Spirit's Princess (40 page)

“You make it sound hopeless,” I said.

“Not hopeless,” he corrected me. “But not easy. Be patient, Himiko; be patient and keep your eyes open. Your chance will come.”

Michio’s words were fulfilled sooner than I dreamed. I was sitting at the loom, weaving new garments for my little brothers, when Aki came clambering up the house ladder to call out, “Great news! Excellent news! One of our hunters spotted a herd of wild boar, a
big
one, and signs of another as well!”

Mama, Yukari, Emi, and I all looked up from our work
at once. “Where is your father?” Mama asked. “Has he been told?”

“Of course! He was the first. He sent me here to fetch his weapons and some supplies for the journey. All the able-bodied men are gathering. We’ll probably split up into two parties, to track the two herds. Wish us well, and we’ll come home with more than enough meat to see us through the winter.”

There was a great deal of bustle as the hunting party prepared to depart. Everyone was excited at the prospect of a successful chase. The old and the young men left behind looked wistful, as did the few others Father commanded to stay and keep watch over our village in his absence. While Michio invoked the gods, offering prayers for plentiful game and asking that all of our men come back alive and unhurt, I sought out my brother Masa. He stood in the doorway of the forge, his face crumpled up with longing and disappointment, and he never took his eyes from the hunting party, even when I greeted him.

“Look at them, Himiko,” he said, nodding in their direction. “When they come back, they’ll be heroes. Every mouthful of meat we eat this winter will be thanks to them. Why couldn’t that have been me?”

“Because someone had to make the weapons they’ll use to bring down the boars,” I replied. “Your father-in-law is a skilled blacksmith, but I’ve heard Father himself say that he can tell the difference between that man’s arrowheads and yours. He claims that the ones you forge fly true and strike more deeply. You should be proud of yourself, not
miserable. Or is this just your sly way of looking for compliments?” I nudged him and smiled.

He smiled back. “You always know the right thing to say, Little Sister. I’ll bet you could make anyone feel better just by talking them out of their troubles. Even if you’re not a shaman, you’re a fine healer in your own way.”

I began to say,
But I
am
a shaman! You know it! I might not be able to serve as one yet, but it’s still who I am!
Instead, I remained silent. Masa and everyone else in our village would know what I was soon enough. I’d gain nothing by making a fuss about it now.

On a strangely mild autumn evening a few days later, Michio came to pay our house a visit. “Pardon me for intruding,” he said from the doorway. “I was wondering if there had been any news from the hunters.”

Mama came forward to welcome him. “Come in, come in, Master Michio. They’ve been gone for only two days, so unless something horrible had happened, we wouldn’t hear anything of the hunting party yet. We were just about to have our dinner. You must join us.”

Our shaman looked self-conscious and uncharacteristically shy. “What was I thinking, asking such a silly question? Of
course
it’s much too soon to know anything about their progress. You must think I used that as an excuse to show up on your threshold just in time for a meal! I swear, it’s not so, though I wouldn’t blame you for refusing to believe it.”

“But I do believe you, Master Michio.” Mama smiled to put him at ease. “Why would you make up such a story
when you know you’re always welcome to share our food whenever you like?”

“And such good food too.” Michio grinned. “You are truly gracious to a lonesome man.”

Mama motioned him into our house. Before he took three steps, he was set upon by my younger brothers. They adored our shaman because he was always willing and able to play with them. First he stuck two fingers up on either side of his mouth and charged them, pretending to be a wild boar. They shrieked with laughter and ran away. He chased them until the four of them came dangerously close to knocking a dish out of Yukari’s hands as she and Emi worked to get our dinner ready.

“Watch where you’re going, you unruly things!” Yukari shouted. Her scolding transformed the wild boar into a heavy-footed
oni
, and when that dreadful mountain ogre swung his invisible club and threatened to gobble up bad little boys, Takehiko and Noboru flung themselves into a corner, giggling as they begged for mercy, while bold Sanjirou stood firm, claiming he’d found a magic stone that would turn the
oni
into something harmless. Michio the ogre froze in midroar and cried out in anguish that he’d been struck by a horrible spell and was becoming a pine tree! That was all the invitation that the boys needed to latch onto his legs and try to climb him. They all toppled to the floor and rolled around like puppies until Emi announced that dinner was ready. She seemed relieved.

When we finished, Michio patted his stomach and said, “Thank you for an excellent meal. You must let me do something for you, to show my appreciation.” We all tried
to dismiss his offer, insisting it was an honor to share our food with the shaman, but he refused to listen. “Winter will be here before we know it. The cold and damp can be especially hard on the very old and the very young.” He looked meaningfully at my little brothers. “I’ve been preparing medicines to care for our clanfolk who may get sick when the weather becomes harsh, but I’ve also tried to create a potion that might strengthen our bodies so that we don’t fall ill in the first place. I wasn’t able to make a lot of it, so it would be my pleasure if I could give some to you, for the little ones.”

“Does it work?” Emi asked.

Mama nearly snapped her head off. “What a thing to say to Master Michio! Shame on you, Emi.”

The shaman shrugged. “It’s a fair question. The truth is, I don’t know if it works or not, only that it won’t do any harm. Your sons will be no worse off if they take it than if they don’t. And if it does work, you’ll have good cause to rejoice.”

“That’s what you think, Master Michio.” Emi sniffed. “You’ve never tried to make my Sanjirou swallow something he doesn’t want to.”

“I’ll give him his first dose myself. But before that”—Michio wore an apologetic smile—“I have one small favor to ask. I want you to have the medicine tonight, so that I don’t forget to give it to you. I’m afraid that if I did, you’d all be much too polite to remind me. However”—he sighed—“your delicious dinner’s left me so lazy that I shrink from the thought of going from here to home, home to here, and back home again.” He turned a pleading face to me. “Dear
Lady Himiko, will you accompany me to my house and fetch the potion for your little brothers?”

I held back a smile. “If it will spare your old bones, I’ll do it willingly, Master Michio.”

As soon as we were away from my house, Michio snorted. “
Old bones
, eh?”

“Ancient,” I said, grinning by the light of the torch in my hand.

“Hmph! That’s the thanks I get for trying to help an ungrateful lizard like you.”

“Is this why you invented that story about a winter potion?” I asked calmly. “To be able to call me names where Mama can’t overhear what a bully you are?”

“It’s not a story, you impertinent egg. I
do
have a tonic that will be good for the little ones, and I
am
going to give it to you.” He sounded smug. “But that’s not the real reason I wanted you to come along with me.”

“That’s what I thought,” I said, matching his self-satisfied expression with one of my own. “And I don’t believe you came to our house tonight just to get fed. What’s on your mind, Master?”

“The same thing that should be on yours: your future as our clan’s next shaman. Your father is well away from here—I wanted to confirm that—and now that I know for sure that he won’t be back for many days, we can take the next step.”

“So it’s time,” I said. My heart rose. “At last.”

“At last,” he echoed in agreement. “Tomorrow at dusk we’ll meet at my sister’s tomb. You’ll perform the memorial rite, and then”—he stopped and clasped my hands—“then
I’ll proudly call on the whole Matsu clan to witness and welcome my sister’s true heir. Wear your best garments and your finest ornaments, Himiko. Find some autumn flowers to adorn your hair. I want the people to be awestruck at the sight of you when I lead you back through the gates, proclaiming your new place among us. By the time the hunters return, you’ll be so securely installed and accepted as a shaman that anyone who objects will look like they’re defying the will of the gods.”

“Master Michio, do you really think our kin will support me just because you tell them so?”

“They’ll do it because you’ll begin your duties at once. You will perform every healing; you will call out to the spirits for every blessing; you will dance for the gods where everyone can see. I won’t lift a finger or stir out of my house until the day the hunting party marches home. By then, the people will have all the proof they need that you truly are a shaman, because you’ll have provided it. Your father won’t be able to do a thing.”

I could hardly sleep that night. My mind was bubbling with anticipation. All the lessons, all the dreams, all the yearnings I’d ever had to serve the spirits were about to be fulfilled. There was a cold snap before dawn, a chill that left a thin, treacherous skin of ice over every surface and made my brothers and their mothers huddle together for warmth in a huge knot of bedclothes. I didn’t feel it at all. The memory of Michio’s confident words rang through my head and brought me visions of a bright future. Soon I would be living the life I’d chosen, freely treading the path I knew was right for me. No one would treat me like a child again, not
even Father, and if I wanted to travel through the mountains to see my friend Kaya, I’d do it openly, whenever I liked. Who could say no to a shaman of the Matsu? I burned with a fever of hope. How could I help but feel warm?

I don’t know how I made it through that day. Dusk couldn’t come fast enough for me. As soon as the sun goddess hid her face behind the line of peach and crimson clouds on the horizon, I picked up a basket and slipped out of the house before Mama, Emi, or Yukari could catch me.

The village felt deserted. Everyone was indoors, either preparing dinner or already kneeling down to eat. The only person who saw me leave was the watchman in the tower above our gates. I called out to him even though I knew he’d spotted me. I didn’t want my departure to seem suspicious, so I acted boldly.

“And where are you off to at such a time, Lady Himiko?” he asked, leaning down and smiling. I think he was glad to have some kind of diversion from the boredom of being on a lookout for threats that never seemed to come.

“Can’t you guess?” I held my basket high.
Let
him
decide what it is I’m supposedly venturing out to gather so late in the day
, I thought. “Mama asked me to help her. I’m not going far.”

“Ah, well, that’s all right, then. Your mother would sooner cut off her own arm than send you into danger. Just be sure to hurry home before it gets dark!”

“You sound just like her,” I replied, giggling, and ran.

I reached the burial ground ahead of Michio. There was still plenty of light in the sky, though the moon was already a sliver of silver against the dusty blue. I wasn’t afraid to be alone among the dead. I was a shaman. I knew the
spells that kept malicious ghosts at bay. I could sing the songs that soothed unhappy spirits. I could even recite the chants that would summon phantoms, though I knew better than to try.

And these were
my
people, my kin, my ancestors, even my unknown sisters and the little brothers who hadn’t lived past infancy. I could feel their nearness. It was almost comforting. I prayed that their spirits felt some consolation from my presence too.

“There you are!” Michio’s voice carried through the fading daylight. He was also holding a basket, though his was full. Together, we found the tall, square mound that marked Yama’s resting place. In the lengthening shadow of the tomb, he set down his basket, stepped back, and said, “Go ahead, Lady Himiko.” It was the first time he’d used my formal title in a long while.

I knelt beside the basket and unpacked it. Michio had brought everything I’d need to perform the rite: salt and wine, a pair of ornate bronze mirrors, a pine twig heavy with crisp-smelling needles, a newly shined bell, a flask that contained water so fresh that when I poured it into the clay bowl from the bottom of the basket, I could smell the green scent of mossy stones from the streambed. When I had all these things arranged in their proper order, I added two items of my own: my wand and my dragon stone amulet. The ritual I was about to perform was intended to revere the memory of my teacher, but it would also mark a new day for me. It was fitting to have the amulet Yama had given me, the stone that had been my birth gift from the gods, and the image of the goddess cradling that sun-bright stone all be a
part of this. I propped her against the side of the clay bowl, then on impulse picked her up again and let her slide from my fingers into the water.

I stood up and clapped my hands to draw the attention of the spirits, then began.

At first, I felt as though a great weight were dragging down my shoulders. When I scattered the salt and sprinkled the wine, my arms were heavy as stones. I understood that for secrecy’s sake, it would be unwise to raise my voice too loudly when I chanted the words imploring the powers of heaven and earth to bestow their favor and protection on my teacher. Still, I should have been able to do better than a rasping whisper! What was wrong with me? Why was I failing at the one thing that mattered most, under the eyes of the one person who would judge me worthy to be called a shaman or nothing?

Judge me worthy … judge me worthy …
The phrase nagged my mind and gnawed my heart.
Michio is watching, Michio is judging, Michio will notice if I don’t do this right, if I fail … fail … fail.…