L5r - scroll 01 - The Scorpion Read online

  Had his lifelong friendship with Doji Hoturi, the Crane daimyo, not forced a truce between their clans, Toturi felt sure the Lions could have regained all the lands they had lost to the Crane previously—even Toshi Ranbo wo Shien Shite Reigisaho.

  Despite his aptitude as a commanding general, Toturi was not a warlike man. In fact, he had not even been much of a worldly man—not until that night with Bentai.

  General Ikoma Bentai was a self-made samurai. Born to a farming family, he'd joined the Lion army and—through dint of his heroism—earned the dai-sho and samurai ranks. He'd even acquitted himself nobly in the battle where Toturi's brother and their uncle, who had been Lion Champion at that time, fell.

  Bentai possessed and lusted for all of the earthly experiences that Toturi lacked. After routing the bandits, Bentai had insisted with all due politeness that his daimyo join him and his men on their celebratory trip to the local geisha house.

  "How can you lead men when you have no knowledge of what it is like to truly be a man?" Bentai had said to Toturi. "Samurai are not all high thoughts and battles. A man must learn to enjoy life. Why, I doubt if you've even seen a geisha perform. A man hasn't lived until a woman from the Willow World sings to him. Come!"

  At first Toturi had demurred, but the general's good-natured prodding finally convinced him. Toturi remained profoundly glad he had listened to his general.

  Toturi had seen immediately that Hatsuko was not like other geisha. Yes, she had the ways of the Willow World, the softness of voice and form, the skill with music and conversation, the shaved eyebrows and white-painted skin. But she also had another quality, something Toturi found hard to define. He found himself returning to that geisha house again and again.

  After a time, he knew he loved her. He could not let her stay where she was. The life of a geisha was no life for the lady of the Lion Champion. He should buy her contract, sweep her away from the geisha house, build her that mountain cabin he dreamed of. There, nestled in the Spine of the World, the two of them would find the solitude that their love needed to grow and flourish. He knew this, but his plan remained only a dream.

  His duties in the Imperial Court interfered with his dreams. Even in times of relative peace, there were battles to be fought, enemies to be deposed, endless processions of pomp and pageantry, and the incessant intrigues of the court. It seemed peace only increased the plotting and back-stabbing. Scorpion and Crane and Phoenix insisted on making everyday life more complex than it needed to be.

  Why couldn't a man be allowed to enjoy what he'd won? Why couldn't Toturi simply ask the emperor for release from his unwanted engagement to that Phoenix woman? Why did the courage to do this one, simple thing escape him?

  Yet escape him it did.

  When he came to the geisha house now, the Lion arrived in disguise. He wore simple clothes, a broad-brimmed straw hat, and peasants' zori sandals. The disguise agreed with his monastic upbringing. In fact, Toturi felt more at home in it than he did in the elaborate kimonos he was often forced to wear at court.

  Though obligated to lead his clan, this life—the simple life—truly agreed with him. Fresh air, clean water, beautiful landscapes, and of course, the woman he loved. This was all Toturi needed to be truly happy. This place was so close to his dream—so close. The Lion daimyo wiped the sweat from his forehead and split another log.

  A soft sound, like the voice of a nightingale, disturbed his reverie.

  "Toturi-sama," the nightingale said, "I have made dinner for us."

  Toturi split a last log and embedded his axe in the stump. He turned and saw a sight that made warm fire run through him.

  Hatsuko bowed. The late-afternoon sun flashed off her black hair. She had dressed in a flowered kimono, cut modestly, and plain sandals. Her face was lovely, even though she kept it painted in geisha fashion: white, with arching eyebrows and red lips. Toturi longed to see the true face behind the mask, but he never had. He knew he never would until he bought her contract.

  In his mind he imagined how it might be—how it had been in his dream that morning. Her face would hold a hint of the sun from living outside. He would make her stop painting her face and shaving her eyebrows. "You are no longer a geisha," he would tell her. "You are my love. I will look upon your true face."

  That was the future. In the present, still painted as an entertainer, she was nevertheless lovely.

  As her bow ended, Hatsuko met Toturi's eyes. She smiled at him. The Lion's heart melted all over again. "Your meal awaits, Toturi-sama," she said.

  "Not so formal, Hatsuko-chan," he said, his voice warm with love. "Never so formal with me."

  "You are my love," she replied, "but you are also my lord."

  "As you are the ruler of my heart," he said. He closed the distance between them and embraced her. They kissed, long and passionately.

  When they parted, she said, "After dinner, we will have tea."

  Toturi smiled. Hatsuko performed the tea ceremony better than anyone he'd ever known—even those experts he'd seen at court. The ceremony affirmed and renewed their love.

  No wonder I smile so much, he thought.

  Holding hands, they went inside.

  XXXXXXXX

  After the glow of the tea ceremony had died away, the couple left the cabin for a walk in the woods. Hatsuko is lucky, Toturi thought, to live this close to nature.

  The trees in this part of the Imperial Forest were old. The preserve's larger stands had never been cut for timber. Tall pines predominated the landscape, some so wide that Toturi would have needed two other men to encircle the trunks with their arms. In the tallest part of the forest, the underbrush thinned; wide branches overhead blocked the light smaller plants needed to grow.

  Here the lovers could walk on a blanket of pine needles and listen to the wind whispering through the boughs. Hatsuko had resisted leaving the geisha house at first, but Toturi convinced her. He wanted to show her the natural world as she had shown him the Willow World. Though she held his hand as they walked, her steps were cautious, tentative.

  The pungent aroma of the big trees filled the air. Toturi thought of the morning's deer hunt and suddenly realized he'd left his bow and dai-sho behind. He didn't care. Wrapped in love, he feared nothing in the broad forest. Surely no real threats could lurk so near the Imperial City.

  All that mattered was here, beneath the wide boughs. He was here. His lover was here. The sun, the sky, the trees, all lived in a perfect world with him and Hatsuko. Nearby, he could hear the friendly babbling of the stream as it coursed down the hillside.

  Hatsuko found a flower growing at the base of a tree, a pale lily. She picked the blossom and pleated it into Toturi's long hair behind his left ear, just above his heart. The daimyo dyed his mane yellow like most Lions, and Hatsuko appreciated it. She ran her fingers through the silky black strands as she wove the flower in. Her work completed, she kissed him.

  He seized her shoulders and kissed her back. When they parted, he saw sadness in her eyes.

  "What is it, my love?" he asked softly.

  "I cannot believe ..." she began, and then faltered.

  "Cannot believe what?" Toturi asked.

  She spread her delicate hands and indicated the world around them. "All of this," she said. "This world we live in. I love it, as I love you, but I know it cannot last."

  The Lion daimyo almost laughed, but didn't when he realized how gravely serious she was. Instead, he took her round chin in his large hands.

  "Some things," he said, "will never pass away. This hillside, these trees, the sky above, the water flowing in the stream nearby. Our love is like these things: eternal."

  She closed her round, dark eyes and looked away from him. "Eternal, perhaps, but not unchanging. Even the tallest trees may be felled by men or insects; water may be caught and trapped in still pools; the sky darkens with clouds and weeps with rain. In time a mountain may become no more than a small hillock."

  Toturi took her in his arms once again. "
But that would take an age, and in that age, I will love you as no man has ever loved a woman."

  "I fear that it will not always be so."

  "So long as you are in my arms," he said, "you need never fear."

  "But your position, responsibilities at court, my . . ." she hesitated,"... my situation . .." She trailed off.

  "You are my love," he said softly. "You rule my heart; even the emperor cannot change that."

  "And your fiancee ... ?"

  "I will beg the emperor to dissolve our engagement. I will buy your contract. You will become my lady in name as well as in my heart. I will pledge my allegiance only to you. You will be free."

  "Free," she whispered softly, as if loosing a delicate bird from its cage.

  She put her head against his strong, broad chest, but her apprehensions did not vanish. Instead, they grew greater, as the shadows of the trees filled the forest in the lengthening afternoon.

  Toturi took her hand, and the two of them continued their walk.

  Soon they came to the wide stream that Toturi had encountered both in his dream and in his hunt that morning. They paused and drank, and sat on large, flat rocks they found by the waterside. Toturi told her of battles he had fought since becoming daimyo, and things he had learned while a pupil in the Asoko Monastery. He even sang songs to her.

  Occasionally, she joined her voice to his, and their music drifted up into the leafy canopy like sweet smoke in the afternoon air. Hatsuko had the voice of a songbird, and Toturi marveled every time he heard it. He wondered whether it was her voice that he'd first fallen in love with, or the gentle soul behind the white paint of the geisha.

  Long minutes they spent rapt in nature and music and the wonders of love. Then Toturi asked, "What lies in that direction?" With one long-fingered hand he pointed upstream.

  "I do not know," she said. "I never venture far from the house. I would not be here now except that you are beside me."

  Toturi stood. "Let's find out."

  He took her hand and helped her up. Together they hiked upstream. Soon the stream opened into a broad, clear pool. Fern fronds and smooth rocks lined the pool's banks. At the far end, a waterfall tumbled down the face of the hill, leapt over a tall precipice, and cascaded into the pool, causing soft music as it landed. The setting sun played off the falls, sending shimmering rainbows of light dancing around the forest.

  Toturi and Hatsuko, stunned by the beauty of the scene, caught their breath.

  "This place," he asked, "does it have a name?"

  "I do not know, my lord. No one has ever spoken to me of it."

  He looked at her, and love filled his eyes. "Then I will name it Hatsuko Falls," he said. "The sunlight glinting on the water reminds me of the shine of your hair, and the sound it makes suggests the music of your gentle voice."

  Hatsuko blushed and turned away. "My lord," she said. "You cannot."

  He smiled broadly. "I am the daimyo of the Lion," he said. "I am the general of the emperor's army. He who owns all this land listens to my counsel. Who is to say that, with the emperor's permission, I cannot name things as I like?"

  "Not I, my lord," she said, still avoiding his gaze.

  "Come then," he said, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a hug. "Gaze at the beauty that I behold in you." She turned and did as he bade. Together, they stood there, in that perfect place, in silence for a while.

  Then he stepped away from her. "Can you swim?" he asked, beginning to strip off the top of his robe.

  "No," she answered shyly.

  "Then I shall teach you." He let the robe fall to the forest floor and took her hand. "Come," he said. "Let us see if the purity of these falls can wash away the paint of a geisha."

  But as he turned back to the waterfall, Toturi saw the immense, serpentine form of the dragon.

  THE SCROLL

  Bayushi Tetsuo jumped. He swung his sword in the direction of the menace. It was only his own shadow, cast from the torch held in the right hand of his daimyo.

  Bayushi Shoju chuckled. "Nervous?" he asked.

  "I would be lying if I said no, my lord," the young lieutenant answered. "I have not been in these catacombs since I was a youth."

  "Were you braver then, or more foolish?" the Scorpion daimyo asked.

  "Both, I think. Less wise, certainly," replied Tetsuo. "I wonder if we should have the audacity to try to commune with the dead."

  "Audacity is a Scorpion trait," said Shoju. "As is loyalty. I would dare anything for the empire. Anything."

  Tetsuo nodded. "As would I. Still, I think I'd rather face an army of Crab soldiers than these catacombs."

  "Brace up, Tetsuo. Only your fear can harm you."

  Tetsuo looked at his daimyo and forced a smile. The Scorpion's face remained hidden and unknowable, though the mask he'd chosen for this task was far more fearsome than the one he'd worn at breakfast. Tetsuo wished they'd worn their armor instead of simple robes.

  Shoju had insisted that to wear armor in their own fortress would be an insult to their Bayushi ancestors. "I am master of this place," he had said. "Let the specters fear me; I shall not fear them."

  Tetsuo had reluctantly agreed, but now, so very near the entrance to the sprawling underground, he wished he hadn't. His thumb fingered the hilt of his katana. He edged the sword up from its scabbard just a crack, firmed his resolve, and pushed the sword back down.

  "This way," Shoju said. "I had Soshi Bantaro fetch the best map of the catacombs. Bantaro's not as good a shugenja as Junzo, but he is easier to manage."

  "Naturally, he wanted to come along," said Tetsuo.

  "Naturally, but I forbade it. He may be a Scorpion, but he is not Bayushi. This test—this challenge—is for those of our blood."

  Tetsuo nodded, wishing secretly the sorcerer had come with them. Bantaro was a toady, yes, but he was also powerful. Tetsuo hoped they would not need the magician's skills before the night was through. He brushed aside a thick mass of cobwebs, and the two of them continued deeper into the bowels of the castle.

  Ahead, their torch light gleamed off damp paving stones on the floor of the corridor. Occasionally they passed niches in the wall. Most lay empty, but a few were filled with the bones of forgotten ancestors. Always the samurai took care to avoid touching these unclean things.

  Deeper they went. The floor of the catacombs changed from flagstone to native rock. They had come below the depths of the castle's many cisterns. In the distance they could hear the trickle of water. A foul smell permeated the underground; Tetsuo wondered if the stench would ever wash out of his clothes.

  Soon the map Bantaro had given them grew fragmented and inadequate. Shoju consulted it less and less. Three times they came to places where the passage branched off. Each time Shoju chose the leftmost passage—a course that took them ever farther below.

  They were now deeper than Tetsuo had ever been in his youthful explorations—far deeper. The young Bayushi felt uncertain if he could remember his way back to the surface; he hoped his master could.

  No, he knew his master could. Bayushi Shoju never undertook a task he could not complete. As far as Tetsuo knew, there was no task beyond the daimyo's undertaking. Even now, so deep within the ground, the Scorpion daimyo exuded confidence and control. He never paused in his journey, but pushed ever onward.

  Eventually, the passage debouched into a large, cobweb-filled cavern, a place so enormous that the dim torch light did not reach the other side. The sound of water echoed from somewhere in front of them.

  The Scorpion daimyo rolled up his map and put it away. "From this point on," he said, "the map is useless."

  Tetsuo nodded. "Where are we, Master?" he asked.

  "In Kokorono Sukima, the 'Cavern of the Mind,' as our ancestors called it."

  "I like to think that my mind is considerably more open and airy," Tetsuo said.

  The Scorpion chuckled again, a deep sound like thunder on distant mountains. "You're young yet," he said, stepping into the great open
space.

  "Where do we go from here?"

  "From here, our ancestors will guide our way. We will be given a sign."

  "I hope we won't have to wait long."

  As if in answer to Tetsuo's thought, a strange noise echoed in the cavern. Not the babbling of water, but a kind of skittering noise. Tetsuo looked around to find that the Scorpion daimyo had set down the torch and drawn his sword. The ancient weapon gleamed yellow like a tiger's eyes in the torch light.

  "Not our ancestors?" the youngster asked.

  "No," Shoju said. "Look!"

  Above them and to the right, shadows moved among the cobwebs.

  "And there!" said Shoju, pointing now to their left.

  Tetsuo swung in that direction and drew his katana. The spiders descended toward them on long strands of silk and skittered across the floor.

  They were horrible, hairy things the size of small dogs. Red eyes glowed. Green venom dripped from curved fangs. Pale, skull-shaped marks adorned their backs.

  Shoju attacked. His sword whisked through the air, cutting several descending spiders in two. A spider landed near the daimyo's foot and reared back. Shoju kicked it. The black, crusty body sailed into the darkness.

  "I wish we'd brought more torches!" said Tetsuo. He'd seized the torch Shoju had dropped and was using it as a second sword. Fire seemed to repel the spiders better than steel.

  Shoju whirled in a wide arc. He danced among the spiders and cut down several more. "I'll remember that the next time we come here," he said grimly.

  Tetsuo smiled and set one of the spiders alight with his torch. He spitted another on the point of his sword and sidestepped a third. With a quick motion, like the shiburi used to clean a sword of blood, he flicked the punctured body from his katana. Still writhing, the creature sailed across the cavern and smashed into the bodies of two others.

  "Our ancestors need better servants to clean their house," Tetsuo said.

  "We shall have to tell them when we see them." The Scorpion daimyo continued his dance of death. The bodies of the spiders now lay heaped around him, though the tide of hideous arachnids showed no sign of ebbing.