Spirit's Chosen (36 page)

It was good enough for many other Ookami as well. Daimu warned me that I was going to drain my strength, trying to take care of every sick or injured person who sent for me. “Try telling some of them to wait another day.”

“Some can’t wait,” I replied. “And some of your people are too highborn to accept any delay in getting what they want. The only ones who would
have
to wait for my help are your slaves, and I will never allow that.”

“I thought you might say that.” Daimu handed me a small cloth bag tied with twine. When I closed my hand around it, it gave off a heady, beautiful scent.

“What’s this?”

“Herbs and dried flower petals. When you go to bathe in the river, wet it and use it to scrub your skin. It will revive you and give you energy.”

I took his hand in mine and squeezed it gently. “You are always doing kind things for me, Daimu. When you returned my bell and mirror, it was only the beginning. How many times has Ashi or one of the others distracted me from my meals long enough for extra food to appear on my plate? Why have I found pretty beads scattered across my doorway, just waiting to be strung into a necklace? I know that birds’ nests don’t appear out of nowhere, filled with nuts and dried fruits, and yet that’s exactly what was waiting on top of my bedroll when I went to unfurl it three nights ago. And now this.”

He looked down at our clasped hands. “I’m not doing anything special; I’m being selfish. It makes me happy to see you enjoying such small things. Your smile becomes pure.”

“What do you mean, ‘pure’?”

“Free of hidden grief, free of ghosts. I know that you can never be completely happy while you live here, so far from your home, under Ryu’s rule. I can’t break the walls of your cage, but if I can widen the spaces between the bars—”

I remembered my vision of caged birds among the willows and my grip on Daimu’s hand tightened so violently that he winced. “Who are you?” I whispered without realizing how bizarre that question would sound.

“Himiko?” He looked bewildered and worried about me.

I closed my eyes tightly and took a long, cleansing breath. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what made me ask you such a thing. I must be more tired than I thought.”

“You should rest,” he said, and helped me to my feet even though I was perfectly capable of doing so myself.

I slept late the next day, drowning in my dreams. I saw myself back among my people, welcomed home by the living and the dead. We met in the shadow of Grandfather Pine, even though the Ookami had torn down that ancient tree when they conquered our village. Countless arms enfolded me. Father’s smile was a blessing. Mama stood to one side, balancing Noboru on her hip and smiling tranquilly. Not a trace of her wild madness remained.

Aki was there too. He held me close and ruffled my hair as though I were still a child.
How does it feel, Little Sister?
he asked, beaming at me.
How do you like being in love?

What are you talking about, Aki?
I protested.
I’m not in love!

Oh, but you are! You’re just not ready to admit it. You’re like a little tower of pebbles stacked one on the other. They stand firm, until someone adds a single grain of sand to the top and then—!
He made the clattering sound of their fall and flashed his fingers in my face so suddenly that I gaped and woke up.

“Big Sister?” A small voice, well known and well loved, sounded shyly in my ear as I lay curled up sideways on my bedroll. “Big Sister, are you asleep?”

I rolled first onto my back, then to my other side and saw him: my little brother, Noboru. My eyes went wide.

“Yes,” I said faintly. “I think I must be dreaming. How else could I be seeing you here?”

“I brought him, Himiko.” Daimu spoke from the doorway to my sleeping quarters. “Early this morning I went to the chieftain’s house and spoke privately with Lady Sato. It’s simple to get her cooperation when she’s happy, and she is
very
happy having plenty of servants at her beck and call once more. We agreed that there is no
good
reason to keep the child away from his beloved sister, so long as Ryu doesn’t find out.” He scratched the back of his head. “Lady Sato doesn’t have a very high opinion of her son’s judgment, it seems.”

I took Noboru into my arms and held him as though monsters were striving to tear him away from me. “Is that why she let you bring him here secretly?” I asked. “Because she scorns her own son?”

“Well, there is another reason,” Daimu confessed. “It’s because she’s become a little—just a little!—afraid of you.”

“What?”

He spread his hands. “You are a shaman, Himiko. You have openly served the spirits with all of our people to witness it. The village hums with stories of all the healings you have performed. Some of your patients tell tales about how you cast out multitudes of demons and banished evil ghosts from afflicting the sick. You have become a formidable girl.”

“But I never did anything like that,” I protested. “It’s nothing but lies!”

“I know, but those lies make other people pay attention to the liars. If you can’t fight gossip, use it.” He indicated Noboru. “I did.”

“I don’t suppose Lady Sato fears me enough to set us free?” Daimu shook his head. “But enough to help me be with Noboru?” He nodded. “Every day?”

“As long as Ryu doesn’t find out,” Daimu reminded me.

I hugged my little brother and smiled. “That will be good enough for now.”

But it wasn’t good enough for Daimu. A few days after he first brought Noboru to me, he took us to a small pit house far from the center of the village. He refused to reveal his purpose, but I suspected what it must be, and who dwelled in that drab hut.

He paused just outside and called: “They are here.”

A fast-moving bundle of energy shot out of the doorway and Noboru and I were knocked backward by our unruly half brother, Sanjirou.

“Big Sister! Big Sister! It
is
you! It
is
!” He was taller and scrawnier than when I’d last seen him, but that had been
a long time ago. Even though his eyes looked too old for a child, slavery had not yet broken his rambunctious spirit. He threw his arms around my neck and nearly dragged me to the ground with the force of his embrace.

“Sanjirou, stop that!” My stepmother Emi stuck her head out of the small house. She looked haggard and her hair was heavily streaked with gray. “Someone will see.” She made quick motions for everyone to come inside, where we had to huddle close together. Only then did she manage to take me into her arms for an awkward hug.

“Oh, my dear Himiko, how good it is to see you!” she cried. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” I said, choking back a sob. “Are you well?”

Even in the dimness of her tiny house, my stepmother’s smile was radiant. “I have never been better. So, what they say about you must be true: you are a wonderful healer. You restore me, body and spirit, just by being here.”

I drew back enough to examine her with my eyes. “
Do
you need healing, Mother?” I asked.

She laughed. “Ah, little Himiko, so serious, so grown up! No, my precious one, you don’t have to worry about me. I am not ill or hurt, and my Sanjirou enjoys excellent health in spite of all the work our masters pile on such a young child.”

“I’m
not
a child,” Sanjirou declared. With a look of pride directed at Noboru, he added: “I am the
man
in this house!”

“It’s not a very big house,” Noboru observed. The next
instant, my little brothers were tussling in the dirt while Emi fluttered over them, ineffectively trying to put a stop to their harmless brawl.

Once the boys settled down, Emi, Daimu, and I spoke about the future.

“You will be able to come here whenever you like,” Emi said happily. “This place isn’t much, but Sanjirou and I have it all to ourselves, so it’s better than our former lodgings.” She gave Daimu a grateful look.

“It’s also surrounded by other slaves’ quarters and out of the way,” he added. “None of the Ookami have any business here. Even if any of my people did notice you, they’d think you’re tending the sick, not visiting your family.”

“Can I come back to visit too?” Noboru asked plaintively.

Sanjirou shoved him. “You’d better! But you can’t tell anyone about it, all right? Swear!” The two boys immediately began constructing a bloodthirsty oath of total secrecy, calling on the gods for the slow, painful, bone-by-bone destruction of anyone who broke it. The rest of us had to clap our hands across our mouths to keep from laughing.

That evening I waited until Daimu and I were alone before speaking to him about the events of the day. I had already thanked him, but there was so much more I needed to say, or my heart would burst from holding back the words.

“Daimu …,” I began, and all at once I found myself speechless, helpless, and trembling. What strange magic stole my ability to utter a single sound? Why was I drowning in a flood of feelings that swirled around me and dragged me deeper into myself? I felt my face blaze with shame.
He’s
staring at me, waiting for me to speak, but I can’t
. I can’t!
O my sweet goddess, aid me, open my lips, lend me your light! I can’t see the path I need to tread and Daimu is waiting. He’ll think I’m nothing but a fool!

I tried again: “Daimu, I know I’ve already thanked you for bringing my family back together. I can never repay you for it, but—”

“Please don’t say anything more about it, Himiko,” he asked, his voice low and rough. “I didn’t do this to earn your thanks. You must never feel that you are in my debt. Some gifts have no value unless they are freely given—not to get something in return, not to settle an obligation, but given from the heart.”

“From the heart,” I repeated, and leaned forward to touch my lips to his.

How could I not love Daimu? He trusted me, he believed in me, he cared about me more than he did about himself. I could not deny that he was attractive, but Ryu was just as handsome on the surface. Age would dull their eyes, steal the gleaming blackness from their hair, and mark their faces, but Daimu’s spirit would still shine as brightly, then as now.

Our first kiss opened our lives to each other. In the tender warmth of the springtime evenings we sat together on the platform of the shrine, watching the sunset paint cherry blossoms over the clouds, and spoke. Each new thing he told me about his childhood, his years of growing up and suddenly knowing he was meant to serve the spirits, his fears and failings, bound us more closely. Every
secret I shared with him became the petals of a windflower, opening one by one even in the chill of autumn to reveal a golden heart.

When I told him about the first time I had entered the spirits’ realm and met Reikon, he smiled sadly. “Is that why you care for me, Himiko? Because I look like him?”

I wished I could have put my arms around him and driven that question from his lips with a kiss, but some passer-by might look up at the shrine and see that. Instead I shook my head and said, “Spirit or mortal, you are the only one for me.”

Those sweet days filled my life with contentment and hope. Daimu and I became inseparable, though we took great care to conceal our true relationship from his people. Ryu was wise enough to fear the power Daimu had over the spirits, but who knew what would make his resentful nature flare up enough to destroy his common sense?

One morning, Daimu announced that he was going into the mountains for fresh leaves, shoots, and blossoms to replenish our medicinal supplies. “I’m sorry that I can’t bring you with me, Himiko,” he said.

“I’m sorry too,” I replied. “It’s been too long since I wandered the forest! How long will you be gone?”

“I’ll be back by sundown.” He gathered up an armload of empty sacks and went away.

I was left behind in a deserted shrine and an almost deserted village. Ashi and the other slaves who tended the shrine with me were gone. The good weather and the good fortune of the wolf clan made Ryu decide it was time to break ground on a new rice paddy, high on the slope where
the sun lingered longest. It was a project that demanded the hands of every healthy worker, slave or free, and I overheard Ashi tell one of her friends that Ryu himself was going to labor with everyone else. I muttered a wish for him to fall on his face in the muck, just as he’d done years ago, when I pushed him into our moat back home.

As I swept the shrine floor, I enjoyed the peace of being by myself, attended only by my thoughts. When I was with Daimu, I found it hard to think about anything but him and how the two of us might create our future. The hushed, rhythmic
ksh-ksh-ksh
of the broom sent my mind wandering down many roads, each unrolling before me like a tightly coiled rope that is suddenly released, each becoming hopelessly tangled in a snarl of questions that I could not answer:

How could we get away from the Ookami? Would Daimu even consent to leave his people again? What would we do about bringing Noboru with us? How could we take him and leave Emi and Sanjirou behind? And most frightening of all to contemplate, if somehow we did succeed in escaping the wolves of the mountains and making our way back to my own clan, what was to prevent Ryu from hunting down his shaman and his property? What would stop the Ookami chieftain from taking vengeance by turning my home into a worse wasteland than the ghost lands of the hawk clan?

I knew the answer to that final question, at least: nothing.

I swept harder.

“Master Daimu? Master Daimu?” A young girl’s voice climbed the ladder to the shrine long before her face peered through the doorway. “I beg your pardon, Lady Himiko, but where is Master Daimu, please?” She wove and unwove her fingers nervously.

“Gone to the mountains to gather herbs,” I told her. “Is something wrong? Maybe I can help you.”

“Oh!” She looked as tense and jumpy as a rabbit when the fox prowls near her warren. Everything about her said
Let me run away!
“I—I—I don’t think you
can
help. My mother told me that on the day you became a keeper of the shrine, Lord Ryu forbade you to come back under his roof.”