Brilliance of the Moon Read Free Page A

to hold the Otori off if they do attack.
Personally, I don’t think they will. Arai and his allies will not relinquish Yamagata without a long struggle, and many among the Otori would be reluctant to destroy
this place, which is sacred to the clan. Anyway they will be more concerned
with pursuing you.” He paused and then went on: “You can’t fight a war without
being prepared for sacrifice. Men will die in the battles you fight, and if you
lose, many of them, including you yourself, may be put to death very painfully.
The Otori do not recognize your adoption: They do not know your ancestry; as
far as they are concerned you are an upstart, not one of their class. You
cannot hold back from action because people will die as a result. Even your
farmers know that. Seven of them died today, but those who survived are not
sad. They are celebrating their victory over those who insulted you.”
    “I know that,” I said, glancing at Makoto. His lips were pressed
together tightly, and though his face showed no other expression, I felt his
disapproval. I was aware yet again of my weaknesses as a commander. I was
afraid both Makoto and Kahei, brought up in the warrior tradition, would come
to despise me.
    “We joined you by our own choice, Takeo,” the abbot went on,
“because of our loyalty to Shigeru and because we believe your cause is just.”
    I bowed my head, accepting the rebuke and vowing he would never have
to speak to me in that vein again. “We will leave for Maruyama the day after
tomorrow.”
    “Makoto will go with you,” the abbot said. “As you know, he has
made your cause his own.”
    Makoto’s lips curved slightly as he nodded in agreement.
    Later that night, around the second half of the Hour of the Rat,
when I was about to lie down beside Kaede, I heard voices outside, and a few
moments later Manami called quietly to us to say that a monk had come with a
message from the guardhouse.
    “We have taken a prisoner,” he said when I went to speak to him.
“He was spotted skulking in the bushes beyond the gate. The guards pursued him
and would have killed him on the spot, but he called your name and said he was
your man.”
    “I’ll come and talk to him,” I said, taking up Jato, suspecting
it could only be the outcast Jo-An. Jo-An had seen me at Yamagata when I had
released his brother and other members of the Hidden into death. It was he who
had given me the name of the Anael of Yamagata. Then he had saved my life on my
desperate journey to Terayama in the winter. I had told him I would send for
him in the spring and that he should wait until he heard from me, but he acted
in unpredictable ways, usually in response to what he claimed was the voice of
the Secret God.
    It was a soft, warm night, the air already holding summer’s
humidity. In the cedars an owl was hooting. Jo-An lay on the ground just inside
the gate. He’d been trussed up roughly: His legs were bent under him, his hands
bound behind his back. His face was streaked with dirt and blood, his hair
matted. He was moving his lips very slightly, praying soundlessly. Two monks
were watching him from a careful distance, their faces twisted in contempt.
    I called his name and his eyes opened. I saw relief shine in
them. He tried to scrabble into a kneeling position and fell forward, unable to
save himself with his hands. His face hit the dirt.
    “Untie him,” I said.
    One of the monks said, “He is an outcast. We should not touch
him.”
    “Who tied him up?”
    “We did not realize then,” the other said.
    “You can cleanse yourselves later. This man saved my life. Untie
him.”
    Reluctantly they went to Jo-An, lifted him up, and loosened the
cords that bound him. He crawled forward and prostrated himself at my feet.
    “Sit up, Jo-An,” I said. “Why are you here? I said you were to
come when I sent for you. You were lucky not to be killed, turning up here
without warning, without permission.”
    The last time I’d seen him I’d been