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 inside 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 about Teruo?” 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 go and speak to my father. If there’s anything that appeals to you, take it. My father acquires them, b
ut 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.
I had never been in a room like it. Even the top floor of the tallest castle was not this high or this open to the elements. I wondered what happened when the autumn typhoons came racing up the coast. The building was sheltered by the curve of the island; to construct something like this spoke of an immense pride as great as any warlord’s.
Terada sat on a tiger skin facing the opened windows. Next to him on a low table were maps and charts, what looked like records of shipping, and a tube not unlike a bamboo flute. A scribe knelt at one end of the table, inkstone in front of him, brush in hand.
I bowed low to Terada and spoke my name and parentage. He returned the bow, which was courteous, for if anyone held power in this place it was undoubtedly he.
“I have heard a lot about you from my son,” he said. “You are welcome here.” He gestured to me to come and sit at his side. As I moved forward, the scribe touched his head to the ground and stayed there.
“I hear you dropped one of my men without laying a finger on him. How did you do it?”
“He used to do it to dogs when we were boys,” Fumio put in, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“I have some talents like that,” I said. “I did not want to hurt him.”
“Tribe talents?” Terada demanded. I had no doubt he’d made use of them himself and knew perfectly well what they might be.
I inclined my head slightly.
His eyes narrowed and his lips pouted. “Show me what you do.” He reached out and whacked the scribe on the head with his fan. “Do it to this man.”
“Forgive me,” I said. “Whatever small talents I have are not to be demonstrated as tricks.”
“Unnh,” he grunted, staring at me. “You mean you won’t perform on demand?”
“Lord Terada has put it exactly.”
There was a moment’s uneasy silence, then he chuckled. “Fumio warned me I wouldn’t be able to boss you around. You inherited more than the Otori look; you have their pigheadedness too. Well, I’ve not much use for magic—unless it’s the sort that anyone can wield.” He picked up the tube and placed its end against one eye, closing the other. “This is my magic,” he said, and handed the tube to me. “What do you think of this?”
“Put it to your eye,” Fumio said, grinning.
I held it gingerly, trying to sniff it unobtrusively in case it was poisoned.
Fumio laughed. “It’s safe!”
I squinted through the tube and couldn’t help gasping. The distant mountains, the town of Hagi, seemed to have leaped toward me. I took the tube away from my eye and they were back where they were before, hazy and indistinct. The Terada, father and son, were both chuckling now.
“What is it?” I said. It did not look or feel like something magic. It had been made by the hands of men.
“It’s a sort of glass, carved like a lentil. It makes objects larger and brings the distant close,” Terada said.
“Is it from the mainland?”
“We took it from a mainland ship and they have long had similar inventions there. But I believe this one was made in a distant country by the barbarians of the South.” He leaned forward and took it from me, looked through it himself, and smiled. “Imagine countries and people who can make such things. We think we are the whole world here on the Eight Islands, but sometimes I think we know nothing about anything.”
“Men bring reports of weapons that kill from a huge distance with lead and fire,” Fumio said. “We are trying to find some for ourselves.” He gazed out of the window, his eyes filled with restless yearning for that vast world beyond. I imagined confinement to the island was like imprisonment to him.
Something about the strange artifact before me and the weapons of which he spoke filled me with a sense of foreboding. The height of the room, the sheer drop to the rocks below, my own tiredness, made my head reel for a moment. I tried to breathe deeply, calmly, but I could feel cold sweat break out on my forehead and prickle in my armpits. I foresaw that alliance with the pirates would both increase their strength and open the way to a flood of new things that would change completely the society I was struggling to establish myself in. The room had gone silent. I could hear the subdued sounds of the household around me, the beat of the eagle’s wings, the distant hiss of the sea, the voices of the men at the port. A woman was singing quietly as she pounded rice, an old ballad of a girl who fell in love with a fisherman.
The air seemed to shimmer like the sea below, as though a veil of silk had been slowly withdrawn from the face of reality. Many months ago Kenji had told me that once all men had the skills that now only the Tribe retained—and among them only a handful of individuals like myself. Soon we would vanish, too, and our skills would be forgotten, overtaken by the technical magic that the Terada so desired. I thought of my own role in eradicating those skills, thought of the Tribe members I’d already destroyed, and felt a searing pang of regret. Yet I knew I was going to make a pact with the Terada. I would not recoil now. And if the far-seeing tube and the weapons of fire would help me, I would not hesitate to use them.
The room steadied. My blood flowed again. No more than a few moments had passed. Terada said, “I believe you have a proposal to make. I would be interested to hear it.”
I told him I thought Hagi could only be taken from the sea. I outlined my plan to send half my army as a decoy to tie up the Otori forces on the riverbank while transporting the other half by ship and attacking the castle itself. In return for help from the Terada, I would reinstate them in Hagi and keep a permanent fleet of warships under their command. Once peace was restored, the clan would finance expeditions to the mainland for the exchange of learning and trade.
“I know the strength and influence of your family,” I concluded. “I cannot believe that you will stay here in Oshima forever.”
“It is true that I would like to return to my family home,” Terada replied. “The Otori confiscated it, as you know.”
“It will be returned to you,” I promised.
“You are very confident,” he exclaimed, snorting with amusement.
“I know I can succeed with your help.”
“When would you make this attack?”
Fumio glanced at me, his eyes bright.
“As soon as possible. Speed and surprise are among my greatest weapons.”
“We expect the first typhoons any day now,” Terada said. “That’s why all our ships are in port. It will be over a month before we can put to sea again.”
“Then we’ll move as soon as the weather clears.”
“You’re no older than my son,” he said. “What makes you think you can lead an army?” br />
I gave him details of our forces and equipment, our base at Maruyama, and the battles we had already won. His eyes narrowed and he grunted, saying nothing for a while. I could read in him both caution and the desire for revenge. Finally he smacked his fan on the table, making the scribe flinch. He made a deep bow to me and spoke more formally than he had until now. “Lord Otori, I will help you in this endeavor and I’ll see you instated in Hagi. The house and family of Terada swear it to you. We give you our allegiance, and our ships and men are yours to command.”
I thanked him with some emotion. He had wine brought and we drank to our agreement. Fumio was elated; as I found out later, he had reasons of his own for wanting to return to Hagi, not least the girl he was to marry. The three of us ate the midday meal together, discussing troops and strategy. Toward the middle of the afternoon Fumio took me to the port to show me the ships.
Ryoma had been waiting on the quay, the tomcat sitting next to him. He greeted us effusively and followed me as closely as a shadow as we went on board the nearest ship and Fumio showed me around. I was impressed by its size and capacity and the way the pirates had fortified it with walls and shields of wood. It was fitted with huge canvas sails as well as many oars. The plan that had been a vague idea in my head suddenly became real.
We arranged that Fumio would send word to Ryoma as soon as the weather was favorable. I would begin moving my men north at the next full moon. The boats would come for us at the shrine, Katte Jinja, and would bring us to Oshima. We would make the assault on the city and the castle from there.
“Exploring Hagi at night—it’ll be just like old times,” Fumio said, grinning.
“I can’t thank you enough. You must have pleaded my cause with your father.”