Chapter Fifteen Kai
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kai
The noblewoman introduced herself as Chikae Ikariya, of the second rank, from the regent house, and councilor for retired-emperor Goshira.
Pale, with a round face and high arching expression, Ikariya was a political creature, taller than Kai, and her long black hair almost reached the floor.
She led Kai down the corridor, asking questions about Kai’s life.
“You’re not a child anymore,” she said. “Naturally, you must search to add to your line.” She demurred against any hint of turmoil, saying: “Your family has great history, we shouldn’t forget that,” and “Many in the world are glad you have returned,” and finally, “How can I help you?”
Somehow, though, the councilor’s offers of help sounded much like the opposite.
Ikariya offered warnings, advice, and gossip in her silken voice, and even hinted interest in trading for property – all of which would tie Kai into a complex political game of favors and debts, which she desperately wanted to avoid.
This woman is a politician, she told herself.
Of the Hara clan. A courtier. They scheme as quick as they breathe. Don’t trust her.
As they walked, she thought of her uncle’s warnings once again.
Kai pictured Yora as he was, once, lord-governor of Amayari, their family’s home; when he was young and brought down a devil nightbird in a storm.
They wove designs of its feathers into his clothes.
But that was years ago. Before it all happened. Before her father rebelled.
She imagined him teaching at the Hermitage and known throughout the provinces as the best bowman in the emperor’s domain. Yora was sky-seen, then. The quick, unlined face, a hawk’s eyes, hands muscled and ready.
What happened to him? Age, she supposed, a brother’s death, a civil war or the threat of one; he had drawn inward.
He’d gone from the defender of the realm to a man who said, Look for somewhere to hide.
She could have screamed at him, What are you doing, how did you become so afraid?
But he told her, in simple terms, that he was not afraid; he was trying to keep peace.
They were different things; only on the outside did they look the same.
Arms clasped before him, Yora could have been a monk, never hurt a soul on the earth; yet change your glance and you’d see the calluses on his hands. We will have to fight, uncle, she thought, before the end.
“How is Amayari,” he’d asked, and she said:
“It doesn’t change. Even when it changes, it doesn’t change at heart. It welcomes you back. Amayari is home.”
“It always will be,” he said.
“Come back with me there.”
“And be a servant of the Zusho?”
“It is through Lord Zusho that I ever had a chance to meet you,” she insisted. “The Zusho remember their neighbors. They will help us.”
Yora scratched his head, said nothing for some time. “Someone must stay and keep an eye on this royal city.” There was another world in the words he didn’t say, as there always was, and as always, she found herself incensed at his tight lip.
Now, as the regent councilor led her through the hall, she thought, It’s all a misunderstanding. A compromise. It’s spinning out of control. That’s what Yora was trying to tell me. Such things happen. People act in ways they think best; and things spiral out of true.
Yora was not a fearful man nor a foolish one; he must know something would happen soon. Every night, he’d said, he prayed to their ancestor, the daughter of the god of war. He must know something he isn’t telling me.
Don’t trust her. Ah, she remembered now. It was Yora who had warned her that. Chikae Ikariya, the politician. She’ll step on your throat to get where she needs to go.
Chikae led her to the center gardens, where a group of noble-children were at play, and told her to wait. She sat on a bench, watching the players compete for the number of times they could kick a ball made of deer-skin to a certain height.
A figure withdrew from the alcove at the other end of the courtyard, followed by a monk in robes of brown and gold. They paused at the edge of trees, watching the children run with laughter, and the little ball danced high in the sun-drenched morning air.
The retired-emperor, Goshira Chiten, had come to watch the game. She saw him with his cloak, his shaved pate, his dark, ringed eyes. Beside him, strolling the courtyard, was the stooping, reed-like monk, Kyohara Moro. Suddenly, they were behind her.
“Chiten,” she said, bowing quickly. “You startled me. I didn’t know anyone was watching…”
“This is the royal city,” Goshira said. “Someone’s always watching.”
She glanced at the monk; Moro was a gentle-looking man of above-average height with sloping shoulders and sleepy eyes.
He’s the most dangerous one of all, her uncle had told her.
The Monk of the Gate. He clasps his hands and prays to the god of compassion, and his emissaries buy more and more land to the west, where rice paddies grow deep in hidden valleys. Be wary of him.
The monk smiled at her with a curling, indecipherable smile, bowed, and said, “I leave you to your privacy,” before turning back and watching the boys who were playing on the field.
“Thank you for responding to my invitation,” Goshira said. “Let us walk.”
They were followed by three of Goshira’s shrouded guards.
Known for their fierce devotion and their strengths in the martial arts, the Tessoku had a harsh, but intriguing quality – like monks, they followed silently, alert as mountain cats, soft as shadows.
Kai had heard they never removed their veils, for normal mortals were not fit to look upon the emperor in his home.
They had the calm, measured movements and easy grace of very dangerous men, and, unlike the current emperor’s servants, the Tessoku were always men.
No one knew who they were, where they came from, or what they were capable of; she’d heard them referred to as “Moro’s students”, as “Soldiers of the Inviolable Law”, implying their mastery of some powers or divination developed by the monks.
“I didn’t know where to expect you, Chiten,” she said. “Forgive me.”
“Think nothing of it,” he replied, waving his hand. “I understand you are to leave us again. Heading back to Zusho?”
“There’s nothing for me here,” she admitted. “The stain against us in the capital is too strong. And I’m not… I’m not like Yora. I can’t stand it here.”
“Oh, I understand,” Goshira said. “Perhaps better than you know. They say you are a tiger. I say, that famous sword of his, it should belong to you. Only here, you’re a tiger in a cage…”
“The courtiers do nothing but spit on us,” she said. “On my clan, I mean. Always sneering, muttering under their breath. ‘Look at that one,’ they say, ‘another bumpkin who’s only good for playing with bows. Fighting with her hands.’”
“Violence goes against their way of life,” Goshira replied.
“The courtiers. They believe rule should come from knowledge and wisdom, as in the old kingdoms of the west; often they forget that those are two very different things. And because the emperor cannot make money off of land as they do, they sit back and become the bureaucrats they’ve always wanted to be, buying up shares of vast estates around the country, accumulating wealth in parts and little slips of paper that grant their rights. ”
“Why can’t the emperor own land?”
“Oh, he does. All land belongs to him, of course. So how could anybody sell it to him?” He walked on.
“Yes. A clever system. Grant the governors and far-stewards managership roles in the estates you own, through joint shares, and you can reap the benefits. Collecting the crops they grow and the money they bring in. And you never have to set foot outside your happy palace gates. It’s all so very dirty, isn’t it, out there in the wild.
Or so they think, anyway. Yes, I understand much better than you know. ”
“They look down on me.”
“And you wish they didn’t? They are vipers, these nobles.
They play at music and poetry and learn the great classics of the West, but beneath their veneer of civility, they would betray one another in an instant if it meant better gains for themselves.
They watch us, constantly. And you as well.
Do they trust us? Never. Do they need us?
Always. But the great riddle of it is, we need them too. So we’re forced to trust each other.”
“The system always runs on trust,” she said. “Reputation.”
“That it does. And you are wiser than most, to have seen it. But hear this, Lady Kai: the moment that trust breaks, there will be chaos.” The retired-emperor paused. “He will keep you around as a trophy, you know. That’s what he did last time.”
“Who?”
“Seikiyo.”
They had almost completed their circuit of the courtyard.
“He will stop at nothing,” Goshira said, his voice half a whisper.
“But eventually, you will be married to one of his sons, or a relation in his family, and because you have no family of your own, you will be moved into his.
He is an octopus, drawing in and drawing in, pulling all other parts of government until they are in his grasp, and the path is clear for him to eat.
“Kai,” he said. “I do think often of that lovely poem you gave me. ‘In the evening light, cicadas fall silent…’ Allow me to gift it again. I wish to send it to certain of my friends who understand you… In truth, they may be friends for you as well.”
“Of course,” she said.
I can’t turn back now. This may be our only chance.
The start of a plan had begun to form in the back of her mind. She would write to Lord Zusho, her stewardfather in Satsuki, at the far edge of the barrier plains. He would support her.
But Yora was right: we must be patient. We must take our time, make sure nothing can grow wrong. I have to make sure I know what I’m doing.
And then I will strike.
“By the way.” Goshira turned back, as if remembering something of small importance. “I received some information the other day. It may be of value to you. Concerning your brother.”
She forced herself to look into his pale, wide eyes. “My brother died. In the rebellion.”
Goshira nodded. “That is what they told you. And until just recently, yes, I believed it, too. No. Your brother is alive, Kai Gekko’in. He lives in secret, with a different name, under the protection of the Kitano lord, in Aizumi to the east.”
Kai squinted. “That can’t be right.”
“Ah, but it is, my dear. And it is something they do not want known. For there are many in the Kanden that would rally to your cause, if the Gensei were to be united once again.”
“If this is true, how could they have kept it secret all these years?”
“Few know, even in the east,” Goshira said. “They think he’s an adopted son, child of a relative who died. But I promise you, it is true. My people go far and wide, and just recently, they have brought me confirmation. His name is Sen.”
Kai felt a rush of something now, bright and tingling, mixed with confusion. Her heart raced. “Someone would have told me…”
“They should have.”
“How do you know this?”
“I have made it, shall we say, a bit of an interest of mine to know what’s going on in all corners of our civilization.
The truth will always come out, and now, after so many years, this truth has.
Your cousin, Tokuon of Yamakaji, is gathering his arms. He intends to find Sen.
And bring him back into the world, from the land of Iyo Ogami’in where he was raised in secret these many years. ”
“But the Keishi,” she said. “They would—”
The Chiten’s eyes narrowed. “They are watching. Yes. Tokuon is merely waiting for his chance, from that rook’s nest in the mountains.
You should be careful, Lady Kai. If this were to come out, if Seikiyo were to discover what your cousin has begun…
there’s no telling what he’ll do. It must be quiet. ”
“Then why tell me?”
“I couldn’t bear to add another lie to the tragedy of your family,” Goshira said.
“As I said, there are many who would help you. Your brother is alive, and he is well. You deserve to know this. But you must keep it secret; you, Kai, you were spared, out of the compassion of the Keishi, once, but now the world is on the brink of change. The monks tell us we enter an age of desolation. The realm is at the edge of a knife. Tread lightly, Kai Gekko’in.
The world may shift in this upheaval, and there is no telling what will happen when it all comes crashing down. ”
“Thank you.” Kai searched for the words. The ground felt unstable, shifting beneath her feet. “Thank you.”
“Tread lightly,” he said again. “Tread lightly. This is your secret now. Your friends are out there, and they are talking. But I fear greatly, Lady Kai, what the Keishi will do if they were to learn the truth.”