Emperor of the Fireflies Page 11

  Ayaka felt a little shiver of pride. Such a dignified response; a lesser man would have lost his temper by now.

  “Surely your imperial majesty is not doubting his own powers?” Lord Kiyomori’s sly challenge provoked a general gasp from the courtiers. “Because only the true emperor has the god-given power to summon both dragons of Ebb and Flood at the same time, defying the laws of nature.”

  “Lord Kiyomori, you go too far.” Ayaka’s father turned on him. “That question is treasonable. How dare you suggest such a thing?”

  “But what has his imperial majesty to fear from such a demonstration?” Lord Kiyomori said, utterly unruffled by the outraged reaction of the courtiers of the Right. “After all, Flood and Ebb failed to appear when your brother summoned them, but they came readily enough to your call.” And, to Ayaka’s annoyance, the officials of the Left applauded their leader’s words.

  Hotaru held up his hand for silence.

  “I will have to consult with Abbot Genko and the Bureau of Onmyōdo first. It would not do to choose an inauspicious day to summon the Lords of the Sea.”

  “I propose the Autumn Moon Festival as an extremely auspicious day,” said Archbishop Gakudo. “What could be more appropriate than a Moon Festival to venerate the Lords of the Tides?”

  “His imperial majesty must do what he thinks fit,” said Lord Kiyomori, a keen edge to his nasal voice, “but I humbly suggest that the ceremony should take place as soon as possible.”

  Ceremony? Ayaka had a sudden unpleasant flash of memory, shockingly cold as the waters in which she had almost drowned.

  As long as I don’t have to perform the dance again, I suppose there’s no real danger.

  And yet she found herself shivering, reluctant to have to return so soon to that windswept shore where she had so very nearly drowned.

  ***

  Hotaru forced himself to conceal his fury at Lord Kiyomori’s challenge, maintaining as dignified and unconcerned a demeanor as he could manage until he reached his own quarters. But once inside, he tugged the heavy hat from his aching head and threw it on the floor while his servants watched in shocked silence.

  “Summon the Director of the Bureau of Divination,” he ordered. “And bring me some white tea.”

  When the pressures of court life became too great, Hotaru retreated to the calm of his private rooms. Expensive hangings from Xiang decorated the walls, delicate paintings on silk of bamboo groves and still lakes in whose limpid green waters distant mountains were reflected. In a far corner, a snow-white bird with long, elegant tail feathers was sleeping on a gilded perch, its head tucked under its wing.

  Sinking down on to jade cushions with the screen open on to an inner garden, Hotaru sipped his white tea, trying to order his thoughts and calm the agitated thudding of his heart.

  “Damn that crafty old fox Kiyomori. He’s called my bluff in front of the whole court. And Gakudo’s backed him up. Now what can I do?”

  “So your first audience as emperor did not go well?”

  “I thought you were asleep, Uguisu.” Hotaru turned to see that the graceful white bird was regarding him quizzically with one golden eye.

  “Merely dozing.” Uguisu, his first shikigami, preferred to conserve her strength by assuming her bird form, White Nightingale. “So what has the Minister of the Left done to make you so angry?”

  “Only demanded that I prove to the court that what happened at the Tide Festival was no ‘fluke’ – and summon the Tide Dragons again.”

  “Ah. That would indeed be a problem.”

  “Archbishop Gakudo has even chosen the day. The Autumn Moon Festival. There was no way I could refuse. ‘Because only the true emperor has the god-given power to summon both dragons of Ebb and Flood at the same time, defying the laws of nature.’”

  “So you have barely two months.”

  “But how can I gain control of them, without the Tide Jewels?”

  “What did your ancestor, Empress Himiko do? There must be accounts in the imperial library?”

  Hotaru set down his bowl; he had drunk the pale, fragrant tea without savoring its delicate flavor. Uguisu materialized beside him in her mortal form, dressed in an elegant white kimono embroidered with feathers, to pour more tea for him.

  “Perhaps your young wife should be attending on you, not me. . .”

  Was that a slight note of pique? “There’s no need for Ayaka to be involved in this side of my life,” he said, dismissing the suggestion.

  “So you haven’t told her about me? Or Kurika?” Her bright gold eyes rested on him.

  “Of course not.” He was surprised that she should even consider such a possibility. “And, talking of Kurika, where is he?”

  She shrugged. “That one does as he pleases. You give him far too much independence.”

  Hotaru frowned. He had not given Kurika permission to leave his rooms – and yet the shikigami was nowhere to be seen again. If only I didn’t have the feeling that – since the festival – he’s been testing me. It was hard to relax when he was unaware of Kurika’s whereabouts; a constant sense of uneasiness plagued him.

  “I’m off to the imperial archives. If Kurika appears, do all you can to hold him here until I return.”

  Nightingale merely replied with an incredulous little skirl of notes as if to say, ‘What makes you think he’ll pay any attention to me?’ and melted back into her cage.

  ***

  Hotaru returned to his rooms after a fruitless search for information in the imperial archives to find Kurika lounging around in his mortal form, amusing himself by flicking little flames from his talons to burn holes in one of Hotaru’s precious silk hangings.

  “That’s the second time you’ve disappeared without asking my permission.” Hotaru stared at the unrepentant Kurika. “Where did you go?”

  Kurika glowered at him but said nothing.

  “Answer me.” Hotaru pressed his fingers against the Sacrifice seal on his wrist. The matching seal on Kurika’s left breast glowed white hot and the shikigami let out a gasp of agony.

  “Have you forgotten the nature of our contract?” Kurika turned on him, words suddenly pouring out like a torrent of lava. “I vowed to serve you, just as the Tide Dragons vowed to serve Empress Himiko, at the cost of a sacrifice. And not just any sacrifice. To bind a shikigami, a mortal must offer the life of one very dear to them in exchange.”

  Aoi… Hotaru could not bear to be reminded of what he had sacrificed to tame the creature he had released from Inari’s shrine. And Kurika seemed to delight in tormenting him.

  “I want my mountain back.” Kurika’s flame-dark eyes burned into his. “I made you emperor. Now set me free, as you promised.”

  “It’s not yet time. I still need you, Kurika.” The prospect of ruling as emperor without Kurika to protect him was unthinkable.

  “Then prove it.” Kurika’s mortal form began to waver, breaking up into curling wisps of smoke. Hotaru swallowed a sigh of irritation.

  “I did not give you permission to go.” Why was the shikigami testing him now when there was so much to do? Hotaru reached into his sleeve and pulled out a paper charm inscribed in his own blood with the words of binding. “Kurika; I command you to stay by my side until I dismiss you.”

  Kurika, a column of seething black smoke lit by sparks, caught halfway between his mortal and spirit dragon form, trembled, and a convulsive shaking began to make the whole building vibrate. He’s resisting me. A precious porcelain ginger jar from Xiang tumbled off a cabinet and shattered on the floor.

  “Stop!” Hotaru shouted. Was Kurika already so far beyond his control that he was reverting to his original, destructive dragon-kami nature?

  The shaking slowly decreased as Kurika’s thundercloud manifestation dwindled and suddenly shrank back into his mortal form. The shikigami folded his powerful arms across his chest and scowled defiantly at his master.

  “Earthquake!”

  “Protect the emperor!”

  Hotaru he
ard the alarmed shouts of his servants and guards running to his aid.

  “Your majesty – are you all right?”

  “I’m unharmed,” Hotaru answered, keeping his eyes fixed on the willful shikigami, fearing that if he glanced away, he would lose the advantage and Kurika would test him again. “Please check on the empress and her ladies-in-waiting.”

  “The empress.” A hungry glow flickered through Kurika’s flame-shot eyes. Hotaru realized what the shikigami intended.

  “No. Not Ayaka.”

  Kurika shrugged.

  “You took Aoi’s life – and it still isn’t enough?”

  “You created the bond, using your onmyō powers. You understood the risks.”

  Hotaru clenched his fists, trying to keep control of his temper. Kurika knew only too well how to goad him. “I didn’t want her to die. I didn’t know she was so frail.”

  “Carrying a child can weaken a mortal woman’s constitution.”

  Hotaru flinched. “I told you,” he said, hearing his own voice as if from far away, “never to mention that again.” He could not bear to be reminded of the terrible cost Kurika had exacted in the forging of the bond. The nightmare of guilt and grief that he had endured when he had learned that his dying wife was expecting their child had almost destroyed him.

  “A sacrifice bond offers mortal life essence in exchange for the fealty of a kami. Perhaps there is someone else dear to your heart whom you could choose to sacrifice instead of Ayaka.” Kurika’s sly suggestion only served to twist the knife in Hotaru’s heart. “Your brother Suzaku, perhaps? But then you never cared much for him, did you? Not after your mother died. Not after he said such hurtful things about her. She was, after all, only the emperor’s second consort –”

  “Enough.” Hotaru arose. He was trembling, but with anger, not fear. He tore open his fine brocade robes, baring his chest to reveal the second hidden Sacrifice seal inked over his heart, pressing his fingers to it to activate the power within. He felt the fiery dragon emblem burn to life beneath his skin, flooding his body with Kurika’s energy. The shikigami staggered, then dropped to one knee as Hotaru drew out more of his essence, pouring all of his own strength into re-asserting his control over him. The searing pain that flared up around his heart was almost more than he could bear, but he knew that if he did not exercise his authority over the wayward shikigami, Kurika might try to break his hold over him for good.

  “Who is the master here? Say it. Say my name!” Flames scorched his chest, white-hot, as the fire within him raged on, yet he steeled himself to endure a little longer. “Obey me, Kurika.”

  “You –” gasped the shikigami, “– you – are my master, Lord Hotaru.” The rebellious light in his eyes flickered wildly, and then dulled to an ember glow.

  Hotaru drew out a paper charm, the characters scribed in his own blood, and pressed it to Kurika’s forehead. “Assume your lesser form. Know your place. Never defy me again.”

  “No!” The cry began as a furious roar but swiftly faded as Kurika began to shrink. His smoke-black hair swirled around him like a cloud, covering his fast-dwindling body, until all that remained was a little dog with dark fur the color of coal that bared its teeth and growled at him.

  Exhausted, Hotaru sank to his knees. There was one task still to perform. He grabbed the dog with one hand and drew out the collar that he had forced Kurika to wear when he first subdued him. The dog began to bark furiously, wriggling and snapping, but Hotaru managed to slip the collar around his neck and fasten it tightly.

  “Are you all right, Hotaru?” Ayaka slid open the door and entered.

  Hotaru hastily pulled his robes back into place to heal the fading seal.

  “That earth tremor was so strong! I thought –” And then she saw the little dog crouched at his side and let out a delighted cry. “You never told me you had a pet. He’s adorable! Is this one of the sleeve dogs from the imperial court of Xiang?” She put out one hand to stroke Kurika who, to Hotaru’s surprise, stopped yapping and nuzzled her fingers.

  “I believe they call them dragon dogs in Xiang,” he said warily. “Be careful, Ayaka, he can be quite vicious.”

  “Vicious? Surely not; this one is a darling.” And before he could stop her, she had scooped Kurika up into her arms. “You wouldn’t hurt Ayaka, would you?” she said, cuddling him. “What’s his name?”

  Hotaru watched in growing alarm as Ayaka hugged the furry bundle. Why was Kurika submitting to her caresses – and not just enduring them? He seemed to be enjoying the attention. “His name?” He hesitated, his mind blank. “K-Kuri,” he said in desperation.

  “Hallo there, little Kuri, we’re going to be friends, aren’t we?” She held the little dog up in front of her face until their noses almost touched. “Such deep red eyes. Is that why they’re called dragon dogs, Hotaru? I’ve never seen such a color before.”

  “Kuri is very rare.” Hotaru hovered, wanting to take “Kuri” away from Ayaka, afraid that even in this puny form and restrained by the charm in the collar, the shikigami might still try to work some mischief on her.

  “I always wanted a dog as a pet but father always said that dogs were best kept in packs for hunting or guarding the imperial treasure house. Can I look after him for a little?” Two pairs of eyes focused on him imploringly. Hotaru tried to conceal his anxiety. He was certain now that Kurika was scheming to outwit him and reveling in the mischief he was creating, even while bound by the charmed collar.

  The shikigami knew full well that he would never dare reveal the adorable pet’s true identity.

  “Very well,” he said, forcing a smile. The collar was engraved with powerful charms of binding; it should bind Kurika securely enough. A day or so of being petted and spoiled by Ayaka would be punishment enough.

  Ayaka kissed the little dog’s black nose. “We’re going to become such good friends, aren’t we, Kuri?” she said and Kuri let out a bark.

  “That’s so sweet,” she said delightedly, “it’s almost as if he understands exactly what I’m saying.”

  Chapter 13

  “Stop right there!”

  An argument had broken out in the main courtyard. Curious to discover what the fuss was about, Sakami came around the corner from the shrine to see that a group of fishermen had arrived and were being held at spear’s point by several of the Kites.

  “Who gave you permission to enter the compound?” Raiko, the loud-mouthed young Kite retainer, was stalking around them, hand on his katana hilt.

  “But we’ve brought the day’s catch as usual, my lord.”

  “You don’t just walk in through the gate! For all I know, you might have concealed weapons in those baskets –”

  “What’s wrong?” called Mai, her voice shrill with exasperation as she appeared from the kitchen. She marched straight over to Raiko and stared up at him fearlessly. “Really, my lord, all this fresh fish shouldn’t be left out in the full sun; it’ll go off before suppertime. Tell your men to lower their weapons – or there’ll be nothing edible for their meal tonight.” She turned to one of the fishermen and said, “Shouta, take your catch through to the kitchen.”

  “Now, wait just a moment –” began Raiko.

  “And thank you for your hard work,” added Mai as the fishermen took up their baskets and did as they were told.

  Sakami stared in admiration at Mai who stood, arms folded, exuding silent authority; almost overnight she had assumed the role of mistress of the kitchen.

  Yuna would be proud of you, taking no nonsense from that cocksure young Red Kite.

  “Those men need an entry permit,” Raiko said, obviously determined not to let Mai have the last word. “Anyone who comes in or out of the castle must show some form of identification.”

  “Your sentries will learn to recognize them soon enough,” she said, turning smartly on her heel and walking off briskly after them

  “Wait! I haven’t finished talking with you.”

  “I have work to do if you and L
ord Naoki want to eat this evening,” she said. “Those fish aren’t going to gut and scale themselves, you know.”

  Sakami almost gasped aloud; Mai would never have dared to speak so sharply to one of Lord Takeru’s retainers. She fully expected Raiko to take her to task for insolence, but all he did was bark an order to stand down to the guards, then disappear back inside the main house. Not before she had caught a glimpse of his face – and to her surprise, he was blushing.

  She hurried off after Mai to the kitchen to lend a hand preparing the evening meal, passing the fishermen coming away with their baskets empty.

  “A good catch today, thank the gods of the sea,” said Shouta, grinning at her.

  The gods of the sea? She felt a little shiver, wondering if Kai had helped them in some way, coaxing the fish into their nets to feed the extra mouths at the castle.

  Perhaps they’ll let me take some grilled fish to Shun. He needs to keep his strength up or his wound won’t ever heal properly. . .

  ***

  “Food for the prisoner?” The Kite guard loomed over Sakami but she stood her ground, telling herself silently that she would not let herself be intimidated. “Where’s the food for his jailer, then?”

  “Here.” She held out the bowl which she had filled with a generous helping of rice and a fish chargrilled on the bone. He looked down at Shun’s portion and then his own and gave a grunt. She held her breath, hoping that he was not going to send her away – or, worse still, eat Shun’s portion for himself. “I’ll give it him but I doubt he’ll touch it.”

  “Why not? You can tell him that Sakami made it.”

  The Kite gave her such an intimidating look that she took a step back.

  I forgot myself; I shouldn’t speak so boldly to the Red Kites.

  The man shrugged. “He’s sick.”

  “Sick?” That shoulder wound of his is still not properly healed. And the cells are damp and dirty, even in summer. “A fever?” Sakami began to fear the worst. “Can I see him?”

  “No visitors.”