Takamasa nervously presented himself in my reception hall as “requested” and kneeled in front of me.
“Allow me to guess your results, Takamasa-san—you did not find out anything.”
He bowed low. “Forgive me, my lord. The rumors of Princess Tagako’s impending marriage appear to be true . . . or certainly widespread. This has led to much speculation, but I am certain this is all it is. If anyone aside from the emperor and his inner circle knows who she is to marry, I cannot find them.”
I left him enveloped in my silence for a few more moments. “Then one must assume the emperor has his reasons for keeping it a secret. And yet, is there not something of this situation which you find odd, Takamasa-san?”
“Usually a royal union would be announced with more noise and ceremony,” Takamasa said. “That the groom has not come forward is also a bit strange.”
“Oh, I think it goes beyond this. The marriage has not been announced at all, and yet everyone seems to know about it.”
Takamasa frowned. “My lord?”
“If the court is able to keep the identity of the groom a secret, how is it the impending marriage is even known? Why is one aspect more closely guarded than the imperial regalia, and yet another is common knowledge throughout the Capital?”
“I admit it is curious, my lord, but one such as I would not dare to question the wisdom of the emperor.”
I think, Takamasa-san, you just admitted more than you realize.
“Nor would I, Takamasa-san. Yet I have been known to let my curiosity to get the best of me, from time to time. His Highness, Prince Kanemore, has often remarked upon it. No doubt, when I see him again, he will find this most amusing.”
Takamasa said nothing but merely bowed lower. I was certain it was to hide his face. I wondered what his expression might have told me, had I a chance to read it, but the act of hiding it told me something as well.
“Again I must apologize for failing you, my lord. If there is nothing else you require of me, I have duties.”
“Of course, and there is nothing to forgive. I thank you for your efforts. You may go.”
Takamasa scurried away with undue haste. I glanced at the shoji screen just to the right of the dais. “Did you hear everything?”
Kenji slid the panel aside. “Yes. The question is, did I hear what you heard?”
“Takamasa knows the news of Princess Tagako’s impending marriage was deliberately made known by the emperor’s faction.”
“Yes, but we already knew it was so. Was it not Princess Tagako who told us?”
“True, but there is no way that Takamasa-san should know that nor anyone beyond Prince Kanemore’s compound. Tagako-hime’s servants are as isolated as she is, and I trust Morofusa and Ujiyasu’s discretion.”
“And Toshihide? His men?”
“Handpicked by Prince Kanemore? It goes without saying. No, the news of the marriage was deliberately released, just as the name of the groom was deliberately withheld, even from the bride. The question remains, as it has for nearly all aspects of this, why?”
“So, once more, we’ve basically learned nothing.”
“We learned Takamasa-san has connections within the emperor’s faction, so this places his information about the unfortunate Moritomo in a slightly different light.”
Kenji looked puzzled. “If we assume he’s a spy for the emperor’s supporters and not the Fujiwara . . . why on earth would the emperor’s people want us to know Moritomo was not the onmyōji attacking Princess Tagako?”
“For one thing, it would send me in a direction other than the Fujiwara.”
“After all this, are you saying the Fujiwara were not responsible?”
“For the last two attacks? I had already come to this conclusion. The first two . . . well, three, counting the governor’s original plan . . . they definitely were. If further pursuing the crimes of the Fujiwara should prove inconvenient for the emperor at this time, would it not be desirable to keep us at arm’s length from the Fujiwara as well?”
“It would, as you have not been above kicking a hornets’ nest from time to time. Not to mention being much safer for us.”
“Possibly not for Princess Tagako. I will send a note to Toshihide-san. Be prepared—we’re going back to Kanemore’s compound this afternoon. Plus, there is something I want you to do for me.”
Kenji sighed. “If I must, but we were just there yesterday. She is pleasant company, do not mistake me, but why are we going back now? It’s not as if we’ve been pursuing Prince Kanemore, as that was your theory of precipitating attacks.”
“I may have inadvertently done something more dangerous. If I am right, then there is something important we will learn, but I will not risk having Princess Tagako pay the price for it.”
“If you are wrong?”
“Then my only concern is the princess will grow weary of our company sooner rather than later. I am afraid we will simply have to risk it.”
When we arrived at the compound, I spoke briefly with Toshihide, and then Morofusa and Ujiyasu split off to join the patrols on the ground. Kenji had already fulfilled the errand I had created for him and so remained with me near the garden. While I did not plan to announce our presence to Her Highness, I felt it was inevitable she would discover we were there. Yet the last thing I wanted was for her servants to set up her kicho on the veranda as was her normal habit—she was far too exposed there. If nothing went wrong, we would be able to pay our proper respects later. If it did . . . well, I had been to the northern shore at Eichigo. It was not the worst place to serve an exile. Actual executions were rare but not completely out of the question. Perhaps I could argue for one. It would be no less than what I deserved.
It was after dusk when Toshihide joined us in the garden. “Is all prepared?”
“As well as can be,” I said. “I am not even certain there will be an attack.”
“Yet something makes you suspect there will be.”
“It does. For the moment I must ask that you simply trust my instincts.”
Toshihide grunted. “I always suspect an attack, Yamada-sama. This is little different.”
As night approached us, the moon began its rise into the sky. It was still not near full, but its beauty was growing. In the pale light I saw an owl fly past the perimeter of the walls on silent wings.
Keep him close, Kenji.
Almost as if sensing my thought, Kenji scowled. “It better happen soon, Yamada-sama. This is giving me a headache.”
“Your head will hold out a bit longer,” I said. “Did you hear it?”
We all did. The scream of a hawk in the middle of the night. “One need not create a giant shikigami if its purpose is simply to deliver another.”
The hawk flew in from the north wall. For a moment I was afraid I had misjudged, but Kenji was already muttering.
“Not yet . . . not yet . . . ”
By now I knew Toshihide was staring at the both of us, but I kept my attention on Kenji.
“Almost . . . wait . . . now!”
Just as the hawk soared over the garden there was a flash of white from the underside of the owl’s wings caught in the moonlight. The owl descended on the hawk, catching it just as it reached the middle of the garden. We heard one last scream as Kenji’s shikigami tore the hawk apart.
“Look for the paper!” I shouted—unnecessarily. In another moment the owl floated down and landed on the head of Kenji’s staff. In its talons was something pale and squirming. The owl released it and Kenji grabbed what proved to be a folded piece of paper. Kenji unfolded it and it stopped moving, but he carefully ripped a section off just to be certain.
“There should be another one. Find it!”
“It is harmless, wherever it is. This is the one it was carrying,” Kenji said.
I wanted to be sure, so we searched with torches until we found the one Kenji’s owl had destroyed, hanging from a sakura branch like the last ragged blossom of a spring long past. This shikigami was in much worse shape than the one Kenji held; the script was beyond reading so I turned back to Kenji, who was already examining the first. He finally sighed and handed it to me.
“Same as the first one?” he asked.
I only needed a glance under the torchlight to confirm what I already knew. “Yes.”
“So there were two shikigami, one with wings, and that is how they breached our walls. You believe these are from the same person?” Toshihide asked.
“It appears so. Now we have to find this person,” Kenji said, aiming a sharp glance at me.
“Master Kenji is correct,” I said to Toshihide. “If I discover something which will make your mission easier, I will let you know, but it may take time. Now I am afraid you will have to watch the skies as well until this is settled.”
“Now we know where to watch, so I must thank you for this as well,” Toshihide said. “As for the waiting . . . well, patience is part of my duty.”
As we were speaking, one of Princess Tagako’s attendants approached and asked in the princess’s name what all the commotion was about. Toshihide was quick to reassure her that the immediate danger was past, but she apparently had further instructions.
“If this be the case, Her Highness requests Lord Yamada and Kenji-san speak to her before they leave.”
Kenji glanced at me. “I think it is Lord Yamada who will need to do most of the talking. However, I will gladly watch.”
“You are too kind,” I said and then turned to the girl. “We are at Her Highness’s disposal.”
“You really should stop saying ‘disposal,’ ” Kenji muttered. “One of these days she might take it literally.”
If the girl heard Kenji’s aside, she paid no heed. “Gentlemen, please wait here,” she said and then returned to the main hall.
“Since she was clearly referring only to the pair of you,” Toshihide said, “I believe I will confer with my guards.”
He left us. Not that I blamed him. It was a wise man who did not borrow someone else’s trouble, even though I was not entirely sure we were or indeed should be in trouble, but then I also knew this was not for me to decide.
“She will have questions,” Kenji said. “Do you have answers?”
“That depends entirely on what she wants to know.”
Kenji sighed. “Honestly, Lord Yamada, if you were in her place, what would you wish to know?”
I realized I might be in more trouble than I supposed. Once we had been ushered into Princess Tagako’s presence, I found out how right I was.
“I had almost retired for the evening,” she said without preamble, “and the next thing I knew, the garden was full of torches and shouting.”
“We must apologize,” I said. “There was an issue to attend to.”
“Meaning another attempt on my life,” she said.
I thought the plain admission of the obvious would be better than expounding theories about what I thought had just happened. I was wrong about that, too.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“There is something I wish explained. Would you indulge me?”
I frowned. “If it is within my power.”
“I believe this will be. You have visited me of your own free will a few times but not so often for the sight of you to be overly familiar. Is this not true?” I admitted it was and began another apology, but she stopped me. “We need not discuss that now. What we have established is this—on any given day, you are more likely to be elsewhere than here, yes? If my first statement is true, it follows that this must be also true. Would you agree?”
I did not like the direction the conversation was taking, but I was forced to admit what she said was accurate.
“I would agree,” I said.
“Then will you explain why you and Master Kenji just ‘happened’ to be present on the two occasions since I returned to the Capital when someone tried to kill me?”
I am an idiot.
I did not think she would notice this, but from what I had learned of her in the last few weeks, I realized I should have. Now I was struggling to come up with an explanation that would satisfy her without revealing the truth, since I still was not sure what the entire truth was. Revealing any part of it was dangerous for all concerned. I believed I was starting to see the picture, even if all the pieces were not yet in place.
“Highness, a reasonable person would conclude Kenji and I—well, mostly myself—are simply bad luck.”
She laughed, but my relief and her laughter were both short-lived.
“I believe we have discussed the subject of your luck before now,” she said. “Just as we have discussed the subject of whether or not I am a fool. Have you changed your opinion on the latter?”
“No,” I said. “I have not.”
She drew the veil aside. I could now plainly see the anger on her face. “Lord Yamada, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me your being here tonight was a coincidence.”
I wanted very much to do that, but I could not. Even if I thought I could be convincing, even if she did not know I was lying, I could not do it. I did not wish to lie to her.
“It was not a coincidence, Tagako-hime. I suspected there would be an attack on both occasions. Before you ask, no, I am not at liberty to say why. You do have the right to know, I do not dispute this, but there are other people involved, and more than one life will be at stake if I say more now than I know for certain.”
She slowly pulled the curtain closed. “I would not wish to be the cause of anyone’s misfortune, but I must ask this one thing—do you think,” she said, “there will come a time when the danger is past and you will be able and willing to tell me why I was marked for death?”
“I believe so.”
“Then I will trust you, so long as you understand one day I will want an answer.”
“If the answer is mine to give, I promise I will give it.”
She seemed to resign herself, though with the kicho back in place, it was hard to tell. “I will be content for the time being, though, Master Kenji, I really must insist you stop grinning now. It is a bit unnerving, and under the circumstances, most inappropriate.”
“Forgive me, Highness, I was merely appreciating the fact you’ve gotten the better of Lord Yamada. I do not see that often.”
“Nonsense. You see it every day,” I said.
“Yes, but this time someone else did it.”
Princess Tagako laughed again, only this time it did last for a little while. The hour was late, and we took our leave soon after. I know I should have returned directly to my house in the third ward, but I was not ready. Kenji, however, very much was ready.
“At my age, late night excursions into the city do not have quite the appeal for me which they once did.”
“Only because you’ve gotten lazy and you prefer your ‘excursions’ to come to you.”
Kenji shrugged. “A wise man saves his strength.”
Despite his protests, I had Ujiyasu escort Kenji. Partly to annoy him, but mostly because I knew the streets were never perfectly safe and his priestly status would not dissuade everyone, human or otherwise. Morofusa continued with me, since I would not be persuaded to stop.
“Yamada-sama, where are we going?”
“To the bridge over the Kamo River at the fourth avenue.”
Morofusa glanced up. “There’s still not enough moon to be worth seeing at the moment, Lord Yamada.”
“True, but we are not going for moon-viewing. I wish to view something else. It will not take long, I promise.”
“That is not my concern,” Morofusa said, suppressing a yawn. “Alone, I may not be adequate if we run into trouble.”
“But you are not alone, Morofusa-san. I am with you.”
He sighed and fell into line a few steps off to my right side. “This way I can cover three sides, Yamada-sama. If anyone attacks from your left, do me the courtesy of staying alive until I can reach you.”
“Fair enough.”
It was a quiet evening. We saw no people at all and only one or two small youkai and one moth-demon, all of who seemed intent on their own business and showed no inclination to bother us, I was pleased to see. Despite Morofusa’s misgivings, we reached the Shijo Bridge without incident. We walked to the very center, where I looked out over the water instead of up at the moon.
“What are you looking for?”
“The ghosts. They should be out around now.”
Morfusa frowned, and he followed my gaze down to the level of the water. They were very faint at first, no more than wisps, easily mistaken for mist rising from the water, but I knew better. Soon they had resolved into graceful shapes, sometimes in pairs, often alone, the images of men and women. Not for the first time I wondered if there was anything really left of the people they had once been, or if they were only memories, preserved on the water. There was no way to know. They could not be approached. I had tried, once or twice in my youth, wading into the river where the water was shallow or by boat. They would simply disappear, only to coalesce and reform once I had gone away. It was my earliest understanding that some things were not knowable but simply were and had to be accepted on their own terms.
Honestly, this annoyed the blazing devils out of me at the time. It still did, for all that I understood it was true.
“Why are they here?” Morofusa asked. “Do they see us?”
“No one really knows and probably not. Or if they do see us, it is of no concern . . . to them.”
“This is what you came here to see?”
“Yes.”
Morofusa thought for a moment. “Yamada-sama, may I ask why?”
“Because one theory is these are the ghosts of men and women who died for love.”
Morofusa kept his gaze on the water. “That is very sad.”
“Is it really?”
He looked at me. “You do not think so?”
“Everyone dies and usually not for their own reasons or at a time of their own choosing. No, Morofusa-san, it would only be sad if they died without first learning how to live. I think there was a time when love might have killed me, too. Yet I remain, because I know I am still learning what it means to live. Once I thought I knew, but I was wrong. As for love, it can be a reason for dying. It can also be a reason for living. The one thing it is not is a substitute for either.”
“Then why, if I may ask, did you come here?”
“Because it was the first time in a while I’ve felt the need to remind myself of the things I believe to be true. I place my certainties against the reality of these memories, and decide how the balance turns.”
“So how does the balance turn tonight?”
I smiled. “I am ready to go home.”
It was not an answer, but Morofusa seemed happy enough with it. Or perhaps he only wanted to get away from the ghosts. I envied his certainty that he would leave them at the river. Try as I might, I never could.