“Ten’in sovereignty has left us to our own laws for a hundred years,” Nihira said slowly. “We fought for this independence and stewardship of our own lands, with our own people, in blood and pain before. We cannot march against the Sunlit City. To do so would undo everything we have achieved since the time of my great-grandfather.”
Tokuon seethed. “So you would hide in your hills and do nothing? When the capital has rotted away? Youstillpay them their gold, I know this. You would pay those that killed your own people, as you said, only a hundred years ago. You are a coward.”
“I pay for peace,” Nihira said. “As we all must pay.”
Tokuon shook his head. “We pay because we don’t have the courage to speak up. The child-emperors have no power! They live at the whims of their regents. And now? Seikiyo – he weds his daughter to the Ten’in, uses his puppet-strings to make himself a grandson. AKeishigrandson, next in line of succession.”
“I will not take part in another war for succession,” Nihira said. “It is foolishness.”
“And you?” Tokuon said suddenly, looking to Sen. “The Hoshiakari, second heir to our house, what would you do? You said you had no choice. Have you not longed for this day as well?”
“What day is that, lord?” Sen asked, carefully.
He said it to buy time. He didn’t know what the right course was. Nihira had a point. But what was the purpose of appeasement? Every daythey paid for peace was a day the capital grew stronger. Sen knew this. And he knew Nihira did, too.
“Ogami’in,” Tokuon said. “You cannot leave your lands, fine. Then let us have a trade of forces. As a friend of the Gensei, offer your cavalry to us. Your family’s bannermen…”
“We have our own country here,” Nihira told him. “I will not take part in a war to the west. It will bring only pain.”
Tokuon growled. “You have a blood-debt to the Gensei! Who was it that helped you win the Iteki lands before your great-grandfather built this town? It was us! What of that debt?”
“We have sheltered your family’s heir, my mother raised him – is that not payment enough?”
“We need your strength, we need your army.”
“I cannot leave my lands.”
“Coward.”
“You misunderstand me,” Nihira said. “I would side with you if I could. But I know what my mother said. And I know the truth of it. And if I am to follow in her steps, I must act for the peoplehere. I am bound to the people ofthiscountry. This land. We have sworn in stewardship that we will not take part. We run our own country.”
“You are isolated,” Tokuon said.
“We have learned the value of looking after ourselves. That is part of our deal with the emperor. I cannot leave my lands with any show of force. That was the rule. In return we have been given leave to govern unburdened. Nothing more. My men will escort you safely from our country, lord. I wish you well, but I cannot take part.”
Tokuon clenched his jaw. When he rose, his bow was barely a courtesy. “Perhaps,” he said, “when we control the capital again, we will come back and re-examine the terms of your ‘deal’.”
He turned. “You are hurting, lord. Rest, do what you need. But tomorrow, there will be another sun.”
A glance to Sen: “And I’ll need better answers.”
Later, Sen watched as Tokuon’s ground-runners, led by Myorin and Tsuna, left the gates in darkness, wearing black and brown and green. Perfect scouts, the Jibashiri would scour the woods around Kitano, making sure no spies were still in the area – and if there were, death would be a mercy for them. Tsuna, sleek as a fox, caught his eye before she left, and nodded; then vanished into the wild blue dark.
Sen watched them from the gate. The others moved quickly, despitethe shadowy terrain, and within a moment, they’d crossed into the underbrush at the side of the road. Two Jibashiri raced up the road itself, covering each other’s backs as they went into the night.
“Naoza knows how to watch the roads.” Tokuon spoke quietly, from beside him.
“What will they do?”
Tokuon’s eyes were set on the dewy road and the slope leading down to the outvillage, and to Sen it seemed as if he could see with a hawk’s vision, far into the dark, farther than any human could.
“If any mountain-wolves are still out there,” he said at last, “none will be left by the morning.”
“You don’t think they’ll find anything?”
Tokuon met his eyes. “The Musha’in is the best fighter in the Keishi army. She’s a master tactician. Her troops follow her with an almost religious zeal. She’s too smart to let them linger here for long. No, they will scatter into the winds. Their orders would be to cut in, bleed us, then disappear. Whoever these assassins were, they’re long gone.”
“And the Jibashiri, the sisters, they went out anyway.”
