The Initiate Brother Duology

by Russell, Sean

  “It concerns me little whether, in this matter, you told the truth, brother,” Jaku said, leveling his gaze at his kinsman.

  Tadamoto looked down at his wine. “It does concern the Emperor, however.”

  “Ah, yes, the Emperor. In your reading of history, brother, has it come to your attention that dynasties do not just rise, they have also been known to fall?”

  Tadamoto shook his head as though overcome by great sadness. “It has not escaped my notice, General, nor has it escaped my notice that in all of our history there have been only six dynasties while the same period has seen the fall of ten thousand ambitious advisors. It is a point that I feel is worthy of careful consideration, just as I think you should consider the meaning of your present appointment. The Emperor does not need to act as a teacher to his advisors and would only do so when such an advisor was dear to him.”

  Jaku banged his fist on the table but then stopped the rush of anger and calmed himself. His face became almost serene. “I am not a child in need of instruction, brother. The Emperor owes much of his security to the Jaku and I have not forgotten this.”

  “Perhaps not, Katta-sum, but Denji Gorge has not been forgotten either.”

  Jaku now shook his head sadly, as though he had just heard a terrible lie from a favored son. “I am loyal to my family and their interests, brother. Has that been forgotten?”

  “It is something we have in common, Katta-sum. I, too, am concerned with the interests of our family. I would not want to see the Jaku’s position undermined by ill-considered ambition.”

  “Was it ill-considered ambition that secured us our present position, brother? Was it fear of our own shadows that brought the Jaku to the Emperor’s attention? It is interesting to me that suddenly you have taken it upon yourself to arbitrate in this matter, deciding what is and what is not in the interests of our family. It must be a terrible burden to bear at your age. Of course, the Emperor must be delighted to see such a man making these decisions—a man with no personal ambition.” Katta held his hand over his wine bowl as though warming himself—a hand that showed no sign of the tremor of anger. “I have forgotten to congratulate you, Colonel Jaku. I understand that you will act as Commander of the Imperial Guard while I am away from the capital. Your lack of ambition seems to have worked admirably for you.”

  Tadamoto stared down at his hands. “Perhaps this journey you undertake will allow you time to reflect on these matters we have discussed, Katta-sum. I believe that was the Emperor’s true purpose in assigning you this task. Few rulers would overlook the implications of a situation such as Denji Gorge. You are being treated with great kindness, brother, though I know you do not see it. If I may give you some advice: don’t underestimate our Emperor, Katta-sum. It is a grave and dangerous error; dangerous not just for yourself.”

  Katta said nothing but only stared at his younger brother with a look of undisguised contempt. The steady rhythm of the oarsmen stopped and the boat glided on smoothly.

  “We have come to the edge of the city, brother,” Jaku said coldly, “from here I go on alone.”

  Tadamoto nodded, but his gaze fell on the serving table where the final course of sweet rice cakes waited; the course that was offered for luck on the journey. He bowed deeply and rose to his feet, not meeting his brother’s eyes. “It saddens me, Katta-sum, but perhaps you will reconsider in time. I am truly your loyal brother, more loyal than you realize. I would not see you…” Tadamoto stopped in mid-sentence as Katta rose and turned away, leaving the deckhouse by the rear shoji.

  Jaku Tadamoto stood for a moment staring at the screen, struggling with an urge to go after his brother. This is not the companion of my childhood, Tadamoto reminded himself, nor is this one of the child’s moods. This is a grown man who makes difficult decisions and lives by them. He will not listen to me. Only time can teach such a man…if he has that much time. Turning on his heel, Tadamoto left the cabin for the boat waiting to return him to the Island Palace.

  * * *

  From the upper deck Jaku Katta watched his brother go, watched his sampan disappear into the mist and the traffic on the canal. He gripped the railing that was wet with condensation and watched his breath come out in a fine mist. The cold of late autumn was in the air and a breeze from the far off ocean pulled at his uniform.

  Jaku shook his head. The sight of his brother with the Emperor’s Sonsa still haunted him. None of my lieutenants would have succumbed to such a ploy, he told himself. Jaku felt an unusual sadness come over him. My own brother, he thought, my own blood. He wiped his hand along the rail, sending a shower of water raining down onto the lower deck. Did not Hakata say that betrayal was the greatest unhappiness of honorable men? He dried his hand on his robe. Jaku Katta, the general thought, is not happy.

  Turning from the rail, he returned to his cabin and, sitting down, ladled himself a bowl of hot wine. From the sleeve pocket of his outer jacket he took a sheet of pale green paper. It was the poem he had received a few days earlier from the lady in question, Lady Nishima Fanisan Shonto.

  The wind whispers its secrets

  To so many,

  It is difficult to tell

  From where the wind blows.

  Perhaps it is loyalty we should speak of.

  Jaku sipped his cha and read the poem again. He felt a thrill every time he looked at the elegant hand of the Lady Nishima. There was a part of him that would hardly believe such a woman could be his—yet he did not doubt that she was; or would have been if he had not been forced to leave the capital so suddenly. He had tried to see the lady before his departure, but she had been ill and unable to receive him. He cursed aloud. His plans were falling to pieces all around him and the Lady Nishima was central to his designs. Damn Tadamoto!

  Jaku took another drink of his wine and calmed himself, breathing slowly. It was not over yet. The Black Tiger was still alive. There were still those at court who were indebted to him and there were even a few of his people, missed in the purge, who remained near the Emperor. It was far from over. That coward Tadamoto could do him little harm now, and Jaku’s agents in the palace would be looking for a chance to undermine the younger brother’s position with the Son of Heaven. The Emperor trusted no one, so it would not be difficult to arouse suspicions about the brilliant young colonel. Jaku smiled. It would be almost too easy.

  Thirty

  Our river boat

  Pushes its bow into blue waters,

  Dividing the rushing currents

  Even as my spirit divides;

  Half staying with you,

  Half going north.

  In the depths of the sky

  The last geese are bound

  For the hidden south.

  I would send my spirit with them,

  Stragglers all.

  THE LADY NISHIMA swirled her brush in water, watching the black ink curl out from it in sweeping coils. I will call the series Secret Journeys, she thought as she read the poem again. Kitsura-sum and Lady Okara may see them after we arrive in Seh—a chronicle of our journey, and of my inner journey also. She set the brush carefully on a jade rest carved in the shape of a tiger, then rose from her cushion. Through the stern window she could just see the bow of the boat behind as it cut through the mist and the constant drizzle that seemed to travel with them.

  The mist over the canal

  and the sound of rain

  on wooden decks,

  Traveling companions.

  Yes, Nishima thought, that will be part of Secret Journeys also.

  She went back to her cushion and the charcoal fire that warmed her small cabin. Three days now they had been on the canal and she had not dared to show her face on deck. Lady Okara had gone out that morning and told Nishima that the mists would certainly hide her from the curious, but Nishima decided it would be better to wait. They were still too close to the capital for her to feel they had truly escaped. Kitsura shared this feeling, so the two young women spent their days below, often sharing meals
and talking late into the night.

  After lengthy discussion in the Omawara House, it had been decided that it would be best for Kitsura to travel north with Nishima before an official offer was made on behalf of the Emperor. No doubt Kitsura’s flight would still be taken as an affront to the person of the Emperor, but it was believed the Omawara were prominent enough to survive such a thing. It was, after all, entirely the Emperor’s fault for not conforming to the proper etiquette of the situation.

  Of course it was uncommon for a family not to want their daughter to become an Empress, but Kitsura had confided to Nishima something her father had said: “This is a dangerous situation. If there is a new Empress there will be new heirs and that will raise the jealousy of the Princes and their supporters. If the Emperor were to fall or to pass on through illness, the new Empress and her children would be in grave danger.”

  So the Lady Kitsura Omawara set out secretly for the north in the company of her cousin and the famous painter, Lady Okara Haroshu.

  A rumor was spread that a Lady Okara Tuamo traveled north with her two over-protected daughters. The name Tuamo was so common that a person bearing it could belong to any of a dozen families of moderate position. The few guards and servants who accompanied the women, though well enough appointed, wore no livery and could have been the staff of any well-to-do minor House. They would raise no suspicions.

  Nishima rang a small gong and a servant appeared. “Please have my inkstone and brushes cleaned and ask my companions if they will join me for the evening meal.” The servant took up the writing utensils, bowed, and left silently.

  Is she afraid? Nishima wondered. Of course, no one on her staff knew all the reasons for this journey, but they understood that it was made in secret for they were, of necessity, party to the ruse. No doubt that had an effect on them. The Shonto have such loyal staff, Nishima thought, would I be like this if my karma had brought me into this world to a completely different station?

  It was, she knew, idle speculation—duty was duty and the spirit that appeared in the world as Nishima Fanisan Shonto understood this concept only too well. It was duty that took her to Seh and duty that led her to carry the coins which she could feel lying against the soft skin of her waist. Despite her rather romantic view of this “Secret Journey” Nishima understood the danger she could be in. The coins she carried were like a terrible secret; one that she was sure had the potential to tear the Empire apart.

  Rising again, she went to the small port which looked out the starboard side. Calypta trees lined the bank, standing in a litter of fallen leaves. Like tears, Nishima thought as she gazed at the scattered leaves, and the trees seemed bent under a weight of sadness. She felt this sense of melancholy herself as though it traveled through the medium of the mist.

  The calypta gave way to a grassy shore and in the clearing stood a shrine to the plague-dead. She made a sign to Botahara. “May they attain perfection in their next lives,” Nishima whispered.

  Less than ten years since the plague had swept through Wa and already it seemed a distant memory, as though it had been a chapter of ancient history, yet it had taken a huge toll, including many people close to Nishima, even her true father. It is too terrible to remember, Nishima thought. We bury the memories so that they only surface in our most frightening dreams. A knock on the shoji brought her back to the present.

  “Yes?”

  “Lady Kitsura, my lady.”

  Nishima smiled, “Please show her in.”

  A rustle of silk and the scent of a fine perfume preceded the young aristocrat through the door.

  “Ah, the artist has been at work.” Kitsura said, glancing at the paper on Nishima’s writing table.

  “Notes to myself,” Nishima said, the polite response when one did not wish to share one’s writings with another.

  Kitsura nodded; they had many understandings, and this was one—poetry was not shared until the author felt ready.

  Lady Kitsura wore informal robes, though very beautifully dyed and embroidered, and matched in color by an artist’s eye. Her long black hair hung down her back in a carefully tended cascade.

  Nishima felt a flash of envy as she looked at her cousin. It is not surprising that even the Emperor desires her, Nishima thought. But there was something more there, a tightness around the eyes and the mouth. She worries, Nishima realized.

  The two women drew cushions up to the heat, glad of each other’s company.

  “I am concerned about our companion, Kitsu-sum. Do you think the Lady Okara resents making this journey?”

  Kitsura turned her lovely eyes to the fire and taking up the poker began to rearrange the coals efficiently. “She is troubled Nishi-sum. We have both seen this, though she tries to hide it. But I am not convinced that this is because she suddenly finds herself on the canal to Seh. It seems to me, though I am not sure why I think this, that it is something else that haunts the Lady Okara. My sense is that for Oka-sum, this is not a journey to Seh but a journey inward…. I believe she comes willingly though perhaps not happily.”

  “A secret journey,” Nishima almost whispered.

  A knock on the shoji was answered by Kitsura. “Cha,” she said to her cousin and a servant entered bearing a cha service on a simple bamboo tray. “Look how completely we play the country peers,” Kitsura laughed gesturing to the tray. “Am I overdressed for my part?”

  “You are always overdressed for your part, cousin,” Nishima said innocently.

  Kitsura laughed. “Oh. A tongue as sharp as her brush.”

  “Now, Kitsu-sum, you know that I jest.”

  “Oh, yes, I do, and it is only fitting; I have always been jealous of your abundance of talent.”

  “You who have no need to be jealous of anyone’s talent.” Both women laughed. They had known each other all their lives and viewed even their differences with affection.

  Kitsura ladled cha into a bowl and offered it to Nishima. “This first cup must be for you, cousin.”

  “Of course it must,” Nishima said taking the cup that etiquette dictated she must first refuse.

  Kitsura laughed her musical laughter. “So the mischievous Nishi-sum of my childhood seems to have returned.”

  “It is the pleasure of your company, cousin. How can I not be gay in your presence.”

  Tasting her cha, Kitsura smiled. “You know me too well, Nishi-sum. I am honored that you try to cheer me.”

  Nishima turned her cha bowl in her hands, suddenly serious. “You worry about your father, Kitsu-sum, but he has made his peace with Botahara. It is we who are in danger, we who are still trapped by the concerns of the flesh.”

  “What you say is wisdom, cousin.”

  “Easy wisdom, Kitsu-sum; it is not my father who is ill,” Nishima said quietly.

  The other woman nodded. “He often speaks of you—asks after you. I read him your poems and he praises them.”

  “The Lord Omawara is too kind, far too kind.”

  Kitsura nodded without thinking, her focus elsewhere. “Anyone else would have had his daughter marry the Emperor, though her life would have been a misery. Perhaps his…nearness to completion allows him to see this life differently.”

  “I believe that is true, Kitsu-sum. Perhaps we can discuss this with Brother Shuyun when we arrive in Seh.”

  “Ah, yes, Brother Shuyun.” Kitsura said, obviously ready to change the subject. “Tell me about him, cousin. Is the rumor true that he shattered an iroko table with only a gesture?”

  “Kitsura-sum!” Nishima said in mock disappointment. “You listen to rumors? It is not true. I was not present when this occurred, but I know he did not accomplish such a thing with a gesture. Tanaka told me he shattered the table by pressing on it with his hand, though he was sitting at the time.”

  “Ah. I did not really believe that he could have done such a thing without some direct force. Only Botahara could have done that. But still, that was quite an amazing act even so; wouldn’t you agree?”

 
“Oh, yes. Tanaka said that if he had not seen it with his own eyes he would never have believed it.”

  “I look forward to meeting our Brother. Is he so forceful in appearance?”

  Nishima shrugged. “He is not large, by any means, and he is very soft spoken, yet he does seem to possess some…power. I cannot describe it—a quiet power, like a tiger possesses. You will see.”

  “Like a black tiger?” Kitsura asked with a wicked smile.

  “You have been listening to rumors haven’t you?” Nishima said, though she was not as displeased as she sounded.

  “I’m not sure, cousin. Are these rumors that I hear?”

  Nishima sipped her cha, turning the cup in her hands the way Lord Shonto did when he was thinking. “I do not know what the rumors say, Kitsu-sum. The general in question has expressed his interest and I have not been as discouraging perhaps as one in my station should be.”

  Kitsura shrugged. “One cannot go on discouraging all those whom one meets simply because they are not suitable husbands. After all, one is not always looking for a husband,” she gestured to herself, “as you can see.” She smiled. “He is certainly the most handsome man in the Empire, or at least the most handsome I have seen. But can he be trusted, do you think?”

  Setting her cha down, it was Nishima’s turn to take up the poker and move the coals. “I don’t know, Kitsura-sum. There was the incident in our garden. He is certainly very brave. I don’t know.” She thrust the poker into the fire and looked up. “I want to trust him….”

  “I understand, but he does seem too much the opportunist to me. I don’t know how things stand, Nishi-sum, but I would be careful of how close I would allow such a man.” She smiled engagingly. “I would allow him no closer than my own rooms on dark evenings…but not often.”

  Lady Nishima laughed softly. “He is, no doubt, the pawn of our Emperor, and our Emperor will be none too pleased with the Ladies Kitsura and Nishima when he finds that they have slipped away in the night like the heroines of an old romance.” Nishima thrust the poker deep into the fire again. “How have our lives suddenly become so strange?”