Takeo's Chronicles, page 101
“So,” he started. “This is the place, huh? This is where it all started.”
“No,” Takeo replied, “but this was the point of no return.”
“Where did she cut your hair?” Gavin asked. “Over there? I’m guessing that’s where the gashadokuro broke through, judging by all the ripped up trees.”
Takeo could only nod. Though it had been many years ago, and Juatwa’s lush landscape was doing everything it could to reclaim the battle scene, remnants of that fateful day lay bare. Fallen trees did not decay so quickly.
“I’m sure you don’t want to hear this,” Gavin said, “but you’re actually lucky to know the place where you first fell in love with her. Yeira and me? Not so much. I could never know on which particular sandhill I decided I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. With the winds of Savara being what they are, that sand dune is probably gone by now.”
Takeo glanced around, the memory of that day coming back in glimpses. He remembered the haircut, he remembered the battle, and he remembered the giant skeleton. He did not remember her face. He couldn’t.
“Yes, lucky me,” Takeo whispered and then sighed. “Well, I suppose if he isn’t here yet, we can talk about something else. This is going to shock you, but I have something personal to talk about.”
“Really?” Gavin replied and raised an eyebrow. “Personal? You? Have something you’d like to talk about, with me? Wow. Dare I say, is it possible you’re experiencing”—he paused to look around and cupped his mouth in a mock whisper— “emotions?”
Takeo was not amused. “It’s about Yeira.”
Gavin groaned. “No, of course not. This isn’t about you at all, is it? It’s about me. Typical.”
“It’s about your child, Gavin,” Takeo countered, admittedly irked by his companion’s tone. “I really think you two shouldn’t have left her behind.”
Gavin just laughed, which Takeo suspected had more to do with shrugging off nervousness. Takeo didn’t see what was so funny, anyway.
“You’re such a character,” the knight said. “Anyone else, if they had something to say, would be a lot more tactful. They’d beat around the bush, make some insinuations, drop some subtle tones, you know? But you? Oh no, that’s not the Karaoshi way. Straight to the point with you, assuming you ever work up the courage to say something in the first place. I mean, Yeira and I left Pleiades several months ago, and you’re only now saying something?”
Takeo didn’t know how to reply. None of what Gavin said had addressed Takeo’s statement.
“I think my timing is irrelevant,” Takeo said.
“You would,” Gavin huffed.
Takeo stuttered, but then pressed on. “I didn’t say anything at first because I had assumed one of you, Yeira, would stay with the child.”
“Her name is Pleiades.”
“Pleiades, fine.” Takeo sighed. “I didn’t think both of you would abandon your child.”
“Damn, I swear orcs have more manners than you sometimes. We didn’t abandon her, Takeo. She’s with Lord Rithisak, a daimyo, or as I like to say, in better hands than I could ever provide. She’s quite literally living like royalty. We can visit her whenever we want.”
“Well, maybe you should visit her now. We’re about to go off to war, Gavin, against a rakshasa. Worse, we are led by a boy with only a single battle under his belt, flocked and coddled by dusty old advisors who think their superior blood can’t be spilt. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but is it necessary for both of Pleiades’ parents to risk their lives before she’s old enough to remember them? Do you want her to grow up like us?”
Takeo stopped his komainu’s pacing and dismounted, leading the animal over to its companion. Gavin clenched his jaw and looked into the cloudless sky. Only the trees rustled in the silence, granting the perfect illusion of sanctuary.
“It’s not that simple,” Gavin spoke up. “I gave Lady Zhenzhen my word I would fight for her. You know that.”
“But not Yeira,” Takeo replied. “She wasn’t part of the deal.”
“And what am I supposed to do about that?” Gavin asked, shrugging. “What do you want me to do? Force her to stay? Tell her that she isn’t allowed to fight because, what? She’s a woman, and women should be mothers? I rather like my balls right where they are, thank you very much. If you feel so strongly about this, why don’t you go talk to her, huh? As I recall, you two were chatting quite often when we first joined up with the Hanus. What happened?”
I chose you over her; that’s what happened.
“It’s not my place to say such things to her,” Takeo answered, selecting his words carefully. “I don’t know her like I know you. We have a rapport that allows the breach of such rules.”
Gavin smiled, shook his head, and then laughed. “Listen to you, talking about relationships as if they were a science. You couldn’t be more transparent if you tried. You know, I used to think that was a funny quirk of yours, but it’s gotten old. I’m done arguing. Can’t you trust me on this one, Takeo? Can’t you admit I know a thing or two about women, while you know next to nothing? You know nothing about being a father or a mother or the sacrifice we’re making, so really, you have no ground to stand on. Just drop it.”
Takeo locked his jaw as Gavin turned away. A sharp pain stabbed into his chest. Before the ride, he’d rehearsed many talking points and short speeches, but now he struggled to recall any of them.
This did not go like I had imagined.
Come to think of it, the past few months hadn’t gone anything like Takeo had expected. Ever since he’d left that ruined fortress, his life had been full of surprises.
First, he hadn’t foreseen becoming Gavin and Yeira’s de facto nanny. Pleiades Shaw—as Gavin had named her, and Yeira had voiced no objection—was an absolute terror of a child. She was supposed to be severely underdeveloped, having been born so prematurely, but that fact didn’t apply to her lungs or limbs at all. She screamed like a banshee day and night, and she kicked and struggled free of any wrap. She seemed in a constant rage, and not even food calmed her down. She drank angrily, whining, grunting, and shaking throughout. Even when she slept, she was prone to loud moans.
Miraculously, inexplicably, and annoyingly, the only thing that seemed to calm her frightful mood was Takeo’s touch, a thing quickly noted by all. Gavin wasn’t upset, thankfully—he was relieved that at least something worked—but Takeo could sense the anger and contempt in Yeira’s eyes every time he was brought up to put Pleiades to sleep. The gossiping servants didn’t help, spreading rumors that Pleiades’ paternal line wasn’t so clear cut. They completely ignored the fact that the child had somehow come out blond haired with hazel eyes, traits that would have never arisen were there any truth to the gossip.
Secondly, Takeo hadn’t expected Yeira to announce she’d leave the child or Lord Rithisak to volunteer to take the baby. Takeo refused to believe it until the jolly, fat lord had confirmed the news with a big grin on his face.
“Do you understand what you’re signing up for?” Takeo had asked him. “Haven’t you heard this child at night in the castle?”
“Oh, I’m sure my wife will be delighted to care for her,” Rithisak had exclaimed, unperturbed. “I think the girl just needs a change of scenery. I’ll take her back to my private property to be raised by my best. Worry not, my friend. I’ve been a father once before.”
He’d added a wink and a laugh that Takeo did not share.
Thirdly, Takeo had not expected to be sidelined. When Lady Zhenzhen had said that Takeo would assist Nobu in defeating Lord Pircha, he’d expected to receive essentially full command. Instead, when they’d set out from the castle to join up with what remained of the many-times-defeated Hanu army, Lord Nobu took with him a throng of advisors—old generals, ancient daimyos, and other groveling royalty—that fought for the young lord’s attention at every moment. Nobu was never alone now, and Takeo was starting to doubt that this army could defeat a rakshasa.
As for the fourth thing, well, he just so happened to arrive at the exact moment Takeo was thinking about him.
Through the southern breach, a soft rustle was heard, and Gavin and Takeo lifted their heads as a komainu, covered in full regal attire and heavy armor, stalked through the narrow gap at a meandering pace. The term heavy was relative, however, as it took more than a collection of metal plates to weigh down the strength of a komainu. On its back was mounted a human of equal dress, in that he was immediately noted as powerful, handsome, and ready for war. One got the impression that this man had never known defeat, which Takeo thought odd considering their last engagement.
“Lord Botan,” Takeo said, unable to stop himself from bowing.
“Karaoshi,” Lord Botan replied, curt but not unfriendly.
Gavin nodded to the lord, who stopped short.
All were still.
The trio of komainu sensed the hostility of their riders and began to snarl and growl at each other. They flexed, and the hairs on their backs rose to make them appear larger, but all were too well trained to go any further. Lord Botan’s mount followed the instructions of its master and paced into the center of the clearing. Between Takeo, Gavin, and Botan, a small triangle was formed. However, what caught Takeo’s eye—and his breath—was the slim, black object at Lord Botan’s side: a simple katana by any visual standard, yet unmistakably efficient and widely rumored to be the work of inhuman forces.
The rumors were true.
Takeo sighed.
“Good morning, Lord Botan,” Gavin said. “You seem well prepared this morning. I take it you were expecting a trap?”
“One can never be too careful when dealing with a ronin,” Lord Botan answered. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m alone either.”
“Oh please,” Takeo said, shaking his head. “You have my sword. What could we possibly do to you?”
Lord Botan smiled, full and warm with a heavy dose of confidence. He reached down and drew the blade, holding it upright in front of him. The glimmer of steel caught every eye. Jealousy ripped through Takeo’s heart.
“I knew you’d come,” Botan said. “You had to see for yourself, didn’t you? You had to know that it was me who had it.”
Takeo glared.
“This sword has already saved my life. Did you know that?” Lord Botan went on. “After my invasion went poorly, one of my relatives tried to have me assassinated. It was expected, of course. Nothing brings out the worst in a leader’s subjects like defeat. This attempt was better planned than I had imagined, though, and the ninja was almost successful. Were it not for this sword, I’d be dead. Imagine that.”
“What a pity,” Takeo replied. “Did you come to gloat? I thought you said you had an offer for me.”
“By the angels,” Gavin whispered. “This meeting was a mistake.”
Takeo gave no response. How could the knight say that? Did he not understand how hard he’d fought? How much he’d sacrificed? There was no mistake in coming here.
“I assume you’re not offering me the chance to switch sides again,” Takeo said.
Botan crinkled his nose as if he smelt something most foul.
“Not a chance,” he said. “You destroyed any notion of that several months ago. Were I a lesser man, I might kill you just to snuff out the grievous insult you dealt my reputation, but that’s nothing compared to the loss of my men.”
“You won’t though,” Takeo replied, never dropping his gaze with the lord. “You want me alive, at least for now, in the hopes that I might be ruthless enough to defeat the greater enemy.”
Lord Botan raised an eyebrow and drew in a deep breath.
“So that’s why you accepted this meeting so readily,” he whispered. “You knew I wouldn’t kill you, not while you were engaged with the rakshasa. I should have guessed you’d know that. You’re a smart man, Karaoshi.”
The shogun sheathed the enchanted sword, sliding the blade down into its treantwood case.
Takeo wondered if Botan even knew how special that sword was and just what Takeo had given up to make it so. Would Botan even care? Not likely.
“It makes sense,” Takeo replied. “You’re a smart man. You know that a rakshasa in command is a terrible thing, and he will not be defeated so easily. He’s already bested near all the Hanu generals. I am the only card left to play, and just like Lady Zhenzhen, you’re hoping I’ll be enough.”
Lord Botan frowned and tilted his head back and forth, amused.
“Close, close,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t much care which of you wins the coming battle, as either will be considered a victory for me. Once I’ve cleaned up the little civil war you started by blunting my attack, I’ll return to full strength. I shouldn’t have to kill more than half of my surviving family to get them back in line. It’s a tragic thing, but necessary, as you know. At least Anagarika is still on my side.”
Takeo and Botan were both aware they were playing a game as old as time. Juatwa had never been under the control of a single individual by any living person’s memory, and thusly a constant power struggle played out across the land. Whenever one daimyo grew too powerful and attacked another, a third and sometimes even a fourth would swoop in and take advantage of those involved. That one would then counter, only to take too long, and a former victim would return to strength and attack as well, and so on and so forth the vicious cycle would continue. A similar problem plagued Savara.
Essentially Takeo and Botan were in a race to avoid making the same mistake. Botan hoped to regain his strength and attack the Hanu keep whilst Takeo was engaged with the Nguyens. Takeo hoped to defeat Qadir fast enough to prevent that. Only time would tell which strategy prevailed.
“So what am I doing here?” Takeo said. “What’s this offer?”
“It’s less an offer and more of a trade,” Botan replied, shifting in his seat. His komainu whined, having dropped its hissing act against the other creatures. “You’ve become a man above his status, Karaoshi, and such a man inspires a fair bit of jealousy and fear, even from those he trusts. I’ll be blunt, as I know you prefer. Someone in your ranks wants you dead.”
Takeo couldn’t help but laugh, loudly.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“It’s someone close to you,” Lord Botan continued, unflinching. “Very close, that you trust, the way they describe it. I have a name.”
Takeo went still. On reflex, he glanced at Gavin, but there was no malice there. The knight was above suspicion. The two shared a look of apprehension, and Gavin’s face wore the bewilderment that Takeo felt.
“What? Who? How close?” Takeo asked. “And why would I trust you?”
Lord Botan scoffed. “Please, Karaoshi, don’t insult me. A man of my station is above lying. I wouldn’t fabricate such a thing. As for how I know, this individual reached out to me directly, seeking asylum in exchange for your life. As for who, well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
Takeo drew in a deep breath and held it. He’d seen this sort of exchange too many times before. In a land where ninjas and assassinations were a way of life, there was no shortage of coin and power to be made by trading over the right people to the right authorities. Most traitors took extreme caution in their plotting, knowing they were just as likely to be betrayed by their fellows as by their targets.
“What’s your price?” Takeo said, cutting to the point.
“The rakshasa,” Lord Botan replied, equally swift.
Gavin balked, even letting loose a muffled huff of shock. The knight’s folded arms fell away, and he glanced over to Takeo.
“Not a chance,” the knight said. “Emy’s one of us.”
Takeo held up a hand. “I wouldn’t go that far, but my friend is right. That’s too high a price.”
“Even in exchange for your life?” Botan said, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not dead yet,” Takeo replied. “Why would you even think to ask for her? You had to know I wouldn’t agree.”
Lord Botan shook his head and gave his komainu a jerk at the reins. The creature had been about to stretch out, a move that involved lowering its forelegs and raising its hind end, thus putting the rider in an incredibly awkward position. Most komainu were trained to resist the urge when a rider was on their back, but they sometimes forgot. Yet another reminder that beneath every komainu’s training was a wild beast just waiting for an excuse to let loose.
“Think of it as insurance against a common issue, Karaoshi,” Lord Botan said. “You and I want the same thing when it comes to rakshasas: the death of their line. The Nguyen brood might be ignorant enough to risk another Jabbar, but we Katsus know better. If you fall in the coming battle, if the Hanus bend to the Nguyens, then there’s no stopping those two beasts from mating. However, if you hand her over to me? Well, both of us can sleep peacefully at night—you more so, as you’ll know who among your friends carries the knife at your back.”
Takeo paused. He’d expected to scoff at whatever Lord Botan said, but his speech actually made a lot of sense. However, it still wasn’t enough.
“Not going to happen,” Takeo replied. “She stays with me, and you have nothing to worry about. If it comes to it, I’ll be sure she doesn’t fall into Qadir’s hands.”
Takeo’s arm hinged back, just enough for his fingers to grace his katana’s sheath. From across the clearing, Gavin narrowed his eyes and grimaced, but otherwise said nothing. Botan smirked.
“Are you sure you can fulfill that promise,” the shogun asked, touching the sword at his side, “now that you’re missing your most treasured possession?”
“I’ll find a way,” Takeo replied.
“Then I will sweeten the deal,” Botan said, drawing the Karaoshi family sword again, “or should I say incentivize?” He laid the blade down across the komainu’s back, and Takeo could see the beast rising to the heat. “This sword, as useful as it can be, is a threat to men like me. It gives any individual the sort of power only a daimyo should wield. It can give power to the wrong sort of man, is my point. Like your rakshasa, it’s a useful thing, but ultimately would serve humanity better if it were destroyed.”
