After a long time Hisao said, “Show your true shape.”
Maya realized that she was pressed against the boy’s body, his hand still on the nape of her neck. It was both exciting and repulsive to her. She broke free from his embrace. She could not see his expression in the half-light. The fire crackled and the smoke made her eyes sting.
He lifted the lamp and held it close, gazing at her face. She kept her eyes lowered, not wanting to challenge him. Neither of them spoke, as if they did not want to return to the human world of language.
Finally Hisao said, “Why do you come as a cat?”
“I killed a cat with the Kikuta gaze, and its spirit has possessed me,” she replied. “No one among the Muto knows how to deal with it, but Taku had been helping me master it.”
“I am its master, but I don’t know why or how. It dispelled my sickness, being with me, and it quieted the spirit’s voice so I could hear it. I like cats, but my father killed one in front of my eyes because I liked it—you are not that cat?”
She shook her head.
“I still like you,” he said. “I must like you very much; I can’t stop thinking about you. I need you with me. Promise you will stay with me.”
He put the lamp back on the floor and tried to pull her close to him again. She resisted him.
“You know we are brother and sister?” she said.
He frowned. “She is your mother? The ghost woman? Is that why you can perceive her?”
“No, we do not share the same mother, but the same father.”
She could see him more clearly now. He did not look like her father, or like herself and Miki, but his glossy hair with its bird-wing sheen was like theirs, and his skin had a similar texture and color, with the same honey tone that had been such a trial to Kaede. Maya had a sudden memory of childhood—sunshades and lotions to lighten the skin. How stupid and frivolous all that seemed now.
“Your father is Otori Takeo, who we call the Dog.” He laughed in the sneering way she loathed. Suddenly she hated him again, and despised herself for the eagerness and ease with which the cat surrendered to him. “My father and I are going to kill him.”
He leaned away, out of the lamp’s glow, and brought out a small firearm. The light glinted on the dark steel barrel. “He is a sorcerer, and no one has been able to get near him, but this weapon is stronger than sorcery.” He glanced at her and said, with deliberate cruelty, “You saw how it dealt with Muto Taku.”
Maya made no reply, but she looked clearly and with no sentimentality at Taku’s death. He had been killed fighting, with a kind of honor; he had betrayed no one. He and Sada had died together. There was nothing to regret in his death. Hisao’s baiting did not touch her or weaken her.
“Lord Otori is your father,” she said. “That’s why I tried to kill you, so you would not kill him.”
“Akio is my father.” Doubt and anger showed in his voice.
“Akio treats you with cruelty, abuses you, and lies to you. He is not your father. You do not know how a father should behave toward his children.”
“He loves me,” Hisao whispered. “He hides it from everyone, but I know it’s true. He needs me.”
“Ask your mother,” Maya replied. “Didn’t I tell you to listen to her? She will tell you the truth.”
There was another long silence. It was hot; she could feel sweat on her forehead. She was thirsty.
“Be the cat again, and I will listen to her,” he said so quietly she could barely hear him.
“Is she here?”
“She is always here,” Hisao said. “She is tied to me by a cord, as I was once tied to her. I am never free from her. Sometimes she is silent. That’s not so bad. It is when she wants to talk—then the sickness comes over me.”
“Because you try to fight the spirit world,” Maya said. “It was the same for me. When the cat wanted to appear and I resisted it, I was ill in the same way.”
Hisao said, “I have never had any Tribe skills. I’m not like you. I don’t have invisibility. I can’t use the second self. Even witnessing these things makes me slightly sick. But the cat doesn’t. The cat makes me feel good, powerful.”
He seemed unaware that his voice had changed and taken on a hypnotic quality, laced with an appeal that she could not resist. Maya felt the cat stretch and flex with longing. Hisao drew the supple body close to him and ran his hands through the dense fur.
“Stay close to me,” he whispered, and then, more loudly, “I’ll listen, Mother, to what you have to say.”
THE FLAMES OF the forge and the lamplight dimmed and flickered as a gust of warm, fetid air blew suddenly across the dirt floor, stirring up the dust and making the shutters rattle. Then the lamp flared up, burning more brightly, illuminating the spirit woman as she drew close, floating just above the ground. The boy sat without moving; the cat lay beside him, its head beneath his hand, its golden eyes unblinking.
“Child,” the mother said, her voice trembling. “Let me feel you; let me hold you.” Her thin fingers touched his forehead, stroked his hair, and he felt her form close to his, the faintest of pressure as she embraced him.
“I used to hold you like this when you were a baby.”
“I remember,” he whispered.
“I could not bear to leave you. They made me take poison, Kotaro and Akio, who wept with love for me while he obeyed the Master and forced the pellets into my mouth, and watched me die in agony of body and spirit. But they could not keep me from you. I was only twenty years old. I did not want to die. Akio killed me because he hated your father.”
His hands worked in the cat’s fur, making it show its claws.
“Who was my father?”
“The girl is right. She is your sister; Takeo is your father. I loved him. They ordered me to lie with him, to make you. I obeyed them in everything. But they did not realize I would love him, and that you would be born from a love of such sweet fierceness, so they tried to destroy us all. First me; now they will use you to kill your father, and then you, too, will die.”
“You are lying,” he said, his throat dry.
“I am dead,” she replied. “Only the living lie.”
“I have hated the Dog all my life; I cannot change now.”
“You do not know what you are? There is no one left in the Tribe, in all the five families, who can recognize you. I will tell you what my father told me in the moment of his death. You are the ghostmaster.”
MUCH LATER, when she had returned to her room and lay sleepless, watching the darkness pale slowly into dawn, Maya relived the moment when she had heard the spirit speak those words: Her spine had chilled; her fur had stood erect. Hisao’s hand had gripped her neck. He had not fully understood what it meant, but Maya recalled Taku’s words: The ghostmaster was the one who walked between the worlds, the shaman who had the power to placate or incite the dead. She remembered the voices of the phantoms that had pressed around her on the night of the Festival of the Dead, on the shore in front of Akane’s house; she had felt their regret for their violent and untimely deaths and their demand for revenge. They sought Hisao, their master, and she, as the cat, gave him power over them. But how could Hisao, this cruel and crooked boy, have such power? And how would Akio use him if he discovered it?
Hisao had not wanted her to leave him. She felt the strength of his need for her, and found it both enticing and dangerous. But he did not seem to want Akio to know, not yet…. She did not fully understand what his real feelings were toward the man he had always believed to be his father—a mixture of love and hatred, contempt and pity, and fear.
She recognized the emotions, for she felt the same toward him.
She did not sleep, and when Nori brought her rice and soup for the morning meal, she had little appetite. Nori’s eyes were red, as if she had been crying.
“You must eat,” Nori said. “And then you are to get ready to travel.”
“Travel? Where am I going?”
“Lord Arai is returning
to Kumamoto. The town of Hofu is in ferment. Muto Shizuka is fasting in Daifukuji and being fed by birds.” Nori was trembling. “I shouldn’t tell you this. The Master is to accompany him, and Hisao too. They are taking you, of course.” Her eyes filled with tears and she dabbed at them with the patched sleeve of her robe. “Hisao is well enough to travel. I should be happy.”
Be thankful he is going away from you, Maya thought. She said, “Shizuka is in Hofu?”
“She came to bury her younger son, and they say she has lost her mind. People blame Lord Arai—and accuse him of being involved in Taku’s death. He is furious, and is returning home to prepare his troops for war, before Lord Otori gets back from Miyako.”
“What nonsense you talk! You don’t know anything about these things!” Maya hid her alarm with anger.
“I’m only telling you because you helped Hisao,” Nori replied. “I won’t say another word.” She pursed her lips, looking petulant and offended.
Maya picked up the soup bowl and drained it, her mind racing. She must not let them take her to Kumamoto. She knew Zenko’s sons, Sunaomi and Chikara, had been sent to Hagi to guarantee their father’s loyalty, and that Zenko would not hesitate to use her to put similar pressure on her father. Hofu was in the Middle Country and loyal to the Otori—she knew the city and the road home. Kumamoto was far away in the West; she had never been there. Once there she would have no chance of escape.
“When do we leave?” she said slowly.
“As soon as the Master and Hisao are ready. You will be on the road before noon. Lord Arai is to send guards, I heard.” Nori picked up the bowls. “I have to take these back to the kitchen.”
“I haven’t finished.”
“Is it my fault if you eat so slowly?”
“I’m not hungry anyway.”
“It’s a long way to Kumamoto,” Nori said as she left the room.
Maya knew she had very little time to make up her mind. They would surely transport her hidden in some way, with hands tied, probably. She might outwit Zenko’s guards, but she would never get away from Akio. She began to pace the room, tiny as it was. The heat was rising, and she was hungry and tired. As she walked without thinking, she fell into a waking dream, and saw Miki in the alley behind the house. She snapped awake. It was perfectly possible—Shizuka would have brought Miki with her. As soon as they heard of Taku’s death, they had come to find her. Miki was outside. They would go to Hagi together; they would go home.
She did not pause to reflect a moment longer, but leaped into cat shape and through the walls.
A woman on the veranda tried to swat her with a broom as she raced past. She ran across the yard, not bothering to hide, but as she came to the outer walls, she passed the workshop building and felt Hisao’s presence there.
He must not see me. He will never let me go.
The rear gates were open, and from the street beyond she heard the tramp of horses approaching. She looked back and saw Hisao run from the foundry, the weapon in his hand, his eyes searching the yard. He saw her and called, “Come back!”
She felt the strength of the command, and her resolve weakened. The cat heard its master—it would never leave him. She was outside, in the street, but the cat’s paws were heavy. Hisao called again. She had to go back to him.
Maya was aware out of the corner of her eye of the vague shimmer of an invisible figure. As swift as a sword, from across the road something came darting between the cat and Hisao, and it possessed an indestructible sharpness that cut between them.
“Maya,” she heard Miki call. “Maya!” and in that moment Maya found the strength to change. Miki, visible now, stood next to her. Her twin sister gripped her by the hand. Hisao was shouting from the gateway, but his voice was only a boy’s. She no longer had to listen to him.
Both girls went invisible again, and as Lord Arai’s guards came trotting round the corner, they ran unseen into the narrow tangled streets of the port city.
44
Takeo’s departure from Miyako took place with even greater ceremony and more excitement than his arrival, though there was both surprise and disappointment that he was leaving so soon.
“Your appearance has been like a comet,” Lord Kono said, when the nobleman came to make his farewells. “Blazing swiftly across the summer sky.”
Takeo wondered how much of a true compliment this was, since the common people believed that the comet heralded disaster and famine.
“I am afraid I have compelling reasons to return,” he replied, reflecting that Kono possibly already knew what they were; but the nobleman gave no such indication, nor did he mention Taku’s death.
Saga Hideki was even more outspoken in his shock and displeasure at the sudden departure, pressing for them all to stay longer—or if Lord Otori was truly obliged to return to the Three Countries, to leave Lady Maruyama at least to enjoy the pleasures of summer in the capital.
“There is so much more that we need to discuss—I want to know the way you govern the Three Countries, what underpins your prosperity and success, how you deal with the barbarians.”
“We call them foreigners,” Takeo dared to correct him.
Saga raised his eyebrows. “Foreigners, barbarians, it’s all the same.”
“Lord Kono spent most of the last year with us. He has surely reported to you.”
“Lord Otori.” Saga leaned forward and spoke confidentially. “Lord Kono gained the greater part of his information from Arai. Circumstances have changed since then.”
“Do I have Lord Saga’s assurances on that?”
“Of course! We made a public and binding agreement. You need not concern yourself. We are allies, and will soon be relatives.”
Takeo resisted his persuasiveness with firm politeness; from all accounts the pleasures they would forgo were not great, for the capital sweltered in its hill-rimmed bowl during the weeks of the greatest heat, and the plum rains that were due to begin at any time brought humidity and mildew. He did not want to subject Shigeko to this, any more than to Saga’s increasingly persistent courtship. He himself longed to be home, to feel the cool sea breezes of Hagi, to see Kaede and their son, and then to deal decisively with Zenko.
Lord Saga paid them the great honor of accompanying them for the first week of their journey, as far as Sanda, where he arranged a farewell feast. Saga knew how to charm as well as how to bully, but once this was over and they had finally said their last good-byes, Takeo felt his spirits lighten a little. He had hardly expected to be returning in such triumph. He had the favor and recognition of the Emperor, and apparently sincere offers of alliance from Saga. The Eastern borders would be safe from attack. Surely without Saga’s support Zenko would be cured of his ambitions and would submit, accepting the reality of Takeo’s legitimacy.
If there is proof of his complicity in Taku’s death, he will be punished. But if at all possible, for my wife’s sake and Shizuka’s, I will let him live.
He had traveled in the palanquin, with great formality, as far as Sanda. It was a relief once Saga had left them to put off his elegant robes and ride Tenba again. Hiroshi had been riding him thus far, for the horse became overexcited and hard to control if he was not ridden every day. Now Hiroshi was on his old horse, Keri, Raku’s son.
“The girl, Mai, told me Ryume, Taku’s horse, died at the same time as his master,” he said to Takeo as they rode side by side. “But whether he, too, was shot is not clear.”
The day was hot, without a cloud in the sky; the horses dripped sweat as the climb steepened toward the still-distant ranges.
“I remember so clearly when we first saw the colts,” Takeo replied. “You recognized them at once as Raku’s sons. They were the first sign to me of returning hope, of life springing always from death.”
“I will miss Ryume almost as much as Taku,” Hiroshi said quietly.
“Fortunately, the Otori horses show no sign of dying out. Indeed, under your skillful guidance I believe they are improving. I thought I
would never have another horse like Shun, but I have to admit I am delighted with Tenba.”
“He was a challenge to break in, but he’s turned out well,” Hiroshi said.
Tenba had been trotting calmly enough, but just as Hiroshi spoke, the horse threw his head up and spun round to face the direction from which they had come, giving a shrill neigh.
“You spoke too soon,” Takeo said, bringing the horse back under control and urging him to move forward again. “He is still a challenge—you can never take him for granted.”
Shigeko, who had been riding at the end of the procession with Gemba, came cantering toward them.
“Something has upset him,” she said, and turned in the saddle to gaze back behind her.
“He misses the kirin,” Hiroshi suggested.
“Perhaps we should have left him with her,” Takeo said. “The idea occurred to me, but I did not want to part with him.”
“He would have become wild and unmanageable in Miyako.” Hiroshi glanced at Shigeko. “He was broken in with gentleness; he cannot be roughly handled now.”
The horse continued to be unsettled, but Takeo enjoyed the daily challenge of persuading him to calm, and the bond between them strengthened. The full moon of the sixth month turned, but it did not bring the expected rains. Takeo had feared they would have to cross the highest pass in wet weather, and was relieved, but the heat grew more intense, and the waning moon had a reddish hue that made everyone uneasy. The horses grew thin; the grooms feared they had intestinal worms or had eaten sand. Sandflies and mosquitoes plagued humans and animals at night. By the time the new moon of the seventh month rose in the east, thunder rolled and lightning played in the sky every night, but no rain fell.
Gemba had become very silent; often Takeo woke during the night to see him sitting motionless in meditation or prayer, and once or twice he dreamed, or imagined, Makoto, far away in Terayama, doing the same thing. Takeo’s dreams were of broken threads and empty caskets, mirrors that gave no reflection, men without shadows. Something is amiss, Gemba had said, and he felt it in the flow of his blood and the weight of his bones. The pain that had lessened during the outward journey now returned, seeming more intense than he remembered. With an urgency he only half understood, he ordered the pace of the journey to increase: They rose up before dawn and rode under the light of the moon.