Chapter Forty-Eight Yaeko #2
“Dark worm-magic is a dangerous thing,” he said vaguely.
She wasn’t sure if he knew she was there at all.
“The demon-emperor used such magic once… when he began losing his mind. Trap several small insects or worms together in a jar. One by one, they devour each other. And whichever worm remains alone, the killer of the others, that’s the one you nurture.
You feed it, and feed it, and in turn, your spirit feeds the ghosts.
And the great power, the gods of death, emerge.
Because you have given them a sacrifice… ”
“My lord,” she began, uneasy.
“Oh?” He looked up. “Yaeko. I wanted to thank you. Seichi said you fought well at the river. They told me you were the first to cross the banks.”
“I tried to do my duty, lord.”
This brought him a smile. “Good. I want to let you know your loyalty will not go ignored. I know what you’ve gone through with your family, I know what it is like to see the rest of your house turn away from the True Path…”
He paused. For a moment, Yaeko could see the deep grief that lay in him. He had been Yora’s friend once, after all.
And now?
“I’ve given the order to burn the Onji temples,” Seikiyo said. “And those south, in Naruji, who’d given them support.”
She stood at attention. “Yes, lord.”
“Tell me something,” he said, reading her. “You see this as a dark omen.”
“I cannot speak for you, lord.”
“I am asking you to speak for yourself.”
She paused. “I would not do it. If it were up to me. But it is not.”
“They warned me not to.” Seikiyo’s voice grew thick, and strange.
“They said it would bring only evil. But there’s already evil, Yae…
A sign of flames. There were reports… a demon in white, walking past where Nioh’s body was found…
Some of the soldiers claim this demon was the one who killed him. Is this true?”
Yaeko hesitated. “I wasn’t there, ame’in.”
“The curse,” he said. “It’s spreading. How many generations has it claimed? Has it spilled out onto us, onto our…”
He rose suddenly, sweeping past her and moving to the garden terrace. “The evil spirits, the demons, have come into the world. They are here,” he said. “They are here. Do you see them?”
Seikiyo clutched at the edge of his garden patio, shaking, with one gnarled hand reaching out; his fingers curled into a clawlike grasp, over nothing. “They are here,” he said again.
He stepped back, eyes wide and fearful. A man possessed, he tensed, voice wavering as he said it again.
They’re here. He’d grown haggard in the last months, his face drawn and tired, deep lines cutting down from his eyes.
She felt the blade she still wore at her side, the dagger that had once been her father’s.
It would be so easy to do it now. Seikiyo was lost in his pain.
It would be so easy to finish this once and for all.
Kill him, her mother the nun had said. Her dying breath.
Avenge your family. She could pull the dagger silently from its sheath, slip it into the thin bones of his neck, and be done.
Her family, and her teacher Yora – all of them – would have justice.
I could end this.
She didn’t move. Seikiyo, unaware, gazed out at the little skeleton of a tree that canted by his wall.
He seemed so tired, so old. He’s haunted by the ghosts of those he’s killed.
By his religion, by his feelings of remorse.
He always wanted the more peaceful path, and as he so often said, everything he did was to protect his family.
And yet.
Kill him, her mother whispered, a ghost in her ear. Do it now.
Yaeko gripped the knife. She stepped forward. She stopped.
“Do you see?” he asked.
“See what, lord?”
“The skulls, Yae,” he whispered. “The skulls.”
He pointed with a shaking hand, fingers still curved from the bony fist. Snow covered everything, casting deep shadows over the ornamental stones and the hollows of the tree. He’s seeing faces out there, in the dark. He’s seeing ghosts.
He is ill in his heart, Shigeo had told her once. He is suffering.
He whispered, “The Poet is dead.”
She said, “I know.”
“I have no one.”
She said, “You have your sons, lord. You have the imperial army. You have me.”
“You?” The word, so soft on his lips. “Your family wanted you to kill me.” It was not an accusation. Just a simple statement of fact.
“You knew?”
“Of course I knew… I always knew.”
“Then why trust me?”
He buried his thin frame in blankets; nothing seemed to shield him from the cold. “I trusted you to make a choice. I trusted that my instincts would be right. And I hoped you would be loyal.”
“I am,” she said. “I am loyal.”
“Then I will need your help.”
Outside, slow-melting ice shone in the pale moonlight, tufts of snow. The clouds were clearing already; the air felt heavy, pressed.
“‘Three will die’,” he whispered at last. “The demon-emperor. Sutoh. He cursed us, the three great families, after we sent him from this land. The Ten’in…
the Gensei… the Keishi. The three families who were allied, and now are torn apart.
‘Three will die.’ He promised to use our children to recompense for the death of his daughter.
He wrote our names in his own blood, spilled from his tongue when he cut it out and smeared it on the walls. And now…
“Now, I fear we all suffer for it. I am not the man I once was. My bones are brittle with age. My heart is weak. I am dying, Yaeko. No, it’s true, I am.
It’s all right. I’ve known for some time; I only wish I could delay it but another year.
My sons won’t have an easy time running things when I’m gone, they’ll fight each other…
there will be no unity in our clan.” He gripped her by the arms, a desperate motion he didn’t try to hide. “You must help us, Yaeko.”
“What would you have me do?” she asked.
“Fight. Help Akiyo lead my sons. Keep the clan together. We’ll make you one of us. An adopted daughter. I’ll add you to our lineage; the mark against you will be gone. But you must tell me… Will you fight for us, Yae? Will you fight for what our family represents?”
Our family, she thought. Our family.
“I will, ame’in,” she said, emotion breaking through her voice. “You have my word. I will.”
“Thank the gods,” he said. He clung to her hand, as though she could save him from his demons, even now. “We will need you.”
When she left, she saw the book that lay open on his lap. Saw the words he read. It was a poem, old verse from the ancient Book of Leaves:
Oh little girl,
little girl with your basket
with your shovel
you gather shoots on the hillside
from where have you come?
I want to ask your name
little girl
this land is all my land
this land under the gods
in the realm of heaven
they are watching
come with me, child; come
and I will tell you my name