The Tengu's Game of Go (20 page)

“It's the riverbank people,” Hina said. “From the boats.”

“They have come to watch,” Take said beside her, his face riven with anxiety. “We are going to rescue him, Yoshi, the Emperor? We are going to be in time?”

“Yes, tomorrow we will rescue him,” Shikanoko promised.

Mu and Ibara found a spring, lit a small, smokeless fire, and boiled water. Ibara washed the mud from the horses' legs and Hina took her beechwood comb and untangled Tan's mane and tail, brushing them out with her fingers. Then she did the same for Nyorin. The horses, father and son, stood as still as carvings, nose to nose, only their nostrils quivering as they exchanged breath.

Take disappeared with Nagatomo and Eisei and returned with two squirrels and a rabbit. Hina drank a little warm water, but refused food. There was some shelter under a ledge of rock and Shikanoko suggested she rest there.

“What about you?” she said. His clothes were already dark with moisture.

“I will stay awake. I have not told the others, but I lost contact with the werehawks. I don't know where they are or if they ever got to Kitakami. I must make one last effort to find them.”

“Then I will stay awake with you.”

He bowed formally to her and went a little way away, under a spreading yew whose thickly leaved branches gave some protection. She saw him remove his sword and bow and place them beside him, speaking a few words to them, and then giving each one a light pat. Then he drew his legs up under him and closed his eyes.

She closed hers. She heard the others whispering for a while. A night bird made a sudden jarring call. In the distance dogs were barking. Gen whimpered in response.

Hina's mind was empty for a long time. Then a waking dream came over her. She was riding Tan across the river. Someone waited for her there. She had never seen him, but she knew it was Lord Aritomo. She saw his disease revealed, the rotting lungs, the decaying bones.

I have to take the medicine stone to him to show him he is dying.

She opened her eyes and looked at where Shikanoko sat. It was very dark. The fire had almost died down; only the embers gleamed. She thought he had put on the mask, thought she saw the outline of the antlers, but then she realized it was only shadows. There was a slight reflection from Gen's gemstone eyes.

Slowly the sky paled. While it was still the gray half-light just before dawn, Shikanoko stood and walked to her. Kneeling beside her, he said, “I saw you showing something to Lord Aritomo.”

“I saw it, too. It seems I must take the medicine stone to him.”

“What's that?”

“It's something your mother gave to me.”

“My mother? When did you meet my mother?”

Hina wanted to tell him everything, but there was no time. She was gripped by fear that there would never be time, that they would die that day, before they had really spoken to each other. All she said now was “She asked you to forgive her.”

“Is she still alive? Where is she?”

“She died, but she saw Takeyoshi before she passed away; we were both by her side.”

His mouth closed in a tight line. He seemed to hold his breath for a long time before letting it out in a deep sigh.

“You must give me a full account after everything is over,” he said, so distant again. “Let me see the stone.”

Hina drew it from the bag and held it out to him. He took it and looked curiously at it.

“It does not seem to be either precious or beautiful. Is it anything more than a rock?”

“If you are sick, it shows you if you will die or if you will recover,” Hina explained. “It helped me read the Kudzu Vine Treasure Store. It is a tool in diagnosis and healing.”

“Does it reveal the time of one's death?” he said, peering closely in to it.

“If that time is close, it does.”

“Well, I see nothing,” he said, laughing as his mood changed swiftly. “But I hope Aritomo will. We will ride side by side and show it to him.”

“I should go alone,” she said. “I will be able to approach him.”

“Lady Hina, I would obey you in everything, but not in this. I will be at your side.”

The light was strengthening. From across the river came the werehawk's frantic call. Tan neighed loudly in response. Shikanoko ran to the edge of the trees and looked down.

He called back to the others, “Aritomo has arrived! We can't wait any longer.”

Nagatomo was already preparing the horses. Shikanoko held out his hands. His bow flew into his right hand, his sword into his left.

“Thank you,” he said to the spirits. “Now behave yourselves, I am depending on you!” Smiling a little, he turned to Hina. “Are you ready, lady?”

Tan stood beside her, quivering with excitement. She put the stone back in the bag and tied it to her waist. Shikanoko lifted her onto Tan's back. The horse's coat was as smooth as silk beneath her fingers; the black mane she had combed out the night before fell over his neck like a woman's hair.

Shikanoko swung himself up onto Nyorin. “Wait out of sight,” he said to the others. “If we all appear at once, the guards will shoot as soon as we are within range.”

“And they won't shoot at you two?” Nagatomo said. “You are riding into certain death!”

“I am counting on Aritomo's curiosity,” Shikanoko replied. “If Heaven does not protect me now, then I'll know I faced its just punishment.”

“Let me go with you, Father,” Take begged.

Shikanoko looked at him with an expression of tenderness. “If I die,” he said to Nagatomo, “you and Eisei must escape with my son and serve him as you have served me. Go to the east, to Takauji.”

“We will, lord,” they promised, bowing their heads.

The temple gardens at Ryusonji spread around the lake, where the dragon's child slept, down to the riverbank. The walls had once run down to the water's edge, too, but now the water had receded so much there was a wide gap on either side. Guards, armed with spears, had been placed here to keep back the throng of people who had been gathering since the previous night, drawn by rumors and premonitions that they were going to witness the execution of an emperor.

It was misty, drizzling slightly, and the crowd was silent, with somber, expectant faces.

Aritomo himself, hollow-eyed and stern, sat on a platform hastily erected in the garden between the lake and the river. A ginkgo tree nearby was shedding its golden leaves, and maples glowed red. Butterbur flowers were a brilliant yellow around rocks and at the foot of stone lanterns. The paths among the moss were raked smooth. The temple bell tolled the hour of sunrise.

The two white horses emerged out of the mist, picking their way through the shallows, the splashing of their feet louder than the flow of the river. A guard broke away from the others and ran toward them, shouting at the riders to stay back.

Hina thought she heard voices whispering, “Shikanoko! It is Shikanoko!”

Aritomo rose to his feet. “Seize them! They will be executed along with the pretender.”

She took the medicine stone from her bag and held it aloft. “I have a gift for Lord Aritomo. It will reveal life and death to him.”

Her clear voice could be heard throughout the gardens. There was a murmur of surprise from the crowd. Aritomo, momentarily distracted, said, “Let her come to me.”

Shikanoko dismounted and walked forward, the two stallions following him closely.

Aritomo called, “Put down your weapons!”

Shikanoko took the sword from his sash and the bow from his shoulder and laid them down on the moss, along with his quiver. He lifted Hina from Tan and they both fell to their knees a few paces away from the platform.

Hina was aware that death might come at any moment, yet in that instant of vulnerability she felt no fear, only a sense of rightness, of being exactly where she was meant to be, in this early morning of the tenth month, in the hour of the hare.

Aritomo made a sign to one of his attendants, who stepped down from the platform and approached Hina. He reached out to take the stone, but she stood swiftly and said, “It is for Lord Aritomo's eyes only.”

The man looked back to Aritomo. The Minatogura lord, his curiosity piqued, said, “Let her bring it to me.”

Hina stepped onto the platform and held out the medicine stone. Aritomo looked at it warily, and then looked into her face.

“It will show you if you are to live or die,” she said. “Take it and look into it. If Heaven wills it, you will know how to prepare yourself.”

She saw the naked longing in his face, so intense it brought on a bout of coughing. As he struggled to get his breath, it was clear to Hina, even without the aid of the stone, that his illness was mortal. She watched him with calm compassion. He was a mighty lord, a general, a warrior, the most powerful man in the Eight Islands, but, like everything else, he was destined to die.

He took the stone in both hands and looked into it. His face took on an even more deathly hue.

“I am dying?” he whispered to her.

“The stone does not lie,” she replied.

His fingers gripped it with white knuckles as he stared at his own death. Then he lowered the stone and for a few moments sat speechless. She saw the struggle within him: part of him longed for peace so he might prepare himself for death, but his iron will would not allow him to deviate from the path he had set.

“It is a lie,” he cried. “I am not dying. I am immortal. I cannot die. But let Yoshimori look in it and see his imminent death!”

The stone in his hands gleamed as bright and dazzling as a mirror.

“Bring out the imposter!” Aritomo ordered. “I will see him dead and then deal with this witch and Shikanoko.”

Hina was seized, dragged off the platform, and thrown to the ground.

Guards appeared immediately, as though they had been nervously awaiting this command, Yoshi walking between them. He had been dressed in a robe of rough hemp cloth, a dirty brown color. His hands were bound behind his back, his feet were bare. Hina stared first at his face, in which she thought she saw both resignation and fear. His eyes glanced once around. She thought he saw her but could not be sure. Would he recognize Shikanoko?

He stared up at the mountains and the ragged white clouds that hung around them. His lips moved as if he were praying. A slight smile crossed his face. Following his gaze, Hina saw Kon circling overhead, screeching wildly. Yoshi lowered his eyes, and Hina looked at his feet. The long, flexible toes gripped the earth, as though at any moment they would launch him into an acrobatic show. But where were the others? Saru, the monkeys? Surely they were not all already dead?

Yoshi was forced to his knees. An even deeper hush fell over the spectators. Hina could not believe it was truly going to happen. She could not prevent herself from sitting up and looking around, seeking help.

Aritomo stepped down from the platform and went to Yoshimori. “Look into this,” he said, holding out the stone. “See that you are about to die!”

The Emperor of the Eight Islands looked at the stone, then looked at Aritomo, his face calm.

Light flashed from the stone. Aritomo dropped it as though it had become red hot and took a step back.

“Now!” he said. “Do it now!”

Hina heard the sigh of a sword being raised. A sob burst from her.

Kon swooped down, flew around the raised sword, and stabbed the executioner in the eye. Tan gave a fierce neigh like a human scream and charged at the man. He stumbled and rolled on the ground but kept a firm grip on the sword and, as the horse reared over him, thrust upward, deep into Tan's chest.

“Tan!” Hina screamed. “Father!”

She heard Aritomo shouting to his warriors. “Kill them all, horses and all. Don't let any of them escape.”

Blood was staining the white silken hair. Tan lowered his head, fell to his knees. Hardly knowing how she had got there, Hina found herself next to him, trying in vain to stanch the wound. The horse's body seemed to melt and fade and in its place stood her father, young and courageous, just as she had last seen him when she was a child. Kiyoyori held out his hand and the sword Jato flew to him from where it lay on the moss.

Shika called to Kodama, “Come here!” and the bow launched itself into the air, along with the arrows. As soon as he held them he shot twice rapidly at Aritomo. Both arrows found their mark, one in the neck, one in the chest, but the Minatogura lord was impervious to pain or fear. With raised sword he rushed at the kneeling Emperor.

“Lord Kiyoyori!” Shika shouted.

“I cannot die!” Aritomo cried. “Not one of you can kill me.”

“I am returned from the dead,” the warrior replied. “I can kill you. It is for this that I was called back by Shikanoko.” He let Jato move with its lightning speed to cut the sword from Aritomo's hand and with the returning stroke slash him from shoulder to hip, sending him to his knees. Aritomo struggled to his feet. Nothing was going to kill him. He stood for a long moment, even as his life's blood ebbed from him. Then with a cry of despair and disbelief, he fell heavily into the mud, quivered, and lay still.

Kiyoyori lowered the sword, went to Hina, and took her in his arms.

“Father,” Hina said again, with sorrow, for she knew he was about to leave her, this time forever.

“My work is done,” Kiyoyori said. “Don't weep for me, my brave daughter.”

He handed Jato back to Shika and said, “Thank you, Shikanoko. All debts between us are settled.”

Yoshi still knelt on the ground, Kon on his shoulder.

“Jato, we may need to fight now,” Shika said quietly, looking at Aritomo's men, who, shocked and enraged by the death of their lord, were gathering around them. “This is your true emperor,” he cried to them. “Lay down your weapons and surrender to him!”

When none of them obeyed, Kiyoyori called toward the lake. “Come, Tsumaru, my son! I am ready to join you!”