PRINCE TSUKISHIRO looked at his sister, his face an emotionless mask. “As I said, what you cannot see is the direction in which my passion lies.”
His voice was very quiet. Princess Teruhi returned his gaze with a baffled expression, then turned her back on him abruptly. “Of all things, I like least the frivolous words of men,” she said and left without a backward glance.
With a start, Saya hastily pressed the palms of both hands to the floor and bowed low. “Pardon me, but I beg your leave to depart,” she mumbled hastily and dashed out of the room. Peering through the darkness, she ran along the wood floor of the passageway, brushing the entangling train of her skirt roughly aside. Perhaps the noise of her steps reached the Princess’s ears, for she turned at the corner and looked back, allowing Saya to catch up.
“P–please!” Saya leaned against a pillar and gasped for breath, thankful for the darkness. Without it, she could not have spoken like this to someone who inspired such fear in her. “Please! Tell me.
How did Princess Sayura die?”
A faint glow like starlight seemed to float from Princess Teruhi’s clothes as she stood in the darkness. But Saya could see only her slender silhouette, and not the expression on her face.
“Please!”
“Well, well. You’re brave, or perhaps ‘foolish’ would be more apt,” said Princess Teruhi, scrutinizing her.
“Is it true that Princess Sayura took her own life?”
“Quite true,” Princess Teruhi replied bluntly. “Your people considerately die one after the other. As soon as the odds look bad, you kill yourselves. Of course, you’re reborn, but I will never recognize that as a strength. To die is to escape. It is weakness. Try standing in the shoes of we who may never hope to, nay, are not permitted to run away from our mistakes. Do you understand? Because the next time you throw yourself into the pond, I will wrap a rake in your hair and drag you out. Be prepared.”
And with those words, she walked away, leaving Saya in pitch darkness. She slumped down onto the cold floor. Her head ached in confusion. But one thing she had clearly understood.
Prince Tsukishiro’s gaze is not directed at me. Not now, not ever. He doesn’t see me.
At first she had thought he was seeing Princess Sayura rather than herself. But she had been wrong. Perhaps Princess Sayura had grown weary of life because she realized that his heart was not hers. While drawn to the Water Maiden, in reality he was gazing far into the distance, and even the Prince himself did not really understand. But Saya did, and most likely Princess Sayura had, too: the object of his gaze was Teruhi’s reflection glimpsed in the water’s surface.
Intuition, like the sixth sense of a small animal, gave her this insight. That the immortal twins quarreled every time they met was not simply because they did not get along. It was because they revolved around each other like orbiting stars. Just let an outsider try to intrude upon such an unfathomable love-hate relationship, to break the intense bond in which the violence of their feelings caused them to repel each other!
No mortal can possibly ease the Prince’s pain, the rift created by the gods, when heaven and earth were sundered. No one can but the two immortals themselves, the sun and the moon who each represent one half of the other.
Saya knew that she had at last discovered the truth, but it did not help her. She could only meditate on the emptiness of her two open hands.
“PERHAPS we should call for a physician. For Lady Blue,” the senior handmaiden said to her assistant after Saya had left. The assistant, who was putting away the writing desk, turned and smoothed her hair.
“But she has become much more pliable. With the ceremony soon to take place, a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”
“Ah, but it makes me nervous when she is so well behaved day after day. There was a time when she ate a shameful amount, yet recently she hardly touches her food. I wonder if she is ill.”
“I see what you mean. Perhaps you’re right.” The assistant pondered the problem.
“It would be bad for our reputation if people thought that she had become ill because we harassed her. We’ll have to do something,” the senior handmaiden said.
It did not take long for her quick-witted assistant to come up with a plan. “A physician might be overdoing it. But what if we gave her a child servant? Having no servant of her own, she has had to do everything for herself. Perhaps this would ease her burden.”
The other woman nodded in agreement. “An excellent idea. And perhaps if she had her own servant, the other girls would be less inclined to treat her as a serving girl.”
“Well, as to that, who knows,” said the assistant with a faint sneer.
EVERYTHING SEEMED like too much trouble. It was partly the change in climate: the rainy season had been followed by intense summer heat and relentless sunshine. But more than anything else, Saya, who had never before lost her appetite from heartbreak, was defeated by herself. Her confidence in every area had evaporated, and she no longer even hoped to continue as a handmaiden.
Maybe if I fall ill and die, Princess Teruhi won’t revile me, she thought. But it would be too galling to be confined to her bed and treated as a nuisance by the coldhearted people of the palace. She longed for her home in the east. There, when the heat became intense, they had swum freely in the river and brought out benches at night to sleep under the stars. But neither the cool breeze nor the fresh morning dew reached the deep recesses of the palace. There was only the sun glaring down on the hard dry earth. Summer in the palace hung heavy and stagnant.
One sleepless night, Saya thought she really would die. Although she did not really understand what it meant to die, it seemed as if her soul was flailing wildly trying to escape her physical frame and all its troubles. It no longer mattered to her whether it would be she who discarded her body or she who would be left behind. She only knew that if she could just get away, she could find relief and flee into the bracing freedom of emptiness. Like a bird, something within her beat its wings, poised for the moment of flight.
If I’m going to die anyway, I don’t want to leave my body lying here, she thought suddenly. I’d rather die in a purer place—yes, in cool, peaceful water . . .
She imagined her hair spreading out like a fan on the water, swaying gently like waterweeds. That would not be so bad. It would look beautiful. She sat up abruptly. All was quiet and it seemed that the night watch was far away. Stealthily she slid open the double doors. The half moon hung in the midnight sky, casting a clear light. Its reflection floated serenely on the still surface of the ancient pond surrounded by a thick grove of trees. Drawn by the deep stillness of the water’s surface, Saya stepped forward only to stop dead in her tracks. A small black shadow, like that of a little urchin, crouched at the top of the steps, blocking her path.
“Who’s there?” she whispered hoarsely. “What do you think you’re doing in front of my room?”
“I have been sent as your new servant,” the shadow replied. “I have come to serve you.”
“I don’t recall summoning you. Get out of my way.”
“I have some skill as a physician. I was told that you weren’t feeling well.”
“I have no need of a physician either,” Saya replied firmly.
“Really?” The child’s tone suddenly changed.
Saya caught her breath in amazement. She had heard that voice before. “Torihiko! Is that really you?” Kneeling down, she could make out his large mouth opened in a grin, and his sparkling acorn eyes. Still she could hardly believe it. This boy always appeared at the most extraordinary times.
“Officially I am your servant, Lady Blue,” Torihiko said gaily. “The senior handmaiden told her footman, the footman told the guard, the guard told a servant, and the servant grabbed an appropriate-looking person from outside the gate. It seems that even the notorious palace guard has a few holes in its armor.”
“But this is insane!” Her voice rose and she hastily lowered it. “I don’t like it.
The two of us together—think what would happen if your identity were known. Even if we tell them we are not plotting, no one would believe us. Why did you come? You know how dangerous it is!”
“I came because I am plotting, of course,” Torihiko said coolly. “Why are you always so slow? You heard about the Dragon Sword. That sword will determine our fate, so naturally, I want to get it back.”
“Well, it has nothing to do with me,” Saya said. Then she suddenly stood up, drawing in a sharp breath. “You . . .” she said in a low voice, clenching her fists. “Surely you didn’t plan this all along, that I should come unsuspecting to the palace, just so you could get your foot in the door?”
“I thought I told you to remember that this was your own choice,” said Torihiko, laughing. Not knowing how to reply to that, she crouched down and looked at him crossly.
“It’s all right, Saya. You don’t have to do a thing. It’s even all right if you love Prince Tsukishiro. You still won’t give me away, right?”
She turned away primly. “Don’t be so sure. I’m a member of the palace now. Who knows what I will do . . .”
“Are you really happy here, as a handmaiden?” Torihiko asked, his voice suddenly filled with unexpected concern. Once again Saya was unable to reply. Before she could stop them, tears began to flow and she cursed herself, wishing she could do something about this new habit.
Torihiko watched her silently while she struggled to control her weeping, and then said calmly, “Let me speak as a physician, Lady Blue: the primary cause of your melancholy is that for far too long you have lacked contact with the earth, with water, with green and growing plants. You’re not the kind of person who can live apart from these things. Like a wild bird in a cage, you will lose the will to live. You have to get outside.”
“Yes.” She nodded like a little child. “You’re right. I’ve been longing to do all the things they’ve said I mustn’t do. Just now I couldn’t control my urge to dive into that pond.”
“Then don’t try to control it. Go for a swim,” Torihiko suggested simply. “It’s sticky and humid tonight. A swim would be perfect. I need one, too. I stink of sweat.”
Saya’s eyes grew round. “But it’s the palace pond. You wouldn’t dare do such an outrageous thing,” she started to protest when suddenly her sense of mischief overcame her. It was the first time in a long while. “But then it’s so out of the way that the guards probably wouldn’t see us. Maybe no one will ever find out.”
“Of course they won’t find out. No one here would ever dream of doing such a thing.”
At Torihiko’s lighthearted urging, Saya jumped to the ground in her bare feet. The familiar sensation of earth against the soles of her feet, the pungent fragrance of grass and trees in the dead of night, and, best of all, the summer darkness wrapped her in a close embrace. There could be no sweeter pleasure than to do what was forbidden. Like a nocturnal creature, she stole through the shadows, suppressing her excitement, until she came to the grove of ancient trees in the depths of the garden. Here, blinded by the darkness, the trees dreamed the dream of a deep mountain forest. Enticed by a gentle breeze, the grove was enveloped in the ancient song of the pine, the long-ago tale of the cedar. The moss on the bank of the pond was warm and damp; it felt as if she were standing on the back of a furry creature. Looking at the moon floating on the water’s surface, she laughed aloud.
Torihiko was undressed first. He slid into the pond and parted the water with easy graceful strokes.
“You swim like a frog,” Saya commented as she slipped into the water.
The water in the pond was softer than river water and the sensation filled her with exhilaration. She had never swum at night before, but there was no undercurrent and nothing frightening lurked in the water, which seemed to have been cleansed by the moonlight. She swam like a fish, gliding this way and that, forgetting all her cares. She could now laugh at the troubles that she had previously thought would cause her to waste away. Torihiko’s appearance seemed another rich joke. Whatever would be would be.
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful just to turn into one of the fish in this pond?” she said as she floated on her back. As if in response, a huge carp leaped right beside her. For an instant his scales and fins flashed like silverwork in the moonlight. Saya laughed aloud.
“Did you see that, Torihiko? It was the king of the pond.”
“Why don’t you give him our greetings? Tell him we apologize for swimming in his pond without asking his leave,” Torihiko responded from the far bank. Pretending to obey his command, Saya dived neatly underwater. Naturally, it was dark, but, surprisingly, she could see—or rather, she could see the carp. His body seemed to glow with a faint light. He was magnificent—longer than her arm and fit to be called a king. His whiskers were long, too, and his face seemed very ancient.
She could see all this clearly because he had swum up close to her, apparently curious. He seemed to know no fear. Then, waving his fins in front of her nose, he spoke.
“So I’m not the only one who wishes to become a fish on a summer’s night. But if that is your wish, why not turn into a carp? Your body is much too awkward to enjoy swimming properly.”
Saya thought it was Torihiko teasing her. In her surprise, she exhaled and had to swim quickly to the surface. When she turned her head, Torihiko was standing on the bank squeezing water from his hair.
“Torihiko!” she screamed without thinking. A sharp stab of fear went through her as she was suddenly pulled under, swallowing a great mouthful of water. If Torihiko had not realized that something was wrong and pulled her out, she would have drowned. When she finally lay clinging to a rock, racked by coughs, a light appeared between the trees. Torihiko started and blinked his eyes in surprise. Two forms stood at the top of the bank: Princess Teruhi, with a torch in her hand, and a manservant carrying a rake.
“I thought I warned you that I would wind a rake in your hair and drag you out,” Princess Teruhi said, her voice charged with anger. “Do you wish to drown yourself so badly that you would risk such humiliation?”
“I was just swimming,” Saya gasped, still coughing. In her close brush with death, she had mislaid all courtesy. “Get out of my way and let me out please. There’s an evil spirit in this pond. Let me out of here.”
“Oh-ho! An evil spirit, she says.” Princess Teruhi feigned an exaggerated interest, as if baiting her. “You certainly have some nerve to claim that there is an evil spirit in the Mirror Pond, in the very midst of the Palace of Light.”
Saya, her coughing finally under control, was slipping on her clothes, her hair streaming with water, but she said defensively, “It’s true. A carp came and talked to me. He looked straight at me and asked why I didn’t become a fish like him. He said, ‘So I’m not the only one who wants to become a fish on a summer’s night.’ ”
The manservant had his back turned to Saya out of propriety, but his shoulders suddenly began to shake. He seemed to be having difficulty suppressing his mirth.
Princess Teruhi, however, did not laugh. Her eyes narrowed for an instant; then, she said casually, “You never cease to entertain us. If you’re going to walk around half-asleep, you could at least do it more quietly.”
“It wasn’t a dream. I would never dream such a crazy thing,” Saya said hotly, and then quickly held her tongue as Princess Teruhi’s gaze suddenly grew fierce.
“It was a dream. Don’t mention it again,” the Princess snapped, her voice shaking with anger.
“WHAT ON EARTH could it have been?”
The next morning, Saya still puzzled over it. Her grief and her desire to kill herself seemed unreal now; the evening had ended in farce. Yet, while the longing to die had certainly vanished like a dream, the carp’s voice still echoed in her ear. Torihiko, of course, assured her that it had not been he.
“A long time ago, even the trees and the plants could talk, or so they say. But now when there are so few gods left, that’s not possible. And I can’t imagine th
at one of the gods could still be alive in the middle of the Palace of Light. This is the last place a god would be.” Torihiko shrugged. “It must have been your imagination, no doubt caused by an empty stomach.”
“Even you don’t believe me?” Saya said indignantly. But when she thought about it, she was starving. Her appetite seemed to have returned. Once again her normal self, she hurriedly headed for the morning room.
If I hear that voice again, I’ll recognize it, she thought.
She continued thinking about it while she ate. It was not an evil voice. Rather, it was a young voice: distinctive, guileless, and, considering that she had heard it for the first time, somehow familiar. Princess Teruhi behaved strangely. She must have some idea whose voice it was. She knows something. There must be something there.
chapter
three
CHIHAYA
I long to fetch water from the mountain brook,
bedecked with Japanese rose,
but alas for me that I know not
the way which I must go.
— Prince Takechi
Chihaya
“THE SACRED RITUAL OF purification is essential for the elimination of the evil and defilement that unavoidably cling to those who live upon this impure earth, and for the attainment of heavenly purity. In particular, the great purification ceremony, held twice a year, is essential to cleanse the entire Palace of Light and preserve its honor.” The senior handmaiden was instructing a group of five or six younger novices, including Saya.
“On that day the Prince and the Princess, followed by all those in important positions, will assemble beside the Nakase River at the West Gate and wash all defilement into the river. Therefore you must on no account fail in your task. The handmaidens of Princess Teruhi’s hall will also be performing the ceremony at the river, so be careful that you do not disgrace us.” She placed particular emphasis on the final words. There was considerable rivalry between the attendants of the Prince and the Princess. Although Saya sat respectfully, listening with one ear to the lecture, her mind was wandering.
Dragon Sword and Wind Child Page 8