The Flood Dragon's Sacrifice Read online

  Masao understood now why the contents of the hut had been placed so far from the clan’s living quarters. “Fire drug?” he said. Now he remembered when he had smelled that acrid scent before. “You mean the same stuff that they put in New Year fireworks?” And then he stopped, gazing at his clan lord. “You want me to operate the iron dragon?”

  “Only if there’s any sign of trouble at Tenryu Bay.”

  Masao stared at the unfamiliar weapon. He knew how to wield a katana. He knew how to draw a bow. Both disciplines required long hours of training and skill, whereas this eruptor needed a different kind of expertise altogether. There was no honor or skill in lighting a fuse. “Surely I need instruction? Wouldn’t it be better if Master Kinkiyo did it?”

  Okitane let out a grunt of irritation. “Lord Toshiro is doing you a great honor, Masao, in putting you in charge of this unique weapon.”

  “I’ll send one of the forge apprentices to assist you,” said Kinkiyo.

  But Masao was still unhappy at the prospect of using the new weapon, untried and untested. “Our ships are made of wood and canvas. Suppose the fire drug catches our own vessel alight when we set it off?”

  “I find it interesting that you use the word ‘when,’ Masao.” Masao glanced up to see Lord Toshiro regarding him with a wry expression. “So you anticipate trouble with the Cranes?”

  “No, my lord.” Which wasn’t entirely the truth. “I was just assessing the risks in carrying such a dangerous weapon on board.”

  “And that’s why I chose you to be in charge of it. Not so very different, maybe, from watching over my volatile and unpredictable son?”

  Chapter 6

  “Have you seen this, Reika? It’s Lady Ukifune’s Pillow Book. And it’s absolutely scandalous!” Lady Ayaka gracefully raised one hand so that her trailing embroidered sleeve covered the deep blush that she could feel spreading across her face and down her throat. “I had to pay a great deal for this copy; they’re in such demand that I had to bribe the bookseller to reserve it for me. Everyone is reading it.”

  “I haven’t time to waste on such trivial stuff.” Reika continued to comb her mistress’s hair, expertly drawing the fine teeth through the long, silken black strands.

  “I had no idea,” went on Ayaka, ignoring her maid’s dismissive comment, “that the ladies of the court indulged in such practices with their lovers. Shall I read you a passage?” The blush seemed to have spread through her whole body; she felt strangely excited as well as shocked by what she had been reading.

  “Please don’t, my lady.”

  “Coming secretly to me by night again, Lord So-and-So had the temerity to praise the delicacy of my feet,” Ayaka began, longing to provoke a response out of the imperturbable Reika. The truth was that the sensuous prose had stirred strange sensations in her that were not entirely unpleasant – but she was sure that she shouldn’t be feeling quite so stimulated by these writings.

  “Does your mother know that you’re reading this?”

  “Oh, good heavens, no!” Ayaka hastily stuffed the incriminating evidence in her sleeve. “And you’re not to breathe a word to her, Reika. Mother would have a fit of the vapors if she knew. She doesn’t approve of ‘Lady Ukifune’ either. She used a very derogatory word about the other night. Of course, all the names have been changed, but it’s said that the real Lady Ukifune is very close to the emperor himself. Surely ‘Lord So-and-So’ couldn’t be his imperial majesty?”

  “‘Perhaps this ‘Lady Ukifune’ is not a woman at all.” Reika laid down the comb. “The writer might even be a man.”

  “A man?” Ayaka was both intrigued and scandalized at the thought. “But what man could possibly…” Her words trailed away as she felt another deep blush heating her face. “Oh, my. You don’t suppose, do you, Reika that Emperor Suzaku prefers men?” The idea was deliciously shocking.

  “For heaven’s sake, my lady.” Reika let out an exasperated sigh. “Suppose someone overheard you? Please consider your father’s position; as the only daughter of the Minister of the Right, you can’t afford to compromise his career.”

  Ayaka pulled a face.

  “Are you ready yet, Ayaka?” Her mother’s voice rang out tetchily from the next room. “We mustn’t keep your father waiting.”

  “Nearly ready, Mother.”

  Reika tutted as she leaned forward to fix a blue iris in Ayaka’s hair, the soft dusky shade chosen to match the iris pattern woven into her outer robes.

  “What?” Ayaka said. “Mother always fusses. We’ll be sitting about twiddling our thumbs if we follow her schedule. And I’ll be forced to make polite conversation with old Princess Kumoi who’s so deaf that you have to say everything twice.” She sighed. “I used to enjoy the Iris Festival when I was a little girl. The children have so much fun! Now I have to recite a poem and discuss the merits of the different blooms with all the elderly courtiers.”

  “Didn’t you mention that Prince Hotaru is judging the poetry competition?” said Reika, putting the finishing touches to Ayaka’s hair.

  “Prince Hotaru,” Ayaka repeated, unable to disguise the admiration in her voice. She had adored the emperor’s younger brother ever since she was a child, when he had found her crying in the palace gardens over her lost pet finch – and had sent her a pair in a gilt cage as consolation. If only he’d take another bride…

  Reika rose. “Which fan would you like to carry?” She began to search through the gold lacquered chest that contained Ayaka’s trinkets.

  “The blue one, of course.” Ayaka sighed again, wishing that her maid were better at making these decisions. “And don’t forget to wear an iris too; it’ll be bad luck for one of my entourage to forget.” But then Reika hadn’t been chosen to be her maid for her aesthetic or dress-making skills. “Why can’t you take a little more care of your appearance, Reika?”

  Reika looked round from the open chest and Ayaka flinched at the intensity of her disapproving glare.

  “I was just thinking,” she went on, refusing to be intimidated, “that you could spend more time fixing your hair. I’m generous enough with my favorite servants to allow them to borrow my perfumes and unguents. You could have some of my old ornaments to pin your hair up in a more becoming style, rather than scraping it back like a boy.” This wasn’t the first time she had tried to beguile Reika, and she was sure that if she persisted, the maid would eventually see sense and take up her kind offer.

  “Perhaps Lady Ayaka has forgotten,” said Reika in a low growl, “that her father appointed me to be her bodyguard, as well as her maid. And to be a good bodyguard I have to be able to react in a split second. Flowers bobbing around in front of my face would only impede my vision.”

  Ayaka was disappointed – but then she had an inspiration. “Suppose I ask the jeweler to make some special hairpins for you? They would look like hair ornaments, but they’d really be lethal needles tipped with poison that you could whip out and hurl at your opponent if anyone tried to attack me.”

  This time it was Reika who let out a sigh. “You must stop reading sensational romances, my lady. Those ninja tales are full of impossible conceits. Just think about it for a moment; how practical would it be to stick poison-tipped pins in one’s hair?”

  “I see.” Ayaka nodded slowly. “You’d be just as likely to disable yourself with one careless jab as to take out your enemy.”

  “Exactly so.”

  The screen was pushed back and another maid appeared, bowing low. “Your lady mother says the ox cart is here and would you please come straight away. Oh – and she also says that Lord Takeru is competing in the archery contest. She wants you to have a spray of iris ready for him to wear as your favor.”

  Takeru – here at court? Ayaka was so surprised at this news that for once she could find nothing to say in reply.

  “So your fiancé’s come to court for the festival?” Reika handed her the blue silk fan.

  “This is some plot of my mother’s.” Ayaka found her voic
e. “She knows I can’t stand the sight of him.”

  “So when did you last see him?”

  “Six, seven years ago.” Ayaka pouted. She knew exactly what Reika was implying.

  “And how old were you then?”

  “Almost ten.”

  “Just a child.”

  “He’s only interested in hunting, Reika. He has no ear for poetry or music. And have you seen his calligraphy?” Ayaka burst out. “It has no artistry. No soul.” She shuddered. “A person’s handwriting should convey their deepest feelings in every penstroke.”

  “Ayaka!” There was no mistaking the imperious tone.

  “Coming, Mother.” Ayaka rose and, smoothing out the stiff silken folds of her gown, hastily made her way toward the courtyard, her fan raised modestly to cover her face, Reika following close behind.

  ***

  The ladies’ pavilion was decorated with iris of creamy white and speckled blue; their subtle, dusty scent perfumed the air. Seated between her mother and elderly Princess Kumoi, Ayaka was well placed to watch the young lords and captains competing for the archery prize. She also had an excellent view of the imperial pavilion and her gaze kept straying in that direction, eager for a glimpse of Prince Hotaru. A sharp nudge in the ribs from her mother put an end to this pleasant diversion.

  “Ayaka, your fiancé is about to take his turn in the archery contest. Please try to look a little interested.”

  Captain Nakakuni of the Imperial Guard signaled for a gong to be struck to announce the start of the contest.

  “Oh, look, Ayaka,” said her mother, “Lord Takeru’s ready to shoot.”

  “You must admit that Takeru’s matured into a fine young man,” said Princess Kumoi behind her fan. “Seeing him wield his bow with such grace and ease reminds me of his late father, Lord Morimitsu. Thank goodness the Red Kites were exiled after that appalling incident.”

  Ayaka watched Lord Takeru take his stance and slowly draw back the bowstring, while his squire hovered behind, holding his full quiver. Grudgingly, she had to admit to herself that the elderly princess was right; her fiancé had grown up into a tall, broad-shouldered young man, with finely chiseled features that could almost be described as handsome.

  “Such a manly presence,” observed Princess Kumoi appreciatively.

  Takeru loosed his arrow; it flew, singing, from the bow and hit its mark in the centre of the target. A cry of approval went up from the stands; he turned and bowed to the emperor and then, to Ayaka’s acute embarrassment, to her. As he straightened up, she saw that he was smiling at her; he had tucked the blue iris her mother had forced her to give him into his court headdress. Aware of an excited buzz of chatter around her from the other court ladies, Ayaka gave an awkward little nod and hid behind her fan.

  “Lord Takeru leads in the archery contest,” announced Captain Nakakuni. “The two best archers will now compete for the prize.”

  Takeru was flexing his bow; Ayaka could not help but notice a rippling of the muscles in his powerful upper arms. Is that really the sullen boy I met all those years ago? The one who sat scowling at me throughout the betrothal ceremony? As he watched the rival contestant take his stance, there was a stillness about his whole person that conveyed a sense of utter concentration. In spite of her earlier nonchalance, Ayaka bit her underlip; even the twittering of the little birds in the hedge ceased as all the courtiers and servants waited in suspense.

  There came the rush of an arrow hissing through the air, then the dull thud as it hit the butt. But the bowman had not moved, had not even loosed his final shot. Everyone gazed around, trying to see who had aimed the rogue arrow. Two of the Imperial Guard who were acting as umpires, ran across to the target.

  “Who fired that shot?” demanded the captain. As the Imperial Guard scattered, searching for the intruder, a flock of birds rose, startled, from behind the hedge, and flew away into the cloudy-bright sky.

  Ayaka stood up, craning her head for a better view. She noticed Reika watching the birds intently.

  “Sit down, Ayaka,” ordered her mother. “It’s not seemly to stand and stare so blatantly.”

  “Suppose that arrow had been aimed at the emperor,” Ayaka said, reluctantly obeying. “He could have been assassinated!”

  “It’s probably just some silly prank by one of the younger nobles,” said Princess Kumoi disapprovingly. “They have no respect for the old customs.”

  Ayaka beckoned Reika to her side. “Did you see where that arrow came from?”

  “Judging by the angle and the trajectory,” Reika said in a low voice, “from behind the hedge. And whoever the archer may be, he’s very skilled not to have hit your fiancé – or Captain Nakakuni.”

  “There’s Father!” Ayaka spotted her father, resplendent in his ceremonial robes, hurrying over to confer with Captain Nakakuni, who had just tugged the rogue arrow from the target. Lord Takeru lowered his bow, waiting for the contest to resume. His squire offered him a water gourd and he drank, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Reika, can you see what they’re doing?”

  “Your father’s unrolling a piece of linen from the shaft of the arrow,” said Reika, shading her eyes with one hand against the clear afternoon light. “I think it could be a message.”

  “A death threat?” Ayaka whispered.

  “What nonsense is this?” Her father’s outraged exclamation could be heard even from the ladies’ pavilion; after exchanging a word or two with the captain, he set out toward the imperial pavilion, clutching the linen tightly.

  One of the guards searching behind the hedge let out a shout, and held up a bow.

  “So he had to abandon his weapon to make a speedy getaway,” Reika murmured.

  “What do you mean, Reika?” Ayaka was intrigued, certain that Reika’s training in shinobi arts must have given her some insight into this bizarre incident.

  “I might be mistaken, my lady, but that sudden flight of birds was very timely. We all looked upward, enabling the archer to make good his escape.”

  “I wonder what’s written on that linen father’s showing to the emperor.”

  “Doubtless a petition,” said her mother disapprovingly. “Some people will go to any lengths to get the emperor’s attention.”

  The captain of the Guard flourished his fan of office, giving the sign to the court musicians; the thunder of drumbeats rang out across the archery field and the two remaining contestants took their places again. Lord Takeru was competing against the captain of the Imperial Archers. The watching crowd fell silent, waiting for him to take his final turn.

  “Your fiancé looks very calm and collected, Ayaka,” said Princess Kumoi.

  “But is he skilled enough to beat the captain of the Imperial Archers?” Ayaka bit her underlip as Lord Takeru slowly raised his bow and took aim. His tall figure exuded a sense of stillness and poise that silenced the gossiping tongues in the guests’ tents.

  He loosed the arrow, which sped, singing through the air, toward the target, narrowly grazing the shaft of the Khoryeon’s before landing plumb in the centre. Ayaka leapt to her feet, trying to see more clearly in the bright sunlight as the officials ran to check the result.

  “We have a winner,” announced Captain Nakakuni. “Lord Takeru’s final shot is the closest to the centre of the target.” He led Lord Takeru to the imperial pavilion to receive his prize. Emperor Suzaku placed a garland of irises around his neck and presented him with a specially carved jade-tipped arrow.

  “Well, my dear,” said Princess Kumoi, as Lord Takeru raised his prize high above his head to acknowledge the applause of the watching courtiers, “you’re very fortunate to be marrying such a fine and accomplished young man.”

  Ayaka nodded, a smile fixed on her face, wishing that the princess had not reminded her. She supposed that she would be expected to congratulate her fiancé on his triumph.

  “It’s high time for you to leave your parents’ home and take up your role as Lord Takeru’s wife.”

&nbs
p; Ayaka could feel her smile turning into a grimace. The prospect of being forced to marry a virtual stranger who had grown up in a castle stronghold far from court appalled her. And even more appalling was the thought of being daughter-in-law to Takeru’s formidable mother, Princess Asagao.

  ***

  After the archery contest, the most favored courtiers were invited to the emperor’s pavilion for refreshments. For the first time, Ayaka was allowed to attend; having just celebrated her sixteenth birthday, she was no longer considered a child.

  “How exquisite the flower displays are!” her mother exclaimed. “So many different shades of blue, yellow and white mingling together, just like a meadow filled with spring flowers.”

  Servants handed out delicate porcelain drinking bowls filled with the festival wine, specially flavored with iris leaves. Ayaka took one and cautiously sniffed the contents.

  “Just take a sip,” cautioned her mother. “It wouldn’t do if you became tipsy when reciting your poem and embarrassed your parents in front of the emperor.”

  But Ayaka was too excited at the prospect of appearing before Prince Hotaru at the poetry recital to risk ruining her performance, so she set her bowl down untasted. As she did so, she became aware that there was much whispering amongst the other courtiers behind raised hands and open fans. The gossip passed like a ripple through the sea of iris-colored silks as she looked up to see Lord Takeru making his way straight toward her and her mother.

  Oh, no. What should I say? How should I react? Her heart had begun to beat too fast. Everyone’s watching us.

  He bowed to them. “My mother sends her greetings. And gifts, which my retainers have taken to your mansion.”

  “Princess Asagao has always been so generous. I trust that she is in good health?”

  “She is well, thank you.” He raised his head and smiled at Ayaka. She hastily averted her eyes, embarrassed by the directness of his gaze.

  This is the man I’m going to marry. I’m going to have to let him kiss me. And more, so much more. Those…lewd and shocking things described in the Pillow Book… Frozen, Ayaka could only stare at her fiancé’s feet. Why had those impure thoughts occurred to her at such a moment?