L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane (5 page)

Shizue smiled, returning his bow. Smoothly, the two Crane stepped from the doorway down the stairs of the palace, and into the grassy pathway that divided Kyuden Kakita from its inner courtyards.

"You speak too much to the Dragon, Uncle," Shizue said, as if commenting on some small flower by the path.

"The Dragon are our allies, Shizue-chan. Taki was trying to help us." Toshimoko said jovially, eagerly walking toward the tournament fields.

Shizue sighed, shaking her head. "You play too many games, Toshimoko-sama."

"The same games you courtiers play, squirrel, but with swords and not fans."

The samurai on the dueling ground before the dais were resplendent in their gleaming armor. Lacquered plates shone purple, blue, gold, and green. The mon of the Six Clans waved on banners that hung from every corner of the field.

Toshimoko had always liked tournament days. Although he had long ago ceased to compete—it would not have been generous for the Crane to sponsor a tournament and win every prize—he lived the excitement of the bouts through his students, encouraging them to succeed and shouting in disappointment when they were beaten. This year, four of his best had entered the competition, two in the grand ken-jutsu melee, and two more in the single-duel bouts.

Across the field on the wooden dais stood Doji Hoturi, surrounded by courtiers of all clans. Although the young man's face was stoic, Toshimoko could see the envy in his eyes as he watched the dueling. Hoturi had always done well on the iaijutsu field. Toshimoko sighed and spat out the tasteless cinnamon bark. All the good warriors were forbidden the competition of the ring. That must be why there had been so many wars lately.

Taking a pair of practice bokken lying by the field, Toshimoko strode toward one of his students and gruffly pelted him with a shomen strike.

The boy, a Kakita of good breeding but slow wit, fell to the side from the blow. "Hai, Sensei!" he yelled.

"Ho! Hoturi-sama!" Toshimoko called from the field, bowing and motioning to the student beside him. Hoturi looked toward them with interest, recognizing his old friends voice. "This one needs to work on his ma-ai—his timing."

"Oh?" Hoturi called. "Tell him to step forward before he steps forward." It was an impossible task. The joke was an old one, and several of the Kakita students on the field smiled.

"I think Kakita Moshi needs to be shown before I can allow him to represent his school on the tournament field. Can you assist me?"

Although Hoturi seemed to weigh the request against his courtly obligations, Toshimoko could see that it was only a political maneuver.

Shizue knelt beside her half-brother and whispered polite words of greeting.

"Please, Lord Hoturi," she smiled. "Allow me to entertain your guests with a story while you aid your fallen cousin in his studies."

Good girl, Toshimoko thought, smiling. No matter how arrogant or impatient, no guest could refuse a story from the emperor's own tale spinner.

Hoturi nodded seriously and smoothly stood from the cushion. Removing his elaborate vest and headpiece, he offered them to a nearby Daidoji bodyguard for safekeeping. Taking the proffered weapon from Toshimoko's hand, he stepped from the dais and motioned for Kakita Moshi to stand. The two bowed formally to each other and settled into position.

Warily, the youth took a solid stance. He shifted the sword in his hand to a defensive shite position and awaited Hoturi's attack.

Toshimoko strode around the two for a moment, well aware their actions were being watched by half the samurai on the practice field. "Moshi!"

"Hai, Sensei!"

"You are too old to be reminded of your timing." Behind his back, Toshimoko shifted his fingers, knowing Hoturi could see them. "Ma-ai, the essence of superior timing, is critical. Your opponent will not warn you of his strike." Toshimoko's voice was deliberately rhythmic. He watched as the student absorbed each syllable. "You cannot expect the strike, for it will come when you least—" With a hidden movement, he commanded Hoturi to attack.

The Crane Champion responded with blinding swiftness. The single motion, feebly blocked, glanced into the Kakita's belly. With bokken pressed against the student's abdomen, Hoturi stood calmly. His face twitched, suppressing a grin.

"Who are you?" Toshimoko shouted to his student, invoking the ancient oath of the academy.

"Kakita!" the call resounded from twenty throats, echoed by the duelists in the gathering crowd,

Hoturi stepped back, lowering the bokken and nodding his head to the defeated Kakita Moshi. Echoing the shout, Hoturi raised his fist into the air and listened to the resonant voices of the gathered Crane samurai.

Some said a champion's place was not beside his men, but in front of them. The whispers of courtiers proved only that they had never touched the true sword of a Kakita duelist, never known the hand of a sword brother, or fought, eaten, and lived at the side of students, masters, and ancestors.

Remembering his years of study at their side, Doji Hoturi lifted his fist again, and again the name of Kakita rang in the crisp autumn morning. In that moment, Hoturi was only another member of the school, another brother who owed his life to his brothers' swords.

Smiling as the cheers faded, Doji Hoturi handed the bokken to his opponent.

"It was my honor to fight you, Lord Hoturi-sama." The young man said reverently. "No matter how I do in the tournament, on this day I have been defeated by the two finest swordsmen our clan has to offer." He turned, bowed respectfully to his sensei, and gathered the bokken.

Hoturi chuckled.

Toshimoko saw the stress fade from the champion's eyes.

A low voice from the crowd caught his ear. "Of course he does well against a half-educated boy. It is too bad we cannot see how the champion of the Crane would fight against a fully trained Lion."

Anger leapt into Hoturi's gray eyes, obscuring the pride that had filled them.

The words had come from the Ikoma. In full battle armor, he leaned arrogantly on the length of a wooden bo staff. His brown eyes were hard and cold, his gloved hands twisted about the bo, and his lips curved into a bitter smile.

"It is not the place of the champion to fight on the day of the festival," Hoturi said, and the words were made of ice. "This is a day of celebration, Ikoma. Let it be so."

Toshimoko watched as the Lion bowed slightly less deeply than protocol would demand. Behind them, courtiers of all clans watched in sadistic fascination, hoping to see the argument blossom into a political occasion. Toshimoko knew his student better than they did, and he understood the restraint necessary to keep from slicing the Ikoma's head from his arrogant body.

Hoturi returned the bow properly, only his eyes noting the fact that he had been insulted. "Sensei Toshimoko-san?"

"Hai, Hoturi-sama?" Toshimoko leapt forward as his champion called his name.

"Although it is not seemly that I join the fighting on this day, I would not want to see our Lion friend disappointed on the field of combat, I would like you to enter the trials, and ensure he has a fitting opponent for his ... training."

Without the faintest touch of a smile, Kakita Toshimoko bowed first to his champion, and then to the suddenly stoic Ikoma Jushin. "As you wish, my lord," he said, raising his eyes to meet the Lion's. "It will be my honor to exchange lessons with a Lion."

Oh yes, thought Toshimoko. This was going to be a most excellent morning.

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The honorable daimyo of the Kakita was resplendent in his silver-blue kimono, leading his assistant, Shizue, and her three handmaidens into the grand hall. When Yoshi stepped through the sliding shoji screens of the main room, a faint sigh of appreciation wavered among the guests. Yoshi smiled.

The fighting had ceased and the armor had been put away, the swords were encased in colorful obi, and bushi of the six great clans feasted on delicate rice and fish. Elaborate fusuma screens festooned the palace's largest hall. Brightly colored paper lanterns cast a soft light around the room. The massive fireplace blazed, warming and brightening the stone chamber and reflecting from the white-painted faces of the ladies. Bowing like willows, the most beautiful women in the empire vied with the fire for attention. Their smiles sparkled and danced among boldly dressed samurai. Here gathered the highborn folk, those invited to the private festivals of the wealthiest clan in Rokugan.

This was Kakita Yoshi's battlefield, his home. The manipulations of the court were as natural to him as breathing.

Shizue greeted the Phoenix ambassador, slowing her pace to fail farther behind her master. Yoshi was delaying discussions with the Phoenix, and Shizue skillfully screened his escape. Her handmaidens fanned out, their dark blue robes sparkling with painted scenes of rivers and elaborate waterfalls. No expense was spared for the assistants of the Kakita Daimyo, and each movement was as precise as a master's calligraphy.

Let the shugenja have their spells and the swordsmen their weapons. There was no practice in the empire as dangerous or as exciting as this.

Now the games would begin.

Kakita Yoshi raised his fan from his obi. He smiled politely to the visitors who bowed before him and ignored his three Daidoji bodyguards. They growled and hovered like overprotective wolves. Among the courtiers, frankly curious stares greeted his choice of kimono. Beneath the silver-blue of the Crane, a second kimono peeped. Its golden tan reflected the color of the Lion Clan. Let them wonder, Yoshi thought, noting a gruff Ikoma Jushin resting his bruised ribs by the fireplace. Let them remember that silver and gold are the colors of the emperor's own heir. Bold, yes, Yoshi smiled, but effective.

One of the first to approach through the mingling crowd was the Crab Tsuru, who bowed respectfully and offered Yoshi appropriate greetings.

"My Lord Kakita," the Hida began, adjusting his obi as he bowed, "from the clan of the Crab, you have our gracious thanks for your hospitality and friendship. My lord offers his own, should you or your family be inclined to visit the lands of the Great Wall."

No chance of that ever occurring, thought Yoshi, but no sign of his emotion showed on his elegant face. The Crab had obviously practiced the greeting for weeks and, at least, had the inflections correct.

"My Lord Hida-san," Kakita Yoshi bowed gently, his form moving like a reed in the wind, "your words do us honor. The Crab Clan is known for their solid support of the empire, and their bravery upon the Wall of the South. We are the ones honored that your lord could spare you and your retainers for our humble diversions."

Confused by the faint implication that the Crab Champion did not need him, Tsuru nodded. "The battles at the Wall go well this season, and the creatures of the Shadow-lands are few."

"So I have heard." The daimyo of the Kakita smiled, his sonorous voice carrying over nearby conversations. "It is well that your Lord Kisada keeps such a large standing army in his northern provinces, just in case the attacks at the Wall should begin in earnest. I would not want the empire to be overrun by the creatures, and your Lord Kisada's constant vigilance does your clan honor." A few eyebrows raised at the mention of the standing Crab army, but Yoshi s guests pretended not to notice the implications.

"Not at all, Yoshi-sama," Tsuru smiled, fooled by Yoshi s feigned interest. "The army of the Crab is fifty thousand men strong, trained in battle with goblins and oni. They are prepared to handle any threat."

"Any threat at all . . . save the threat of time." Yoshi's fan snapped shut carefully. "After all, your army camps over three days from the Kaiu Kabe, and the bushi do not carry jade for curing the Taint. Surely Kisada-sama does not believe Shadowlands creatures have slipped through Crab lines."

"No, of course not. The Crab serve the empire well. Nothing moves past us." Tsuru's chest puffed with indignation.

A matron of the Phoenix smiled mockingly at the man's ignorance.

"Of course not, Tsuru-san. Nothing at all goes past the Crab." Without a hint of amusement, Yoshi turned to his handmaiden. "Okasako?" He asked her, and she bowed beautifully. "Please show Tsuru-san our gift."

Reaching into her kimono sleeve, the Kakita maiden withdrew a small figurine of jade and diamond. Although carefully wrapped in tissue, the form of the statuette was clear through the coverings. Tsuru would open it later, when none were present to see, but for now, the point had been made.

"This is for you, my guest, that your house may grow and prosper in the absence of its enemies."

"Oh, no, Kakita-sama," Tsuru bowed politely as he began the customary refusals. Although the Crab was trying to make a good impression, his feet were too far apart—too much like a martial stance. The Crab would simply never learn. "It is too fine a gift for me, and I cannot accept."

"Good and honored Crab," Yoshi began, tapping the statuette lightly with the tip of his fan, "you have already stated that Crane lands are safe of any infestation from the Shadow-lands, or your armies would know of such a danger. I am in no need of its protective qualities, but I know that when you return to your Lord Kisada, you will once more be upon the Great Wall, and will have need of it. Please, take it to guard your body from the Taint of the Shadowlands." Skillfully, Yoshi maneuvered the Crab's words, receiving exactly the answer he had expected.