L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane (10 page)

Hoturi strode on.

The sensei was forced to leap down the stairs to catch up. "You haven't even opened it. She could be telling you of a death at court. She could be . . ." At once lost for words, Toshimoko stepped in front of Hoturi, kneeling and forcing the Crane Champion to stop. "By Lord Kakita himself, Hoturi. Who knows what that viper wants? Burn the letter. Better yet, I'll burn it for you."

"No, Sensei." Hoturi's voice was firm.

"Hoturi-sarna ..."

"Don't kneel to me, Sensei. You've enough at stake here to stand."

Toshimoko nearly leapt to his feet. "It is a trap. She is mistress of lies. Kachiko has never forgiven the Crane for our part in the death of her clan."

"Those deaths were commanded by her husband, the emperor. She cannot condemn us for his orders. And now she controls his motions, keeping his schedule light so that he will not be further burdened by insignificant delays."

"Ten years, and more, Hoturi, since you and she . . ." The sentence trailed away as Hoturi's eyes turned to ice.

Toshimoko whispered, "What can she want with you now, if not treachery?"

For a moment, Hoturi looked as exhausted as Daidoji Kugai had, kneeling on the threshold of his chambers. His gray eyes darkened, and pale hair shook about his shoulders. With a precise, slow motion, he offered the thin parchment to his sensei, lowering the letter so the mon was clearly visible on the folded sheets. "Open it."

"Floturi . . ." Toshimoko shook his head, the long braid ihumping lightly against his muscular shoulder blades. "I know what happened between you, before Kachiko was married. Half the court of the empire knew. You didn't exactly make it a secret." The steel in Hoturi's back stiffened, and the young champion half-turned to leave. "Student, listen. Understand. What was between you ... has died." Lowering his voice, the old Kakita nodded his head gently. "It died on the day we took Otosan Uchi."

"Open it." Emotionless. "She wants to see me. She will see me, and when 1 am there, I will speak to the emperor and force the Lion to retreat by the command of the Imperial Hantei." His eyes narrowed, and his hand clenched into a fist. For a moment, Toshimoko could see the boiling anger behind Hoturi's gray eyes. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it faded and was gone. "And once they have retreated, Toshimoko, we will destroy them."

It was a statement of fact, not a boast, nor merely the words of a man hoping for the best, and the sensei knew it.

"Go ahead, Toshimoko. It doesn't matter what it says. I do not have to hear the words to know her mind. And when you are done, burn it if you wish. It makes no difference to me." The letter began to fall from Doji Hoturi's hand, and Toshimoko reached to take it. "There is nothing you can say or do, Sensei, that will instruct me in this. I am going to Otosan Uchi, and I will convince her to let me see the Hantei emperor."

As his student pushed past him, Toshimoko felt the light weight of the letter in his hand. For a moment, staring at Hoturi's retreating form, he felt age settle into his bones, shifting beneath layers of callused and weathered skin. The beat of his heart seemed distant, and he felt its echo in Hoturi's fading footsteps. For a moment, he considered throwing the letter into the fireplace nearby, watching its precise calligraphy twist and burn in effigy. Imagining her face charred by the fire.

Toshimoko shook his head, clearing it of anger and hatred. Those were not the ways to enlightenment, nor were they the virtues of the Kakita Academy that he struggled to uphold. Calmness replaced doubt. Years of discipline tore away the veil of emotion.

Patiently, Toshimoko opened the parchment, breaking the delicate seal and listening to the faint crumble of rice paper beneath his hands. Two lines of calligraphy blackened the white paper.

My Lord of the Crane,

Your presence is requested in the Imperial Palace at your earliest convenience.

No formal name had been signed to the thin rice paper, but the mon of the Imperial House had been imprinted into the delicate weave, marking its contents as the true words of a member of the Flantei family. It had to have come from Kachiko.

"Damn the woman," Toshimoko said, dropping the paper into the flames. "And damn the man."

As the paper blackened and curled, he could almost hear her laughter.

xxxxxxxx

Two days passed as guests made their way out of the Kakita provinces, two days of enduring courtly farewells.

When the last guests had gone, Hoturi spoke alone with Daidoji Uji, his most trusted lieutenant. It was time to leave, and Hoturi would not see a minute wasted. Each moment that passed was one more step for the Lion troops, one more heimin killed by the Matsu.

"Sir," Uji said as he saddled Hoturi's shaggy pony. "I feel I must warn you. There is danger along the roads to Otosan Uchi. The Lion may have heard that you are leaving. A troop of Daidoji guardsmen ..."

"Would only make travel slower and more difficult," he cut in. "No, Uji-san, this is a journey I must make without your men."

Evening hung thickly about them, and Kyuden Kakita's white walls were shadowed in the first touches of twilight. Even the heimin servants had been dismissed. Only the lights of the castle gleamed palely in the night sky.

"I don't presume to judge your commands, my lord." The Daidoji shoved a lock of his unruly black hair behind his ear. Without his helm and the leather mask, Uji seemed almost common. His narrow eyes could be mistaken for those of any other samurai, but the serpentine movements of his hands as he talked gave away his true nature. "But you may be in danger."

"My sword is enough."

"For one, perhaps. Or three. But a command of troops? If you were to be captured ..."

Hoturi checked the pony's gear carefully, tugging at the straps that held the thick cotton saddlebags to the wooden curve of the saddle. "If I travel with even ten men, the Lion will know it. I wish to reach the Imperial City without their interference. The only way to do that is to hide my passage."

"Yes, my lord." Uji's voice was sullen but contained. The silence in the empty courtyard was cold, and the open gates of Kyuden Kakita gleamed faintly in the dull light of the half-moon. Hoturi glanced once more at the palace, wishing

Toshimoko had come to bid him fareweli. There was no sign of his old sensei.

Always clever, Uji nodded. "He left this afternoon, my lord. Claimed to be on his way to visit a sick relative."

Hoturi grunted, "Sick, by Doji's armor. He went to the geisha houses in Osuka village, and we all know it."

"As you say, Lord Champion. Have a good journey." Uji held the pony's reins as Hoturi stepped into the saddle, drawing his cloak and hood tightly around his face. The cotton was brown rather than the blue of the Crane, to hide his identity as he rode north. Although the lands between Kyuden Kakita and Otosan Uchi were controlled by the Crane, Hoturi would take no chances.

"Traitors hide behind masks and mon," he whispered, looking up once more at the palace.

Of course she was there. Her hair loosed for rest, she stood on their balcony and held a small fan in her ivory hands. She did not look down at him—it might have drawn attention from the few other visitors left in the days after the festival—but stared quietly at the moon above.

"Guard her for me, Uji-san."

"Yes, Lord Doji. She will come to no harm."

Hoturi looked toward his wife's silent form and thought, I wish I could love you. Then he turned his pony and pressed his heels to its furred sides.

As his pony trotted amiably along the forest path, Hoturi wished he had one of the rolling steeds of the Unicorn. Their tall legs and agile movements gave the Unicorn an advantage in battle, and they were far easier to ride than the stubby ponies the other clans bred. The sons of Shinjo were notoriously jealous of their steeds, and few were ever allowed outside their far northern provinces. A shame. With one of their kind, the ride to Otosan Uchi would have taken half as long.

Frustrated, Hoturi kicked the pony into a faster pace, hoping to arrive at a travelers' grove by midnight. From there, he would trek northward for a week, more if Lion agents watched the main causeways, and longer still if the villages along the way were infested with plague.

He rode in silence, allowing the pony to choose its path and settling into the gentle movement of a long night's ride.

Sometime later, a faint light spilled across the dirt road, casting twisted shadows from the trees. Hoturi paused his steed and slid from the saddle, checking his sword to be certain it was ready. Leading his pony forward, he glanced into the clearing, expecting to see a small caravan or a group of merchants resting for a long journey north.

Toshimoko's voice called from the fireside, "You're late, student, and your food's nearly cold. I expect you'll clear the pony after dinner, so come and eat while you can." Without even a trace of his whimsical smile, he held out a bowl of steaming soup and tapped the coals with a hickory branch.

"Old fool. If I'd known, I would have ordered you to stay at the palace."

"Perhaps I'm an old fool," the man smiled, "but I'm here to make sure you live to be one as well."

Hoturi accepted the soup, a resigned smile on his lips. "I could order you not to come with me."

"I'm not coming with you," Toshimoko said. "I'm going to visit my sick cousin, Yugoro. Yugoro happens to live in Otosan Uchi, of course, but what's the harm in that?"

"All right, Sensei. You win." Sitting by the fire, he lifted the soup to his lips and tasted the warm broth appreciatively. "But I'm not washing the bowls."

"You never do, my student." Toshimoko chuckled, lying back and placing his head on folded arms. "You never do."

The two men slept that night by the fire, listening to the sounds of the forest and the faint movements of their ponies. They were both tired when the sun rose, but Hoturi felt the need to put as much distance as possible between himself and Kyuden Kakita. Llaving consented to wearing the brown and gray of a ronin, Toshimoko pushed himself into the saddle of his wide-bellied pony.

They rode for two days through forest and glen, following the least-traveled Kakita roads. Hoturi's pony knew the way to Osuka village, and did not care for his interventions. Hoturi felt a kinship to the beast. For most of his life, he had been a samurai, bound only by the code of bushido and his duty to the Crane. Then, occasionally, he was reminded that he bore an additional burden—that of champion. It was like a rider on his back, driving him along the path with a steel whip and iron reins.

Unlike the pony, Hoturi wouldn't submit meekly to the demands. There was more to life, much more, and it was time that being Crane Champion proved its worth to him, as well as to the clan.

Kachiko ...

He shook his head angrily. Enough of that. Hoturi patted the pony's brown neck and listened to the steady beat of hooves against hard-packed earth. "We'll need to stop for food," he commented, feeling the faint bulges in his bag. "I have enough for only three days, and the forest is barren this time of year."

"I taught you that," Toshimoko said grumpily.

"Osuka is within a day's ride. We can refill our bags before we cross the northern fields. At this time of year, we should be able to cross the Twisted River without trouble, so long as there is little rain. Until we discover how far the Lion have entered our land and where the plague has centered, we'll need to be wary." He looked northward, through the thick forest and overhanging growth.

Toshimoko nodded as they rode along the forest path.

The village of Osuka was a bustling place of commerce and prosperity, large enough with trade and the traveler's road to support two teahouses and a single geisha establishment.

"When we arrive, I must remember to say hello to Meiko." The sensei smiled. "She can sing like the Fortunes themselves, and her lineage is good. She was an Isawa before her bankrupt father was forced to sell her to the geisha Oba-san.

Now she lives with her song, and a more beautiful girl I have not seen since ..."

"Since the one before her. If you believe that fable, I'll sell you the Scorpion lands. You're a romantic, Toshimoko."

"Perhaps I am," the old man laughed, pounding his pony's shoulder gently. "But I am a lucky man."

"You are...."

His comment died away as rapid hoofbeats came from the woods ahead. They were wild, scrambling madly across the rocks. After a moment, the white-eyed pony crashed through the trees. Its hooves and legs were covered in thick red mud, and the Daidoji on its back clung with the last desperate strength of honor. As Toshimoko and Hoturi reined in their startled animals, the third horse reared suddenly, nearly throwing its injured rider.

"Hold! Hold!" cried Hoturi, sliding down from his steed and calling to the man on the frightened pony. There was no response. With a swift movement, Hoturi leapt to grasp the fluttering reins. He drew the rearing pony into the center of the road.

The soldier had been tied to the pony's back with a length of torn silk banner. Its blue was stained with crimson blood. The bushi's eyes rolled back into his head with the effort of staying conscious. "Osuka . .." the soldier gasped. "Lion . .. have reached Osuka. Must tell the Kakita...."