Chapter Fourteen Yora #2
Goshira laughed: “And they say I want power… but compared to you, I’m just an old man.
We defeated the gods a thousand years ago, but we could never have realized we would be…
castrated by our own bodyguards.” He spat the words.
“You disagree? Just look what happened to your family when your brother stood against the Keishi. Look at Seikiyo. Look at what that man has done.”
“I will need to think on it,” Yora said.
Kaji Getoh handed him his sword when they left. “Any orders?”
“I need to send a message to my cousin Kiie,” Yora said. “I want you to go tell him to find my nephew Tokuon, in the north. Tell him what has happened. Tell him of this rebellion in the home-provinces. We need to see which way the north wind blows.”
“Tokuon will want a fight,” Getoh said, carefully.
“Just find Kiie, tell him to go, and be ready. I’ll meet him at the family shrine, outside Kiseda. After the New Year. Tell him. And hurry.”
Getoh sped off into the night.
For some time Yora walked along the path outside his residence, to the small bridge where the Onji River split away from the capital, south, then east and north toward the bay.
There he watched the stars shimmer on the slowly moving water.
A day’s ride would bring him to the great bridges, the estuary where the river opened up into grassy marshland, and eventually, to the great Awa Sea.
He stood on a little bridge above the stream, peering over the cold moonlight on the water, facing his dilemma.
He had to make a choice. Tell his lord Seikiyo what he had heard, or keep it secret, try to find the truth before he brought news that would cause chaos.
He was damp and his nose was running by the time Kai found him there.
“Uncle. Getoh told me you were here.”
“Of course he did.” He nodded to a bench. “You better sit.”
The worry that consumed his every waking thought was that Kai would be forced to take over their clan before she was ready.
She had a keen mind, he knew, and was wise to the ways of strategy and politics.
He had been partially responsible for that.
But she was also young, too young. She would be in over her head, forced to take actions in a world that couldn’t wait for her to make mistakes.
And Kai was afraid – paralyzingly afraid – of making mistakes.
It was her greatest weakness at the game-of-kings, and other tests of strategy; at the moment of choice, she would hesitate, unable to take the decisive move.
That was how he still beat her at the games.
“How do I know I won’t do something wrong?” she’d asked.
He had no easy answer. “You’ll never know.
Sometimes, not even after. The hardest part is to make the choice, and accept the consequence – good or bad.
To become paralyzed is the result of overthinking.
It leads to too much thought. It leads to inaction.
Which is worse than the wrong action, is it not?
That’s why the monks say to have no-thought.
That’s why the warriors say, ‘Charge up any hill, and it will be the right one.’ Because if you’re wrong, you can make the change and go to the next.
But if you spend your time deliberating, trying to choose between the two hills on either side, the enemy will outflank you.
The answer is to charge the hill. And keep moving. ”
“I feel like everything rests on me,” she’d said. “It’s not so easy.”
“No,” he’d said. “It’s not. That’s why we just keep moving.”
Yet now, on this bridge, in a city going bankrupt all around him, Yora cursed himself. What was he doing now, but deliberating? What was he doing in the face of this dilemma but failing to act?
“If I was a student, they’d tell it to my face,” he muttered. And yet, the choices lay before him, like the two sides of a bridge. On the one side, inaction, loyalty, and peace. Keishi control. This was what he chose when Kai’s father rebelled. This was the only reason she was still alive.
And yet. And yet.
On the other side was anger. Righteousness. Action.
It would lead to war.
“The Keishi have to pay for what they’ve done to us,” Kai said slowly. “You know this.”
Yora was taken aback. “There are still ways that we can work together.”
“No,” Kai said, scowling. “There aren’t.”
Something cracked in him then. “I’ve seen my brothers die. You have to understand what you’d be getting into – if we start a war, how many will be killed? Thousands. And for what?”
“Justice,” she said. “Can’t you see?”
Everything he’d done was to hold on to a desperate idea of peace. And it had consumed him, at the cost of everything; the great tragedy was that his desperation for peace was the thing that now led to war.
“We cannot succeed.”
“Then you are a coward.”
“‘Look for a big tree when you want shelter,’” he said. “You have to know the truth of who we serve.”
“Our family’s killers?”
“Peace is more important than a grudge.”
“You’re a fossil,” Kai said.
“Seikiyo spared you. You owe your life to him.”
“What life?” She shifted her weight. “Life in his cage?”
Yora shook his head. Supporting Seikiyo would only enable him to take dictatorial power. Standing against him would lead to countless deaths.
“There is no good answer,” he said.
“What about me?” She was facing him now, concern, and doubt, on her features. “Are you not sworn to protect me?”
“I am also sworn to protect the realm…”
“So what’s more important?” she asked. “Duty, or your flesh and blood?”
“You intend to stand against them?”
“I have to stand against them. He controls everything. That’s what this is all about – that’s what my father died for.”
“And who would you have instead? If we remove the Keishi from power, who would take their place? You?”
Kai breathed. “I am the heir to our family…”
“I’m asking you: to defeat a tyrant, what are you willing to do?
You say you want to stop a dictator, fine – but you’ll have to put something in their place.
And how many will pay the cost? How many lands and temples and homes will be burned?
I’ve lived through that, and I know, better than you do, what the reality of it will bring. ”
She was silent for so long he thought she was going to leave.
Then she spoke, tears in her eyes. “I thought… I always thought that when I got older, things would become clear. I’m supposed to know what to do…
but I don’t. I never know what I’m supposed to do.
I can’t keep carrying this weight. And I…
I don’t know. How can I be expected to inherit our entire clan, how can I lead them?
I can’t even make my voice be heard at court. ”
“The court is a show these days,” said Yora. “Surely you’ve noticed that.”
“I’m no good with a sword or a bow… I can’t ride a horse at a gallop. I don’t even like horses…”
“Being a good ruler is not just about cutting off heads,” Yora said.
“Though some may have you think otherwise. It’s about understanding people.
You might not be as strong as Sora’in, but you are as smart, and you may well become as wise.
You know the economics of the capital. You know how to balance a ledger.
You know the customs of the court better than anybody because you grew up among it, yet apart; you can see the lies they hide behind their painted veils.
These are things that will help you, Kai, not how fast you swing a sword. ”
He wanted her to take comfort in what he said, but she looked as unsure as ever.
“You’ll always have warriors to fight for you,” he said.
“So have them swing the swords, loose the arrows. It’ll be up to you to make sure the taxes come in, make sure your people are happy and not suffering from plague or famine.
These are the things you know how to do. ”
She asked him: “Will you support me?”
The reflection of the moon danced before them on the river.
The murmur of the stream mixed with nightbirds in the air.
He watched the flowing water, dappled in the night, and heard the sound of the current over stones, each the size of a hand.
They’d walked to the other end of the bridge, and now he bent to pick one up, smooth, cold as ice, shining in the light of the evening. He sighed.
“Everyone knows you’ve been a loyal servant of this family,” Kai said. “Please.”
“I have always been a loyal servant of this family,” Yora said sadly, and tossed the stone into the stream.