Seichi hesitated, sensing Yora’s glance. For an instant, Yora saw the little boy’s eyes staring at him again, eyes of the boy who called him “teacher” and who raced him up those hills.
Then the image vanished. In its place, only the man.
Seichi laughed, a loud, boastful laugh, the kind that hid fragility behind it. Then a second time, more quietly, almost to himself. He mounted, wheeled about. “We leave!”
This will be used against Kai, Yora thought,and against me.
“What does it mean?” Yaeko asked. “Kai wasn’t part of this, was she?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “It’s what they needed.”
Shigeo met him at the palace, red-eyed. “My father has announced the succession. Ashihara is stepping down. His son will accede to the Autumn Throne. It’s happening. Father’s furious. Demands you come before the council.”
Yora hurried in.
“You must speak to him,” Shigeo said. “He has vowed to crush the rest of the conspirators.”
“What ‘rest’? He’s killed them all already.”
Shigeo paled. “Not all of them.”
They turned the corner to find one last surprise. Tano Kitsue, whom Yora saw at Deer Valley, sat waiting by the doors. For a moment, he was stopped in his tracks.
“You must blame me, lord,” said Tano, when he saw them and realized what he’d done.
Yora soured. “You’ll be rewarded,” he said, voice tighter than he’d thought. “You’ll be made well from this: what can I blame but human nature?”
With that, he entered the room.
The chancellor had always been a quiet man, but now the silence that lay in his chambers wilted into something else; the silence of an illness, a lack of air. “When did they approach you?”
He knows, Yora thought. What could he say?
“I refused them.”
“And you didn’t report it?” Seikiyo stood, waiting. His hands had bound themselves into fists.
“I was trying to make peace,” Yora said, carefully.
The chancellor grimaced, as if to say: what other excuse will you come up with? “If you will not fight for me,” he asked, “what are you still doing here?”
“Lord, you asked me to find the source of these conspiracies against you. Killing will only make it worse. More enemies. Let us find another way.”
Seikiyo declined. “That’s enough.”
“Chancellor,” Yora began, but Seikiyo cut him off.
“We were friends once. We shared everything. What happened?”
“I wish I knew.” Yora didn’t bother to hide the hurt – or the regret – from his voice. Not anymore. “I know what Seichi said…”
“I am shattered by this apparent betrayal of loyalties.” Seikiyo approached. “You ordered your men to stand by while the conspiracy was put down… Why? Because they were your seedlings? Your soldiers? Were they working onyourorders?”
“I would never do that.” Yora found himself retreating. “I would never undermine the throne.”
“You have already undermined it!”
Yora remained silent.
