The Sword of Kaigen, page 55
“I’m sorry,” Misaki said quietly. “I didn’t know.” But why was he telling her this now? He seemed so tired. Surely, he had dredged up enough pain for one day.
“It was obvious when you married me that you didn’t want to be here,” Takeru said, “so I tried to keep a respectful distance from you. I was certain that if you spoke about your life before coming here and all you left behind, that we would fight.”
He was right. If Misaki had let herself dwell on Livingston and Robin, let herself speak about it, she would have fought him. But would that really have been such a bad thing? Would it have been worse than fifteen years of utter loneliness?
“I didn’t want things between us to be like they were between my parents,” Takeru said. “I didn’t want our sons to grow up as I did… not quite human.”
As Misaki looked at her husband in the lantern light, everything started to make sense. Takeru had never witnessed a marriage without violence. He had been trying to keep them from that the only way he knew how. With silence. In a twisted way, it all made sense.
“When you first miscarried, I was worried that you were heading toward the same fate as my mother. I thought that I was killing you.”
“But you didn’t,” Misaki said, at once touched and confused by the idea that Takeru would blame himself for the weakness of her body. “That was my failure, not yours.”
“Not a failure,” Takeru said. “You’re still alive.”
“I...” Misaki blinked. “I lost your children.”
“As I explained, that is common among Matsuda wives. It is less common for a woman to miscarry even once and survive. You must have been protected by the Gods… or perhaps by the blood magic that gives your family such strength. Perhaps your subconscious blood manipulation purged your dangerous offspring before the pregnancy could kill you both.”
“You think I killed your children,” Misaki said, “like your father always said.”
“I think you saved my wife,” Takeru said. “Your Tsusano blood helped you survive where my mother could not. In that way, I suppose, our fathers made us a good match.”
Misaki breathed out with a twisted smile. “That’s a bit morbid, Takeru-sama.”
Takeru didn’t return the smile. He was still wearing the pained, repentant expression that was so new to Misaki, so hard to look at, even if it was long overdue.
“I knew you were in pain after losing those children,” he said, “the way my mother was in pain before she died. But I admit, to my shame, that I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t...”
“You’re speaking to me,” Misaki said. “All I wanted then was for you to speak to me, so I wouldn’t be alone.”
Takeru shook his head. “I thought that if I tried to put myself close to you, you would push me away. I thought that if I spoke to you, it would turn into a fight.”
“But there are worse things than fighting,” Misaki said. “I like a bit of fighting. It’s silence I can’t stand.”
“Then I am the worst husband in Kaigen.”
“No...” Misaki said softly, “I could have broken the silence too.” She just hadn’t had the courage.
So much of her anger had spawned from Takeru treating her like a doll, but she hadn’t been much better. She had treated him like a human-shaped mass of ice without considering that there might be entirely human reasons that ice had formed.
“I’m sorry I left you in silence all this time,” Takeru said. “I don’t know if I understand it... but I am glad we fought today.”
Misaki nodded. “Me too.”
Men like Matsuda Takeru the First existed only in legends, because of course, there were no real men who could end the troubles of a kingdom with a stroke of the sword. Misaki and Takeru’s fight hadn’t magically imbued them with love and understanding. It didn’t heal the pain of Mamoru’s absence. But it was something, like the beginnings of a scab. It was the first sign that things could get better.
When Misaki and Takeru lay down on their futon together, a wave of their cold extinguished the flame in the lantern, leaving only the gray-blue mix of moonlight and shadows. The darkness didn’t threaten nightmares now that Misaki was no longer alone in it. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world when Takeru moved to touch her—then he paused.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“You hate it when I touch you,” he said—not an accusation but a simple fact. “You’ve always hated it.”
Misaki didn’t try to deny it.
She didn’t know if she could make herself like his touch, but she leaned in and brushed her cheek against his fingers. Then she reached out and held him. Cold. But what did that matter? So was she. Nestling closer, she rested her head on his shoulder. He would never have that hot spark that set her desire to a boil, but when she closed her eyes, no nightmares came.
In her husband’s embrace, wrapped in the sound of his steady breathing, she slept soundly for the first time in a month.
Chapter 29: The Apprentice
The next week, Colonel Song was back, this time accompanied by his superiors, Shirojima’s provincial governor, and representatives from the Yammanka military. Song’s idiot translator, Chou Kyung-tek, was there to introduce all of them in clumsy Shirojima Dialect.
“I present to you General Chun Chang-ho, Lieutenant Bek Jin-kyu, and your Prefectural Governor Lo Dong-soo. I believe you have already met Colonel Song Byung-woo.”
Takeru bowed politely to each of the men.
“I also ask you to please welcome the representatives of our Yammanka allies, General Burema Kende, Lieutenant General Lansana Wagadu, and their translator and counselor, Jali Seydu Tirama.” There was a second jaseli with the Yammankalu, younger than the first, wearing simpler robes. Misaki could only guess that he was the real jaseli’s apprentice—a fairly new apprentice, judging by his age and nervousness—but he didn’t get an introduction.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Takeru spoke to the Yammankalu in Kaigengua, and Jali Tirama translated his words smoothly to Yammaninke. “Thank you for being here.” Then, in Yammanka fashion, Takeru reached out and took General Kende’s hand in his.
Misaki had gone over the tajaka greeting gesture with Takeru, convincing him to practice with her until it started to feel natural. The practice was only partially to make Takeru appear better informed before the foreign visitors. More than anything, Misaki wanted the Yammankalu to feel who they were dealing with. It worked. She noted subtle expressions of surprise on the tajakalu’s faces as their fingers touched Takeru’s and their lips touched his knuckles. Takeru was colder and palpably more powerful than the representatives of the Emperor, and Yammankalu, if nothing else, respected power.
“You will, of course, quarter us in your house, Matsuda,” General Chun said.
“Yes,” Takeru said stiffly. “Of course.”
Fantastic, Misaki thought. With each of the important officials put up in their own room, there would not actually be space in the half-destroyed Matsuda compound for the Matsudas themselves. Misaki and Setsuko would, of course, be expected to be available to serve tea and food that they couldn’t actually afford to give up, but the family would have to find a different place to sleep.
“Did you have something to add, Manga—I mean— Koroyaa?” the younger jaseli asked.
Koroyaa. Misaki blinked in surprise as she realized the question had been directed at her. It was a respectful address for a female member of the warrior class. The out-of-place question spoke of the jaseli’s innocence; in Yamma, a married man and woman were equals, managing all important affairs together. This must have been his first time in Kaigen if the gender dynamics made him so uncomfortable.
Not only that, he had very nearly called Misaki Manga Koroyaa—a title for a woman of a ruling clan. In another country, a noble family like the Matsudas would have held manga koro status, but in Kaigen, the only official manga koro family was the Imperial house. Kaigen wasn’t like Yamma, where many powerful families were allowed to flex their strength and vie for the throne if they wished. The Emperor of Kaigen didn’t want any line other than his own claiming the inherent right to rule over any piece of his Empire, however small.
“Oh, don’t mind me, Jalike,” Misaki returned, equally respectful. “I’m only here to support my husband.”
It was demeaning, but Misaki found herself smiling. She had learned from her days spying that an inexperienced jaseli was like a poorly guarded treasury. Only the thing jaseliwu guarded was far more valuable than money; it was information.
“Setsuko, I need to ask a favor,” Misaki said once the military officials and their translators were comfortably settled in the Matsuda compound.
“Sure thing.”
“I need you to play hostess for a while in my stead.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just on a little adventure,” Misaki said, cracking her neck. “Going to see if I’m as smart as I used to think I was.”
“Shall I get my niece?” It was what Setsuko had started calling Siradenyaa, since Misaki had explained the little sword’s origins and the name ‘Shadow’s Daughter.’
“No,” Misaki laughed, “but I am going to take this nephew of yours.” She lifted Izumo out of his drawer—they were going to have to relinquish this room to their guests anyway—and bundled him into a sling.
“On an adventure?” Setsuko said, looking curious.
“He’s cuter than I am,” Misaki said, “makes me seem sympathetic and unthreatening. Isn’t that right, little buddy?” She tapped Izumo on the nose.
“What—”
“I’ll tell you how it goes when I get back... if there’s anything to tell. Hopefully, there will be a lot.”
Misaki waited in the shadows behind Hyori’s shack, out of sight of the footpath through the village. Apprentices almost always got sent out on errands for their masters. The young jaseli was sure to emerge eventually, alone, and she would have her chance.
When she heard his shuffling footsteps and his teeth chattering in the perfectly pleasant spring air, she stepped out from behind the shack and ‘accidentally’ ran into him.
“Oh,” the boy said in surprise. Then, hilariously, he tried to speak Kaigengua: “I... the truth of it is... I was making the way of... of walking in the direction of the place for to speak with one’s lover—”
“I nyuman, Jaliden,” Misaki said, trying hard not to laugh. “N’ye Yammaninke muku.”
“Oh.” The jaseli’s shoulders relaxed in relief. “I forgot you could speak my language. As I was saying—or trying to—I was just on my way to deliver this message to your husband.” He pulled a piece of kayiri from the front of his robe.
“My husband is busy right now,” Misaki said, “but I would be happy to deliver it for you.”
“Oh...” the boy hesitated and then handed her the letter. “Alright. Thank you.”
“It’s no trouble. And I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name, jaseli.”
“Oh—sorry, Koroyaa. I’m Moriba Gesseke.”
Gesseke. The boy was from a prestigious family. That was probably how he had secured an apprenticeship with such a skilled jaseli despite his lack of wit and charm. If he stumbled over his words this much back home in Yamma, his clan might have deliberately sent him to apprentice overseas to avoid embarrassment. Misaki would have placed him in his late teens or early twenties, the right age to be taking on his first serious apprenticeship.
“I’m actually very glad you’re here,” Misaki said. “I was going to ask your master about a few things, but since you’re a Gesseke and you seem very competent, I wonder if you can help me.”
“I can try, Koroyaa,” the boy said, clearly flattered. “What is it?”
“It’s just that, I’ve gotten some conflicting information from the Kaigenese soldiers I’ve spoken to. I wondered if you could offer me some clarity, from your uniquely informed position.”
“Oh—um...” Gesseke looked apprehensive. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Really?” Misaki put on a crestfallen face. “I just thought that, as the apprentice to the Yammankalu’s main jaseli here, you might know what actually happened to this village.”
“I do, Koroyaa. I’m just not sure if I can tell you. Not without permission from my superiors.”
“You need permission from your superiors to help a grieving woman put her doubts to rest?”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to know. I’m just not sure your Empire would want me to... I can’t risk it.”
“You can’t risk it?” Misaki said with a calculated tremor of incredulous fear.
“Sorry?”
“I have a family, jaseli,” Misaki let her voice shake, sounding vulnerable. Not out of control. Just vulnerable enough. “A little baby. You think I want to get them all killed?”
“I... that’s not what I was trying to insinuate—”
“If you are worried about displeasing the Kaigenese Empire, I’m not someone you need to fear. All I want is to keep my family safe. And here in Kaigen, safe means being in line with the Empire’s plan. You don’t seem to understand; the only way I can do that is if I know the whole story.”
“I don’t know, Koroyaa...”
“If you never want me to repeat what you tell me to anyone, I won’t. I just need to know.”
“But...”
“You belong to a great line of wordsmiths, Moriba Gesseke,” Misaki said, deciding to try out a jaseli tactic herself, “singers and confidants to kings and queens.” The Daybreak jaseliwu always said a man was more malleable when his head was swelled with praise. “For generations, members of your family have aided the Yammanka elite, cooling their anger, stoking their strength, guiding them through so many times of trouble. You, of all people, would understand how important it is for a leader to have good counsel.”
“Yes,” Gesseke agreed, though he looked confused.
“You understand the danger of a powerful koro without a loyal confidant to rein him in.”
“Of course.”
“Well, this village has no jaseliwu,” Misaki pressed toward the point before the young man could get too lost. “Our only jaseliwu were the Hibikis, and their entire family was wiped out in the attack. My husband has no advisors. He just has me. Surely you felt the nyama coming off my husband. His temper is not to be underestimated.”
“Koro Matsuda, are you threatening me?”
“No.” Misaki let herself sound scandalized and hurt. “Never, jaseli! I am... imploring you. If my husband can’t put his rage to rest, if he lashes out, my whole family will be in danger. Please. Help me save my family.”
The boy looked torn.
“My husband is a great man, but he is also a traditional one. He can’t negotiate between Kaigenese, Yammanka, and Ranganese culture and ideas the way that I can. Now, I can keep him working in line with your superiors’ plans, but in order to do that, I need to know what those plans are. I need to understand what is really going on.”
Gesseke still seemed uncertain. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to talk about these things with the locals...”
Misaki was surprised that he hadn’t been explicitly told not to reveal secrets to the people of Takayubi until she realized that they were probably not expecting anyone in Takayubi to speak proficient enough Yammaninke to communicate with him.
“I understand,” she said quickly, “but believe me, I don’t intend to misuse your knowledge. I swear it.” She adopted a solemn tone. “Jali Gesseke, I swear on the Falleke that I will never repeat a word of this to anyone.” Over ninety percent of Duna’s population worshipped the Falleke. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t occur to this Yammanka-born jaseli that Misaki might not be one of them. He glanced around and then motioned her out of the open. Safely behind Hyori’s shack, he met Misaki’s eyes.
“You mustn’t tell my jakama I spoke so openly to you.”
“Of course,” Misaki assured him. “I would never meddle between jaseliwu.”
“As I’m sure you have noticed from this attack, the Ranganese military has made great strides since the Keleba in terms of their troops’ training.”
“We did notice.”
“Despite that, Ranga is still a relatively young power on the world stage. They still have the goal of eventually engaging Kaigen in another war and destroying the Empire completely, but they don’t have a lot of confidence in their military. Our Ranganese spies have determined that these attacks were a sort of test.”
“A test?” Misaki asked, feeling sick.
“You seem like a smart woman; I’m sure you’ve noted the commonality between all the areas Ranga attacked?”
Misaki nodded. “They’re the old fighting powers, the places where the Ranganese suffered the heaviest casualties during the Keleba.”
Gesseke nodded. “What happened to your village and the other targeted areas was an experiment, to see if Ranga had become powerful enough to declare open war on Kaigen.”
“And what did they find?” Misaki’s stomach knotted in dread and she clutched Izumo close. If Kaigen had to fight another war, then they were all dead. She understood that now with a cold certainty she had never been able to accept before. There would be no running away. She had married onto Kaigen’s blade edge and made her family here. “Is there going to be war, jaseli?”
“No, but it was a close thing, Koro Matsuda. The Ranganese tested their strength on eight targets in total.”
“Eight?” Misaki said in surprise. There had only been news of storms in Heibando, Yongseom, and Ishihama before Takayubi was attacked.
“Four great houses and four military strongholds,” Gesseke said.
