Yora stopped. “Before his death, he asked me to protect you. To protect his children, and his family. He wanted to undo the damage he had done. He didn’t want you to follow in his path.”
The Jibashiri arrived at sundown, led by the wolfish Kaji Getoh. By the time Kai ran to meet them, they were in the small courtyard within the gate, huddled together by the horses, some in armor, some in traveling clothes, all bundled in heavy cloaks. When she approached, she heard Yora’s intake of breath.
“Myorin,” he called. “Tsuna.”
“Father.” Myorin raced into her father’s arms, her sister a moment later; the two sides greeted each other at the edge of the garden.
Kai noticed a no’in woman with them, dressed in blue-and-black traveling clothes and a straw-covered coat. Shorter than Kai, her features were painted with shadow and torchlight. But in her eyes, Kai saw only fear. Beside her stood a graying crow monk from the mountains, holding a wooden staff with prayer rings.
“Rui,” the old man said, “this is Prince Nioh. And Kai, of the Gensei family.”
Yora approached. “Jobo Daiten. What brings you here?”
“The gods,” the crow monk said. Then, with a look at the no’in: “And her. We have much to discuss.” The three river monks, in their long black robes and rounded hats, stood together to one side. They hadn’t stopped looking at the no’in woman, Rui, since the moment she entered the courtyard.
“Let’s get you inside,” Yora said. “You’ve been riding hard. And we don’t have much time.”
Their meeting went long into the night, and at the end of it, Kai lingered in the temple courtyard, exhausted and certain that they were doomed. She could do nothing but sit on the stones, feeling the fear spread through her spine, and listen as the mirror prince played his bamboo flute beside the well. A mournful, haunting melody floated through the little gates like waves, drifting to the river garden, the rocks and flowers, and the night.
She wondered at the life she could have lived, if only things were different. If there was no war, if her father had never turned against his friend Seikiyo, or if he had succeeded; if, instead of swords, their family were trained to play music in the soft summer evenings like the ones she remembered from her youth, where men like Nioh didn’t have to be afraid, and lived their lives in peace. They could have been happy.
When he was done, Nioh placed his flute in its case.
“Thank you,” she said. And saw he had tears brimming in his eyes. Beyond, the soldiers were donning armor, preparing to strip the bridge of its planks. Kai watched them, not knowing what to do. This was so different than planning strategies on a board. She felt like she was looking through a small tube, and had no idea if danger, or safety, existed on either side. Her hands trembled; her stomach churned. She’d never been a natural fighter like Hayo. The idea of holding a sword in her hand made her want to throw up. But now, what was the choice? It seemed like another life, when she had stood worrying over her robes at the retired-emperor’s steps.
She found her uncle in consultation with the monks. “A great evil is in the wind,” said the river monk, Gochi-no-Tai. “Something is coming, and not just the army of Seikiyo. We’ve seen portents. It comes from theeast. We must be careful.”
Yora frowned. “The Keishi are coming from the west. I have to fight the enemy I can see.”
Gochi nodded, but his face looked grim.
“They’re worried,” Yora told her later. “We’re vulnerable on the east side of the river but there’s nothing we can do. Do you need anything?”
“I…” Her breath caught. “I could use some help getting ready.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Kai. It’s all right to be scared.”
In the temple reading room, Yora helped her into her armor and presented her a sword. “It’s not much, but it’ll do. We don’t want anyone recognizing you.” He carefully removed the crest from the helm, leaving it blank, unremarkable. She could tell he had something on his mind.
“We will lose this battle, Kai,” he said at length. “It’s not a question anymore.”
“Surely we can do something,” she began. Yora shook his head.
“I don’t want you to have a false impression about what’s going to happen. Wewilllose. They will meet us at the river. Hopefully we’ll be able to hold them at the bridge. But the water is treacherous, unpredictable. The rainfall in these hills has been inconsistent. If they try to cross, they may drown themselves, but there’s an equal chance they’ll find a wayto ford. Akiyo is a key leader of their military force; her lands are behind us, east and north of the crossing. She may try to cut us off from there. We cannot change this.”
“Then we have no hope.”
“It’s not a matter of hope. Itwillhappen. We may hold them briefly, but they will take the bridge and they will take the temples. If the Musha’in is as smart as I think she is, she’ll meet Tokuon on the field, stop him getting to us. We’ll have to fight our way free. Many clans have not responded to our calls. They think we’ll fail, think if they follow us, they’ll receive no rewards. The Keishi will have offered more than anything we could pay.”
He spoke carefully, with measured, even tones. “I want you to have no illusions about this battle, Kai. That is all. Don’t try to make a name for yourself. If you have to, hide. Smuggle yourself away. Let my daughters carry you. That is all that matters. Speed. Speed of your evacuation from this place. And that of our prince.”
“What of you?” she asked.
“I’m the same as everyone else,” he said. “For this battle, this night, I exist only to buy you time. I pray it will be enough.”
He set his gaze on the lonely courtyard outside, with its single, frost-covered tree, illuminated faint as a shadow beneath the ridge of sleeping mountains beyond. Then, on a paper, he dashed out a few quick lines in ink.
The empty tree
