The Disfavored Hero (5 page)

“O, cruel master!” Ushii began. “You have tricked me! I bargained my service for her life, but what kind of life have you wrought?”

Streamers of smoke thin as the sorcerer's beard rose from the brazier. From behind this faint curtain he spoke in a lecturing tone: “I am told that a samurai without a master is little more than a samurai without honor. I am delighted to serve as master to Tomoe Gozen, thereby to insure her station.” He liked his own jest, and grinned horridly.

“Woe!” cried Ushii, and scratched his own face until it bled. “It is too wicked to be true!”

“How so?” the stork-thin venerable snapped. He gestured toward Tomoe with a hand that looked like bones. The hand wavered like a snake. He said, “Hers will remain the life of a warrior, the only life she ever sought. I could have made her a sing-song girl. I could make her play lute or samisen, and recite lurid poetry for all who visit my court. But I value her for her prowess, and am pleased that you brought her to me. She is known even in the Celestial Kingdoms of Ho as a courageous fighter, having slain many of Ho's best soldiers to reach a swordsmith from Naipon and end his career. It will be rich irony when I return to my country to overthrow the old dynasty, with Tomoe Gozen as my general. Weep no more, Ushii Yakushiji, for Tomoe is alive and mighty, whereas you are merely alive.”

Ushii fell into a crouch, wrapped arms around his knees. In obedience to his new master, he did not weep.

The sorcerer called aloud, “Tomoe Gozen.”

Like a titanic stone warrior come to life, Tomoe slowly turned her head and looked precisely at the one who called.

“Tomoe Gozen, you have dishonored yourself. What must a samurai do?”

Although Tomoe could not recall what she had done to bring dishonor to herself, she felt vaguely that this was true. She removed a short knife from a sheath at her thigh and raised it to her throat.
Seppuku
among men involved inflicting disemboweling wounds upon oneself; among women, the ritual suicide consisted of
jigai
, the stabbing or cutting of the throat. Ushii shouted,

“It is not true! The honor of Tomoe is unreproachable!”

The sorcerer waved an unsteady hand and said, “I was mistaken, honorable Tomoe.” His glee manifested itself in an ugly fashion when he peeled back his lips to reveal black, receding gums. Tomoe replaced the knife in its sheath, taking once again her rigid posture. Throughout the brief ordeal, her expression had not altered.

More delighted than ever with his puppet, the sorcerer started another game. “Tomoe!” he said. “An evil man reposes on this throne, thin as sticks and easily slain. What deed would a strong samurai perform?”

Butterfly-longswords slid out of their scabbards. Tomoe stalked forward. Ushii was caught between fear and delight. Tomoe's swords were held at her extreme sides. They were long enough to reach across the brazier. The skeletal sorcerer spoke calmly to Ushii,

“If I said for you to stop her, you would have to try.” Again, he exposed his gums with a horrible grin. “Am I right?”

“I am sworn to your service,” Ushii said simply.

“I would not think of that command!” exclaimed the sorcerer, toying cruelly with Ushii's emotions. To Tomoe he said, “Why do you hesitate?”

Her swords came together so quickly it was almost impossible to see the motion.

The sorcerer didn't flinch. The swords stopped a hair's width from either side of his neck. Even Tomoe could not guess what staid the double blow. For a moment she felt concern rise from inside her, from wherever feeling was hidden. The sorcerer must have seen the change in the woman's visage, for his homely smile dwindled and he said swiftly,

“Tomoe, you must forget that swords forged in the Celestial Kingdoms cannot harm me! Forget my game immediately and feel at peace with yourself.”

The woman stepped away from the warmth and sweet repugnance of the brazier, her sense of smell deadened by the fumes. The fear that had almost awakened her was forgotten. She saw Ushii Yakushiji on his knees beside her, whining pitifully. Why he was so dispirited she did not know and could waste little effort considering.

“What have I brought upon you, Tomoe?” Ushii wailed. “What have I done?”

“Honored warrior,” said the sorcerer, a bony finger leveled at Tomoe. “If you can speak, pledge service to me.”

Ushii fell from crouch to knees and crawled toward the side of the sorcerer's throne, begging, “Lord Huan, do not command her oath!
My
service was the price of resurrection, not that of Tomoe Gozen.”

He ignored the begging samurai and waited for Tomoe's response. Although her mouth opened, she could make no sound. It was as though her tongue were cleaved to her palate.

“As I suspected,” said Lord Huan, mostly to himself. “No matter!” He affected a bored demeanor as he tossed particles of sorcerous incense into the pot before his throne. He continued, “She will obey me in any case, whether or not she is bound by her own word. But I am intrigued by this code of the samurai, this honor you value above your lives. It provides you a framework for pristine logic and action, but the ends are not always moral. That makes samurai valuable to one as myself, for I too value loyalty above morality.”

He leaned forward in his large seat, clutching the arms of the throne as though he were so weak he might fall, and continued, “Like all samurai, you believe the Mikados have reigned since Naipon's beginnings strictly because they are divine children of your sun-goddess. But it is this unshakable loyalty among the samurai class that holds the power above you. In the three kingdoms which make up Ho, dynasties come and go, some lasting longer than others—while in Naipon, the same family rules on and on. Whether strong leaders, or decadent figureheads; with a tyrant's fist, or a gentle opened hand—the Mikados endure. Because of you. One day, I will rule over the nations of Ho. And to insure an everlasting dynasty, I would introduce the virtues of the samurai to the Celestial Kingdoms.”

Ushii sat on his knees, staring at his hands in his lap. His faith did not allow room for the considerations of Lord Huan, Tomoe knew. Except for her presently discompassionate state, she might be as deaf as Ushii. For Ushii, the concept of samurai at once honorable and immoral was not to be assimilated. The notion that the power of the Mikado heralded elsewhere than from the Shinto pantheon was supreme blasphemy. Ushii knew he served a wicked master, however; and a servant need not comprehend
any
master's reasoning, and especially not Lord Huan's.

Tomoe, however, was affected, though in no way did it show.

Lord Huan leaned back, resting as though speech wearied him; but in a moment he gathered strength to continue: “I am fascinated that you could bear me such malice and yet serve with implicit loyalty. You call it, I believe,
giri
: fealty and duty to your master. It takes precedence above your own family. Without it, you have no honor. Without honor, the virtues of justice and benevolence mean nothing. I understand your kind, Ushii, or begin to. You grovel to me now, but you are no coward. I might be helpless as a babe against your sword, but it will never turn against me, because I have your word. Only through a master can the seven virtues of the samurai be meaningfully fulfilled. Only I may judge if you are polite, courageous, benevolent, veracious, just, loyal and honorable. Is this not so, samurai?”

Ushii nodded faintly, looked up, and whispered, “You do not consider my
ninjo
, Lord Huan. Through it, I may judge for myself what is benevolent and just, aside from my master's command. The ninjo is my conscience. If it tells me that through you I am without honor, then I must die.”

The sorcerer clapped his hands joyously. “Ah, Ushii, you do not understand the wisdom of your nation's founders! Even dishonored, you must be loyal to your master. You would slay yourself to be free of me, whereas in the Celestial Kingdoms, an emperor despised must be ever on guard against treachery. Oh, glorious were the days when ancient rulers taught the Way of the Warrior to samurai! By emulation, I will rise to glory in the Seat of Heaven, the Throne of the Celestial Kingdoms whose splendor dwarfs my own small seat! Never will my dynasty fall!”

The sorcerer gazed at the ceiling, reverent of himself, whose idealized life was depicted in the relief above their heads. When he looked at Ushii again, he said,

“Who do you serve, samurai?”

Ushii stood and touched the hilt of his sword, saying, “I am pledged to the defense of Lord Huan!” Strength and pride crept back into his tone. If all the cosmos came undone, still would Ushii Yakushiji feel complete, for he had bushido to keep him whole. Or so he believed. Tomoe, though unable or unwilling to act, was yet able to reason. She knew that to survive, Ushii must sever his giri from his ninjo, maintaining honor with the first and despising himself with the second. This separation of self meant insanity, and unless it were resolved, Ushii would go mad.

The knowledge should have moved Tomoe deeply, but she felt nothing beyond simple comprehension.

The sorcerer was cackling loudly, then stopped short. “Tomoe!” he called. “Come stand to my right. Ushii, to my left.” Ushii took up his station, squaring his shoulders and affecting his old self. Tomoe moved like a juggernaut to the right hand side of the exiled Huan. He said, “Yesterday, I spent vast stores of magic bringing forth the storm, manipulating a peasant population, and opening the door for Ushii Yakushiji to aid Tomoe Gozen. These demonstrations have left me weak. But I need not fear, for I have two fine
yojimbo:
samurai bodyguards. Shigeno was allowed the illusion of victory, yet he is ruined—for without peasants to till the fields and bring him tribute, he is lord of nothing.

“Soon, I must sleep to regain my powers. Before I awaken, Ushii, you will execute the dragonmasters for their cowardice in the battle. They alone survived yesterday's battle, because they ran away; and I shall replace them with a more effective army. Tomoe, you will carry me to my bedchamber, for I am presently too drained to walk. You will stand over me and see no danger befalls. I will sleep three days. On the fourth, I will return to my throne to accept tribute from all the warlords. They do not know my sorcery is for the moment spent, so they prepare even now to honor me lest the example of Shojiro Shigeno be made of them as well.”

He looked at Tomoe and then at Ushii, and it seemed the evil man had a kind of awe for both of them. He finished, “I trust you both implicitly.”

Then he laughed louder than Tomoe had heard before. It was the mirth of malice which cannot be defeated.

That night, Tomoe stood over the silk-upholstered couch of the dark sorcerer of Ho. Since she placed him amidst the covers, he had not moved. He lay curled fetally, a child as old as time; and evil was, after all, ancient, yet never wholly matured.

Tomoe's black eyes glistened in the faint light of a single, failing candle. Ushii lay on a bamboo mat on the floor. He watched his captivated friend and the sleeping Lord Huan, with a wild expression framed by the self-inflicted scratches on his face. He asked, “Why do you never sleep, Tomoe?”

She could not reply.

Ushii shuddered. “How terribly you have changed!”

Huan, in his revitalizing trance, would have been easy prey but for his intent guardian. Even were Ushii mad enough to attack his own master, Tomoe would stop him with the least necessary effort. She was not sure why she would bother, for the sorcerer merited none of her consideration. Perhaps she would stop Ushii so he could not dishonor himself, although that did not register with much importance either. Nor was she certain why she felt no inclination to kill Lord Huan herself, except that she no longer served Shojiro Shigeno and bore Shigeno's adversary no personal grudge. She hovered above the frail sorcerer without movement, barely with thought. Not even her moist eyes blinked.

Ushii said to her, “By the danger brought to the heimin and by keeping an army, Lord Huan has broken his treaty with the Mikado. It may be that the warlords prepare tribute as we are told, but if this is so, it is only for the moment—only until reinforcements can march from Kamakura or Kyoto. There will be many samurai, and perhaps
jono
priests and priestesses to fight the magic. It will be a remarkable war, Tomoe.”

A remarkable war seemed unlikely to Tomoe, for she had slain Lord Huan's soldiers herself, and Ushii would soon execute the surviving dragonmasters for their cowardly flight when Tomoe broke through their fire. Or, more likely, they were to be gotten out of the way because they did not fit into the next phase of Lord Huan's scheme. Whatever Huan's plan, without an army of comparable force, the inevitable confrontation would be decidedly unremarkable. Yet the sorcerer rested easy on his rich couch. Who was to say what miracle he could perform on regaining the fullness of his power.

“When war comes,” said Ushii, “I, for sake of honor, must serve the enemy; and you will serve him too. I would slay myself and be done with all this, but that my soul would never rise from hell to its next life, knowing I had left you in this state. A glamour is upon you, Tomoe, though you seem not to care; and it is the fault of my unthinking devotion. Goro and Madoka warned me, but I would not hear. Now I must wait until you are free before I can consider the mettle of my own honor.”

When Ushii slept, Tomoe noted from the bottom of her unwavering vision that the sorcerer was smirking within his cloudy tufts of beard. Even entranced, he had listened.

Through three nights Tomoe stood without motion, taking no nourishment, accepting no drink, without apparent depletion. Ushii came and went as he pleased, handling the affairs of Lord Huan's palace. Servants obeyed him absolutely, having witnessed his swift method of dispensing with the dragonmasters, and fearing his darkening mood. On each of the three evenings, he returned to his mat like an obedient cur, and gazed earnestly upon the stone-still warrior until too tired to keep awake.