Takeo's Chronicles, page 105
“And why would you look all over?” Takeo asked with a smile. “Didn’t you think to ask someone where I was, like Nicholas?”
Krunk contorted his face, increasing his hideousness tenfold. “That viking knows nothing. All he wants is to fight Krunk, and he’s bad at it.”
Emy laughed and walked up to her surrogate father, wiping the drool from his face with the clean side of her sleeve.
“You’re silly, Father,” she said. “Don’t you see? That’s why Nicholas wants to wrestle with you in the first place. He needs your help to get better.”
She paused as Krunk’s face showed the signs of slow understanding. Krunk grinned.
“Krunk does help, doesn’t he?” the ogre said.
“Of course you do,” Emy replied and touched a hand to Krunk’s cheek. “Now, why have you been looking for Takeo all over?”
“Krunk was given a message.” The ogre beamed, but then was overcome with a sudden look of dread.
“Let me guess,” Takeo said. “You forgot?”
Krunk dropped his head.
The samurai and rakshasa frowned, but neither was surprised. Krunk’s mental capacity had been taking a rapid turn for the worst in recent times, declining far faster than any had expected. Their only ogre expert, Gavin, was more shocked than most.
“I mean, it’s not like the Knights’ Order was a scholars’ club or anything,” Gavin had said once during their conversations on the topic. “We didn’t study ogre longevity, but over time we got used to seeing their norms. Physically, they grow like weeds, but it takes a good decade or so for them to reach full mental capacity. We just always assumed it was the same pace on the way out. Krunk though, I don’t know. Maybe an ogre’s mind isn’t like a human’s. Maybe it’s like an oil lamp with only so much fuel to burn. And let’s be honest, Krunk has been burning bright for some time. He’s running out.”
A worrying thought, to be sure, especially for Gavin and Emy, who loved Krunk like family. It was worrying to Takeo, too, but if he was pressed for honesty, not every concern of his was for Krunk’s safety. Krunk was still as strong as ever, and it worried Takeo at times the way Krunk didn’t notice people and bumped into them, sending them flying, or how Krunk sometimes forgot that he and Nicholas were only pretending to fight, or how Krunk would grab things he liked, whether they were his or not. It was agreed by all that Krunk shouldn’t be left alone anymore, though sometimes it happened.
“It’s okay, Krunk,” Takeo asked. “A better question is who asked you to be a messenger?”
Emy stiffened, the same realization striking her.
“Father,” Emy said. “Who gave you this message?”
Krunk shrugged.
“Someone looking for secrecy,” Takeo said. “What did this person look like?”
Krunk shrugged again. “Old lady. Krunk doesn’t remember.”
“An old lady?” Emy repeated, raising one eyebrow. “In an army camp?”
Takeo was momentarily perplexed, as well, until he realized there was only one old lady he knew with a reputation for visiting Hanu battlefields just before a battle.
“Where is she, Krunk?” Takeo asked.
Krunk pointed off into the distance, which was good enough for Takeo at this point. He knew his target wouldn’t be hard to find and glanced at the sun. He had a short time before his appointment with Lord Nobu if he rushed.
“Who is it?” Emy asked.
“Lord Nobu’s grandmother, the Lady Ki, I’d bet,” Takeo replied. “I’m almost certain of it. This can’t be good. Stay here and keep watch over Krunk. If you see Gavin, tell him I need to speak with him.”
“About what?”
“I’ll know after I see her,” he replied and marched off.
Takeo set an admirable pace, just above a comfortable walking speed, enough that his feet ate up the distance, but not so fast that he drew any more attention than his presence already did. His hand itched for his sword, and he let his forearm brush against the handle for comfort. It wasn’t his sword, of course, not his family’s sword, so the touch didn’t send a rush of heat and energy through his body, but there was something comforting in being armed.
At times, rare and distant times, Takeo fantasized about a world where he didn’t feel the need to be armed. He imagined it as the world he aimed to create: one without wars or slavery, without bandits or mercenaries. It would be a world where the rule of law protected people, even from themselves. The angels had done as much with the city of Lucifan, but they’d aimed too small in Takeo’s mind. They should have planned for bigger, aimed for more. They should have saved the many, instead of the few.
That’s what Emily would have wanted.
Deep in thought, Takeo almost ran headlong into Yeira as she rounded the nearest corner. It was an inexplicable chance, considering the lengths the two went to avoid each other, and they stopped mere inches away, then recoiled with equal vehemence. Their hearts recognized each other before their minds could catch up.
Yeira was perhaps easier to recognize than Takeo, being that she was a woman of unparalleled beauty. Her dark hair fell in waves to frame a face with strong cheekbones, soft eyes, and lips that beckoned for a kiss. She was no different the further down one went, with a body that curved with a sensual grace and played mad the minds of the lustful. Wherever she went, she drew eyes, as well as lewd comments from drunks with more confidence than sense. All this despite giving birth not too long ago, and Takeo had to admit that was impressive. He’d heard stories of what pregnancy could do to a woman’s body, but Gavin’s wife appeared unaffected.
Physically, at least.
“Takeo,” she said. There was no kindness in her tone.
“Yeira,” he replied.
“Where is Gavin?”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re speaking to me,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t know. I would have thought he was with you.”
“He never returned after you two went romping off into the woods.”
“Well, that’s a real shame,” Takeo said in a tone that gave no such indication. “If I see him, I’ll be sure to mention that you’re looking for him.”
Takeo went to sidestep her but Yeira matched his stride, cutting him off. He stopped.
“Yeira, I don’t mean to be rude, but I must be going,” Takeo said carefully. “And I know you don’t want to prolong this any more than I do.”
She leaned in and whispered, “If I find you’re covering for him, know that you aren’t doing him any favors.”
“Noted,” he replied, matching her tone.
He did sidestep her this time and then took up his former pace. As he faded away into the crowd, he could feel Yeira’s dark gaze burning holes into the back of his head.
Ah yes, now I remember. Problem number ten, my best friend’s wife hates me with the passion of a thousand suns.
Takeo was used to being hated as he’d been despised by most people throughout his life. However, most hated him for things that he either didn’t understand or were entirely out of his control. They hated him for being a ronin or for being a skilled enemy soldier or for being an upstart with no royal blood. Relatively few hated Takeo for what he would call “legitimate reasons,” or specifically, things he’d personally done to them. Yeira, however? Well, Takeo knew he deserved that one. Yeira had trusted Takeo once, and only once, to choose her happiness over Gavin’s. The result was Pleiades, and things had been different ever since.
But Takeo couldn’t concern himself with that right now. As far as he was concerned, Yeira was Gavin’s baggage, her well-being included. It was neither important nor necessary for Takeo to be in her good graces, so long as she didn’t interfere with his ability to keep them all safe.
Would she be the one to betray me? Surely she’s suspect, and yet I can’t be certain. Her desire for revenge would have to outweigh her sense of reason. Her life, Gavin’s, and her daughter’s hang by the threads of my own. If I die, her death would not be far behind. Still, I will watch her. I must watch everyone.
Takeo wasn’t used to questioning people’s loyalty. He usually trusted no one.
This whole concept of friendship is baffling. How do people deal with it all their lives? I never realized what my brother was sparing me from with a childhood spent in isolation.
And as he thought this, so did Takeo arrive at one of Lord Nobu’s private—the term used loosely here—tents.
As the shogun’s one and only child, Lord Nobu wanted for nothing in the material sense. His mother made certain that Nobu never went anywhere, including to war, without a full stock of all the essentials, which included a dedicated bathing station accompanied by a well-stocked wardrobe and a plethora of reading material paired with a full contingent of kitchen staff, skilled bards and storytellers, dutiful accountants, and even one or two sultry women who’d been verified clean of all unsavory diseases. Adding to this, most of the daimyo attempting to ride Nobu’s coattails had brought a hefty number of personal servants, which had the effect of creating two camps: one for the royalty and one for the soldiers. That was to say, Nobu’s section was easy to find.
However, Takeo didn’t blame any of this excess on the young lord. Takeo understood that the prince had little say in it, and if rumors were true, he didn’t use half the pleasurable things at his disposal, the women included. As for the things he did use, he was almost apologetic about it, over complimenting the chefs on his meals, the servants on their handling of his wares, and the bards on their musical talent, whether deserved or not.
Some thought this was endearing. Takeo found it pathetic. All found it exploitable.
As for how Takeo knew that Lord Nobu was in this particular tent? There were two large, imposing oni standing guard outside the entrance. Tokhta and his not-so-chatty colleague had apparently replaced Nobu’s normal bodyguards. Takeo did notice, however, that a mass of people was gathered outside the tent, though at a healthy distance from the oni. It was a measured separation, roughly double the length of one of the oni’s massive kanabo clubs, which were resting quietly on the ground. Made up of lords, ladies, and their ever-present servants, they seemed like a displaced dinner party. The group was chatting amongst themselves, or perhaps arguing, while darting eyes at the oni and talking in whispered tones. Takeo noted an air of hostility as he approached, though neither oni seemed to care.
Hm, has Nobu sent his entourage away? No, not possible. Lady Ki must be here, and she must have done it for him.
As Takeo approached, the crowd went quiet, and all eyes fell on him. Takeo made eye contact only with Tokhta, if briefly. The oni didn’t stir other than to drop its head. Takeo went to slip inside, but paused. The oni hadn’t asked him to surrender his weapon, as any human guard surely would. Could this be a trap? Takeo had almost been killed by an oni before, why not now?
“Hey!” someone yelled from the crowd. “Oni! Wake up. He’s about to go inside!”
Tokhta didn’t move other than to suck in a wad of snot. Takeo decided to take his chances and headed in. Several disapproving scoffs followed him from behind. He heard many shuffle, as if to follow him, but when one of the oni snarled, the shuffling stopped and the shouting started up again.
As Takeo’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noted that this tent was designed for the singular purpose of inviting guests. The design was that evident, and Takeo was coming to realize that Lady Zhenzhen had a keen eye for appearances and wanted her son’s superiority to be unquestionable.
Lord Nobu lounged in an elegantly carved, wooden throne, which sat on a raised platform, so the young lord was elevated even while sitting. Low lamps flanked him, as did large Hanu banners and fully stocked racks of weapons of symbolic use—that is to say, they were richly designed with gemstones and engravings. The whole tent was a vibrant red, deep and rich with sets of gold and silver trinkets strewn about with supposedly careless thought, though Takeo knew better. Lady Zhenzhen was a dedicated collector of shiny objects, and he knew from his time in her bedchamber that she had an entire crew of servants whose only job was to place and adjust her countless antiques in such a way that her wealth was displayed with equal parts prominence and carelessness—a difficult task, to be sure.
Neither did Nobu himself disappoint. Not that he could, unless he went naked. Takeo hadn’t seen the lord’s wardrobe, but judging by what he regularly wore, Lady Zhenzhen hadn’t sent the prince off with a single piece of clothing that wasn’t embroidered with some sort of rare, gleaming metal.
Lord Nobu wore a stunning kimono, glistening in the low light with golden edges and blood red colors, embroidered over with detailed designs that told the story of a famous Hanu battle. Nobu’s feet were wrapped in silk shoes, his shoulders were weighed down with a heavy cloak despite the warmth of the day, and his face was finely groomed, with every strand of hair bound firmly to a topknot. Lord Nobu could have been off to a royal party instead of meeting with a ronin.
Given Nobu’s attire, Takeo wondered why he’d bothered to change clothes at all.
And yet one would think them equals the way Lord Nobu drew in his shoulders, deflected his gaze, and pressed his knees together like a shy maiden being judged for a dowry price. The prince looked often to his right at the old and equally well-dressed woman who stood with as much spine as Takeo.
Like the Lady Zhenzhen, the Lady Ki Hanu was only a Hanu by marriage. She was a Zhao by blood, and rumors abounded that her loyalties were strongest there. She wore heavy amounts of makeup with plenty of white powder, and her lips were forever pursed into a pout. One got the sense that she was in a constant state of disapproval, though Takeo suspected that was not Lady Ki’s intention, despite her tendency to speak sharply and honestly. Her candid bite was rumored to have both enticed and infuriated Lord Nobu’s grandfather, and Takeo could only assume this was true because he couldn’t imagine anyone marrying her otherwise.
Takeo raised an eyebrow when he realized there was no one else inside the tent. He scanned quickly to see if there were any places for assassins to hide, but upon seeing none, bowed deeply.
“My lord and lady,” Takeo said. “I believe you sent for me.”
“I figured you’d get the message,” Lady Ki replied, “but you’re late.”
“Such is the outcome of using a forgetful ogre as a messenger,” Takeo replied.
He rose up, although he hadn’t been given express permission to do so. A bold statement, one would say, but Takeo wasn’t taking a risk here. Lord Nobu was too self-conscious to take note, and the Lady Ki thought too little of Takeo to expect any different. As Lady Zhenzhen’s personal bed toy, he held more sway in the Hanu kingdom than she did.
He wondered if Lord Nobu knew about that yet. He hoped not.
“My lady,” Takeo said, “I don’t mean to be so forward, but the battlefield is no place for a woman of your years.”
Ki smirked, showing off a smile that had long lost its shine.
“I appreciate your concern, Karaoshi, but I don’t see any battlefield. If there were, half those lot out there would have run for the hills, the beggars. Besides, although I haven’t killed as many as you, I’m no stranger to war. I’ll be fine.”
“You say that, but this is no normal battle,” he countered. “Those daimyo out there, I have no concern for, but you are Lord Nobu’s grandmother. Against a rakshasa, nothing can be certain.”
Lady Ki didn’t argue this time. She turned to her grandson, who gave her a nervous glance as if he were a child awaiting punishment.
“He’s here,” she said to Nobu. “You may leave now. Take the crowd with you.”
“Thank you, Grandmother,” he said.
Nobu bowed his head and leapt from his chair. He made a straight line for the tent’s exit, and Takeo nimbly stepped out of the way, though Nobu turned his shoulders as he passed as if to make room in kind. Takeo had to bite his tongue not to say anything. He thought to demand a private audience here and now, but he knew Lady Ki would never leave. Besides, Takeo had his time coming soon and so held his tongue. He still had his signed letter.
And then Nobu was gone, and a moment later, the sound of heavy oni footsteps were pounding off into the distance. The shouting voices faded with them.
“So,” Takeo said, turning back to Lady Ki. “I guess I’m supposed to believe it’s just you and me now?”
“I sure hope so. I may be a dead woman otherwise,” she replied. “I apologize for all the secrecy, Takeo, but this is the only place I can hope for privacy now. I couldn’t risk a letter. Zhenzhen watches me like a prison warden in that dirty old keep. There was an attempt on her life some time ago, and no doubt she suspects I’m responsible for it.”
As do I, Takeo thought.
“I wish I didn’t have to be here at all,” she went on, seemingly lost in thought and talking to herself. “I wish Nobu could have stayed while we talked, but the risk is too great. I don’t know whom to trust anymore, not now that Lord Eun is dead. I’m out of options and desperate. I can’t believe I’m saying this. I can’t believe I’m debasing myself this way, but I . . . I need your help.”
Takeo balked. He’d been hearing that request often since joining the Hanus, but he’d never believed the Lady Ki would ask him such a thing. However, something else the old woman said caught Takeo’s attention.
Lord Eun was hers? That is interesting.
He didn’t know what to do with that information yet, but he tucked it away and straightened up.
“You?” he asked. “Need my help? I have to say, that’s not what I expected to hear, but then again, a lot of people have been asking for my help these days. You, though? If I recall, just a few months ago, you were saying I was Lady Zhenzhen’s pet and you’d have me killed the moment you could.”
“Yes, yes, I did say that,” she admitted, still speaking to Takeo indirectly. Her hands fiddled with her kimono nervously. “And I’m not going to say I didn’t mean it at the time. However, like I said, things have changed. I’ve no one else to turn to. I might be making the biggest mistake of my life, coming to you. I mean, I know I called you Lady Zhenzhen’s pet, but I also know you’re not. A man like you, Takeo, is beholden to no one. Zhenzhen’s true pet, that ninja creature, despises you. That must count for something; it must. I mean, what else can be done? I can’t beat her any other way. I have to save Nobu. I must do everything I can.”
Krunk contorted his face, increasing his hideousness tenfold. “That viking knows nothing. All he wants is to fight Krunk, and he’s bad at it.”
Emy laughed and walked up to her surrogate father, wiping the drool from his face with the clean side of her sleeve.
“You’re silly, Father,” she said. “Don’t you see? That’s why Nicholas wants to wrestle with you in the first place. He needs your help to get better.”
She paused as Krunk’s face showed the signs of slow understanding. Krunk grinned.
“Krunk does help, doesn’t he?” the ogre said.
“Of course you do,” Emy replied and touched a hand to Krunk’s cheek. “Now, why have you been looking for Takeo all over?”
“Krunk was given a message.” The ogre beamed, but then was overcome with a sudden look of dread.
“Let me guess,” Takeo said. “You forgot?”
Krunk dropped his head.
The samurai and rakshasa frowned, but neither was surprised. Krunk’s mental capacity had been taking a rapid turn for the worst in recent times, declining far faster than any had expected. Their only ogre expert, Gavin, was more shocked than most.
“I mean, it’s not like the Knights’ Order was a scholars’ club or anything,” Gavin had said once during their conversations on the topic. “We didn’t study ogre longevity, but over time we got used to seeing their norms. Physically, they grow like weeds, but it takes a good decade or so for them to reach full mental capacity. We just always assumed it was the same pace on the way out. Krunk though, I don’t know. Maybe an ogre’s mind isn’t like a human’s. Maybe it’s like an oil lamp with only so much fuel to burn. And let’s be honest, Krunk has been burning bright for some time. He’s running out.”
A worrying thought, to be sure, especially for Gavin and Emy, who loved Krunk like family. It was worrying to Takeo, too, but if he was pressed for honesty, not every concern of his was for Krunk’s safety. Krunk was still as strong as ever, and it worried Takeo at times the way Krunk didn’t notice people and bumped into them, sending them flying, or how Krunk sometimes forgot that he and Nicholas were only pretending to fight, or how Krunk would grab things he liked, whether they were his or not. It was agreed by all that Krunk shouldn’t be left alone anymore, though sometimes it happened.
“It’s okay, Krunk,” Takeo asked. “A better question is who asked you to be a messenger?”
Emy stiffened, the same realization striking her.
“Father,” Emy said. “Who gave you this message?”
Krunk shrugged.
“Someone looking for secrecy,” Takeo said. “What did this person look like?”
Krunk shrugged again. “Old lady. Krunk doesn’t remember.”
“An old lady?” Emy repeated, raising one eyebrow. “In an army camp?”
Takeo was momentarily perplexed, as well, until he realized there was only one old lady he knew with a reputation for visiting Hanu battlefields just before a battle.
“Where is she, Krunk?” Takeo asked.
Krunk pointed off into the distance, which was good enough for Takeo at this point. He knew his target wouldn’t be hard to find and glanced at the sun. He had a short time before his appointment with Lord Nobu if he rushed.
“Who is it?” Emy asked.
“Lord Nobu’s grandmother, the Lady Ki, I’d bet,” Takeo replied. “I’m almost certain of it. This can’t be good. Stay here and keep watch over Krunk. If you see Gavin, tell him I need to speak with him.”
“About what?”
“I’ll know after I see her,” he replied and marched off.
Takeo set an admirable pace, just above a comfortable walking speed, enough that his feet ate up the distance, but not so fast that he drew any more attention than his presence already did. His hand itched for his sword, and he let his forearm brush against the handle for comfort. It wasn’t his sword, of course, not his family’s sword, so the touch didn’t send a rush of heat and energy through his body, but there was something comforting in being armed.
At times, rare and distant times, Takeo fantasized about a world where he didn’t feel the need to be armed. He imagined it as the world he aimed to create: one without wars or slavery, without bandits or mercenaries. It would be a world where the rule of law protected people, even from themselves. The angels had done as much with the city of Lucifan, but they’d aimed too small in Takeo’s mind. They should have planned for bigger, aimed for more. They should have saved the many, instead of the few.
That’s what Emily would have wanted.
Deep in thought, Takeo almost ran headlong into Yeira as she rounded the nearest corner. It was an inexplicable chance, considering the lengths the two went to avoid each other, and they stopped mere inches away, then recoiled with equal vehemence. Their hearts recognized each other before their minds could catch up.
Yeira was perhaps easier to recognize than Takeo, being that she was a woman of unparalleled beauty. Her dark hair fell in waves to frame a face with strong cheekbones, soft eyes, and lips that beckoned for a kiss. She was no different the further down one went, with a body that curved with a sensual grace and played mad the minds of the lustful. Wherever she went, she drew eyes, as well as lewd comments from drunks with more confidence than sense. All this despite giving birth not too long ago, and Takeo had to admit that was impressive. He’d heard stories of what pregnancy could do to a woman’s body, but Gavin’s wife appeared unaffected.
Physically, at least.
“Takeo,” she said. There was no kindness in her tone.
“Yeira,” he replied.
“Where is Gavin?”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re speaking to me,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t know. I would have thought he was with you.”
“He never returned after you two went romping off into the woods.”
“Well, that’s a real shame,” Takeo said in a tone that gave no such indication. “If I see him, I’ll be sure to mention that you’re looking for him.”
Takeo went to sidestep her but Yeira matched his stride, cutting him off. He stopped.
“Yeira, I don’t mean to be rude, but I must be going,” Takeo said carefully. “And I know you don’t want to prolong this any more than I do.”
She leaned in and whispered, “If I find you’re covering for him, know that you aren’t doing him any favors.”
“Noted,” he replied, matching her tone.
He did sidestep her this time and then took up his former pace. As he faded away into the crowd, he could feel Yeira’s dark gaze burning holes into the back of his head.
Ah yes, now I remember. Problem number ten, my best friend’s wife hates me with the passion of a thousand suns.
Takeo was used to being hated as he’d been despised by most people throughout his life. However, most hated him for things that he either didn’t understand or were entirely out of his control. They hated him for being a ronin or for being a skilled enemy soldier or for being an upstart with no royal blood. Relatively few hated Takeo for what he would call “legitimate reasons,” or specifically, things he’d personally done to them. Yeira, however? Well, Takeo knew he deserved that one. Yeira had trusted Takeo once, and only once, to choose her happiness over Gavin’s. The result was Pleiades, and things had been different ever since.
But Takeo couldn’t concern himself with that right now. As far as he was concerned, Yeira was Gavin’s baggage, her well-being included. It was neither important nor necessary for Takeo to be in her good graces, so long as she didn’t interfere with his ability to keep them all safe.
Would she be the one to betray me? Surely she’s suspect, and yet I can’t be certain. Her desire for revenge would have to outweigh her sense of reason. Her life, Gavin’s, and her daughter’s hang by the threads of my own. If I die, her death would not be far behind. Still, I will watch her. I must watch everyone.
Takeo wasn’t used to questioning people’s loyalty. He usually trusted no one.
This whole concept of friendship is baffling. How do people deal with it all their lives? I never realized what my brother was sparing me from with a childhood spent in isolation.
And as he thought this, so did Takeo arrive at one of Lord Nobu’s private—the term used loosely here—tents.
As the shogun’s one and only child, Lord Nobu wanted for nothing in the material sense. His mother made certain that Nobu never went anywhere, including to war, without a full stock of all the essentials, which included a dedicated bathing station accompanied by a well-stocked wardrobe and a plethora of reading material paired with a full contingent of kitchen staff, skilled bards and storytellers, dutiful accountants, and even one or two sultry women who’d been verified clean of all unsavory diseases. Adding to this, most of the daimyo attempting to ride Nobu’s coattails had brought a hefty number of personal servants, which had the effect of creating two camps: one for the royalty and one for the soldiers. That was to say, Nobu’s section was easy to find.
However, Takeo didn’t blame any of this excess on the young lord. Takeo understood that the prince had little say in it, and if rumors were true, he didn’t use half the pleasurable things at his disposal, the women included. As for the things he did use, he was almost apologetic about it, over complimenting the chefs on his meals, the servants on their handling of his wares, and the bards on their musical talent, whether deserved or not.
Some thought this was endearing. Takeo found it pathetic. All found it exploitable.
As for how Takeo knew that Lord Nobu was in this particular tent? There were two large, imposing oni standing guard outside the entrance. Tokhta and his not-so-chatty colleague had apparently replaced Nobu’s normal bodyguards. Takeo did notice, however, that a mass of people was gathered outside the tent, though at a healthy distance from the oni. It was a measured separation, roughly double the length of one of the oni’s massive kanabo clubs, which were resting quietly on the ground. Made up of lords, ladies, and their ever-present servants, they seemed like a displaced dinner party. The group was chatting amongst themselves, or perhaps arguing, while darting eyes at the oni and talking in whispered tones. Takeo noted an air of hostility as he approached, though neither oni seemed to care.
Hm, has Nobu sent his entourage away? No, not possible. Lady Ki must be here, and she must have done it for him.
As Takeo approached, the crowd went quiet, and all eyes fell on him. Takeo made eye contact only with Tokhta, if briefly. The oni didn’t stir other than to drop its head. Takeo went to slip inside, but paused. The oni hadn’t asked him to surrender his weapon, as any human guard surely would. Could this be a trap? Takeo had almost been killed by an oni before, why not now?
“Hey!” someone yelled from the crowd. “Oni! Wake up. He’s about to go inside!”
Tokhta didn’t move other than to suck in a wad of snot. Takeo decided to take his chances and headed in. Several disapproving scoffs followed him from behind. He heard many shuffle, as if to follow him, but when one of the oni snarled, the shuffling stopped and the shouting started up again.
As Takeo’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noted that this tent was designed for the singular purpose of inviting guests. The design was that evident, and Takeo was coming to realize that Lady Zhenzhen had a keen eye for appearances and wanted her son’s superiority to be unquestionable.
Lord Nobu lounged in an elegantly carved, wooden throne, which sat on a raised platform, so the young lord was elevated even while sitting. Low lamps flanked him, as did large Hanu banners and fully stocked racks of weapons of symbolic use—that is to say, they were richly designed with gemstones and engravings. The whole tent was a vibrant red, deep and rich with sets of gold and silver trinkets strewn about with supposedly careless thought, though Takeo knew better. Lady Zhenzhen was a dedicated collector of shiny objects, and he knew from his time in her bedchamber that she had an entire crew of servants whose only job was to place and adjust her countless antiques in such a way that her wealth was displayed with equal parts prominence and carelessness—a difficult task, to be sure.
Neither did Nobu himself disappoint. Not that he could, unless he went naked. Takeo hadn’t seen the lord’s wardrobe, but judging by what he regularly wore, Lady Zhenzhen hadn’t sent the prince off with a single piece of clothing that wasn’t embroidered with some sort of rare, gleaming metal.
Lord Nobu wore a stunning kimono, glistening in the low light with golden edges and blood red colors, embroidered over with detailed designs that told the story of a famous Hanu battle. Nobu’s feet were wrapped in silk shoes, his shoulders were weighed down with a heavy cloak despite the warmth of the day, and his face was finely groomed, with every strand of hair bound firmly to a topknot. Lord Nobu could have been off to a royal party instead of meeting with a ronin.
Given Nobu’s attire, Takeo wondered why he’d bothered to change clothes at all.
And yet one would think them equals the way Lord Nobu drew in his shoulders, deflected his gaze, and pressed his knees together like a shy maiden being judged for a dowry price. The prince looked often to his right at the old and equally well-dressed woman who stood with as much spine as Takeo.
Like the Lady Zhenzhen, the Lady Ki Hanu was only a Hanu by marriage. She was a Zhao by blood, and rumors abounded that her loyalties were strongest there. She wore heavy amounts of makeup with plenty of white powder, and her lips were forever pursed into a pout. One got the sense that she was in a constant state of disapproval, though Takeo suspected that was not Lady Ki’s intention, despite her tendency to speak sharply and honestly. Her candid bite was rumored to have both enticed and infuriated Lord Nobu’s grandfather, and Takeo could only assume this was true because he couldn’t imagine anyone marrying her otherwise.
Takeo raised an eyebrow when he realized there was no one else inside the tent. He scanned quickly to see if there were any places for assassins to hide, but upon seeing none, bowed deeply.
“My lord and lady,” Takeo said. “I believe you sent for me.”
“I figured you’d get the message,” Lady Ki replied, “but you’re late.”
“Such is the outcome of using a forgetful ogre as a messenger,” Takeo replied.
He rose up, although he hadn’t been given express permission to do so. A bold statement, one would say, but Takeo wasn’t taking a risk here. Lord Nobu was too self-conscious to take note, and the Lady Ki thought too little of Takeo to expect any different. As Lady Zhenzhen’s personal bed toy, he held more sway in the Hanu kingdom than she did.
He wondered if Lord Nobu knew about that yet. He hoped not.
“My lady,” Takeo said, “I don’t mean to be so forward, but the battlefield is no place for a woman of your years.”
Ki smirked, showing off a smile that had long lost its shine.
“I appreciate your concern, Karaoshi, but I don’t see any battlefield. If there were, half those lot out there would have run for the hills, the beggars. Besides, although I haven’t killed as many as you, I’m no stranger to war. I’ll be fine.”
“You say that, but this is no normal battle,” he countered. “Those daimyo out there, I have no concern for, but you are Lord Nobu’s grandmother. Against a rakshasa, nothing can be certain.”
Lady Ki didn’t argue this time. She turned to her grandson, who gave her a nervous glance as if he were a child awaiting punishment.
“He’s here,” she said to Nobu. “You may leave now. Take the crowd with you.”
“Thank you, Grandmother,” he said.
Nobu bowed his head and leapt from his chair. He made a straight line for the tent’s exit, and Takeo nimbly stepped out of the way, though Nobu turned his shoulders as he passed as if to make room in kind. Takeo had to bite his tongue not to say anything. He thought to demand a private audience here and now, but he knew Lady Ki would never leave. Besides, Takeo had his time coming soon and so held his tongue. He still had his signed letter.
And then Nobu was gone, and a moment later, the sound of heavy oni footsteps were pounding off into the distance. The shouting voices faded with them.
“So,” Takeo said, turning back to Lady Ki. “I guess I’m supposed to believe it’s just you and me now?”
“I sure hope so. I may be a dead woman otherwise,” she replied. “I apologize for all the secrecy, Takeo, but this is the only place I can hope for privacy now. I couldn’t risk a letter. Zhenzhen watches me like a prison warden in that dirty old keep. There was an attempt on her life some time ago, and no doubt she suspects I’m responsible for it.”
As do I, Takeo thought.
“I wish I didn’t have to be here at all,” she went on, seemingly lost in thought and talking to herself. “I wish Nobu could have stayed while we talked, but the risk is too great. I don’t know whom to trust anymore, not now that Lord Eun is dead. I’m out of options and desperate. I can’t believe I’m saying this. I can’t believe I’m debasing myself this way, but I . . . I need your help.”
Takeo balked. He’d been hearing that request often since joining the Hanus, but he’d never believed the Lady Ki would ask him such a thing. However, something else the old woman said caught Takeo’s attention.
Lord Eun was hers? That is interesting.
He didn’t know what to do with that information yet, but he tucked it away and straightened up.
“You?” he asked. “Need my help? I have to say, that’s not what I expected to hear, but then again, a lot of people have been asking for my help these days. You, though? If I recall, just a few months ago, you were saying I was Lady Zhenzhen’s pet and you’d have me killed the moment you could.”
“Yes, yes, I did say that,” she admitted, still speaking to Takeo indirectly. Her hands fiddled with her kimono nervously. “And I’m not going to say I didn’t mean it at the time. However, like I said, things have changed. I’ve no one else to turn to. I might be making the biggest mistake of my life, coming to you. I mean, I know I called you Lady Zhenzhen’s pet, but I also know you’re not. A man like you, Takeo, is beholden to no one. Zhenzhen’s true pet, that ninja creature, despises you. That must count for something; it must. I mean, what else can be done? I can’t beat her any other way. I have to save Nobu. I must do everything I can.”
