L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane (6 page)

"Oh, no, I will not be joining the armies on the Wall, but rather, the legions in the Yasuki provinces, just south of Kakita lands. There is little need for jade with no Shadow-lands to fight, and your gift is too expensive and beautiful for my rough hands. I beg you, give it to some bushi more in need of jade than I."

Well spoken, for a Crab, Yoshi thought, but now you have told me where your legion will be camped after you have left the festival. Well spoken, but poorly played. "Humble Hida-san, your troops will not always be at the edge of the lands of the Crane." Heads turned slightly as Yoshi's voice rose. The pitch and timbre were gentlemanly, but to those who knew the language of the court, his intention was clear. "And when they move south—" a delicate emphasis on his last word— "you will again have need of this. As will your Lord Yakamo, so that he might live to see the day he will become your champion." The hidden threat passed the Crab's dull ears, and Tsuru smiled in pride at the mention of the son of Kisada. "If you cannot take it for yourself, give it to him, that he knows he has an ally in the lands beneath the emperor's own heart."

Yakamo had an ally—Yakamo, not Kisada, whose troops hungered for Kakita lands. Kisada saw an opportunity in the Lion aggression to the north. Yakamo made no such threats toward the Crane. The implication was deliberate.

As the Crab bowed and accepted the gift, guests clapped politely. The fluttering applause in the chamber sounded like the flight of birds, birds bearing messages to the other clans: a warning that the Crane would not tolerate troops marching upon its borders, a reminder that the Crane were the closest in blood to the Hantei, and an assurance that the Crane enjoyed the adoration of the emperor.

As Tsuru accepted the small statuette, Yoshi bowed slightly less than before and turned toward the far end of the room.

Enough games with children. The Crab had been no more than a ruse—an important one, but a ruse nevertheless. It was time to deal with the Lion and their "ambassador," Jushin.

Shizue and her handmaidens fell into place behind Yoshi as he crossed the elaborate chamber. Brilliantly colored kimonos flashed as maidens bowed, hoping to catch the attention of the most eligible bachelor in Rokugan. Yoshi ignored them. The attractions of love paled beside the whispers of the court. Love, in Yoshi's estimation, was no more than a tool to catch the unwary. Unlike others, he would never be its pawn.

Hoturi had ordered Yoshi and Toshimoko to greet the Ikoma samurai at this meal. The honor would help alleviate any anger left from the abject beating the Ikoma had received on the tournament field. How amusing.

Bowing to Jushin as he neared the Lion's table, Yoshi turned to Shizue. "My lady Doji," he gestured toward the table, "would you be so kind as to entertain the Ikoma with a tale? They seem ill at ease, and I would not have such sorrowful faces in my house."

"Of course, Daimyo." She was beautiful, despite her odd foot, and her smile brightened the court. He knew the tale she would tell, and as she captured the Ikoma's attention, Yoshi stepped lightly away.

"Once, there was a great warrior named Akodo, daimyo of the Lion Clan and master of the sword...."

"Is that wise, Yoshi?" Toshimoko asked peevishly as his younger brother approached the table. The two men were more than fifteen years' apart in age, their faces and bodies as different as their lives. Beneath their exteriors, though, twin fires of competition burned. The Kakita blood was strong in their veins, and it showed in Toshimoko's dedication to the school of swordsmanship as well as in Yoshi's ardent political conquests. The house of Kakita was strong.

"Of course it is wise, Brother," Yoshi said with a smile. "She reminds them of a former time of glory. Let them remember the Akodo as heroes and not as dishonored ghosts." Yoshi continued, "And it is at least as wise as breaking the man's bokken in tournament."

"Not my fault. He has a poor stance."

"Brother, you exaggerate. I'm certain the Lion's stance was as perfect as his school." The idle flattery turned to an insult on Yoshi's lips, despite his winning smile.

His brother laughed, pounding softly on the table. Passersby wondered what jest the Kakita Daimyo had made.

"Where are the Asahina?" Toshimoko asked. "If I have to suffer through this courtly babble, that old pacifist Tamako had better have to sit through it as well."

"Tamako sent his regrets, my brother. The Asahina are busy studying for the peace of their souls and fighting the demons that threaten their enlightenment. They pray for our prosperity, but they do not join us at court." Yoshi turned, bowing lower as Hoturi nodded his head. "Lord Champion."

"Yoshi-san. loin us."

"Of course, my lord." Yoshi sat nimbly, reclining on his knees.

"The Asahina." Toshimoko snorted. "They never come out of that dratted temple. All day, their daimyo, Tamako, prays and studies; studies and prays. Useless."

"They are the finest healers in the empire, old man." Hoturi's voice was gently chiding. "Their skills are unmatched."

"As is their foolishness. I hear they have refused to fight, even if the Crab and Lion attack," Toshimoko said.

"That is their way. They are servants of life and peace. They will not endure war." Yoshi whispered, raising his fan as courtiers approached the Crane Champion's table. Such talk was not for the masses.

Courtiers stepped up to the table, bowing and introducing themselves in an endless stream of pleasant words. Artisans danced, and musicians played soft tunes, but Hoturi's somber face did not change.

"It's Tsuko," Toshimoko said, as if reading Hoturi's thoughts. "She will stop at nothing to capture Osari."

"No talk of battle here, Brother."

"Why not? There is talk of battle all around us. The Lion sit with the Crab, and as far as the Unicorn are concerned, figoku can take all three."

"That makes it even more important that we appear unconcerned," Hoturi murmured as he saw the guests on the wide wooden floors begin to part with an appreciative murmur. "If our strength is questioned, it will be tested."

"Bah," Toshimoko snorted, rubbing a bruise the Ikoma had given him. "Satsume would never have cared...." The rest of his sentence died as Hoturi's lips turned white. "The Crane have never been weak. We have the emperor's blood, and the Hantei's ear."

Lloturi had already stopped listening.

Faint applause rippled among the assembled nobles, and two maidens approached through a space that widened as they moved. One of them held a thick biwa, twelve-stringed and made of wood that had browned with extreme age. The other held her painted face high as she walked, every inch regal and exquisite in a kimono as blue as the sky. Her green eyes smiled into Hoturi's. Both maidens bowed precisely ten steps from his low table.

"My wife," Hoturi began, speaking loudly enough for the entire court to hear. "You do us honor with your presence."

"My husband," she replied softly, knowing even the farthest guest in the room would hang on her every word, "I would do you honor with a dance, if you would care to lose the time watching."

"Nothing is lost when you are here, Ameiko-gozen." The noble title was appropriate in such a large and formal group, though perhaps too esteemed for a woman with no noble blood. Still, as wife of the Crane Champion, Ameiko was entitled to certain indulgences.

At Hoturi's side, Yoshi smiled behind his fan, knowing the title had been noted. Many in the empire fancied rumors about Hoturi and his young wife. Let them whisper all they want about the lack of an heir, Yoshi thought. They cannot blame Hoturi for his father's weaknesses.

Placing the biwa on the floor, the second maiden pulled her kimono tight about her knees and knelt. With a masterful hand, she tuned the golden strings of the instrument.

The court gathered to watch. Firelight glistened from lanterns above them, which cast pools of bright color across the mahogany floor.

Motionless, Ameiko gazed adoringly at Hoturi.

The music began in the same instant that Ameiko reached for her fan. In a graceful, lingering motion, she removed it from her sleeve. The first, resonant notes matched her fan's slow unfolding.

Blue and silver, her kimono moved with each gentle step.

Her arms reached out and then drew back in a dance of love and joy. The biwa's rich tones seemed to flow from every inch of the hall, and Ameiko's face radiated emotions that were rarely seen in court. Each movement was precise, yet filled with passion. Her white hands flashed behind her fan, first hidden and then revealed in an intricate dance of shadow and illusion. Ameiko's slippered feet masked sound beneath the subtle shifting of silk. Her body was as drawn as a bow and as fleet as a deer.

She is a captured spirit, Hoturi thought as he watched his wife dance before the court, something wild and untamed (hat should not be held against its will.

She looked up at him behind a teasing fan, and her eyes sparkled with love. It was not a dance of courts and courtiers but a simple peasant's story of the fall of a bird, giving its life to defend those it loved. The music told the story of a hunter in the forest, chasing a wild boar. His hawk—the dancer— flew in the sky above and watched as the hunter's spear broke, as the boar began to stalk the man.

Bending the fan down, the dancer lifted her arm to mimic the flight of the hawk into the winter sky. The image was so real that several of the guests sighed in appreciation. Their eyes rose from Ameiko's motion to the heights of the ceiling, as if to see the bird vanish into the clouds.

With another movement, the creature fell to the ground, stung by the hunter's call. Ameiko dropped to her knees. Unable to resist her love for her master, the hawk returned and began to drive away the maddened boar, using her wings and beak to stab at the creature's eyes. Her fan dropped lightly to the ground, landing open and perfect at her feet as she reached once more for the heavens, but again, the hunter's call.

Each note echoed with fervor. The illusion was complete. Enraptured, the whispers of the guests fell to nothing. The music carried beyond the simple plucking of the biwa strings.

At last, Ameiko stepped forward on one arched knee, reaching a hand as if for assistance, but the music died away. The hall was silent.

The hunter was safe, the boar was dead, and the hawk, fallen from the sky, would never rise again.

The dance was finished, but for several seconds, no sound rose from the chambers. Then, with a loud boom, the Crab pounded their hands on their table, cheering at the beauty of the simple country dance. Shortly after came the awed shouts of the Unicorn, and the polite applause of the Phoenix. Even the stoic Lion, refusing at first to watch, had been drawn into Ameiko's recital. Their applause was quiet but sincere.

"My lord," Yoshi whispered into his champion's ear as Ameiko and her handmaiden bowed to the applause. "It is time to meet with the Lion."

Hoturi looked across the hall, jushin and his men were standing and glancing toward his table

The champion of the Crane nodded. Smiling at his bride, he stood and walked around the long table to her side. Without a word, he bowed before her, nodded to her companion, and gazed proudly into Ameiko's eyes. "Thank you, my wife. You were ... perfect."

"Husband, you do me honor."

Though it did not seem much, it was enough. His compliment made her cheeks glow beneath pale makeup. Her green eyes narrowed in pleasure. To be called perfect was a Kakita artisan's fondest dream, and to be called so in public by the champion of a clan—even if that man happened also to be one's husband—was a singular honor. There would be talk through the land by midwinter, and Ameiko would again be lauded with gifts and invitations to travel to other courts.

Still, she would not go. She had never traveled from the Crane lands since their marriage. Though before their marriage she had been one of the most revered dancers in the empire, now she was content to be only his wife.

Hoturi looked at her beautiful face for a moment more, remembering each curve and line of her cheek and then turned to follow Yoshi.

It was enough.

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Hoturi stepped onto the wide balcony of Kyuden Kakita and looked down at the magnificent gardens beneath him. Three stories below, the grass shone with torchlight, and the rocks of the garden path gleamed like smooth water. The faint scent of blossoms drifted on the wind, mixed with the bitter aroma of pine and smoke from fires within the keep.

Already, the Lion had assembled on the stone balcony. As one, they bowed when Hoturi walked through their entourage toward the high seat that had been placed for him. Kakita Yoshi stood behind the ornate stool. He smiled pleasantly as his champion nodded to the Lion kneeling below him.

Beside Jushin, four samurai retainers knelt in support of his petition. Although their names were unknown to Hoturi, they each bore the Ikoma mon and seemed equally reserved. These were unusual Lion, whose very natures precluded emotional outbursts.

Hoturi took his time settling on the stool. He removed his swords and handed them to Kakita Toshimoko, who placed them upon a nearby dai-sho holder of soft cherry wood. The Lion would wait while their host took his time enjoying the autumn evening and the beauty of their surroundings. The pause was carefully planned, of course, and Hoturi waited for Yoshi's cue to begin. The courtier would instinctively understand when the Lion had exhausted their patience.