Dragon Sword and Wind Child

by Noriko Ogiwara

At this thought she groaned in despair. Prince Tsukishiro’s hall, shielded by a fence, towered in front of her, its ornamental crossbeams soaring against the red evening sky. The senior handmaiden’s room was the closest of the attendants’ quarters to the Prince’s hall. Staring across at it, Saya felt that the tall, black fence that rose between her and the Prince had never been so high.

  “I have to find out where Torihiko is. I just have to.”

  It was time for the evening meal. She decided to make her way to the kitchens around the back. The servants gathered in the courtyard to the north of this building to take their supper. Thick clouds of steam and heat billowed from the earthen-floored kitchens where the sweat-drenched cooks labored beneath soot-blackened beams. Saya was astonished at the size of the ovens and pots used to feed the palace. Many servants were gathered around an enormous pot ladling out rice stewed with vegetables and various other things into large bowls. The child servants were eating the same fare, and they cradled their bowls carefully as they escaped into the cool back garden. Table manners were unknown and no one scolded them. Filled with the friendly clamor of people enjoying their meal, the place was in a lively uproar. To Saya, the food looked much more appetizing than what the handmaidens ate. It was like what she had eaten at home in Hashiba.

  Catching sight of a group of boys sitting on some rocks shoveling food into their mouths, she walked toward them. She was sure they must know Torihiko.

  “Have you seen Torihiko?”

  One of the boys raised his face to look at her and almost spilled the contents of his bowl at the sight of a long-robed handmaiden standing before him. “Nah. I dunno—I mean, he has not yet arrived, ma’am.”

  “Stupid. He won’t never come,” the boy beside him muttered.

  “Oh, right. I forgot.”

  “He’s probably being made to clean the shrine in punishment.”

  Saya, feigning ignorance, asked, “Why won’t he come?”

  “Someone from Princess Teruhi’s hall took him away. I think there was some complaint. He was always wandering around that place even when he had no business there.”

  Across from Saya, one boy whispered to another, “He boasted that he would sneak into the shrine. If Her Highness knew that, he’d get a hundred lashes.”

  The boys knew nothing of the sacrifice. Saya felt a pang of sorrow. Who would ever tell them? If they knew that one of their friends was to be burned alive, they would not continue to serve here.

  Leaving the kitchens behind, she felt a faint spark of anger kindle in her breast. This was not a childish anger, flaring and fading with her changing moods, such as she had known before. It was the first true anger that she had ever felt.

  THE LADY-IN-WAITING appeared in her room and knelt before her, saying, “I have come to accompany you.”

  Saya was startled but immediately bit her lip and said, “I am ready.”

  The lady-in-waiting drew in her chin, faintly surprised by Saya’s tone. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Nothing,” Saya replied flatly, and saw a vexed expression cross the other’s face. Tonight Saya had the advantage. She was not to be trifled with by the likes of this woman. The two passed wordlessly along the corridors.

  “I have brought Lady Blue,” the lady-in-waiting announced through the door and then withdrew.

  Saya stepped forward, knelt down, and, placing both hands on the floor before her, bowed low.

  Laughter broke the silence. Saya raised her face and saw Princess Teruhi at Prince Tsukishiro’s side, leaning languidly toward him.

  “I was curious to see what face you would wear tonight,” she said with a mocking laugh. “You have spirit at least, and that’s something. I hate whimpering.”

  Saya cast her eyes down demurely but felt a sudden hostility within her. After all, didn’t Princess Teruhi always come between her brother and Saya? Every time Saya had been summoned to his hall it was so.

  “Your Highness,” she said, turning to Prince Tsukishiro. Unlike his sister, the Prince did not mock her but, rather, seemed sympathetic.

  “Come,” he commanded, and Saya approached him, deliberately choosing the side opposite to Princess Teruhi. “I have heard that your servant has been chosen as the sacrifice. However, you must surely know the reason for this choice.”

  Saya’s fingertips, placed decorously before her on the floor, trembled. But she said in a brave voice, “I intended to dismiss him this very day. I won’t allow him to come near the palace again. So please, grant him your pardon.”

  “Do you really believe such a thing is possible?”

  Saya looked squarely at Prince Tsukishiro. “Yes, I do. Like the shadow of an insect straying within these walls, he is unworthy of your notice. It is possible for you to overlook him, just as you allowed me to enter this palace.”

  Prince Tsukishiro laughed wryly. “That you can say such a thing so innocently is very fetching. But it is not possible to free the sacrifice. You must be purified.”

  He checked her as she was about to speak. “This is your test. As long as you remain attached to that servant, you cannot be cleansed of Darkness. By completing the purification ceremony in public, you will become a true handmaiden and attain your rightful station.”

  Throughout, his voice remained gentle. “I intend to make you my bride. This is permitted to a handmaiden. Once the end of the month has passed, we will have a formal ceremony. Your station will exceed even that of the senior handmaiden.”

  Saya was speechless with astonishment. “I—you mean me?”

  “Is it not to your liking?”

  “But I am not qualified.”

  Prince Tsukishiro gave her a captivating smile. “Once again you protest. Yet you are the unrivaled princess and priestess of your own people.”

  She could not tell him that she protested because she did not believe he loved her enough to become his wife. It was no ordinary man but the Prince of Light who was asking her to be his bride. And, she thought gloomily, what sacrifice might she have disregarded had his gaze been only for her?

  “She will surely reject your offer,” Princess Teruhi said, gazing around the Prince’s shoulder at Saya. “The people of Darkness are always more concerned for their comrades than for themselves. If her friend is killed, she will never open her heart to you again.”

  Prince Tsukishiro said without looking at her, “Teruhi, Saya and Sayura are different. Saya is a child of Hashiba. She is not kin to Darkness.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I am a child of Hashiba,” Saya said, contemplating the words. “My father told me to take pride in that. And I intend to do so.”

  Prince Tsukishiro nodded. “That is best. Be purified. As a child of Hashiba, as one of the people of Light. And your undefiled youth will last longer than that of any other.”

  Princess Teruhi looked at Saya like a cat teasing a mouse. “Tonight the moon rises late. It’s a fleeting summer’s night,” she said brightly. “I shall stay here till daybreak and talk the night away. Handmaiden, you may leave us. I summoned you merely to see if you wore a tearstained face. You had best strive to cleanse yourself of defilement. If you understand, then go. Inform my servants that I won’t be returning to my hall tonight.”

  Saya bowed, her face as rigid as stone. “I beg leave to depart.”

  When she had fled from the room, Prince Tsukishiro looked reproachfully at Princess Teruhi. “Was that spite? You are unkind.”

  “To take one such as her for your bride dishonors the name of the Palace of Light,” Princess Teruhi retorted angrily.

  Prince Tsukishiro laughed and shook his head, then took the glass flask and poured some sake into his sister’s cup.

  “Sister, do you not see that this is one way to destroy an enemy? Think what a blow it will be to the forces of Darkness if I make the Water Maiden mine. You wish to kill her, but if you do, she will only return to the Darkness and be reborn again. Instead, I would protect and nurture her innate attraction to th
e Light.”

  “Well, after all, I’m just a woman whose sole talent is destruction,” Princess Teruhi replied sarcastically, turning away. “Anyway, the trap is set. If she shows her true colors as one of the people of Darkness, I will brook no argument from you. I’ll throw her into the iron cage along with the sacrifice and burn them both alive. That way I will feel much easier about leaving for the campaign in the west.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter.” Prince Tsukishiro raised his cup slightly. “I can’t argue with you. Not if you really intend to spend the night here.”

  “Of course. Do you think I would fight with you?” Princess Teruhi replied and, gazing at the Prince, suddenly gave a carefree laugh. “We should be able to pass the night without quarreling. For the end of the month draws near.”

  “Yes, the end of the month draws near,” Prince Tsukishiro repeated. “The moonless, sunless night, the night that comes but once a month to our shining palace.”

  Hearing the concealed hope in his voice, Princess Teruhi grinned rakishly. For a brief moment his concern conveyed to her the fragrance of falling blossoms. Stretching out a graceful arm, she caressed his cheek with her hand, and placed her lips, which carried her sweet breath, upon his.

  2

  SAYA WAS SO furious that she felt like kicking something as she walked along the passageways. Princess Teruhi toyed with her heart as with a bauble. “Inform my servants,” she says. Does she think she can use me as she pleases? I’m not her servant. I’ll go back to my room and sleep.

  But as she walked, her initial anger cooled and changed to an aching pain that snaked its way through her. Strangely enough, it was not the malicious words of Princess Teruhi that had wounded her, but rather Prince Tsukishiro’s proposal to make her his bride. It had been her greatest wish, although she had scarcely dared to dream of it. If only it could have been achieved by any other means.

  Yet she still believed in the righteousness of the immortal Children of Light, and could not stop worshipping them. Their splendor remained unclouded, and even their brutality, their complete disregard for other lives, was pure. For them, human sacrifice was as simple an act as wiping the dust from one’s chair before sitting down, and they probably viewed the total extermination of the people of Darkness in the same way. They felt neither rancor nor prejudice. But for the same reason they could never feel any love for the creatures of the earth. Never.

  Or for me either. Even if his intention to make me his bride is sincere.

  Although it was painful to acknowledge, she could no longer deny it. Now when she imagined herself as Prince Tsukishiro’s wife she felt chilled to the bottom of her soul.

  Is that really what it means to be purified?

  Despondent, she entered her room. The light was out and it was pitch-dark. She fumbled about for the lamp and took the flints out of the box beside it. But as she was about to strike them together, she stopped. In the darkness, Torihiko’s face came vividly to mind, as did his mocking laugh, his affectionate gaze, the nimble movements of his childlike limbs. She remembered his face the time he had snatched her green belt from the river, his easy stroke when swimming in the moonlit pond. Even if the supreme God of Heaven had commanded that these things should be erased from the face of the earth, how could she not oppose it? Torihiko was someone she knew, someone whose blood pulsed in his veins, who lived, who raised his voice in laughter.

  If to be like the immortal Children of Light means to forget Torihiko, to be indifferent to these things, then I can’t do it. If I do, the Saya that I know will die, too. I can’t be purified. I belong—to the people of Darkness.

  Without realizing it, her hands, which gripped the flints, had fallen to her sides. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor. She was stunned and asked her heart once more to be sure. But the answer was clear, intensified by its release from long restraint.

  I belong to the people of Darkness.

  She could not help but feel sorry for herself, a fledgling who had seared its wings trying to soar to the moon, but the knowledge that there was something she must do brought her strength. Quietly replacing the flints in their box, she thought carefully. If I don’t light the lamp, everyone will think that I’m still at the hall. If I’m to do anything, it must be now. Tomorrow the three days of purification will begin and the guard about the palace will become even tighter.

  Torihiko must be held in the shrine he had told her about. She could not think of any other place he might be. Fortunately, Princess Teruhi was far away in the Prince’s hall . . .

  Saya felt a twinge of doubt. Had Princess Teruhi purposely emphasized the point that she would stay there? Was it a trap?

  I can only try it and see.

  Once roused, she could not imagine being able to sleep. She took out a long dark purple cloak from the chest of drawers in the corner and, wrapping it about her, stole carefully out of the room.

  THE RUSTLING OF THE CLOAK against her skirt, which she usually never noticed, made her nervous. Although she regretted wearing it, it was too late now. Once past the high wooden tower, she was in unknown territory. The palace grounds were strictly divided into Princess Teruhi’s in the east and Prince Tsukishiro’s in the west. Although the handmaidens lorded it over others within their own area, one step outside and they would be regarded with glances colder than those given the servants. She knew the layout of the two halls was identical, but lacking Torihiko’s sense of direction, she frequently had to stop and think. She also had to take care that she did not cross the path of the palace guards who patrolled the gardens.

  Still, she felt little fear of danger. This was partly due to her excitement, and partly to her realization that the dark was her ally. In fact, she should have understood this the night she swam in the pond. Despite the darkness, her sight had remained keen, and even the blackness into which shadows seemed to melt had not frightened her. When she was a child, her parents had warned her not to go out at night because an unknown demon lived in the dark, and she had been afraid. But now, knowing that only she herself was concealed by the darkness, the black curtain of night was a friendly robe that protected and enveloped her—a robe as light as wings. As she became accustomed to the dark, she also became extremely sensitive to light, always noticing the guards with their torches before they saw her. With each encounter, her confidence increased.

  Torihiko used to sneak about just like this. Now she could understand why. Although she felt slightly uneasy, she could not deny that she also felt a thrill of pleasure.

  She made her way undetected to Princess Teruhi’s hall. Skirting the familiar handmaidens’ quarters, she climbed over a hedge and came out behind the hall. There she soon ran into a wooden fence more than twice as tall as she. It was solid, built without a single crack between the boards, and surrounded a large area. She was sure that the shrine must be inside. She walked alongside it until she came to the rear of the enclosure, but her heart sank when she saw the entrance. A bright watch fire burned near the gate, which was bolted with a heavy bar, and two guards bearing spears stood motionless before it as though rooted to the spot.

  She hid in the nearby bushes and stared at the gate for a while, but finally turned away, realizing that even if she stayed here all night, there was nothing she could do. It would be impossible to sneak in without some sort of plan. Cursing herself for her lack of foresight, Saya had retraced her steps to the hedge in the garden near the handmaidens’ quarters when she suddenly froze in her tracks. Someone else was moving about without a light in the middle of the night. And there was more than one.

  Have they seen me? she wondered.

  For the first time that night she felt the cold sweat of fear, and she concealed herself under the hedge, pulling her cloak about her. The figures in the darkness continued on, however, showing no sign of looking for someone. Soon they stopped and gathered together to perform some task. It was not hard for Saya to guess what they were doing. The dry scraping sound of a bucket and the muffled sou
nd of water deep underground echoed in the stillness of the night. A well. They were gathered around a well and were drawing water with awkward, jerky movements. To judge from their laborious efforts and their shapes, they were quite old. Curious, Saya drew a little closer, following along the hedge. As she had suspected, they were three old, hunchbacked women.

  They poured the water into an earthenware jar until one of them whispered hoarsely, “That’s enough. It’s overflowing.”

  “Oh, already?” another exclaimed in surprise, dropping the bucket to the bottom of the well with a loud clatter.

  “The water of the star well must not be carelessly wasted.”

  “It was just a little.”

  Yet another of the women gave a deep sigh. “Hasn’t Her Highness returned?”

  “Not yet. Tonight we must carry the water.”

  “Won’t she come back?” the woman lamented. “It seems to me that we are not equal to the task at our age. It’s difficult for these old bones to climb those steps.”

  “I wonder if the one within will struggle tonight.”

  “Those bonds cannot possibly be broken. Her Highness has tied them with great care.”

  “But still . . .”

  “The poor thing. Our blindness is a blessing.”

  One of the women picked up the water jar. “Well, the water is drawn. It’s time to go to the shrine.”

  Saya’s heart began to pound violently. These old women must be the handmaidens who were permitted to enter the shrine with Princess Teruhi. Although she was amazed to see anyone so aged and decrepit within the palace, she was even more surprised that all three of them were blind. The very existence of such women came as a shock, for she had grown used to the fact that all the inhabitants of the palace down to the lowest servant were perfect in face and form. Whether the old women had lost their sight in order to be allowed to enter the shrine or had been specially selected because of their blindness, she did not know, but it was obvious that the shrine was extraordinarily sacrosanct.