The Emperor of Nihon-Ja

by John Flanagan

  Before she left the others to go to the women’s bath area, Alyss gave them careful instructions. The hot baths themselves were not for washing. They were for soaking and relaxing. Accordingly, they washed and rinsed off in an annex, scooping hot water from tubs and pouring it over themselves, and then plunged into the near-scalding water of the bath. At first, it was agony, but Will gradually became accustomed to the heat and felt it soothing the aches and pains of several weeks standing braced on a heaving, uncertain deck and sleeping on hard planks. Reluctantly, he finally emerged, dried himself and wrapped himself in a soft robe the ryokan provided.

  Alyss was waiting for them when he and Halt returned to their room.

  In the centre of the room, a low table, barely thirty centimetres from the floor, had been placed in position. It was laden with bowls and plates and small, candle-fired food warmers.

  Will looked around hopefully for a chair but, in keeping with the minimalist decor of the ryokan, there were none available. Alyss sat, resting on her heels, her legs folded under her at the table.

  Halt groaned softly. ‘I was afraid of this,’ he said. ‘I suppose we have to sleep on the floor too.’

  He’d noticed earlier that there were no beds in the room. When he’d enquired, the innkeeper had shown them thick mattresses stored behind one of the sliding screens that masked a closet.

  Will grinned at him as he helped himself to a skewer of grilled chicken, covered in a delicious, salty, dark sauce.

  ‘You’ve been sleeping on the ground for years when we camp,’ he said. ‘When did you become so fussy?’

  ‘When we camp,’ Halt replied, ‘we are out in the open. I accept that I have to sleep on the ground when I am in a forest or a meadow. But this is a room and this a floor. When I am indoors, I prefer to sleep in a bed.’ He removed the lid from a polished wood bowl and eyed the steaming broth inside. Looking round, he could see no sign of a spoon, so he drank directly from the bowl. ‘This is actually very good,’ he said.

  Alyss was helping herself to another dish – a broth of noodles heavily laced with shredded pork. She looked puzzled at the two wooden sticks that seemed to be the only implements, then held the bowl close to her mouth and shovelled some of the noodles and pork in with the sticks, slurping in a highly unladylike fashion.

  ‘You know, I rather hope Atsu doesn’t show up in too much of a hurry. I could take a few more days of this,’ she said.

  Halt shifted position for the third time in thirty seconds, easing the strain in his thighs by sitting sidelong on one buttock.

  ‘Tell that to my poor old aching knees,’ he said.

  In spite of Halt’s earlier grumbling, the beds – essentially no more than thick mattresses spread out on the floor – were quite comfortable.

  After they had doused the small lantern that lit their room, Will lay on his back, listening to Halt’s deep, regular breathing. As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he could discern a pale crack of light that showed at the edge of the sliding door leading to the gallery outside, although the innkeeper had dimmed the gallery lanterns some hours previously.

  The sliding, paper-paned window panel was open and a chill breeze entered the room. Will pulled the down-filled bedcover higher around his ears. The innkeeper had offered them a small charcoal brazier to warm the room but they had declined. Both Rangers preferred fresh air.

  Not for the first time, he found himself marvelling at the amazing turns his life had taken in recent years. He knew that some people he had grown up with had never strayed more than a kilometre or two from Castle Redmont and others had never gone outside the boundaries of Redmont Fief. Even his wardmate Jenny, who was now a famous chef, had barely gone further afield.

  Yet here he was, on the far side of the world, having travelled through an amazing channel in the desert, cut by unknown, ancient hands, on an ingenious ship designed to sail against the wind. Before this, he had crossed the heaving, tossing Stormwhite Sea and seen the barren crags of Skorghijl, then travelled on to the snow-covered mountains of Skandia, where he had faced the fierce riders from the Eastern Steppes.

  More recently, he had crossed the burning deserts of Arrida and made firm friends among the nomads of the Bedullin tribe. He had faced the wild Scotti tribesmen in the north. Then, with Halt and Horace, he had travelled the length of Clonmel, one of the six kingdoms of Hibernia.

  Sometimes, when he thought about how much he had seen and done in his young life, his head swam. And at those times, he thought about his childhood ambition of becoming a knight. How circumscribed his life would have been in contrast to this amazing existence! He knew that most of the knights who had trained in the Redmont Battleschool with Horace had never left Araluen’s frontiers.

  He wondered if Halt, who had seen all these things and more, ever felt the same sense of wonder and excitement about his life. Without thinking, he spoke.

  ‘Halt? Are you awake?’

  ‘No.’ The ill humour in the one-word reply was unmistakable.

  ‘Oh. Sorry.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  He pondered whether to apologise again, decided this would go against the instruction to shut up so remained silent. He glanced at the open window. The light of a half moon was beginning to creep through it. The same moon would be shining now on Horace, somewhere in the mountains, he guessed. Then he yawned hugely and, shortly after, in spite of his sense of wonder, he fell asleep.

  He’d barely been asleep a few minutes when Halt’s voice woke him.

  ‘Will? Are you asleep?’

  His eyes shot open, instantly alert. Then he realised there had been no sense of alarm or warning in Halt’s words and his tensed muscles relaxed.

  ‘I was,’ he said, a little indignantly. ‘I’m not now.’

  ‘Good,’ Halt replied, a trifle smugly. ‘Serves you right.’

  And the bearded Ranger rolled onto his other side, gathered the bedclothes under his chin and dozed off.

  A sound.

  Slight, barely audible. But outside the normal pattern of night sounds that Will’s subconscious had studied, filed away and learned to ignore. His eyes were open again and he listened carefully. The moon no longer shone through the open window. He must have been asleep for some hours, he thought.

  Halt’s breathing remained deep and even but Will knew that his teacher would be wide awake too. Rangers trained to maintain their breathing pattern even when awakened unexpectedly, so that a prospective attacker would have no warning that his quarry was awake and ready for him.

  Another sound. The light, creaking noise of wood moving, ever so slightly, against wood. It was the sound of a careful tread on the stairs, he realised. So the intruder, if it was an intruder and not one of the ryokan staff, was not in their room. Moving slowly and with infinite care to make no noise, he raised himself on one elbow and laid the bedcover back. Across the room, he saw the dim shadow of Halt doing the same thing. Halt raised a warning hand, signalling him not to make any further movement. Lying low to the floor like this, it would be difficult to rise without making any noise. The general construction of the ryokan’s interior was exceedingly light – with interjoining panels of wood and oiled paper and more panels of woven reed matting covering the wooden floors. Movable panels like that would almost certainly have free play in them and would make noise – just as the stairs were doing. They heard another two slight squeaks from the stairway as if in confirmation. Will glanced down to make sure his saxe knife and throwing knife were next to the mattress, in easy reach.

  Now that they knew there was no intruder in the room, there was no need to continue the pretence of deep breathing. They both breathed lightly, almost inaudibly, their ears tensed for any sound coming from outside.

  Will was grateful that their room was closer to the stairwell than Alyss’s. An attacker would have to pass their room to get to Alyss. A soft scuff of fabric against the wall, then another slight squeak, told them that whoever it was had reached the gallery an
d was moving slowly along it. They followed the slight sounds that marked his progress until the pale crack of light at the door panel was obscured and they knew he was outside their door. The sounds of movement ceased and Will felt a sense of relief. Whoever it was, Alyss was not the target.

  He strained his ears, his head cocked slightly sideways towards the door. There was a gentle scratching sound – fingernails on the oiled paper surface, he guessed. Hardly the act of someone whose intention was to take them by surprise.

  Halt mimicked the sound, rustling his fingernails on the reed floor mat. There was silence for a few seconds, with no movement perceptible outside the door. Then a low voice, barely audible, hardly more than a whisper, came to them.

  ‘I am Atsu.’

  They exchanged a quick glance. Halt nodded to the wall beside the door. Will rose, making as little noise as possible, and moved, barefooted, to stand beside the opening, his saxe knife in his hand. Halt remained seated on the mattress.

  ‘Come in, Atsu,’ Halt said softly.

  The door scraped open. A figure was framed in the opening. He looked left and right, saw Will beside the doorway and spread his hands to show he was unarmed. Will gestured for Atsu to go forward, into the room, and he complied, sliding the door shut behind him. He moved to where Halt sat sideways on the mattress, his legs crossed, and dropped to his knees, facing him. He bowed.

  ‘Greetings, friends,’ he said.

  Will moved from the doorway now and stood to one side, so he could observe the man as he spoke to Halt. He was slightly built, shorter than Will or Halt, but wiry. He was almost bald, with just a fringe of hair around the sides and back of his head. He appeared to be unarmed, but he could well have a knife concealed under the long cross-over robe that was standard attire for most Nihon-Jan.

  ‘Do you always move around so late at night?’ Halt asked him.

  Atsu nodded. ‘Since Lord Arisaka’s men have imposed themselves upon us, it is safer for me to avoid them.’

  ‘You helped another gaijin recently,’ Halt said. It was a statement, but it was also a question. If this was not Atsu, chances are he wouldn’t know the name of the gaijin he had brought down from the mountains. Atsu understood the challenge.

  ‘You are talking about George-san,’ he said. ‘Friend to Or’ss-san.’

  Halt frowned momentarily, not recognising the name.

  ‘Who?’ he said suspiciously. This time, Atsu enunciated the name carefully.

  ‘Or’ss-san,’ he said. ‘The tall gaijin warrior.’

  Will suddenly deciphered the name. He knew that the word ‘san’ was a Nihon-Jan term of respect, added as a suffix to a person’s name. If he ignored that, he was left with ‘Or’ss’ – and that was a little more recognisable.

  ‘Horace,’ he said quickly and Atsu turned his head towards him and bobbed it quickly in affirmation.

  ‘Yes. Or’ss-san,’ he said. ‘He saved the Emperor’s life.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Halt said thoughtfully. ‘I imagine that didn’t make him Arisaka’s favourite foreigner.’

  ‘No indeed. Arisaka was enraged when he heard. Or’ss-san killed two of his Senshi.’ Atsu allowed a note of satisfaction to creep into his voice as he added the last comment.

  ‘That sounds like Horace, all right,’ Will said.

  ‘And our friend here doesn’t sound too heartbroken at the thought of Arisaka’s men leaving us for a better place,’ Halt said wryly.

  ‘Which makes it more likely that he is, in fact, a friend,’ Will agreed.

  Halt paused a moment, thinking. Will would seem to be right, he thought. But a few more questions might be in order.

  ‘What else can you tell us about George?’ he said.

  Atsu considered the question, sifting his thoughts to ensure that his answers advanced his credibility in the eyes of these two gaijin.

  ‘He is no warrior. He is a talker.’

  Will smothered a small laugh. ‘That sounds like George.’

  Atsu looked at him again. ‘But he saved Or’ss-san’s life in the mountains,’ he added and Will raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  ‘George saved Horace’s life?’ he said, incredulous.

  ‘We were ambushed in the mountains. One of the ambushers shot an arrow at Or’ss-san. George-san saw it and pushed Or’ss-san to one side. The arrow struck George-san in the arm.’

  Halt and Will exchanged another glance.

  ‘Alyss did say George mentioned a wound in his message,’ Will said. ‘Although this bit about saving Horace is news to me.’

  ‘Speaking of Alyss,’ Halt said, ‘perhaps you should fetch her. She should hear what Atsu has to say.’

  His tone of voice said that he was now convinced that this really was Atsu and that he could probably be trusted. Will turned towards the door but, as he did so, there was a light tap on the door frame and the sliding panel opened, revealing Alyss in the Nihon-Jan robe she had been wearing earlier.

  ‘Do you two always bellow at the top of your voices in the middle of the night?’ she said. Then, catching sight of the third figure in the room, her voice lost its joking tone. ‘I take it this is Atsu?’

  It was a logical assumption, Will thought. No one else was likely to be in their room at this time of night.

  ‘Indeed it is. Atsu, this is the Lady Alyss.’

  The small Nihon-Jan swivelled round on his knees and bowed from his kneeling position to Alyss.

  ‘Hr’ady Ariss-san,’ he said. Alyss, diplomat though she was, raised an eyebrow at the unusual pronunciation of her name. Wait till she hears what he makes of Horace, Will thought, seeing the expression.

  ‘Delighted to meet you,’ Alyss said, her features under control again. She closed the door and crossed the room to sit on the end of Halt’s mattress, her legs tucked up to one side.

  ‘Can Atsu tell us what has become of Horace?’ she asked Halt.

  ‘I was about to ask him that,’ the Ranger replied. But Atsu needed no further urging.

  ‘Or’ss-san has offered to serve Lord Shigeru, the Emperor of Nihon-Jan, against the usurper, Arisaka. They have gathered some of Lord Shigeru’s men and are retreating into the mountains, heading for the ancient fortress of Ran-Koshi.’

  ‘So the Emperor has an army with him?’ Halt asked.

  Atsu shook his head. ‘No army. Just the survivors of his men from the garrison in Ito. Barely fifty men. There are also the Kikori, but they’re no army.’

  ‘The Kikori?’ Alyss asked. She wasn’t familiar with the word. Atsu turned to her.

  ‘Timber workers and wood cutters,’ he said. ‘They live in the mountains and they are loyal to the Emperor. Arisaka made the mistake of raiding and burning their villages in his search for the Emperor. As a result, he has alienated the Kikori and many of them have joined the Emperor.’

  ‘But they’re not soldiers?’ Will asked and Atsu shook his head.

  ‘Sadly, no. But they know the mountains like the back of their hands. If they are hiding the Emperor, Arisaka will never find him.’

  ‘What’s this fortress you mentioned?’

  ‘Ran-Koshi. It’s a legendary fortress, with high walls that are many metres thick. Even with a small force, the Emperor can hold it against Arisaka’s army for months.’

  The three Araluans exchanged glances. Will and Alyss left it for Halt to voice the question they all wanted answered.

  ‘So how do we get to Ran-Koshi? Can you guide us?’

  Their hearts sank as Atsu shook his head sadly.

  ‘It’s said to be somewhere in the north-western mountains. Only the Kikori would know its location for sure – it’s been so long since anybody’s seen it that many people say it’s a legend only.’

  ‘Is that what you believe?’ Alyss asked.

  ‘No. I’m sure it’s real. But even if I knew exactly where it is in the mountains, it would take weeks, even months, to get there. You’ll be crossing mountainous country, one high ridge after another. It’s incredibly slow g
oing and, of course, you’d be caught by winter before you were halfway there. And you’ll be moving through territory controlled by Arisaka’s men.’

  Halt rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Do you have a map?’ he asked. ‘Can you show us the approximate area?’

  Atsu nodded quickly. He reached into his robe and withdrew a roll of vellum. He spread it out and they could see it was a chart of the north island of Nihon-Ja.

  ‘Ran-Koshi is said to be in this area,’ he said, his finger circling a small area in the top left-hand corner of the island. It’s wild, difficult country. As you can see, it’s in the heart of the highest mountains and it backs onto this enormous lake. To get there, you’d have to traverse all of this…’

  His forefinger traced a route up through the centre of the island. The markings on the map indicated that the route would take them through mountain country – steep and heavily forested. He looked up, apologetically.

  ‘As I said, it would take weeks to make that trip. And I simply don’t have the time to guide you. There is a resistance movement growing against Arisaka and I’m one of the organisers. I sympathise with your desire to find Or’ss-san, but I have my own tasks.’

  Halt stared at the map thoughtfully for a few seconds. Then he pointed to a spot a little to the west of the area Atsu had indicated.

  ‘If we were here, could you put us in touch with people who might help us find the Emperor? These Kikori you mentioned.’

  Atsu nodded. ‘Of course. But as I say, it would take weeks to reach that spot – we might not even make it if the snows come. And I can’t spare that time. I’m sorry.’

  Halt nodded, understanding his predicament. He’d been considering the problem of travelling through this hostile countryside controlled by Arisaka’s forces ever since the encounter with the two Senshi. Now he thought he saw an answer.

  ‘Can you spare four or five days?’ he asked.