Yamada Monogatori: The Emperor in Shadow Read online

  YAMADA MONOGATARI:

  THE EMPEROR IN SHADOW

  RICHARD PARKS

  To the Memory of Fritz Leiber

  Copyright © 2016 by Richard Parks.

  Cover art by Alegion.

  Cover design by Sherin Nicole.

  Ebook design by Neil Clarke.

  ISBN: 978-1-60701-481-2 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-1-60701-473-7 (trade paperback)

  PRIME BOOKS

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  CHAPTER ONE

  “Yamada-sama, this is a waste of time.”

  Kenji and I were on our way to the Tsurugaoka Hachimangu Shrine for a festival, albeit Kenji went somewhat reluctantly. Any dealings relating to the Way of the Gods versus the Eight-Fold Path made him uncomfortable, especially considering his position as the abbot of a prominent, although small, local temple. He judged his attendance at a shrine matsuri as inappropriate. I considered his habit of flirting with any woman even remotely open to his advances more unseemly, but I knew Kenji’s piety was real, even if it was his own and no one else’s.

  “A youkai has been reported in the vicinity, and I was asked to investigate. Since I may need your help, I asked you to attend. Are you afraid someone will see you?”

  “I should ask you the same,” he replied dryly. “Great Lord Yamada, wandering through a festival crowd like some unwashed farmer? Besides, Hachimangu is the Minamoto clan shrine. Let them see to its security.”

  “They did. Lord Yoriyoshi was the one who requested I investigate, and it was under his authority I brought you along.”

  “Oh.”

  This fact altered Kenji’s attitude considerably. We were present at the request of the chief of the Seiwa Genji. I hadn’t informed Kenji ahead of time. I expected grumbling—and was not disappointed—but I knew he would come along, and so it proved. I also hadn’t told him I had resolved to investigate the shrine even before Lord Yoriyoshi’s command.

  Unlike Kenji, over the years I had become rather fond of matsuri, and the possible youkai was just a convenient excuse. Assuming, of course, the youkai was only a rumor. If it were real, this would be an entirely different situation. All youkai were monsters, but not all monsters were the same. Some youkai were frightening but harmless, some merely annoying, and some were deadly in the extreme. It was my responsibility to discover the true situation at the shrine and Kenji’s to assist me, however he might feel about frivolous shrine festivals.

  We walked through the crowd. Everyone was wearing their best clothes except for Kenji and me. I was trying to avoid attention, and Kenji wore the robes of a common priest almost out of habit. As it was, he drew more glances than I did, simply by his presence at a shrine festival. He ignored them, but I realized there was another dimension to his discomfort I hadn’t previously considered.

  “So you really are afraid someone will see you. I was merely joking before. You know shrine and temple functions are combined here, as elsewhere. It’s not as if they’ve never seen a priest of your order.”

  Kenji scowled. “Exactly, and it’s a temple to which I feel a certain rivalry, if you will. If one of the shrine or temple priests recognizes me, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  I hid a smile. “We’ll try to avoid them—”

  I stopped, but Kenji already had a ward in his hand. “You felt it, too,” he said.

  “Something . . . ” I wasn’t quite as sensitive as Kenji, but the presence of a youkai did tend to make my skin prickle, and I had learned not to ignore the sensation. “That way, I think.”

  We made our way through the crowd as quickly as we could without knocking anyone down. We crossed the main avenue leading to the shrine, past the bright red torii gate just in time to see what appeared to be a young woman dressed as a shrine dancer disappear into the trees lining the avenue.

  “She’s the one,” Kenji said. “I’m sure of it, but I don’t know what she is.”

  “Then we’d better follow and find out.”

  “You do have your dagger concealed in your sleeve, yes?” Kenji asked.

  “Always.”

  “Good. By the time I know what we’re dealing with, it may be too late to find the right ward. If that happens, I trust you will keep the creature occupied until I find it.”

  “You’d better hope I can do so, if it comes to it,” I said. I kept my voice low, as we were already slipping through the maple trees lining the main approach to the shrine. Soon we were into deeper woods, which had been left untouched by the construction of the shrine less than five years before. While the Hachimangu had its kami in residence, the forest itself was much older and likely to have its own gods, not to mention other residents might not be favorably disposed toward human beings. We went with caution, but the waning moon was a week past full, and its light cast more shadows than it illuminated.

  There was a patch of red less than a bowshot away from us, which I realized was the hakama of the dancer, caught for the briefest moment in the moonlight.

  “This way,” I said, and Kenji fell in behind me.

  “It really would help,” he said, fumbling with a handful of spirit wards, “if I knew what sort of creature we were dealing with before we catch up to her. Are you sure you have no impression of her?”

  “An educated guess only and not to be relied upon. Perhaps you would prefer our quarry to appear before us and humbly introduce herself?”

  “Actually, this would be helpful,” Kenji said. “Since that courtesy is not going to happen, I suggest we keep our voices down and our wits about us.”

  That was reasonable. Until we knew what was waiting for us in the woods around Hachimangu, my casual attitude so far had been more than reckless. I resolved to move more carefully, listening to the sounds of the night around us, and, for a bit, I spoke not at all. Kenji, did the same, but it was not in the priest’s nature to be silent for long; he was the first to break the silence.

  “So, what is your guess?” he whispered. “You never said.”

  “Because I’d rather not. If you or I put too much faith in speculation, it could get us both killed. I would not like that.”

  Kenji sighed. “Fair enough . . . I think we’re getting closer.”

  It wasn’t so much that Kenji and I were making good progress through the trees but rather that our quarry had stopped moving. We emerged into a small clearing and there she stood, her back against an ancient kusunoki fifteen paces around the trunk. It was the largest camphor tree I had ever seen.

  My first glimpse of her was confirmed now. She wore the clothing of a temple dancer and appeared to be about sixteen, but even from across the clearing, no more than thirty paces or so, I could see the darkness in her eyes and understood she was much, much older.

  Kenji glanced at the figure, then again at his wards. “I still don’t—”

  “Put them away, Kenji, unless you want us to risk being cursed. They aren’t needed.”

  Kenji frowned, looking at the girl and the tree. “A kodama?”

  “That was my guess. In this forest, it did seem likely.”

  Kodama were generally harmless, provided you didn’t attack them or try to cut down the tree, which in essence was the kodama itself. There was some debate among scholars as to whether a kodama was merely a spirit of the forest or an actual kami, a forest god. Whatever their true nature, they were powerful but generally minded their own business, except for t
his one who appeared and attended a shrine festival in human form. That was something unusual. I would have spoken to her then, but it was clear she wanted nothing to do with us. In another moment she stepped back, the tree enfolded itself around her, and she was gone.

  “Let’s go to the shrine,” I said, and Kenji fell in behind me.

  “Why do you think she took human form?” Kenji asked.

  “Curiosity, perhaps. Or . . . ”

  Kenji grinned. “Say it.”

  It was my turn to sigh. “Fine. Perhaps she was meeting a human lover. It has been known to happen. But she’s no threat to anyone. Except, perhaps, her paramour, if he treats her badly. If I knew who he was, I would advise him to tread lightly. Or not. One can only make one’s own mistakes in matters of the heart. I know.”

  Kenji scoffed. “And you think I’m a romantic.”

  “No, I think you’re a reprobate priest—pardon me, abbot—who shows far too much interest in the pleasures of this world.”

  Kenji grunted. “Just so. I fear you’re the romantic one, Lord Yamada. In your own strange fashion.”

  Perhaps Kenji had been right about that, once, years ago. Princess Teiko took those notions with her to the grave, and I had not been burdened with them since . . . mostly.

  We emerged into the broad pathway leading up to Hachimangu and were once more on the edge of the shrine festival crowd. Evening was falling now and bright red and yellow paper lanterns hung from posts and the trees scattered through the grounds.

  “Has our obligation to Lord Yoriyoshi been discharged?” Kenji asked.

  “It’s possible there are other youkai about, but it seems more likely the kodama’s presence within the shrine boundaries is responsible for the rumors. It would certainly explain why no one had been harmed. I’ll send word to Yoriyoshi-sama.”

  “Good. Now, if you’ll pardon me, there is a situation I must attend to personally.”

  I smiled. “Who is she?”

  I didn’t need the slight flush creeping up from his cheeks to his badly shaven head to tell me I’d judged correctly.

  “Lord Yamada, really . . . ”

  “It’s not my fault you are so predictable. Yet I will respect the lady’s privacy, even if I sometimes invade yours.”

  Kenji spared me a glance of annoyance. “I live for the day your heart returns to you, Lord Yamada. I promise to gloat for no more than a year, possibly two.” With that he turned into the crowd and was soon out of sight.

  I stood there, leaning against one of the lantern poles as I watched the festival crowd. I had often wondered why the sight, sound, and smells of a shrine festival attracted me so, and in that moment, triggered by something Kenji had said, I began to see a glimmer of an explanation. Festivals were happy events, with men and women and children all out and enjoying themselves. I had known happiness myself. Once with Princess Teiko, and then again when my adopted daughter Mai was married and presented me with my first grandchild. But now Mai and little Akiko were with Mai’s husband at his post as the newly appointed Governor of Tosa, far to the southwest. As for my adopted son Taro, he was leading a delegation to buy horses in Mino and wouldn’t be back for weeks. At once I was both proud of them and yet sad they were not with me, and in Mai’s case likely never would be again. Having not so long ago been reminded of what it was like to have a family, now I was being equally reminded of what it felt like to lose one. Festivals helped me remember what it looked and felt like to be happy.

  Even so, I knew this, while true, was only part of the explanation. I didn’t bother to deny the rest of it.

  “Kenji,” I said aloud, knowing of course he could not hear me, “I’m bored.”

  Only later did it occur to me this was perhaps not the wisest sentiment to express within earshot of the gods at Hachimangu, but by then of course it was too late. The words were no sooner out of my mouth than I recognized an older man hurrying through the crowd. It was Ichiro, my steward. He was in his late fifties and not accustomed to a great deal of physical exertion; it was clear he had been running. It was also very clear he was looking for me; he hurried up as soon as he spotted me by the lantern.

  “L-Lord Yamada,” he said, and that was all for a few moments as he leaned over and tried to catch up to his breath.

  “Ichiro-san, what’s wrong?”

  “You have a visitor, my lord.”

  I frowned. Such a thing would not usually call for such urgency. The last three years had taught me just how often a man with a twenty thousand koku estate could expect visitors. It was often necessary to receive them with all hospitality and play the part of the head of the small but newly prominent Yamada clan, but only now and then were these visitation any more than social calls, and those would be arranged in advance. I trusted Ichiro to know the difference.

  “Who?”

  Ichiro looked unhappy. “A lady and her escort. She wouldn’t give her name.”

  That my visitor wouldn’t give a name wasn’t unusual—most noblewomen were rather protective of their identities outside their most intimate circles, for fear of gossip and scandal. But then a noblewoman would have a serious reason for such a visit in the first place, and especially with someone they presumably did not know.

  “Did she say anything at all?”

  “She asked me to find you. Please forgive me, my lord, but it . . . I can’t quite explain how her presence affected me, only when she asked me to come and find you, it seemed more like a command than a request, and I had the distinct feeling it would be wise to do as she said.”

  Stranger and yet more strange. “Ah. Did she say anything else?”

  “Yes, my lord. She told me to ask if you remembered the moon over Yahiko Temple.”

  One mystery was a mystery no longer. I understood immediately who my visitor was. What I did not understand was why Lady Kuzunoha would travel all the way east from Settsu province to Kamakura to see me. This would not be a trivial excursion, even for one of her abilities.

  “Your instincts serve you well, Ichiro-san. Our visitor is not someone to be trifled with or kept waiting. Lead on.”

  “She did convey the impression of a woman who was used to having her way.”

  “No doubt, though to be precise she’s a fox demon. She only looks like a human woman when she chooses to do so.”

  Ichiro froze between one step and the next, and for a moment I thought he was about to topple over. “Did you say ‘fox demon’?”

  What I said then almost felt like a lie, or perhaps almost the truth, which was pretty close to the same thing. Either way, where Lady Kuzunoha was concerned, our long relationship was not nearly so simple as I made it out to be.

  I almost smiled. “I did. Though do not worry—she’s an old friend.”

  “It is good to see you again,” I said, “whatever the reason might be.”

  “And you, Lord Yamada. As for the reason, I promise to enlighten you—but not just yet.”

  I had not seen Lady Kuzunoha in three years, since the Abe rebellion had been crushed in Mutsu province. I knew her appearance, while real and very handsome, was not her true self. Even so, it was the form she chose to appear in most often in our dealings with each other, and so she looked very familiar to me, for she had not changed in the slightest. We were in the audience hall, now empty save for the two of us. It was all very much against protocol and proper decorum for a noblewoman to be alone in the company of a man not her husband or father, but Lady Kuzunoha insisted and that was the end of it. I asked Ichiro to clear the hall of my retainers, and once they were gone, at a word from Kuzunoha her five rather formidable bushi escort changed into little tongues of fox-fire and then vanished. I had to express my admiration.

  “A remarkable illusion.”

  She smiled then. She had beautiful teeth, but not nearly as impressive as her real ones when she was in her true fox-demon form. I had seen them a few times and counted myself fortunate I had not had them turned against me, though on more than one occasion
it had been a near thing.

  “Illusion has its uses. While, as you understand, I have no need of an escort, a lady who appears as I do would be expected to have such a thing. I’d be far more conspicuous traveling in this form otherwise.”

  “I’m grateful you did so. As regal as your true form is, I think Ichiro would have died of fright.”

  Lady Kuzunoha appeared to give the notion some thought. “I don’t think so,” she said finally. “He’s stronger than he lets others see. I suppose this is why you accepted his service.”

  I grunted. “When I met him, he was a displaced ex-farmer attempting to steal food from one of my storehouses. Under the law I should have executed him, but I made the mistake of speaking with him first, and so I realized he could be more useful to me with his head attached. So. I know you didn’t travel all this way from Shinoda Forest to discuss my household. Nor, pleased as I am to see you again, do I think this strictly a social call.”

  “No,” she said. “I did not and it is not. Yet . . . forgive me, but this is proving more difficult than I expected.”

  While it was Lady Kuzunoha’s gift to appear fully human and move in any human circle she chose, not even excluding the emperor’s court, she normally was far more blunt and direct in her dealings with me than one would expect of a lady so familiar with the fine details of protocol and refinement. Yet her hesitation at stating the reason for her visit worried me. It simply was not like her.

  “Perhaps you should tell me what’s troubling you,” I said.

  “Rather it is I who do not wish to trouble you, but I am on a mission and there are things of importance to discuss. May I start by asking you a question?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Did you know Crown Prince Takahito’s second official wife, Shigeko, was a Fujiwara?”

  I’m not sure what I expected her question to be, but that was not one I’d considered. “Of course I knew. Why do you ask?”

  She ignored the question. “And that another of the crown prince’s consorts, Akiko, is also a Fujiwara?”

  I frowned. “I did know, and once more I must ask: why?”