L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane (35 page)

Changing the subject before the others noticed Toturi's lingering sadness, Hoturi asked swiftly, "Is my brother alive?"

"Barely, my lord," Tomo cawed from his fireside cushion. "Alive, and Uji too. Both nearly died, escaping Kyuden Doji. Now they gather what troops survive in the deep Daidoji lands. The armies ride toward the Asahina fields, but my family refuses to help them."

"There is a time for war, Tomo. The Asahina must realize the error of living a hermit's life."

"Shinsei once spoke as you," Tomo said thoughtfully. His pale eyes glinted in the firelight, "But he couldn't get them out of that library, either." The old man's grin was nearly toothless, pink gums shining wetly in the firelight.

Hoturi's face fell, but his stubborn chin refused to lower. "My honor has been destroyed with the lands of the Crane. All the pride and tricks I used to bring my clan to glory have been stripped away by this ... mockery of my life. There is nothing left for me but to fight him. No matter what the Asahina say, they will obey their lord."

With steel in his voice, Wayu spoke from the rear of the tent. "Perhaps you samurai can believe this man, but I cannot. I must recommend that the Emerald Champion's men remain here, in the pass. I cannot say with honor that the rumors of Hoturi's fall to madness have been disproved."

Hoturi looked up at the wiry man in black, testing his resolve. "The emperor's legions cannot support their cousins?"

"I serve the emperor, not the Crane," Wayu replied angrily, stepping forward and deliberately standing over Hoturi. "If the Crane are not strong enough to stand on their own, we will not be their crutch. Let them fall."

Behind him, Toshimoko did nothing, unable to place himself between his clan and his duty to the emperor.

Enraged, Hoturi pushed himself to his knees, reaching for his swords. "Say that when I am on my feet, magistrate, and we shall see who will fall."

"Do what you will, Hoturi-sama, but I speak the words of an empire that believes you have gone mad." Wayu's expressive face was immobile. "The Shadowlands have made another Hoturi, you say, and he ravages the lands of the Crane. It is an easy excuse for treachery. Worse, what makes us believe that if one such copy can be made, that they have not made two?" He stared down at Hoturi, his body stiff. "Who is to say that you are truly Hoturi, as well?"

Hoturi knew he was being manipulated. Part of him hated the magistrate for it. Yet he saw the truth in the man's words. When he spoke again, Hoturi's voice was curt and controlled. "No matter what you say, no matter if I must ride against ten thousand madmen, I will fulfill my duty to the Crane." A wave of fear and regret washed over Hoturi. Shame showed plainly in his clear blue-gray eyes. "My duty as champion demands that I protect them, even if 1 must stand on that field alone. There is no other way to save my honor—no other way to reclaim what the false Hoturi has stolen from me."

"You would go alone?" Wayu asked in disbelief.

"To save the Crane?" Hoturi looked up and reached out his hand unsteadily. "Give me a sword."

Wayu only stared at the Crane Champion for another long moment before turning away. "We shall see."

"There is a strength in names, Hoturi-sama," Tomo's voice rose with the crackling fire, ignoring the tense conversation. "This creature, this false Hoturi, has stolen yours. You will not be whole again until it has been reclaimed. And because you are the lord of the Crane, you are the Crane. If you fall, we fall."

"Then I must not fall." Hoturi said.

"No, Crane Champion," Toturi said, rising. "We must not fall. For if we do, more than the Crane will be slaughtered. The empire itself is threatened by this rising evil. It is the duty of every samurai to see it destroyed. The question, Hoturi-sama, is how do we get you to the Asahina lands without the false Hoturi becoming aware of your presence? There are still many who would seek to kill you, for his deeds."

"Don't worry about that, Toturi-san." Hoturi smiled wearily. "I have traveled as a ronin before. It is time to do so again. This time, not to hide my honor, but to give it for my clan."

From his corner, Tomo nodded thoughtfully, watching the smoke rise from the small cooking fire.

homecomings

W
hen one eye is fixed upon your destination, you have only one with which to follow the Way.. . .

The words were simple, but they held great meaning. Carved on the doors of the Asahina shugenja school, they were meant as a benediction to study and dedication. Yet, to some, they seemed a prayer for the outside world to turn away, leaving the Asahina alone with their contemplation and their false peace.

"My lord Asahina?" gasped a young student. He stuck a bald-shaved head through the doorway. His eyes were filled with the blank stare of a child.

"What is it, Sembi?" Asahina Tamako irritably raised his eyes from his parchment. Too many interruptions and too many rumors. It was bad enough that the Crane had gone to war despite his urgings, but worse

that they would dare bring their terrible battles to his very door.

"Three ronin, my lord, on the doorstep. Three men, and they are," the young man ran a damp hand over his bald forehead, "very eager to see you."

"Do they bring knowledge of any sort? Anything worthwhile?" Tamako's brush continued in its slow, deliberate pace over the rice-paper scroll, copying the words of Shinsei's Tao into an elaborate poem of peace.

"They said only that it was important."

"Turn them away. There is enough to do here without such uninformed interruptions." Sniffing broadly, the daimyo of the Asahina scattered sand across the parchment to dry the ink.

The boy bowed hastily, his wide eyes fearful. He went slowly back to the gates of the Asahina compound.

Shortly after, there was a fierce pounding that echoed through the long stone corridors of the compound, nearly shaking Tamako's brush free from his hand. Ink slid across the carefully prepared scroll. Angered for the first time in years, the daimyo of the Asahina drew himself to his full height and marched out the library door to see what had disturbed him. The disruptive student would pay for his insolence with days of prayer and fasting.

Tamako was completely unprepared for the sight that met his eyes. Three men, dressed in the garb of ronin, stormed through the open halls. Students fled to get out of their way. The ronin did not raise their swords. Nor did they seem to threaten, but their firm step would not be slowed by prayer or pleading. Before them scurried the young student who had come to Tamako's door, his eyes white and rolling.

"Master!" he chittered, wringing thin hands, "they would not leave ... as you see.... I could not make them."

"How dare you!" Asahina Tamako felt the words to a prayer of restraint come to his mind, but cast the spell away with an arrogant thought. "This land is sacred by the decree of the Crane Champion and the dictate of the Emperor Hantei himself! No weapons are allowed here!"

"By the command of the champion of the Crane, I say they are not proof against the maho that stalks this land," one of the ronin said, removing his hood. Tamako staggered backward as he recognized his own lord, Doji Hoturi. "And if I must command you, 1 will. But you will hear the words I have to say, or by the Fortunes, I'll see you cast out to the monasteries of the Crab!" Hoturi's voice was commanding. His presence filled the narrow hallway.

Tamako leaned against a nearby wall, his chalky face blanching. "Hoturi-sama ..." At his side, the student hopped from foot to foot, waving his arms toward his master's face to give him air.

Annoyed, Tamako batted at the offending limbs. With a disdainful gesture, he waved the student back into the hallway. "You must forgive me. I did not recognize you without your guard."

"The undead, you mean?" Hoturi had caught the implication in the old man's words. "That will be explained, soon enough. Know that you need have no fear of me or of my companions."

Tamako glanced at the two ronin. "May I guess that these samurai are the esteemed champions of Phoenix and Unicorn?" he said, sneering slightly at Hoturi's ruse.

"No, Tamako-san," Toturi said as he removed his hood. "I am champion no more."

As Kakita Toshimoko's smiling face emerged from the third hood, Tamako's wide eyed student choked a gasp. He fell heavily to the floor in a dead faint.

Tamako glanced first at one face and then the next. "You ... you travel in distinguished company, as always, Lord Hoturi." His voice was weak and confused, his eyes darting back and forth like those of a trapped animal. Around them, Asahina students scattered through the halls. "Your brother is here. By the strength of our healers, he lives, though his wound was grave."

"Take me to him."

"Of course," Tamako said, waving one of the other students forward. The boy on the floor would need care before he was sentenced to four days of prayer for humiliating his lord in such a fashion. Gathering his robes about him, the Asahina Daimyo looked nervously about, as if seeking an escape. Finding none, he sighed and turned toward a long stairway of stone. "This way, samurai."

They walked through the stone corridors of the Asahina compound. The home of the Asahina was nothing like the opulent palaces of the Doji and Kakita families. It was solid, stoic, and boring—as befit a family of scholars and peacemakers. Yet behind the thick stone walls of the library, an army could stand for days, if need be.

The chamber that Tamako opened was sparsely furnished. The mahogany floor glinted. No tables rested in the room, but only three futons unrolled on the floor. On one lay Hoturi's brother, Kuwanan. His skin was chalky against the dark covers. At his side, two Asahina healers knelt, replacing the bandages that bound his torso.

As Tamako entered, Kuwanan looked up with bright eyes. "Nearly healed, my gentle friend," he said cheerfully.

"You have a visitor, Kuwanan-sama. . . ." Tamako began, unsure.

Hoturi stepped past the Asahina, lowering his hood so that his brother could see his face.

"Dear Fortunes," Kuwanan's eyes blazed with hatred and anger. "What courage it must take, Brother, to follow me so far south. Or have you captured the Asahina, as well?" He stared at Tamako and the man took an involuntary step backward. "I heard no sound of fighting."

"Kuwanan-san, you must be willing to listen."

"No, I have listened enough." The healers raised their hands in protest as Kuwanan stood, testing the strength of his bandages. "I have seen your slaughter of Kyuden Doji, Brother," the word was a sarcastic slap. "And I do not believe there is anything more to say."

Hoturi took a step forward.

Kuwanan leaped to the side and drew the Crane ancestral sword from the dai-sho holder that had rested near the bed. The bright blade shone in the light, making strange patterns against the cold stone walls.

Hoturi instinctively reached for the hilt of the sword Toturi had given him, but did not draw it from its sheath.

The healers shrieked. Tamako stepped between the dueling brothers, his arms outstretched.

"There will be no war here!" the Asahina said angrily, sounding like the daimyo of his family and not a humble librarian. "No blood will be shed in this place, or by the Fortunes, Lady Doji herself will turn her face from you!"

"You say you do not want war," Kuwanan said bitterly. "Yet you bring war to my chamber, Tamako. This man has destroyed the Crane."

"You are wrong, Kuwanan." Hoturi's voice was calm.

"Kuwanan-sama!" The Asahina stared at the ancestral blade in the samurai's hand. "My healers dragged you and your companion from the sea beneath Kyuden Doji. Brothers of my temple saved your life from the grievous wound. If you have honor, you owe it to me. You will put away your sword, and you will not draw blood in this sacred place!"

Kuwanan flinched, his eyes narrowing. "1 owe you, Asahina, and although you are a vassal to my house, you have a debt of honor from me. But this man has lied to you. He says he comes to bring peace, but I have seen his 'peace' covered in blood on the gates of Kyuden Doji!" Kuwanan moved, striking toward Hoturi.

With a deft step, the Crane Champion avoided his brother's strike. Faint remnants of poison still slowed him. His hand remained on the hilt of his own sword, but he did not draw it from its sheath.

"No, by the Fortunes!" Again, the Asahina stepped between them. "This is a house of peace!"

"Our mother died to save your life, Hoturi, and this is how you have repaid her?"

The words were a blow to the young lord of the Crane, and he stiffened. "How do you know that?" he whispered, disbelieving.

Kuwanan laughed. "So sincere. You told me yourself, when you slaughtered the Crane at Kyuden Doji. Did you have any mercy for her, or did you push her from the cliff, as well?"

"No, by the Sun, Kuwanan! It wasn't like that!" Floturi's voice was choked with emotion. "I never told you because I knew you wouldn't understand. She gave her life for me-— because she knew Satsume would kill us both if she refused."

Doji Kuwanan stepped back from the Asahina, the ancestral sword of the Crane silent in his hands. "Your life for hers. The Fortunes have mercy on us all, for being bound by duty to a damned honorless dog. You should have been the one pushed from the cliff, Hoturi."