Brilliance of the Moon (17 page)

I did not tell Ryoma, but I recalled all too clearly Masahiro’s
voice
when I had overheard him say
If we
were to adopt all our illegitimate chil~
dren
… His son intrigued me; he was what I would have been but for the
slightest divergences in our paths. I had been claimed by both sides of my
ancestry, he by neither.

“And look at us,” he said. “You are Lord Otori Takeo, adopted by
Shigeru and rightful heir to the domain, and I am not much better than an
outcast.”

“You know something of my history, then?”

“My mother knows everything about the Otori,” he said with a
laugh. “Besides, you must know your own fame.”

His manner was strange, ingratiating and familiar at the same
time. I imagined his mother had spoiled him, bringing him up with unrealistic
expectations and false ideas about his status, telling him stories about his
relatives, the Otori lords, leaving him proud and dissatisfied, ill-equipped to
deal with the reality of his life.

“Is that why you agreed to help me?”

“Partly. I wanted to meet you. I’ve worked for the Terada; I’ve
been to Oshima many times. People call it the entrance to hell, but I’ve been
there and survived.” His voice sounded almost boastful, but when he spoke again
it was with a note of pleading. “I hoped you might help me in return.” He
glanced at me. “Are you going to attack Hagi?”

I was not going to tell him too much in case he was a spy. “I
think it’s general knowledge that your father and his older brother betrayed
Lord Shigeru to Iida. I hold them responsible for his death.”

He grinned then. “That’s what I hoped. I have a score to settle
with them too.”

“With your own father?”

“I hate him more than I would have thought it possible to hate
any man,” he replied. “The Terada hate the Otori too. If you move against them,
you may find allies at Oshima.”

This cousin of mine was no fool; he knew very well what my errand
was. “I’m in your debt for taking me there,” I said. “I’ve incurred many debts
in seeking to avenge Shigeru’s death fully, and when I hold Hagi I’ll repay
them all.”

“Give me my name,” he said. “That’s all I want.”

As we approached the island he told me how he went there from
time to time, taking messages and snippets of information about expeditions to
the mainland or shipments of silver, silk, and other precious goods between the
coastal towns.

“The Terada can do no more than irritate the Otori,” he said,
“but between you maybe you can destroy them.”

I neither agreed nor disagreed with him but tried to change the
subject, asking him about the fisherman and how he came to know him.

“If you mean, do I believe the nonsense he does, the answer is
no!” he said. He caught my look and laughed. “But my mother does.

It’s quite widespread among prostitutes. Perhaps it consoles them
for their wretched lives. And besides, they should know if anyone does that all
men are the same under their trappings. I don’t believe in any god or any life
beyond this one. No one’s punished after death. That’s why I want to see them
punished now.“

The sun had burned off the mist and the island’s cone shape was
now clearly visible, looming up out of the ocean, smoke rising from it. The
waves broke white against the gray-black cliffs. The wind had strengthened and
drove us skimming over the swell. The tidal race past the island quickened. I
felt my stomach heave as we sped down the face of a huge green billow and up
the other side. I stared upward toward the craggy island and took a couple of
deep breaths. I did not want to be seasick when I faced the pirates.

Then we rounded the headland and came into the lee. Ryoma shouted
to me to take the oar as the sail fluttered and sagged. He untied it and let it
fall, then sculled the boat through the calmer water toward the sheltered port.

It was a natural deepwater harbor, with stone walls and
breakwaters constructed around it. My heart lifted at the sight of the fleet of
vessels moored there, ten or twelve at least, sturdy and seaworthy, capable of
carrying dozens of men.

The port was guarded by wooden forts at each end, and I could see
men mside at the arrow slits, bows no doubt trained on me. Ryoma waved and
shouted, and two men emerged from the nearer fort. They did not wave back, but
as they walked toward us one of them nodded perfunctorily in recognition.

As we approached the quayside he shouted, “Hey, Ryoma, who’s the
passenger?”

“Lord Otori Takeo,” Ryoma called back importantly.

“Is that so? Your brother, is he? Another of your mother’s
mistakes?”

Ryoma took the boat up to the wharf skillfully enough and held it
steady while I disembarked. The two men were still chuckling. I did not want to
start a brawl, but I was not going to let them insult me and get away with it.

“I am Otori Takeo,” I said. “No one’s mistake. I am here to speak
to Terada Fumio and his father.”

“And we’re here to keep people like you away from them,” said the
larger guard. His hair was long, his beard as thick as a northerner’s, his face
scarred. He waved his sword in my face and grinned. It was all too easy; his
arrogance and stupidity made him immediately vulnerable to the Kikuta sleep. I
held his gaze, his mouth dropped open, and his grin turned to a gasp of
astonishment as his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled. He was a heavy man
and he went down heavily, striking his head on the stones.

The other slashed out at me at once with his sword, but it was
exactly the move I had expected and I’d already split myself and drawn Jato. As
his sword went uselessly through my image, I struck it, twisted it, and sent it
flying out of his hand.

“Please tell Terada I am here,” I said.

Ryoma had fastened the boat and was on the quayside. He picked up
the man’s sword. “This is Lord Otori, you idiot. The one all the stories are
about. You’re lucky he didn’t strike you dead on the spot.”

Other men had come running from the fort. They all now dropped to
their knees.

“Forgive me, lord. I didn’t mean to offend you,” the guard
stammered, his eyes wide at what he no doubt thought was sorcery.

“Luckily for you I’m in a good mood,” I said. “But you insulted
my cousin. I think you should apologize to him.”

With Jato pointed at his throat the man did so, causing Ryoma to
smirk with satisfaction.

“What aboutTeruo?” the guard said, gesturing at his unconscious
companion.

“He won’t come to any harm. When he wakes up he’ll have learned
better manners. Now, be so good as to inform Terada Fumio of my arrival.”

Two of them hurried away while the rest returned to the fort. I
sat down on the quay wall. A tortoiseshell tomcat who had watched the whole
encounter with interest came and sniffed at the recumbent man, then jumped onto
the wall next to me and began to wash itself. It was the fattest cat I’d ever
seen. Seafaring men are reputed to be superstitious; no doubt they believed the
cat’s coloring made it lucky, so they pampered it and fed it well. I wondered
if they took it with them on their voyages. I stroked the cat and looked
around. Behind the port lay a small village, and halfway up the hill behind it
was a substantial wooden building, part house and part castle. It would have a
fine view of the coast and the sea-lanes all the way to the city of Hagi. I couldn’t help admiring the position and construction of the place and could
understand why no one had been able to expel the pirates from their lair. I saw
the men hurry up the mountain path and heard their voices as they reported
their message at the gates of the residence. Then I caught the familiar sound
of Fumio’s voice, a little deeper and more mature but with the same excited
cadence that I remembered. I stood and walked to the end of the quay. The cat
jumped down and followed me. By now quite a crowd had gathered, hostile and
suspicious. I kept my hand near my sword and hoped the cat’s presence would
reassure them. They stood watching me curiously, most of them as tense as I
was, while Ryoma kept them informed of my identity. “This is Lord Otori Takeo,
Lord Shigeru’s son and heir, who killed Iida.” Every now and then he added,
almost to himself, “He called me cousin.”

Fumio came running down the hill. I’d been worried about my
reception, but it was as warm as I could have hoped. We embraced like brothers.
He looked older, had grown a mustache, and had filled out through the
shoulders—in fact, he seemed as well fed as the cat—but his mobile face and
lively eyes were unchanged.

“You came alone?” he asked, standing back and studying me.

“This man brought me.” I indicated Ryoma, who had dropped to the
ground at Fumio’s approach. Whatever his pretensions, he knew where the real
power lay. “I cannot stay long; I hope he will take me back again tonight.”

“Wait here for Lord Otori,” Fumio told him, and then as we began
to walk away he called offhandedly to the guards, “Give him something to eat.”

And don’t
tease him
, I wanted to add, but was afraid of shaming
him more. I hoped they would treat him better now but doubted it. He was the
sort that invited ridicule, doomed always to be a victim.

“I imagine you’ve come for a purpose,” Fumio said, striding up
the hill. He’d lost none of his energy and stamina. “We’ll bathe and eat, then
I’ll take you to my father.”

No matter how urgent my mission, the lure of hot water was more
pressing. The fortified house had been built around a string of pools where
water bubbled from the rocks. Even without its violent inhabitants, Oshima, the
entrance to hell, would have been a ferocious place. The volcano smoked above
us, the air smelled of sulfur, and steam rose from the surface of the pools,
where boulders loomed like the petrified dead.

We undressed and slid into the scalding water. I’ve never been in
hotter. I thought my skin would be stripped from me. After the first agonizing
moment the sensation was indescribable. It washed away the days of riding and
sleeping rough, the nighttime boat trip. I knew I should be on my guard—a
boyhood friendship was not much of a basis for trust—but at that moment anyone
could have assassinated me and I would probably have died happy.

Fumio said, “We’ve had news of you from time to time. You have
been busy since we last met. I was very sorry to hear of Lord Shigeru’s death.”

“It was a terrible loss, not only for me but for the clan. I am
still pursuing his murderers.”

“Iida is dead,
though?”

“Yes, Iida has paid, but it was the Otori lords who planned
Shigeru’s death and who betrayed him to Iida.”

“You intend to punish them? You can count on the Terada if you
do.”

I told him briefly about my marriage to Kaede, our journey to
Maruyama, and the forces under our command.

“But I must return to Hagi and take up my inheritance there. The
Otori lords will not give it to me peacefully, so I will take it from them by
force. And I prefer it that way, for then I will destroy them too.”

Fumio smiled and raised his eyebrows. “You have changed since I
knew you first.”

“I have been forced to.”

We left the hot water, dressed, and were served food in one of
the house’s many rooms. It was like a storehouse, a treasure trove of valuable
and beautiful objects, all presumably stolen from merchant ships: ivory
carvings, celadon vases, brocade fabric, gold and silver bowls, tiger and
leopard skins. I had never been in a room like it, so many precious things
displayed but with none of the restraint and elegance that I was used to in the
residences of the warrior class.

“Take a closer look at them,” Fumio said when we’d finished
eating. “I’ll 20 and speak to my father. If there’s anything that appeals to
you, take it. My father acquires them, but they mean nothing to him.”

I thanked him for the offer, but I had no intention of taking
anything back with me. I sat quietly waiting for his return, outwardly relaxed
but on my guard. Fumio’s welcome had been affectionate, but I had no idea what
other alliances the Terada might have; for all I knew they might have an
understanding with the Kikuta. I listened, placing everyone in the house,
trying to identify voices, accents—though I had long since realized that if I
was walking into a trap, I had little chance of escaping. I had truly come
alone into the dragon’s lair.

I had already placed Terada—the dragon himself—toward the back of
the house. I’d heard his voice issuing orders, demanding tea, a fan, wine. The
voice was rough, full of energy, like Fumio’s, often passionate and also often
angry, but sometimes revealing an underlying humor. I would not underestimate
Terada Fumifusa. He had escaped the rigid hierarchy of the clan system, defied
the Otori, and made his name one of the most feared in the Middle Country.

Finally, Fumio returned for me and led me to the back of the
house, to a room like an eagle’s nest, perched high above the village and the
port, facing toward Hagi. In the distance I could just make out the familiar
line of the ranges behind the town. The sea was still and calm, streaked like
silk, indigo-colored, the waves forming a snowy fringe around the rocks. An
eagle floated below, no bigger than a lark.