He was silent as he said his goodbye.
Nihira followed him into the cloakroom, shoulder balanced against the door. Sen was gathering his things. “Is this really what you want?”
“Not about what I want,” Sen said.
They hadn’t had a chance to speak alone since Nihira became the lord of Kitano. Azamaro, his stepfather, had been in council all day. Hakaru would speak to no one, and lost himself in long rides into the woods, loosing arrows at wild geese. Nihira had always been even-tempered, yet when Sen looked into his older stewardbrother’s eyes now, he saw again how furious Nihira really was.
“You could just say, fuck them,” Nihira muttered, a rare break of anger coming through. “And their wars.” He fell quiet for a time. “I’m not ready for this, brother. But then, no one is.”
“I will fix this,” Sen said.
“Some things can’t be fixed.”
“I have to try, Nihira.”
Nihira paused. There were years in his glance, years of all their life together. There was pain. “I want to give you something.” He brought Sen to the private armory where he kept his weapons. In the center of the room, a suit of armor rested on a stand. “Mother had this made,” Nihira said, “last year. She intended to give it to you… and you’ll need it.”
Purple and deep blue, in the traditional colors of the northern clan. Iyo had fixed a small shooting star on the helmet as a crest: “To mark your sobriquet,” Nihira said. “They call it the Lightning… You will stand out from the red and gold of Gisan. They may ask you to change it.”
“I won’t,” Sen said. “This is…” What could he say? Tears, already, hadformed around his eyes, threatening to spill and make an embarrassment of him. “It’s beautiful.”
How proud. How welcomed. How uncertain this made him feel. Iyo called himson. Nihira, now, was saying,You are my family too.
“I should have been more thankful,” he said. To Iyo, to his brothers, the leaders of the east, who took him in when no one else would, who raised him, protected him as one of their own.
“She wanted you to be safe,” Nihira said. “It was always a possibility you’d go back.”
He didn’t need to say the rest:To them.
Sen looked at the new lord of Kitano. He knew his stewardbrother’s looks. His silences. Knew he was trying to let Sen go.
Nihira brought him to a stand. “My bow,” he said, offering it to Sen. Taller than he was, with a long, graceful arc, shining crimson with lacquer. “You will need this, too.”
Sen couldn’t meet his eyes. Why did he feel like he was abandoning Nihira now? Abandoning his life in the eastern lands? Why did it feel as though something irrevocable had been torn in two?
“Will you look after her?” he asked at length. “Rui.”
“I’ll do my best,” Nihira said. “As will the crow monk.”
Sen nodded, pulling his cloak over his shoulders.
“I’ve heard from my relatives in the south,” Nihira said. “Conspiracies in the capital. They’re up to something, and I don’t know what. I warned them, Sen, just as I’ve warned you.”
“What do you think will happen?”
“No one knows what will happen, but everyone makes their plans. Trying to get to the top.”
“Not me,” Sen said. “I don’t want to rule anybody. I just want to make peace.”
“Then you are better than most of them,” Nihira said.
“I wish you could come.”
“In some ways,” Nihira said, “so do I. But I have responsibilities here. Our domain has always worked for independence from the intrigues of the capital. I cannot get involved.”
He sighed. “Mother told me something once. I didn’t really understand, until now. She said: one day, they will call on us to march for them again. And when they do… We are going to betray each other. Us, and those other clans. We’ve probably already betrayed each other, in some way. Because when you’re in that situation, you have two choices: assimilate – or the other thing. So. What do you choose?”
“Option number three,” Sen said.
