a whole day. The girl was sitting on the floor a little way from me. I realized the door had just closed; the sound had wakened me. The other guard must have just stepped out.
“What’s your name?” I said. My voice was croaky, my throat still sore.
“Yuki.”
“And him?”
“Akio.”
He was the one she’d said I’d wounded. “What did that man do to me?”
“The Kikuta master? He just put you to sleep. It’s something Kikuta can do.”
I remembered the dogs in Hagi. Something Kikuta can do. . . .
“What hour is it?” I said.
“First half of the Rooster.”
“Is there any news?”
“Of Lord Otori? Nothing.” She came a little closer and whispered, “Do you want me to take a message to him?”
I stared at her. “Can you?”
“I’ve worked as a maid at the place he is lodged in, as I did at Yamagata.” She gave me a look full of meaning. “I can try and speak to him tonight or tomorrow morning.”
“Tell him I did not leave voluntarily. Ask him to forgive me. . . .” There was far too much to try to put into words. I broke off. “Why would you do this for me?”
She shook her head, smiled, and indicated we should say no more. Akio returned to the room. One of his hands was bandaged, and he treated me coldly.
Later they untied my feet and took me to the bath, undressed me, and helped me into the hot water. I was moving like a cripple and every muscle in my body ached.
“It’s what you do to yourself when you go mad with rage,” Yuki said. “You have no idea how much you can hurt yourself with your own strength.”
“That’s why you have to learn self-control,” Akio added. “Otherwise you are only a danger to others as well as yourself.”
When they took me back to the room he said, “You broke every rule of the Tribe with your disobedience. Let this be a punishment to you.”
I realized it was not only resentment for my wounding him: He disliked me and was jealous too. I didn’t care one way or the other. My head ached fiercely, and although the rage had left me, it had been replaced with the deepest sorrow.
My guards seemed to accept that some sort of truce had been reached, and left me untied. I was in no condition to go anywhere. I could hardly walk, let alone climb out of windows and scale roofs. I ate a little, the first food I had taken in two days. Yuki and Akio left, their places taken by Keiko and the other young man, whose name was Yoshinori. Keiko’s hands were also bandaged. They both seemed as hostile towards me as Akio. We did not talk at all.
I thought of Shigeru and prayed that Yuki would be able to speak to him. Then I found myself praying in the manner of the Hidden, the words coming unbidden onto my tongue. I had absorbed them, after all, with my mother’s milk. Like a child I whispered them to myself, and maybe they brought me comfort, for after a while I slept again, deeply.
The sleep refreshed me. When I woke, it was morning; my body had recovered a little and I could move without pain. Yuki was back, and when she saw I was awake, she dispatched Akio on some errand. She seemed older than the others, and had some authority over them.
She told me immediately what I longed to hear. “I went to the lodging house last night and managed to speak to Lord Otori. He was greatly relieved to hear you are unharmed. His main fear was that you had been captured or murdered by the Tohan. He wrote to you yesterday, in the vain hope you might be able to retrieve the letter someday.”
“You have it?”
She nodded. “He gave me something else for you. I hid it in the closet.”
She slid open the door to the closet where the bedding was stored, and from beneath a pile of quilts took out a long bundle. I recognized the cloth: It was an old traveling robe of Shigeru’s, maybe the very one he had been wearing when he had saved my life in Mino. She put it in my hands and I held it up to my face. There was something rigid wrapped up inside it. I knew immediately what it was. I unfolded the robe and lifted Jato out.
I thought I would die of grief. Tears fell then: I could not prevent them.
Yuki said gently, “They are to go unarmed to the castle for the wedding. He did not want the sword to be lost if he did not return.”
“He will not return,” I said, the tears streaming like a river.
Yuki took the sword from me and rewrapped it, stowing it away again in the closet.
“Why did you do this for me?” I said. “Surely you are disobeying the Tribe?”
“I am from Yamagata,” she replied. “I was there when Takeshi was murdered. The family who died with him—I grew up with their daughter. You saw what it was like in Yamagata, how much the people love Shigeru. I am one of them. And I believe Kenji, the Muto master, has wronged both of you.” There was a note of challenge in her voice that sounded almost like an outraged—and disobedient—child. I did not want to question her further. I was just immensely grateful for what she had done for me.
“Give me the letter,” I said after a while.
He had been taught by Ichiro and his handwriting was everything mine should have been but wasn’t, bold and flowing: Takeo, I am most happy that you are safe. There is nothing to forgive. I know that you would not betray me, and I always knew that the Tribe would try to take you. Think of me tomorrow.
The main letter followed. . . .
Takeo, for whatever reasons, we could not follow through with our gamble. I have many regrets, but am spared the sorrow of sending you to your death. I believe you to be with the Tribe; your destiny is therefore out of my hands. However, you are my adopted son and my only legal heir. I hope one day you will be able to take up your Otori inheritance. If I die at Iida’s hands, I charge you to avenge my death, but not to mourn it, for I believe I will achieve more in death than in life. Be patient. I also ask that you will look after Lady Shirakawa.
Some bond from a former life must have decreed the strength of our feelings. I am glad we met at Mino. I embrace you.
Your adopted father, Shigeru.
It was set with his seal.
“The Otori men believe you and the Muto master to have been murdered,” Yuki said. “No one believes you would have left voluntarily. I thought you would like to know.”
I thought of them all, the men who had teased and spoiled me, taught me and put up with me, been proud of me, and still thought the best of me. They were going to certain death, but I envied them, for they would die with Shigeru, while I was condemned to live, starting with that terrible day.
Every sound from outside made me start. At one time, soon after midday, I thought I heard far in the distance the clash of swords and the screams of men, but no one came to tell me anything. An oppressive and unnatural silence settled over the town.
My only consolation was the thought of Jato, lying hidden within arm’s reach. Many times I was on the point of seizing the sword and fighting my way out of the house, but Shigeru’s last message to me had been to be patient. Rage had given way to grief, but now, as my tears dried, grief gave way to determination. I would not throw away my life unless I took Iida with me.
Around the hour of the Monkey I heard a voice in the shop below. My heart stopped, for I knew it was news of some sort. Keiko and Yoshinori were with me, but after about ten minutes Yuki came and told them they were to go.
She knelt beside me and put her hand on my arm. “Muto Shizuka has sent a message from the castle. The masters are coming to speak to you.”
“Is he dead?”
“No, worse: He is captured. They will tell you.”
“He is to kill himself?”
Yuki hesitated. She spoke swiftly without looking at me. “Iida has accused him of harboring a member of the Hidden—of being one of them himself. Ando has a personal feud against him and is demanding punishment. Lord Otori has been stripped of the privileges of the warrior class and is to be treated as a common criminal.”
“Iida would not dare,” I said.
“He has already done it.”
I heard footsteps approaching from the outer room as outrage and shock sent energy flooding through me. I leaped at the closet and pulled out the sword, drawing it in the same movement from the sheath. I felt it cleave to my hands. I raised it above my head.
Kenji and Kikuta stepped into the room. They went very still when they saw Jato in my hands. Kikuta reached inside his robe for a knife, but Kenji did not move.
“I am not going to attack you,” I said, “though you deserve to die. But I will kill myself. . . .”
Kenji rolled his eyes upwards. Kikuta said mildly, “We hope you won’t have to resort to that.” Then after a moment he hissed and went on almost impatiently, “Sit down, Takeo. You’ve made your point.”
We all lowered ourselves onto the floor. I placed the sword on the matting next to me.
“I see Jato found you,” Kenji said. “I should have expected that.”
“I brought it, master,” Yuki said.
“No, the sword used you. So it goes from hand to hand. I should know: It used me to find Shigeru after Yaegahara.”
“Where is Shizuka?” I said.
“Still in the castle. She did not come herself. Just to send a message was very dangerous, but she wanted us to know what happened, and asked what we intended to do about it.”
“Tell me.”
“Lady Maruyama tried to flee from the castle yesterday with her daughter.” Kikuta’s voice was level and dispassionate. “She bribed some boatmen to take her across the river. They were betrayed and intercepted. All three women threw themselves into the water. The lady and her daughter drowned, but the servant, Sachie, was rescued. Better for her that she had drowned, for she was then tortured until she revealed the relationship with Shigeru, the alliance with Arai, and the lady’s connection with the Hidden.”
“The pretense that the wedding would take place was maintained until Shigeru was inside the castle,” Kenji said. “Then the Otori men were cut down, and he was accused of treason.” He paused for a moment and then continued quietly. “He is already strung from the castle wall.”
“Crucified?” I whispered.
“Hung by the arms.”
I closed my eyes briefly, imagining the pain, the dislocation of the shoulders, the slow suffocation, the terrible humiliation.
“ ‘A warrior’s death, swift and honorable’?” I said, in accusation, to Kenji.
He did not reply. His face, usually so mobile, was still, his pale skin, white.
I put my hand out and touched Jato. I said to Kikuta, “I have a proposition to put to the Tribe. I believe you work for whoever pays you most. I will buy my services from you with something you seem to value—that is, my life and my obedience. Let me go tonight and bring him down. In return I will give up the name of Otori and join the Tribe. If you don’t agree, I will end my life here. I will never leave this room.”
The two masters exchanged a glance. Kenji nodded imperceptibly. Kikuta said, “I have to accept that the situation has changed, and we seem to have come to a stalemate.” There was a sudden flurry in the street, feet running and shouts. We both listened in an identical Kikuta way. The sounds faded, and he went on, “I accept your proposal. You have my permission to go into the castle tonight.”
“I will go with him,” Yuki said, “and I’ll prepare everything we may need.”
“If the Muto master agrees.”
“I agree,” Kenji said. “I will come too.”
“You don’t need to,” I said.
“All the same, I’m coming with you.”
“Do we know where Arai is?” I asked.
Kenji said, “Even if he were to march all night, he would not be here before daybreak.”
“But he is on his way?”
“Shizuka believes he will not move against the castle. His only hope is to provoke Iida into fighting him on the border.”
“And Terayama?”
“They will erupt when they hear of this outrage,” Yuki said. “The town of Yamagata too.”
“No revolt will succeed while Iida lives, and anyway, these wider concerns are not ours,” Kikuta interrupted with a flash of anger. “You may bring Shigeru’s body down; our agreement covers nothing more.”
I said nothing. While Iida lives . . .
It was raining again, the gentle sound enveloping the town, washing tiles and cobbles, freshening the stale air.
“What of Lady Shirakawa?” I said.
“Shizuka says she is in shock, but calm. No suspicion seems to be attached to her, apart from the blame that goes with her unfortunate reputation. People say she is cursed, but she is not suspected of being part of the conspiracy. Sachie, the servant, was weaker than the Tohan thought, and she escaped their torture into death before, it seems, incriminating Shizuka.”
“Did she reveal anything about me?”
Kenji sighed. “She knew nothing, except that you were from the Hidden and rescued by Shigeru, which Iida knew already. He and Ando think Shigeru adopted you purely to insult them, and that you fled when you were recognized. They do not suspect your Tribe identity, and they do not know of your skills.”
That was one advantage. Another was the weather and the night. The rain lessened to a drizzling mist; the cloud cover was dense and low, completely obscuring moon and stars. And the third was the change that had come over me. Something inside me that had been half-formed before had set into its intended shape. My outburst of mad rage, followed by the profound Kikuta sleep, had burned away the dross from my nature and left a core of steel. I recognized in myself the glimpses I’d had of Kenji’s true self, as if Jato had come to life.
The three of us went through the equipment and clothing. After that I spent an hour exercising. My muscles were still stiff, though less sore. My right wrist bothered me the most. When I’d raised Jato before, the pain had shot back to the elbow. In the end Yuki strapped it up for me with a leather wrist guard.
Towards the second half of the hour of the Dog, we ate lightly and then sat in silence, slowing breathing and heartbeat. We darkened the room to improve our night vision. An early curfew had been imposed, and after the horsemen had patrolled the streets, driving people inside, the streets were quiet. Around us the house sang its evening song: dishes being cleared away, dogs fed, guards settling down for the night watch. I could hear the tread of maids as they went to spread out the bedding, the click of the abacus from the front room as someone did the day’s accounts. Gradually the song dwindled to a few constant notes: the deep breathing of the sleeping, occasional snores, once the cry of a man at the moment of physical passion. These mundane human sounds touched my soul. I found myself thinking of my father, of his longing to live an ordinary human life. Had he cried out like that when I was conceived?