Spirit's Princess (35 page)

And then what?
I thought.
We have no shaman. Who will ask the gods to welcome Yama’s spirit? Who will purify our clan from the touch of death?

That evening, Yukari ordered me to give her my dress and to take one of her old ones in its place. “Look at how filthy it is,” she said, pointing at the stains I’d gathered from sitting in the wet dirt in Yama’s doorway. “And it smells. I’ll wash it for you, but you need something suitable to wear tomorrow.”

“It wouldn’t look like that if Himiko hadn’t been sitting in mud for so long.” Mama looked at me with pity in her eyes. “My poor little girl, you thought you could have saved Lady Yama, and it broke your heart when she died. How
awful it would be if you had to lead a real healer’s life. I don’t think you could stand it. It’s easy enough when you succeed, but when you do all you can and people die anyway? Be glad that you won’t have to deal with such a burden anymore.” She kissed me and then turned her attention to Noboru, who wanted to be fed. I doubt she gave another thought to what she’d said.

I couldn’t say the same about me. My mother’s words haunted me that night, when I lay down to sleep and found that I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing Yama’s face in the darkness.
“How awful it would be if you had to lead a real healer’s life.”
Mama’s words rang like the ghost of a bronze bell, and Yama’s phantom face opened its eyes to gaze into mine and say,
How long will you deny your true self, Himiko? I was wrong to tell you to slink into the shadows, but I feared too much. I should have brought you into the light, and never mind what your father would have said! But if you stay hidden now, it’s your own doing, and if you stay hidden too long, you won’t be a real healer, you won’t be a real shaman, you won’t be real at all
.

I lurched up from my bedroll, fully awake, staring at ghosts and memories. I was panting as though I’d run all the way home from the rice paddies, and my body was streaming with sweat. Somewhere out there in the night, Yama’s body lay under the warm soil, her spirit already well on its way into the land that lay beyond the life we knew. She was free, and her soul had merged with the harmony of earth and water, wind and stars, but her death was the touch of a spreading sickness that would contaminate our clan unless someone acted soon to cleanse us.

I arose in the dark and found my old, soiled dress. Yukari
hadn’t taken it away quite yet. I slipped it on like a whisper and crept out of our doorway, feeling cautiously for the ladder. The village slept as I made my way to Yama’s house. I paused for a while before going in, remembering my teacher, my friend. Raising my hands solemnly, I clapped them together twice, just enough to make a sound that wouldn’t reach the ears of those asleep in the nearest houses.

There was no light to guide me once I went inside. All that relieved the blackness was the faint glimmer of stars and the waning moon shining through the smoke hole in the roof. That was enough for me. The interior of Yama’s house was as familiar to me as the shape of my mother’s face. My hands had arranged all the shaman’s possessions. I knew where everything was. Within those walls, I could have found whatever I wanted even if darkness in the house were absolute.

I moved as quickly as I could, gathered the few things I needed, and stepped into the open air again. I wasn’t hurrying out of fear. An encounter with Yama’s spirit would have been a comfort to me. Somehow I just couldn’t picture her as an angry ghost, and I would have welcomed the chance of being haunted by the sound of her wry wisdom and familiar chuckle. But all that lingered under her roof were memories and loss.

Night was growing paler when I emerged from the shaman’s house and put down the things I’d taken. I laid them out in an orderly row. One of the first lessons Yama had taught me was the importance of honoring the balance of
existence, and neatness was part of that balance. I had salt, a bowl, a little jug of rice wine, and one of Yama’s bronze bells. I’d had to fill the bowl with water from the shaman’s house rather than living water from a stream, because there wasn’t time for that. Besides, I didn’t want to risk being stopped and questioned by one of my clanfolk while trying to leave our village. I hoped the gods would understand.

The last thing necessary for my work was a branch of evergreen. That was close at hand, and soon I was kneeling before the shaman’s gaping doorway with a fragrant twig from our guardian pine tree clasped tight in my fingers. Before I began the rite, something impelled me to take my dragon stone amulet from my neck and lay it on the ground just outside Yama’s house. That same impulse had me draw the keepsake wand of cherrywood from my belt and bundle it with the pine branch. Putting them to one side, I clapped my hands softly to beg the gods to attend what I was about to do, and opened my heart to their presence.

I had to proceed as fast as I could, to avoid being caught, and yet I had to honor the sacred nature of purification by following each step of the rite with the proper reverence. At first, my thoughts darted here and there between
Hurry, hurry, hurry before someone sees you!
and
Peace, peace, the spirits can’t be rushed. What you do here isn’t some crime to be hastened into hiding, but a holy thing
. As I swept away the presence of uncleanliness with the fresh green needles of the pine branch and sprinkled earth and air with salt, water, and wine, I let go of my fear of discovery and gave myself entirely to the rhythm of the words I chanted for the gods.

At last, I reached for the bronze bell. I raised it to the heavens, where daylight was beginning to glow. The images of deer and wild boar circling it danced in the light, and my spirit danced with them. For the first time in my life, I had performed a shaman’s ritual, and every step of it seemed to fall gently onto my shoulders like the sweet warmth of the sun. What I had done for Yama’s spirit and for my people felt as right, as balanced, and as natural as breathing, or the sight of tranquil mountains bathed in mist, or love.

I held the bell in one hand, my wand in the other, and poised myself to strike a note whose echoes would cleanse and sanctify us all.

“Himiko! What do you think you’re doing?” Father’s voice boomed through the cool morning air. His hand closed on my shoulder, forcing me to turn and face him. Startled, I dropped the bell. It uttered a choked clang when it hit the ground. His eyes skimmed the array of vessels I’d laid out for the purification rite. “What is all this? Speak!”

An excuse began to form on my lips. My thoughts sped to create some plausible reason that would cloak the real purpose of what I’d done. If worse came to worst, I could always use Yama as a way to escape responsibility:
“Our shaman told me to do this for her if she died. I don’t know what it all means. I was only following her orders, because I was afraid that if I didn’t, her ghost would punish me!”

I bit my lip and swallowed the cowardly words. With my eyes looking straight into Father’s livid face, I said, “I was performing a ritual of purification for this place, the way Lady Yama taught me. Please let me finish it.”

“A ritual? How can
you
perform a shaman’s work?”

I kept my voice level and didn’t drop my gaze. “I can because I
am
a shaman, Father. I have the knowledge even though I’m new to using it. But I do know what I’m doing.”

“You’re
doing
nothing. You’re playing games, like a little girl with her doll!”

I ignored his barb. “This isn’t play. Lady Yama took me as her apprentice years ago.”

“Her apprentice …” Father’s jaw was tight. His words were bones grinding together, heavy with the dark power of a curse. “Is it true? Did she go behind my back like that when she knew I’d have forbidden it? For her to do something so deceitful, so dishonorable, so
vile
—!”

I couldn’t control myself any longer. “She was
not
vile!” I cried, bringing my face within a hand’s span of his. “How dare you say such things about her?”

“Is that how you choose to speak to me?” His voice became the hiss of a serpent’s belly passing over sand. “Did she teach you to regard your father, your
chieftain
, with so much scorn? May the gods repay her for turning my precious daughter into—into
this
.” He waved one hand at me as if banishing something shameful from his sight.

I sucked in my breath, ready to scream my indignation at him for speaking so cruelly about my beloved teacher. Before I could unleash my anger, a realization pulled me back:
What good will it do to answer his rage with more rage? If we both shout, who’s left to listen?

I dropped to my knees and bent my forehead to the earth. “Father, hear me, please.
Hear
me! I could never scorn
you. You have my love, my gratitude, and my respect, now and always.” I lifted my face. “But I must respect who I am too.”

“Ridiculous,” he spat. “You’re a child. You sway like a willow branch in every breeze. You think you’re a shaman because that old woman
let
you think it, telling you false tales that made you feel important. Don’t you see why she did it? To tie you to her! If she’d had children of her own, she wouldn’t have needed to steal my daughter and fill your ears with foolish notions. Get up, Himiko. Get up, put away this”—he gestured impatiently at the things I’d used to perform the ceremony—“this clutter, and go home. Go home
now
!”

I remained where I was, palms against the ground. Father’s hard words grew louder and louder in my ears, but made no impact.
So much shouting
, I thought.
But he wouldn’t need to shout at all if what he says were true. The truth can be told in a whisper. The truth is here
.

As I pressed my hands to the earth, I could feel the pulse of life running through the ground, the countless stirrings of seed and soil, of thriving plants, humming insects, the rustle of the mouse under the grass, the song of the mother for her infant. Go home? I was home. I knew it as surely as I knew that he was wrong: I was not a child, not anymore.

“The ceremony isn’t finished,” I told him calmly. “I’ll clear away my things after I’m done.” I reached for the bell.

He snatched it up just as my fingers brushed it. “You’ll do as you’re told!”

I got to my feet and stared at him. “Yes, I will.”
But not by you
, I thought.

I turned away and ducked into Yama’s house before he could react. Our shaman owned more than one sacred bell just as she owned more than one mirror. It was the work of a moment to lay hands on what I needed and to strike the concluding note of the ritual. I emerged from the doorway while the echoes of that rich, centering sound still hung on the air.

“I had to do that, Father,” I said. “I am a shaman, whether you like it or not, and I can’t walk away with a rite left unfinished. I don’t know why the thought of my being Lady Yama’s heir is so hateful to you, but that’s what I am, just as you are our chieftain. Neither one of us can change that, and would we? Our clan needs us both. If something’s happened to Master Michio, if Aki and the others can’t find him and bring him back, what will become of the Matsu? Who’ll look after our clanfolk, body and soul? I don’t care if you hate what I’ve become, Father, but accept it. Accept
me
.”

Father glared at me. He didn’t respond to what I’d said, but I could feel the heat of his stifled fury beating against me in waves. I didn’t look away. I counted ten breaths until he broke the bond of silent challenge between us, dropped the sacred bell in the dirt, and walked away without another word.

I picked up all the things I’d taken from Yama’s house, put them in their proper places, and went home. When I came in, Mama glanced up from nursing Noboru and gave
me a questioning look, but I let it pass and began helping Yukari make breakfast. Father wasn’t there. That was expected—daybreak had come, and as chieftain, he had many duties to perform. I decided not to think about our encounter until our paths crossed again.

That was a strange day for me, for my family, and for all our kin. We were a clan in mourning, our lives in suspension until we could be purified. No one dared to do anything but the most vital tasks, for fear that the taint of death would contaminate whatever we touched. We didn’t work in the fields, we didn’t hunt, we heard no sound of industry from the potter’s house or the blacksmith’s forge. Many people stayed inside, speaking in whispers. Those who had to leave their homes wore garments made of hemp, just as we’d worn when Yukari and Emi lost their other babies.

Sundown fell, and Father didn’t come home. Mama and my stepmothers became more and more nervous as the darkness outside grew deeper and there was still no sign of him. Our dinner was laid out but untouched. When little Sanjirou began to whine, Emi scolded him so ferociously that the child burrowed under the nearest bedroll and chewed his fist, too scared to cry. I tried to comfort him, but all he did was quiver and try to creep farther away.

Masa watched my efforts and exclaimed, “That’s enough!” He slapped his thighs and stood up. “I won’t sit here like a rabbit in its nest while my little brother’s so miserable. I’m going to find Father
now
.” He stalked out of the house. We heard him grumbling all the way down the ladder.

He was back before we succeeded in coaxing Sanjirou out of hiding. One of the clan nobles was with him. Masa
looked a bit sheepish as he explained that he’d run into the man about ten strides from our home. “Father sent him.”

The noble wore the serious expression of someone who considers himself as important as the news he brings. “Our chieftain has gone from the village. He’s taken a small escort and won’t be back until he’s found the first party sent to fetch our new shaman or until he has found Master Michio himself. While he is gone, Lord Masa is his voice within the clan. I have further instructions and commands for his ears alone, and for the council of nobles to hear tomorrow.”

Having formally delivered the burden of Father’s message, he relaxed visibly and added, “Please don’t worry about your husband, ladies. He’ll be back among us before you know it. If there’s anything you need while he’s gone, call on me.” We thanked him and he took his leave, with Masa following.