calm himself. Anger, he knew, would affect his ability to perform his duty to the Emperor, and he could not let this occur.
Kogami’s anger was soon dissolved and not entirely as a result of his own efforts. His childhood teachings, learned at the feet of the Botahist Brothers, could never be entirely forgotten and a single phrase surfaced from his memory though he had tried to suppress it: “Give to those who have need and youwill be blessed.” So Botahara had answered a great prince who had come offering a gift in exchange for a blessing—a gift of cloth spun of gold.
Ashigaru appeared in the hatchway, his breathing loud as he labored up the steps from below. The smell of sanja “spirit flower” preceded him, its sickly-sweet aroma causing a chill of fear to course through Kogami. The dried petals of the sanja were scattered over the dead or those thought to be near death, to drive away evil spirits.
Kogami Norimasa’s mouth went dry and his hands shook.
“Is she…is,” his voice failed him and suddenly he found it hard to breathe. Reaching out for the rail, he steadied himself.
Ashigaru looked solemn but not at all hesitant. “She is in the hands of the gods. Whether they choose to take her now or return her to this plane is their matter. I have scattered the blossom of the sanctified flower around her. No evil spirits can possess her no matter what occurs.”
“But
you
said it was only a sickness of the sea! You said it was
nothing.
” Kogami spoke too loudly.
The priest drew himself up. “Don’t tell me what I said or did not say! Do you not know your place? I have protected your daughter from spirits that would torment her for all eternity. Could you save her from this fate?” The priest tugged at his robe and glared off into the darkness. Yet he did not walk away as Kogami expected. Instead, he stepped closer. “Listen, Norimasa-sum,” the priest said in a lowered voice, “we must not argue. We do
his
work, yeh?” And Kogami knew the priest was referring to the Emperor, not to the Father of Immortals. It was the first time either of them had acknowledged their true reason for being aboard.
“He can be generous…” Footsteps sounded on the stairs and the priest fell silent.
Kogami’s wife stepped into the broken moonlight that fell between the rigging and the sails. Across the distance that divided them, Kogami tried desperately to read his wife’s face but could not. She looked at the two men— and she hung her head. Then a sound, which neither man could hear, came to her from below and she raised her head, meeting their eyes.
Her face was beautiful in the moonlight, Kogami thought, beautiful and strong. She turned on her heel and strode across the deck to where the Botahist monk stood at the rail. Kogami Norimasa made no move to stop her, even though he felt his future slipping away like daylight over the horizon.
She cannot understand what this act will mean, Kogami thought. Even so, I bless her.
“What is she doing?” Ashigaru demanded.
“She is asking the Botahist monk to attend to our daughter.” Kogami was gratified that his voice sounded calm. The Fates have decreed this, he thought, it is karma. One cannot fight the Two-Headed Dragon.
The Initiate monk, Shuyun, heard the woman’s footsteps behind him and turned slightly. He had been expecting her to come—or her husband, the trader in cloth. It depended on how ill the daughter was. He had overheard the crew talking of the young woman’s sickness and knew the Tomsoian priest had been asked to see her. So Shuyun had waited, knowing that if the girl were truly ill the parents would put their religious scruples aside and come to him, the only Botahist monk on board, the only person who understood the secrets of the body.
“Pardon my lack of manners,” the woman said, an obvious forced calm in her voice. “I apologize for interrupting your meditations, honored Brother, but it is not for my sake that I do so.” She
Kogami’s anger was soon dissolved and not entirely as a result of his own efforts. His childhood teachings, learned at the feet of the Botahist Brothers, could never be entirely forgotten and a single phrase surfaced from his memory though he had tried to suppress it: “Give to those who have need and youwill be blessed.” So Botahara had answered a great prince who had come offering a gift in exchange for a blessing—a gift of cloth spun of gold.
Ashigaru appeared in the hatchway, his breathing loud as he labored up the steps from below. The smell of sanja “spirit flower” preceded him, its sickly-sweet aroma causing a chill of fear to course through Kogami. The dried petals of the sanja were scattered over the dead or those thought to be near death, to drive away evil spirits.
Kogami Norimasa’s mouth went dry and his hands shook.
“Is she…is,” his voice failed him and suddenly he found it hard to breathe. Reaching out for the rail, he steadied himself.
Ashigaru looked solemn but not at all hesitant. “She is in the hands of the gods. Whether they choose to take her now or return her to this plane is their matter. I have scattered the blossom of the sanctified flower around her. No evil spirits can possess her no matter what occurs.”
“But
you
said it was only a sickness of the sea! You said it was
nothing.
” Kogami spoke too loudly.
The priest drew himself up. “Don’t tell me what I said or did not say! Do you not know your place? I have protected your daughter from spirits that would torment her for all eternity. Could you save her from this fate?” The priest tugged at his robe and glared off into the darkness. Yet he did not walk away as Kogami expected. Instead, he stepped closer. “Listen, Norimasa-sum,” the priest said in a lowered voice, “we must not argue. We do
his
work, yeh?” And Kogami knew the priest was referring to the Emperor, not to the Father of Immortals. It was the first time either of them had acknowledged their true reason for being aboard.
“He can be generous…” Footsteps sounded on the stairs and the priest fell silent.
Kogami’s wife stepped into the broken moonlight that fell between the rigging and the sails. Across the distance that divided them, Kogami tried desperately to read his wife’s face but could not. She looked at the two men— and she hung her head. Then a sound, which neither man could hear, came to her from below and she raised her head, meeting their eyes.
Her face was beautiful in the moonlight, Kogami thought, beautiful and strong. She turned on her heel and strode across the deck to where the Botahist monk stood at the rail. Kogami Norimasa made no move to stop her, even though he felt his future slipping away like daylight over the horizon.
She cannot understand what this act will mean, Kogami thought. Even so, I bless her.
“What is she doing?” Ashigaru demanded.
“She is asking the Botahist monk to attend to our daughter.” Kogami was gratified that his voice sounded calm. The Fates have decreed this, he thought, it is karma. One cannot fight the Two-Headed Dragon.
The Initiate monk, Shuyun, heard the woman’s footsteps behind him and turned slightly. He had been expecting her to come—or her husband, the trader in cloth. It depended on how ill the daughter was. He had overheard the crew talking of the young woman’s sickness and knew the Tomsoian priest had been asked to see her. So Shuyun had waited, knowing that if the girl were truly ill the parents would put their religious scruples aside and come to him, the only Botahist monk on board, the only person who understood the secrets of the body.
“Pardon my lack of manners,” the woman said, an obvious forced calm in her voice. “I apologize for interrupting your meditations, honored Brother, but it is not for my sake that I do so.” She
Similar Books
