Brilliance Of The Moon Part 23

"I don't know. Be on your guard and don't cross the bridge."

As I urged the black forward slightly, Endo said, "I am the senior retainer of the Otori clan. Let me take news of our surrender to you to Lord Arai."

"Very well," I said. "Tell him to encamp his army on that side of the river and bring him into the town. Then we can enforce peace with no further bloodshed on either side."

Endo rode forward onto the bridge and Arai halted and waited on the other side. Endo was almost halfway across when Arai held up his hand with the black war fan in it.

There was a moment of silence. Zenko cried at my side, "They are arming their bows."

The war fan dropped.

Though it was happening right in front of my eyes, I could not believe it. For several moments I stared incredulous as the arrows be-aan to fall. Endo went down at once, and the men on the bank, un-armed and unprepared, fell like deer to the hunter.

"There," Kenji said, drawing his sword. "That's what's wrong."

Once before I had been so betrayed-but that had been by Kenji himself and the Tribe. This betrayal was by a warrior to whom I had sworn allegiance. Had I killed Jo-An for this? Fury and outrage turned my vision red. I had taken the impregnable castle, kept the bridge whole, pacified the men. I had handed Hagi, my town, to Arai like a ripe persimmon, and with it the Three Countries.

Dogs were howling in the distance. They sounded like my own soul.

Arai rode onto the bridge and came to a halt in the center. He saw me and lifted off his helmet. It was a derisive gesture. He was so sure of his own strength, of victory. "Thank you, Otori," he called. "What a good work you did. Will you surrender now or shall we fight it out?"

"You may rule over the Three Countries," I shouted back, "but your falsehood will be remembered long after your death." I knew I was about to fight my last battle, and it was, as I had known it must be, with Arai. I just had not realized it would come so quickly.

"There will be no one left to record it," he sneered in reply, "because I intend now to wipe out the Otori once and for all."

I leaned down and seized Zenko, pulling him up onto the horse in front of me. I took my short sword and held it to his neck.

"I have both your sons here. Will you condemn them to death? I swear to you, I will kill Zenko now andTaku after him before you can reach me. Call off your attack!"

His face changed a little and paled. Taku stood motionless next to Kenji. Zenko did not move, either. Both boys stared at the father they had not seen for years.

Then Arai's features hardened and he laughed. "I know you, Takeo.

I know your weakness. You were not raised as a warrior; let's see if you can bring yourself to kill a child."

I should have acted immediately and ruthlessly, but I did not. I hesitated. Arai laughed again.

"Let him go," he called. "Zenko! Come here to me."

Fumio called in a low, clear voice, "Takeo, shall I shoot him?"

I can't remember replying. I can't remember letting go of Zenko. I heard the m.u.f.fled report from the firearm and saw Arai recoil in the saddle as the ball hit him, piercing his armor above the heart. There was a cry, of rage and horror, from the men around him and a scuffle as his horse reared; Zenko screamed, but these sounds were as nothing to the roar that followed them as the world beneath my horse's feet tore itself apart.

The maples on the far sh.o.r.e rose almost gracefully and began to march down the hillside. They gathered up Arai's army as they went, wrapping them in stones and soil and rolling them into the river.

My horse backed in terror, reared, and fled from the bridge, throwing me sideways onto the road. As I got to my feet, winded, the bridge groaned with a human voice. It cried out in its efforts to hold itself together and then flew apart, taking everyone on it down into the river. Then the river itself went mad. From the confluence upstream came a yellow-brown flood of water. It drained away from the bank on the town side, gathering up boats and living beings impartially, and raced over the opposite bank, where it swept away the remnants of two armies, breaking the boats like eating sticks, drowning men and horses and carrying their corpses out to sea.

The ground shook fiercely again, and from behind me I heard the crash of collapsing houses. I felt as if if I'd been stunned: Everything around me was hazy with dust and m.u.f.fled so I could no longer hear distinct sounds. I was aware of Kenji beside me andTaku kneeling by his brother, who had also fallen when the horse reared. I saw Fumio coming toward me through the haze, the firearm still in his hand. I'd been stunned: Everything around me was hazy with dust and m.u.f.fled so I could no longer hear distinct sounds. I was aware of Kenji beside me andTaku kneeling by his brother, who had also fallen when the horse reared. I saw Fumio coming toward me through the haze, the firearm still in his hand.

I was shaking from some mixture of emotions close to elation: a recognition of how puny we humans are when confronted with the great forces of nature, combined with grat.i.tude to heaven, to the G.o.ds I'd thought I did not believe in, who once again had spared my life.

My last battle had begun and ended in a moment. There was no further thought of fighting. Our only concern now was to save the town from fire.

Much of the district around the castle burned to the ground. The castle itself was destroyed in one of the aftershocks, killing the remaining women and children who were being held there. I was relieved, for I knew I could not let them live, but I shrank from ordering their deaths. Ryoma also died then, his boat sunk by falling masonry. When his body was washed up days later, I had him buried with the Otori lords at Daishoin, their name on his gravestone.

In the next few days I hardly slept or ate. With Miyos.h.i.+ and Kenji's help I organized the survivors to clear the rubble, bury the dead, and care for the wounded. Through the long sorrowful days of work and cooperation and grief, the rifts in the clan began to heal. The earthquake was generally held to be heaven's punishment on Arai for his treachery. Heaven clearly favored me, I was s.h.i.+geru's adopted son and nephew by blood, I had his sword, I resembled him, and I had avenged his death: The clan accepted me unreservedly as his true heir. I did not know what the situation was in the rest of the land; the earthquakes had shattered much of the Three Countries and we heard nothing from the other cities. All I was aware of was the enormity of the task that faced me in restoring peace and preventing famine in the coming winter.

I did not sleep at s.h.i.+geru's house the night of the earthquake, nor for many days following. I could not bear to go near it in case it had been destroyed. I camped with Miyos.h.i.+ in what remained of his residence. But about four days after the earthquake, Kenji came to me one evening after I had eaten and told me there was someone to see me. He was grinning, and for a moment I imagined it might be s.h.i.+zuka with a message from Kaede.

Instead it was the maids from s.h.i.+geru's house, Chiyo and Haruka. They looked exhausted and frail, and when they saw me I was afraid Chiyo would die from emotion. They both knelt at my feet, but I made them get up and I embraced Chiyo as tears streamed down her face. None of us could speak.

Finally, Chiyo said, "Come home, Lord Takeo. The house is waiting for you."

"It's still standing?"

"The garden is ruined-the river swept through it-but the house is not badly damaged. We'll get it ready for you tomorrow."

"I will come tomorrow evening," I promised. "You will come, too, sir?" she said to Kenji. "Almost like old times," he replied, smiling, though we all knew it could never be that.

The following day Kenji and I took Taku and some guards and walked down the familiar street. I did not take Zenko. The circ.u.mstances surrounding Arai's death had left his older son deeply disturbed. I was concerned for him, seeing his confusion and grief, but did not have time to deal with it. I suspected that he thought his father had died ign.o.bly and blamed me for it. Maybe he even blamed or despised me for sparing his life. I myself was not sure how to treat him: as the heir to a mighty warlord or as the son of the man who had betrayed me. I thought it best for him to be kept out of my way for the time being and put him in the service of Endo Chikara's family. I still hoped his mother, s.h.i.+zuka, was alive; when she returned we would discuss her son's future. Taku I had no doubts about; I would keep him with me, the first of the child spies I had dreamed of training and employing. The district around my old house had been hardly touched by the earthquake, and birds were singing blithely in the gardens. As we walked through it I was thinking about how I used to wait for the exact moment when I heard the house's song of the river and the world, and remembering how I had first seen Kenji on the corner. The song was altered now; the stream was clogged, the waterfall dry, but the river still lapped at the dock and the wall.

Haruka found the last of the wildflowers and a few chrysanthemums to put in buckets outside the kitchen, as she always had, and their sharp autumn scent mingled with the smell of mud and decay from the river. The garden was ruined, the fish all dead, but Chiyo had washed and polished the nightingale floor, and when we stepped onto it, it sang beneath our feet.

The downstairs rooms were damaged by water and mud, and she had already started stripping them and having new mats laid, but the upstairs room was untouched. She had cleaned and polished it until it looked just as it had the first time I had seen it when I had fallen in love with s.h.i.+geru's house and with him.

Chiyo apologized that there was no hot water for a bath, but we washed in cold water and she managed to find enough food for an adequate meal as well as several flasks of wine. We ate in the upper room, as we so often had before, and Kenji made Taku laugh by describing my poor efforts as a student and how impossible and disobedient I had been. I was filled with an almost unbearable mixture of sorrow and joy, and smiled with tears in my eyes. But whatever my grief, I felt s.h.i.+geru's spirit was at peace. I could almost see his quiet ghost in the room with us, smiling when we smiled. His murderers were dead and Jato had come home.

Taku fell asleep at last, and Kenji and I shared one more flask of wine as we watched the gibbous moon move across the garden. It was a cold night. There would probably be a frost, and we closed the shutters before going to bed ourselves. I slept restlessly, no doubt from the wine, and woke just before dawn, thinking I had heard some unfamiliar sound. The house lay quiet around me. I could hear Kenji and Taku breathing alongside me, and Chiyo and Haruka in the room below. We had put guards on the gate, and there were still a couple of dogs there. I thought I could hear the guards talking in low voices. Perhaps it was they who had awakened me.

I lay and listened for a while. The room began to lighten as day broke. I decided I had heard nothing unusual and would go to the privy before I tried to sleep for another hour or two. I got up quietly and crept down the stairs, slid open the door, and stepped outside.

I did not bother masking my footsteps, but as soon as the floor sang I realized what it was I had heard: one light step onto the boards. Someone had tried to come into the house and had been discouraged by the floor. So where was he now?

I was thinking rapidly, I should wake Kenji, should at least get a weapon I should wake Kenji, should at least get a weapon, when the Kikuta master Kotaro came out of the misty garden and stood in front of me.

Until tonight I had seen him only in his faded blue robes, the disguise he wore when traveling. Now he was in the dark fighting clothes of the Tribe, and all the power that he usually kept hidden was revealed in his stance and in his face, the embodiment of the Tribes hostility toward me, expert, ruthless, and implacable. He said, "I believe your life is forfeit to me."

"You broke faith with me by ordering Akio to kill me," I said. "All our bargains were annulled then. And you had no right to demand anything from me when you did not tell me that it was you who killed my father."

He smiled in contempt. "You're right, I did kill Isamu," he said. "I've learned now what it was that made him disobedient too: the Otori blood that flows in you both." He reached into his jacket and I moved quickly to avoid the knife I thought was coming, but what he held out was a small stick. "I drew this," he said, "and I obeyed the orders of the Tribe, even though Isamu and I were cousins and friends, and even though he refused to defend himself. That's what obedience is."

Kotaro's eyes were fixed on my face and I knew he was hoping to confuse me with the Kikuta sleep, but I was certain I could withstand it, though I doubted I could use it on him as I had once before in Matsue. We held each other's gaze for several moments, neither of us able to dominate.

"You murdered him," I said. "You contributed to s.h.i.+geru's death too. And what purpose did Yuki's death serve?"

He hissed impatiently in the way I remembered and with a lightning movement threw the stick to the ground and drew a knife. I dove sideways, shouting loudly. I had no illusions about my ability to take him on alone and unarmed. I would have to fight bare-handed as I had with Akio until someone came to my help.

He jumped after me, feinting at me, and then moved faster than the eye could follow in the opposite direction to take my neck in a stranglehold; but I'd antic.i.p.ated the move, slipped under his grasp, and kicked at him from behind. I caught him just over the kidney and heard him grunt. Then I leaped above him and with my right hand hit him in the neck.

The knife came upward and I felt it slash deep into the side of my right hand, taking off the two smallest fingers and opening up the palm. It was my first real wound and the pain was terrible, worse than anything I'd ever experienced. I went invisible for a moment, but my blood betrayed me, spurting across the nightingale floor. I shouted again, screaming for Kenji, for the guards, and split myself. The second self rolled across the floor while I drove my left hand into Kotaro's eyes.

His head snapped sideways as he avoided the blow, and I kicked at the hand that held the knife. He leaped away with unbelievable speed and then seemed to fly back at my head. I ducked just before he could kick me in the head and leaped into the air as he landed, all this time fighting off shock and pain, knowing that if I gave in to them for a moment, I would die. I was about to try to kick him in a similar way when I heard the upstairs window open and a small invisible object came hurtling out.

Kotaro was not expecting it and he heard it a second after I did. By then I had perceived it to be Taku. I leaped to break his fall, but he seemed almost to fly down onto Kotaro, distracting him momentarily. I turned my leap into a kick and rammed my foot hard into Kotaro's neck.

As I landed, Kenji shouted from above, "Takeo! Here!" and threw Jato down to me.

I caught my sword in my left hand. Kotaro grabbed Taku, swung him above his head, and hurled him into the garden. I heard the boy gasp as he landed. I swung Jato above my head, but my right hand was pouring blood and the blade descended crookedly. Kotaro went invisible as I missed him. But now that I was armed he was more wary of me. I had a moments breathing s.p.a.ce. I tore off my sash and wound it around my palm.

Kenji leaped from the upstairs window, landed on his feet like a cat, and immediately went invisible. I could discern the two masters faintly and they could obviously see each other. I had fought alongside Kenji before and I knew if anyone did how truly dangerous he was, but I realized I had never seen him in action against anyone who had a fraction of his skills. He had a sword a little longer than Kotaro's knife and it gave him a slight advantage, but Kotaro was both brilliant and desperate. They drove each other up and down the floor and it cried out under their feet. Kotaro seemed to stumble, but as Kenji closed in on him, he recovered and kicked him in the ribs. They both split their images. I lunged at Kotaro's second self as Kenji somersaulted away from him. Kotaro turned to deal with me and I heard the whistling sound of throwing knives. Kenji had hurled them at his neck. The first blade penetrated and I saw Kotaro's vision begin to waver. His eyes were fixed on my face. He made one last vain thrust with his knife, but Jato seemed to antic.i.p.ate it and found its way into his throat. He tried to curse me as he died, but his windpipe was slashed and only blood came bubbling out, obscuring the words.

By now the sun had risen; when we gazed down on Kotaro's broken, bleeding body in its pale light, it was hard to believe that such a fragile human being had wielded so much power. Kenji and I had only just managed to overcome him between us and he had left me with a ruined hand, Kenji with terrible bruises and, we found out later, broken ribs. Taku was winded and shaken, lucky to be still alive. The guards who had come running at my shouts were as shocked as if a demon had attacked us. The dogs' hackles rose when they sniffed around the body, and they showed their teeth in uneasy snarls.

My fingers were gone, my palm was torn open. Once the terror and thrill of the fight had subsided, the pain truly made itself felt, turning me faint.

Kenji said, "The knife blade was probably poisoned. We should take your hand off at the elbow to save your life." I was light-headed with shock and at first thought he was joking, but his face was serious and his voice alarmed me. I made him promise he would not do it. I would rather be dead than lose what was left of my right hand. As it was, I thought I would never hold a sword or a brush again.

He washed the wound at once, told Chiyo to bring coals, and, while the guards knelt on me to hold me still, seared the stumps of the fingers and the edges of the wound and then bound it with what he said he hoped was an antidote.

The blade was indeed poisoned and I fell into h.e.l.l, a confusion of pain and fever and despair. As the long, tormented days pa.s.sed, I was aware that everyone thought I was dying. I did not believe I would die, but I could not speak to rea.s.sure the living. Instead, I lay in the upstairs room, thras.h.i.+ng and sweating and babbling to the dead.

They filed past me, those I had killed, those who had died for me, those I had avenged: my family in Mino; the Hidden at Yamagata; s.h.i.+geru; Ichiro; the men I had murdered on the Tribe's orders; Yuki; Amano; Jiro; Jo-An.

I longed for them to be alive again, I longed to see them in the flesh and hear their living voices; one by one they bade me farewell and left me, desolate and alone. I wanted to follow them, but I could not find the road they had taken.

At the worst point of the fever, I opened my eyes and saw a man in the room. I had never seen him before, but I knew he was my father. He wore peasant's clothes like the men of my village and he carried no weapons. The walls faded away and I was in Mino again; the village was unburned and the rice fields were brilliant green. I watched my father working in the fields, absorbed and peaceful. I followed him up the mountain path and into the forest and I knew how much he loved to roam there among its animals and plants, for it was what I loved too.

I saw him turn his head and listen in the familiar Kikuta way as he caught some distant noise. In a moment he would recognize the step: his cousin and friend who was coming to execute him. I saw Kotaro appear on the path in front of him.

He was dressed in the dark fighting clothes of the Tribe, as he had been when he came for me. The two men stood as if frozen before me, each with their distinctive stance: my father, who had taken a vow never to kill again, and the future Kikuta master, who lived by the trade of death and terror.

As Kotaro drew his knife I screamed out a warning. I tried to rise, but hands held me back. The vision faded, leaving me in anguish. I knew that I could not change the past, but I was aware, with the intensity of fever, that the conflict was still unresolved. However much men craved an end to violence, it seemed they could not escape it. It would go on and on forever unless I found a middle way, a way to bring peace, and the only way I could think of was to reserve all violence to myself, in the name of my country and my people. I would have to continue on my violent path so that everyone else could live free of it, just as I had to believe in nothing so everyone else was free to believe in what they wanted. I did not want that. I wanted to follow my father and forswear killing, living in the way my mother had taught me. The darkness rose around me and I knew that if I surrendered to it I could go after him and the conflict would be ended for me. The thinnest of veils separated me from the next world, but a voice was echoing through the shadows.

Your life is not your own. Peace comes at the price of bloodshed.

Behind the holy woman's words I heard Makoto calling my name. I did not know if he was dead or alive. I wanted to explain to him what I had learned and how I could not bear to act as I knew I would have to and so I was leaving with my father, but when I tried to speak, my swollen tongue would not frame the words. They came out as nonsense and I writhed in frustration, thinking we would be parted before I could talk to him.

He was holding my hands firmly. He leaned close and spoke clearly to me. "Takeo! I know. I understand. It's all right. We will have peace. But only you can bring it. You must not die. Stay with us! You have to stay with us for the sake of peace."

He talked to me like this for the rest of the night, his voice keeping the ghosts at bay and linking my spirit with this world. Dawn came and the fever broke. I slept deeply, and when I awoke, lucidity had returned. Makoto was still there and I wept for joy that he was alive. My hand still throbbed, but with the ordinary pain of healing, not with the ferocious agony of the poison. Kenji told me later he thought something must have come from my father, some immunity in the master poisoner's blood that protected me. It was then that I repeated to him the words of the prophecy, how my own son was destined to kill me and how I did not believe I would die before then. He was silent for a long time. "Well," he said finally. "That must lie a long way in the future. We will deal with it when it comes."

My son was Kenji's grandson. The prophecy seemed even more unbearably cruel to me. I was still weak and tears came easily. My body's frailty infuriated me. It was seven days before I could walk outside to the privy, fifteen before I could get on a horse again. The full moon of the eleventh month came and went. Soon it would be the solstice and then the year would turn, the snows would come. My hand began to heal: The wide, ugly scar almost obliterated both the silvery mark, from the burn I received the day s.h.i.+geru saved my life, and the straight line of the Kikuta.

Makoto sat with me day and night but said little to me. I felt he was keeping something from me and that Kenji also knew what it was. Once they brought Hiros.h.i.+ to see me and I was relieved that the boy lived. He seemed cheerful, telling me about their journey, how they had escaped the worst of the earthquake and had come upon the pathetic remnants of Arai's once mighty army, and how marvelous Shun had been, but I thought he was partly pretending. Sometimes Taku, who had aged years in a month, came to sit by me; like Hiros.h.i.+, he acted cheerfully, but his face was pale and strained. As my strength returned, I realized we should have heard from s.h.i.+zuka. Obviously everyone feared feared the worst, but I did not believe she was dead. Nor was Kaede, for neither of them had visited me in my delirium. the worst, but I did not believe she was dead. Nor was Kaede, for neither of them had visited me in my delirium.

Finally one evening Makoto said to me, "We have had news from the South. The damage from the earthquake was even more severe there. At Lord Fujiwara's there was a terrible fire..."

He took my hand. "I'm sorry, Takeo. It seems no one survived."

"Fujiwara is dead?"

"Yes, his death is confirmed." He paused and added quietly, "Kondo Kiichi died there."

Kondo, whom I had sent with s.h.i.+zuka...

"And your friend?" I asked.

"He also. Poor Mamoru. I think he would almost have welcomed it."

I said nothing for a few moments. Makoto said gently, "They have not found her body, but..."

"I must know for sure," I said. "Will you go there for me?"

He agreed to leave the next morning. I spent the night anguis.h.i.+ng over what I would do if Kaede was dead. My only desire would be to follow her; yet how could I desert all those who had stayed so loyally by me? By dawn I'd recognized the truth of Jo-An's words, and Makoto's. My life was not my own. Only I could bring peace. I was condemned to live.

During the night something else occurred to me, and I asked to see Makoto before he left. I was worried about the records that Kaede had taken to s.h.i.+rakawa with her. If I was to live, I wanted to have them back in my possession before winter began. For I had to spend the long months in planning the summers strategy; those of my enemies who remained would not hesitate to use the Tribe against me. I felt I would have to leave Hagi in the spring and impose my rule over the Three Countries, maybe even set up my headquarters in Inuyama and make it my capital. It made me smile half-bitterly, for its name means Dog Mountain, and it was as if it had been waiting for me.

I told Makoto to take Hiros.h.i.+ with him. The boy would show him where the records were hidden. I could not suppress the fluttering hope that Kaede would be at s.h.i.+rakawa-that Makoto would somehow bring her back to me.

They returned on a bitterly cold day nearly two weeks later. I saw they were alone, and disappointment nearly overcame me. They were also empty-handed.

"The old woman who guards the shrine would give the records to no one but you," Makoto said. "I'm sorry, I could not persuade her otherwise."

Hiros.h.i.+ said eagerly, "We will go back. I will go with Lord Otori."

"Yes, Lord Otori must go," Makoto said. He seemed to be going to speak again but then fell silent.

"What?" I prompted him.

He was looking at me with a strange expression of compa.s.sion and pure affection. "We will all go," he said. "We will learn once and for all if there is any news of Lady Otori."

I longed to go yet feared it would be a useless journey and that it was too late in the year. "We run the risk of being caught by the snow," I said. "I had planned to winter in Hagi."

"If the worse comes to the worst, you can stay in Terayama. I am going there on the way back. I will be staying there, for I can see my time with you is drawing to a close."

"You are going to leave me? Why?"

"I feel I have feel I have other work to do. You have achieved all that I set out to help you with. I am being called back to the temple." other work to do. You have achieved all that I set out to help you with. I am being called back to the temple."

I was devastated. Was I to lose everyone I loved? I turned away to hide my feelings.

"When I thought you were dying, I made a vow," Makoto went on. "I promised the Enlightened One that if you lived, I would devote my life to your cause in a different way. I've fought and killed alongside you and I would do it gladly all over again. Except that it solves nothing, in the end. Like the weasel's dance, the cycle of violence goes on and on."

His words rang in my ears. They were exactly what had pounded in my brain while I was delirious.

"You talked in your fever about your father and about the command of the Hidden, to take no one's life. As a warrior, it's hard for me to understand, but as a monk it is a command that I feel I must try and follow. I vowed that night that I would never kill again. Instead, I will seek peace through prayer and meditation. I left my flutes atTerayama to take up weapons. I will leave my weapons here and go back for them."

He smiled slightly. "When I speak the words, they sound like madness. I am taking the first step only on a long and difficult journey, but it is one I must make."