Chapter 24
Late Spring, 1237 – The Ivory Palace
The sun had climbed even higher in the sky before Arahime stood, still dazed at what had just passed. Had that really happened? But there was no denying it; the satchel, blindfold, and sword lay on the ground beside her in the empty throne room.
“You never told me how to get to Second City from here…” she said aloud.
Nobody answered.
Well. This is a problem.
For a time, she wandered through the great palace, though she did not know what she expected to find there. Overgrown gardens bursting with flowers, empty kitchens with broken dishes and dust, decayed chambers where once a noble court walked, but no trace of the passage of other people, at least not for many years. She returned to the throne room.
Sitting down next to the spot where she had found Shiba Tsukimi amongst the vines, she rested her chin in her hands tiredly. As she had been walking, her problem became more and more apparent to her. She had food for five days. Better than being here with nothing, but not enough that she could afford to stay for long. She could strike out into the jungle to find more, but she knew, better than anyone, how dangerous the jungle could be. Her stamina had been badly damaged by her injury, and she had barely survived before. Still, the Vānara had told her she was not far from the shore and more inhabited lands. She could reach the shore. But what then?
She had been so concerned with surviving and getting to Second City, she had not considered what she would do when she got there, other than dueling Parashi. To her, it didn’t matter before: she figured that she would find out where the politics of Second City stood by speaking to the local Samurai or Heimen and then determine an approach from there. But that was before she had been entrusted with the Celestial Sword of the Phoenix and Shiba’s letters, and that changed everything.
If Zogeku had decided on conflict with the Empire, those items could be held hostage over the Phoenix. Certainly their political leverage was vast. Even a single samurai or rinjin without honor could find great glory in taking them for himself, killing her, and presenting the bequest of Shiba as given to him. It would be a great temptation to any samurai, and as for her….she was already dead. If she were slain to win such glory, no one would ever know. And her recent experiences of rinjin honor found it very wanting.
She would like to think she could defend herself against an attack, but she knew in her heart that, while she might have once, that path was not open to her any more. Any such fight would be to the death, and she had drunk far too deeply from that well not to know that it lingered near. She simply did not have the stamina needed for such an encounter. It would be a great challenge just to defeat Purashi, though one she was determined to do, no matter the cost.
That left remaining hidden until the beginning of Summer Court. She didn’t know the date, exactly, but that could be some time. Even if she went directly to honorable samurai of the Phoenix, the ones to whom the sword belonged, she still could not fulfill Shiba’s will. Shiba had ordered her to present herself and the sword to the Warlord on the first day of Summer Court. The Phoenix would definitely not wish to do so and would take the blade from her. She had to hide from everyone until Summer Court, but still gain entry to the Warlord’s presence on the first day. In Rokugan, she had allies and friends. But here, there was no one but Doji Mushari, who might himself be dead.
Arahime buried her head in her hands, remembering the giant snake and the vast open wilderness that she had been trapped in. She had survived that, but even if she could get past the jungle between her and Second City, a jungle of politics awaited her. And that, she knew, could be just as deadly. I don’t have a single ally. What am I going to do?
You are Apsara, daughter of the Ikshwaku. Of course the people will protect you. The voice in Arahime’s head, which she had dubbed Big Sister, was calm and confident.
Arahime had not tried to actively seek out the knowledge of the navrathran haar. Such gaijin magic carried risks that should not be taken lightly. But Arahime realized that even long-dead princesses might be able to help her, and this was the only tool she had left. “Big Sister?” she said aloud, her voice small in the vast throne room. “Do you know how to get to Second City from here?”
There was a pause. I do not know this Second City. There was no city called such that I remember.
That makes sense. Arahime lifted her head. Even if she did not know specifically where she was, she knew in general that it was unlikely she was carried across the river. “What about to the river? The great river that lies to the east? Or to the sea to the south, if that is closer?”
There was a warmth in the tone of Big Sister’s thoughts as she answered. Each year at the beginning of summer we would travel the Road of Holy Pilgrims to reach the sea to the south and make salt. The fishing villages to the south are near the mouth of the Narmada river. It is only a few days travel and is an easy road.
The Kakita felt an initial wave of relief. It was too late in the day to start now, but at least she did not have to worry about finding food if she could get to the shore. She had seen small Ivinda fishing villages near Suitengu’s Torch on their journey west. But that left the question of allies, reaching Summer Court unnoticed, and receiving an audience with the Warlord still unresolved. But Big Sister had said…
“Which people would protect me? Would they help me?” Arahime asked the empty air.
Our people. The Ivinda. Of course, you wear a barbarian’s face, growing up in such wild lands. But if it was clear to them that you had been chosen by Lakshmi to bear the navrathran haar, that your desire was to bring prosperity and justice, then they will remember. They would not forget the Apsara so easily. You must convince them. But I may help. Do you wish me to?
To accept help from a mysterious artifact and the woman who seemed to lie within was dangerous, and Arahime was not about to give an unqualified yes. However, no matter how she played the angles out in her mind, she could not see any other prospective allies who would have reason to protect her and take her to the Warlord. “Show me.”
Big Sister offered calm affirmation. First, we must find a proper place to make preparations and sleep. Let us see if one of the Chambers of Bliss remains unsullied.
Following the guidance of the the navrathran haar, Arahime went exploring deeper into the Ivory Palace, lighting a torch to venture into the darkness. Finally she reached a painted wall of rough-cut stone, similar to the stone on either side. But Big Sister pointed out two small holes in the stone. She reached in and each finger found a metal latch. When she pushed both latches at the same time, the stone loosened and she found that it rolled along a hidden track. She pushed it aside and went in.
The chamber had been left almost untouched by the passage of time. Rich, heavy carpets covered the floor instead of tatami mats, and only a few mice had been able to chew at the edges. She lit the lanterns that hung from brackets on the walls and extinguished her torch. A large teak and gold cage filled one corner of the room, though she felt Big Sister’s amusement as she told her it was a bed. Exploring the cabinets in the cage, Arahime found a large, very soft futon that had been stored away in a box made of cedar. After so many months of sleeping on rushes under a coconut fiber blanket, the softness of the futon was heavenly.
A finely painted stand held a basin and pitcher for water, along with a low, padded stool and a large round mirror. Arahime knelt down to look at herself for the first time in many months. Her hair had grown much longer, but the humidity had made it curl as much as her father’s. She was thinner, her skin pale due to the change in her diet and the time that she had been hidden out of the sun as she recovered; all the darkening of her skin from her days aboard the boat was gone. There were red pocks where the biting insects had demanded their share. The clothes she wore, the Ivindi garments, were, miraculously, only stained and not torn from her journey through the jungle. Her gray eyes were tired. It’s a good thing Harun can’t see me like this. He’d be horrified. She smiled to herself, knowing that that was a lie. Harun wouldn’t care about little things like that. She was alive, and that was really what counted.
You will need to look like an Apsara. You have a barbaric beauty about you, Little Sister, but wearing the sari is insufficient. Most will not have seen the navrathran haar to recognize it. You must pierce your ears and nose to show your favored daughter status. You are not a concubine, after all.
Arahime’s eyes widened and she covered her nose with her hands protectively. “My nose?!” she squeaked. As a bushi, of course she’d seen duelists who had suffered far greater injuries to their faces in the cause of serving their lord, and such was a sacrifice that all had been instructed to expect. And she had heard of piercing the ears as courtiers do. But…
Of course. Only the daughters of a true wife are permitted to wear the Nath.
It was a small enough injury, and Arahime had become well versed in purifying her wounds. She had to laugh a little at the idea of marching into Summer Court looking far more gaijin than any rinjin ever had. Once her mother told her the story of a crow that stole the feathers of an eagle to take a message from Shinsei up to Tengoku for him. If a Crow can disguise himself as an Eagle, surely a Crane could disguise herself as a Peacock for a time in order to carry her own message to the Phoenix.
“Very well. What do I do?”
First…we wash. You are filthy, Wild Princess. Let us seek out some water.
Late Spring, 1237 – The Ivory Palace
The sun had climbed even higher in the sky before Arahime stood, still dazed at what had just passed. Had that really happened? But there was no denying it; the satchel, blindfold, and sword lay on the ground beside her in the empty throne room.
“You never told me how to get to Second City from here…” she said aloud.
Nobody answered.
Well. This is a problem.
For a time, she wandered through the great palace, though she did not know what she expected to find there. Overgrown gardens bursting with flowers, empty kitchens with broken dishes and dust, decayed chambers where once a noble court walked, but no trace of the passage of other people, at least not for many years. She returned to the throne room.
Sitting down next to the spot where she had found Shiba Tsukimi amongst the vines, she rested her chin in her hands tiredly. As she had been walking, her problem became more and more apparent to her. She had food for five days. Better than being here with nothing, but not enough that she could afford to stay for long. She could strike out into the jungle to find more, but she knew, better than anyone, how dangerous the jungle could be. Her stamina had been badly damaged by her injury, and she had barely survived before. Still, the Vānara had told her she was not far from the shore and more inhabited lands. She could reach the shore. But what then?
She had been so concerned with surviving and getting to Second City, she had not considered what she would do when she got there, other than dueling Parashi. To her, it didn’t matter before: she figured that she would find out where the politics of Second City stood by speaking to the local Samurai or Heimen and then determine an approach from there. But that was before she had been entrusted with the Celestial Sword of the Phoenix and Shiba’s letters, and that changed everything.
If Zogeku had decided on conflict with the Empire, those items could be held hostage over the Phoenix. Certainly their political leverage was vast. Even a single samurai or rinjin without honor could find great glory in taking them for himself, killing her, and presenting the bequest of Shiba as given to him. It would be a great temptation to any samurai, and as for her….she was already dead. If she were slain to win such glory, no one would ever know. And her recent experiences of rinjin honor found it very wanting.
She would like to think she could defend herself against an attack, but she knew in her heart that, while she might have once, that path was not open to her any more. Any such fight would be to the death, and she had drunk far too deeply from that well not to know that it lingered near. She simply did not have the stamina needed for such an encounter. It would be a great challenge just to defeat Purashi, though one she was determined to do, no matter the cost.
That left remaining hidden until the beginning of Summer Court. She didn’t know the date, exactly, but that could be some time. Even if she went directly to honorable samurai of the Phoenix, the ones to whom the sword belonged, she still could not fulfill Shiba’s will. Shiba had ordered her to present herself and the sword to the Warlord on the first day of Summer Court. The Phoenix would definitely not wish to do so and would take the blade from her. She had to hide from everyone until Summer Court, but still gain entry to the Warlord’s presence on the first day. In Rokugan, she had allies and friends. But here, there was no one but Doji Mushari, who might himself be dead.
Arahime buried her head in her hands, remembering the giant snake and the vast open wilderness that she had been trapped in. She had survived that, but even if she could get past the jungle between her and Second City, a jungle of politics awaited her. And that, she knew, could be just as deadly. I don’t have a single ally. What am I going to do?
You are Apsara, daughter of the Ikshwaku. Of course the people will protect you. The voice in Arahime’s head, which she had dubbed Big Sister, was calm and confident.
Arahime had not tried to actively seek out the knowledge of the navrathran haar. Such gaijin magic carried risks that should not be taken lightly. But Arahime realized that even long-dead princesses might be able to help her, and this was the only tool she had left. “Big Sister?” she said aloud, her voice small in the vast throne room. “Do you know how to get to Second City from here?”
There was a pause. I do not know this Second City. There was no city called such that I remember.
That makes sense. Arahime lifted her head. Even if she did not know specifically where she was, she knew in general that it was unlikely she was carried across the river. “What about to the river? The great river that lies to the east? Or to the sea to the south, if that is closer?”
There was a warmth in the tone of Big Sister’s thoughts as she answered. Each year at the beginning of summer we would travel the Road of Holy Pilgrims to reach the sea to the south and make salt. The fishing villages to the south are near the mouth of the Narmada river. It is only a few days travel and is an easy road.
The Kakita felt an initial wave of relief. It was too late in the day to start now, but at least she did not have to worry about finding food if she could get to the shore. She had seen small Ivinda fishing villages near Suitengu’s Torch on their journey west. But that left the question of allies, reaching Summer Court unnoticed, and receiving an audience with the Warlord still unresolved. But Big Sister had said…
“Which people would protect me? Would they help me?” Arahime asked the empty air.
Our people. The Ivinda. Of course, you wear a barbarian’s face, growing up in such wild lands. But if it was clear to them that you had been chosen by Lakshmi to bear the navrathran haar, that your desire was to bring prosperity and justice, then they will remember. They would not forget the Apsara so easily. You must convince them. But I may help. Do you wish me to?
To accept help from a mysterious artifact and the woman who seemed to lie within was dangerous, and Arahime was not about to give an unqualified yes. However, no matter how she played the angles out in her mind, she could not see any other prospective allies who would have reason to protect her and take her to the Warlord. “Show me.”
Big Sister offered calm affirmation. First, we must find a proper place to make preparations and sleep. Let us see if one of the Chambers of Bliss remains unsullied.
Following the guidance of the the navrathran haar, Arahime went exploring deeper into the Ivory Palace, lighting a torch to venture into the darkness. Finally she reached a painted wall of rough-cut stone, similar to the stone on either side. But Big Sister pointed out two small holes in the stone. She reached in and each finger found a metal latch. When she pushed both latches at the same time, the stone loosened and she found that it rolled along a hidden track. She pushed it aside and went in.
The chamber had been left almost untouched by the passage of time. Rich, heavy carpets covered the floor instead of tatami mats, and only a few mice had been able to chew at the edges. She lit the lanterns that hung from brackets on the walls and extinguished her torch. A large teak and gold cage filled one corner of the room, though she felt Big Sister’s amusement as she told her it was a bed. Exploring the cabinets in the cage, Arahime found a large, very soft futon that had been stored away in a box made of cedar. After so many months of sleeping on rushes under a coconut fiber blanket, the softness of the futon was heavenly.
A finely painted stand held a basin and pitcher for water, along with a low, padded stool and a large round mirror. Arahime knelt down to look at herself for the first time in many months. Her hair had grown much longer, but the humidity had made it curl as much as her father’s. She was thinner, her skin pale due to the change in her diet and the time that she had been hidden out of the sun as she recovered; all the darkening of her skin from her days aboard the boat was gone. There were red pocks where the biting insects had demanded their share. The clothes she wore, the Ivindi garments, were, miraculously, only stained and not torn from her journey through the jungle. Her gray eyes were tired. It’s a good thing Harun can’t see me like this. He’d be horrified. She smiled to herself, knowing that that was a lie. Harun wouldn’t care about little things like that. She was alive, and that was really what counted.
You will need to look like an Apsara. You have a barbaric beauty about you, Little Sister, but wearing the sari is insufficient. Most will not have seen the navrathran haar to recognize it. You must pierce your ears and nose to show your favored daughter status. You are not a concubine, after all.
Arahime’s eyes widened and she covered her nose with her hands protectively. “My nose?!” she squeaked. As a bushi, of course she’d seen duelists who had suffered far greater injuries to their faces in the cause of serving their lord, and such was a sacrifice that all had been instructed to expect. And she had heard of piercing the ears as courtiers do. But…
Of course. Only the daughters of a true wife are permitted to wear the Nath.
It was a small enough injury, and Arahime had become well versed in purifying her wounds. She had to laugh a little at the idea of marching into Summer Court looking far more gaijin than any rinjin ever had. Once her mother told her the story of a crow that stole the feathers of an eagle to take a message from Shinsei up to Tengoku for him. If a Crow can disguise himself as an Eagle, surely a Crane could disguise herself as a Peacock for a time in order to carry her own message to the Phoenix.
“Very well. What do I do?”
First…we wash. You are filthy, Wild Princess. Let us seek out some water.
