On the Banks of the River of Heaven Read online

  As the Divine Year progressed there were rumblings on the Plain of Heaven that had nothing to do with rain. Twice now the Celestial Ox had to be shooed out of one or another god’s garden, and the last several batches of cloth from Asago-hime’s loom were all of pearlescent white, beautiful beyond reckoning but suitable only for weddings or funerals. Since there were precious few of either in the Heavens, the cloth began to pile up to no good purpose.

  So things stood as the seventh day of the seventh month approached yet again, and as the time grew even closer, one day Otter surfaced to find the Lord of Heaven standing on the banks of the Celestial River, staring across the water. The view was lovely, but he was not smiling.

  Otter knew that this was not the best time to approach, but it was clear enough what was on the Lord of Heaven’s mind, and Otter’s obligation to Kaiboshi would not let him remain silent.

  “Is it my lord’s will that Kaiboshi and Asago-hime be punished yet again? Will you separate them forever this time?”

  The god scowled. “What would you have me do, friend Otter? They neglect their duties yet again, despite their agreement with me, and I must bear both blame and responsibility for this. I may be Lord of Heaven, but I am not the master of my own daughter’s heart.”

  “Isn’t it right that this be so?” Otter asked, curious.

  “Above all else, the Celestial Plain is about order, friend Otter. Love is not orderly. It comes as it will, and it leaves chaos in its wake. It is dangerous.”

  “Does that include your love for your daughter? You do love her, I know.”

  The Lord of Heaven sighed. “A father’s love for his daughter is part of the Celestial Order, but so is her obedience to him. Instead Asago-hime chose Kaiboshi over the man I had chosen for her. To my regret I indulged her in this, and now all the Heavens pay the price of her obstinance to this very day, not just Asago-hime and Kaiboshi.”

  “That is only because the rains have kept them apart for the last three years,” Otter said.

  “And why do you think that is? Or do you believe it a coincidence?”

  “It did seem strangely persistent,” Otter said. “Yet, considering the effects, I had not thought it in your interest to cause it.”

  “Rain is the dominion of the Rain God. And again you see the fruit of my daughter’s whims.”

  “I don’t understand,” Otter said.

  “Asago-hime chose the Celestial Herdsman as her husband. To spare the Rain God’s pride I did not let it be commonly known that he was the man I originally intended for her.”

  Understanding dawned. “Ah, but I rather fancy that he knew. If it is his jealousy that causes him to interfere, why don’t you simply command him to stop?”

  “From making rain? That is what the Rain God does. While it is true that his timing shows a vindictive streak I didn’t know he had, that alone does not violate the tenets of his area of responsibility. I can no more command him to stop the rain than I could punish spring grass for being green. On the other hand, that my daughter’s bargain has turned out poorer than she or my son-in-law hoped is no excuse for not honoring that bargain.”

  Otter bowed low. “Certainly not. Yet you would agree that, if the rains were to hold off for a year or two, the situation might improve without drastic action on anyone’s part?”

  “No doubt, but I think it will rain this year too.”

  “What if it doesn’t? You have no great wish to inflict any further suffering on your daughter. Indeed, such might even be counterproductive.” Otter saw the scowl deepening on the Lord of Heaven’s visage and hastened to add, “Not that I would dare to hint that the Lord of Heaven’s judgment is either unfair or unwarranted. Still, if there was an alternative . . . ?”

  “I have said I will not interfere. What can you do?”

  “Perhaps nothing,” Otter conceded, “but why not give me until the seventh day of the seventh month to find out? Since this situation has been going on for the better part of the last four years, a day or two more would surely do no harm.”

  The Lord of Heaven appeared to consider this. “As you wish,” he said finally. “Until noon on the seventh day of the seventh month, but not a moment longer.” He turned away from the river then and strode back to his palace, leaving Otter behind in the river to ponder how in all the world he could stop the rain when he couldn’t even catch a fish.

  “It is the Rain God’s jealousy that makes him keep Asago-hime and Kaiboshi apart. I know of no cure for this, but it’s possible that, if I were to talk to him, he could be persuaded to see reason,” Otter said.

  This seemed like a perfectly sensible plan to Otter who, despite or because of his playful nature, was himself an eminently sensible creature. He set out at once for the Rain God’s home, which was at the top of a high mountain near the headwaters of the Celestial River. It was there that Otter immediately ran into two problems. The first was that the streams rushing down from the mountaintop into the river below were cascading downward even faster than the Celestial Otter could swim, which was very fast indeed. The second difficulty was that the slopes of the mountain were haunted by the Rain God’s daughters: wild-haired, mischievous sprites who delighted in turning the slopes of the mountain into mud and slippery stones. After Otter’s third failed attempt he wound up belly-flopping nearly a league down the mountainside on an impromptu mud slide to be deposited once more into the Celestial River with the loudest and highest splash that Otter had ever made.

  Now, mudslides were one of Otter’s favorite things and he could not remember a better one than that prepared for him by the Rain God’s daughters, but he realized after that third attempt that, fun as this was, he was not going to be able to reach the Rain God this way. He had to think of another path.

  Otter puzzled for a while, and when the solution came to him, it seemed so simple that he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. He could not reach the Rain God, but the Rain God’s more powerful twin brother was the River God, and he was quite easy to reach . . . at least for an otter.

  The River God in his true form was a great water dragon who lived in a cave near the base of the Rain God’s mountain, where the waters first flowed into the Celestial River. The River God was also of a generally agreeable nature when he wasn’t in flood; perhaps he could be persuaded to intercede with his more moody brother, especially since the Rain God was dependent on the River God for his water in the first place. The main danger was the giant whirlpool in the River God’s cave, but Otter knew a stone path that would let him avoid that.

  “At least,” thought Otter, “there’s no harm in asking.”

  Whatever Otter meant to do, he knew he had to do it soon if there was any chance of repaying his debt to Kaiboshi. Evening was already approaching, and the next day was the seventh day of the seventh month, when once more, the rains would surely come.

  Otter swam quickly against the current and soon came to the place where the waters emerged from the mouth of the River God’s cave to meet the runoff from the Rain God’s mountain, there together to form the of the Celestial River. He dived under the water there and followed the current until he finally surfaced in a large quiet pool.

  There was a distant dull roar that Otter recognized as the maelstrom, and before he dared swim much further, he slipped out of the water at place where a narrow ledge ringed the pool. Every so often along the cave’s wall were rock crystals that glowed like torches, giving weak but adequate light. Otter followed the ledge along the underground river until he came to the place on the far side of the cave where the vast whirlpool churned.

  The maelstrom was even larger now than Otter remembered, reaching from one side of the river to the other. The water that escaped it flowed on toward the cave mouth and out into the river, but Otter knew better than to try to swim anywhere near the thing. The currents there were overwhelmingly strong and unpredictable.

  The ledge here connected with a larger cavern that served as the River God’s palace. Crystallin
e formations grew from floor and ceiling, serving as pillars and creating chambers within the cave. Otter peered into the crystalline palace but saw nothing. He looked around the cave ledge. “Hello? River God? It is I, Otter.”

  A spout of water ejected from the center of the whirlpool, and just before it was about to splash into the stone ledge by Otter’s feet, it transformed from water into what now appeared to be a handsome young man with jet black hair and dark eyes. It was not often that Otter had seen the River God in his human form, and he didn’t recognize him until the man spoke.

  “Hello, friend Otter. What brings you to my palace?”

  Otter, now that he recognized the Lord of the River, bowed low. “I’ve come to ask a favor of you, Divine One.”

  The River God smiled. “Very curious. No offense, but what does Otter require other than the freedom of the river and plenty of fat fish to chase?”

  “Ordinarily, My Lord, nothing at all. I’m here because of an obligation I owe to another.”

  “And who might that be?”

  “The Divine Herdsman. Kaiboshi.”

  “Ah, that one.” The River God stopped smiling. “Ask if you will, but I’m not inclined to do anything to the cowherd’s advantage.”

  Otter blinked. “I am surprised to hear this. Has Kaiboshi offended My Lord in some way?”

  “Offended? Say rather he possesses something that by right belongs to me, though that need not concern you, friend Otter. Just understand this, and do not take it personally if I refuse your request. Now, then—what is it you wanted of me?”

  “To intercede with your brother, the Rain God, so that tomorrow the Bridge of Birds may be formed as the Lord of Heaven decreed.”

  The River God laughed until the cavern rang with the sound of it. Otter merely waited, feeling a bit confused and uncomfortable, until the sound died down enough for him to be heard again. “Clearly I have said something that amuses you, My Lord. May I ask what that is?”

  “Oh, friend Otter,” the River God said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Where do you think my brother acquires the extra water he needs to make so much rain across the Plain of Heaven in the first place? Why do you think this whirlpool practically roars with the volume of water flowing through it?”

  “I supposed he got the water from you, as the river is the only source of water in the Heavens,” Otter admitted. “But I did not know the whirlpool had a part to play in this.”

  “Underneath the whirlpool is a stone channel that forces water from my domain up to the top of my brother’s mountain. I supply it gladly, since he’s making it rain on my behalf. Now do you see why I was laughing? In your innocence you’ve asked me for the one favor in all the Heavens that I cannot and will not grant.”

  “I see, but I do not understand,” Otter said. “How is the suffering of the Divine Herdsman and the Divine Weaver to your advantage? I had not thought you cruel by nature.”

  The River God glared at Otter. “Cruel? Nonsense. I merely seek what is mine by right, as I said.”

  Otter blinked. “You seek guardianship of the Divine Ox?”

  The River God sighed. “The Ox? Oh, Otter. Go back to your fish; these matters are clearly beyond your understanding.”

  “It’s true that I’m an ignorant creature,” Otter said. “But that is not by choice. If you will not grant my request, then at least teach me the reason. If it is not the Ox you covet . . . oh.”

  The River God nodded, smiling. “Now you see. By keeping that lout Kaiboshi and the exquisite Asago-hime apart, I’ve made certain that Kaiboshi’s bargain with the Lord of Heaven will not be kept, and so he will be forced to separate them permanently. And then Asago-hime will be mine, as the Lord of Heaven intended all along. It pains me to cause my beloved any grief, but she will forget her silly infatuation with that oaf in time. I will see to that. Now do you understand?”

  Otter thought that, perhaps, he did understand. Finally.

  “I had intended to repay my debt to Kaiboshi, but not at your expense, My Lord. No doubt you will make a splendid husband, and your plan is a marvel of cunning simplicity. Was it difficult to obtain your brother’s help?”

  The River God stroked his chin thoughtfully. “In truth, it was my brother who knew of my frustrated affection for Asago-hime, and he first broached the idea. He’s always been the clever sort, and as he said, all he needed was my water to make the plan work.”

  “Quite ingenious,” said Otter. “Yet, if your patience is not yet exhausted, may I ask how did you learn that Asago-hime was intended for you? The Lord of Heaven was quite discreet about his choice.”

  “Again I must thank my brother,” the River God said. “He confided this knowledge to me, though how he obtained it himself he could not say. I think he protects his sources.”

  “As surely as he protects your interests,” Otter said, bowing low again. “As you’ve already said, these matters are beyond my own poor brain. I had understood the situation differently. Doubtless I was mistaken.”

  Otter turned to go, but the River God stopped him. “Wait, friend Otter. What do you mean? What were you mistaken about?”

  “I must have misheard the Lord of Heaven this morning. Water in my ears or the like. It is nothing.”

  The River God frowned. “What did he say?”

  “Well, I thought he said that Asago-hime had been intended for your brother, the Rain God. But that is quite impossible, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, of course,” said the River God, and his eyes were glowing.

  “Clearly I was mistaken. Else it would be your brother who really stood to gain if the marriage between Asago-hime and Kaiboshi was dissolved. Is that not right?”

  “Yes. Of course,” the River God said, with just a bit more emphasis. His eyes were still glowing, and the antlers of his true dragon form had sprouted on the River God’s broadening forehead.

  “In which case your clever and cunning brother would have been playing you for a fool, and that notion is ludicrous beyond all reason,” Otter said, backing away slowly.

  “Yes. Of course!!!”

  The River God’s words changed into an incoherent roar of rage, and stones crashed down from the ceiling. In an instant he fully transformed into the mighty River Dragon. Otter was already across the cavern and poised over the entry pool. “Thank you for your teaching, My Lord,” he shouted. “You needn’t see me out. I know the way!”

  With that he plunged back into the water and swam as only an Otter can swim with the current at his back, until he was well away from the cave of the River God and the Rain God’s mountain.

  The seventh day of the seventh month dawned cold and stormy. Lightning flashed across the sky, and the winds howled, as indeed they had for much of the night. Otter found Kaiboshi by the river looking, if anything, more forlorn than the last time Otter had seen him. An occasional cold water spray from the river drenched him, and he didn’t bother seeking shelter.

  “I can stand no more, friend Otter,” Kaiboshi said. “I will cross this river today if I have to wade it.”

  “Being immortal, you won’t drown, but you know as well as I that the terms of your bargain will not allow you to cross, save by the Bridge of Birds. You will be swept from one end of the river to the other and back again.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “Summon the Bridge of Birds, Herdsman,” Otter said. “After all, it is time.”

  Kaiboshi waved an arm at the angry clouds, the flashing lightning. “Against this?”

  “The wind will howl,” Otter said, “but birds are masters of the wind. It will not deter them. Nor are they so high that the lightning will strike them in preference to better targets. Summon the birds. Go visit your wife.”

  “But . . . the rain?”

  “It will storm, but it will not rain, Master Kaiboshi,” Otter said. “Not this day. Note that the darkest clouds and the worst of the lightning surrounds the Rain God’s far mountain. I believe it will stay there.”

  “Yes,
but what does this mean?”

  Otter shrugged. “A family dispute, I believe. It need not concern us. Summon the bridge.”

  Kaiboshi looked doubtful, but he summoned the birds as was his right under the agreement, and they came. First the cranes to form the anchor pillars at each end, then the waterbirds, then the birds of the air and forests, all obeyed and took their assigned places. They threw their songs back in raucous defiance of the heavens, and the bridge held.

  There was an occasional drop of water that might have been blown off the top of the river by the wind, but there was no rain. Slowly, as if unable to believe his good fortune, Kaiboshi crossed the bridge of birds. He started carefully, testing each step as if all was an illusion that might collapse at any moment. Then he moved faster and faster until he practically ran across the roadway of feathers to the opposite side. Freed of their burden, the Bridge of Birds burst asunder and scattered, each to their assigned place on the Plain of Heaven, until the following morning when Kaiboshi would summon them again.

  Otter watched the bridge become birds again and fly away. “All debts settled,” he said happily.

  “I gather the brother gods Rain and River are doing the same even as we speak,” said a new voice. “I think we have you to thank for this, friend Otter.”

  Otter looked up to find the Lord of Heaven scowling down at him. “Well, considering the alternative . . . .” Otter began, but the expression on the Lord of Heaven’s face made him think better of it.

  “My daughter will be pleased,” the Lord of Heaven said, and his scowl lessened somewhat, “and I guess there’s some virtue in that . . . if she knows what’s good for her.”

  “It’s all they wanted,” Otter said simply. “And since I don’t wish to neglect my own duties, I really should get back to chasing those fish . . . ”

  “Stay a moment, friend Otter,” said the Lord of Heaven. “All actions have consequences, and yours can be no different.”

  “I suppose that’s just,” Otter said, and he sighed. “What is my punishment?”