by Stan Brown
from the emperor. She carried herself with the pride of a Crane sword master. Chiya usually stood her ground and held the Great Bear's gaze, despite the fact that Kisada physically loomed above her like the Carpenter's Wall over the Shadowlands plains, Chiya usually stood her ground and held the Great Bear's gaze. Today, though, she knelt and bowed politely, never looking him straight in the eye.
"I do not know, Kisada-sama," Chiya said, using her most formal and deferential voice. "I only deliver my lady's word. It is not my place to question, only to serve."
Kisada knew, of course, that the runner would have no knowledge of the missive's contents, but he was enjoying this change in her attitude and wanted to take full advantage of it. The message read:
Kisada-san,
The emperor and I request your presence, or that of a duly designated representative, in the Imperial Palace to attend an imperial proclamation of momentous import. We have instructed the messenger not to return until you or your representative departs for Otosan Uchi. Until that time, please treat her with all the respect and courtesy you would extend the emperor himself.
Her Imperial Majesty Empress Kachiko
The words were pretty, but the message was clear: come to the capital—now!
Kisada shook with fury. The nerve of the Lady Scorpion! Was the emperor so ill that he could no longer write his own correspondence, or was Kachiko beginning to craft imperial policy by herself? Either way, it didn't matter. The Crab Champion had no choice but to send someone to Otosan Uchi immediately. The line about treating Chiya the way he would the emperor saw to that. No one would deign lavish such luxury on a simple runner—to do so would make a mockery of the daimyo's hospitality. Not to do so, though, would be to invite imperial discipline for failing to follow direct orders.
"Should I prepare to leave immediately, Kisada-sama?" Chiya asked.
"No!" spat Kisada. "My representatives will not be ready until nightfall. Until that time, you are afforded the most luxurious accommodations I have to offer—this open-air reception hall. Make yourself comfortable."
The Great Bear rose without further preamble and strode through the silken entryway. Chiya could hear his feet stomping menacingly toward the command tent.
"Yori! Bring my sons to me!" The order was as clear as if the daimyo was still in the courtyard.
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"You're sending Sukune! Why must I go, too?" Yakamo would never question his father's orders in front of other soldiers. But the command tent was empty except for Kisada, Yakamo, Sukune, and Yori, so he spoke his mind.
"Because one day you will have to go to court to represent the Crab." Kisada understood how his son felt, so he chose to explain his order. "When you become daimyo you will not always have the luxury of sending a representative, even one as noble as your brother."
"Bah!" Yakamo wanted to spit on the ground, but he knew that his father would brook no more dissention. "You sent us both last time."
"And as I recall," Sukune chimed in, "you antagonized the Dragon Clan representative and spat on the imperial floor."
Yakamo growled at his brother. It was a feral sound from deep in his throat.
"I have made my decision!" Kisada barked. "You will ride out of camp at sunset."
The three others looked at the daimyo confusedly.
"Why wait so long, my lord?" asked Kuni Yori.
"We can be ready to go before the sun reaches its peak. Why lose so many hours?" Yakamo asked.
"It is a message I am sending back with the runner." Kisada actually smiled.
Sukune smiled too. "A message about power and how to wield it, if I am not mistaken."
"Hai!" the Great Bear laughed raucously. "Now go 'prepare* for your trip."
Yakamo and Sukune withdrew, each eyeing the other antagonistically. Kuni Yori lingered, watching the daimyo.
"Though they look so different, they are brothers—that is for certain!" Kisada shook his head.
"If I may be so bold," Yori said after an interval, "why are you sending your sons in your stead? The empress seems to have something very special planned. One would guess the other daimyo will come themselves. Do you not wish to take this opportunity to meet with your peers? You all gather so rarely these days."
Kisada frowned.
"I . . ." he began, then thought for a moment. "I have my reasons for not wanting to travel to the capital at this time."
Within the shadows of his black velvet hood Kuni Yori grinned. You do not wish to go to Otosan Uchi, he thought. You're afraid that if you even see the emperor or the Emerald Throne, you will be tempted to depose him. You have come so far, Kisada—and you've only a little farther to go.
"In that case, may I humbly offer to accompany your sons on this portentous journey?" Yori bowed formally as he spoke. "I understand your distrust of the empress. I personally would not put it out of her capability to call this meeting to ensorceU the daimyo in order to add to her own power. As counsel to your sons, my presence would be unobtrusive, and I could serve as a safeguard against magical influence."
The Great Bear thought about this and grumbled. "I do not like the emperor, and I do not trust the Lady Scorpion. But even I have trouble seeing this as a threat to my sons."
Yori approached Kisada. "I am certain," he whispered, "that Hantei the 38th said the same about Bayushi Shoju's final visit."
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"What a load of dung!" Yakamo threw his hands in the air.
"For ten days you've been blathering on about how playing the role of the 'proper guest' is a tactical decision that will help you win the war of politics!" He glared at Sukune. "And nothing you've said even begins to convince me that you're doing anything other than playing a stupid game. A game whose ridiculous, pompous, self-important rules were invented by imperial courtiers so that they are the only ones who can win!"
"It is a long-term strategy," said Sukune for about the twentieth time that day. "You do not want to win this 'game' quickly—the only way to do that is to follow the path of the Scorpion."
Kuni Yori rode between the two brothers but said nothing. In fact, with his hood pulled close over his painted face, neither Hida could tell whether he was paying the least attention.
"If you play the game for too long, your opponent has won," Yakamo said adamantly. "The minute you switch your tactics in hopes of gaining the approval of bureaucrats, you've lost any chance of making the changes you really want. If you want to reform the Imperial Court, you must tear it down. There is no way to rebuild it piecemeal."
"So you favor overthrowing the emperor?" Yori's voice startled the brothers.
"N-no," said Yakamo. "Not necessarily. I think that simply ignoring the Imperial Court is a much better solution. If they want their borders secure, they will not interfere with Crab decisions."
"But if they insist on regulating our comings and goings?" Yori played Yakamo the way a geisha played a shamisen—subtly but with great power.
"If they cannot see what is in their own best interest, they deserve whoever's wrath they incur." That was as close to sedition as the elder Hida was prepared to go.
They rode on in silence. It might well have lasted the rest of the day if not for the appearance on the horizon of Otosan Uchi. The capital city gleamed like a jewel at the seaside. Its broad walls stood proudly silhouetted against shimmering waves. In the midst of thousands of rooftops rose the Forbidden
City, a white citadel with a white waterfall. It was their destination, home of the emperor.
"One thing I can say for polite hospitality," muttered Yakamo, "is that the emperor will offer us food and drink no matter how much he wishes we would go away."
Sukune laughed.
"Still," the younger Hida said, "we'd do well not to arrive like ravenous vagabonds. We don't want the other clans to think we are incapable of feeding ourselves."
Yakamo grunted his agreement.
About an hour later they rode through the gates. Just beyond the entrance, a small city of tents an
d shacks beckoned to travelers, offering basic supplies, spiritual guidance, and food in abundance.
The trio rode up to a soba shop. A nice bowl of cold noodles would fill their bellies but allow them to get back on the road quickly.
"It has been a while since I saw your dueling form, Hida Yakamo," said a samurai-ko who sat in the shade, loudly slurping her noodles as they approached. It was Mirumoto Hitomi. "Why don't you climb down off that horse and finish what we began two years ago?"
To answer the challenge in any way would be unwise. If Yakamo refused, he would seem afraid to fight. If he agreed, he would have to fight a duel to the death. Yakamo looked at her with utter disdain but said nothing. He glanced meaningfully at his brother, as if to say: See? I can hold my tongue when the moment is right.
Yakamo dismounted and entered the shop without even looking in Hitomi's direction. Sukune and Yori followed him. Both made a point of watching the Dragon in case she planned some treachery. Inside, they each ordered a bowl of cold buckwheat noodles and sake, and then came back out to find a bench where they could sit in the shade, hopefully far from Hitomi. Thankfully, the samurai-ko was gone by the time they returned.
Soon the group was happily slurping their noodles and clearing the dust from their throats with delicious, if watered down,
sake. It was a fine meal on a hot afternoon.
"All fed and watered now, Crab?" Hitomi had returned, but this time she had brought a retinue of Dragon samurai with her.
"Mirumoto-san," said Sukune, "under normal circumstance my brother and I would be glad to invite you to join us and our counselor in a midafternoon tea ceremony to honor the fates for bringing us together again. However, we are bound for the Forbidden City on a most urgent matter, and we will have to take our leave of you immediately. I apologize."
The younger Hida proved again what a brilliant tactician he was. There were no flaws in his speech. Any further challenge or antagonism on Hitomi's part would reflect very badly 011 the Dragon Clan.
"I too am bound for the Forbidden City," said Hitomi, "and I say your brother can spare the time to indulge me in a duel to see if his skills outrank those of the Mirumoto School. Unless of course he would be willing to concede the point."
The other Dragon samurai's mouths dropped. The only ruder thing Hitomi could have done would be to draw her katana and attack the man. The look in her eyes spoke that very desire.
Yakamo looked coolly at the samurai-ko—the way he might look at a noisy dragonfly that disturbed the quiet of the afternoon. He stood, reminding everyone of just how much larger he was than the Dragon, used his tongue to pick some noodles from between his back teeth, and turned toward his horse.
"Come, Brother, we need to be on our way," Yakamo said lazily.
Kuni Yori spent the whole time standing behind Sukune. The opposing samurai would interpret this position as fearful. In truth the shugenja clutched his black silk, preparing to draw on its power should the Dragon retinue become more than verbally belligerent.
"You arrogant bastard!" Hitomi's fists were clenched, and her hair seemed to bristle. "Do you think that you can kill my brother and completely ignore the rest of the Mirumoto family? Do you have so little respect for the man you murdered that you deny me the right to revenge?"
Yakamo stopped. He slowly looked back over his shoulder.
"It is out of respect for your brother that I do not kill you as well, little Dragon," he said through clenched teeth. "Your behavior when last we dueled was scandalous enough that I am surprised you have the nerve to talk about anyone's cowardice. Attacking an ally is not a practice for an honorable samurai. I understand how overwhelming bloodlust can be. I was willing to forgive your transgression, given that you Dragons so rarely see real battles."
"Our battle never reached a resolution. Any honorable samurai would have sought me out when the siege was done. Or perhaps you are merely the same bullying coward as your father—willing to fight only when you know you can win."
Yakamo glared at her silently. When he finally spoke, his voice was as quiet and sharp as an assassin's blade. "Your grief is great, Hitomi, and I am willing to overlook your slights against me. But my patience is not endless, and I will not allow you to slander my daimyo."
Hitomi smiled. At last she'd found the right nerve to tug.
"Your father needs no words from me to slander his name. All it takes is his own selfish disinterest in the empire," the samurai-ko said these words clearly and distinctly so as to heighten their impact. "At a time when the empire needs warriors, he stays on his wall and turns his back on the rest of us. What kind of bravery is that? No, Hida Kisada is a coward— and you are his mirror image. Too afraid to accept a fair fight, even within sight of the emperor's protection."
Yakamo turned and took three tremendous steps toward Hitomi.
"Very well," he said. His voice was calm but an undertone of menace ran through it. "You may have your match. But if we fight I will not take pity on you for being such a fool. You are the one who has asked for this, and you are the one upon whom all the consequences fall."
Hitomi laughed. "Spare me your threats, Crab," she said. "I know who I'm facing. I know what you're capable of. And before we even start, I already know the outcome."
Yakamo grunted.
The two turned and stalked side by side toward a nearby dueling school, where a legal, honorable, and highly public match could be arranged.
Students of every ability level practiced in the large courtyard. The younger students performed their kata in long, neatly aligned rows. The intermediary students fought mock battles where every blow was choreographed like a Noh drama. Along the periphery the advanced students gathered around dueling pits, small arenas where two of their fellows fought one on one, using bokken.
The Crab and Dragon samurai followed them over to one of the pits. Yakamo and Hitomi's faces were set with grim determination. The others wore worried expressions. This was clearly more than a simple duel. Yakamo and Hitomi approached a group of sensei, explained their challenge, and asked to make use of the dueling arena.
The eldest of sensei agreed, with the provision that he and his colleagues act as referees for the match. He could see the burning hate in both combatants' eyes. This would be a match to first blood, not to the death.
Hitomi and Yakamo agreed, but each knew the first hit would be deadly.
Word spread quickly through the streets of Otosan Uchi. Before long, students, teachers, and visitors alike crowded around the pit. They stood five and six deep, craning their necks to see the combatants as they prepared for their duel
Mirumoto Hitomi knelt in one corner, her head bowed in meditation. She had her katana drawn and laid across her lap.
At the other end of the pit, Hida Yakamo stomped around and shook his head like a caged animal. He swung his tetsubo through the air in great arcs that passed frighteningly close to the first row of the crowd.
"Is it wise to allow this to go on?" Sukune whispered to Yori.
"Do you know of a way to stop it?" the shugenja returned.
The young Hida leaned his head to the left as he thought, then simply shook it.
"There is a tension between these two that must be released," Yori said. "Their karma has been intertwined for many years. This day was unavoidable. What's more, this may not be the end of it."
Mirumoto Hitomi stood and faced her opponent.
"Come," she said, "let this battle—the same battle we began here at Otosan Uchi during the Scorpion Coup—be finished here and now!"
Yakamo spat at her feet.
At the sensei's direction, they both took their stances. Hitomi adopted a classic dueling pose. Yakamo held his tetsubo over his head as though he were going to bring it crashing down on the referee.
"Remember," the sensei said, "this fight is to first blood only. May your actions bring honor to your clans."
Both contestants grunted.
"You may begin."
Hitomi sto
od still, studying her opponent. She looked for a point of weakness, a chink in his defense.
Yakamo snarled. He did not anticipate this kind of thoughtful fight from the Dragon. She was so angry and belligerent, he expected her to come right out and charge him the way she had last time. But apparently the young Mirumoto remembered what happened when her brother used that tactic in his final duel.
The Crab stomped one tremendous foot as though he would make the first charge. He pulled back and lowered his tetsubo. Standing with the weapon poised overhead would only tire his arms and slow his defenses.
Some of the novice students whistled and called for the pair to "stop dancing and start fighting!" Wiser members of the audience avidly watched the tension and drama unfold.
Both Hitomi and Yakamo made subtle shifts in their posture, testing the other's reaction. Hitomi dropped her left elbow and turned her katana perpendicular to the ground. Yakamo held his tetsubo directly in front of his body, pointing down at the Dragon's feet. Yakamo began to swing his club in looping figure-eights. Hitomi stood with her sword inverted directly over her head so the blade tip pointed at the bridge of the Crab's nose.
The moment lasted long.
Yakamo swung at Hitomi's midsection. She pivoted on her heel, spun, and lashed out, narrowly missing Yakamo's forearm. Some would argue later that the sarnurai-ko could easily have nicked the Crab then and there, ending the duel. For these combatants, though, merely winning was not enough. They wanted only the complete destruction of their foe.
Hitomi launched the next volley. She took two steps toward her opponent and nimbly ducked under his tetsubo. It whizzed where her head had just been. Doing a forward tumble, she rose within inches of Yakamo and struck directly up with her katana.
The crowed gasped.
The gigantic samurai thrust himself into a backward somersault, avoiding the deadly blow and coming up in a swinging stance.
He feinted for Hitomi's head, then swung down and across her body, hoping to clip her shoulder or knee—but missed entirely. The swing left his neck exposed, and he hoped the samurai-ko would take the bait. All it would take was one step toward her and a pivot of his hips to send her flying out of the pit and three rows deep into the spectators.