The Initiate Brother Duology (118 page)

Tadamoto bowed. “I shall strive to be worthy of this honor, Sire.”

“See that you do.” They approached the guard holding the Emperor’s horse. “Ride with me, Colonel, I wish to inspect our defenses.”

A
FTER DAYS OF haste Lord Shonto’s flotilla lay against the bank, only the current moving the hulls, causing them to tug lightly on their lines. The lengthening day had worn on to dusk, the sun setting behind the western mountains—the colors of an autumn hillside washed into the sky.

Shonto and Nishima walked along the bank, followed at a discreet distance by guards. In the near distance other men in Shonto blue had established a perimeter, keeping the refugees and the curious at bay.

“Are you concerned about the safety of Master Myochin, Uncle?” Nishima asked. Lord Shonto seemed withdrawn, quieter than usual. He had sent a party to the home of his former gii master, who lived nearby, and they had returned without the old man. Myochin Ekun the legendary master of the board, blind from birth yet six times champion of Wa.

Shonto waved to the small creek mouth that opened across the canal. “I have left guards and archers in the woods. Eku-sum’s home is difficult to find. There is no path to lead one there and the barbarians keep most of their force on the canal’s opposite side. If there is trouble, my guards will hide Master Myochin in the hills.” Shonto shook his head. “He would not leave his home, saying he has nothing even the poorest barbarian would desire. He is getting very old. In a note Eku-sum had a servant write, he suggested that I would soon have an opportunity to perform a move no gii player could ever choose—I could sacrifice an Emperor.” Shonto smiled. “He will never cease to offer me lessons.”

They walked a little farther along the bank, saying little.

“Do you not find this strange that they would suddenly give up the chase?” Nishima
asked. It was the subject on everyone’s mind. The small army had ceased to pursue Shonto’s flotilla.

“Perhaps, but they are not really such a large force and we draw near the capital. If a large Imperial Army suddenly appeared, the small army would be at risk. Twenty-five thousand is almost a third of the Khan’s army. He is wise not to risk them. It is also true that they have accomplished their main purpose: in the wake of the small army crops are growing which will allow the Khan to feed his entire army very soon.”

Nishima nodded. “So we have stopped to rest our forces.”

Shonto nodded. “That, and for other reasons. The Emperor has moved north of the capital with his army. If we were to meet that force before the Emperor has seen the true size of the desert army, the Son of Heaven may be led to foolish actions. We cannot allow a battle between ourselves and the Emperor. As it stands, our combined force is likely less than the Khan’s. I will risk no more men.”

They came to a stand of plum trees, the canal bank almost white with decaying petals. The leaves were quickly reaching their mature size, opening like blossoms. Long shadows stretched out onto the surface of the canal and in the warm light the water took on the color of burnished copper. The thinnest sliver of a crescent moon floated overhead.

Coming to a tree trunk that curved out almost horizontally over the water, Shonto stopped and leaned against it. Nishima circled its base and leaned against the opposite side beside her uncle. They stayed like that, side by side facing opposite directions, without speaking for some minutes.

Shonto reached down and plucked a new strand of grass and twirled it distractedly. “We will be forced south again within days. The large barbarian army moves more quickly now that they have true river craft and river men to sail them. Once we meet the Emperor’s force, I cannot predict what will happen. Any agreement we make with the Emperor at that time will be illusory, only respected as long as there is the common threat of this Khan and his army. If we defeat the Khan, Akantsu will turn on us if he is able.” Shonto wound the blade of grass around his finger like a ring. “The Emperor is not a man whose actions can easily be foreseen. He may retreat once he sees the barbarian army in its true strength; it is impossible to say. I must tell you now that the safety of the Empire will take precedence over the interests of the Shonto House.” The lord fell silent for a moment. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the plum grove.

“If the worst befalls us, it is my plan to retreat into the mountains. You should know this—one cannot predict who will survive a battle.”

Nishima took a long breath. “If we must run, why to the mountains? Ika Cho would seem to offer better possibilities for raising an army? The mountains are not hospitable to those not born there.”

“The Emperor holds Ika Cho and Shokan-sum has fled. I have reason to believe we would find friends in the mountains.”

Nishima looked up at her uncle’s face. He would always surprise her—friends in the mountains? She wanted to ask but knew that if he had wanted her to know more he would have continued.

“I had thought you bore the news of Shokan-sum’s retreat into the pass with great poise. Is there hope for him, then?”

Shonto nodded. “I know nothing for certain, but his situation is certainly no worse than our own.” The lord tossed the blade of grass like a dart and it was swept away on the breeze. “In the coming battle the forces of Wa will lose if there are factions holding back, hoping to save their troops to win a civil war after the barbarians are vanquished. The army of the desert is too large. We can only hope to meet it with total commitment and intelligent selection of the battle ground. If you are forced to go into the mountains, do not become separated from Shuyun-sum. He will be as valuable as a thousand guards. Do not forget. The Shonto have fled the Empire before and lived in the wilds. If Botahara smiles upon us, Shokan-sum will not find his way through the mountains before this war is decided. Let the Yamaku know that the Shonto are beyond their reach, waiting.”

Nishima laid her hand on Shonto’s arm. “Uncle, I do not doubt your wisdom, but neither do I doubt the wisdom of the people of Wa. They will not allow the Yamaku to call themselves Emperors after this war, no matter what the outcome.”

Placing his hand over his daughter’s, Shonto squeezed. “I hope you are correct, Nishi-sum. May the people of Wa not disappoint you.”

*   *   *

The last trace of sunset disappeared before Shimeko’s eyes, but the sky retained a hint of the darkest blue among the myriad stars and the crescent moon. The young woman leaned against the rigging of the plague ship, forcing an appearance of calm over herself. Although Botahist monks were notoriously observant, she hoped they would not notice her despair. The fact
that, commonly, she was almost entirely ignored by them would no doubt work in her favor.

A short distance down the bank the last embers of a funeral pyre were glowing like the molten colors of the sunset. Inara-sum, the young Shonto soldier, had attained completion. Death, the former nun realized, should hardly shake her as it did. As a devout follower of the Way, the young man could only look forward to returning a step closer to Perfection. Yet…. Shimeko did not feel the conviction necessary to keep grief at bay.

The growing belief that Inara’s funeral had been seen as a celebration by the Brothers caused a constriction inside her. The young man’s death was somehow regarded as a triumph. The Brothers’ attitude was frightening to her, seemed almost monstrous.
They had celebrated his death because he believed with such conviction,
she realized. And this war would bring death to thousands of Botahara’s followers. Would the Brothers celebrate that?

News was traveling quickly now—news of the atrocities committed by the invaders. She had been watching the faces of the refugees as they passed, frightened, unable to believe what was occurring. The faces had begun to haunt her dreams.

With an effort Shimeko forced a calm over her mind and focused on her situation.

The plague ship was moored to trees and held close to the canal bank. No other ships lay within a half rih of it and the long lines of refugees gave the ship flying the plague banner a wide berth. Turning as casually as she was able, Shimeko surveyed the deck. Other than the single man guarding the gangway, only sleeping river men could be seen.

In one graceful motion Shimeko slipped over the side, lowering herself easily into the water which rose to mid-thigh. Two quiet steps brought her to the bank and several more put her among the trees. She stopped then to be sure there was no sudden movement on board ship, no sign that she had been observed, but there was nothing.

I will not be missed now until morning, she thought, and by then I will be far to the north—and on my way from all the things that cause my turmoil. May Botahara forgive me.

T
HE PLUM BLOSSOM Winds gave way to the fitful breezes of late spring and the nights and mornings saw the occasional fog from cold air descending the mountainsides into the lowlands after the sun set. Although this mist slowed the flotilla that bore Lord Shonto south, the barbarian army suffered the same, putting off the inevitable day of battle—though only briefly.

A day’s march north of the Imperial Army’s position, Shonto landed his force and spent several days engaged in the final preparations for battle. Reconnaissance parties were sent both north and south to gather information about both hostile armies and a constant stream of riders came and went bearing reports and orders.

The main body of the army of the desert had rejoined the smaller force and they continued their push into the inner provinces. Skirmishes between barbarian patrols and the companies Shonto sent north became more and more frequent as the armies vied to control the lands that lay between them.

Accompanied by General Hojo, Lord Taiki, and Prince Wakaro, Shonto rode among the troops, speaking to the various company commanders, making his presence known. An army caught between two enemy forces needed the reassurance of a confident commander and, in this capacity, Lord Shonto lifted spirits wherever he passed.

The army itself was a patchwork affair made up of the well-armed and trained retainers of various lords, Imperial Guards, and the recruits who had
arrived with every variety of weapon and armor—many of them looking like patchwork themselves.

Horses were being exercised and fed on green pasture, many a man squared off against another with swords, and archers loosed their arrows on makeshift targets. More than one wager had been laid on these various contests and officers were alert to see that no disputes erupted into real violence—with men from all regions of the Empire such things were not unknown. Despite the activity in the encampment there was also an air of something being amiss—laughter that was too loud, many a young man deliberately alone with his thoughts, men looking suddenly embarrassed when Shonto approached as though the lord might read what was in their minds by the looks on their faces.

Prince Wakaro turned to Lord Shonto as they rode. “I can’t help but wonder about these men, Lord Shonto.” He tugged at a braid in his horse’s mane. “Are they afraid? I myself cannot find words to describe what I feel. I don’t even know if it is fear.”

Shonto stroked the neck of his mount with a leather gloved hand. “Anticipation of a battle wears away at men, Prince, until they reach a point where they want a decision to be made: either they will live or die, but they will stand no more of this existence, suspended somewhere between life and death. At a certain point battle comes as a relief.”

The Prince looked up at Lord Shonto who surveyed the army with an experienced eye. He was coming to respect this man whom his father considered the Yamaku’s greatest enemy, and this he found unsettling.

Shonto waved his hand to encompass the entire encampment. “Your opinion, Lord Taiki.”

Taiki brought his horse up and looked slowly around. “It is an army, Lord Shonto. There have been better and there have been far worse. Battle experience is lacking among the young, and I do not know that we will have more than one battle in which to gain this. The other armies, I’m sure, suffer from this same weakness,” he hurried to add. “The barbarians, however, fight in a land that is so different from their own that I cannot believe this does not unsettle them. Retreat must also look daunting, should they fail in their purpose. Such factors must be weighed in a battle.”