Spirit's Princess (21 page)

I inclined my head slightly. “I’ll do as you say, Lady Yama.”

“Good. That will save us from wasting time wrangling over trifles. I can’t keep you here forever, Himiko, and I shouldn’t. Your mother brought you to me to be healed, but I can only do so much to make you well again. The most
important part of your healing must come from your own efforts. Unless you put yourself to the test, you’ll never know if you’ve succeeded.”

“Or failed,” I said.

Yama gave me a funny look, then got up and fetched something from the shelf holding the supplies she used to make her potions. “Here.” She dropped the item into my empty rice bowl.

“What’s this?” I asked, picking it out carefully for examination. It looked like a smooth brown pebble, the size of my smallest fingernail.

“A seed, a special seed. The gods gave it to me when I first became the shaman of this clan. They came to me while I was deep in trance and offered it to me. The trouble was, they’d had it for so long that they’d forgotten what sort of plant might spring from it. Some of them swore that if I planted it, it would become an enchanted tree whose branches would bear every kind of fruit throughout the year. But there were others who shook their heads and said it would be unwise to plant it, since they were certain it would bring forth a weird, straggling, scrawny bush covered with sickly yellow buds, and that every few moments, those buds would burst open with the sound and stink of … a fart.”

I giggled. “That’s not true.”

“Want to find out?” Yama said. “Plant the seed. Or don’t. Why should the gods care if you’re too timid to reach for success because you’re too afraid of failure? But don’t ask me to tell you what to do. I don’t give a fart.”

This time I fell over backward laughing at the shaman’s
salty language, and the “magic” seed was lost. I think it was just a pebble after all.

The seven days I spent in isolation under Yama’s roof were divided among the same household chores I’d done at home, lessons in the various skills the shaman had mastered, and times of much silence and little talk, when she guided me in my first steps along the path that led from the noise and bustle of the human world deep into the veiled and dreamlike kingdom of the spirits.

It was not an easy path to follow. Like a firefly, it showed me only small, erratic glimpses of its presence. At times, I would sit in silence, my sight turned inward, my mind cleared of all distracting thoughts, only to remain gazing into emptiness. Other times, I’d no sooner close my eyes than an otherworldly scene would reveal itself to me with such force and beauty that it made me gasp, but before I could take one step into that place of shimmering mists, unimaginably brilliant colors, and half-heard whispers of mysterious song, my eyes would snap open and everything was gone.

On our sixth day together, I asked Yama to explain why my attempts at seeking out the spirits had such erratic, unsatisfactory ends. I did my best to keep from sounding like a spoiled child whining because dinner wasn’t ready when he wanted it
now
, but I don’t think I succeeded.

“If that’s how patient you are, thank the gods you were never a hunter,” she said curtly.

I blushed. I didn’t
think
she’d known about my aspirations to join Aki on the trail of game, but then again, our shaman did say she was always watching her people. She
might have seen the longing in my eyes whenever Aki or the other hunters marched out of our village and returned in triumph, to feasting and praise.

“I’m sorry, Lady Yama. I’ll do better.”

“You
are
doing better, Himiko,” she told me. “Better at listening to me, and to yourself. If I’ve done nothing else for you, I can take pride in that, at least. If it’s any comfort to you, you should know that neither I nor my half brother Michio was immediately able to master the art of listening. In fact, it took him longer than me, though I believe he was better at it, in the long run.”

“Michio?” I vaguely recalled her mentioning him, but knowing there was no Michio in our village, I concluded that there could be only one reason.

“Why are you looking at me with such melancholy eyes, child?” the shaman asked curtly. “Michio’s not
dead
, he’s just”—she waved one hand—“following his path elsewhere. Who ever heard of a village with two shamans?”

“Don’t you miss him?”

“Not when I can summon him back with a memory. For instance, if he were here right now, I can hear exactly what he’d tell you about learning how to listen: ‘No one likes to speak and be ignored. That’s a poison strong enough to eat its way through friendships, marriages, families, even clans. Always listen, but above all, hear yourself.’ ” She smiled. “That’s what my half brother would say, and we’d all do well to heed him.”

The following day, our shaman handed me a cloth sling and led me out of the gates, away from the fields, and up the
forested slope that rose behind our village. A light, warm, steady rain was falling, and when I looked back downhill at the rice paddies, I saw scraps of haze drifting lazily over them. I thought we were going to collect ingredients for Yama’s healing brews, but to my surprise she kept climbing the mountainside, never even pausing at clumps of plants whose flowers, or leaves, or roots I’d seen carefully arrayed on the shelf or hanging in bunches from the ceiling.

She stopped at a small clearing where the trees outlined a crescent of grass. A flat, moss-furred rock lay in the center of that miniature meadow, and for an instant I thought that the round white object atop it was a human skull. A step closer and I saw that the rain had played tricks on my eyes: it was only another rock.

“Scary-looking, isn’t it?” Yama said, chuckling. “Those cavities in it complete the illusion a little too well. It scared
me
the day I found it. We’d had a bad year—far too many deaths, including our chieftess, Lady Tsuki—so I’d gone into the burial ground to appease the dead. When I saw it lying so near her tomb, I was afraid she’d sent it as a warning. Hmm, no, more likely as a
threat
, considering that one’s ways when she was still alive. A more envious creature never lived. She’s the one who ‘suggested’ that my half brother leave the village, and—Well, never mind. I soon saw my mistake”—she gestured toward the white rock—“and felt very foolish. Now I keep it to remind me that anyone can be deceived and humbled, and also that the gods can have a wicked sense of humor.” She smiled at me. “So can I. I was sure you’d squeal when you saw it, but I’m glad you didn’t.
You’ll put me to shame yet, Himiko. Now go closer and see what lies beneath that … ‘skull.’ ”

I did as she said, feeling the rain-soaked grass underfoot, then the gentle caress of moss. Bending forward, I lifted the uncanny-looking rock with both hands and saw a flash of iridescent gold, sparkling and bright even under those thickly clouded skies.

“My dragon stone!” I exclaimed, for that was how I’d named it in my heart since the night Yama gave it back to me.

But it wasn’t the same. Now the shining stone was set into an artfully wrought charm made of clay and twined with wires of silver and gold. A skilled hand had molded the figure of a beautiful woman whose arms cradled the dragon stone. The whole talisman was no bigger than the circle made when I touched my thumb to the tip of my forefinger, yet every detail of that splendid lady’s face and form was exquisitely made.

“How did you do this, Lady Yama?” I breathed, entranced. “I kept this stone with me always—”

“—in your bedroll with that sprig of cherrywood you treasure,” Yama concluded. “I took it from its hiding place twice—once a few days ago to make an impression of it in a bit of wet clay, and once yesterday, when it was time for it to be placed in its proper setting. You never suspected it was missing either time. Our village potter does good work, doesn’t she?”

I studied the serene face of the woman cradling the golden stone and felt the same sense of awe as when I gazed at the heavens and saw the sweep of the scattered stars, the
cool tranquillity of the moon, or the glorious light of the sun in all her majesty.

And here in my hand I held a woman who held the sun.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “Very good.”

We walked back to the village, gathering the plants that Yama had ignored on the way up the mountain. I did most of the work because her hands were full, carrying the grisly-looking white rock. “I hope the rain lets up,” she confided in me. “I want lots of our people to be able to come out of their houses and see
this
.” She tapped the “skull” right between its fake eye sockets.

I couldn’t imagine why, and said so.

“Why else? To let them remember who it is that stands between them and the spirits of the angry dead. When you become a shaman, my little Himiko, you should remember that a thousand healings won’t earn you as much respect as the threat of a single curse.”

I frowned. “I’d never do that. It sounds too much like what—” I paused, searching for the unfamiliar name I’d heard so recently. “It sounds like something Lady Tsuki would do!”

“Ah. And you don’t want to be like her, eh? If your father could hear that—hear it
and
believe it—we wouldn’t have to worry about how to go on with your training.”

“Then why don’t I
tell
him?” I said. Oh, how marvelous it would be if I could come and go as I liked to continue my studies! These past few days had awakened a deep, true calling in me. Now I could no more abandon dreams of my apprenticeship with Yama than I could give up the hope of winning back Aki’s affection or of seeing Kaya again.

Yama took a deep breath. “Himiko …”

Suddenly I realized my mistake. I stopped in my tracks and bowed deeply to our shaman. “I’m sorry, Lady Yama. I know that I can’t do that. You said he had to hear that I didn’t want to be like Lady Tsuki and
believe
it. We can’t depend on that, can we? I’ll say nothing, I swear.”

The disappointed look fled Yama’s face. “You
have
learned how to listen! Now the rest of what I have to teach you will be nothing but details.”

That evening, she insisted on preparing a dinner that was more lavish than usual and heaped my rice with the best pieces of meat and vegetables. There was even some leftover honeycomb, though not enough for two. She wouldn’t let me refuse it. Afterward, she produced a clay jar of rice wine and poured us two small cups to celebrate my great achievement. Though I didn’t quite understand why learning how to listen was worthy of so much fuss—it was important, yes, but
that
important?—I accepted the wine and her praise joyfully. I can’t say which of the two made my head spin more.

In the morning, she told me to pick up my bedroll and my few belongings. “You’re going home.”

“Now?” I was dumbfounded. I’d been given no hint, no warning. Had last night’s festive meal actually been intended to celebrate my departure? Tears blurred my eyes.

“Oh, little one, don’t look at me like a motherless fawn,” Yama chided gently. “You’ll be back under this roof many times. Your studies must and will continue.”

“How? Father won’t—”

“You let me worry about him. You have your own task
ahead: the completion of your healing. I’ve given you the tools to attain it, but you must be the one to use them. I don’t pour out good rice wine for nothing, you know!”

I started to object. I wanted to exclaim,
But
you’re
the healer, Lady Yama, not me!
Instead, my thoughts once again curbed my tongue.
Listen, Himiko!
I told myself.
She says that you’ll return, that you must go on learning the way of the spirits. Believe it! Put your faith in her words. Try to be the one who heals your own sorrow
.

I smiled wholeheartedly. “It will be good to go home.”

And it was. Yama walked me back to my father’s house and announced our arrival by shouting from the bottom of the ladder. Emi came rushing to the edge of the platform. When she saw me standing beside the shaman, my bedroll tucked under my arm, her face was transformed with joy. She flew down the ladder and embraced me as though I’d been gone seven full turns of the seasons instead of only seven days.

“Is it true, Lady Yama?” she cried. “She’s well enough to come home? To
stay
home?”

“Well, I doubt you want her to stay home
forever
. You know that won’t happen with a pretty little thing like her,” the shaman replied. “But she’s well enough to return for now. There was a dark spirit weighing her down, one that stole all the pleasure of life from her. I like to think we sent it so far away it will never come back to trouble her. What do you say to that, Himiko?” she asked, patting me on the shoulder.

“I hope so,” I replied, smiling.

“Oh, this is marvelous!” Emi exclaimed. “I can’t wait for the rest of the family to come home and see you. They’re all in the fields today, even Masa.”

“Oh no! Did he do something wrong? Did the blacksmith send him away?” I asked urgently. I prayed it wasn’t so. Masa loved the forge dearly! I could understand his feelings better now that I had found the place where I belonged and the path that had always been right for me to follow.

“Dear one, don’t worry,” Emi said, pressing her cheek to mine. “It’s just that today’s field work needs every hand available. The canals have grown thick with sediment and plants. They must be cleaned or the rice will die of thirst. I’d be there myself, except …” Her voice trailed off. She turned her head aside, but not before I caught the look of sadness in her eyes.

Yama drew Emi toward her. “It didn’t work?” she asked quietly. Emi shook her head. “Then we will try again, when you’re ready. Bring me no thanksgiving gift until you hold something in your arms worth thanking me for.”

“Can I go to the paddies?” I asked. “I want to help clear the canals.”

Emi stared at me, pleased and bewildered. I understood: it had been a long time since she’d seen me so lively. She hadn’t been there on my lone day in the fields with Mama. “Why, yes, Himiko, I think that would be all right.”