“I prefer the same, though stay close.”
“Depend upon it.”
The small temple was indeed a small temple, as one might expect to find in a farming village of no great size. I suppose both the temple and the village had a name, but I never heard them. Inside the temple was a tiny lecture hall with seating for no more than twenty people, a wooden statue of the Divine Kannon, and Lord Yorinobu. He sat on a bench as if to attend a lecture from the sutras, gazing not at me but at the statue of Kannon.
“I had not thought to see you again, Lord Yamada,” he said.
“Nor I you, to be honest. Yet something you said at the reading of your sentence caught my notice.”
“Since I said only one thing, I can guess what that something was. I wondered if you had been present. I thought you might.”
“I did not come to gloat, I assure you.”
He looked at me directly then. “No, though if our situations were reversed, I might have done so. I would guess you were either there to make certain I was removed from the Capital and sent far away from Her Highness or to gain some insight into the danger she faces, especially as you were denied this during our first unfortunate meeting. Possibly both.”
“I will not deny this,” I said. “And I realize you have little reason to wish to be helpful to me.”
He smiled then. “As things stand, there is little reason to avoid doing so. I am only too aware I will likely never see the Capital again, nor any whom I had reason to call my friends, and there is something I wish known. If you are willing to listen, well then, I am willing to speak. It was true, what I said at the Demon Gate. I was betrayed.”
“By whom?” I asked.
He sighed deeply. “This to me is the worst part of it—I have no idea.”
“I do not understand.”
He looked at me again. “You were right when you surmised I did not know why I was ordered to kill Princess Tagako, nor was it necessary that I know. I was given an order, and I was obliged to obey. The order arrived under proper seal, so I had no questions of its legitimacy, despite the unpleasantness of the order itself.”
“The only people in a position to give you such an order would be the Fujiwara,” I said.
“I will not confirm this, even now, but you are free to draw your own conclusions, as I’m sure you will. Regardless, when I was brought back to the city, I sent messages to . . . certain people, requesting their assistance in my difficulty.”
“They refused?”
“It was a bit more complicated, but, yes, they refused. I understand why, of course, yet I cannot help but feel resentful.”
I considered for a moment. “Lord Yorinobu, with your indulgence, I am about to speculate. You need not confirm or even comment, but I will ask that you listen to me.”
Yorinobu shrugged. “I have no objection, as I no longer consider this of concern. My life as I had always understood it is now over. My loyalties are my own.”
I gazed at the statue of Divine Kannon. “It is not a secret the two greatest leaders of the Fujiwara clan are in opposition. Suppose one of them heard of Princess Tagako’s impending marriage and believed it was not in their interests, for whatever reason. Now, no one would have attached their name to such an order as you were given. It would be treason, should it be discovered. There would be no name on the order.”
“I am still listening,” Yorinobu said.
“One of the brothers—Yorimichi, Norimichi, for our purposes it’s not important which—gave the order. After your plan was thwarted, I believe his brother’s role in this debacle would have reached the other. Reasonable?”
“I am still listening,” Yorinobu repeated, though he was nodding to himself. “Go on.”
“At this point the one who gave the order would deny it, as his brother could use this knowledge as leverage against him, even perhaps remove him as an impediment. The one who actually gave the order might find it expedient to accuse his brother of hatching the plot himself. Naturally, this would do little to heal a family already at odds. In neither case would they be willing or perhaps even able to come to the support of an old ally. A divided family is a weakened family.”
“If I said you were close to the heart of things, you would have no cause to believe me. I might still be acting out of loyalty to spread false information.”
“That is true,” I said.
“So do not believe me when I tell you that you are, indeed, close to the heart of things. It would be foolish of you to do so.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“Well, then. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow,” he said. “I think I will need my rest.”
“For what little it may be worth, good luck to you.”
“And to you as well, Lord Yamada. I am not sure which of us will need it more.”
“Did you believe him?” Kenji asked, when I related the conversation later that evening.
“That he felt betrayed? I do believe it. That the scenario I outlined actually happened? I do not know, but I suspect the Fujiwara—or one of them—knows why Princess Tagako was marked for death. This, however, is nothing more than we already suspected. It is nothing new.”
“Neither is it proof,” Kenji noted.
“Consider—if I could prove the Fujiwara were involved, what then? They may be weakened and disorganized at the moment, but they are still powerful, and it is likely the emperor’s supporters would not deem it prudent to confront them directly. Also, what is obvious to us is likely obvious to both Prince Kanemore and the emperor, since they have been fighting these battles of courtly intrigue far longer than we have. If there are steps to be taken, likely they are taking them already.”
“So we do nothing?” Kenji asked.
I smiled. “I never said so. Were you able to learn anything about Prince Kanemore’s whereabouts?”
“I said before no one seems to know where he is, and this remains true. What I did not realize is how much interest the subject has already generated. There is much speculation relative to his disappearance. None of which, in my opinion, amounts to more than wild guesses. No one really knows where he is. Everyone I’ve spoken or listened to thinks it’s as strange as we do, and now I’m starting to wonder—could your old friend be in some sort of trouble?”
“Possible, but if so he went to great pains to conceal it. There was nothing in his letters which so much as hinted at the possibility.”
Kenji shrugged. “Then I am at a loss, though I do not believe he could still be within the city. There are too many people with access to any place he might be—servants, palace officials, priests, nuns, ladies of the court . . . someone would have seen him.”
I was reluctantly coming to the same conclusion. One such as Kanemore might conceal himself in some obscure residence for a short time, but not for this long. If Kanemore really was away from the Capital, then I had to assume his original letter had described his situation accurately. He was away at the emperor’s command on an assignment he couldn’t discuss. This left me with difficult questions and very little chance of answering them.
If Princess Tagako is safe, then I can afford to wait for Kanemore.
I did not believe for a moment this was the case, and events soon proved me right. The next morning the news came of an assassination attempt on the princess. While my presence was not specifically requested, I would not like to have been any guard hoping to bar me from the compound. This proved to be no issue, for when I arrived, it was clear Toshihide-shōshō was expecting me. He held up a tattered length of paper.
“Yamada-sama, I trust you recognize this?”
I did. It was the remnants of a shikigami. “How did it get in?”
“That is a good question. None of my men reported a breach, and the walls are secure. First it wasn’t there, and then it was. Fortunately, it was spotted and dispatched before it reached the mansion. It wore our mon, apparently in an attempt to infiltrate, but was a very poor imitation of a human being. A child wo
uld have noticed it.”
“It takes a very skilled onmyōji to create a shikigami refined enough to pass for a living person. I’ve only known a handful of such who could do it,” I said as I examined the paper. “Whoever made this one was either not in that category or was concealing their level of skill.”
“Meaning a more convincing creation would incriminate its creator.”
“It would certainly narrow the search. On the other hand, a more convincing assassin might have been more successful.”
Toshihide looked unhappy. “This possibility had occurred to me. Even as it was, things have gone differently. I am prepared to handle any human assassin, but shikigami? What next, spirit attacks? I would be grateful for your help, Yamada-sama.”
“Anything I can do, I certainly will. I would also like to speak to Her Highness, if she feels able to have visitors.”
Toshihide laughed. “If you were to leave without letting the princess know, then both of our heads might be in danger. I will have you announced.”
While I waited for Princess Tagako’s kicho to be brought out and positioned, Toshihide showed me where the shikigami had first been spotted in the garden. I made note of the observation posts erected within the walls, and the guard stations established at the perimeter of the garden.
“A shikigami in its true form doesn’t require a great deal of space and might have passed unnoticed even by a keen eye. Even so, it would have had difficulty reaching this spot on its own.”
“Are you suggesting one of us brought the thing here?” Toshihide asked.
“Not at all. If one of the guards had done it, why place the creature in the garden? With a guard’s access, the creature could have been hidden far closer to Princess Tagako, thus giving the attack a much greater chance of success. No, Toshihide-shōshō, I am merely observing that the garden seems a strange place for the thing to begin its attack. Why there?”
He looked unhappy. “It’s obvious you’ve dealt with such things far more than I have. This would never have occurred to me.”
“It may not be important, but until we know how the creature got here, there’s no way to be certain. Who, other than the guards, has access to the garden?”
“No one, save Her Highness’ personal attendants.”
“Who surely could have placed the creature within her chambers, almost guaranteeing success. I think we may safely exclude them.”
Toshihide looked relieved. “Certainly, for the reason you mentioned. Which leaves us?”
“At the moment, nothing, save we’ve removed both your guards and the princess’s attendants as possible traitors.”
“That is something very important to me and, I imagine, Princess Tagako . . . and I see Her Highness is ready to receive you. I will inform you if we find anything else.”
“Please do so.”
Two of Tagako’s attendants hurried up to escort me to the kicho. I had no sooner presented myself and kneeled on the provided cushion, when Princess Tagako said, “You do like to keep a person waiting, Lord Yamada.”
“That was never my intention. Of course I came right away when I heard of the . . . incident.”
“You need not measure your words so carefully. Someone—again—tried to kill me. I’m not certain if I should be more frightened, annoyed, or flattered.”
“A bit of all three at times, I would imagine, and imagine is all I can do.”
“No one has ever tried to kill you?” She sounded surprised.
I smiled. “Numerous times, Takagako-hime. Though most of them had the courtesy to attempt it openly and I knew what their grievances with me were ahead of time. I never had to wonder if there was a blade behind every shadow. It must be difficult.”
“I said once that I could not live behind these walls forever. Now I wonder if I will ever see anything of the world again.”
Her melancholy pained me, understandable as it certainly was. Especially since I had no real or false hope to offer. I was no closer to an answer now than when the first attack occurred. Was it because of the marriage? Or something else entirely I could not see? “So far my worthless efforts have brought you no closer to freedom, and for that I must apologize.”
“I do appreciate everything you have done, but freedom was never to be my fate. I was fortunate to have a taste of it at Ise. Is it selfish of me to wish I had never needed to leave? I was happy there.”
“It is never selfish to want to be happy.”
“I knew happiness for a while, which is more than most can say.”
I took my leave soon after. Princess Tagako was holding up bravely, but she was weary and it was clear the situation was affecting her. I tried to cheer her, but as Kenji would be the first to say, I was never the cheeriest of people even in the best of times. Once I was back in my own compound, I found Kenji and told him what I had learned. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, but then he looked thoughtful.
“Whatever happened to that bumpkin onmyōji that Minamoto no Yorinobu was using in his attacks?”
“Moritomo? He was taken into custody along with Yorinobu himself. Why?”
“Do we know if he is still there? I was thinking one of his bird shikigami, unable to attack Tagako-hime directly, might have easily dropped yet another shikigami into the compound. The garden would have been a likely spot, or one of the rear courtyards. Toshihide gave you the remnants, yes? Let me see them.”
I handed over the remains of the shikigami for Kenji to study. After he’d examined it for a few minutes he shook his head. “I’m not certain. It could be Moritomo’s work, but the style is a little more refined than I would expect of him. Nonetheless, I do think it would be prudent to ascertain his current whereabouts. I would hate to see Princess Tagako strangled by a loose thread.”
Normally I might have scoffed at the necessity, though I did have some doubt as to the wisdom of letting Moritomo live. It was Prince Kanemore’s designated bushi who had taken Moritomo as well as Yorinobu into custody. I doubted Moritomo would be permitted to become a threat again. Yet so many things were troubling about our current situation that I had to agree—best to make certain of everything which could be made certain.
“I think perhaps Toshihide-shōshō might be willing and able to assist us on this. I’ll send him a message.”
“Why a message? You would have another excuse to visit Princess Tagako.”
Fond as I had become of Kenji over the years, there really were times I would gladly have beaten him senseless. “Later, perhaps. Right now, you and I have other obligations.”
“Such as?”
“A new visit,” I said, “to an old friend.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Master Chang Yu? This is the ‘old friend’ you dragged me to see?”
Kenji and I stood with Morofusa and Ujiyasu outside Chang Yu’s shop near the Karasuma section. It looked little changed from the last time we had stood there, over three years before. It was just as run-down and threadbare as I remembered, though, curiously, no more so. I idly wondered if this was exactly the appearance he strove to maintain.
“We need someone more familiar with the creation of shikigami than either of us. Can you think of anyone better?” I asked.
“Better? Certainly. Less offensive? Of course. More ethical? Absolutely. More appropriate? Probably not. Though if he’s willing to talk to us at all, I would be surprised. Or have you forgotten the last time?”
“I have not. Yet this form of magic originated in China, and Master Chang Yu is probably the only native adept in the country. I promise not to mention your own dabbling, if that helps.”
“I would consider it a personal favor. I would consider it a bigger favor if we didn’t need to see the old charlatan at all.”
That last bit was simply unkind. While Chang Yu certainly was a bit of a conniver and hawker, a dubious merchant with the moral values of a starving rat, one thing he was not was a charlatan, as Kenji well knew. I had known many powerful onmyōji in my time,
but most of the best ones had learned their craft from Chang Yu and still acknowledged him as their master. He also had an exceptionally keen memory. If whoever had sent the shikigami to attack Princess Tagako had been a student of his, it was very likely he would be able to identify them. While I wasn’t expecting this search to be so easy, I was open to the idea it might be. However, as a merchant, it was not in Master Chang Yu’s nature to give something valuable away without payment of some sort. I dreaded what he might ask, assuming he was willing to speak to us at all.
I sent one of the bushi, Ujiyasu, to guard the rear exit in case our arrival was anticipated. I had known Master Chang Yu for many years, which was another reason he would not be happy to see me, and he could move surprisingly fast for an elderly gentleman when the impetus was upon him.
As it turned out, that was also the case in this instance. When we entered his shop, our noses were assaulted by the pungent herbs he sold as his main business, but Master Chang Yu was nowhere in sight. After a few moments we heard grumbling in broken Japanese; the curtains leading to the rear of his establishment parted, and in strode a scowling Chang Yu, escorted by an impassive Ujiyasu.
“Seriously, Lord Yamada, is this any way to treat an old friend?”
Despite his jovial tone, the man struck me as, perhaps, a little more nervous than the situation warranted. “I’m told I have become somewhat predictable in my later years. Sadly, so have you.”
Master Chang Yu had changed very little in the time since our last meeting. He was every bit as short and round as I remembered, and his moustache and beard were already white with age but no whiter than last time. I imagined him remaining exactly the way he was then for hundreds of years, only to fall apart when someone found the hiding place of his black old heart and broke it.
“I really need to build a new exit. Fine then, and lovely to see you. What do you want, or shall I guess—information?”
“Well, I did say I had grown predictable.” I held out the tattered paper. “What can you tell me about this?”
“Much, probably,” he muttered as he took the paper. “But what I should tell you remains to be seen. How great a trouble have you brought me this time?”
The Emperor in Shadow Page 20