The Initiate Brother Duology (115 page)

My life will become quite simple again, she thought. I will tend the sick, I will eat and I will sleep. There will not be the turmoil and confusion of my present position. No Sisters will come to me with demands that I can not fulfill and I will not have my heart torn by growing loyalties and attachments that I am not suited to.

F
OR THOSE THAT had journeyed north in Lord Shonto’s fleet, Denji Gorge was remembered not for its unique beauty but for the days when no one had been certain what would befall those traveling with Seh’s Imperial Governor.

The country surrounding the gorge itself had changed so much in the intervening months that it was like returning to another time. Over the Imperial Guard Keep at the gorge’s northern end flew the Emperor’s banner, and the locks were administered by Imperial Functionaries and guarded by black-clad Imperial Guards. Nowhere could one find signs of the Hajiwara presence. The armor with green lacing had disappeared—unless one looked very carefully at the men who formed Lord Komawara’s guard. There, among the armor of night blue, one could find a trim of green on the occasional shoulder piece or sleeve.

All of the earthworks and fortifications constructed over the years had been dismantled and several of the larger manor houses that had been protected by moats were in the process of converting these to decorative ponds or filling them in altogether.

Arrayed along the stone quay of the northern locks were several rows of kneeling guards in purple-laced armor, hands on their thighs, faces and posture rigid. As Lord Shonto’s boat bumped up against the quay, the warriors bowed low. Out from among this group emerged a youth of such small stature that it brought a smile to the lips of all who had not previously encountered the Lord Butto Joda.

“I greet you, Lord Butto,” Shonto said from the deck. “It is a great honor to be met by such an esteemed company.”

Lord Butto gave a half bow. “The honor is mine entirely, Lord Shonto. I bring greetings from my father who asks that you forgive him for not meeting you himself.”

“Lord Butto does me great honor. I trust that he is well.”

Butto Joda gave a half nod and a smile, acknowledging the question but giving no specific answer—the senior lord of the Butto had not been well for many years.

Steps were set out and Shonto and several of his advisors disembarked.

“Certainly you remember Lord Komawara, General Hojo, and Steward Kamu?”

“I could not forget those who fought so valiantly beside the Butto. I am forever in your debt,” he said bowing. “And Brother Shuyun, he travels with you also?”

“Brother Shuyun monitors the progress of the ship bearing the sick through the locks. We are taking care that there is no transfer of disease.”

The young lord nodded. “I am less concerned knowing this.”

Jaku Katta was delivered to the quay at that moment, his sampan coming alongside the stone wall. The Imperial Guards on the quay bowed low in unison.

“General Jaku,” Lord Butto greeted him with a great smile. “I see that my concerns regarding who would control the locks were groundless.” He looked around. “There seems to be no delegation from the Imperial Governor of Itsa. New to his position, perhaps the worthy governor has not yet learned proper protocol for such occasions.”

The smiles were polite. The Governor of Itsa was no doubt under orders to detain Shonto but had not the troops to do so. Ignoring the flotilla’s passing was the only choice left to the poor man, and his situation was made worse by the fact that Imperial Guard on the canal were loyal to Jaku Katta. An appeal to the larger Houses of Itsa for assistance would have been futile as the most powerful family in the province was the Butto—sworn ally of Lord Shonto.

The group walked slowly along the quay in the direction of the gorge, the line of Butto guards bowing in turn as the party passed. On a lookout that had recently been a Hajiwara military position, mats and cushions had been spread. Calypta and willow trees coming newly into leaf shaded the
lookout from the early afternoon sun so that no awning or pavilion was necessary.

The great gorge stretched out to the south, the surface broken by the breeze and sparkling in the spring sunlight. Off the gravel bar below the fane of the lost Brothers, river craft of every type and size swung to anchors, so close together that fouling of rodes and lines must have been constant.

Along the eastern cliff more boats huddled, mooring to unseen irregularities in the rock face and countless more sailed back and forth or drifted free, unable to find anchorage or moorings. Smoke rose from many of the craft and a ragged camp had been erected on the gravel bar itself, shelters of all shapes and colors arranged in random patterns.

In contrast to this chaos of refugee craft, a line of ships in formation passed down the middle of the gorge, the foremost boats almost at the southern locks—Lord Shonto’s flotilla continuing south.

A meal was served by Butto attendants and plum wine, a gift from Lord Shonto, was poured for the young lord and his guests.

“It is unfortunate that Prince Wakaro was unable to join us,” Shonto said to Lord Butto.

Setting his wine cup down, the young lord nodded. “Most unfortunate. I had the honor of entertaining the Prince on his journey north. He was most kind.”

Lifting his cup to Komawara and Jaku in turn, Butto Joda said, “I have heard tales of your recent exploits, Lord Komawara, General. It was a bold stroke—a frontal attack on the barbarians’ supply train.” He gave a half bow. “Your reputations have become great. I consider it an honor to join you in your struggle.” He bowed also to Hojo.

“This barbarian force,” the young lord continued, “has divided, I am told, and a part of it is now in close pursuit?”

Shonto nodded at Hojo.

General Hojo bowed. “There is a force of about twenty-five thousand not far behind and they come slightly closer each day—the number of refugee craft fleeing south is slowing our progress.” Hojo stroked the gray hair of his beard, staring out over the gorge. “This is becoming a cause of some concern.”

Butto Joda nodded. “I have considered this situation myself. I have taken the liberty of allowing no boats to pass through the southern locks for six days past. River craft accumulate in the gorge at an alarming rate, but the
canal south is now open for many rih. In a letter, Lord Shonto suggested that we prepare this set of locks so that, once your fleet has passed, it would take engineers of great skill to restore them to use. These measures, General Hojo, should improve the speed at which you travel and, at the same time, impede the progress of your pursuers.” He held up his cup. “This is excellent wine. Does it come from Seh?”

*   *   *

Shimeko had slept three nights on the deck to be away from the endless coughing and the odors of the sick. Although she had often treated the sick before, she had been too young to minister to those stricken by the plague during the previous outbreak. It was a frightening disease, so she spent as much time out in the fresh air as her duties would allow.

Upwind, and not far off, a small boat sailed a parallel course and aboard it, standing at the rail as she did herself, Shimeko could see Initiate Brother Shuyun. The distance was such that, had they attempted to speak, they could not have heard each other over the wind and boat sounds nor could the other’s expression be seen. To the former nun this distance seemed great—as great as the distance between her present life and her days as a Botahist nun. Did she still hope he was the Teacher and would help her find tranquillity of purpose again?

She looked off to the south where the locks awaited them. She was a healer now and though it was a simple life, as she had hoped, the confusion she had felt in Lady Nishima’s service had not disappeared.

Earlier the plague ship had passed the fane of the Brothers of the Eightfold Path—the Faceless Lovers. It had been difficult to view the figures, for she did not want to be seen looking at something so unseemly. Even so, she had managed a glance or two. Thoughts of Lady Nishima with Brother Shuyun would not leave her in peace.

*   *   *

The wind moved the pine branches in slow circles, constantly spoiling Rohku Tadamori’s view of the advancing army. The young guard officer had abandoned his blue-laced armor in favor of the brown and green garb of the huntsmen and this clothing helped to camouflage him where he lay. The forest floor was cooled by occasional rain and the consistent wind out of the east, and Tadamori found that his muscles were growing stiff.

The
small army,
as it was becoming known, traveled at a pace that was impressive. Even those born of the desert could learn the handling of rafts,
and the crude sails the pirates had fabricated from bamboo cloth were surprisingly efficient with such a fair wind. Horsemen still rode along the bank but they led strings of the barbarian ponies which were able to cover much more ground without riders. Constant changing of mounts for the riders was required, but this was not difficult.

There was no doubt in Tadamori’s mind that the small army was gaining on Lord Shonto’s flotilla. Occasional refugees were being overtaken by the barbarians now, and the Shonto guard did not like to contemplate what might happen to them—especially the women.

The huntsman who was Tadamori’s companion touched his arm and cocked his head toward the passing army. Among the hundreds of rafts one came into view bearing banners, some gold and crimson. Tadamori and his companion had hidden themselves atop a hill overlooking the canal from the west, but they were still half a rih from the bank—close enough to assess the army but not able to see who its leaders might be.

The question in the minds of the two men of Wa was: does the Khan lead this expeditionary force? If the great chieftain had taken it upon himself to pursue the retreating army, then Lord Shonto might consider a battle. It was believed likely that the Khan was the only force that held the various tribes together. Brother Shuyun’s barbarian servant was utterly convinced that without the Khan the natural rivalry between the tribes would soon lead to the dissolution of the great army if not an outright war between the factions.

Rohku reached up and stopped the branch from blocking his view. It was difficult to say. Almost certainly that was the Khan’s banner, but then the Emperor’s banner was seen over all of Wa, above Imperial Keeps and palaces of government. This might be the banner of the desert chieftain, but the Khan himself might be here only in spirit. It would be the worst foolishness for the men of Wa to destroy their army fighting this force and find the Khan was not present. Foolish indeed.

*   *   *

It had been seven years since the Supreme Master had set foot on the land of Wa. Normally his arrival was heralded by celebration and ceremony and pilgrims would come from across the Empire just to kneel outside the temple grounds in which he resided. On this journey, however, the Supreme Master came quietly, if not quite secretly. His ship arrived in Yankura without gaining any notice, and the head of the Botahist Brotherhood boarded a smaller boat that bore him swiftly to the Jade Temple.

Peering out a slit between the curtains the Supreme Master watched the activity of the Floating City. The canals and docks and quays teemed with people in motion, for Yankura was the center of shipping and commerce in the Empire of Wa and it appeared never to rest. Such lack of tranquillity, the monk thought, how can they live such lives? Even more to the point, how did Brother Hutto live in the midst of this? It was not conducive to the contemplation of Botahara’s words, there was no doubt of that.

Botahara’s words were more on the Supreme Master’s mind recently—His true words. The blossoming of the Udumbara, the missing scrolls—these matters disturbed even his sleep. And now news of this barbarian invasion. He had returned to Wa as soon as word had arrived on the first ship of spring.

There was about to be war with an army that did not even know the words of the Perfect Master, a dynasty might fall, civil war was almost certain, and the Shonto House seemed likely to finally suffer the fate that overtook all other Houses—extinction.

Small river craft of all description lay alongside the quay, loading cargo from the great stone warehouses. In the midst of this a ragged child wriggled out of an open port and was spotted by a river man who sent up a shout. Jumping to the next boat, the child was barely able to grab the rail. Shouts echoed the alarm as the child pulled himself up onto the deck. Scrambling over stacked boxes, he leaped an open hatch and dodged a burly sailor. Holding something in his robe, he made another impossible jump to the quay where it seemed certain he would disappear into the clutter and the uncaring crowd.

The Supreme Master watched in fascination. Suddenly a man appeared from behind a pile of sacks and the child ran into him head-on, allowing one of his pursuers to grab him by the hair. A wild struggle ensued until the much larger man landed a blow that drove the child to his knees, and a series of punches and kicks left the child an unmoving pile of rags on the stones.

The scene was lost to view then and the Supreme Master slumped back against the cushions, fixed in his mind was the image of triumph on the man’s face as he beat the child to the ground.
And this is what I have come to,
the old monk thought,
a brutal, violent land.