“No,” Takeo replied.
“Luckily it missed the eye. It was you who threw it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“At least we don’t have to go searching for some Kikuta assassin.” Sada held Maya’s head still while Taku spread the paste over the wound; it seemed slightly sticky, like glue, and held the edges of the cut together. Maya sat without flinching, her lips curved as if she was about to smile, her eyes wide open. There was some strange bond between the three of them, Takeo thought, for the scene held a deep charge of emotion.
“Go with Sada,” Taku told Maya. “Give her something to make her sleep,” he said to Sada. “And stay with her all night. I will speak with her in the morning.”
“I am very sorry,” Maya said. “I did not mean to hurt my father.”
But her tone managed to suggest the opposite.
“We will devise a punishment that will make you sorrier still,” Taku said. “I am very angry, and I am sure Lord Otori is too.
“Come closer,” he then said to Takeo. “Let me see what she did to you.”
“Let’s go inside,” Takeo replied. “It is better that we speak in private.”
Telling the maids to bring fresh water and tea, Taku led the way to the small room at the end of the veranda. He folded the sleeping mats and pushed them to the corner. One lamp still burned, and next to it stood a flask of wine and a drinking bowl. Takeo surveyed the scene without saying anything.
“I had expected to see you before now,” he said, his voice cold. “I did not expect to meet my daughter in this way.”
“There is really no excuse,” Taku replied. “But let me treat your wound first; sit down, here, drink this.” He poured the last of the wine into the bowl and handed it to Takeo.
“You don’t sleep alone, but you drink alone?” Takeo emptied the bowl at one gulp.
“Sada doesn’t like it.” Two maids came to the door, one with water, one with tea. Taku took the bowl of water and began to bathe Takeo’s cheek. The scratches stung.
“Bring some more wine for Lord Otori,” Taku told the maid. “Quite a lot of blood,” he murmured. “The claws went deep.”
He fell silent as the maid returned with another flask. She filled the drinking bowl and Takeo drained it again.
“Do you have a mirror?” he asked her.
She nodded. “I will bring it for Lord Otori.”
She returned with an object wrapped in a dull-brown cloth, knelt and handed it to Takeo. He unwrapped it. It was unlike any mirror he had ever seen, long-handled, round, the reflective surface brilliant. He had rarely seen his own reflection—and never so clearly—and was now amazed by it. He had not known how he looked—very like Shigeru when he had last seen him, but thinner and older. The claw marks on his cheek were deep, scarlet-edged, the blood drying darker.
“Where did this mirror come from?”
The maid glanced at Taku and murmured, “From Kumamoto. A trader brings things from time to time, a Kuroda man, Yasu. We buy knives and tools from him—he brought this mirror.”
“Have you seen this?” Takeo asked Taku.
“Not this particular one. I have seen something similar in Hofu and Akashi. They are becoming quite popular.” He tapped the surface. “It is glass.”
The backing was some metal that Takeo did not immediately recognize, carved or molded into a pattern of interwoven flowers.
“It was made overseas,” he said.
“It looks like it,” Taku agreed.
Takeo looked again at his reflection. Something about the foreign mirror was bothering him. He made an effort to put it from him now.
“These marks will not fade for a long time,” he said.
“Unn,” Taku agreed, dabbing at the wound with a wad of clean paper to dry it; he then began to apply the sticky salve.
Takeo gave the mirror back to the maid. When she had left, Taku said, “What was it like?”
“The cat? The size of a wolf, and possessing the Kikuta gaze. You have not seen it yourself?”
“I have sensed it within her, and a few nights ago Sada and I caught a glimpse of it. It can pass through walls. It is extremely powerful. Maya has been resisting it in my presence, though I have tried to persuade her to let it appear. She has to learn to control it—at the moment it seems to take her over when her guard is down.”
“And when she is alone?”
“We cannot watch her all the time. She must be obedient; she must be held responsible for her own actions.”
Takeo felt anger blaze suddenly. “I did not expect that the two people to whom I entrusted her would end up sleeping together!”
“I did not expect it, either,” Taku said quietly. “But it happened and will continue.”
“Perhaps you should return to Inuyama, and your wife!”
“My wife is a very practical woman. She knows I have always had other women, in Inuyama and on my travels. But Sada is different. I don’t seem to be able to live without her.”
“What idiocy is this? Don’t tell me you are bewitched!”
“Maybe I am. I may as well tell you that wherever I go, she will come with me, even to Inuyama.”
Takeo was astonished, both that Taku should be so infatuated and that he made no effort to conceal it.
“I suppose this explains why you have stayed away from the castle.”
“Only partly. Until the previous episode with the cat, I was there every day with Hiroshi and Lord Kono. But Maya was very distressed and I did not want to leave her. If I brought her with me, Hana would be sure to recognize her, ask questions about her. The fewer people to know about this possession, the better. It’s not the sort of report that Kono should take back to the capital. I am thinking of your plans for your older daughter’s marriage. I don’t want to give Hana and Zenko any more weapons to use against you. I don’t trust either of them. I’ve had some disturbing conversations with my brother about the headship of the Muto family. He is determined to insist on his right to succeed Kenji, it seems, and there are some—I don’t know how many—who are not happy with the idea of a woman in authority over them.”
So he had been right in his instinct not to trust the Muto unquestioningly.
“Would these same malcontents accept you?” Takeo asked.
Taku poured more wine for them both, and drank. “I don’t want to offend you, Lord Takeo, but these things have always been decided within the family, not by outsiders.”
Takeo took his own cup and drank without replying. Finally he said, “You are full of bad news tonight. What else do you have to tell me?”
“Akio is in Hofu, and, as far as we can find out, plans to winter in the West—I fear he is going to Kumamoto.”
“With—the boy?”
“It seems so.” Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Then Taku said, “It would be easy enough to get rid of them in Hofu, or on the road. Let me arrange it. Once Akio is in Kumamoto, if he contacts my brother, he will find a welcome there, even a refuge.”
“No one is to lay a hand on the boy.”
“Well, only you can decide that. One other thing I’ve learned is that Gosaburo is dead. He wanted to negotiate with you for his children’s lives, so Akio killed him.”
For some reason this news, and the bluntness of Taku’s delivery, shook him profoundly. Gosaburo had ordered the deaths of many—one, at least, Takeo had carried out himself—but that Akio should turn on his uncle, as well as Taku’s suggestion that he himself should have his own son killed, reminded him forcefully of the relentless cruelty of the Tribe. Through Kenji, he had kept them in check, but now his control of them was being challenged. They had always claimed that warlords might rise and fall, but the Tribe went on forever. But how would he deal with this intractable enemy who would never negotiate with him?
“Therefore you must come to a decision about the hostages in Inuyama,” Taku said. “You should order their execution as soon as possible. Otherwise the Tribe will scent weakness, and
that will cause more dissent.”
“I will discuss it with my wife when I am back in Hagi.”
“Don’t leave it too long,” Taku urged him.
Takeo wondered if Maya should return with him—but he feared for Kaede’s peace of mind, and her health during her pregnancy. “What will we do with Maya?”
“She can stay with me. I know you feel that we have let you down, but despite tonight we are making progress with her. She is learning to control the possession—and who knows what use we may be able to make of her. She tries to please Sada and me—she trusts us.”
“But surely you do not plan to stay away from Inuyama all winter?”
“I should not move too far from the West. I need to keep an eye on my brother. Maybe I will winter in Hofu—the climate is milder, and I can hear all the gossip that comes through the port.”
“And Sada will go with you?”
“I need Sada, especially if I am to take Maya.”
“Very well.” His private life is none of my business, Takeo thought. “Lord Kono will also go to Hofu. He is returning to the capital.”
“And you?”
“I hope to get home before winter. I will stay in Hagi until our child is born. Then in the spring I must go to Miyako.”
TAKEO RETURNED TO Maruyama castle just before dawn, drained by the events of the night, wondering what he was doing as he summoned up all his flagging energy to take on invisibility, scale the walls, and get back to his room undetected. His earlier pleasure in the skills of the Tribe had faded. Now he felt only distaste for that dark world.
I am too old for this, he told himself as he slid open the door and stepped inside. What other ruler sneaks around his own country at night in this way, like a thief? I escaped the Tribe once, and thought I had left it forever, but it still enmeshes me, and the legacy I have passed on to my daughters means I will never be free.
He was deeply disturbed by all he had uncovered and, above all, by Maya’s state. His face smarted; his head ached. Then the mirror came back to him. It indicated foreign goods were being traded in Kumamoto. But the foreigners were supposed to be confined to Hofu, and now Hagi—were there other foreigners in the country? If they were in Kumamoto, Zenko must be aware of it, yet he had said nothing about it—neither had Taku. The idea that Taku was hiding something from him filled Takeo with anger. Either Taku was hiding it or he did not know. The affair with Sada also troubled him. Men become careless when they are ensnared by passion. If I cannot trust Taku, I am doomed. They are brothers, after all…
The room was light already by the time he slept.
When he woke, he ordered arrangements to be made for his departure, and instructed Minoru to write to Arai Zenko, requesting that he wait on Lord Otori.
It was afternoon when Zenko came, carried in a palanquin and accompanied by a train of retainers, all in splendid dress, the bear’s paw of Kumamoto clearly displayed on robes and banners. Even in the few months since they had met at Hofu, Zenko’s appearance and retinue had changed. He had become more like his father than ever, physically imposing and with increased self-confidence. His demeanor, his men and all their garments and weapons, spoke of lavishness and self-regard.
Takeo himself had bathed and dressed with care for this meeting, putting on the formal robes that seemed to increase his stature with their stiff wide shoulders and long sleeves. But he could not mask the wound on his cheek, the raking slashes, and Zenko exclaimed when he saw it, “But what happened? You are hurt? Surely there has not been some attack on you? I had heard no news of it!”
“It’s nothing,” Takeo replied. “I walked into a branch in the garden last night.” He will think I was drunk, or with a woman, he thought, and will despise me even more. For he caught in Zenko’s expression scorn as well as dislike and resentment.
The day was cool and damp, rain having fallen in the morning. The red leaves of the maples had turned darker and were beginning to drift downward. Now and then, gusts of wind blew suddenly through the garden, making the leaves flutter and dance.
“When we met in Hofu earlier this year, I promised we would discuss the question of adoption at this time,” Takeo said. “You will understand that my wife’s pregnancy makes it advisable to delay any formal proceedings.”
“Of course we all heartily hope that Lady Otori gives you a son,” Zenko replied. “Naturally, my sons would never take precedence over yours.”
“I am aware of the trust you have placed in my family,” Takeo said. “And I am deeply grateful to you. I regard Sunaomi and Chikara as my own children…” He thought he saw Zenko’s disappointment, and felt, I must offer him something. He paused for a moment.
He had promised the opposite to his daughters, and he did not approve of betrothing children while they were still young, yet he found himself saying, “I would like to propose that Sunaomi and my youngest daughter, Miki, be betrothed when they come of age.”
“It is a very great honor.” Zenko did not sound overwhelmed by this suggestion, though his words were entirely appropriate. “I will discuss your unsurpassed kindness with my wife when we receive the formal documents of all the offer entails—what estates they will receive, where they are to live, and so on.”
“Of course,” Takeo said, thinking, And I must discuss it with my wife. “They are both still very young. There is plenty of time.” At least the offer is made. He cannot claim that I have insulted him.
Shigeko, Hiroshi, and the Miyoshi brothers joined them shortly after this, and the discussion moved on to the military defenses of the West, the threat or lack of it posed by the foreigners, the produce and materials in which they wanted to trade. Takeo mentioned the mirror, asking idly if many such objects were to be purchased in Kumamoto.
“Perhaps,” Zenko replied evasively. “They are imported through Hofu, I suppose. Women love such novelties! I believe my wife has received several as gifts.”
“So there are no foreigners in Kumamoto?”
“Of course not!”
Zenko had brought records and accounts of all his activities: the weapons he had forged, the niter he had purchased; everything seemed to be in order, and he repeated his protestations of fealty and allegiance. Takeo could do no more than accept the records as genuine, the protestations as sincere. He spoke briefly about the proposed visit to the Emperor, knowing that Kono would have already discussed it with Zenko; he emphasized its peaceful nature, and told Zenko that both Hiroshi and Shigeko would accompany him.
“What about Lord Miyoshi?” Zenko asked, glancing at Kahei. “Where will he be next year?”
“Kahei will stay in the Three Countries,” Takeo replied. “But he will move to Inuyama until my safe return. Gemba comes with us to Miyako.”
No one mentioned that most of the forces of the Middle Country would be waiting on the Eastern borders under Miyoshi Kahei’s command, but it would not be possible to keep this news from Zenko. Takeo thought fleetingly of the dangers of leaving the Middle Country unprotected—yet both Yamagata and Hagi were almost impossible to take by siege, and they would not be undefended. Kaede would hold Hagi against any attack, and Kahei’s wife and sons would do the same in Yamagata.
They continued talking until late in the evening, while wine and food were served. As Zenko took his leave, he said to Takeo, “There is one more thing we should discuss. Will you step outside on the veranda? I should like it to be in private.”
“Certainly,” Takeo agreed with affability. It was raining again; the wind was cold. He was tired, craving sleep. They stood under the cover of the dripping eaves.
Zenko said, “It is about the Muto family. My impression is that many in my family, throughout the Three Countries, while they have the greatest respect for my mother and yourself, feel it is—how can I put it?—unlucky, even wrong, to have a woman as their head. They consider me to be Kenji’s oldest male relative, and therefore his heir.” He glanced at Takeo. “I don’t want to offend you, but people know of the existence of Ken
ji’s grandson, Yuki’s boy. There are whisperings that he should inherit. It could be a sensible move to institute me quickly as head of the family—it would silence these whisperings and reassure those in favor of upholding tradition.” A slight smile of satisfaction played briefly on his face.
“The boy is of course heir to the Kikuta,” he went on. “Better to keep him away from the Muto.”
“No one knows if he is alive or not, let alone where he is,” Takeo said, all pretense at affability stripped from him.
“Oh, I think they do,” Zenko whispered, and, noticing Takeo’s immediate reaction of anger, added, “I am only trying to assist Lord Otori in this difficult situation.”
If he were not my brother-in-law, if his mother were not my cousin and one of my oldest friends, I would order him to take his own life! I must do it. I can not trust him. I must do it now, while he is in Maruyama and in my power.
Takeo was silent while the conflicting thoughts raged. Finally he said, striving for mildness, “Zenko, I must advise you not to push me any further. You have vast estates, sons, a beautiful wife. I have offered you a deeper alliance with my family through marriage. I value our friendship and hold you in the highest esteem. But I will not allow you to challenge me…”
“Lord Otori!” Zenko protested.
“Or to bring civil war on our country. You have sworn allegiance to me; you owe me your life. Why do I have to keep repeating this? I am weary of it. For the last time, I am advising you to return to Kumamoto and enjoy this life you owe me. Otherwise I will demand that you end it.”
“You will not consider my thoughts on the Muto inheritance?”
“I insist that you support your mother as head of the family and obey her. Anyway, you have always chosen the way of the warrior—I do not understand why you are interfering with the workings of the Tribe now!”
Zenko was as furious now, and masked it less successfully. “I was raised by the Tribe. I am as much a Muto as Taku.”
“Only when you see some political advantage in it! Do not think you can continue unchecked to undermine my authority. Never forget I hold your sons as hostages to your loyalty.”