Brilliance of the Moon (13 page)

“She’s been bewitched herself by love. She’s joined Otori Takeo,
the Kikuta boy who’s caused so much trouble. They are determined to marry. He
sent me and Kondo away because the Kikuta have issued an edict against him.”

Kana yelped as she steamed her fingers by mistake. “Ah, what a
shame,” Miyabi sighed. “They’re both doomed, then.”

“What do you
expect?” Shizuka retorted. “You know the punishment for disobedience.” But the
corners of her own eyes grew hot as if she were about to weep.

“Come, come,” her grandmother said. She seemed more gentle than
Shizuka remembered. “You’ve had a long journey. You’re tired. Eat and get your
strength back. Kenji will want to talk to you tonight.” Kana spooned rice from
the cooking pot into a bowl and heaped vegetables on top of it. They were the
spring vegetables of the mountain, burdock, fern shoots, and wild mushrooms.
Shizuka ate where she was, sitting on the step, as she so often had when she
was a child. Miyabi asked delicately, “I have to prepare the beds, but… where
is the visitor to sleep?”

“He can go with the men,” Shizuka replied through a mouthful of
rice. “I will be up till late with my uncle.”

If they slept together in her family home, it would be as good as
announcing their marriage. She was not sure yet; she would do nothing without
seeking Kenji’s advice.

Her grandmother patted her on the hand, her eyes bright and happy,
and poured them both another cup of wine. When the rest of the meal was ready
and the girls had taken the trays of food to the men, the old woman got to her
feet.

“Take a walk with me. I want to go to the shrine. I’ll make an
offering in thanks for your safe return.”

She took rice balls, wrapped in a cloth, and a small flask of
wine. Next to Shizuka she seemed to have shrunk, and she walked more slowly,
grateful for her granddaughter’s arm to lean on.

Night had fallen. Most people were inside, eating the evening
meal or preparing for sleep. A dog barked at the door of one house and bounded
toward them but was called back by a woman, who then shouted a greeting to
them.

From the thick grove that surrounded the shrine, owls were
hooting, and Shizuka’s sharp ears caught the high squeaking of bats.

“Can you still hear them?” her grandmother said, peering at the
fleeting shapes. “And I can barely see them! That’s the Kikuta in you.”

“My hearing is
nothing special,” Shizuka said. “I wish it were.” A stream ran through the
grove, and fireflies glowed along the bank. The gates loomed before them,
vermilion red in the faint light. They passed beneath them and washed their
hands and rinsed their mouths at the fountain. The cistern was of blue-black
stone, and a dragon forged from iron kept guard over it. The mountain spring
water was icy cold and pure.

Lamps burned in front of the shrine, but it seemed deserted. The
old woman placed her offerings on the wooden pedestal in front of the statue of
Hachiman, the god of war. She bowed twice, clapped her hands three times, and
repeated this ritual three times. Shizuka did the same and found herself
praying for the god’s protection, not for herself or for her family, but for
Kaede and Takeo in the wars that would certainly engulf them. She was almost
ashamed of herself and was glad no one could read her thoughts—no one but the
god himself.

Her grandmother stood staring upward. Her face seemed as ancient
as the carved statue and as full of numinous power. Shizuka felt her strength
and her endurance, and was moved by love and reverence for her. She was glad
she had come home. The old people had the wisdom of generations; maybe some of
that wisdom would be transferred to her.

They remained motionless for a few moments, and then there was a
bustle of sound, a door sliding open, footsteps on the veranda. The shrine
priest came toward them, already in his evening clothes.

“I didn’t expect anyone so late,” he said. “Come and drink a cup
of tea with us.”

“My granddaughter is back.”

“Ah, Shizuka! It’s been a long time. Welcome home.”

They sat with the priest and his wife for a while, chatting
casually, catching up with the gossip of the village. Then her grandmother
said, “Kenji will be ready for you now. We must not keep him waiting.”

They walked back between the darkened houses, now mostly silent.
People slept early at this time of year and rose early to start the spring
work, preparing the fields and planting. Shizuka recalled the days she had
spent as a young woman, ankle-deep in the rice fields, planting the seedlings,
sharing her youth and fertility with them, while traditional songs were chanted
by the older women on the banks. Was she too old to take part in the spring
planting now?

If she married Kondo, would she be too old to have another child?

The girls were cleaning up the kitchen and scouring the dishes when
they returned. Taku was sitting where Shizuka had sat earlier, his eyes
closing, his head nodding.

“He has a message for you.” Miyabi laughed. “Wouldn’t give it to
anyone but you!”

Shizuka sat down beside him and tickled his cheek. “Messengers
can’t fall asleep,” she teased.

“Uncle Kenji is ready to talk to you now,” Taku said importantly,
and then spoiled the effect by yawning. “He’s in the living room with
Grandfather, and everyone else has gone to bed.”

“Where you should be,” Shizuka said, pulling him into her arms.
She hugged him tightly and he relaxed against her like a little boy, nuzzling
his head into her breasts. After a few moments he began to wriggle and said in
a muffled voice, “Don’t keep Uncle Kenji waiting, Mother.”

She laughed and released him. “Go to bed.”

“Will you still be here in the morning?” He yawned again.

“Of course!”

He gave her a sweet smile. “I’ll show you everything I’ve learned
since I last saw you.”

“Your mother will be astonished,” Miyabi said.

Shizuka walked with her younger son to the women’s room, where he
still slept. Tonight she would have him next to her, hear his childish
breathing through the night, and wake in the morning to see the relaxed limbs
and the tousled hair. She had missed that so much.

Zenko slept in the men’s room now; she could hear his voice
questioning Kondo about the battle of Kushimoto, where he had fought with Arai.
She heard the note of pride in the boy’s voice when he mentioned his father’s
name. How much did he know of Aral’s campaign against the Tribe, of his attempt
on her life?

What will
happen to them
? she thought.
Will their
mixed blood he as destructive to them as Takeo’s
?

She said good night to Taku, walked through the room, and slid
the door open to the next room, where her uncle and grandfather sat waiting for
her. She knelt before them, touching her brow to the matting. Kenji smiled and
nodded, saying nothing. He looked at his father and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, well,” the old man said. “I must leave you two together.”
As Shizuka helped him to his feet, she was struck by how much he, too, had
aged. She walked with him to the door, where Kana was waiting to help him get
ready for bed.

“Good night, child,” he said. “What a relief it is to have you
here in safety in these dark days. But how long will we be safe anywhere?”

“Surely he’s being
overly pessimistic,” she said to her uncle as she returned. “Aral’s rage will
subside. He’ll
realize
he cannot eradicate the Tribe and that he needs
spies like any other warlord. He’ll come to terms with us.”

“I agree. No one sees Arai as a problem in the long term. It
would be easy enough to lie low until he’s calmed down, as you say. But there
is another matter that could be far more serious. It seems Shigeru left us an
unexpected legacy. The Kikuta believe he kept records of our networks and
members and that these records are now in Takeo’s possession.”

Her heart stopped in her throat. It seemed to her that she had
brought the past to life just by thinking about it.

“Is it possible?” she replied, trying to respond normally.

“The Kikuta master Kotaro is convinced of it. At the end of last
year he sent Takeo to Hagi, with Akio, to locate the records and bring them
back. It seems Takeo went to Shigeru’s house, saw Ichiro, and then got away
from Akio somehow and headed for Terayama. He evaded and killed two agents and
an Otori warrior on the way.”

“An Otori warrior?” Shizuka repeated stupidly.

“Yes, the Kikuta are stepping up their contacts with the Otori,
both in alliance against Arai and to eliminate Takeo.”

“And the Muto?”

Kenji grunted. “I have not made a decision yet.” Shizuka raised
her eyebrows and waited for him to go on. “Kotaro is assuming the records were
being looked after at the temple, which in hindsight seems obvious to me. That
wicked old Matsuda never gave up plotting despite becoming a priest, and he and
Shigeru were very close. I think I can even recall the chest Shigeru carried
them in. I can’t imagine how I overlooked it. My only excuse is that I had
other things on my mind at that time. The Kikuta are furious with me, and I’m
left looking like an idiot.” He grinned ruefully. “Shigeru outfoxed me—me, whom
they used to call the Fox!”

“That explains the edict against Takeo,” Shizuka said. “I thought
it was for disobedience. It seemed fierce, but it didn’t surprise me. When I
heard he was working with Akio, I knew there would be trouble.”

“My daughter said so too. She sent a message to me while Takeo
was still in our house in Yamagata. There was some incident: He outwitted my
wife and escaped for a night, nothing major, and he came back by morning,
butYuki wrote then that he and Akio would end up killing each other. Akio very
nearly did die, by the way. Muto Yuzuru’s men pulled him out of the river,
half-drowned and half-frozen.”

“Takeo should have
finished him off,” Shizuka couldn’t help saying. Kenji smiled without mirth.
“I’m afraid that was my first reaction too. Akio claimed he tried to prevent
Takeo from getting away, but I learned later from Yuki that he was already
under instructions to kill him, once the whereabouts of the records had been
discovered.”

“Why?” Shizuka
said. “What good does his death do to them?”

“It’s not a simple
situation. Takeo’s appearance has disturbed a lot
of
people, especially among the Kikuta. His lack of obedience and his recklessness
don’t help.“

“The Kikuta sound so extreme, whereas you always seemed to give
Takeo a lot of leeway,” Shizuka said.

“It was the only way to handle him. I learned that as soon as I
got to Hagi. He’s got good instincts, he’ll do anything for you if you win his
loyalty, but you can’t force him. He’ll break rather than give in.”

“Must be a Kikuta trait,” Shizuka murmured.

“Maybe.” Kenji sighed deeply and stared into the shadows. He did
not speak for a while, then said, “For the Kikuta, everything is
black-and-white: you obey or you die… the only cure for stupidity is death… all
the things they’re brought up to believe.”

If the Kikuta
ever find out my part in all this, they will kill me
,
Shizuka
thought. /
dare not tell Kenji
either
. “So now Takeo is not only lost to the Tribe,
but holds information with which he can destroy us?”

“Yes, and that information will buy him an alliance with Arai
sooner or later.”

“He will never be allowed to live,” Shizuka said with renewed
sorrow.

“He’s survived so far. It’s proved harder than the Kikuta thought
it would be to get rid of him.” Shizuka thought she detected a note of rueful
pride in her uncle’s voice. “And he has the knack of surrounding himself with
devoted followers. Half the Otori clan’s young warriors have already crossed
the border to join him inTerayama.”

“If he and Kaede marry, as I am sure they will,” Shizuka said,
“Arai will be enraged. It may take more than Shigeru’s records to placate him.”

“Well, you know Arai better than anyone. There’s also the
question of his sons, and of you. I haven’t told the boys that their father
ordered your death, but they’re sure to find out sooner or later. It won’t
bother Taku—he’s Tribe through and through—but Zenko idolizes his father.

He’s not going to be as talented as Taku, and in many ways it
would be better for him to be raised by Arai. Is there any possibility of it?“

“I don’t know,”
Shizuka said. “The more land he conquers, the more sons he will want, I would
imagine.”

“We should send someone to him to see how he’s reacting—to
Takeo’s marriage, to the Otori—and how he feels toward the boys. What about
Kondo? Shall I send him?”

“Why not?” Shizuka replied with a certain relief. “Kondo seems
fond of you. Will you marry him?”

“He wants it,” she
said. “I told him I had to ask your advice. But I would like more time to think
about it.”

“No need to rush into anything,” Kenji agreed. “You can give him
your answer when he returns.” His eyes gleamed with some emotion that she could
not read. “And I can decide what action to take.”

Shizuka said nothing, but she studied Kenji’s face in the
lamplight, trying to make sense of all the pieces of information he had given
her, trying to decipher the unspoken as much as the spoken. She felt he was
glad to be able to share these concerns with her and guessed he had not told
anyone else, not even his own parents. She was aware of the great affection he
had had for Shigeru and still held forTakeo, and could imagine the conflict
that having to collaborate in Takeo’s death would cause him. She had never
known him, or any other Tribe member, to speak so openly of divisions between
the masters.