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afraid it did make a difference.

He reached the top of the hill and was looking down through the pines at a wide valley. The camp of Yukio’s army filled the valley from end to end. The tents of the samurai, the Chinese and other foreign auxiliaries were scattered, seemingly without pattern, near at hand. Beyond them the Mongol yurts stretched in their regular grey rows. Jebu could make out a few horses grazing in the wooded hills. Eortunately there was enough uncultivated land here in the far north to provide their thousands of horses with room to forage. When they began to move towards the capital, peasants would suffer wherever they went.

He sat down on the hilltop with his back to the camp, facing the distant mountains. His students would wait awhile. He was wearing only his simple grey robe. His fingers went without conscious direction to the pocket inside the robe, the secret place grown so familiar over the years. The Jewel sparkled in the midmorning sun. He composed his mind and held the Jewel up just far enough away from his face to focus on it. His eyes followed the knots and twists of the Tree of Life pattern etched on the crystalline surface, his fingers slowly turning the stone. Soon he was looking through the Jewel at the pattern as it appeared on the other side. The lines swam up to his gaze through the depths of the Jewel, which magnified them and gave them solidity.

He heard the beat of wings descending from the sky above. It was the White Dragon of Muratomo, the beast he had ridden in his initiation vision. He looked up, raised a hand to reach for the dragon. It hovered above him. Its eyes were Yukio’s huge brown eyes. Looking at him sadly, it rose again and at last disappeared into the blue sky. Jebu felt a sad sense of loss.

Slowly, the Jewel reappeared in his gaze. After a time he put it away and stood up, sighing. His foreboding about this expedition was confirmed.

He started down the hill. Today he would teach his students how to kill with any one of thirty-four common objects to be found in any household.

Chapter Two

Taniko and Lord Hidehira’s wife had worked together preparing the dinner, and together they served it to Yukio, Jebu and Hidehira. When not serving, Taniko knelt in a corner beside Hidehira’s wife with her eyes downcast and pretended not to hear the conversation. At first, she told Jebu, she resented being expected to play the role of a woman of the Sacred Islands, submissive and hidden. But now it relaxed her. After the uncertainties of life in China and Mongolia, it was pleasant to know exactly what to do in every situation.

The hall they were in was built of roughhewn logs. The pillars that supported the roof were barbarously carved and painted. Hidehira liked to imagine that his palace rivalled anything in Heian Kyo, but to his visitors’ eyes, it was so different there was really no comparison.

“I never forgot her,” Yukio was telling Lord Hidehira and Jebu. “When I came back here after so many years I was amazed to discover that she was still unmarried. That was my fault, though. Her father had many daughters and it was difficult to find a husband for Mirusu after she had given birth to a wandering stranger’s child.”

“Shame, shame,” said old Hidehira, chuckling and wagging a finger at Yukio. The top of his head was bald. The long white hair that grew from the sides of his head flowed together with his luxuriant white beard and moustache, all of which spread over his chest like a great river fed by its tributaries. He was a dainty eater and kept his beard scrupulously clean. He was eighty-nine years of age.

He was the tenth-generation chieftain of a clan known as the Northern Eujiwara, who had settled here in the land of Oshu hundreds of years earlier, after losing out in a power struggle with the Eujiwara branch that dominated in the capital. Like the Muratomo and the Takashi, the Northern Eujiwara had become landowning samurai. They had been allies of the Muratomo for generations. They took part with them in joint expeditions against the barbarian hairy Ainu who had once held these northern reaches. Eujiwara Hidehira had sheltered Yukio once before, years ago, and it was while staying at Hidehira’s stronghold that Yukio got the idea to go to China.

“Ah,” said Jebu. “You are marrying the girl whose father owns Sun Tzu’s Art of Warfare.”

“Exactly,” said Yukio. He recounted the story to Hidehira, of nights divided between reading the classic on warfare and enjoying the delights of the lovely Mirusu.

“Ah, the energy of the young.” Hidehira laughed as he levered a prawn to his mouth with chopsticks. “Coupling half the night and studying till dawn.”

“You sought the girl out again as soon as you got back here?” said Jebu. “I thought you were only interested in reading the books.”

“Hardly,” said Yukio. “She was an exquisite creature, pale and delicate as moonlight. She has not changed that much since we parted.”

“Her father was a Takashi supporter,” said Jebu. “Didn’t he object?”

“It seems he lost a bit of land in Omi province to Takashi double-dealing. Now he hates them passionately. Also, he feels a son-in-law with twelve thousand troops behind him may have a promising future.”

“Did you learn much from the Chinese book on warfare?” Hidehira asked him.

Yukio smiled and nodded. Taniko thought, it’s too bad his teeth stick out every time he grins, and he grins so often. If it weren’t for those protruding teeth and bulging eyes he’d be a handsome man. Still, his new bride was getting a marvellous man. Almost as marvellous as Jebu.

“I learned that deception is the key to victory in war,” said Yukio. “A principle that was confirmed for me while riding with the Mongols.”

Hidehira waved a hand in dismissal. “That is not the samurai way of fighting.”

“I know,” Yukio said solemnly. “I expect to beat any samurai army sent against me.”

“I do not like your Mongols,” said Hidehira, looking sourly down at the small table on which his food was arranged. It was a feeling, Taniko thought, which would be shared by many people of the Sunrise Land, of high and low station. Yet, Hidehira had so far allowed the Mongols to camp outside his provincial capital, Hiraizumi, had sold them provisions and was adding a detachment of his own considerable army to Yukio’s.

“Our people don’t like any foreigners,” Yukio said with a laugh. “But we had better learn from them. Their way of making war has won them territories so vast, Lord Hidehira, that you might not believe so much land exists on the earth. To travel from one end of the territory ruled by Kublai Khan to the other takes most travellers a year. Of course, he has post riders who can do it in twenty days.”

“Kublai Khan,” said Hidehira. “An absurd name. What are post riders?”

Yukio looked at Jebu, raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Couriers. They ride the fastest horses. All travellers must clear the road for them. They ride from one post to the next, where they change mounts. They continue day and night. Being able to send and receive messages so quickly enables the Great Khan to hold his empire together.”

“I’m glad we have no such thing here,” said Hidehira. “The North em Eujiwara would never have been able to enjoy as much independence as we do if messages could travel with such lightning-like speed.”

“Your isolation is good for you but a problem for me,” said Yukio. “I need so much more information before my army can start to move.”

“All you need to know is that everyone hates Sogamori,” said Hidehira. “He issues whatever orders he pleases. Neither laws nor officials can oppose him. Even my cousin, the proud Eujiwara of Heian Hyo, must kiss the soles of his sandals. Eor a year now, Sogamori’s grandson, Antoku, has reigned as Emperor.”

Taniko remembered a conversation she’d had long ago with Kiyosi, when Sogamori was just planning the marriage of his daughter to Takakura, one of the Imperial princes. Takakura had an older brother whose claim to the throne must have been overruled if Sogamori’s son-in-law, and later his grandson, had become Emperor.

Eull of eager curiosity, she blurted out, “What did Prince Mochihito do when Antoku was made Emperor?”

Hidehira whirled, his hair and beard flying, and stared at Taniko. Out of the corner of her eye Taniko could also see Hidehira’s wife staring at her in shock.

“Did the lady speak?” Hidehira said in a wondering voice.

“Lady Taniko intended no discourtesy, my lord,” Jebu answered. “She has just returned from an embassy of many years at the court of the Mongol Great Khan. At the Great Khan’s court women frequently participate in discussions with men.”

“Barbarous,” said Hidehira, shaking his head.

Pompous old fool, thought Taniko, giving a little snort.

“What about Prince Mochihito?” said Jebu quickly. “Eirst he was passed over in favour of his younger brother. Now he is passed over again for his nephew. Did he protest?”

“There are rumours that he is furious,” said Hidehira. “But he has done nothing in public. It is that way with everyone in these times. Outwardly, all submit to Sogamori and his relatives. Inwardly they hate the Takashi rule.”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” said Yukio. “As my proclamation spreads, there will be a general rising throughout the country.”

“The realm is ripe for it,” said Hidehira. “Every province has a governor appointed by Sogamori who extorts huge taxes and imprisons anyone who fails to pay. The landlords drain the fiefs of all they produce, leaving the farmers nothing to live on. Every Takashi-appointed official abuses his power. Sogamori is once supposed to have said that anyone who is not a Takashi is not a human being. It would be more true to say that anyone who is a Takashi is a tyrant, a murderer and a thief. People are harassed in everything they do. No one is left alone. The Northern Eujiwara have always hated the Takashi. Now everyone hates them. My son Yerubutsu will return shortly from a trading mission to Maizuru, which is not far from the capital. We will have more news from him.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t come here with a Takashi army snapping at his heels,” said Jebu.

“The Takashi are incapable of moving that fast,” said Yukio. “But I would welcome their coming. If they came here I’d show you the art of warfare, Lord Hidehira. The Takashi survivors would never stop running.”

“Hidehira fancies himself a great lord because he has this mountain stronghold where no one bothers him,” said Taniko. “Actually, he’s backward and ignorant.” They were alone and lying together in their little guesthouse in the Eujiwara citadel. Her hands pressed against the hard muscles of Jebu’s chest. “Not even willing to answer a simple question because it was a woman who asked it.”

“Would you prefer to be back among the Mongols?”

In the darkness Jebu was no different from the man she had held in her arms so many years ago on Mount Higashi. His body was as hard and lean, his voice still smooth and quiet, with a trace of hidden power. His Zinja training included so many amatory postures that she believed that since their reunion at Khan Baligh they had never coupled in the same position twice.

“I would prefer that my people make one or two sensible changes in their customs,” said Taniko. “I have spent too much of my life hovering in the background at dinners where my thoughts were far more interesting than most of the male conversation I heard.”

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