Find Me, page 5
“Hmm?”
“Why is it a mistake to go to Sunlit City?”
“I don’t know what you mean?” He blinked.
“Never you mind.” Ayame held out her hand and Hiro gave her his pipe. She set it aside. He didn’t need to be smoking anymore. “Is it true your father tried to assassinate the emperor?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know why?”
“Yeah.” Hiro rubbed his face, his breath steaming in the cold as he sighed. “He used to be part of a secret cult that worshiped Prince Hissing Blade as a deity. The prince made them rebel against the emperor. Then killed them all when they failed.”
“Why?” Ayame frowned.
“To hide his involvement.”
That was plain, but what she meant was, “Why did they think Hissing Blade was a deity?”
“Look, my father wasn’t in his right mind toward the end. He was delusional and claimed wild things. I think the prince affected the clarity of those who followed him.”
“That may be.” Ayame pondered. “But what did he used to say?”
“It all began some years back, a little after Hissing Blade lost his duel with Kyuzo-dono. The prince became ill. The bloody coughs, consumption, as we call it, ravaged his health. He wasted away for some moons and the palace physicians couldn’t help him. Then he went on a pilgrimage and returned with full health. He’s never been ill since. These things are well known.
“What his followers believed was that he died and resurrected. Savior of Nara, they used to proclaim him. In truth, he’s the demon of Sunlit City. My father claimed… Lady Ayame, you won’t say such things to my lord, right? I don’t want him to think I’m mad. It’s bad enough being a traitor’s son.”
“Whatever you say will stay between us.” She smiled to reassure him. “I’m not in the habit of telling tall tales, either.”
“Mmm.” Hiro nodded. “My father used to say that he watched Hissing Blade walk into a blazing fire, armor, sword and all. The prince had claimed that he’d return as an immortal. My father doubted him, but he did as he was told and tidied up after the fire and hid the evidence. He swore that he buried the prince’s charred bones in the mountains. But some days later, as he was praying in the temple, the prince returned in the mist.
“Savior of Nara, the immortal emperor who would bring peace to his people, ending the warring era once and for all… that was what he believed. Ten other lords believed the same, and they paid for it with their lives.
“They were muted and blinded, their hands cut off so they couldn’t speak or write a confession against the prince. Then Blue Dragon boiled them alive for treason. Some faith, right? Every Ryu is a villain, Lady Ayame, get that through your head.”
“Even you?” she asked.
“Even me. But my sin isn’t cruelty. It’s cowardice. I falsely testified against my father in court, naming him as the sole leader of the rebellion. I was afraid to die back then. But now I see that life without honor is worthless.”
“Blue Dragon never found out the prince’s involvement?” Ayame questioned. “That’s incredible,” or unbelievable, “considering the large number of people involved. I thought the rebels were in the thousands, no?”
“Yeah, Ayame, but who subdued the rebellion? Who interrogated the prisoners? Hissing Blade, right? His influence in Sunlit City has grown to outweigh Blue Dragon’s. The emperor likes women and wine, and while he rots away in the pleasure palace the prince schemes, schemes, and schemes. He does not sleep or eat, he’s an evil spirit. When he sits on the throne, it will be the end of Nara.”
“If he’s so powerful, why doesn’t he do away with the emperor himself?” Ayame whispered, barely audible. They were treading deep into conspiracy terrain.
A male servant was chopping firewood some yards away, and bujin were carrying things back and forth, perhaps readying for the journey tomorrow. Horses whinnied in the stable, but there was no one in earshot.
“All Ryu take a blood oath to always defend and never harm an emperor of a Ryu lineage. It’s compulsory when we turn five years old. For plain men like my father, it may be mere words that he could take back, but for those with mystical powers like Hissing Blade, it’s more than that. Magic of the Greater Gods binds his power to his oath. He can’t use it against the emperor. The rite is performed so there isn’t any infighting between the Ryu, but the prince bypasses it by poking the blue serpent with another’s hand so it’s never him who gets bit.
“Blue Dragon is a cruel bastard if you’re caught crossing him, his warlords too, including the one you’re so fond of.”
“He’s your lord too,” Ayame whispered. She got up and held out her hand. “Come on, Hiro. Let’s go inside. It’s cold outside. Get some rest and attend dinner. I hear there will be courtesans there.”
“Male?” He smiled, tilting his head back with his eyes closed.
“I’m sure you can find some. It’s Nara.”
“So it is.” He took her hand and staggered to get up. This bujin was too wasted to have made any sense, but the story of his father stayed with Ayame.
Without knowing, he’d claimed Hissing Blade had returned through the black torii. Although improbable, it wasn’t impossible, and as soon as she’d heard it, her curiosity about the prince ended—he was someone to keep clear of. The throne affair was not her business. She only cared about the well-being of one lord.
Monarch was outside Ayame’s door, which let her know Kyuzo-dono was still in her room.
“How do you keep your hair so nice?” she asked in the passing.
“Rice water, Priestess-san,” he said, flipping his long, luxurious locks.
“What?”
“The leftover water from cleaning rice, I use that to wash my hair.”
“Oh.” That was more trouble than it was worth. “Thank you.”
Ayame slid the door to the room and warmth flooded out into the corridor. Braziers were burning. Someone had tended to the fire and her lord was still asleep. Ayame shut the door behind herself and grinned, shedding off the burden of Hiro’s tale like a heavy winter cloak.
She crawled in next to him and amber eyes flew open for a moment before the tired lids lowered over them.
“You’re cold,” he said, pulling her to him.
“It’s cold outside.”
“Wretched Ryu. Why must we travel through winter?” he whined, but smiled, satisfied, when Ayame stroked his cheek, falling back to sleep again.
Still just a man, he was exhausted. Returning through the black torii hadn’t changed his mortality—that was good. It made Hissing Blade less frightening—he was just a man, too.
six
Sunlit City
Shin, Lord Isamu’s son, was a stern youth with furrowed brows and pursed lips, careful to not speak or do anything that might taint his father’s name. He and his two bujin rode with the Ishii because Satsuma had reached their allowed fifteen with Lord Isamu’s other sons, the ones from his official wife, taking almost half their numbers. But the way the bear-like lord rode back and forth between his men and the Ishii to check on Shin every other hour, Ayame thought the youth was his favorite and perhaps cradled too much. Another Sora, all lords had one, she supposed.
Ayame had been traveling at the back with Master Grey, but she nudged her mount up to catch Hiro some yards in front of her when they rode over a hill and Sunlit City came to view, all at once and magnanimous. Behind it was the endless ocean, shimmering blue as the golden sun dipped into it, setting with a red hue on the horizon. Metal spikes like needles left behind by the greater gods protruded out from the water, and Ayame didn’t need anyone to tell her they were meant to keep larger ships from approaching the shore.
A moat was dug around the entirety of the city. Wide like a great river, the water was the color of the ocean. The capital was vast, a terrain of rooftops, and the Palace of a Thousand Rays stood at the center. Taller than any castle Ayame had seen, it glittered in the light, shining like a second sun.
“Why is it doing that?” Ayame asked Hiro.
He twisted on his saddle to see her. Descending the hill through a well-traveled path, naked brown amidst the snow-covered hill, they were riding at a leisurely pace to let the Satsuma catch up.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Hiro remarked.
No. It was frightening Ayame. It felt evil. “Why does it shine?” she asked again.
“It has mirror panels that reflect light, hence the name, Palace of a Thousand Rays,” Hiro said.
“Glass mirrors?” Ayame gasped.
“Yes.” Hiro arched his brow as if she’d asked a stupid question.
“It’s a bad omen,” Ayame gritted through her teeth. It was Nara superstition to not possess glass mirrors. They believed Mistress Mirror could see through them, and it was true.
“For plain folks, sure,” Hiro said. “Don’t worry. It’s just theatrics. Because the plain bloods think mirror is a mystical item, the Ryu use it as a symbol of their divinity. That’s all. It’s just some glass. Like a vase, just different. Throw a rock at it and see how it shatters.”
“Please don’t throw rocks at the Ryu glass.” Lord Kyuzo, who was ahead by a few riders, looked back. His smile calmed Ayame. “Don’t get me in trouble with the emperor.”
The city was so grand that it had appeared closer than it was. It was nightfall by the time they were crossing the North Bridge across the moat. Canoes with lanterns passed by underneath the bridge, like a school of luminous fish, as the riders’ hooves knocked on the wooden boards. The structure was massive, and a row of unknown things awaited them on the other end. They looked like black bells laid on their sides, which couldn’t be right, so Ayame pointed at one and asked Hiro, “What are they?”
“Cannon,” Hiro said. “It’s a big gun.”
“Gun,” Ayame repeated. “What is that?”
Master Grey rode up on her other side, and explained, “The Ryu have black powder, incendiary magic, and they use it with metal weapons. Their foot soldiers have such weapons too, don’t they, Hiro? The akyubasu?”
“The arquebus, yes. It’s a smaller gun,” Hiro said.
“What does it do?” Ayame frowned.
“Kills from a distance like arrows,” Hiro said. “Goes right through armor and it’s fairly easy to use.”
Ayame didn’t like the city, the castle, or the strange weapons they had—which weren’t magical as Master Grey claimed. At the end of the bridge, she passed by one cannon and saw it was cold, dead iron.
The Ryu sentries wore straw hats and had straw chest armor over plain cotton robes. She would have pegged them for peasants but for the long metal tube they slung across their backs—that was the arquebus, according to Hiro. Master Grey bent from his horse, trying to touch one, and was yelled at by a sentry.
Wraith spoke to one of the guards, presenting him with the imperial scroll, while the other guards took head count. One passed by Lord Kyuzo too close, and the lord’s mount kicked the sentry, hurling him into the side railing. The bujin laughed, and the sentry didn’t care. There was no comradery among the Ryu, Ayame supposed. Perhaps they were conscripted peasants. They certainly weren’t of warrior caste.
“Ishii of Yukiyama,” a sentry called out, and another behind him scribbled on a parchment. “You will display your banner and wear your crest at all times once inside the city,” the sentry announced. “You may not draw your weapon and you may not ride through the city. Any bujin deviating from any imperial mandate will be arrested and may be executed. You will stay at your assigned quarters and may not approach the palace without explicit invitation.”
The self-important sentry flapped his hand, and his subordinate gave him a scroll. He opened it, glanced through it, then handed it to Wraith. “Ishii, Ikidomari street. Your allotted guest house will have your crest hung outside it. Can you find your way, or do you need an escort?”
Wraith shot a look at Hiro. Nudging his horse gently, Hiro rode up to Wraith and the sentry. “I know where Ikidomari is.”
“Good.” The sentry nodded. “Please dismount and leave your horses at the stables. Should you need them, there are rickshaws for hire. Welcome to the Sunlit City.”
His bow was rude, shallow and quick, then he motioned for the next clan to step up for inspection, which was the Satsuma, the roaring voice of their bear-like lord already expressing his displeasure. He wouldn’t fit in a rickshaw was his complaint, and as lord, he didn’t fancy walking alongside peasants, merchants, craftsmen, and beggars.
Ayame assumed the regulations must have changed since the rebellion because Kyuzo-dono was surprised about having to give up his horse as well.
The streets of the capital were much like those of Hoshinoya where Ayame used to stroll with Misaki and Emi but larger and more crowded, with buildings stacked atop each other. Aggressive vendors solicited the bujin, one elder woman even pulling from Sora’s sleeve. She was advertising a teahouse with a red lantern outside. Barking up the wrong tree that one, as the said teahouse only had singing girls sitting behind the open shutters and playing the shamisen.
They hired rickshaws for their luggage but opted for walking as the night was warm and bright with braziers burning in the streets and lanterns hung everywhere. An incredible sight at night, the streets were busy like the fish market in the afternoon, the time the boats returned with their fresh catch.
As they passed what appeared to be a trinket market, Puff found some interest in fox figurines. One had a paw that waved, rigged like the dipper of a bamboo fountain. After forgetting that she was in her lord’s company and shamelessly haggling, Ayame got the stupid statue for Puff. Thankfully, Kyuzo-dono found her bargaining skills amusing rather than offensive and smiled.
The Ishii had grown used to Puff appearing and disappearing, and the lord asked, “Miss your fox?” Puff was right there, but he chose to be a spirit. A good call in an unknown territory.
Master Grey vanished, and Ayame assumed the scoundrel priest couldn’t miss out on all the scams happening around every corner. At least two priests had approached Ayame, offering to expedite her reincarnation or better her fortune for a low, low donation to the temple. Even in priestess attire, she still looked like a sucker.
The civilians of the capital were brazen. They neither bowed to bujin nor did they step out of their way. A drunk bumped into Wraith and kept on walking. No apology. It probably had to do with the bujin being prohibited from drawing their blade, but they seemed to forget that one could still get punched in the face. Then again, tussling with a commoner was bad manners for a warrior.
After nearly two hours of walking, Hiro led them down a quieter alley where Ayame could actually hear her lord’s voice as he spoke with Lightning. The palace towering over the rooftops, a menace against the night sky, they traveled down a dim walkway with two-tier wooden buildings on both sides. Faint glow came from behind closed shutters and banners of various clans hung over each door. One had a five petaled black flower over red—Ishii.
Hiro went in to announce them and some servants rushed out to greet them—at least they bowed.
The two-story guest house was spacious inside, with a dining room downstairs that seated all the bujin. Lord Isamu’s son asked the attendant where the Satsuma was assigned to, but the old man tending to the fire didn’t know.
“We’ll find your father tomorrow, little one,” Badger said, and the boy grimaced, annoyed to be belittled.
After supper was served, the servants stowed away the table, swept the floor, and the men readied for the night, unrolling their mats next to each other in the dining room.
Ayame headed upstairs to where her lord was staying. Blatantly improper, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate for her to sleep among the bujin either.
When she was arranging her things in the room she’d be staying in, folding her robes and placing them into the closet whilst Puff lay on her mat, a soft knocking of the tongue sounded behind her. Ayame turned and Lord Kyuzo was at the door, his shoulder against the frame.
“Come to the bathhouse, Ayame. Your lord needs you.” He clicked his tongue again, studying her from the crown to the toe as if he’d seen her for the first time.
“Like what you see, my lord?”
“We’ll see.”
He walked away, and she didn’t need another invitation to follow.
The stone tiled floor ran underneath the rows of square wooden tubs like large boxes without the lid, and the heated water reservoir dripped into a pool that flowed from one tub into the other.
“What’s this one?” Ayame glided her hand down her lord’s naked chest, his skin smooth to her touch. They were in a bath together and he looked down to where her hand was.
“It’s a scar,” he said, then leaned back. The red jade ring nested in the hollow of his neck. He rarely took it off except to change the thread when he thought it was dirty.
Ayame took the ring on her palm and looked at the nonsensical symbol. She fixed the coiled thread, and the pendant dipped into the water, sitting lower about his sternum.
“I see that it’s a scar. How did you get it?” It was close to his heart and looked to be an arrow wound.
“I don’t remember. One battle or another, I suppose.” With his eyes closed, he sighed as Ayame trailed a finger down his slightly crooked nose. That one, she remembered. He said his father struck him.
“Why did your father hit you?” she asked.
“Which time?” A crooked smile appeared.
“The time he broke your nose.”
“I told him I was better than him.” Amber eyes opened, and he looked down at his shoulder. “That one,” he said about the burn on his clavicle. “We fought about Tamaki, and he seared me with a fire poker.”
“Your sister?” Ayame asked. “Over Blue Dragon?”
“Yes, about him giving away my sister as a concubine. I was so angry I nearly beat him to death. My mother had to interfere. He didn’t speak to me after that. Even on his deathbed, he wouldn’t see me.
