“It’s been too long, Kai Gekko’in,” he said, in a solemn, silky voice. “I’ve had some tea prepared, if you would join me. Ah, but I remember the days when you were young. Such a quiet little thing, yet you grew to like it here. You came in summer with the Lord Zusho and his people from the southeast provinces. How is your stewardfather? What tidings from the Kanden?”
“Lord Zusho is well,” Kai said respectfully. She had been sent to foster with the Zusho – a tributary to the Keishi clan – after her father’s death. “He’s been spared the poor harvest that’s plagued the lower valley these last two years.”
“Good,” the Chiten said. “Yes, that is good news. Would it were in Muzo. But – enough of that. Tell him to visit more often. He never comes to see me anymore… the tragedy of it… yet I think we’d have so much to say.”
“To be honest,” said Kai, “he prefers to stay in Zusho these days. Satsuki is his home, his people are there. And the capital…”
“Has too many eyes?” Goshira was watching her.
“I was going to say, the capital is too crowded for him.”
The Chiten laughed. “Well, he’s always been a smart man, I’ll give him that. I won’t deny, of course, too many of our people here, in the palace, they never leave. Never see outside the city; why would they? They preferto sit in their courts and their tearooms, not ride out for weeks to reach some muddy manor, the fields where they own their shares. That’s what deputies are for.”
“It’s true.” Kai wondered what the Chiten could have to talk to her stewardfather about. “Many of the estates around my lord Zusho’s lands are almost independent now. The governors hardly visit.”
“Too many nobles own shares in too many estates,” Goshira agreed, “in the provinces. Yet, they’ve never seen them. They’re happy to get their little pebbles and their rents and dividends, in produce, rice, or gold, or what have you… lets them sit on their little cushions and drink tea and be bored in comfort.”
He rubbed his bottom with a grin. “I’m not immune, of course. I do it too. So, perhaps your father Zusho is wiser than the rest of us! Ah, the tea.”
After a moment, Kai presented the poem she’d written as a token of respect. “I’m afraid I’ve only little skill, but I thought you might appreciate the sentiment…”
“Of course,” he said, unrolling the fine paper. “Ah.”
in the evening light,
cicadas
fall silent
the sound of one breath,
sound of the world
held, the wind goes still –
watching
the moon above
“It’s a response to my uncle,” she began.
Goshira nodded. “Yes, I saw it: his ‘Summer’s Gazing at the Moon’. Wonderful, just wonderful. You have great talent. And your calligraphy is excellent, you should be very proud.” He folded it carefully into the envelope, eyes never leaving hers. “Now, perhaps, to business. How are you enjoying this little capital of ours?”
“It’s – strange,” Kai said honestly. “I have these memories, from when I was a child… the orange tree by the emperor’s hall, the pines and the little lake by the South Gate… I have these memories and when I see them now, it’s like I see two places at once: the place that I remember, that meant love and mother and playing under trees. And the place that is now, which seems… different. Smaller, I suppose.”
“The homes of childhood do often seem so small, when we return to them. I understand what you’re saying. I’ve experienced it myself.”
“I’m here to look for allies,” she said abruptly. It was time she saw if the retired-emperor could assist her, or not. “People who remember what my family used to be… and might want to help.”
The Chiten’s eyes gleamed, deep as pools. “Yes… I do read much into this poem, Kai Gekko’in. This little poem about change. Oh yes. The cicadas: for years they remain underground, building themselves, but slowly… And now they emerge under a waxing moon. Be very careful, Lady Kai. No matter how long the cicada spends its time underground, its life in the sun is ever brief. The passage between birth and death is but a blink of the eye.”
“Better than having never been born at all,” she said. “Or being… forced to remain underground, never seeing the sun.”
“Oh, my lady…” He fell quiet. “I understand you’ve come to seek reinstatement of your lands. From the chancellor, no less. Brave of you to ask.”
“I don’t feel I have a choice.”
He hummed. “Memories of war do not fade easily in this city. You have a right, of course. But, if I may offer you a lesson, one ruler to another: you walk a dangerous line, revealing this to Seikiyo. He does not want your family to come back. You have my support, of course, for I’ve decided that, whatever happened, I wish you and your family only well. You do deserve your time in the light.”
