L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane Page 4

  "I think Kakita Moshi needs to be shown before I can allow him to represent his school on the tournament field. Can you assist me?"

  Although Hoturi seemed to weigh the request against his courtly obligations, Toshimoko could see that it was only a political maneuver.

  Shizue knelt beside her half-brother and whispered polite words of greeting.

  "Please, Lord Hoturi," she smiled. "Allow me to entertain your guests with a story while you aid your fallen cousin in his studies."

  Good girl, Toshimoko thought, smiling. No matter how arrogant or impatient, no guest could refuse a story from the emperor's own tale spinner.

  Hoturi nodded seriously and smoothly stood from the cushion. Removing his elaborate vest and headpiece, he offered them to a nearby Daidoji bodyguard for safekeeping. Taking the proffered weapon from Toshimoko's hand, he stepped from the dais and motioned for Kakita Moshi to stand. The two bowed formally to each other and settled into position.

  Warily, the youth took a solid stance. He shifted the sword in his hand to a defensive shite position and awaited Hoturi's attack.

  Toshimoko strode around the two for a moment, well aware their actions were being watched by half the samurai on the practice field. "Moshi!"

  "Hai, Sensei!"

  "You are too old to be reminded of your timing." Behind his back, Toshimoko shifted his fingers, knowing Hoturi could see them. "Ma-ai, the essence of superior timing, is critical. Your opponent will not warn you of his strike." Toshimoko's voice was deliberately rhythmic. He watched as the student absorbed each syllable. "You cannot expect the strike, for it will come when you least—" With a hidden movement, he commanded Hoturi to attack.

  The Crane Champion responded with blinding swiftness. The single motion, feebly blocked, glanced into the Kakita's belly. With bokken pressed against the student's abdomen, Hoturi stood calmly. His face twitched, suppressing a grin.

  "Who are you?" Toshimoko shouted to his student, invoking the ancient oath of the academy.

  "Kakita!" the call resounded from twenty throats, echoed by the duelists in the gathering crowd,

  Hoturi stepped back, lowering the bokken and nodding his head to the defeated Kakita Moshi. Echoing the shout, Hoturi raised his fist into the air and listened to the resonant voices of the gathered Crane samurai.

  Some said a champion's place was not beside his men, but in front of them. The whispers of courtiers proved only that they had never touched the true sword of a Kakita duelist, never known the hand of a sword brother, or fought, eaten, and lived at the side of students, masters, and ancestors.

  Remembering his years of study at their side, Doji Hoturi lifted his fist again, and again the name of Kakita rang in the crisp autumn morning. In that moment, Hoturi was only another member of the school, another brother who owed his life to his brothers' swords.

  Smiling as the cheers faded, Doji Hoturi handed the bokken to his opponent.

  "It was my honor to fight you, Lord Hoturi-sama." The young man said reverently. "No matter how I do in the tournament, on this day I have been defeated by the two finest swordsmen our clan has to offer." He turned, bowed respectfully to his sensei, and gathered the bokken.

  Hoturi chuckled.

  Toshimoko saw the stress fade from the champion's eyes.

  A low voice from the crowd caught his ear. "Of course he does well against a half-educated boy. It is too bad we cannot see how the champion of the Crane would fight against a fully trained Lion."

  Anger leapt into Hoturi's gray eyes, obscuring the pride that had filled them.

  The words had come from the Ikoma. In full battle armor, he leaned arrogantly on the length of a wooden bo staff. His brown eyes were hard and cold, his gloved hands twisted about the bo, and his lips curved into a bitter smile.

  "It is not the place of the champion to fight on the day of the festival," Hoturi said, and the words were made of ice. "This is a day of celebration, Ikoma. Let it be so."

  Toshimoko watched as the Lion bowed slightly less deeply than protocol would demand. Behind them, courtiers of all clans watched in sadistic fascination, hoping to see the argument blossom into a political occasion. Toshimoko knew his student better than they did, and he understood the restraint necessary to keep from slicing the Ikoma's head from his arrogant body.

  Hoturi returned the bow properly, only his eyes noting the fact that he had been insulted. "Sensei Toshimoko-san?"

  "Hai, Hoturi-sama?" Toshimoko leapt forward as his champion called his name.

  "Although it is not seemly that I join the fighting on this day, I would not want to see our Lion friend disappointed on the field of combat, I would like you to enter the trials, and ensure he has a fitting opponent for his ... training."

  Without the faintest touch of a smile, Kakita Toshimoko bowed first to his champion, and then to the suddenly stoic Ikoma Jushin. "As you wish, my lord," he said, raising his eyes to meet the Lion's. "It will be my honor to exchange lessons with a Lion."

  Oh yes, thought Toshimoko. This was going to be a most excellent morning.

  xxxxxxxx

  The honorable daimyo of the Kakita was resplendent in his silver-blue kimono, leading his assistant, Shizue, and her three handmaidens into the grand hall. When Yoshi stepped through the sliding shoji screens of the main room, a faint sigh of appreciation wavered among the guests. Yoshi smiled.

  The fighting had ceased and the armor had been put away, the swords were encased in colorful obi, and bushi of the six great clans feasted on delicate rice and fish. Elaborate fusuma screens festooned the palace's largest hall. Brightly colored paper lanterns cast a soft light around the room. The massive fireplace blazed, warming and brightening the stone chamber and reflecting from the white-painted faces of the ladies. Bowing like willows, the most beautiful women in the empire vied with the fire for attention. Their smiles sparkled and danced among boldly dressed samurai. Here gathered the highborn folk, those invited to the private festivals of the wealthiest clan in Rokugan.

  This was Kakita Yoshi's battlefield, his home. The manipulations of the court were as natural to him as breathing.

  Shizue greeted the Phoenix ambassador, slowing her pace to fail farther behind her master. Yoshi was delaying discussions with the Phoenix, and Shizue skillfully screened his escape. Her handmaidens fanned out, their dark blue robes sparkling with painted scenes of rivers and elaborate waterfalls. No expense was spared for the assistants of the Kakita Daimyo, and each movement was as precise as a master's calligraphy.

  Let the shugenja have their spells and the swordsmen their weapons. There was no practice in the empire as dangerous or as exciting as this.

  Now the games would begin.

  Kakita Yoshi raised his fan from his obi. He smiled politely to the visitors who bowed before him and ignored his three Daidoji bodyguards. They growled and hovered like overprotective wolves. Among the courtiers, frankly curious stares greeted his choice of kimono. Beneath the silver-blue of the Crane, a second kimono peeped. Its golden tan reflected the color of the Lion Clan. Let them wonder, Yoshi thought, noting a gruff Ikoma Jushin resting his bruised ribs by the fireplace. Let them remember that silver and gold are the colors of the emperor's own heir. Bold, yes, Yoshi smiled, but effective.

  One of the first to approach through the mingling crowd was the Crab Tsuru, who bowed respectfully and offered Yoshi appropriate greetings.

  "My Lord Kakita," the Hida began, adjusting his obi as he bowed, "from the clan of the Crab, you have our gracious thanks for your hospitality and friendship. My lord offers his own, should you or your family be inclined to visit the lands of the Great Wall."

  No chance of that ever occurring, thought Yoshi, but no sign of his emotion showed on his elegant face. The Crab had obviously practiced the greeting for weeks and, at least, had the inflections correct.

  "My Lord Hida-san," Kakita Yoshi bowed gently, his form moving like a reed in the wind, "your words do us honor. The Crab Clan is known for their solid support of
the empire, and their bravery upon the Wall of the South. We are the ones honored that your lord could spare you and your retainers for our humble diversions."

  Confused by the faint implication that the Crab Champion did not need him, Tsuru nodded. "The battles at the Wall go well this season, and the creatures of the Shadow-lands are few."

  "So I have heard." The daimyo of the Kakita smiled, his sonorous voice carrying over nearby conversations. "It is well that your Lord Kisada keeps such a large standing army in his northern provinces, just in case the attacks at the Wall should begin in earnest. I would not want the empire to be overrun by the creatures, and your Lord Kisada's constant vigilance does your clan honor." A few eyebrows raised at the mention of the standing Crab army, but Yoshi s guests pretended not to notice the implications.

  "Not at all, Yoshi-sama," Tsuru smiled, fooled by Yoshi s feigned interest. "The army of the Crab is fifty thousand men strong, trained in battle with goblins and oni. They are prepared to handle any threat."

  "Any threat at all . . . save the threat of time." Yoshi's fan snapped shut carefully. "After all, your army camps over three days from the Kaiu Kabe, and the bushi do not carry jade for curing the Taint. Surely Kisada-sama does not believe Shadowlands creatures have slipped through Crab lines."

  "No, of course not. The Crab serve the empire well. Nothing moves past us." Tsuru's chest puffed with indignation.

  A matron of the Phoenix smiled mockingly at the man's ignorance.

  "Of course not, Tsuru-san. Nothing at all goes past the Crab." Without a hint of amusement, Yoshi turned to his handmaiden. "Okasako?" He asked her, and she bowed beautifully. "Please show Tsuru-san our gift."

  Reaching into her kimono sleeve, the Kakita maiden withdrew a small figurine of jade and diamond. Although carefully wrapped in tissue, the form of the statuette was clear through the coverings. Tsuru would open it later, when none were present to see, but for now, the point had been made.

  "This is for you, my guest, that your house may grow and prosper in the absence of its enemies."

  "Oh, no, Kakita-sama," Tsuru bowed politely as he began the customary refusals. Although the Crab was trying to make a good impression, his feet were too far apart—too much like a martial stance. The Crab would simply never learn. "It is too fine a gift for me, and I cannot accept."

  "Good and honored Crab," Yoshi began, tapping the statuette lightly with the tip of his fan, "you have already stated that Crane lands are safe of any infestation from the Shadow-lands, or your armies would know of such a danger. I am in no need of its protective qualities, but I know that when you return to your Lord Kisada, you will once more be upon the Great Wall, and will have need of it. Please, take it to guard your body from the Taint of the Shadowlands." Skillfully, Yoshi maneuvered the Crab's words, receiving exactly the answer he had expected.

  "Oh, no, I will not be joining the armies on the Wall, but rather, the legions in the Yasuki provinces, just south of Kakita lands. There is little need for jade with no Shadow-lands to fight, and your gift is too expensive and beautiful for my rough hands. I beg you, give it to some bushi more in need of jade than I."

  Well spoken, for a Crab, Yoshi thought, but now you have told me where your legion will be camped after you have left the festival. Well spoken, but poorly played. "Humble Hida-san, your troops will not always be at the edge of the lands of the Crane." Heads turned slightly as Yoshi's voice rose. The pitch and timbre were gentlemanly, but to those who knew the language of the court, his intention was clear. "And when they move south—" a delicate emphasis on his last word— "you will again have need of this. As will your Lord Yakamo, so that he might live to see the day he will become your champion." The hidden threat passed the Crab's dull ears, and Tsuru smiled in pride at the mention of the son of Kisada. "If you cannot take it for yourself, give it to him, that he knows he has an ally in the lands beneath the emperor's own heart."

  Yakamo had an ally—Yakamo, not Kisada, whose troops hungered for Kakita lands. Kisada saw an opportunity in the Lion aggression to the north. Yakamo made no such threats toward the Crane. The implication was deliberate.

  As the Crab bowed and accepted the gift, guests clapped politely. The fluttering applause in the chamber sounded like the flight of birds, birds bearing messages to the other clans: a warning that the Crane would not tolerate troops marching upon its borders, a reminder that the Crane were the closest in blood to the Hantei, and an assurance that the Crane enjoyed the adoration of the emperor.

  As Tsuru accepted the small statuette, Yoshi bowed slightly less than before and turned toward the far end of the room.

  Enough games with children. The Crab had been no more than a ruse—an important one, but a ruse nevertheless. It was time to deal with the Lion and their "ambassador," Jushin.

  Shizue and her handmaidens fell into place behind Yoshi as he crossed the elaborate chamber. Brilliantly colored kimonos flashed as maidens bowed, hoping to catch the attention of the most eligible bachelor in Rokugan. Yoshi ignored them. The attractions of love paled beside the whispers of the court. Love, in Yoshi's estimation, was no more than a tool to catch the unwary. Unlike others, he would never be its pawn.

  Hoturi had ordered Yoshi and Toshimoko to greet the Ikoma samurai at this meal. The honor would help alleviate any anger left from the abject beating the Ikoma had received on the tournament field. How amusing.

  Bowing to Jushin as he neared the Lion's table, Yoshi turned to Shizue. "My lady Doji," he gestured toward the table, "would you be so kind as to entertain the Ikoma with a tale? They seem ill at ease, and I would not have such sorrowful faces in my house."

  "Of course, Daimyo." She was beautiful, despite her odd foot, and her smile brightened the court. He knew the tale she would tell, and as she captured the Ikoma's attention, Yoshi stepped lightly away.

  "Once, there was a great warrior named Akodo, daimyo of the Lion Clan and master of the sword...."

  "Is that wise, Yoshi?" Toshimoko asked peevishly as his younger brother approached the table. The two men were more than fifteen years' apart in age, their faces and bodies as different as their lives. Beneath their exteriors, though, twin fires of competition burned. The Kakita blood was strong in their veins, and it showed in Toshimoko's dedication to the school of swordsmanship as well as in Yoshi's ardent political conquests. The house of Kakita was strong.

  "Of course it is wise, Brother," Yoshi said with a smile. "She reminds them of a former time of glory. Let them remember the Akodo as heroes and not as dishonored ghosts." Yoshi continued, "And it is at least as wise as breaking the man's bokken in tournament."

  "Not my fault. He has a poor stance."

  "Brother, you exaggerate. I'm certain the Lion's stance was as perfect as his school." The idle flattery turned to an insult on Yoshi's lips, despite his winning smile.

  His brother laughed, pounding softly on the table. Passersby wondered what jest the Kakita Daimyo had made.

  "Where are the Asahina?" Toshimoko asked. "If I have to suffer through this courtly babble, that old pacifist Tamako had better have to sit through it as well."

  "Tamako sent his regrets, my brother. The Asahina are busy studying for the peace of their souls and fighting the demons that threaten their enlightenment. They pray for our prosperity, but they do not join us at court." Yoshi turned, bowing lower as Hoturi nodded his head. "Lord Champion."

  "Yoshi-san. loin us."

  "Of course, my lord." Yoshi sat nimbly, reclining on his knees.

  "The Asahina." Toshimoko snorted. "They never come out of that dratted temple. All day, their daimyo, Tamako, prays and studies; studies and prays. Useless."

  "They are the finest healers in the empire, old man." Hoturi's voice was gently chiding. "Their skills are unmatched."

  "As is their foolishness. I hear they have refused to fight, even if the Crab and Lion attack," Toshimoko said.

  "That is their way. They are servants of life and peace. They will not endure war." Yoshi whispered,
raising his fan as courtiers approached the Crane Champion's table. Such talk was not for the masses.

  Courtiers stepped up to the table, bowing and introducing themselves in an endless stream of pleasant words. Artisans danced, and musicians played soft tunes, but Hoturi's somber face did not change.

  "It's Tsuko," Toshimoko said, as if reading Hoturi's thoughts. "She will stop at nothing to capture Osari."

  "No talk of battle here, Brother."

  "Why not? There is talk of battle all around us. The Lion sit with the Crab, and as far as the Unicorn are concerned, figoku can take all three."

  "That makes it even more important that we appear unconcerned," Hoturi murmured as he saw the guests on the wide wooden floors begin to part with an appreciative murmur. "If our strength is questioned, it will be tested."

  "Bah," Toshimoko snorted, rubbing a bruise the Ikoma had given him. "Satsume would never have cared...." The rest of his sentence died as Hoturi's lips turned white. "The Crane have never been weak. We have the emperor's blood, and the Hantei's ear."

  Lloturi had already stopped listening.

  Faint applause rippled among the assembled nobles, and two maidens approached through a space that widened as they moved. One of them held a thick biwa, twelve-stringed and made of wood that had browned with extreme age. The other held her painted face high as she walked, every inch regal and exquisite in a kimono as blue as the sky. Her green eyes smiled into Hoturi's. Both maidens bowed precisely ten steps from his low table.

  "My wife," Hoturi began, speaking loudly enough for the entire court to hear. "You do us honor with your presence."

  "My husband," she replied softly, knowing even the farthest guest in the room would hang on her every word, "I would do you honor with a dance, if you would care to lose the time watching."

  "Nothing is lost when you are here, Ameiko-gozen." The noble title was appropriate in such a large and formal group, though perhaps too esteemed for a woman with no noble blood. Still, as wife of the Crane Champion, Ameiko was entitled to certain indulgences.

  At Hoturi's side, Yoshi smiled behind his fan, knowing the title had been noted. Many in the empire fancied rumors about Hoturi and his young wife. Let them whisper all they want about the lack of an heir, Yoshi thought. They cannot blame Hoturi for his father's weaknesses.