“What will that accomplish?”
“He’s been meddling with everything – you see his creeping fingers in every one of these events. It must be done.”
“He’s the emperor’s father. Grandfather to the crown prince.”
“As am I,” Seikiyo said.
“The boy is an infant…”
“There have been child-emperors before. Our history is known for it. There is always another power behind the throne, surely you know that.”
Yora had no words.
“All right.” Seikiyo gestured vaguely. “All right.” He went to his seat, retreating into formality. “You are no longer a member of this council, Yora. You may go.”
The brothers Shosei and Seichi had returned. Both wore armor in the traditional colors of their family, bright gold and turquoise, and behind them stood gaunt Nagai Sanetomo, head of Shosei’s bodyguard, an old warrior with fine white hair, deep lines under his eyes, and thin lips. He’d been a retainer of Tokuon’s father, Yora knew, and once cared for the boy after his father’s death in the war of succession.
We are much alike, Yora considered,yet he loves me not. He remembers we were on opposite sides in the war. And now… now we’re on opposite sides once again.
“Poet.” Seikiyo was quiet as they led him out. “You’re lucky I’m letting you live. Remember that.”
Yora nodded once, and took his leave. Behind him, Seikiyo had moved to the great window, with a view of the mountains to the west, and as he looked back to his old friend one last time, Yora saw Seikiyo gazing out to where the sun was setting on the slopes of Mount Eizan and the western hills, and to the palace gate, where the shadows of night had come.
“I’ve resigned,” Shigeo told him later, ash-faced and angry, in the garden. “From the palace guards. Moro… he’s admitted everything. Probably writing a confession now, filing his paper. My father ordered his jaw split. Broken. I don’t know. He’s to be beheaded at Phoenix Crossing at sundown.”
“And Deer Valley is to be burned.”
Shigeo said, “People are furious. They see this – I passed the marketplace, they’re making effigies of my father, trampling through the mud. There are groups. Citizens’ leagues, making a thousand prayer-wheels to throw into the sea. And the court? If anything, this sends them to Goshira. It sends them to PrinceNioh. They want the mirror prince, they say. His wife was one we took. They gasp at this, the violence. They decry us. They say, ‘This is a civilized society.’ They say, ‘Executions were outlawed for two hundred years, until the demon-emperor…’ and my father shrugs and says, ‘Now we bring them back.’ It’s unfathomable.”
Yora watched the young man, the lord who was Seikiyo’s heir. He shook his head, straining; he couldn’t keep still. Eventually his hand found a single chrysanthemum that had bent over the path, and he smashed it away.
“Ame’in.” Yora waited for the younger man to pause. “How are you doing?”
But Shigeo wheeled off. The death of his wife, Nariko, had devastated him. Yora knew this. He’d never known the woman well, never had a chance to, before he saw her with an arrow in her back. But now, coughing, eyes red-rimmed, and pale, he could see Shigeo hadn’t shaved or slept.He’s floundering.His father has gone too far.
“I’m leaving, Yora.” Shigeo’s words came faintly, thin of breath. “I… can’t stay in this anymore. They want to reject my resignation, but I won’t let them. Father’s furious.”
“What of your son?”
A silence. “We got him out.”
Shigeo shook, patting tears from his eyes. “He’s sick, you know. Father. That’s what this is… It’s not just the nightmares. He knows: a – cancer, I think. He’s trying to do as much as he can before it gets too bad… I just can’t be part of it anymore.”
“What will you do?”
This sadness, this little laugh. “I don’t know. Become a monk. Try to save our souls. I’m to tell you, my brother Shosei will be in charge. You’ll be permitted to remain as a retainer. My other brother, Seichi, will give your commands.”
“The arrow.”
The memory of the young boy’s singing seemed to fill Yora’s ears.
Yora heard it as he rode to watch the mansion in Deer Valley fall, heard it as Seichi went in with his torch. As he turned, drunk with victory, reeking of smoke. As he shouted, “The fire!”
Seichi threw another torch into the blaze, and rode back to the road. “The firebrand!” Shosei shouted, for his brother. The Keishi homeguard cheered. “The firebrand! Seichi the firebrand! The flaming arrow!”
Yora sat on his horse, and watched, and did nothing.Maybe we truly have entered the Age of Plagues. Watching the horses and riders, watching the boy who was once his student cry victory as the icons burned. The rising of their voices and the deep sound of flames covered everything. His horse pulled at him, uneasy with the fumes and smoke. He watched it all with tears in his eyes.
The pond at the inner court lay still, glass-like, even as the walls collapsed, even as Deer Valley hall began to burn. He could see an image of it on the water. Reflections, raining up at him, reflections of the embers raining down.They look like flowers, he thought.Burning flowers.
