The Initiate Brother Duology (64 page)

There was silence in the room. Kamu was the first to speak. “How is it you are so certain? Did you see this at hand, Shuyun-sum? Did you touch it?”

“The skeleton was seen at a distance, Kamu-sum, yet I do not doubt what I saw. The situation was almost too natural to have been contrived. The position of the dragon was strange, somewhat twisted as one might lie having fallen in death, and there were parts of the skeleton missing, randomly as though from natural causes. It was also very large—larger than our ancient accounts would suggest. The proportion, too, was unusual; the head was not in proportion to the whole, and the body was thicker than one would have expected. These things convinced me that what I saw was real. If it had been contrived, I’m sure it would have been made more impressive, and more true to our idea of what a dragon should be. I believe that I have looked upon the remains of an actual dragon, as impossible as that seems.”

Hojo shook his head. “I wish I had been with you, Lord Komawara, Brother. It is difficult for me to imagine such a thing.”

“But such a thing,” Nishima offered, “would be a powerful symbol to…those of less sophisticated culture. This is the same dragon embossed on the coins?”

“Undoubtedly,” Komawara said. “It has strengthened the mystique of this Khan, I’m sure. Kalam is both awed and terrified by what we saw. I would imagine it affects others the same. I, too, was left with a feeling of awe. Ama-Haji is a place of power, regardless of one’s sophistication.”

“Perhaps we should hear the rest of the story and return to speculate upon this matter later,” Lord Shonto said.

“Beyond Ama-Haji,” Shuyun continued, “the Kalam took us down onto a plain where the army of the Khan had made their encampment. It was larger than we ever imagined. Large enough to have contained sixty to seventy thousand warriors. Perhaps more.”

Hojo interrupted. “Encampments have been contrived to lie about the size of an army before, Shuyun-sum. We battle warriors, not encampments. How many warriors did you see?”

“We followed the tracks of a large force detached from that army—they seemed to be moving toward Seh, General Hojo. They altered their direction, though, and turned east toward the sea. This force contained forty
thousand men, to my count, and we believe it was but a part of the larger whole.”

Hojo cursed under his breath and Kamu clutched at the shoulder of his missing arm, his face contorted as though in sudden pain.

“This cannot be,” the steward whispered, “cannot.”

“If they have forces in such number,” Shonto said, “and I do not doubt you, why do they hesitate? With such an army I could sweep through Seh in weeks. The north would be mine before the Empire awoke to the victory, and then the winter would guard me until spring. By that time I would be ready for armies from the south. Seh could be taken and held. This waiting makes no sense.”

“They may not know the strength of Seh, Sire.” Nishima offered. “The raiders who venture here see richness and concentrations of people beyond their experience. Perhaps they cannot tell how vulnerable we are. If they were to attack now and Seh were to hold for even a few short weeks, until the weather changes, then the element of surprise would be gone entirely. I am not a general, but it seems to me that the safe course would be to wait until spring. Surprise, they believe, will still be their ally, and if the campaign takes longer, the season will favor them.”

General Hojo nodded, more than half a bow, to Lady Nishima, his face registering both surprise and an almost paternal pride.

Shonto eyed his military advisor. “General?”

“Lady Nishima’s reasoning seems sound, Sire. Many battles have been lost that could have easily been won had the generals only known the exact moment to attack. We should also consider that there may be other reasons for the barbarians waiting—despite the importance of the information we have received from Shuyun-sum and Lord Komawara, there is still much we do not know.”

Shonto nodded. “This is true. Shuyun-sum, can your servant cast a light on this matter?”

Shuyun spoke quietly to the Kalam who responded with what was obviously a question. Shuyun spoke again and then, nodding, the tribesman spoke at length. “The Kalam says the Dragon priests warned that an attack now would fail—that spring was the propitious time for certain victory—or so it is said. His Gensi, a term like hunt leader, believed that the Khan had heard that a great warrior chief came to Seh—this is not clear to me, Sire—the Kalam uses a word that has no meaning in our own language. Perhaps ‘ancient
reborn’ would be an approximation. It was said that this chief came with a formidable army. The Gensi believed this was the real reason that plans were altered.” Shuyun gave a half bow. “This great warrior chief is clearly you, Lord Shonto.”

“Huh.” Shonto shook his head. “This does not explain why they hesitate. I will be here in the spring.” Shonto looked around the room but no one offered an explanation.

Reaching behind him, Shonto took his sword off its stand. He composed himself and all present waited without sign of impatience. “Though there is much we do not know, there can be no question, now, that war will come to Seh as winter ends. In four months we will face a barbarian army. We have that time to gain the support necessary and, even here where the blow will be struck, there are many who will not believe what has been seen in the desert.

“I must gain the support of the Throne, though how we will do this when gold, that in all likelihood comes from the Imperial mint, appears in the hands of our enemy, I do not know. This barbarian has said that the Emperor of Wa pays tribute to the Khan—but for what purpose? It is my fear that in an attempt to bring down the Shonto, the Emperor has been sending gold into the desert. Is this Khan a creature of our revered Emperor?” Shonto paused. “It does not take an army of sixty thousand to bring down one family. This has every indication of plan that has gone horribly awry. This Khan has designs of his own, do not doubt it.”

Shonto fell silent for a moment but attention did not waver from him. “I do not believe that Jaku has fallen from grace with his Emperor. This is too convenient. If Jaku can be made to see the true danger, then I’m sure we will win the Emperor’s support.”

“I agree entirely, Sire,” Kamu offered. “Jaku is the key to our Emperor, but I cannot see how we will accomplish Jaku’s enlightenment.”

Shonto looked down at the sword in his hands. “We will find a way,” he said quietly.

“Seh is now on a war footing. In four months we will be prepared for the battles that will come if we have to strip this city of its furnishings and sell them to the Emperor himself.” Shonto looked at his daughter for a moment and his face softened. Almost immediately he turned his attention back to the others. “There may be some unavoidable delays in the submission of Seh’s taxes to the Emperor this year.” Both Kamu and Hojo smiled.

“Four months to prepare, to win the support that we require. The fate of an entire province depends on how well we perform this task. We must not fail. We cannot.” Shonto fell silent for a moment.

Shuyun cleared his throat. “Sire? There is another explanation for this delaying of battle. It is undoubtedly true, as my lord says, that an attack now would see the fall of Seh. But the fall of Seh would give the south warning and the entire winter to prepare.” Shuyun looked up at those around him. “If one wishes to conquer Seh, one would attack now. If one has decided to conquer an Empire…one would wait.”

To S.J.R. for grace and humor, always.

Thanks to the many who have given support, encouragement, wisdom, and inspiration during the writing of these books: Don and Michael, Ian Dennis, John H., Ellen B., Jan, Jill and Walter, Margo, Kim E., Lady Murasaki, Bella Pomer, Stephan W., Betsy and Peter, Lang, Ted, Dave Duncan, Sei Shonagon, Erin, Sam, Shelley, Bob M., and David Hinton for his beautiful translations of Tu Fu.

T
HE WIND KNOWN as the Nagana blew in its season, turning the capital of the province of Seh into a city of whispers and sighs. The near empty avenues succumbed to the Nagana’s invasion as it wound its way among the uninhabited residences, wrenching at shutters and filling the streets with the echoes of the city’s former life—before the plague had swept the north. Rhojo-ma was a city half full of vibrant northerners and half full of the ghosts of the plague dead; only a decade gone, they walked in living memory still.

In the late afternoon the Nagana came out of the north to haunt the city with the voices of its past, and the people in the streets hurried on their way, attempting to ignore the sounds. No family had been untouched by the plague and the whispering of ghosts spoke to everyone.

By the curb of a lesser avenue, on the low wall of a bridge that arced over the canal, sat a Neophyte Botahist monk. Apparently oblivious to the life of the city, he chanted—a low, barely melodic sound that mingled with the wind echoing down an empty stone stairwell and off a nearby wall.

If he was unaware of the city around him, it could be said that the city, or at least those who walked its streets, were barely more aware of him. Their only acknowledgment, the reflex action of a sign to Botahara as they passed, but few turned their gaze to look for the source of the chant. A monk sitting by his alms cup was as common a sight as a river man at his oar.

A coin rattled dully into the monk’s leather cup and he gave a quick
double bow, not interrupting his chant or looking up to see who his benefactor might be.

Without warning the already cool air turned colder and the wind died to a calm. The whispering of ghosts fell to a hush. It seemed only the chanting of the young monk moved the air, and the pedestrians hesitated as though they’d suddenly forgotten the purpose of their outings.

There was a long moment of this eerie stillness, and then a deep roll of thunder shook the walls of Rhojo-ma, seeming for all the world to have originated in the depths of the earth, so substantial did it feel.

The air took on form and turned to white as hail pelted down in a sudden torrent. The staccato of ice stones drumming on tile drowned out all other sounds, but in moments it reduced its volume to a mere drizzle, then turned to rain.

At the first crash of thunder the residents of Rhojo-ma hurried to cover, leaving the monk alone on his wall, still chanting, apparently oblivious to the pelting hail despite the thinness of his robe.

The monk’s recent benefactor stood under the bridge, hoping the downpour would not last and contemplating the timing of his offering with the bursting of the clouds. It was not the blessing he had hoped Botahara would bestow. He shook the hailstones from his robe, brushing the white pebbles off the shinta blossom and flying horse emblems embroidered over his heart.

Several of Seh’s more humble residents shared the man’s refuge, but they stood apart from him and had bowed deeply before stepping into the shelter, waiting for his invitation. Though still a very young man, Corporal Rohku was a member of Governor Shonto’s personal guard and, as such, a person of some importance despite his lack of years and low rank.