The Lord of the Sands of Time Read Free Page B

can do about the blood. He needs rest,” said the Messenger.
    “I have no words to thank you.” Miyo knelt, touching her forehead to the ground. Her eyes brimmed with tears of relief, but in another part of her mind she was beginning to feel uneasy. How would her ministers react to the coming of the Messenger, creator of the Laws? No doubt she would have to perform a divination to determine whether this event was propitious or not. But would tortoise shell or deer bone divination be enough? For an event of such momentous importance, someone might demand a sacrifice divination—the beheading of a condemned prisoner, with the future gleaned in the splash of blood.
    And Miyo would have to preside over the sacrifice. There is no need to go that far , she thought. Miyo wanted to avoid a sacrifice at all costs. The Messenger stood.
    “Tell me, woman. Is this your country? Are you a slave?”
    “No.”
    “An outsider? Do you know anyone living nearby? I need information on local geography and the state of affairs in this country. Do you also call this place Mount Shigi?” asked the Messenger.
    “Shiki. I know no one near here.”
    “You must know the way down the mountain, at least. I need to find a village. Show me the way.”
    “Why?”
    “I came to meet the ruler of this land. He must prepare for war.”
    Miyo looked up at him. The ruler? Did the Messenger say he had come to meet not officials of state but the nominal ruler? If so, there might be a way out—a way to force her ministers accept him. What she needed was to link this strange occurrence with everything she had learned over the years. It just might work. No—she was certain it would. After all, if this were a matter for divination, why had she not foreseen it?
    “Messenger O.” Miyo stood tall and looked straight into his eyes, so as not to be intimidated by his towering presence. “I am no foreigner. When I spoke before, I meant that I am not a slave.”
    “I see. A princess, then?”
    “No. I rule.”
    Miyo wiped her cheeks with care, revealing the tattoo of the shaman. She opened her tunic, exposing one breast, and drew forth the palm-sized bronze mirror. Carried as proof of her identity, this was the first time she had actually used it. She drew herself up, as if pronouncing an oracle, and solemnly spoke the name she had been given by kings and ministers.
    “I am Himiko, Ruler of Wa, Friend of Wei, Queen of the land of Yamatai.”

    They waited until dusk to set out. In the early morning hours they reached the capital of Yamatai, on the plain of Makimuku. They had traveled under the cover of darkness so that no one would see the imposing visitor, but that was not the only reason for the secrecy. The Messenger had to be received at the palace in a fitting manner. It would not do for him to slink inside.
    Miyo’s plan was this: First, she would conduct a divination at her own initiative, proclaim the oracle, and dispatch a party to the mountains. There, as predicted, they would discover the Messenger. Perhaps they would see signs of his power in the mononoké’s dismembered corpse. That way, the ministers would be unable to raise objections to receiving him. All in all, this was far better than telling them she had stumbled on the Messenger during the course of an outing.
    So Miyo did not return directly to the palace but brought the Messenger to kinsmen of Kan on the outskirts of the capital. Kan’s people received their unexpected visitors with astonishment, but when they saw Kan, borne on the Messenger’s back and gravely wounded, they dropped everything to tend him. Miyo watched silently from a corner of the tiny pit-house as Kan’s relatives boiled water, wiped the child clean, ground healing herbs, and applied a poultice to his injuries.
    While they nursed Kan, his father and white-haired grandsire glanced frequently at the visitors. Miyo ignored them, pretending not to notice. But the Messenger—sitting hunched over in the confines of