The Emperor in Shadow

by Richard Parks

  Kenji considered. “I would guess . . . because the persons responsible either have no desire to harm us or because we are doing something they very much wish us to do.”

  “That is my assumption as well. Which shows me a direction, if not a name.”

  “You say Moritomo is—was—of no consequence, but would it not be helpful if we knew who ordered Moritomo’s death and why?”

  “I think we already know. First, he was in the custody of the Fujiwara. Whatever official statement will be made—if one is even required—it would be easy enough to explain his death as a suicide or some other misadventure. He died in Fujiwara custody, so it was the Fujiwara who wanted him killed. It is safe to assume they arranged it, as they would certainly not have allowed another to do so unless it suited their purpose. That answers ‘who.’ ‘Why’ I think is a much more interesting question. The only conclusion I can draw is someone among the Fujiwara may have thought Moritomo was still under suspicion for these new assassination attempts on the princess. Murder was one sure way to remove him from consideration.”

  Kenji scowled. “Why would the Fujiwara care one way or another if we suspected their involvement? They had to assume we would, with or without Moritomo.”

  “Indeed—if the Fujiwara were united and spoke and acted as one. This is no longer the case, witness the example of Fujiwara no Yorinobu acting in defiance of his brothers without serious consequences, apparently because those very same brothers are too much at odds with each other to take action. Suppose it was one faction whose leader had called for Tagako’s murder, and the other opposed it? Why would the second faction not take it on themselves to remove Moritomo as a potential tool of the other, and make certain the emperor’s faction—which, make no mistake, we serve—knew of it?”

  “It seems logical. A calculated act to distance them from another line of the Fujiwara in a game where no one—not even the Fujiwara—knows what the end will be,” Kenji said. “This would mean the Fujiwara, or a faction within that family, sent us to the funerary temple . . . using Takamasa, your steward, as their go-between.”

  “That is possible.”

  “Which could mean the Fujiwara had a hand in choosing your attendants.”

  “This is not a thought to make one sleep well at night,” I admitted, “yet none of us has the whole story yet.”

  Dusk had turned to full night while we spoke. The sliver of a moon was growing fatter, and I had the feeling of time slipping away with it. “The path we are on is obscure and as likely to lead over a cliff as to an answer, but we must continue to do what we can. I think I will need to speak to Takamasa.”

  “Perhaps it would be better to get rid of Takamasa. It is almost certain the he serves one other than you.”

  “Yes, but now we are aware of this,” I said. “Plus, we could not be sure unless we removed everyone. That might be impractical. This way I might learn what information he is gathering and to whom it is given.”

  “How will you do so?” Kenji asked. “You must assume he will be reluctant to tell you what you want to know.”

  “He may tell me far more than he intends,” I said. “If he does not understand what I am asking.”

  Kenji looked at me. “I know you can be clever when you must be, but consider—whoever arranged the staffing of this home, you can assume they know you, Yamada-sama. They must have realized you would discover the nature of your servants sooner or later, and Takamasa was hand-picked for this position. With all due respect, you may not be clever enough.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, Kenji did have a point.

  “Then perhaps it is in our interest to discover the limits of my assumed cleverness.”

  Kenji abandoned the argument then, seeing I was determined. However, there was no reason to pursue the question of Takamasa that evening. Kenji soon took his leave to find his bed. I was about to go find my own when I saw the ghost light appear in my garden.

  I wondered if I would see you again.

  If the thought had a target, that target took no heed. I saw the onibi drift through the garden. I knew better than to pursue it, but I watched it flicker by, curious to see if there would be any further manifestation. After a few more moments the ghost light faded, and the outline of a woman appeared. There was no question as to the apparition’s identity now, not that I had doubted it for a moment. I had seen many ghosts in my time, but there was only one who took the trouble, from time to time, to make herself known to me. First I made certain we were alone, and only then did I call her name.

  “Princess Teiko.”

  At the sound of her name, the apparition hesitated for a moment, then turned toward me and glided along the garden path toward the veranda. She stopped next to a stone lantern that flickered beside the pond, no more than a few paces distant. She cast no shadow on the water, and the light erased her outline where it touched her. I understood all the implications. She was there and yet she was not there, and that was the worst part of seeing her again. Gone forever and yet, seemingly, here. So close, but I would never touch her again. The pain in my heart was a dull ache, now eclipsed by a worse feeling.

  “I heard it,” she said. There was the same distance in her voice now as in her manifestation. An impossibly long distance.

  “What did you hear, Highness? Me calling your name?”

  “What I dreaded yet expected to hear, eventually. I have heard the longing in my name and the regret, both painful to me, but nothing like this.”

  “I do not understand you. What did you hear?”

  “Anger.”

  For a moment I could not speak. I stared at the ghost of Princess Teiko.

  “I have given my life—” I began, but the ghost was smiling at me.

  “There it is again,” she said. “You were always honest with me, as I was never so with you. That is my regret, but I must plead for your honesty one last time. Not now, not at this place. You are not ready. Yet the time will come, and I will ask, though I have no right.”

  “I am not angry!”

  She looked at me, smiling that same sad smile. I was ashamed, but this changed nothing I felt, or even what I was about to do.

  “I need to find your brother, Highness.”

  “There are many things you need to do, anata. This is not one of them. Not yet.”

  “When, then?”

  “When you’re done. Not before.”

  “Then what must I do now? Will you tell me? What must I accomplish that will free you from this world?”

  “What I already told you to do, only you do not yet understand me,” she said, just before she vanished, taking the ghost light and the light from the lantern with her, leaving me in the darkness of starlight and a gathering moon.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Early the next day I told Kenji most of what had happened in the garden. The anger which shamed me I kept to myself.

  “Are you going to stop looking for Kanemore?” he asked.

  “No. And do not remind me of what Princess Teiko said. I do remember.”

  “And the part about doing what she told you to do?”

  “Look after Princess Tagako? This I do intend to obey, though Princess Teiko said I did not yet understand what she meant. If there is more to this than keeping Tagako-hime alive, then Princess Teiko is quite correct—I do not understand.”

  “As directives from a spirit are concerned, it seemed clear enough,” Kenji said.

  “Apparently not as clear as I had thought,” I said. “I know it is not the specifics of what I will or will not do that is troubling you now.”

  Kenji put his hands on his hips. “Fine, then. Princess Teiko comes to you and carries on what would appear to be, in any other circumstances, a normal conversation between a man and a woman. And yet you learn almost nothing.”

  “It is, in that regard, a very normal conversation,” I said. “What did you expect? She is a ghost. I think if Kanemore was still in her confidence, if her spirit roamed the hallways of t
he palace in the years since her death, counseling her son and brother, Kanemore would have mentioned it before now.”

  “Then why did she say you did not need to find Kanemore?”

  “Likely because she is far less concerned about the activities of her brother and far more concerned about whatever she wishes me to accomplish for the emperor, her son. I do not understand how Tagako-hime is of concern in this regard. I agree, a little counsel on that subject would have been helpful. I cannot fault her for this. Ghosts, as you well know, are usually focused creatures, and nothing not directly related to their situation or thwarted desires has their attention. She no longer belongs in this world and needs to leave it, but she cannot do so until something has been accomplished which I have yet to ascertain.”

  “Really? Consider: Teiko-hime has given you one and only one clear directive,” Kenji said. “Princess Tagako, remember? If that has no bearing on her haunting the living world, why is she so insistent?”

  He had me there, and there was no reason to deny it. “I do not know.”

  “Then perhaps—a suggestion, nothing more—it might do well to concentrate on finding out. It must have something to do with the reason Princess Tagako was targeted for assassination.”

  I considered. “You know, I have not yet had my talk with Master Takamasa. I might be able to discover something new.”

  Kenji sighed. “I suppose you must. Yet I now reluctantly agree it might be worth pursuing. Just step carefully. We already know Takamasa is more than he seems.”

  This was no more than good advice. I chose my time with Takamasa carefully, or rather I chose the time to appear as if I had not chosen the time at all. I knew it was Takamasa’s habit to make a personal inspection of all the rooms within the mansion given over to storage, and it was in one of them that my armor from the Mutsu campaign had been mounted on a form to be stored properly. I don’t know why I had brought it in our supply train from Kamakura, other than my constant expectation of trouble. It was a little disconcerting to see it standing there empty, as if worn by an invisible bushi. I could only imagine what I must have looked like when I wore it. I had never belonged in armor. It was not natural to me, as it was to someone like Kanemore or Morofusa, but it had served my need at the time. When Takamasa made his rounds later that morning, he found me there, admiring the lacings.

  He bowed. “Yamada-sama, I beg your pardon. I did not mean to intrude.”

  “Not at all. I was simply visiting an old friend, so to speak. This armor saved my life on more than one occasion.”

  “When Lord Yoshiie vanquished the Abe Clan, I presume,” Takamasa said. “I had heard much of this war, though I did not realize this suit of armor was the one you wore then. No doubt much could be read from the scarring it suffered.”

  By the widening of his eyes I gathered Takamasa cared more for the subject than I did, so it seemed prudent to feed his curiosity.

  “No doubt. See this gash at the right shoulder? That was an arrow when we stormed the northern river fortress. This slit across the sode? A spear tip, from the first battle of the last campaign when we broke out at the mountain pass. I must have won the favor of some god or another to be standing here now.”

  “Stories of your exploits during that time did reach the Capital,” Takamasa said. “Lord Yoshiie himself spoke of a few, and he clearly holds you in high regard.”

  I considered the risk of questioning Takamasa about his knowledge of things Lord Yoshiie had or had not done, or how he had heard these things, but for the moment deemed it sensible to simply accept that he had, indeed, been in a position to do so and what this might mean. In Takamasa’s voice I did not hear any echo of one who mentioned the names of great men to raise their own standing, only a rather casual revelation. I filed this knowledge away as well.

  “A great deal of what I accomplished was luck and fortune, and much exaggerated at that. Yet I am grateful for Yoshiie-sama’s good opinion and patronage. Still, my position does keep me away from the Capital quite a bit. This is the first time I’ve returned in over three years, and so much has happened in that time. There are even rumors of familial discord within the Fuijiwara clan itself, something unheard of in my time here.”

  “Oh, it is more than rumor, I can assure you,” Takamasa said. “Norimichi has fallen out with his brother, the former chancellor, over the latter’s son. Norimichi considers Morozane an unworthy person and refuses to promote him, rather favoring his own son. This has left the brothers in disagreement.”

  Takamasa’s account matched what little I did know of the situation within the Fujiwara. I considered it the time to press for more.

  “Is this so? I find it impossible to keep abreast of events, even when I am in the city. No sooner had I finished escorting the former high priestess of Ise back to the Capital than I hear rumors that she is to be married. Affairs great and small simply move at too great a pace for one such as myself to keep up.”

  Takamasa looked thoughtful. “I have also heard of this rumor, my lord. It was of course assumed Her Highness would be found an appropriate match once her duties were concluded, but I confess the speed at which the emperor and his counselors have moved once she reached the Capital did surprise me. Of course, the failing health of his late Majesty would have suggested the opportunity . . . nay, rather the obligation for advance planning.”

  Takamasa’s observation was no more than sense, but then sense was so rare an attribute that I had come to value those around me who possessed it, like Kenji, Morofusa, and Princess Tagako. I had to remind myself whoever had placed Takamasa in my household would not have chosen a person who lacked it.

  “Indeed. While I certainly would not assume to question the emperor’s judgment, I am curious as to whom she is betrothed. In my time with Her Highness, we became friends. It would reassure me to know she would be joined to someone worthy of her.”

  “With all due respect, that would not necessarily be the emperor’s primary consideration. Political advantage would be the highest value placed on such a groom.”

  I sighed. “Very true. Indeed, the emperor would be unwise to do otherwise. And I do recognize this is something one such as I should not concern myself about. Yet I admit to a certain . . . curiosity, shall we say. It is my failing.”

  “A failing I share, I fear.” Takamasa apparently came to a decision. “Lord Yamada, if this knowledge is of interest to you, I do have certain connections within the city. One of them might be able to find out who is intended for the princess.”

  “If that is possible, I would certainly make the effort worth your while, Takamasa-san, if it can be done without being too obvious.”

  He bowed. “You may trust my discretion, my lord.”

  Takamasa withdrew, and I watched him go.

  I think your discretion is the most of what I can trust in your regard, Takamasa-san, and that not at all.

  Kenji was not in the best of humors. “Your summons spoiled a very delightful conversation, Lord Yamada. I trust this is important.”

  “It is an overdue visit to Princess Tagako, arranged by messenger not more than an hour ago, and, yes, I consider this important. I am certain she would welcome your company.”

  “I rather doubt that,” Kenji said. “So I have to assume there’s another reason you wish for me to be there.”

  “Mostly to have an extra pair of eyes and ears. I do not always pay attention to everything I should.”

  “Meaning you find Princess Tagako distracting.”

  I glanced at him. “As you do not? She is brilliant and kind. That is a rare combination to find in anyone. ”

  “You forgot to mention ‘lovely.’ ” His smile was more serene than a stone Jizou. “So of course I do, yet I try to be wise as the river is wise, Yamada-sama—I seek my own level.”

  “I am not seeking anything but to obey Princess Teiko’s request and to find answers, answers which will allow both Teiko and myself to find peace. Tagako-hime’s safety, for reasons I do not
yet understand, is important to that end. Nothing else concerns me.”

  “Rubbish,” Kenji said. “But as my evening is already ruined, I may as well go with you.”

  Morofusa and Ujiyasu were waiting for us at the gate, and we set out in silence and remained that way until Kenji broke it as Prince Kanemore’s compound came into view.

  “I wonder if we will walk into chaos again.”

  “I do not think so. If there has been another attempt on the princess in our absence, I will be surprised.”

  Kenji shot me a glance. “You have hinted at this newfound skill of prophecy before. What are you not telling me?”

  “A suspicion, no more than that. We will soon know if I am right.”

  We spoke to Toshihide upon our admittance into the compound, and he confirmed that all had been quiet since the last unpleasantness. This, of course, only made him more uneasy, and he had arranged for extra guards.

  “As we do not know why Princess Tagako is being attacked, we cannot know if or when the danger has passed,” he said. “It is very vexing, yet we must be on guard every moment.”

  Again I could see why Kanemore had placed the man in charge of Tagako’s safety. “We can only hope the situation does not endure forever.”

  Princess Tagako seemed genuinely pleased to see us, to the extent she did see us. The kicho naturally obscured her view of us as much as it did ours of her. Pulling the veil aside, as she was sometimes tempted to do, was a gesture of familiarity that was not really appropriate. Nevertheless, when she spoke, I thought I detected a hint of distraction.

  “I trust your days of forced idleness are proving bearable,” Kenji said.

  “Music helps,” she said, “and I have begun a story in the manner of Lady Murasaki. I only hope I am able to quit this place before I finish it.”