The Dragon King's Palace

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Oh, Reiko-san,” Midori wailed. Lady Yanagisawa made inarticulate sounds of protest. Keisho-in shouted, “Let her go, you filthy, disgusting beasts!”

  As the men roughly propelled Reiko toward the door, she glanced backward at her friends. Their faces expressed their horror at losing her and their hope of salvation.

  “I’ll be back,” she told them with a confidence she wished she felt. “Don’t worry.”

  Outside the door, two peasant thugs crouched. They leered at Reiko as her escorts urged her to the stairway. One of the younger men descended first. Their leader positioned himself behind Reiko, gripped her shoulders, and forced her to walk down the stairs ahead of him. The third man followed. Splinters from the rickety steps needled her bare feet. On the lower levels, more guards lounged, smoking tobacco pipes. As Reiko and her escorts neared the door, the cruel samurai took hold of her right arm, while one comrade restrained her left. The other dogged her heels. The tip of his sword pricked her back. Her heart hammered and her stomach churned.

  Where were they taking her? Did they mean to finish the assault that their leader had interrupted?

  They dragged her from the keep. The clouded sky darkened the afternoon. Rain pelted her face; the stone landing felt cold and slick under her toes. The men led her past still more guards who loitered on the steps, and along an unfamiliar path through the forest. Three more samurai joined their procession. The trees dripped water; moisture saturated the air, which smelled of loam and decaying leaves. Reiko barely noticed the sharp twigs that gouged her feet, because an awful thought occurred to her.

  The kidnappers intended to murder their victims. They’d chosen her to be the first to die.

  Panic compressed Reiko’s chest; her breath emerged in wheezes as she tried to control her fear. She longed for Sano, but three days had gone by since her abduction, and he hadn’t come. He would not come in time to rescue her now.

  Suddenly the forest was behind her, and the path edged the lake, a dull silver mirror of the sky, rimmed by misty woods and mountains on the opposite shore. Would the kidnappers drown her? Reiko imagined Masahiro never knowing why his mother didn’t come home. The panic swelled, dizzying Reiko; she stumbled. Borne along by the men, she passed a ramshackle dock that extended into the water. She spied three boats secured to the pilings. The boats were simple wooden shells, with oars laid inside. Her will to survive out-balanced her fear of death, and her spirits momentarily rose. Now she knew that here were her means of transport across the lake, if not how to gain them.

  The cruel samurai hustled her past the boats. His grin said he’d read her thoughts and scorned her hope.

  On their right loomed what appeared to be the main palace. A paved square, and a crumbling wall studded with ruined guard turrets, fronted the lake. Beyond the wall rose a building crowned with tile roofs whose gables boasted tarnished copper dragon crests. Reiko’s captors led her through portals where a gate had once hung. Moss-coated stone lanterns flanked the path through a wilderness that had once been a garden. The buildings seemed intact, though the plaster had flaked off them, exposing weathered wood. Ivy entwined the foundation posts and window grills. The quiet seemed alive with the ghosts of warlords from a bygone era. A shiver chilled Reiko as the men marched her up a flight of steps, into the palace through an open doorway, and along a dim corridor. Torn, moldy paper hung from the lattice walls. Dark stains marred the floorboards, and Reiko sensed that blood had been shed where she now walked. The place breathed a wicked miasma that increased her dread.

  Would her blood soon spill here?

  They turned a corner and entered a reception chamber. The smoky, bittersweet scent of incense laced the atmosphere. Jagged cracks in sliding doors along the wall gave a view of a veranda outside. Beyond an expanse of rotting tatami, the man in the dragon kimono stood waiting on a dais. Behind him stretched a faded mural that portrayed a fanciful underwater scene of blue waves and green seaweed flowing over gardens and pavilions. He watched Reiko and his men cross the chamber and stop before him. Again his sinister, brooding stare burned into Reiko. Again the peculiar longing in his eyes disturbed her.

  “Leave her with me, Ota-san.” He flicked a glance at her erstwhile attacker, who seemed to be his chief henchman. “You can all go.”

  “But she’s dangerous.” Ota stood firm, his hand still gripping Reiko’s arm. His comrades also held their positions. “She killed four of our men during the ambush. She attacked Jiro and me this morning. You shouldn’t be alone with her.”

  Nor did Reiko want to be alone with him. Although she feared her escorts, she wished they would stay.

  Angry impatience flamed in the man’s eyes. “Then wait outside,” he ordered his men.

  Ota spoke quietly to Reiko: “Behave yourself, or your friends will be punished.”

  Then he released her. He and his fellows walked out the door, but Reiko sensed him loitering nearby. She saw the other men line up on the veranda, ready to protect their master.

  He descended from the dais and approached Reiko. His flared nostrils twitched as though scenting prey; saliva gleamed on his pursed lips. Reiko folded her arms across her bosom and stepped backward. Her heart beat an escalating rhythm as she eyed the swords at his waist.

  Had he brought her here so that he could kill her? Had he kid- napped her and her friends because he enjoyed slaughtering helpless women?

  He advanced nearer with that proud yet hesitant swagger. The odor of incense was stronger around him, as if soaked into his skin and clothes. “What’s your name?” he said, his gaze intent on her face.

  She didn’t want to tell him, but she was afraid of what he would do if she didn’t answer. She opened her mouth. No speech emerged. Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, she tried again. “Reiko,” she whispered.

  A shadow of displeasure crossed his features. “That name doesn’t suit you. I shall call you . . . Anemone.” He lingered on the word, savoring it.

  Reiko hoped she wouldn’t be here long enough for him to call her anything, but if he bothered to rename her, then perhaps he intended her to live awhile. Her mettle revived, emboldening her. “Who are you?” she said.

  His brows rose in surprise, as if he thought she should have already known. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “You can call me ‘Dragon King.’ “

  She frowned, baffled by his strange talk. Why would he name himself after the legendary spirit? She was also perturbed that he wouldn’t tell her his real identity.

  A secretive smile touched his lips. “Yes, I am the Dragon King, who rights the wrongs done by evil men and balances the cosmic forces in the universe.”

  What he meant by that eluded Reiko’s comprehension. “Where am I?” she asked.

  “You’re with me, where you belong.”

  He prowled in a circle around her. Pivoting, Reiko watched him, leery that he would attack her. If she was to die, she wouldn’t succumb without a battle, and she wanted some answers first. She said, “I mean, where is this place?”

  “This is a castle that a member of my clan built as a summer home. He was a general during the civil wars, more than a hundred years ago. One day, enemy troops attacked him here. They fired mortars, gunshots, and flaming arrows from rafts on the lake. The castle caught fire. The enemy invaded. Although my clansman and his army fought bravely, they were doomed. He committed seppuku to avoid the disgrace of capture.”

  Ice congealed along Reiko’s nerves as she recalled the bloodstains on the floor.

  “But the past doesn’t concern us, Anemone,” said the Dragon King. “That chance has reunited us is all that matters.”

  Again, he behaved as if they knew each other, although Reiko was more sure than ever that they’d never met. What part did he think chance had played in his abduction of her? And why insist on calling her Anemone? What significance did the name hold for him?

  “I shouldn’t have expected you to recognize me,” he said in a rueful tone. “When we were last together, I
was a mere boy. But I recognized you at once. You are as young and beautiful as ever.” Reverence hushed his voice and misted his eyes as he gazed at Reiko. “You are just as you’ve appeared in my dreams ever since the night I lost you.”

  Reiko deduced that she resembled someone he’d known. Could it be the reason he’d kidnapped her? The idea that mistaken identity had occasioned the murder of a hundred people horrified Reiko. But when they’d met after her escape attempt, he’d seemed surprised to see her. And why kidnap the other women if she was the one he wanted?

  An injured expression altered the Dragon King’s aspect. “Why do you not speak?” he asked. “Have you nothing to say to me after all this time apart?”

  Reiko blurted, “Are you going to kill me?”

  The Dragon King cocked his big head, clasped one fist inside the other, and regarded her for a long, suspenseful moment, while emotions she couldn’t interpret flitted across his face. “Hopefully not,” he said at last.

  Her puzzlement outlived her relief, because the Dragon King thrust out both hands as if to seize her. Reiko cried out and instinctively flung up her arms to strike back, then recalled that her friends’ safety depended on her good behavior. The Dragon King withdrew his hands and held them palms up, assuring her that he meant no harm. An anxious, propitiating smile rendered his countenance all the more disturbing.

  “Come, we shall celebrate our reunion with a banquet,” he said.

  He moved to her side. His hand touching her sleeve urged her across the room, up onto the dais. Near the mural lay a cloth set with a sake decanter, two cups, two pairs of chopsticks, and dishes that contained cold rice, roasted fish, boiled greens, and preserved fruits. Reiko unwillingly knelt where the Dragon King indicated. He knelt too close beside her, poured the sake, and handed her a cup.

  “A toast to a new beginning,” he said, raising his cup while his gaze devoured her.

  He drank, and Reiko decided he was playing some private, bizarre game. The need to protect her friends compelled her to play along and drain her cup. The liquor burned her insides like corrosive poison.

  “Please eat, Anemone,” he said.

  Reiko picked up the chopsticks and obeyed. Despite her hunger, every bite stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to encourage his weird fancies. What bearing might they have upon his crimes?

  The Dragon King poured more sake and drank again. He didn’t eat; he just watched her. “You’re awfully quiet, my dearest. What are you thinking?”

  Summoning her nerve, Reiko said, “Why did you do it?”

  The Dragon King started and blinked, as if he’d just awakened from a dream. He seemed not to know what she was talking about.

  “What I want to know is why you kidnapped us,” Reiko said, and saw comprehension creep into his gaze. She said, “If it’s money you want, my family will pay you whatever you ask. So will Midori’s and Lady Yanagisawa’s families. The shogun will give away the whole Tokugawa treasury to get his mother back.”

  “I don’t want money.” The Dragon King dismissed the notion with an adamant shake of his head. “The purpose of my scheme is justice, not wealth. Justice and vengeance. Both require blood sacrifice of the innocent as well as the guilty.”

  “You wanted revenge? For what?” Reiko said, more perplexed than enlightened. “What did those people your men killed ever do to you?”

  “Nothing.” His callous dismissal said he harbored no regrets about the massacre. “They were just in the way.”

  “In the way of kidnapping Lady Keisho-in, Lady Yanagisawa, Midori, and me?” When the Dragon King nodded, Reiko said, “But we’ve never hurt you. You’ve no cause to hold us prisoners and mistreat us.”

  “Haven’t I?” Sudden rage flamed in his eyes. “Didn’t you entice me into immoral degradation?” He leaned closer to Reiko, and his words sprayed hot liquor fumes into her face.

  Disconcerted by his abrupt change of mood, she lurched upward in an attempt to rise. She saw the men on the veranda aiming bows and arrows at her through the cracked doors. She thought of her helpless friends and sank to her knees.

  “Didn’t you make me your devoted slave, and all the while you bestowed your favors elsewhere?” he demanded. “Didn’t I suffer agonizing heartbreak because of you? Didn’t you break my spirit, then abandon me?” He shouted, “Whore! She-devil!”

  He slapped her cheek so hard that her head snapped and her vision blurred. Reiko screamed in pain and shock as she fell on her side with a bone-jarring crash. Then the Dragon King was bending over her, murmuring tender consolations.

  “Forgive me for hurting you,” he said. “How can I make amends?”

  Comfort from him scared Reiko as much as his violence did. She felt the tingling soreness in her cheek; she tasted blood in her mouth. As she gazed up at him, tears flooded her eyes. “You can let us go.”

  His brows bunched together. “Why do you want to leave me? Do you find me so repulsive?”

  “No, not at all,” Reiko hastened to say. Cautiously she sat up, aware that she must not enrage him again, lest he do her greater injury. “I think you’re very . . . handsome. But the tower is unfit for people to live in. Lady Keisho-in is old and sick. Midori is going to have a baby soon. Lady Yanagisawa is the mother of a little daughter who needs her.”

  Ennui shaded the Dragon King’s countenance: His interest in Reiko didn’t extend to the other women.

  “I have a child, too.” Reiko’s voice trembled as she thought of Masahiro. “We all want to go home!”

  The Dragon King folded his arms and straightened his posture. “That’s impossible.” Coldness edged his gruff voice.

  “Have you any children of your own? Don’t you miss your own family?” Reiko said, trying to draw him onto common ground and thereby win his sympathy. “Wouldn’t you rather be with them instead of in this miserable place?”

  “I have no children. I have no family.” He spoke in an accusatory tone that said his lack was somehow her fault.

  Reiko despaired of reasoning with him, for she comprehended that he was irrational. “Who is it that you want revenge against?” she asked. “What did they do to you that you would kill and kidnap innocent people?”

  His superior smile mocked her. “The truth will soon become known to everyone in Japan.”

  Thwarted, Reiko tried another tack: “How can you serve justice by keeping us imprisoned?”

  “You will see,” he said, replete with private satisfaction.

  “Kidnapping the shogun’s mother and slaughtering her entourage is treason against the Tokugawa regime. You’ll never get away with it.” In her growing anxiety, Reiko resorted to threats: “The army will hunt you down. You’ll die in disgrace, while your enemy goes free.”

  “The army won’t touch me.” The Dragon King lifted his receding chin and rested a hand on his swords. “I’ve warned the shogun that if he sends the army after me, I’ll kill you all. He must grant my wish, or lose his beloved mother.”

  Reiko couldn’t fathom what wish had spurred this man to such extreme behavior. “What did you ask the shogun to do?” she said, her curiosity almost equaling her fear.

  “Be patient,” the Dragon King said with an air of condescension. “Time will tell.”

  Although Reiko had learned the futility of expecting the answers she wanted from him, she said, “What will happen to us?”

  “That depends on the shogun. For now, you will stay here with me. We might as well enjoy this time we have together.”

  He crept close behind her. His feverish warmth and odor of incense engulfed Reiko; his breaths rasped loudly. An urge to flee almost launched Reiko to her feet, but she saw Ota hovering in the doorway and the men on the veranda, all watching. The Dragon King’s fingers tangled in her hair, fumbling and stroking. Reiko felt her skin ripple with revulsion.

  No man except her husband had ever touched her in such an intimate manner. She wanted no man except Sano. She would have turned on the Dragon King, grabbed for his sword,
and fought him off, but if she did, Keisho-in, Lady Yanagisawa, and Midori would pay.

  The Dragon King brushed her hair to one side. His hot, moist breath fanned the back of her neck, that erotic, intimate zone of the female body. His fingertips grazed her nape. Reiko went rigid with terror of ravishment—the worst injury, short of death, that a man could inflict upon a woman.

  “The dragon lifts his spiny tail,” he whispered. “His majestic body swells and pulsates. Steam bursts from between his glittering scales. His flaming breath ignites passion.”

  Reiko shuddered at this obscene parody of a love poem. She gagged on bile as she anticipated the agonizing ravishment, and the terrible disgrace.

  “An ocean of desire envelops the princess in the underwater palace. Her ivory skin flushes scarlet. She parts her rosy coral lips. Her will drowns in his power. She must surrender.”

  His moving lips touched Reiko’s ear. His hand quivered while he stroked her neck. “Surrender to me now, Anemone, my beautiful drowned princess,” he muttered. “Reward me for the justice I will bring you.”

  Now Reiko comprehended with horror that he wasn’t just playing a game. He had such a tenuous grip on reality that he kept forgetting who she was and actually believing she was the woman he called Anemone. He wasn’t merely eccentric and irrational—he was insane. What sense could she hope to make of a madman’s purpose?

  Indecision paralyzed Reiko. If she resisted him, her friends might lose their lives, but enduring his advances might not guarantee their survival. Must she submit to him? Should she fight instead? If she fought, would he or his men kill her?

  “You’re trembling,” the Dragon King said. “You recoil from my touch. Why do you seem not to want me?”

  Hurt and confusion echoed in his words. Reiko dared not move or speak. His hand continued stroking her. Then he said, “Ah,” in a glad tone of enlightenment. “My haste has offended your feminine sensibility. You would prefer that we delay our lovemaking until we become reacquainted. And your wish is my privilege to honor. Waiting will enhance our pleasure.”