L5r - scroll 05 - The Crab (14 page)

"Indeed," said the Unicorn smiling. "By the way, I am Utaku Hentai, special envoy for Shinjo Yokatsu."

"I am Hida Sukune," he said bowing. "Though it seems that my reputation has preceded me."

"You
are
the only Crab in attendance," Hentai pointed out.

Sukune looked around the audience chamber. The Crane had sent the most representatives—an entourage of nearly twenty—while several small clans, like the Hornet and the Dragonfly, sent merely three. The Crab was the only clan to deign to send only one envoy.

"So I am," Sukune said noncommittally.

This place was arranged similarly to Kisada's courtyard. A slightly raised dais covered with tatami mats stood at one end of the large open room. The main space was all hardwood floor with three rows of square, flat pillows lined up along the side walls. The attendees sat cross-legged on these cushions. It was considered impolite to require guests to kneel during long announcements. The envoys faced one another across an open aisle. Anyone who had to address the speaker would come to the center of the room and kneel for the duration of his or her exchange.

At the back of the dais stood an artistically fashioned suit of heavy armor. In the center was a large, soft pillow where the emperor's representative—probably a chamberlain or general— would sit to address the gathered envoys. Clearly the emperor did not intend to make the announcement, whatever it was, himself. If he had, the diplomats would have been shown into the throne room.

The room fell silent as a shoji at the rear of the dais slid open. A servant knelt on the other side and bowed her head to the wooden hallway floor. The imperial representative entered— Empress Kachiko herself.

In an audience such as this one, the guests usually remained completely silent until the speaker invited comment. When the clan representatives realized they were about to be addressed by Empress Kachiko, though, a muffled chatter arose. Some clans seemed upset. Others were impressed and flattered.

Sukune was mostly worried. What matter, he wondered, was delicate enough to call for a direct audience with the Lady Scorpion, but not important enough to warrant the emperor appearing at her side?

At first, Kachiko seemed every inch the empress, carrying herself with regal authority and poise. Her long hair was raised in a conservative style and wrapped in a loose knot at the back of her head. Kachiko wore a double-layered kimono, traditional for members of the imperial family at important functions. Two handmaidens lilted her heavy silk train as she entered the room. But the pattern on the cloth was anything but traditional. Instead of the usual imperial purple and gold, her outer kimono was dyed crimson and black Rather than the traditional floral decoration, the kimono bore an abstract pattern that contained dozens of scorpions hidden in the design.

Many of the guests shifted uncomfortably and whispered to one another. How could the empress be so crass as to draw attention to her unfortunate past? What did this mean?

Sukune sat calmly. If anything truly bothered him, it was the reaction of the other guests. Kachiko was still the same manipulative, unprincipled, beguiling woman she always had been. Sukune refused to give the Lady Scorpion the satisfaction of reacting to her clothing. That was what she wanted. The only way to beat her at her own game was to identify what she wanted and deny it.

Kachiko smiled demurely, then bowed her head and came up with as serious a look as Sukune had ever seen. Her face truly was the ultimate mask. It showed the world just what she wanted it to see and never revealed her inner thoughts.

"Honored guests," Kachiko began, "I thank you for attending this meeting on such short notice. I bring the emperor's most humble apologies for not greeting you himself. As you know, Hantei the 39th suffers from the debilitating plague that has swept across the empire, making it difficult for him to attend the gatherings he would ordinarily enjoy."

Sukune smirked to himself. The message must be pretty controversial if Kachiko was opening with such a blatant bid for sympathy.

"Ironically, the topic my august husband wished to discuss with you was his illness," the Lady Scorpion continued. "He has been ill for well over a year now, and his healers present no guarantee—-or even reasonable hope—that his condition will improve. In fact, the healers say that if our emperor's health has not begun to improve by now, it likely never will."

Everyone in the room gasped. Such things were simply
not
talked about—especially when they had to do with the emperor. As the message sank in, Sukune saw every diplomat come to the same realization. Kachiko was saying that the emperor was deathly ill and never would recover.

"I can tell you are beginning to see the real problem here," Kachiko said with a tinge of mean-spiritedness. "For the last few months the emperor and I have been working as hard as his fragile health will allow to provide an heir to the empire—a fortieth Hantei to fill the unimaginable void that would be left when ...
if
my husband succumbs. However, so far the emperor has been unable to produce an heir."

Sukune marveled at the Lady Scorpion's speaking skills. She could easily have broached this subject without using such blatant terms. The representatives of the "polite" clans would be so disturbed by the announcement's form—by the fact that she was talking openly about illness, death, and sexuality—that they would be taken unawares by its intent. In truth, Sukune sensed that Kachiko had not yet come to the real point of this gathering.

"My husband has given long consideration to his duty to provide the empire with a continuous line of leadership. He remembers quite vividly the covetous actions of the traitor Toturi in the wake of his father's demise. He does not wish to see the empire thrown into such chaos again."

How convenient, Sukune thought, for Kachiko to omit her own part in the coup that forced the chaos to begin with.

"And so, in the event that we continue to be unable to produce an heir, the emperor has decided to name a successor. Rather, he will name a clan to succeed the Hantei should he in fact be the last of that noble family."

The room fairly broke into chaos. All the assembled diplomats, politicians, and dignitaries began guessing which clan would be chosen and, if it was not their own, why the decision was ill-advised. Finally, the senior representative of the Crane Clan—an eighty-year-old man who rose only with support from both a walking stick and a younger assistant—asked on which clan the emperor would bestow such an honor.

"That has yet to be decided," Kachiko said slowly, savoring the murmurs that ran through the crowd. She pulled out a scroll, unraveled it, and read, "The emperor issues the following decree on the matter:

"For reasons already described to you, I am considering the matter of which Rokugani clan to task with the unenviable responsibility of caring for and leading the Emerald Empire from the day of my death onward. This is a decision of the utmost gravity, and one to which I devote all my available faculties.

"Every clan offers several valuable and unmatch-able services to the empire. The Crane have long served the Hantei as loyal advisors and guardians. The Lion too have provided generations of military support and advice. The empire owes no debt larger than the one earned by the Crab, who defend our borders from the army of the Dark God. But our abilities in the mystic arts would be nearly nothing if not for the efforts of the Dragon Clan, and our understanding of the elements would be woefully incomplete were it not for the Phoenix Clan. And we would still wallow in ignorance of the world beyond our borders except for the Unicorn's centuries long travel."

As Kachiko read, the representatives gave vocal recognition of the particular duties their clans gave. Sukune, being the lone Crab, grunted loudly and banged the floor in his best imitation of his father.

"Since it is impossible to choose the most deserving clan based on past service, we issue this imperial decree to say that our decision will be based on which clan can prove itself most capable of leading and governing the entire empire in our absence. We will watch the military, political, and cultural activities of all the clans over the coming months, and when one proves itself to be the superior of all the others, that is the clan to which we will entrust Rokugan's future.

"Let your victories prove your merit, and your defeats show your true value."

With that, Kachiko rolled up the scroll, bowed demurely, and rose, completely ignoring the bickering confusion that reigned among the delegates. Her handmaidens tended the hem of her kimono. The servant in the hall once again slid the shoji open, allowing the empress to exit.

Sukune shook his head ruefully.

The Crane delegation was nearly at blows with the Lion representatives. The Dragon and Phoenix envoys seemed ready to summon their sorceries. Loud disagreements, sounding more like drunken arguments than civilized debate, erupted all over the room.

Sukune knew this was only the beginning. How could any clan
prove
it was better or worthier than another except by defeating its rival? How could a clan prove its military dominance except by war?

THE LAST STRAW

This will be the end of the empire." It was not the first time Hida Kisada had spoken those words, nor the first time he believed them. But something was different this time. Today, as the setting sun threw the shadow of the Great Wall across the daimyo's command tent, everyone within believed the Great Bear was correct.

"Already there are reports of skirmishes between various clans," Sukune said. He looked unwell, as though he might pass out. After the meeting with Empress Kachiko, he had leaped on his horse and ridden hard for Crab lands, stopping only when he had to for food and rest. It took him not quite a week to make the trip but, Kisada noted, any other Crab samurai would have done it in half that time and would not have stopped for anything.

"They are testing themselves," Kisada mused, "and seeing how prepared their neighbors are for war."

It was unthinkable. Certainly, throughout Rokugan's history, there had "been conflicts between clans—some that led to bloodshed. Never before had the entire empire seemed poised on the edge of full-scale war.

Sukune staggered but caught himself.

The Great Bear grunted in disapproval. "Go get some food and sleep," he told his son disgustedly.

"I-I'm all right—" Sukune began.

"No, you're not!" Kisada said more harshly than he wanted. "You can barely stand, let alone give me useful analysis or advice. Go rest and come back at sunrise. Bring your brother and Kuni Yori with you when you return!"

"Hai!" There was no point arguing. The young samurai bowed and backed into the twilight outside the command tent.

When Sukune was gone, Kisada sighed and removed his helmet. He'd worn his full armor every day for so long that it had become like a second skin to him. He hardly even noticed it and was able to sleep comfortably in his shell of wood, metal, and leather.

Right now the helmet seemed too heavy to bear. It pressed down on the back of his neck and dragged his chin toward the ground. He ran his hand through the short-cropped mass of black and gray hair and found it slick with sweat. It had been a hot day, to be sure—the summer heat refused to break even though autumn was just a few weeks away—but the sweat was cold and smelled of fear.

Hida Kisada, the Great Bear, daimyo of the Crab Clan was afraid.

Rokugan stood on the brink of a conflict so terrible that the empire might never recover. This was the fault of one person, and one alone—Bayushi Kachiko. She orchestrated it step by step, smoothly guided the ailing emperor into just the right decisions, and manipulated every man, woman, and child in every clan into doing exactly what she wanted. The question remained,
why?

What did the Lady Scorpion gain by setting the clans against each other? She was already the empress. If she wanted to, she could have arranged for the emperor to declare
her
the heir to the throne. People would complain, but in the end no one would be able to do anything about it. What motivated her to start a civil war?

Could Kachiko be so self-absorbed, so petty, that she did all this in revenge for the death of her husband? Did she love Bayushi Shoju so deeply that she would lay the entirety of the Emerald Empire as an offering on the altar before his grave?

Or perhaps she truly was evil. Perhaps it was
Kachiko's
influence that turned the Scorpion Clan from deceptive tricksters into cold-blooded assassins. Perhaps the Lady Scorpion had formed an alliance with the Dark God, Fu Leng. Perhaps she was his agent, fomenting trouble within Rokugan to weaken the empire and make it an easier target.

In the end only Kachiko knew why she did what she did. The most the Great Bear could hope for was to see his way through the coming days with honor and grace.

The problem was, none of the other clans liked the Crab. In fact, very nearly all of them felt slighted in one way or another by his clan or himself personally. If the other daimyo had to pick which clan to attack based on pure antagonism, Kisada was certain his would be the favored target.

The Crab had the largest standing army but were spread thin along the length of the Great Wall of Kaiu. A large army could sweep over a third of the Crab positions before the rest of the Crab gathered in force. The Crab would be caught fighting a two-front battle, for the Shadowlands would certainly not curtail their assaults.