The Ruined Kingdom, Part 2

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

            The rock wall isolated the entire atoll, stilling the wind and preventing anyone who did not brave the inhospitable terrain and risk the fury of the shojo, whatever those were, would never see the interior. In many ways, it was the perfect place of concealment.

            “My father found this place during his stay many years ago,” the gaijin youth said, as if reading Kalani’s mind. “He realized at once that it was the perfect place for a shipyard. He had his shugenja create the rock wall to conceal it, and somehow he used magic to make an arrangement with the shojo.” The boy frowned slightly. “I have never truly understood how that worked. But it matters not! After he left to return to your Empire, he left a small force of men and women behind to maintain the shipyard.” His grin resurfaced, spreading from ear to ear. “And as you can see, these past few decades have not been idle years.”

            Moshi Kalani knelt on the deck of the ship and ran his hand across the surface of the wood. “I have never felt a deck so smooth,” he muttered almost to himself. He looked up at the youth. “Anshu,” he said, stumbling over the strange name, “where are the ones who built these? There most be dozens of them!”

            “Eight of your Rokugani remain,” Anshu said. “There were more, but they succumbed to age, illness, or in some cases assassination.”

            “Assassination?” Tsuruchi Gidayu perked up. “What do you mean?”

            “There is a foul cult that plagues this land,” Anshu said, his face a rare expression of solemnity. “They alone know of my father’s activities here, and they alone have the audacity to attack his vassals. None who have come here have ever survived, but they have exacted a price.”

            “Eight men,” Kalani said, running his hand across the wood again. “I don’t see how it is possible. These,” he gestured, taking in the ships in the atoll, “there are so many! And they are so enormous!”

            “My mother’s family assisted,” Anshu said with obvious pride. “Her entire family joined her here. Dozens of men and women. They were not shipwrights, my mother said, but they learned quickly and could follow the designs your men created.” He smiled. “It took them five years to come across the design they agreed was best. They are called atakebune. My father’s men said they would be the largest and most dangerous vessels on your sea.”

            “Your father’s men were right,” Gidayu said appreciatively. “What are these?”

            “I do not know the name,” Anshu said.

            “They resemble the ballista the Crab use on the Carpenter Wall,” Kalani said. “Smaller, though.”

            “They are magnificent,” Gidayu said appreciatively.

            “These atakebune resemble the koutetsukan,” Kalani said. “It did not seem so from a distance, but there are definite similarities.”

            “I know that word,” Anshu said. “Iron tortoises, yes?”

            “Iron turtles, but yes,” Kalani said. “The hull on those ships is plated with iron. It makes them very difficult to damage but also very slow.”

            “The beams of these ships have some metal reinforcement,” Anshu continued. “Your men said that they would sail circles around the iron tortoises, though.”

            “They’re enormous!” Gidayu said. “You could get more than one hundred men on this vessel and still have room for the largest cargo any kobune could ever hope to carry.”

            “What does the Fourth Storm mean?” Anshu asked suddenly. “I have always wondered.”

            “The Mantis Clan organizes its ships into fleets called Storms,” Kalani explained. “There are three at present, but this…” his voice trailed off. “I could exhaust the entire Second Storm and we would not have nearly enough to crew this fleet of ships.” He shook his head. “I do not know what to do with them. I cannot get them all back to the Empire.”

            “We could recruit some from Anshu’s people, perhaps,” Gidayu observed, still staring lovingly at the miniature ballista built onto the deck. “We would need to keep it quiet, of course. No sense inflaming the other clans by bringing even more gaijin into the Empire, but still.”

            “That is unlikely,” Anshu said, unusually subdued. “I suspect you would be hard-pressed to find more than enough people to crew a half dozen of these at most.”

            “What?” Kalani said. “Why?”

            Anshu only turned away. Kalani began to press the issue when he heard the roar of profanity somewhere nearby. He looked up and scanned the horizon, grinning slightly when he saw the old man Komori standing on the rock wall overlooking the atoll. “Komori!” he shouted, waving. “Down here!”

            There was a stirring of the breeze, and the old man’s voice was in his ear suddenly. “Akodo’s lost eyeball, boy!” the whisper sputtered. “What is the meaning of all this?”

            “I will explain in person,” Kalani answered. “Do you need me?”

            “I look forward to that explanation,” the old priest said, “but yes, you are needed. It’s Singh. He has returned.”

* * * * *

            Yoritomo Singh took off his ever-present head wrap and set it aside, taking a long drink from a clay bottle that sat on the table. He sat the bottle back down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked years older than he had only days before, Kalani thought. The gaijin lowered his head and did not meet Kalani’s eyes. “It is gone,” he said, his voice hoarse.

            Kalani glanced to the other members of the crew that had accompanied Singh on his short voyage. “I am sorry, I do not understand. What do you mean?”

            Here Singh looked up and met his gaze. The gaijin’s eyes were haunted. “It is gone,” he repeated. “All of it.”

            Inwardly worried that the man might have suffered some sort of breakdown, Kalani looked up to Yoritomo Rui, captain of the vessel on which Singh had traveled. “As per your command,” Rui began, “we sailed up the coast after the rest of the fleet made landfall. According to Singh-sama’s estimation, there was a major port city located approximately eight hours farther along the shore.”

            Kalani nodded. “Yet you were gone for two days. We feared you may have been lost to the sea.”

            Rui suppressed a sneer, but not before Kalani caught sight of it surfacing on her lips. “No storm can take the Fire Blossom,” she countered. “My ship made it in just over six hours, as I expected.”

            “And the city?” Kalani asked. “It is… gone?”

            “No,” Rui answered. “It is still there. It is merely dead.”

            “If I may be frank, vague answers are beginning to annoy me,” Kalani said darkly.

            “The city is dead,” Singh said loudly. “Everything in it is destroyed. Hardly a building remains intact in the entire area. There was no one there. Not one person in the entire city. Thousands used to call it home. Dozens or even hundreds of ships came through its docks every day. Now the sea floor is littered with ship carcasses.”

            “Fortunes,” Kalani swore. “Is that why you were gone so much longer than planned?”

            “In a manner of speaking,” Rui said. “At first we were searching for survivors at Singh-sama’s insistence.”

            “At first?”

            Rui nodded. “After we found none, we spent a greater portion of time searching for casualties.”

            “Casualties?” Kalani was aghast. “You searched for the dead?”

            “And found nothing,” Rui confirmed.

            “Every living soul in the city is gone,” Singh said, his tone forlorn. “No man, woman or child remains. And not one body, not one skeleton, not even any graves. Nothing.”

            Kalani rose and paced across the tent. “War?” he said after a moment’s consideration. “If the city was wiped out long enough ago, could their remains have been lost?”

            “No,” Komori said quietly. “Bones remain for many years, and it has not been that long since the Mantis were here last. Or Singh, for that matter.”

            “Could the city have been conquered and its citizens enslaved?” Kalani said. “Were there signs of a forced march or anything similar?”

            “Nothing,” Rui said. “I do not wish to sound foolish, commander, but I found the entire experience extremely disturbing.” She hesitated, and looked both at Singh and the young man standing quietly behind Kalani. “There was one other thing,” she began.

            “In the city there was a hill,” Singh interrupted suddenly. His eyes had taken on a far-away look. “The view was rapturous. You could see ships from miles away, so far that they were but specks upon the horizon.” He smiled slightly. “If you turned the other way, though, you could see the mountains beyond. If the conditions were just perfect, you could see between the peaks and make out the distant form of the Maharaja’s palace in the far reaches inland. I used to go there to see it often.” He lowered his head. “The conditions were perfect the last day we were there. The Maharaja’s palace was gone. There was nothing between the peaks.”

            “What is a Maharaja?” Rui asked.

            “Their Emperor,” Kalani answered. “Their Imperial Palace, perhaps the entire Imperial City, may have suffered the same fate as the port you visited.” He looked for a moment at Singh, who appeared completely lost within himself. “What else did you find, Rui?”

            “What?” The captain seemed startled.

            “You said there was one other thing,” Kalani insisted. “What? What was it?”

            Rui licked her lips. “One of my officers, Aranai… she spent time among the Tsuruchi. She is a gifted scout and… well, quite frankly she enjoys exploring and is good at it. While the rest of us where helping Singh, I gave her leave to search around the city and find something, anything, that we could use.”

            “And?” Kalani demanded.

            Rui withdrew a scroll. “She found a symbol drawn on the ruins. She found it more than once, in multiple places throughout the city. Always hidden, though. Never where it could be seen easily.” She handed Kalani the scroll. “I had her reproduce it. Singh-sama had already withdrawn to the cabin for the journey, however. He has not seen it.”

            Kalani looked from the scroll to the gaijin, but he showed no signs of even having heard the captain’s account. The commander frowned, but opened the scroll. “This means nothing to me,” he admitted. He spread it on the table. “Singh, have you…”

            Yoritomo Singh’s eyes blazed back into focus. “Ruhmalites!”

            “Cultist scum!” Anshu exploded from behind Kalani. He leaned forward and spat on the symbol.

            Rui recalled in horror, and Kalani wondered if some of the boy’s spittle had gotten on her. She reached for her blade. “I don’t know who you are, you filthy little mongrel,” she spat…

            “No,” Kalani lifted a hand. “Anshu does not yet understand our ways, but he will not be harmed by any Mantis who wishes to remain part of the clan. Is that clear?”

            Rui looked shocked, but slowly lowered her weapon. “As you say, commander.”

            Kalani looked over his shoulder at Anshu. “The cultists you mentioned? The ones who attacked the shipyard and tried to assassinate the Mantis shipwrights?”

            “The same,” Anshu said. His angry expression gave way to confusion mixed with embarrassment. “I… I do not know much else about them, honestly.”

            Kalani turned to the other man sitting at the table. “I have heard that term before, briefly, in reference to Aramasu-sama’s war here. What does ‘Ruhmalites’ mean, Singh-san?”

            The older man stared at him evenly. “It means we must leave this land at once.”

* * * * *

            Kalani sat alone on the expanse of beach, staring at the sea. The paper with the mark the Fire Blossom’s crew had found was crumpled slightly on the sand behind him, abandoned but not forgotten. He stared at the endless waves before him, lost in thought. He heard but did not react to the soft shuffling of sand as someone else approached. He said nothing for several minutes as the other individual stood silently, waiting. “Another crisis?” he finally asked. “I suppose this is what is must be like to be in command. Do Clan Champions have to endure this sort of responsibility all the time? I cannot imagine.”

            “It depends on the clan, I suppose,” Komori said, sitting down next to Kalani and immediately beginning to irritably brush the sand from his robes. “Smaller clans have fewer issues, but ones of greater importance. I imagine the converse is equally true.”

            “I would not know,” Kalani admitted. “I have never been more than a first mate, and even that was more responsibility than I desired.”

            “What is it you desire?” Komori asked. “I have always wondered. Your name has ever been on the lips of those who observe the political eddies and currents within the Mantis, but you never seemed to possess ambition or greed.” He shrugged. “Some consider it a weakness, but I do not.”

            “I desire only peace,” Kalani said. “Freedom from burdens, to find my place in the world without interference.”

            “Is that why you accepted this command?” Komori asked. “Because you were promised that peace if you succeeded?”

            “I accepted this command because it was the wish of my lord Naizen that I do so,” Kalani answered. “And contrary to what some may believe, duty is the most important thing to me, far more so than any petty desires of my own.” He turned to look at the older man. “I am not a courtier or a priest. I am a warrior, and it is my duty to serve my Champion in whatever capacity he desires. I did not accept a command, I merely accepted my destiny.”

            “Hmph,” Komori said. “When most say things like that, I think them shallow fools incapable of a more complex response. You seem too sincere for that, though.”

            “Thank you. I think.”

            The two men sat quietly for a while, watching the sea. “What will we do now?” Komori asked.

            “I do not know,” Kalani said instantly. “Already more has happened than I could have imagined. Our task was to consult with the lords of the Kingdoms to find all we could about Kali-ma and her army. Now I find that they are either dead or gone.”

            “Should we search for them?”

            “We could, but I scarcely see the point,” Kalani said. “We will not find anything. I have Gidayu organizing the Tsuruchi into long range scouting patrols, but I know what he will find.” He looked at Komori. “Don’t you?”

            “Yes,” Komori admitted. “This is a dead land.”

            “A ruined kingdom,” Kalani agreed.

            “How long before we return?” Komori asked. “We will have a difficult journey every day that passes. Winter is drawing ever closer.”

            “Therein lies the true problem,” Kalani admitted. “To fulfill our duty we will need to remain here for a minimum of a few weeks, perhaps a month. We cannot return until we have some sort of answer, whatever it may be. That would put us sailing home into the harsh winter of Rokugan. That is not an ideal situation, not by any measure.”

            “Is there even winter here?” Komori wondered.

            “I do not know, but we must assume there is,” Kalani said. “And we will be spending that winter here. We cannot depart before the spring thaws the Empire.”

            “The whole winter?” Komori exclaimed. “Are you mad? With no shelter, no ready source of food? We cannot winter here. We were supposed to be in an allied port city, where we could barter for supplies. What are we to do with no port?”

            “I thought that was obvious,” Kalani said. “We will build one of our own.”

            As the two men sat, the sun began to slip below the horizon. It set upon the Mantis Clan, lords of the Ivory Kingdoms.

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The Ruined Kingdom, Part 1

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

It had been so long since any of them had seen land, land more substantial than tiny islands of jagged rock and reefs that broke the surface of the seemingly endless waves, that Moshi Kalani wondered if it would feel strange to stand upon it again. Much of his life had been spent at sea, but never longer than a week or two at most without putting into a port for at least a few hours. He had stopped noticing the pitch and roll of the ship beneath is feet weeks ago. He remembered how many men from the mainland he had seen be violently sick their first time on a true sea voyage, and wondered if he would be similarly ill when he finally returned to land.

“Land!” For a moment, Kalani thought the word was simply an echo of his last thought, lost in the fugue of the sea. “Commander! Land!”

Kalani stepped to the edge of the kobune, placing his foot on the railing and leaning over. The vessel approaching was one of the smaller ships the Mantis used, capable of carrying less cargo but moving through the sea with much greater speed than the Blade’s Edge, the ship from which Kalani commanded the entire Second Storm. He recognized the smaller ship moving against the direction of the rest of the fleet. Recognized it and frowned slightly. The Unknown Path was a reliable ship helmed by a captain that Kalani considered extremely unreliable. Buntaro himself was leaning over the edge. “Land, commander! Three hours journey north by northwest!”

Kalani considered it for a moment. “Islands?”

Buntaro shook his head. “No, my lord. It is the coastline, and it is definitely not the Shadowlands!”

That was welcome news. The most difficult aspect of sailing to the Ivory Kingdoms was in sailing far enough out to sea that the influence of the Shadowlands and whatever demon-infested nightmare that bordered it could be avoided. The very water around those wretched lands could kill, but then weeks and months spent in the open expanse of the ocean was nearly as dangerous. Now it seemed that the Storm had finally come to ground outside the danger zone. Kalani’s navigators had plotted their course perfectly. “Take Rui and the Fire Blossom and confirm the course,” he said. “Alternate back and forth with the Blossom so the course is assured.” He nodded, then thought. “And find us a good spot to put ashore! Something defensible!”

* * * * *

“Ugh,” the old man said with an expression of distaste. “I never thought I would feel sick walking on land.”

Kalani smiled despite the situation. He gazed along the length of shore, where dozens of Mantis crews were setting foot on the first land for months. “I am grateful to have a man of your power and experience by my side, Komori-sama.”

“Please,” Komori said. “You are the commander of this momentous expedition. It is I who should call you sama.” He paused for a moment. “I probably will not, though.”

Kalani chuckled. “My gratitude is sincere, however. I am not certain how Lord Naizen enticed you to accompany the expedition, but I am thankful.”

“The Mantis have been extremely generous ever since the Bat Clan was created,” Komori said. “For that, I have been grateful, but to abandon my clan for so long would have been too much. Fortunately, lord Naizen offered me a truly spectacular amount of koku. So much so, in fact, that those issues that required my attention were resolved quite quickly and neatly.” He smiled ever so slightly. “Have I mentioned how fortunate we are to have our ancestry among the Mantis Clan? It really is a blessing most will never know.”

One of the others approached Kalani and bowed slightly. “Your orders, commander?”

No Yoritomo had ever deferred to Kalani on land, at least not that he could recall. The sensation was uniquely strange. “Ah, yes, thank you Chiako-san. Please use the open expanse of beach slightly to the north to begin setting up a temporary center for operations. I would like the Tsuruchi set up in roving patrols to secure the surrounding area. Overlap the patrols, as I want no mistakes. If this is to be where we are based, at least for now, it must be absolutely secure.” He turned to Komori. “If you will speak to Yuriko and Kinyo, have them ensure that those who remain on the ships assume a defensive formation around the beach as well.” He paused. “Komori-sama?”

“Someone watches us,” the Bat Champion said darkly. He nodded to the north, along the beach.

Kalani frowned. “I see nothing.” He noticed one of the Tsuruchi crouched a little farther along the beach and jogged over to him. “What do you see?”

Tsuruchi Gidayu squinted against the brightness. “A man. A boy, perhaps. Watching us.”

“Gaijin,” Kalani said flatly.

“Hai, commander,” Gidayu said. He smiled broadly. “Can we go find him? I will take Shisuken and bring him back.”

“No,” Kalani said sharply. “No, not Shisuken.” He knew the archer, and found his demeanor ever so slightly different during the voyage. It was probably just that he did not respond well to extended sea voyages. It was the case with many men. But for whatever reason, he made Kalani somewhat uneasy. “No, I should come with you.”

“Commander?” Gidayu said. “Are you certain? You should not be placed in harm’s way.”

Kalani smiled slightly. “If there is to be a benefit of command, it is that I can choose those undertakings I prefer for myself.” He glanced at Gidayu. “You know something of that, do you not? You expended the whole of your personal wealth to accept this duty, did you not?”

Gidayu shrugged, but his grin resurfaced. “This is the chance of a lifetime. What fool would pass up the chance?” He rose and dusted the sand from his clothes. “If you wish it, commander?”

“Can you track our quarry?”

The scout laughed. “Oh my, yes.”

Kalani turned to the others. “Chiako, you have command until I return. Komori-sama, will you assist her?”

“Certainly not,” Komori said. “My place is with you, of course.”

The young commander considered attempting to force the issue via his rank, but the sardonic expression of the shugenja lord convinced him otherwise. “As you like. Lead the way, Gidayu.”

* * * * *

Kalani had never spent an exceptional amount of time alongside Tsuruchi scouts, given that his duty had typically taken him to sea, but he had a difficult time imagining that all of them swore as much as Gidayu. “Bishamon’s nightsoil!” the archer exploded as if on cue. “I have never seen a trail like this!”

“Perhaps we should return to the beach,” Kalani said. “It seems our opponent is more cunning than we anticipated, or perhaps the terrain is simply too different for your otherwise exceptional skills.”

“I tracked a man along the Crane seashore for six days once,” Gidayu growled. “This ground is much firmer and less prone to shifting by the wind.” He lifted a handful of the loose soil and scattered it in annoyance. “This man moves like a ghost. He can go for dozens of feet and leave no trace of his passing, then suddenly there are a handful of prints.” He paused and looked away. “I think he is allowing us to follow him,” the scout admitted. “We should be aware that we might be led into a trap.”

Kalani’s hand tensed around the hilt of his weapon. After so long on the sea and now a frustrating pursuit, he almost welcomed a fight to clear his mind, but not if it took place on the opponent’s terms. “What can you tell us, Komori-sama?”

“The spirits here are strange,” Komori said. “The kami seem… confused. I do not think that they think they are kami at all.”

“What does that mean?” Gidayu demanded.

“Oh, I am sorry,” Komori snapped. “I can’t explain it in terms of pointy little sticks that fly through the air, so of course you are confused.”

            “Hard to ask the kami for favors with an arrow in your throat,” Gidayu said under his breath.

            “You insolent child,” Komori roared.

            “No more!” Kalani said. “We are all tired and frustrated, but I will not have us take up arms against one another because we cannot find anyone else to fight.”

            “I am a Minor Clan Champion,” Komori began.

            “Who placed his services at the disposal of a Mantis expedition of which I am the commander!” Kalani said. “And I said that was enough!”

            Komori fumed for an instant, then smirked. “I think a few more Moshi like you and the Clan War would have been a great deal easier to deal with.”

            Kalani was still wondering how to respond to such a statement when a bright and cheerful cry of “Hello!” interrupted his thoughts. All three samurai reached for their weapons, with Kalani drawing a blade and Gidayu preparing an arrow while Komori’s hands were wreathed with crackling electricity in an instant.

            On a dune ahead of them crouched a young man, his features and attire instantly identifying him as a gaijin despite that he spoke almost flawless Rokugani. “Have you been following me the entire time?” he asked, surprised. “I suppose mother is right and I should pay more attention.”

            Kalani’s weapon lowered only an inch. “Who are you?”

            The young man’s smile grew wider and he opened his mouth to respond, but froze in mid-reply as his eyes widened. “Oh!” he said, pointing to Kalani’s chest. “You are Mantis! Mantis Clan warriors! From the Emerald Empire! Yes?”

            “I… yes,” Kalani said, feeling confused. “How do you know who we are?”

            “My father!” The youth sprang to his feet and hopped about excitedly. “My father was a Mantis! He came to wage war here many years ago!” He leapt down from the dune to stand in front of them, then bowed clumsily. “Is that right? That is how I remember it!”

            Kalani heard Komori’s sharp intake of breath next to him, but did not consider it at the moment. “Your father was a Mantis? One of those who came to the unknown war against forces in your Kingdoms?”

            “Yes!” the boy said. He looked as though he might burst at the seams from pure happiness. “I have waited my whole life for this day! I cannot believe you are finally here! I knew you would come!” He stopped, covering his mouth as if he just remembered something. “Mother! You must come meet mother! And then later I can take you to the others!” He hopped back atop the dune and withdrew a perfectly matched pair of weapons, causing the color to bleed slowly from Kalani face. “Come! I will show you! Come with me!” With a yelp of excitement, the boy leaped over the samurai’s heads and caught a low hanging branch from the tree line with the intersection of the blade and handles of his weapons, then flipped farther into the trees. “Come quickly!”

            “This is insane,” Gidayu said, turning to the others. “We cannot honestly… what is it?” He looked alarmed at the expression of the two older men. “What is it?”

            Kalani turned to Komori. “Did you see?”

            Komori nodded. “His eyes,” the shugenja whispered. “He has Aramasu’s eyes!”

            “What?” both the other men said suddenly.

            Komori stared at Kalani. “You didn’t see? What were you talking about, then?
            Kalani looked into the jungle after the young man. “The kama he carries,” he said. “Those are Yoritomo’s kama.”

* * * * *

“This cannot be possible.”

Komori raised an eyebrow. “You never struck me as an imbecile, Kalani. Please do not disappoint me at this late stage of the game.”

“You believe him?” Kalani was incredulous.
            The old shugenja spread his hands wide. “Why would he lie? The boy clearly has some degree of familiarity with our ways. He should understand at the very least that claiming to be the son of one of our venerated dead is a death sentence if proven false. And besides that,” his voice trailed off, and Komori finally simply shrugged. “His eyes do not lie. I have seen those eyes before.”

Kalani wiped at his eyes with his hand, suddenly exhausted. “And I have seen the weapons. There is no question, none at all, that they are the kama of our lord Yoritomo.”

“How is that possible?” Yoritomo Chiako demanded. For the first time in the entire voyage, her expression displayed emotion, and that emotion was anger. Kalani thought perhaps there was fear there as well. “How can weapons lost to the sea on the Phoenix coastline be here, in the Kingdoms? As you said, my lord, it is impossible.”

“And yet here we are,” Komori observed. “Perhaps it was the will of the Fortunes. Perhaps it was the will of Aramasu. Who knows? Perhaps it was the will of Yoritomo himself that the boy find them and carry them in his father’s name.”

“Blasphemy!” Chiako struck the table in the tent that served as Kalani’s personal command center with both fists. “This is blasphemy and I will not hear it!”

Komori’s expression grew stormy and Kalani would have sworn that the light in the tent dimmed at the same time that the wind outside picked up with a sudden gust, but he held his hand up. For a moment he was uncertain that the old shugenja would acknowledge him, but after only a moment, the old man nodded slowly. “This response is not what I would expect from you, Chiako,” Kalani said quietly. “Why does this cause you such consternation?”

The young officer clearly struggled to maintain her composure as she answered. “I remember the war between Kumiko-sama and Kitao,” she said quietly. “I will not stand by and permit another war of succession. If need be I will take the boy’s life and then my own.”

“What?” Komori burst out. “Are you mad, woman? Has the Mantis Clan changed so dramatically since my departure that they would even consider the notion of a half-gaijin Champion? As if the Empire at large would tolerate such a thing!” He chuckled. “You worry for nothing, captain.”

Chiako frowned severely, but Kalani could see the relief in her expression. “Gidayu, you were there,” he said, addressing the tent’s fourth occupant. “What is your assessment?”

The archer shrugged lightly. “I never met Aramasu-sama, nor have I ever seen Yoritomo-kami’s kama up close, so I have no opinion on those issues. What I do know is that the boy is fast, stealthy, and clearly knows his way around. If I had to hunt him in the jungle,” he shook his head slowly. “I think I might just quit before I started. He would be incredibly useful as a guide, and if his mother can lead us to others who are sympathetic to the Mantis as she seemed to indicate…” He shrugged again. “It seems foolish to waste an asset.”

Kalani slowly nodded. “I am inclined to agree. So we will use the boy as a guide for now, so long as he understands that he is not to discuss his lineage until we have time to… process that information.” He shook his head. “I do not wish to think what chaos such a thing could unleash. In the meantime, we need to assess our current situation.” He gestured to the tent flap and Gidayu nodded. The archer stepped out for a moment and returned with another Tsuruchi in tow. “Arishia,” Kalani said. “We would hear your report, if it is ready.”

Tsuruchi Arishia bowed sharply. “Of course, my lord. As per your request, we sent multiple patrols in a broad sweep of the surrounding area, reaching as far afield as six miles of our current location. As a precaution, I have stationed five groups in concealed overnight camps within that area as well, in the interest of preventing any sort of midnight approach by an unseen enemy. I hope that I was not presumptuous in doing so.”

“No, no,” Kalani assured her. “It was a wise decision. Well done. Did the patrols find anything?”

“Nothing, my lord,” Arishia said. “There was evidence of one small settlement, a village of sorts, roughly five miles in from the beach. It had been completely wiped out.”

Kalani raises his head sharply. “The Destroyers?”

“Possible, but I doubt it,” Arishia said. “I inspected the site myself. There was no sign of a large force arriving, although clearly some of the villagers had departed. It makes no sense, but it appears the village was destroyed by an internal conflict of some sort. The paths were almost completely overgrown, as were all paths in the jungle that we were able to locate. And there were no remains at all.”

“I do not find that reassuring,” Kalani muttered. “Is there no sign of anyone?”

“None,” Arishia said. “At least no one that we can see. My men reported multiple instances of being observed by unseen parties.”

“How did you know an unseen party was there?” Komori inquired.

Arishia smiled slightly. “A hunter’s intuition, lord Komori-sama.”

“No signs of life at all,” Kalani repeated.

“Other than those you met today,” Arishia confirmed. Everyone in the tent turned to look at her, to which she raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise. “Surely you realize how quickly news travels?”

“Wonderful,” Kalani muttered.

* * * * *

The young gaijin darted back and forth across the deck of the ship, smiling from ear to ear the entire time. Despite his age, he seemed to delight in the experience as a child would. A Rokugani youth of nearly two decades would be considered an adult, and entrenched within his duties by such an age. This gaijin seemed trapped between the world of child and man, and Kalani wondered if it was a function of their strange culture, or if the youth had perhaps been sequestered because of his apparently diverse ancestry. Kalani could not imagine that such an individual would have an easy life or find any degree of acceptance, but perhaps the world at large was not like the Empire. The thought made Kalani distinctly uncomfortable.

“Left!” the youth shouted. “Move to the left!”

The ship’s navigator looked to Kalani with an annoyed expression. “I see nothing, commander,” he said. “No reefs, no breakers, nothing.”

Kalani frowned. “I know,” he said. “Do as he says.”

The annoyance on the navigator’s face redoubled in intensity, but he bowed sharply and adjusted the ship’s course. Moments later, he heard one of the men on deck yelp in surprise as the ship passed narrowly between two razor sharp reefs that were all but invisible. “What…” the navigator sputtered.

“The plants that cling to the reefs in this region are blue, sometimes green,” the youth shouted out. “It makes it almost impossible to see unless you know what you are looking for! That is one reason that my father selected this place, one reason that no one ever comes here.”

“One reason?” Kalani asked. “There are others, I presume.”

“Certainly,” the young man said. “The shojo here are particularly dangerous. Or so the outsiders believe.” Seeing the curious looks on the faces of others. “Sea spirits. Sort of, at least. It is a rather complicated story and I seriously doubt you would be interested. Sufficed to say, our people are safe among the shojo, and the outsiders are not.”

The youth’s repeated use of the term outsider gave Kalani pause, but he did not mention it. Did the boy’s mixed ancestry cause him to view himself as Rokugani, and the citizens of the Kingdoms as outsiders? It was probably something of that sort, and it was not the kind of thing that could be discussed without great complication, so Kalani made a note to discuss it with his officers. It would not do to have their only guide so far offended.

“Here!” the boy shouted. “Here!” He pointed with the kama that was to him his father’s weapon, but to every member of the fleet a sacred relic of unimaginable importance. “I will show you what my father left for you! You will see!”

            Kalani found himself frowning as he leapt over the side of the ship and splashed through the thigh-deep water following the young scout, followed by Gidayu. He moved through the water like he had spent his entire life in the surf, and given his familiarity with the area, Kalani thought perhaps that he had. The scout scrambled across the dunes and began scaling a tall rock wall that seemed naturally occurring, but which so conveniently and thoroughly concealed the interior of the peninsula that Kalani suspected magic might have been used to create it. Regardless, it was not as jagged and razor-sharp as it appeared to the eye, which further suggested it was a deliberate deception. The guide stood at the top, having darted up it in an instant. “Here!” he said, his smile broad. “This is my father’s legacy!”

            Kalani hefted himself to the top of the rock wall, his breath coming quick and labored. “Too long at sea,” he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

            “Fortunes,” whispered Gidayu, his mouth hanging open.

            “Eh?” Kalani said, and followed the archer’s gaze. He felt the strength depart from his legs in a rush. The peninsula was not a peninsula at all, but rather an atoll. Just inside the rock wall was a massive body of water, likely connected to the greater sea, or at least a great lake. And it was not empty. “Lady Sun preserve us,” Kalani said, lapsing into an oath from his childhood.

            “Are they not magnificent?” the youth asked.

            “They are enormous,” Gidayu said. “I have never seen anything so large, not even the koutetsukan.”

            The youth smiled. “My father instructed us that they were to be called the Fourth Storm.”

To Be Continued

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Reactions

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

The night air was filled with smoke and the sound of fighting, but the din from the front lines was so familiar that at this point it was hardly noticed by those who had been fighting the Destroyers for more than a week. The forward camps had a slightly haphazard look to them, as they had been broken down and moved so many times as the army slowly lost ground that their constant reconstruction had become less and less a priority. The bushi stationed within the seemingly endless sea of tents could not rest comfortably due to the accommodations and the constant sound of battle, and their moods suffered as a result. Kuni Kiyoshi was aware of this, of course, but it did little to mitigate the irritation that seemed to plague him constantly. “Is this some manner of joke?” he demanded.

Akodo Shigetoshi looked at the Kuni daimyo with disapproval. “I find that manner of comment highly inappropriate,” he said sternly. “This is an edict from the Empress we are speaking of. Maintain respect.”

Kiyoshi’s expression was severe, and made more so by the kabuki-style make-up he wore. “I do not answer to you.”

“You do answer to me,” Hida Benjiro said sharply. “As long as I am in command here, you will maintain a proper tone. The Lion are here to aid us, and the least we can do is show their lord the respect he deserves.”

Shigetoshi frowned somewhat. “I would prefer he maintain respect for the Empress on general principle.”

Benjiro raised a hand. “Please, Shigetoshi-sama. This is a stressful situation for all of us. Let us not get mired down in details.”

The Lion Champion nodded. “Of course, Benjiro-san. My apologies.” He turned back to the messenger. “What degree of error might there be in this message?”

“None,” Hiruma Rohitsu answered. “My lord Todori called in many favors among the Mantis to get word to our commander in Toshi Ranbo. I was reassigned from my duties to bring the message to you here after hearing it from the shugenja who communicated with lord Todori, who himself heard the proclamation firsthand. There is no error.”

“There must be,” Benjiro insisted. “This is madness.”

“Yes,” Kiyoshi agreed vehemently. “The Dark Lord cannot be permitted to enter the Empress’ presence! Have we not learned this already? How many must that madman murder before we send him to Jigoku where he belongs?”

“Kiyoshi,” Benjiro said, “you need rest. You have been fighting nonstop for weeks now with no relief.”

“I do only what is asked of every Crab.”

“I know,” Benjiro said. “Your burden is greater, however. Go. Rest.”

Kiyoshi frowned. “As you command, rikugunshokan, but not before I speak to the Jade Champion. He will wish to hear of this.” With that, the Kuni daimyo stormed from the tent.

Benjiro watched him go. “There are many among the Crab who will question this decision,” he said darkly. “Many who will find fault with the Empress for such a decision.”

“Unacceptable,” Shigetoshi said. “Surely you can find some means to bring your men around to a more appropriate way of thinking. They are not dishonorable men. I have seen this much fighting alongside them.”

“They lack the certainty afforded by a life spent free of war with the Shadowlands,” Benjiro said. “It is rare to find a Crab warrior who has not lost a member of his family to the Dark Lord’s machinations. A reprieve will be unacceptable to them.”

“This is a tactic, nothing more,” the Lion Champion said. “The Empress would not endure the presence of Daigotsu if there was not something to be gained for the Empire from it. There will be no reprieve. Of this I am absolutely certain. My faith in the Empress is absolute, and it will be rewarded. You will see, Benjiro.”

“I sincerely hope so,” the Crab general answered. “Otherwise I fear that there may be many who will decide that the Empire does not warrant saving.” He smiled darkly. “Fortunately, in the meantime, there are countless enemies to slay in order to set aside the issue of the Empress’ motivations.”

“Fill your soul with war, brother,” Shigetoshi said. “All else will come in time.”

“Fill my soul with war?” Benjiro chuckled. “My friend, the soul of a Crab is nothing but war.”

* * * * *

The voluminous cloaks that Isawa Mitsuko preferred generally concealed her identity when traveling, which was always useful for a woman with duties such as hers. Most of the time, she preferred more proper attire when within another’s home; she considered anything less rude. Under the present circumstances, however, she had not paused from her arrival in the stables, but proceeded directly into the large shrine that dominated Kyuden Asako’s primary courtyard. There were fewer guards within the estate than most of similar size, but that was to be expected given the rather unconventional nature of the Asako family’s lord. The two Shiba standing guard over the entrance to the shrine recognized her from her frequent visits and bowed sharply, doing nothing to bar her passage.

The interior of the shrine, as always, was meticulously maintained and utterly serene. The lord of the castle allowed nothing to disturb its tranquility. The damage that the estate had suffered during the War of Dark Fire had been repaired, and in some respects the castle had been expanded. Most of the additions were much more in keeping with the present lord’s personal preferences, which only enhanced the resemblance of the estate to a large monastery. It would still be more than sufficient to host a Winter Court, should that come to pass, but for the moment, it was something of a living contradiction, which only increased its appeal to Mitsuko.

In the center of the garden was a square column of rock roughly twenty feet high. It appeared to have been hewn from a single, massive block of stone, and it seemed strangely out of place in the shrine. When the Asako daimyo was in attendance, however, it made much more sense. Asako Bushiken sat in the lotus position atop the column at the moment, seemingly lost in meditation. How he scaled the column, Mitsuko had never managed to deduce. Perhaps some esoteric martial arts maneuver associated with the monastic sect that Bushiken had founded? Ultimately it did not matter. And today, certainly, she had little time to devote to such things. “My lord Bushiken-sama.”

The monk opened his eyes. “Greetings, Mitsuko-sama. It is a pleasure to see you once again. I was given to understand you would be spending the season farther south, however. Nikesake, was it not? Has there been a problem with the reports you have been receiving from Pale Oak Castle?”

“No, my lord,” Mitsuko said with a bow. “Unfortunately, there is another matter that has arisen that requires not only my attention, but yours, and the entire order of Inquisitors. Forgive me if I seem presumptuous, but I needed to speak with you at once.”

A woman emerged from behind the column. “If the Master of Air feels so strongly, this surely must be a matter of great importance. Would you have me leave, my lord?”

“No,” Bushiken said at once. “Mitsuko-sama, have you met Asako Katashi? She is my principle advisor from the Inquisitors, and keeps me abreast of important events within the order.”

“I have not had the pleasure,” Mitsuko said with a respectful nod of the head, “but I have heard your name. You defeated the maho-tsukai duo from Dozen Tree Village, did you not? Impressive work indeed. It was no surprise to hear that you are overseeing the effort to find the traitor Fosuta.”

“You flatter me, my lady,” Katashi said with a low bow.

Mitsuko smiled. “Has word of the Empress’ proclamation reached you yet?” Seeing their lack of reaction, she grimaced. “Word reached the Imperial City a few days ago that the Empress announced at court that she was suspending the edict demanding the immediate execution of Daigotsu, and demanded that he be brought before her.”

“Daigotsu?” Katashi exclaimed. “The Empress wishes to hold parlay with the Dark Lord of the Shadowlands?”

“So it would seem,” Mitsuko said. “She commands her loyal subjects to seek him out with all due haste and bring him before her immediately.”

“Have I overlooked some simple truth that the rest of the Empire has embraced,” Bushiken said slowly, “or have we and others been seeking information concerning Daigotsu’s location for years?”

“We have,” Katashi said.

“And now everyone else will as well,” Mitsuko added. “This is a potential disaster of unimaginable proportions.”

“Daigotsu is a malevolent entity such as has rarely existed in the Empire,” Bushiken observed. “For those unprepared, even being in his presence could be catastrophic.”

“I agree completely, my lord,” Mitsuko said, “and that is why we must find him first.”

“She is absolutely right, my lord,” Katashi agreed at once. “We cannot risk any clan succumbing to the Dark Lord. There must be no tolerance, no lapse in vigil. One error and a plague of spiritual corruption far exceeding the disease gripping the Empire could begin.”

 “I can see no other option but to deal with this matter personally,” Bushiken said. “What resources do you require, Mitsuko-sama?”

“I need more Inquisitors,” she answered. “My duties are such that I cannot handle every aspect of the investigation myself.”

Bushiken glanced at Katashi. “Recommendations?”

“Serizawa and Asai,” Katashi replied at once. “I will summon them. They will be here by morning.”

* * * * *

“Speak,” Bayushi Paneki commanded as he swept through the gates leading into Kyuden Bayushi. He dismounted smoothly and allowed his steed to be taken away even as he removed his heavy winter traveling cloak and let it fall to the ground, only to be snatched up inches from the snow-speckled earth by a servant.

“All is in readiness, my lord,” Bayushi Jutsushi replied. “Word of your arrival came by messenger three days ago. In that time, all you requested in attendance have been able to reach the castle. The last arrived one hour ago.”

“They have been made aware of the Empress’ proclamation?”

“As you commanded, lord,” the magistrate said with a bow. “There has been some… discussion… since lord Koji-sama arrived a short time ago.”

“That is to be expected,” Paneki observed, almost to himself. He glanced at Jutsushi, noticing him for the first time. “Why is my hatamoto not greeting me himself?”

“He is entertaining your guests at the moment, my lord,” Jutsushi replied. “He felt your arrival should be private, and has arranged some matter of import to be discussed. No one should disturb you.”

The Scorpion Champion nodded. “What is your role in the court?”

“My duty is to observe the guests at all times,” Jutsushi replied. “I have been assisting the governor in identifying private relationships between them. Affairs, rivalries, that manner of thing.” He paused for a moment. “At least, that was my duty until three days ago. I have been made responsible for ensuring all is in readiness in anticipation of your arrival.”

“Well done,” Paneki said as he crossed into one of the secondary entrances to the castle. “Inform my hatamoto that you will be joining my personal staff at the conclusion of the Winter Court.”

Jutsushi remained outside the threshold that marked the entrance into the palace’s innermost series of chambers, rooms that were reserved for the highest ranking Scorpion. “Thank you, my lord. I am greatly honored.”

Moments later, Paneki entered one of his private audience chambers. There was heated discussion taking place within; it was obvious from the tone of the murmurs audible outside the doors even if the special construction of the room prevented anything being overheard intelligibly from outside. As soon as the doors swung open, however, all conversation ceased, and those within bowed deeply before their Champion. A chorus of “My lord” and “Paneki-sama” was uttered, but he waved them away. “You know the matter of discussion,” he said. “Speak your thoughts.”

“I have seen great chaos during my lifetime,” Yogo Koji said, “but this may be the most dangerous thing that I have ever seen take place.”

“Your penchant for melodrama remains intact, I see,” the Soshi daimyo observed softly.

“This is serious, woman!” Koji nearly bellowed. He glanced at Paneki. “I apologize for my tone, my lord, but surely you must see how significant this is. The Empress has extorted her people to have contact with Daigotsu! This can only lead to disaster!”

“I seriously doubt that the average samurai is going to forsake his duties to search for the Dark Lord,” Soshi Yukimi said. “And even if he does, do you believe that Daigotsu will be so easily found?”

“The Spider have tendrils everywhere,” Shosuro Toson said. “I believe this was the Empress’ most effective means of making contact with Daigotsu. He will surely hear of her proclamation. Will he choose to answer it? It seems unlikely, but if he did, which would be more damaging: if he appeared unannounced and the Empress admitted him, or if it was known that he was expected?”

“That thought has occurred to me as well,” Paneki mused. “I believe you are correct, Toson.”

Koji’s scowl intensified, but he nodded respectfully to his lord. “What are we to do, then, Paneki-sama?”

“We are Scorpion. We protect the empire from threats unseen. If the Empress wishes Daigotsu found, he shall be located before the other clans have begun their efforts.”

Koji rubbed his chin. “Would you have him experience… an accident? Before we discovered him, of course.”

“The Empress’ will shall be obeyed as long as I rule this clan,” Paneki said sternly. “I know you believe that you think of the Empire, Koji, but while I am Champion, there shall be no difference between service to the Empress and service to the Empire. Is that understood?”

 “As you command, my lord,” Koji bowed deeply. “Finding the Dark Lord will be a difficult task. Perhaps impossible.”

“That is not necessarily true,” Yukimi observed.

Paneki took a deep, slow breath. “You speak of using the Oni’s Eye,” he finally said.

“What?” Koji shouted. “My lord, no!”

“It is the best hope we have of finding the Dark Lord,” Toson agreed. “I am not comfortable with using the accursed thing, but if it is your will that the Scorpion find Daigotsu, my lord, this is the most promising avenue.”

“Insanity!” Koji roared. “The damnable thing will destroy us all! It is corruption given form!”

“It does not appear to be corrupted by Jigoku,” Toson said with a frown.

“As near as we can tell, but we there is much we still do not know about the Eye.” Koji glared around the room. “We have barely begun our investigations, and already have discovered many risks! It warps the minds and souls of those who use it!”

“Enough,” Paneki said, raising his hand. He contemplated the matter for a few moments. “We will use the Eye.”

“Please, my lord,” Koji began.

“I said enough,” Paneki reminded him. “Koji, you will place one of your agents in direct supervision of the act. Toson, you will permit this to occur. This is a matter of grave importance.” He paused again, as if considering something very seriously. “If the attempt fails, then we will use Korenaga.”

Toson paled slightly. “My lord, we have never allowed such a thing. Someone corrupted using the Eye could have unforeseen consequences.”

“And if it does, you shall have a member of the Kuroiban on hand to deal with the ramifications.” Paneki said. “This is my final decision. We are Scorpion, and we will enact the Empress’ will no matter the cost. Do any of you question this?”

“No my lord,” they all answered.

“So be it.”

* * * * *

The man known as Katsu waited patiently, ignoring the pointed stares of the guards who barred his path. The many stone spires known as the Fingers of Bone stretched in all directions, but this one, one of the smaller of the spires, was restricted to all save the Dark Lord himself. Any who attempted to enter it would be killed, although to Katsu’s knowledge none had tried. The massive, nameless warriors that Daigotsu had selected to oversee the entrance never spoke, and as near as anyone could tell, never left their duty stations. Katsu could see into their souls, and he knew that they were not what they appeared to be. Yet even his power could not tell him what was within the Dark Lord’s spire, or why he entered it alone each day for hours at a time. Something within him urged him to force his way in and see for himself, but even the madness-bringing power of the khadi could not drive him to that end. Katsu was not certain that he could defeat Daigotsu and, more importantly, he felt that devotion to his lord was one of the final handholds that he possessed preventing him from descending into absolute insanity. Katsu had seen the madness of Iuchiban, and wanted none of it. He may have had no love for his lord, but his honor demanded some degree of loyalty despite it.

            The whisper of black silk was audible as the Dark Lord of the Shadowlands emerged from the thick, all-concealing curtains that marked the spire’s entrance. His demeanor, as ever, was inscrutable, but Katsu detected some slight sense of annoyance. Daigotsu responded to the bows of the guards with a dismissive gesture, then stared at Katsu for a moment. “What has happened?”

            “My lord,” Katsu said, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “We have received word from your vassal Susumu.”

            Daigotsu nodded slowly. “For him to risk contact it must be significant. Was there any compromise of our communication network?”

            “It does not appear so,” Katsu said. “There was a near detection with our man among the Komori, but nothing disastrous.”

            “Eliminate secondary agents on the periphery,” Daigotsu ordered. “See to it that your man is responsible for their detection and elimination. Remove any doubt regarding his loyalties.” Daigotsu smiled slightly. “It is good enough for the Scorpion, is it not?”

            “As you command,” Katsu said with a bow. “There has been a proclamation from the Empress, my lord. One concerning you.”

            Daigotsu folded his hands into his sleeves. “What is it?”

            “She commands her subjects to scout the Empire and find you,” Katsu said. “She wishes you brought before her. Not for execution, but for a dialogue of some sort.”

            “A dialogue,” Daitogsu said. “Interesting. What has been the reaction?”

            “Susumu reports some confusion, possibly the first lacings of discontent, but the Empress’ subjects appear to be complying for the moment.”

            “Fascinating,” Daigotsu said, almost to himself. He glanced at Katsu with a curious expression. “What do you make of it?”

            The khadi shrugged slightly. “We know that the Empress experienced a moment of omniscience at the point of her ascension, but that her recall of that information is not absolute. Might she have learned and recall that you have Jackals among your vassals? It is possible. If so, she may hope for some insight into the nature of the Destroyers.”

            “If that is correct, then she is willing to risk the distrust of her people in order to save their lives,” Daigotsu mused. “Perhaps she is more than I imagined.”

            “We may need to prepare additional measures to prevent the discovery of this place,” Katsu said. “I assume you will not wish to relocate?”

            “There will be no relocation,” Daigotsu said. “I will make preparations. I may have need of your unique talents.”

            Katsu stared for a moment. “You cannot be considering this,” he said.

            “There shall be a dialogue, to be sure,” Daigotsu answered with a thin smile. “But it shall be on my terms, and no others.”

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The Proclamation

By Rusty Priske

Edited by Fred Wan

Ide Eien looked above the walls of Kyuden Gotei as the expression of the Jade Dragon dipped lower towards them. The days always seemed shorter when surrounded by worked stone, but Eien was used to that – maybe more than any other Unicorn. The Ide daimyo was rarely afforded the luxury of the open plains in the same manner that the Moto or Utaku were.

Eien looked up and gave a thin-lipped smile to the severe looking woman who approached him down the stone garden path. She bowed deeply and he returned the gesture, to half of the depth. “Good afternoon Yong-tai-san.”

Moto Yong-tai did not return his smile, though this was not specific to this moment. She rarely smiled publicly. “Good afternoon, Eien-sama.” She glanced around the garden. “I have assessed the nature of the offer from the Phoenix and am prepared to advise you, as you requested.” She paused. “This is an odd place for a negotiation, is it not?”

Eien smiled again, in a manner that was his most Scorpion-like. Yong-tai, painfully proper as she was, would never admit it, but it was clear to the new Ide daimyo that she did not trust him. He knew very well that would not stop her from fulfilling her duty, however.

Eien shrugged. “I think the Phoenix want us to feel more at home. They think that our preference for open spaces would have us think that one of these sculpted gardens could replace the natural beauty of the hills and plains. They fall into the same pattern of mistakes that the Crane make.

Yong-tai arched her eyebrow, and Eien knew that he had now made her question her assumptions about him.  “I agree, Eien-sama. We are but temporary caretakers of the world, while it is eternal. We find our destiny only when we pass beyond this life. Trying to leave our mark while we are here is futile.”

Eien smiled, while frowning internally. He had dealt with many whose devotion to the Shi-Tien Yen-Wang was this absolute, but they did not generally make the best negotiators. The vagaries of treaties were very earthly concerns.

Eien did not respond verbally as he saw the Phoenix delegation approaching.

Isawa Ochiai led Masakazu and another young samurai who might have been a second yojimbo, but Eien did not think that was the case.

After an appropriate sequence of bowing, the Master of Fire introduced her young companion. “Please allow me to introduce Shiba Yoshirou. It is he who proposed this meeting to me, so I would have him present his proposal to you as well, if that meets with your approval.”

Eien bowed his assent while mentally surveying the situation. Yoshirou was likely learning the trade of the court and had been given this task to test his skills. Ochiai would observe and interject if he were in any danger of agreeing to something objectionable or doing anything that would cast a poor light on the Phoenix. The Ide daimyo tried to find some way he could turn this to his advantage without appearing to do so.

Yoshirou began, “Thank you Ide-sama. Thank you Ochiai-sama. We are all keenly aware of the destruction wrought by the Army of Fire this past year. The toll it has taken on both our clans binds us in ways that those in the more southern lands can never truly understand. What you may not be aware of is that during the assault on Kyuden Isawa much of the library there was destroyed. Despite the best efforts of the Master of Water to preserve it, only a fraction could be spared. In light of this we are attempting to regain the lost volumes by gaining access to the libraries of other clans so that our scribes can make copies of whatever information they would allow us access to. Having a central repository of knowledge is important for all of Rokugan and has always been a priority of the Phoenix.

 “We are indeed aware that some items preserved by these libraries is private information and our host’s privacy would be respected and what would be deemed off limits would be kept so.” Yoshirou waited briefly, seemingly aware of his tendency to blurt, as if afraid of interruption.

“We consider the sharing of knowledge to benefit everyone, so if the Unicorn would agree to allow a few of our scholars and scribes access to your libraries, we would reciprocate by also scribing copies of an appropriate amount of material from our own store to be left with yours.” Yoshirou – a little winded by his speech – bowed to both delegations.

Ochiai’s carefully assessment of Yoshirou’s remained internal, but Eien felt sure she would have taken note of his mistakes. She was no courtier, but her position made her more than capable of handling such a simple negotiation. Yoshirou had promise, perhaps, and he would benefit from her comments, whatever they might be. Eien had listened to Yoshirou’s clumsy attempts but spent his time watching Ochiai. He knew that if there were any advantages to be gained, they would be through the Master of Fire, not the young Shiba. “Such a transaction carries much weight, Shiba-san, and would be very important to our shugenja. As such, I have requested that Moto Yong-tai act as my advisor in this. Do you have any comments, Yong-tai-san?”

The Moto inclined her head to the Ide as the attention of the delegations turned to her. Her voice rose in a formal tone, “A great many of my concerns have been addressed by the Phoenix and I find the stipulations of the exchange quite amenable and not something the heads of our schools will protest.”

Eien nodded and then turned back to the Phoenix. “Then my personal opinions are confirmed and I believe we have come to the beginnings of an agreement. Shall we retire indoors where we can discuss the details of this arrangement over tea?”

Before either Ochiai or Yoshirou could reply, an Otomo stepped into the garden, deliberately into their line of sight. All eyes turned to him as he quietly announced that their presence was expected in the main court.

* * * * *

The court was always crowded, but it nearly burst at the seams when an appearance by the Empress was expected. The simple words of the Otomo were vague, but ample enough for all to know that they should not consider being elsewhere at this time.

The general murmur throughout the court continued apace as servants entered through a non-descript door at the west end of the hall. One by one, the various courtiers tore themselves away from whichever conversation they were having, whether important matters of state or idle gossip, as they saw those servants setting up ornate screens, obscuring the view of that door. The first to notice moved themselves into ideal viewing positions, while those lagging behind had to make do peeking past other people’s fans and heads.

It was not long before their collective assumptions were proven correct and Togashi Satsu appeared from behind the screen. As he did, everyone in the court knelt, bowing their heads deeply until they were prostrate before the Voice of the Empress, in honor of the one they knew to be behind the screens.

Togashi Satsu looked over the kneeling throng, seemingly taking mental note of who was in attendance. He then spoke, in the stentorian tone that he used when fulfilling his charge. “Empress Iweko the First will make a statement that is to be spread well beyond these walls. There are representatives present from all clans. Each of you are tasked with ensuring that this proclamation is shared with all within the Empress’ lands that are under your care.” Satsu paused and then said. “You may stand.”

Isawa Ochiai noticed that when Ide Eien rose, he did so with the deadly grace of a viper. She wondered if others judged her in the same manner when she leaned slightly on Masakazu to rise.

The Voice of the Empress waited until all in the court returned to their feet. He did so without moving or expressing anything through his manner other than a stoic silence. When he chose, he continued speaking. “Rokugan faces perils greater than any that it has faced for many years. Plague ravages the land and wounds our ability to defend the Empire. Some of those fallen from it rise again in a blasphemous mockery of life and take up arms against those who were their brothers and sisters. In the midst of this strife, a foreign menace strikes from beyond our borders.” Satsu paused, his eyes passing over some of the Crab in court. Hida Reiha returned this with a stare, without blinking. “The Wall has been breached.”

The former Dragon scanned the court, allowing them time to absorb what he had said on behalf of the Empress. There were always those who questioned and doubted the seriousness of the situation, living so far from the battle as they did. The intensity of Satsu’s words and the sternness of his gaze dispelled those doubts in an instant. “Yet the Empress did not come to her Winter Court in order to discuss defeat, but rather how we will refuse defeat. Throughout the history of the great empire of Rokugan, there are tales of the clans banding together to vanquish great threats against our borders and our ruler. The Empress has great faith in the strength of the clans under her command. She knows that no samurai will rest until every threat is defeated or until the call of the ancestors takes them beyond the pull of this world. Yet she also knows that there are times when steel is not enough to defeat the enemy. She praises the courage of those who serve her, but must also prepare for a time when the final samurai walks the land and Rokugan is no more.”

Satsu paused again and surveyed the shocked faces, all trained on him. “But that time has not yet come. The best way to prepare for the end is to ensure it does not happen, so the Empress will do what needs to be done in order to preserve Rokugan and those who claim it as their home. We will not fall to a plague or demons from across the sands, as long as we do everything we can to diminish such a threat.” For the first time, Satsu hesitated, rather than paused.

After an almost imperceptible delay, Togashi Satsu spoke again, without a hint of waver or uncertainty in his voice. “The Empress Iweko states that she will do no less. It is in this spirit that she countermands a previous Imperial Proclamation and replaces it with the following: By order of Empress Iweko the First, all citizens of Rokugan are hereby instructed that Daigotsu, the self-styled Dark Lord of the Shadowlands, formerly announced as an enemy to the throne and empire, is to be found and brought before the Empress. The order that he be immediately put to death if found is temporarily countermanded barring further instructions from the throne.”

The hall itself seemed to gasp as the weight of the order settled over the occupants. Satsu vanished behind the screen and, after a moment, the servants began disassembling it.

Susumu willed himself to not rush from the room. He calmed his own breathing and heartbeat and refused to show any sign that the proclamation had any effect on him, as he knew that many would be watching him. He had to get word back to Daigotsu. Even if the notice did nothing to help the Lord of the Spider, failure to hear of this proclamation from Susumu before another source would reflect poorly on the Advisor. He felt Moto Yong-tai’s eyes upon him, scrutinizing him for any reaction. The Hidden Guard did so frequently, but now, as ever, he gave her nothing.

Everything would change, now.

Hiruma Todori’s expression was inscrutable as he accompanied Hida Reiha away from the main court. When they had achieved relative privacy, the Crab Champion turned to the Hiruma daimyo and said simply, “Speak.”

Todori’s eyes narrowed. “What would you have me say, Reiha-sama?”

“You can hide your thoughts from those out there,” she motioned back towards the court, “but not from me. Speak openly. Your words will go no further than my ears.”

Todori’s voice lowered even further. “I am not sure that this is the wisest path for the Empress to take.”

Reiha’s eyebrow raised but she waited for Todori to continue.

“Consorting with the enemy to defeat another enemy still leaves you surrounded by enemies. This is a lesson that every Crab has learned.”

Reiha waited again and then said, “And?”

Todori sighed. “And it is a great insult to the Crab. Lord Kuon died to erase the shame of the fallen Wall, yet then the Empress turns to Daigotsu for help, rather than leaving us to defeat the threat in our own way.”

“Do not see shame where there is none, Todori-san. Whatever the Empress seeks from Daigotsu, I am not convinced that it is aid, or that she wishes to consort with him, as you say. However, if we are to show the Empress why the Crab have been tasked with the defense of the Empire, perhaps it should be the Crab who find Daigotsu and ensure that he cannot take advantage of his stay of execution. The Empress has ordered that he not be put to death, but she said nothing about all those who would stand with him.”

Todori bowed his head sharply. “I am owed favors among the Mantis,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “I can use them to get a message to my officers among the Hiruma House Guard who stand watch in the Imperial City, and to our kinsmen on the front line.”

“Do it,” Reiha ordered at once.

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The L5R Team

The Widening Circle

By Nancy Sauer

Edited by Fred Wan

Years ago, north of the Empire

Master Saleh folded his arms within his robes and tried to convince himself that this made him warmer.  He was no stranger to cold, having hunted in the desert in the days of his youth, but these hills held a cold worse than he had ever known: it was clammy and wet, and it wormed its fingers into his clothes and flesh and clenched at the bones beneath. 

         “We should not have come here,” he announced.  “This land is clearly accursed.  It will be the death of us.” 

         Fatina looked up from the animal skull she was examining.  “The land we left behind is now accursed, and would have been death of us had we stayed.  Besides, it cannot be so bad, the Monkey Man came this way.”

         Master Saleh almost countered that the Monkey Man was insane, but he remembered who he was speaking to.   Fatina’s mind wandered in and out of sanity like a cat that couldn’t decide which side of the door it liked better.  “The Monkey Man’s plan is ill-thought,” he said instead.  “What did he think he could find here?”

         “He will find what we need to fight her,” Fatina said. 

         “And how does he know this?”

         “I told him,” Fatina said simply, and went back to studying the skull.

         Master Saleh blinked at this.  “You?”  Fatina was no scholar, and he wasn’t even sure she knew how to read.  The idea that she knew something he didn’t was appalling.  “What did you tell him?  Why didn’t you tell me?”

         Fatina shrugged slightly, running a finger along the curve of an empty jaw.  “The fewer people who knew where he was going the better.  The Destroying One came from here; to let slip our interest in the stories would have been a disaster.”

         Patience, Master Saleh reminded himself.  The only sure method of getting information out of Fatina was patience.  “What stories?”

         “The stories,” Fatina said.  “They tell them in the marketplace, and in the servants’ quarter, and down in the mines when the slaves stop for water and to beg the gods to keep the roof from falling in.  The poison folk brought them first, in my great-grandmother’s time, and when the odd one came his servants brought more.”

         “Stories from this land,” Master Saleh said after untangling her words.  “What good are they to us?”

         “Stories are the bones of the world,” Fatina said.  “When the scavengers tear away the flesh and devour the sinews it is the bone that remains to tell us what has happened.” She bent down and breathed on the skull, and it shrieked in reply.  “The Destroying One, our enemy, the one whose name is bitter in the mouth like myrrh, like alum, like ashes–that one has power like unto a god’s.”  

         She looked up out into the valley spread out before them.  “And in this land, they breed killers of gods.”

 * * * * *

Months ago, in the heart of the Shinomen Mori

“I came as soon as I received your summons, my lord,” Konetsu said.  His bow was deep and graceful, but it lacked something of his normal elegance.  The change did not escape Daigotsu’s notice.

         “You are always prompt,” the Dark Lord said.  “You have gone over Sekawa’s letter?”

         “Yes, my lord,” Konetsu said.  “I believe I have determined its meaning.”

         “But not completely,” Daigotsu said.

         To his credit, Konetsu was not flustered by the statement.  “No, Daigotsu-sama,” he said.  “I regret not.  Not yet.”

         “How can this be?”  Chuda Mishime said.  “You were a Crane, he was a Crane.  Weren’t  you trained in their cadence?”

         Konetsu gave him a condescending look.  “And what do you know of cadence?”

         “Nothing,” Daigotsu said, recapturing both men’s attention.  “And I would like to hear what you have learned.”

         “Of course, my lord,” Konetsu said.  “The letter is addressed to Asahina Keitaro, but the real recipients were to be the four other Keepers–Sekawa meant for Keitaro to extract the real meaning from his message, and pass it on to them.  The message itself deals with the Shadowlands and the nature of its relationship with its avatar.”

         “And what did he have to say about this?” Daigotsu asked.  His eyes had narrowed behind his mask, but he allowed himself no other reaction.

         “I do not know, my lord,” Konetsu said.  ”Yet.  Sekawa and Keitaro worked closely for a number of years, long enough to develop a variant of cadence that was peculiar to them alone.  But they were both Asahina, both shugenja–with time I am sure I can unravel more of the letter’s meaning.”

         “Time better spent doing something else,” Mishime said.  “What could he know about the Shadowlands that Daigotsu-sama does not?”

         “We cannot know until the letter is deciphered.  But Sekawa was the Jade Champion and the Keeper of Five–and if Rekai is correct, he took a large store of scrolls from the Tomb.  There is no saying what insights he is capable of.”

         “The Keeper of Five,” Mishime scoffed.  “The ‘enlightened’ Jade Champion.  I had my vassals keep careful watch on what he did and said–he was no different than any other shugenja, babbling on about Shinsei’s teachings.”

         “If understanding the teachings of Shinsei–being enlightened, as you say–made you obviously wise, then Yogo Junzo would have had no troubles locating Shinsei’s heir,” Konetsu said.  “It would be a dreadful mistake to underestimate Asahina Sekawa.”

         “Silence,” Daigotsu said, before Mishime could reply.  “Konetsu, you are to continue your investigations.  Mishime, you will give him whatever aid he requires of you.”

         “Your will, my lord,” Konetsu said.  He made no attempt to hide his pleasure.

         “Without question, Daigotsu-sama,” Mishime said, his face showing nothing but obedience.

*     *      *      *     *

Weeks ago, in the Fingers of Bone

“This is unbelievable,” Hotako said.  “Daigotsu-sama, are you sure you are not mistaken?”

         “Do you question your lord?” Mishime said.

         “Absolutely,” Hotako said, “when it is in his best interest for me to do so.  This threatens every single one of our plans–I think it is important to make sure that we are not going on a tsu-fish chase.”

         “It cannot be correct,” Isawa Fosuta said.  “Such a thing would be as if–” he paused to think of something appropriate.

         “As if the sun and moon were cast down and replaced with dragons that no one has ever heard of,” Michio said.  Fosuta gave him a venomous look.  Hotako smiled slightly.  Michio ignored them both, his attention on Daigotsu.

         “Exactly as if,” Daigotsu said quietly.  “And there is no doubt of its truth.”  His eyes flicked over his advisors.  “There is only one course of action open to us.”

         Mishime bolted to his feet.  “My lord, I beg for permission to be excused.  I must go at once and begin the search.  Every member of my family will abandon their present duties and turn to this.”

         “You are excused,” Daigotsu said.  “All of you are, save for Michio.”  When the others had departed he turned to the monk.  “You were not disturbed by my announcement.”

         Michio shrugged slightly.  “If you are strong, you will weather this crisis as you have so many others.  If you are weak, I will go and advance my enlightenment elsewhere.”

         Daigotsu smiled.  “I have many servants who lack the blessings of Taint.  But of them I trust only you, for there is no deception in you.”

         “Only me?” Michio said, curious.  “What of Susumu?  He has served you for months, under conditions of great peril.”

         “Susumu,” Daigotsu said.  “When I sent him to Seppun Hill I had no doubt of him.  He has shown considerable ingenuity by getting reports of the Empress’s court to me.  And yet there has been a slow shift of tone in those reports–a distancing of sorts.  It disturbs me.”

         “You think she has turned him.”  Michio’s tone made clear what he thought of that.

         “As you have noted, he is in great peril.  The distancing could be nothing more than a ruse of his, another layer of deception to throw his Bayushi hosts off the scent.”  Daigotsu paused.  “But she is the Daughter of Heaven, and he has lived these months under her eye, in her presence.  I have not lived this long by underestimating my enemies.”

         “Your orders, my lord?”

         “Wait.  And watch.”

*     *     *     *     *

         “You do not seem concerned by the task we have been given,” Fosuta said.

         Hotako looked sideways at him while they walked down the corridor.  “Should I be?”

         “It is a difficult thing he has asked of us.”

         “Not so,” Hotako said.  “At a certain point he may call upon me to kill Shosuro Jimen, a man with all the resources of the Emerald Champion and, one guesses, most of the Scorpion Clan at his disposal.   That will be difficult–this is merely tedious.”

         Fosuta smiled at her.  “And you will brave the tedium to complete the task, for that is your lord’s desire.”

         “Of course,” Hotako said.  “Why else?”

         “Why else indeed,” Fosuta said.  He excused himself and turned down another corridor.  “Why else, indeed,” he murmured to himself.

*     *     *     *     *

Days ago, in the Fingers of Bone

The scroll’s paper had already seen one life as scratch paper: the outer side was filled with hurried sketches, notes on metal content of various alloys, and a few brown smudges that Daigotsu quickly identified as blood.  When he unrolled it he was not surprised to find that the other side contained several dirt smudges and a note written in calligraphy of the highest quality.  When it came to matters of craftsmanship, Yajinden was utterly predictable.

My Lord,

I am taking time away from my work to write this to you; I am sure that you will appreciate the degree of loyalty this implies.  The woman bearing this letter, Asako Kinuye, is a monk of great learning and a tsukai of great power.  Her tendency to flout seasonal conventions when designing gardens is more arty than artistic, but that should not affect her usefulness to you. 

Yours in service,

Daigotsu Yajinden

         Daigotsu rolled the scroll back up.  “Yajinden thinks quite highly of you,” he said.

         “I am gratified to hear that,” Kinuye said.  “He is not the type of person who suffers fools gladly.”

         “Indeed.  I am sure you had a reason for seeking an audience with me, and so I ask: why?”

         “This requires some explanation,” Kinuye said.  “You are familiar with divination?”

         “Its basic principles,” Daigotsu said.  “I have found little use for it myself.”

         Kinuye nodded.  “Divination is fundamentally flawed.  The omens are always truthful, but the diviner can completely miss their significance.  Any fool with a handful of yarrow stalks could have foreseen Yakamo’s fall, but no one in all of Rokugan foretold it.  It was too unimaginable.  I use divination only in my garden, to decide when to prune the lilacs and if crossing this plant with the other will produce the flower color I desire.”

         “I don’t think you have come to discuss gardening with me.”

         “Correct,” Kinuye said.  “Over the past months I have been noticing peculiarities in my divinations.  I disregarded them at first, but over time I have noticed patterns.  They make no sense to me, but the symbols I see repeat themselves again and again.”  She gazed into the middle distance for a moment, and then met Daigotsu’s eyes.  “I have begun to wonder if I am not a fool with a handful of yarrow stalks.”

         Daigotsu was silent for a moment.  Yajinden had carefully avoided mentioning if Kinuye was trustworthy, but that, like her taste in gardens, did not render her useless.  If she was capable of discovering even the broad outlines of what was going on, then she would be worth all the effort it took to protect himself from her.

         “I imagine your departure from the Phoenix limits your ability to do research,” he said.  “If you were to agree to share the results of your studies, I could aid you in this.  The Chuda have a number of talented diviners, though I doubt that any of them are familiar with lilacs.”

         Kinuye smiled and bowed slightly.  “That should not be a problem, Daigotsu-sama.”

*     *     *     *     *

Now, somewhere in the Empire

Long after the other man had fallen asleep, Chuda Genkei remained where he was sitting, staring at him.  Long matted hair and sallow skin pulled too-tight over high cheekbones; presence that hit like a tetsubo and a mind that danced along pathways Genkei could barely follow.

         He wanted to scream.  He wanted to dance.  He wanted to cry.  He wanted to kill everyone in this ratty little village.

         The last, at least, would happen, but not just yet.  They would require the shack they were presently in for a little while longer, and while that was true the village would remain.  Genkei licked his lips, thinking of what they would do when they left.

         Quietly he rose to his feet and made his way to the door.  Easing it aside slowly he slipped into the shack’s common room.  Daigotsu Minoko looked up as he entered, her face showing nothing but the duelist’s habitual calm.  Genkei walked over to her.

         “We must send word to Daigotsu,” he said.  “We have found him.”

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