The Lord of the Sands of Time (8 page)

Nonetheless, Miyo accepted his proposal. Five days later, a force of five thousand warriors assembled. After rituals to ensure their success, they set off. Miyo and the Messenger rode in separate palanquins. Iga, their destination, lay 250
ri
northeast of Makimuku. The march would take three days.

Sure enough, Miyo’s palanquin was in the middle of the column while the Messenger’s litter was at the head. They were not allowed to be together despite Takahikoné’s suggestion that she assist him. Not only that, no runner was permitted to come and go between their palanquins. But the Messenger had given Miyo a
magatama
bead that allowed her to communicate with him over the two
ri
of the column separating them.

“What do you think Takahikoné is up to?” said the Messenger.

“When the ruler is absent, the minister who is left behind dreams of taking the throne. Such has been the way of the world since the beginning. But Takahikoné would not do that. Not yet. It would hardly please the other chieftains. While he strengthens his position, he probably hopes we will meet with some unexpected accident.”

“That sounds rather unpleasant.”

Miyo stirred restlessly inside the tiny palanquin draped with a wickerwork screen to shield her from prying eyes. A merry, masculine laugh sounded from the
magatama
. “Never fear. Kan will protect us. That boy shows promise.”

Kan was strolling along behind the slaves carrying Miyo’s litter, a fearsome short sword—bestowed on him by the Messenger—tucked into the folds of his tunic. Miyo, her spirits raised, spoke into the bead. “Keep your wits about you. Those Hayato from Kumaso are deft enough to pluck out your very liver without you being the wiser.”

“No one’s getting my liver,” answered the Messenger coolly. “Tell me about the enemy. As far as I know, this clash with Kunu was supposed to take place sometime later. Are there frequent battles between Yamatai and Kunu?”

“Of course not. And since I became queen, not once. Kunu knows its place. I must confess I have no idea why they attack us now. I always thought Kukochihiko was a reasonable man. Messenger O, don’t you know why this is happening?”

“We don’t know the motivation. But a large mass of people, some bearing arms, are pressing toward Iga from the east.” This was the sword speaking. Miyo was slowly becoming accustomed to the Messenger’s miracles; now she felt the urge to learn something basic.

“A question, sword.”

“Cutty, if you please,” answered the sword.

“Where are you, Cutty?”

“Where am I? I am everywhere.”

“Don’t be sly. You cast your voice from a distance with the same magic as this bead, do you not?” said Miyo.

“Very good,” replied the sword. Miyo heard the Messenger choking back a laugh. The sword was silent a moment, then: “Yes. My body is in a certain location. From there, I control eyes and ears all over the world. But don’t tell anyone. This is important strategic information.”

“Are you the Messenger’s wife?” asked Miyo.

“Excuse me?” Again the Messenger’s laughter spilled from the
magatama
. The sword’s voice was disapproving. “The answer is no. The Messenger does not marry. No, you do not understand the feelings of AIs like us. Romance arises when there is something about an individual that another cannot understand.”

“You needn’t become so upset about it,” said Miyo.

“I am not upset!”

“Queen Himiko! Miyo!” The Messenger sounded as if he’d laugh himself sick. “No human has ever cornered Cutty like that,” he said finally.

The sword cut in, “This is no time for idle chatter.”

“I know. I hear it too. We’ve got a lot of Wasps deployed,” said the Messenger.

“Coverage over the entire Ueno basin,” said Cutty. “I confirm multiple sonic signatures of bronze-edged weapons cutting timber and human flesh—the sounds of battle. I’m detecting elevated temperatures and hydrocarbon particles. There are fires.”

“Looks like we’re ready to put on a demonstration,” said the Messenger.

“You will join the battle?” asked Miyo.

“The only thing that light show is going to earn me is a little respect, nothing more. I have to follow it up with a feat of arms.” They had discussed this already before setting out. Miyo realized that her concern for the Messenger’s safety was personal. She dropped any pretense that it was otherwise. “Be careful. The Emishi are deadly bowmen,” she warned.

“Save your worries for the enemy,” answered the Messenger. “Sometimes I don’t know when to stop killing.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Miyo murmured, as the dull baying of bamboo war trumpets began sounding along the column, a wave of activity spreading down the ranks. The trumpets sounded again and again, captains marshalling their men. There was a clatter of drawn swords and the pounding of running feet. Men with whips moved horses and oxen in the baggage train off to the side of the path. Miyo lifted the edge of the screen and peered out.

They were in a ravine, with open country a short distance ahead. The narrow way ran along a small stream. Even with no head for tactics, Miyo could see the danger of an ambush here. But Takahaya was already reinforcing his vanguard and sending small parties of soldiers running up the sides of the ravine and along the stream to flush out any enemies lying in wait.

Miyo heard a noise behind her and turned to see Kan’s narrow face peering into the palanquin. “Lady Miyo, we are moving you to the rear. It is dangerous here.”

“No. I will stay.” Then she realized Kan did not know of the Messenger’s plans, and added: “The Messenger will join the battle. There’s nothing to fear.”

“But my lady…” Kan seemed to be groping for words—
No matter how strong he is, how much difference can he make?
Miyo tried another tack.

“Go forward and see what’s happening, then come back and tell me. I can’t go myself.”

“I won’t leave your side,” said Kan.

“It’s all right. Hear that? The trumpets are sounding the advance. I’ll be safe here. And you want to prove yourself, don’t you?”

“But…” Still Kan hesitated, so Miyo pointed through the gap in the screen. “Look, they’ve raised the banners!”

Near the front ranks, a huge yellow banner, double the span of a man’s arms, soared above the host. Never before had this awe-inspiring war flag, trimmed in threads of gold, been raised in battle. Years before, it had been sent to Wa as a gift from the great empire of Wei. The banner’s four Chinese characters—
Ruler of Wa, Friend of Wei—
rustled in the breeze, a proclamation to all from the emperor across the sea.

A great battle cry rose from the host. Miyo smiled as she saw Kan’s eyes widen with childlike wonder. He ran excitedly toward the vanguard.

At last the sounds of battle came from the direction of the front, but died down almost immediately. This was not part of the plan. Apparently this was not a full-scale engagement. Miyo spoke to the
magatama
. “Messenger O? What is happening?”

“Apparently just a detachment of enemy pathfinders. We’re starting the search for the main body. You there, give me that horse!” The Messenger took someone’s mount. Miyo said no more, not wanting to distract him. The war trumpets sounded again, and the column lurched into motion.

They left the ravine and moved into open country. Here and there across the plain, which was half the expanse of Yamatai, Miyo could see smoke rising from dwellings that had been set ablaze. Still, something was wrong—war banners and the glitter of helmet and armor were nowhere to be seen. Where were the enemy forces?

Miyo was restless with anxiety but the
magatama
was silent, even as the column entered one of the villages. The order to stand was handed down to bivouac, and Miyo took her midday meal in a large house in the village. Not till the sun began its journey down the sky did the bead speak again. But the tone of that voice made Miyo uneasy.

“Miyo.”

“What happened? Are you safe?” she asked.

“I’m returning now,” said the Messenger. “I was delayed.”

“What do you mean? Are you hurt? Tell me!” But there was no answer.

Finally Kan returned, his face flushed with the excitement of combat. “Lady Miyo, victory is ours. I dispatched one of them myself. He was attacking a farmer; we crossed blades—”

“I was worried about you. I waited long,” said Miyo.

“I’m sorry.” Abashed and reminded of his responsibilities to Miyo, Kan dipped his head in respect.

Miyo smiled; she was relieved to see him unharmed. “Did you see the Messenger fight the enemy?” she asked.

“I saw him. He fought from horseback, wielding his long sword. He scattered the Emishi like dolls. No arrow found him, no spear made him flinch. He is terribly strong. All the men were in awe of him.”

“He is unhurt, then?” asked Miyo.

“Not even a scratch.”

Then why had he seemed so downhearted just now? As she mulled this over, a voice called from outside. Kan went to see. When he returned he was frowning.

“Takahaya blathers about an audience. A man of his station! You needn’t pay any attention, I think.”

“Wait,” said Miyo. “What does he want?”

“He said an envoy from the enemy wants to speak with you directly. Why don’t they just drive the envoy away?”

“An Emishi messenger?” said Miyo. This was peculiar;a war declaration or a request for parley could simply be passed to Takahaya, Lord Ikima’s proxy. To request an audience with Himiko herself suggested something extraordinary. Miyo motioned Kan away and whispered into the
magatama
. “Messenger O! One of the Emishi requests an audience. I believe I should speak with him. What say you?”

“Yes, go ahead—no, I’ll meet him too. Come, I’m in Takahaya’s quarters.”

Shielded from the eyes of the common folk by an entourage of twenty maidservants in place of the usual screens, Miyo arrived at Takahaya’s pavilion. She hadn’t long to wait before the coarse-faced Hayato commander arrived to prostrate himself before her with an air of extreme discomfiture. Inside, the Messenger sat cross-legged on an improvised dais, waiting. Miyo sat beside him.

Takahaya’s country was far to the west. With no inkling of protocol in the palace at Yamatai and no conception concerning the proper way to host these two luminaries, he barked for someone to bring sake and sweets, and set them timidly before his two guests. He was so subservient it seemed pointless to talk to him.

“Why is he so ill at ease? Did something happen?” Miyo whispered to Kan.

“The Messenger caught a stray arrow with his bare hands before it struck him.”

So that was it. Takahaya must have been astounded. But knowing that actually made her task easier. Miyo shifted to face Kan directly. “The Messenger is pleased with this hospitality. Our host will do well to persevere.”

“Takahaya, the Queen speaks thus—” Kan began, parroting Miyo. Evidently heartened, Takahaya recovered his good spirits and offered words of thanks. Miyo began to feel favorably disposed toward this simple soldier. “It is said that a messenger from the Emishi is nearby. May he be brought here?” she asked. Kan repeated, Takahaya answered.

“Begging your pardon, but he said he would gut himself unless he saw the Queen, and we cannot send him away. We threatened to behead him, but he offered his neck and told us to do as we pleased. His spirit would return to settle the score.”

“Fear not, just bring him to me.” Miyo paused; she might have sounded a trifle insouciant. “Bind his eyes and limbs, that he may cause no trouble,” she added.

Soon the man was brought in, bound hand and foot and slung from a pole, like a boar ready for roasting.

“I am Himiko, Queen of Yamatai. What have you to say, Emishi?” As she spoke, Miyo noticed that the Messenger seemed depressed.

Even hanging from his pole, the Emishi’s reply was firm and resolute. “So you are the queen? Then hear the words of my king, who speaks thus: our realm is invaded by an army of mononoké. All is chaos. We beg you, oh queen, grant grain and meat to our families and kinsmen. Help us. If you do, we swear we will quell the mononoké and destroy them.”

“What?” Miyo was so astonished, she forgot to speak through Kan. “Mononoké—attacking Kunu?”

“They destroy the mountains, they destroy the rivers. They are
here
.” The Emishi spoke with the fearless resignation of one without a homeland to return to.

“Then those who overran the barrier were not attacking. They were fleeing,” said Miyo.

“Yes. We beg your forgiveness.”

The Messenger turned wordlessly to Miyo. She knew the reason for the despair in his eyes. She dismissed everyone so they could be alone.

“Do you not know where the mononoké are?” she asked.