Questing for
Dragons
"Kanzeon Bosatsu, you have a visitor from Down
Below."
"Mh? Who?"
"A umh dragon."
"Ohh-hohh. One of ours?"
"Ahhh--- No."
No indeed. A green-skinned dragon in
all-green robes, like a jade statue given life. Leather baldric about his
chest, curved white claws on the shoulders, and a discourteously broad sword at
his hip. Warrior, the outfit said. Beast-slayer. Not one of you.
Fine, fine. Point taken.
Kanzeon smiled into the flat red eyes. The man bowed briefly from the waist.
"This person is Kinshou, of the
army of the Eastern Ocean, and I bear a letter from the Blue Dragon for the Bosatsu
Kanzeon." He held it out in both hands.
Kanzeon broke the seal and glanced
over the brief message:
Goukou the Blue Dragon, king of the
eastern waters, high king of the dragon tribe, to the Bosatsu Kanzeon, ruler of
the world, symbol of mercy and compassion, greeting. Our thanks for the Bosatsu's
consideration on the recent occasion of our brother Goujun's death. We are most
sensible of the kindness You have shown us.
Very nice. A model of correctness and
courtesy. Not an inkling of a conciliatory attitude towards the kami, should
anyone's spies be looking for one.
Kanzeon raised an eyebrow at Goukou's
emissary. "And?"
The man didn't even blink. "His
Majesty adds this message for the Bosatsu's ears alone. 'If matters stood
otherwise between Heaven and ourselves, we would thank you in person for the
great favour you have done my family. The kings of the Southern and Northern
Oceans add their gratitude to mine. That Goujun has been spared to us is a
blessing unlooked for. My race however is unaccustomed to the process of
reincarnation and we are ignorant of its particulars. It would ease our hearts
if we might be given some knowledge of our brother's current situation.'"
"His situation? He's Down There,
on one of the continents."
"Then his egg has already been
hatched?"
"He's been born, yes."
Blank red eyes looked at hir. Kanzeon
had a good idea what was going on behind them. Wait till he asked the obvious
question? That would be unkind: dragons dislike asking questions, especially
obvious ones. Nothing wrong with unkindness, of course, especially when it
served a purpose. But I can do better than that. Kanzeon smiled.
"Tell
Goukou to relax. Goujun's what he always was, a white dragon. But don't go
looking for him in either of his forms. You really won't recognize him
as he is now."
"So there it is," Goukou
said.
"I see. My thanks, Kinshou-dono.
And to you, ani-ue. You've been most thoughtful of your worthless brother and
his fears. I hope the information didn't cost too highly."
"It cost nothing. Kanzeon Bosatsu
doesn't bargain. Our position with respect to Heaven is exactly as it
was."
"That's good," Gouen
murmured. Goukou looked at him sideways.
"You have some doubts?"
"I... have the doubts I've
always had of Kanzeon Bosatsu. Hir ways are not as our ways and hir thoughts
are not as anyone's."
Goukou shrugged. "Se is a force,
like the winds. One must go with hir as one does with a tempest, for there is
nothing to be gained by battling either."
"That is true."
"So, if your mind is at rest,
will you be returning to your ocean now or can you stay a few days more?"
"I'll gladly stay if you want me
to, but I had some thoughts of paying a visit to our uncle and cousins before I
went home. Seeing them at the funeral made me realize how little we've met
these last years. They're men and fathers now, before I even knew it."
"Too true. Go then, and give my
greetings to our uncle. I can't spare the time to visit myself with the kami so
importunate, but tell him I'd be glad to see him should he have the leisure to
come here."
"I will tell him so." And
I am not lying. I *was* surprised at how Goumin has grown, and how his poetry
has progressed. But that is not why I go to my uncle's house.
Gouen greeted his uncle Goushun
courteously and his cousins in friendship, delivered all the news of his own
family and inquired minutely after that of his uncle. He spent a pleasant
afternoon with his cousins Gouhei and Goumin, drinking tea and making linked
verse. Goushun listened with enjoyment, occasionally putting in a word during
the discussions after. His uncle had a good taste in poetry though he rarely
composed himself; it was he as much as Goushou who had encouraged Gouen's own
first efforts in childhood.
The pleasant afternoon was followed
by an excellent dinner, and afterwards by a relaxed evening of drinking
together and more verse-making. Mellow with wine and poetry, Gouen looked over
to make certain that Goushun was in a similar mood and then said, "Uncle,
there is a matter about which I hoped you might instruct me."
"Happily, if I can. What is
it?"
"I know that your younger
brother resigned his duties and offices and took himself to a hermitage
somewhere here in the eastern sea. The poem he sent us during Third Brother's
mourning period has lingered in my mind, and I have long had the desire to
speak to him myself. What is the way to the Hermit's dwelling?"
"I cannot say," Goushun
replied shortly.
Gouen felt heat in his face.
"Forgive me if I asked what I should not have."
"You didn't. I cannot say
because I do not know. He never told me."
Gouen's face grew hotter and he fell
silent. Too late he was remembering that Goushun's younger brother had quitted
the world just after the death of Goushun's older brother, their father.
Goushun had been abandoned at a stroke by his two closest kin, and it would seem
the living one had done it as finally as the dead.
Goushun was looking down at his wine
cup. In a low voice he quoted the first lines of the Hermit's poem:
Waves on the ocean's face
vanish in an instant.
Salt
spray flies upwards and fades into air.
Gouen answered, changing the second
couplet:
Though gone, I remember
the shape that those waves wore;
Still on my face feel the
salty wet spray.
Goushun looked up then, pondering. At
last he said, "It's possible you might find his dwelling place though
no-one else has. There is that in you that resembles him, though you are so
much your father's son in most ways. Make the search and see what comes of
it."
Gouen flew above the wrinkling blue
waves of the Eastern Ocean. There were islands scattered here and there in the
vast expanse, but Gouen was making for no place in particular. Whether the
Hermit was on sea or on land he didn't know, though the sea must surely be more
likely. He sent his thoughts out, vague and questioning: the Hermit... Uncle...
Gouen Gouerh's son seeks you... and waited for an answer of some kind. But the
miles passed with only the emptiness of blue sea below and blue sky above, and
above that the hot sun sinking now towards the west. A hot place, the Eastern
Ocean, its bright colours those of his childhood and youth, now seeming to
belong to an immensely distant past. His mind began to slip back to the more
familiar thought of home: the cold waters of the Northern Ocean, the swell of
the grey-green waves enormous and moody: silver light filtered through black
clouds, sharp rains lashed by harsh winds, the harsh caw of sea birds. His
mind's eye watched the glassy waves form and unform below him, and about him
blew the keen air of the place he loved above all others.
And as his heart swelled with that sense of love and
belonging he found himself, without surprise, in a corner of his past, flying
above his ocean with Goujun winging a little in front of him. Gouen stilled his
heart lest feeling take the vision away; held his soul's breath and watched the
huge white wings beating against the grey sky with the purpose and energy that
had always meant 'Third Brother' to him. The long neck turned as Goujun glanced
back at him; Goujun's mouth curved in a smile of exhilaration above his white
chin beard. The sight of the vanished face stabbed Gouen to the heart. With a
shock he returned to the present. The bright colours about him ran together
with the tears that filled his eyes, and he spoke his grief aloud.
Above me the black night
of heaven's height;
Below me the blue
waves of the deep sea
The sky goes on
forever, and my spirit flies in bitterness;
Even in dreams I
cannot cross the mountains that divide us.
Something caught his eye below, white
amid the darkening blue waves. He stooped and dove towards it. It was long,
like an eel-- but not an eel. An arm, a manform arm, of some human thing turned
victim to the sea's violence. Carrion. He was about to fly away when he saw the
hand beckoning to him. No, the fingers were moving in the water, that was all.
No. The hand moved, beckoning him. He dropped down from the sky as the
thing began to sink below the water. Without thinking he dove in after. The arm
moved downwards before him and he followed, between intrigue and disgust, down
and down the depths to the ocean's floor. It grew darker and colder and he lost
sight of the whiteness; then brighter and warmer and there it was-- or rather,
there he was. A white dragon in manform. A dragon who could descend through the
waves in his tiny manform body.
Caution tapped at Gouen's spine. This was undragon
magic, and dangerous. This is how death came to my father, in the pursuit of
a white snake. Could this even be one of the same tribe? And worse- might
it be bent on avenging that other one they had slain?
They reached the bottom of the sea. There indeed was
a house, as one would expect of a dragon. It was no palace-- indeed was not
much more than the cottage of a common man. Gouen's wary eye noted that it
could not accommodate many dragons in their natural size. The stranger was
standing by the gateway, waiting for him. Gouen changed form, ready in a moment
to change back if it chanced there were no wards in place to keep him anchored.
But he was as heavy in manform as in his dragon one and he walked steadily
forward to stand a safe distance from the seeming dragon. The man's robes were
all white, which was not unknown; but he wore no headband and his white hair
fell unbound about his shoulders. Gouen eyed him narrowly, trying to get some
feel for his nature, but the disorder of his own heart and his present
suspicions were too loud in his soul.
The man addressed him in verse:
Midway in his journey the traveller goes
astray,
Amid the loud confusion of the storm.
Dark unto death the clouds in the troubled
heavens.
How will you find the straight path to
your home?
Gouen answered:
A storm-cloud I, storm-driven by the
gale
Under the darkness of the mantled
heaven.
The winds blow strong and night
encompasses me.
Unseen, a steady star still guides my
way.
The man inclined his head. "I'm glad to hear it.
But maybe you'd like to rest a little from your journey? My house is at your
disposal if you care to enter."
"Will I not regret it if I do?"
"Why would you?"
"Because I think the shape you wear is not your
own. You are like no dragon I have ever seen, and very like something that
bears much ill-will to my kind."
"It's true I'm not quite as I look, but I have
no ill-will towards you. I heard the sound of your heart as you flew and your
sorrow touched me. Believe me, I and my house intend you no harm."
Gouen was old enough to know that a master of poetry
could still be his life's enemy, but the strange echoes of the man's verse
intrigued him. Doubly on his guard, therefore, against danger without and
carelessness within, he bowed his acquiescence and walked through the gate.
There
were no servants inside the simple room. 'Could this place itself be an
illusion?' Gouen wondered as the man brewed tea and placed the fragrant cup
before him. Gouen waited while his host served himself. The man sat back and
regarded him. Gouen waited still. Unperturbed, the man took a sip, and then
Gouen too drank. He placed his cup on the table and waited to see what the
white dragon had to say.
"You must be looking for something important,
that you send your spirit so wide about the airs of this ocean." Gouen's
skin pricked. Only the highest-ranked kami had ever spoken to him in this
fashion. The man used the plain forms of speech though Gouen was now his guest,
and dispensed with all but the most ordinary flourishes of courtesy. More
oddly, he displayed no reaction to Gouen's own court-tinged language that
showed clearly enough whence he came. Yet there seemed no intention of offence.
It was as if the man just had no notion how well-bred people normally spoke to
each other.
Certainly this is no dragon. Yet whatever he is, I
cannot think him stupid. Had he taken on this guise to entrap me he would feign
better. So, let us play this game out.
"I seek a man I may not be able to find."
"What for?"
"To find a man I may not wish to meet."
The other did not so much as blink, but after a
reflective moment said:
"Seeking a cloud breathed up from the waves'
face
You range the wind's twelve quarters without rest.
Your journey takes you in and out of cloudbanks:
That cloud you seek, seeking you pass it by?"
"So it may happen," Gouen answered,
"for the first man I have not seen since my boyhood and the second is altered
from what he was, and I am told beyond my recognition. But if you are native to
these waters, perhaps you have heard of the Hermit of the Eastern Ocean?"
"I have heard of him," the man said,
"but cannot say where he dwells."
"None can, even the brother he left behind. Thus
I roam the ocean until he chooses to find me."
"I see. And he in turn will know where this
altered friend of yours is?"
"I am hoping he does, for I hear that the winds
tell him all the news of the world. My brother is on one of the continents, and
only the winds have speed and leisure to search those peopled nations."
"Ah, a brother, is it? Yes, the love of brothers
is unsettled as a spring gale; no wonder it tosses you about so."
"You must have a low opinion of it, to speak so
slightingly," Gouen said, keeping his voice mild. "It is different
for us. The love of my brothers is the wall that has sheltered me from the
storm all my life, and when the nearest one to me is gone I feel the wind
strike cold upon my back."
"Mhh," the other answered.
"You follow the black clouds and
tempest rain
Moving
forever above the piled waves.
Why
is your spirit fixed upon a cloud
That
changes even as you watch it move?"
"You sound like the kami of Heaven," Gouen
observed, "who assert that what changes is illusion and should be
disregarded. But we dragons know better. We shift and change as the weather
does, yet we are more lasting than the earth and sky. It is the thing that
cannot change that one must be wary of.
Clouds and black rain fall on the ocean waters,
Start and stop, blow away, but still are 'rain' and 'cloud'.
This self of mine is made of brume and tempest.
What should it love more than a changing
cloud?
"Then why are you reluctant to
meet your brother, now that he's different from before?"
"It's for his sake, not mine,
that I hesitate. He was once a king. Now he is of necessity something meaner
and may be ashamed to be seen. I hoped to find one who might have tidings of
him, that I may know what is best to do."
"Ahh." The man looked away.
"I won't ask how a king came by such ill fortune, but I assume Heaven had
a hand in it somewhere."
To Gouen's mind the bitterness in
those words made his host sound for once like a true dragon. But he reflected
that dragons were not the only ones who suffered when the Jade Emperor took
power and abandoned the old ways. The fox-spirits and badgers were persecuted
by the charms of Buddhist holy men, the demon beasts were driven from their
holdings by Heaven's armies, and the serpents, wise in magic--- Yes indeed, the
serpents held the court in special enmity. Odd, if this were one, to find
himself in sympathy with the race that had slain his father.
"Heaven was indeed involved, for both
ill and good. Have you yourself had experience of their ways?"
"Experience enough. It was they
who first opened my eyes to the truth of the world, not through their preaching
but through their deeds. And so I achieved what they would call enlightenment,
and I suppose it is not dissimilar to theirs. For I too have found that
attachment is the beginning of misery." He fell silent, looking at Gouen
with a considering expression, then said:
Unhappy man, cease now from yearning.
What you see has gone, is gone.
Never more that day returning
When the happy sunlight shone,
When you, and your comrade by you,
Shared the dawning and
the night.
One in heart and blood
and sinew
Bravely coursed the
skies in flight;
One in body and desire
In the silence of your
bed
Slaked anew the age-old
fire,
Followed where the other
led.
That time has gone: seek
not to follow
The thing that would not
bide for long;
Nor live forever sunk in
sorrow
But be as stone, endure, be strong.
No remembrance, no repining
No thought of him who now is gone.
The world is wide past one man's finding
And turns to greet each
new day's sun.
Gouen was silent,
feeling himself split in two and the two halves warring within him. At last he
said, in a voice that sounded too thin even to his own ears, "I have never
heard that metre before. Is it of the continents?"
"No. My own
invention."
He winced. "Then
you are a master of verse and I am not worthy to partner you at all. I
apologize for my clumsy attempts earlier."
The man shook his head.
"Prince, you have both too much sense and too little. There is nothing
clumsy in your verse. If it lacks something to your mind, be assured it's not
technique. But those of high rank live within invisible walls, piled with
invisible chains. There are things you may not do or feel because your position
does not allow you to, and that constriction is going to affect your
poetry."
Gouen clenched his hands
beneath the table. "Perhaps," he said. "But the realm of verse
has always been a place of freedom for me. When I meet a great poet my rank no
longer matters, and I am merely a learner who sits at his master's feet."
"And how often does
that happen? How often do you cease to be the son of a royal house and become
no more than a man, the same as any other, who sees the world as it looks to
any other man?"
"It has happened
now."
"And you are
finding it hard to bear."
"I admit it. But
that is because I cannot agree with your poem, not because I think I am-- in
any way your equal."
"Then answer my poem."
"I cannot,"
Gouen said in bitterness. "Your superiority silences me."
"But you must
answer it or your heart will not be at peace."
"Yes. But still I
cannot. I am ashamed even to make the attempt."
"Then I am your
master and you will learn from me. And what you must learn is to cast down the
walls of custom and break the chains from your soul. It's only when you're free
of them that you will gain what you most desire."
"Easily said. But
how am I to manage it?"
"Easily done. Come
lie below me."
"I do not lie
below," he said automatically. "No, it is not my rank or anything
like that. I am one whose body remains closed and will not relent."
"That too is a
fetter of your soul's. Cast it from you."
"It is not subject
to my will," Gouen replied, nettled. "You should know how it is. My
affliction is not unusual-- many men share it-"
"And all of you are
bound by the chains you've laid on yourselves, in the darkness of your hearts
where you need not see yourself doing it."
"That is not the
way of it! Do you think I would not have had it different? The brother I seek
was the nearest to me- he was my Older, and the stubbornness of my body was
ever a barrier between us. My training was not the joy it should have been- the
service I would have given him was never possible- I could never be as close to
him as I would have been. Do you think that was not a grief to me, and is not
still a grief now he is gone?" He blinked the tears ferociously from his
eyes.
"Poor prince,"
the man said after a moment. "Then perhaps we must try something
else." He got up and went to a cabinet that stood by the wall; unlocked it
with a key that hung from his belt and took out a chest of carved dark wood
which he brought back to the table; unlocked that with a second key and took
out a tiny filigree box of pale red stone, that he cradled carefully in his
hands. "You need three keys for this. Two for what surrounds it and the
third within the box itself. It's the seed of a rare plant from a far ocean and
its property is to open the body, the mind and the soul to things beyond
ordinary imagination." He smiled for the first time and his pale face
changed beyond recognition. Gouen seemed to catch the glimpse of a far-off
land, all green and wonderful, in that look. "I can attest to its powers
from my own experience." The smile went as quickly as it had come, leaving
Gouen strangely short of breath. "But you must let me put it within you,
for only the seed of another's body gives it effect. So what do you say?"
There could be only one answer
to that. "I say yes."
The man took him into
the small bedroom adjoining. Gouen had to undress himself, down to his shirt,
for no servants came and no robes were laid out for him. It didn't matter. It
seemed an age since he'd encountered mystery and adventure like this. Ruling,
fatherhood, their service in Heaven, all had made his life a pattern of the
commonplace, devoid of wonder. His mind still murmured ironically about the
obviousness of the ploy, the romance cobbled together in order to have a chance
at a dragon king's arse. But that was no more than a reflex, an offering to the
bad luck demons to keep them satisfied. In his heart was the image of his host,
dragon-seeming yet so undragonish, with his waving hair and odd speech and
those things past imagining that had shown for that one moment in his face.
Would this magic bring him empty visions
or would he see reality? When his body and soul were opened- If, he told
himself, if,-- would he find-- What would he find? 'What you most
desire.' Third Brother, he thought at once. He'd know where Goujun was, see
him, maybe talk to him again, and know the relief of certainty, even if they
must meet as strangers.
And when he'd seen Goujun again, he
realized, he would be able to answer his host's last poem. Its strange metre
and comfortless words still echoed in his head, demanding a response. To
fashion verse like that, but to counter the deadly sadness of it with fitting
words-- to oppose the sunlight of his own love and devotion to its vision of
indifference and despair- if he could do that it would be worth any price he
had to pay.
And so it was no
hardship to go to his face on the narrow bed and raise his hips, and feel the
cold narrow finger slip inside him. He breathed deeply in and out, waiting for
the pain that must come after. There was an odd smell in his nostrils, from the
bedding perhaps, or from some incense burned here before, still drifting on the
air. Hands on his buttocks, and the first tentative nudging, and his vision
going dark because the light was leaving, how odd, because his eyes were huge
and huger, his lungs were breathing deep and deeper, and a memory of a memory
was trying to grow clearer in his head-- this feeling, this feeling, where had
he known it before? the skies wheeling within his head, his wings working
mightily, another body turning into his own, the Great Dance was it? but when
had he danced in the daylight, when had he danced as a female filled with--
filled with-- the thing that made his heart soar and every muscle in him swell
and his neck arch to scream triumphantly to the four corners of the world--
A voice said- his voice
said- a voice inside him but yet not his voice said-
Fleet in the waving forest
Dark in the
cold valleys
Sight of the
hunted flits and is gone.
Bright the
glimpsed vision,
Flickering,
beckoning,
All that one
might desire
Wrapped in
one form
and then that poem became all the world about him. He was in a dark
underwater forest, in manform, yet he was able to move easily through the great
clumps of seaweed that waved somewhere above him. A white form flitted in the
gloom up ahead. I must follow you again? he wondered, even as he paced
to keep sight of it. The wind blew one sidelock into his eyes, and he pushed it
back--- The wind? There is no wind beneath the waves-- He took breath
and realized he was on land, under trees somewhere- under many trees, in what
Under Heaven called a woods. He felt the crawling unease that land forests
always gave him, cut off from the sky by things that would not bend to his
passage as waterweeds did, should he try to fly upwards.
Then he understood. Goujun was on one of
the continents. He was being led to where his brother was.
His heart gave a bound
of joy, and he pressed on with a good will. The flitting white thing came and
went in his vision. It was no longer the dragon; indeed it looked to be the
white arm he'd first seen in the ocean. He smiled a little. White stranger,
I happily admit your power, but your taste is best not spoken of. And at
that the white form disappeared entirely. In alarm Gouen broke into a run. The
trees ended all of a sudden and he was in an opening under a full moon. He
looked about him with a pounding heart. There was a small campfire before him,
with baggage and some wagon-like thing beside it, but the white arm was nowhere
to be seen.
"What do you
want?" a voice said, light-toned but authoritative. He whirled and found
himself facing a kami, short and soft-featured as they all were. In the same moment
he saw the mortal light that shone in its soul. A human, then. Only... Gouen
blinked. The man's aura was wrong for a human. Gouen looked in puzzlement at
the thin unremarkable body, wondering what his senses were telling him. The man
had his hands up in an odd position, as if cradling an invisible ball. His
right eye was obscured, seeming to reflect light rather than take it in, but
the other blinked at him in growing surprise.
"You're not-- a youkai. Are
you?" the reedy voice said.
Gouen's eyebrows rose. "No."
"Oh." A polite smile as his arms
relaxed to his sides. Gouen had a moment's disorienting déjà vu, a
conviction that all this had happened somewhere before. In growing confusion he
ran his eyes back down the stooped-shouldered body, to the feet in their worn
leather shoes, and froze. The man's shadow showed black behind him, caught in
the sun of some other time but perfectly clear to Gouen's eye. It was tall,
taller than the man was, and broad-shouldered, and sharp curving ears stood out
on either side of its head. Gouen looked to the one shadow hand that showed.
Talons, yes, a dragon's claws.
"You-" he said, voice
strangling with shock.
"Oh yes," the man said, an odd
edge in his voice. "*I* am."
His mouth was dry. "Are what?"
"A youkai."
What? Gouen looked at the shadow again. No horns. Not a
dragon. A youkai. Relief made him weak. This wasn't Third Brother. Naturally.
The Bosatsu had said Goujun was a dragon. Hadn't se? Suddenly Gouen couldn't be
sure. Had se said it or had he only hoped se would? Se had said- se had said-
he heard Kinshou's voice: 'I asked the Bosatsu if Lord Goujun's egg had been
hatched. Se said 'He has already been born.''
His breath caught in his chest. The one
detail that had slipped past them. Not delivered, not hatched. Born. Born as
this youkai that Limited into the shape of a man? 'Don't go looking for him
in either of his forms. You *really* won't recognize him...' Oh yes, and se
would have smiled as se said it.
The air shimmered in his sight. Anger,
smouldering in his soul, wanting to burst out in gouts of flame. He held it in.
Se *did* say he was a dragon, a white dragon. There must be a mistake.
The man's voice reached him. "Is
something the matter?" Gouen dragged his attention outwards. The man's
tone and his look was calm, remotely concerned, not in the least afraid. He was
as unmoved as Third Brother would be at finding a wild-eyed stranger suddenly
appearing in front of him.
"I do not know," he stammered,
mind split between his dilemma and the man before him. "Who are you?"
"Cho Hakkai. And who are you? Or
should I say, what?"
The name meant nothing. How could it? And
the tone-- Was that his brother recognizing him by some unknown instinct and
speaking as his Older might do? Or was it the arrogance of a youkai,
unknowingly aping the ways of the dragon kin it no longer remembered it had?
"If you don't know that," he
said carefully, "there's no need my telling you."
"Oh, but I think there is." The
cheerful smile and unmoving gaze, so at odds with each other. "Because
there are other dangerous things in the world beside youkai and, you know, you
might be one of them, yes?"
The steadiness of the tone, the steadiness
of the spirit beneath it, the mild edged amusement in the eyes. Gouen
was in a moment of his past--
"...wasting our time in Heaven's
service!"
"We don't waste it."
"Third brother?"
"None of us wants to be here but here
we are. We'll make use of the fact."
"For *what*? What can a civilized man
*do* in a place like this?"
"Learn. Find out how these kami think
and what they feel, see with our own eyes what they're really like. Where are
their loyalties? What are the strong and weak points in their system? What
might those mean if the cycle turns again?" The sideways smile, the mild
edged amusement in his eyes. "You're a warrior as well as a king, Gouen.
Be a warrior in the service of these kami, so that the king may know what to do
when the time comes."
He blinked. Goujun's face with its small
smile melted into the smiling face before his eyes.
Suspicion went to horrible certainty.
Kanzeon had lied. Lied like a kami- lied as the Emperor had lied to their
grandfather, and spat on their trust as the King of Heaven had spat on their
ancestor's.
The flames of anger roared before his
eyes. Betrayed! they bellowed. Betrayed again. Heaven has done *this*
to my brother. Not just betrayal but humiliation. My grandfather is at
least a great mountain that blocks the sun above the imperial city, but my
brother has been made one of the common youkai of earth, dung-born as the
legends say.
The wrongness was too great. It had to be
ended. A moment of clarity, sharp-edged as a dagger, showed him what he had to
do.
"Third Brother," he said,
"forgive me. I do this to free you from the injury and insult of
Heaven." He drew his sword and raised it for the stroke--
--and from nowhere a white fierceness
attacked him. Wings batted his face and struck his arm that went numb with the
force of the blow. His sword fell to the ground. He leaped backwards, raising
his useless right arm in protection as he made to retrieve his weapon with the
other--
--saw enraged red eyes and white feathery
neck, saw the white wings raised to strike again, saw the fangs in the open
mouth that cried Mine he is mine you do not touch him!
Gouen's knees hit the ground even as his
head whirled. I am not seeing rightly- he is leagues away, so small, how can
I hear him so clearly--- The youkai had come running up, crying
'Hakuryuu!'-- they were standing together, and his brother was tiny, a
fraction of the man's size, he whose wingspan could cause gales to blow. So
small- so *small*-- disoriented, unbelieving, Gouen could only stare into
the enraged eyes that no longer knew him-- that saw him only as an interloper
in its domain.
Submit, the high-pitched voice said. Dumb with emotions
that had no name he bent and put his forehead to the ground. Above him he heard
the shrill cry of triumph. And that was the last he knew.
He woke, though he hadn't been asleep, and
saw above him his own face. It wasn't his own face- longer in the jaw than
himself, the mouth different- and it wore no hairband of any colour. He sat up
and looked at the black dragon across from him.
"Uncle."
"Gouen."
"I see you left the ways of
dragonkind behind when you abandoned your kin." It was a slap to the face:
no decent man talked thus to one of his father's generation. But it was the
simple ugly truth, a part of the shameful ugly world, so he did.
"Not entirely." His uncle
dropped something between them. A white piece of paper folded in half and cut
in the shape of a manform dragon, tiny horns showing above the spiky hair.
Gouen regarded it a long moment. "So
this is what you use for servants. The one you sent to Third Brother's funeral,
was he another?"
"That was one of my disciples. I have
disciples," he said to Gouen's look. "I left my family and the state
of a prince but not the ordinary pleasures of life. And that is how I count the
bodies of young men."
"How fortunate that I am not a young
man. I might have found myself coupling with my father's brother."
"You're angry," his uncle
observed.
"Am I to rejoice at being made a fool
of?"
"I don't recall anyone making a fool
of you. If you feel a fool it might be your own doing."
Gouen's eyesight went red. "Take
care. Once you leave the ways of dragonkind you lose their protection too. It
is the king of the Northern Ocean you mock, and I do not take it kindly."
"I do not mock you. Why do you think
I do?"
"And still you do it! You concealed
the truth from me and laughed that I did not see through your deception. You
tempted me to an act that would be shameful with a stranger, let alone a
kinsman and a king, and now you say it is my own fault that I feel betrayed.
What do you call that?"
"Not mockery. I dealt with you fairly
and gave you the thing you wanted. Why then are you angry?"
"You lied to me!!"
His uncle shrugged. "I met you as a
stranger because we *are* strangers. I wished to see what kind of man you are
without the habits of custom that kinship carries. And I did. The white dragon you
first met, you doubted was a dragon. You had every reason for caution, but once
we began making verse you relaxed your guard; once you started worrying about
your poetry you forgot it entirely; and thus you became naked to one who could
have been your life's enemy. Don't complain if the result isn't to your liking.
It could have been much worse."
Gouen chewed on that for a while.
"Father?"
"Yes."
"But Father-- it wasn't carelessness
that led to his death--"
"Do you know how he died?"
"As much as you do," Gouen said
impatiently. "He went hunting and was slain by a white serpent--" His
uncle's face stopped him. "Are you saying that wasn't what happened?"
"How did he come to be slain by a
serpent, he who was the greatest in arms and strength of our whole tribe?"
"The cunning of the snake is well
known--"
"To him as well."
"We know that. He was beguiled
or ensorcelled somehow, but none was there to see it done--"
"I was."
"What??"
"I was meditating and found myself
with him when he met his enemy."
Gouen's heart stopped. "You saw
it--?"
"As clearly as I see you now."
"Why didn't you say something?! My
uncle- my brother- they've troubled themselves for years how it might have
happened. And you never told them!"
"No."
"Then you will tell me now. What
magic did the serpent use on him?"
"What makes you think he used
magic?"
"Cunning then," he said
impatiently, "or drugs, or the enticements of the flesh--" His uncle
was shaking his head. "He must have!" Goujun insisted. "How else
could my father have been slain?"
"How did Goujun come to die?"
Gouen checked. "He was
betrayed." His uncle played games. Maybe the only way to get an answer
from him was to be as sideways as he. "In Heaven they scorn to do their
own slaying, so they have servants to do it for them. This one was ordered by
its master to kill Third Brother and it obeyed before the order was scarce out
of the man's mouth."
"Alas that Goujun was without his
sword."
"He wasn't--"
"Alas that Goujun thought he could
not be killed because he was in Heaven, though there is nothing about Heaven
that stops a man from being killed there."
"There is Heaven's law. Goujun
trusted in that--"
"Exactly."
Gouen's heart hammered. "You mean
Father too was over-confident?"
"Overconfident- unthinking- deluded.
Whatever you want to call a man who believes the world conforms to his notions
of it and not the other way round. What is, is. The universe is not your
father's 'what I will it to be' nor your brother's 'what it should be' or even
your own 'how interesting if it was'."
There was a long silence. "I have
nothing to say to that." He stood up. "I have been lessoned and
rebuked and I will be more careful in future. Had you still the right to take
an uncle's part with me I would thank you for this correction. As it is, I take
my leave."
He picked up his clothes and walked, naked
as he was, through the door and out of the house, and no one called him back.
It was a long flight to the northern ocean.
Gouen travelled straight through the night until well into the morning, not
pausing for rest. His attendants flocked about him at his arrival. He ordered a
bath and the services of his masseur, and lay long under the man's
ministrations, eyes fixed on nothing.
"Forgive me, my lord," his
masseur said in distress. "Your servant's best efforts seem unable to ease
the tightness of your Majesty's sinews. Your servant begs pardon for his
incompetence--"
"No matter," Gouen said.
"My trouble is not one to be solved by your hands. You have leave."
He sat up and his steward wrapped the chamber robe about him again. Gouen
remained unmoving, hands curled on his thighs. His feelings roiled within him,
muddy and unclear but stinking like a poisoned river. "Send for
Tsuuran."
Tsuuran, arriving, took one look at his
lord's face and allowed the servants to disrobe him in silence. He knelt and
put his forehead to the ground, as one who asks pardon. A little of the
tightness eased in Gouen's chest.
"You need not ask forgiveness. You
are not at fault, though it is you who must bear my anger. Lie down and let me
hear your tears, for that alone will bring my heart relief."
"Your servant is honoured to give
ease to his lord." Tsuuran climbed onto the bed and raised his hips without
prompting.
Gouen entered him roughly, rejoicing at
the gasp he drew forth. He rode the slender body hard, listening to the grunts
of pain beneath him, and thought of those he hated. His cold unnatural uncle
who'd played with him and called it a kindness; twisted Kanzeon who'd played
with them all and called it the same; the youkai that Goujun had chosen against
himself; himself most of all, for being deceived by all of these. He called
back the rage he'd known in his vision, hoping to find his misery again
consumed by that fire. But it didn't happen. The happiness about his root, the
warmth beneath his hands, the familiar smell of Tsuuran in his nostrils: these
things were too close and familiar. The red anger damped and died in the face
of them. However much his heart wanted to give pain his body would move only
for pleasure. He found himself working more slowly and carefully, heard
Tsuuran's painful breaths turn to a sweet keening, and so eventually reached
some form of release.
His body emptied itself in a long wave,
and at once despair rushed in to take its place. He lay in the darkness of his
heart, muddy with humiliation and self-loathing, and felt sorrow weigh on him
like a stone coffin lid. Third Brother. Third Brother. There is no help for
either of us in this world. I must endure my knowledge as you must endure your
present fate, and hope that some day all will be over.
Tsuuran started to get up to fetch the
washing cloths. Gouen put out a hand to stop him, afraid to be alone even for a
moment. Tsuuran's robe had shifted aside: Gouen noted with half an eye that
their previous copulation had left him emerged. His mind was blank as a
moonless night. He motioned Tsuuran to his back, threw a leg across his torso
and lowered himself onto his root. He prayed that it would hurt him as it had
always hurt before, in the last small hope that everything he'd known in his
uncle's house was a dream. But it didn't. He slid easily down Tsuuran's length
and the feeling was like nothing he'd ever experienced. The spell had worked
and he was changed for good.
That struck his heart like the final pain.
He wanted to cry out in sorrow-- but it was Tsuuran who cried out, muffling the
noise with desperate hands. Gouen gave him a startled glance. Carefully,
experimentally, he raised himself and descended again, grasping Tsuuran's
shoulders for balance. Tsuuran's arms were flung across his face and over his
mouth, but his chest echoed with weeping moans. How strange. Tsuuran was always
discreet and contained in his pleasure, almost to coldness. Gouen rode him,
finding the position taxing to his long legs, but still-- it didn't hurt,
amazingly it didn't hurt, and the effect on Tsuuran was...
He pulled Tsuuran's arm away, the better
to see his face. It was twisted with some emotion, eyes gone great and staring
into his. Tsuuran turned his head to the side, to flee the reach of Gouen's
eyes; and in the same moment his hips bucked beneath Gouen's weight and he
reached his release. Gouen slid off and laid himself down by Tsuuran's side.
The silver body vibrated imperceptibly beneath him, like a bell when the stroke
begins to fade. The aftermath of pleasure? But Tsuuran's face was still turned
from him and Gouen realized what it was. Tsuuran was weeping inside, without
sound and without tears.
"Tsuuran- dear friend--" he
began in consternation. Tsuuran's body jerked convulsively. In real fear Gouen
threw his arms about him and held him close. "Dear friend, I have hurt you
more than you could bear. Truly that was not my wish--" Tsuuran shook his
head, face still invisible.
"No, my lord. No." He loosed a
shaking breath. "It is no such matter--"
"Then what is it?"
"My lord-- my lord is too gracious to
his servant. I have done nothing to deserve the favour my lord shows me, at
s-such cost to himself--" Tsuuran bit his lip to stop himself from sobbing
aloud.
"Cost? I have done noth--" His
slow brain caught up with him. "Oh. Oh, that." He drew a deep breath.
"No, that was no cost to me." He shrank from speaking of it, but to
reassure his servant-- "Something has happened and things have changed...
things have changed with me past believing-- but I have no desire to discuss
that, now or ever. Take it only that..." His heart closed in misery-
"I am become as any other man."
Tsuuran turned at last to look at him. He
asked no questions, did not so much as change expression, and Gouen was
bitterly glad that of all his favourites it was Tsuuran he'd called for.
"That is not so." Tsuuran's
voice still sounded rough. "My lord is not as any other man."
"It does my heart no good to hear you
flatter me."
"When I am summoned for a whipping I
do not expect to be caressed. When my lord says he is angry I do not expect him
to be kind. Such is not the way of the world. Yet my lord put aside his anger
and his perturbation of soul to be gracious to me, and so I will make bold to
say that he is different from other men."
"You think you know the way of the
world?"
"I see what usually happens, lord, as
does any man. When it differs I am grateful if it is good, or resigned if it is
evil. What else may one do?"
In silence Gouen turned to his other side.
'Resigned?' he thought. Maybe I can be resigned to what was done to my body,
for I did indeed consent to it, deceived though I was. But what was done to my
brother's-- no. His heart panged. I cannot accept *that*- Third Brother
bereft of majesty and power, turned into a youkai's pet and watchdog. That is
wrong: that should not be: and I cannot even speak that wrong aloud lest his
shame be known and my older brothers grieved.
No, that wasn't true. There was one person
he could speak it to, and rightly. It may change nothing- no, it will change
nothing- but still I will tell hir that I know the wrong se did us.
Aloud he said, "I must find a way to
get to Heaven."
"Heaven? That will require his
Majesty's permission."
"And I have no confidence that I will
get it, but still it must be done. There is a matter there that cannot
rest."
"Say as much to his Majesty--"
"I will not. He would ask what it is and
I have no wish to tell him. I must persuade him some other way."
"Perhaps I speak out of turn, and if so
forgive me. But it seems to me that my lord now has one means of winning his
Majesty's favour if he wishes to use it."
Gouen blinked. "Yes," he said,
countering his automatic instinct to denial. "Yes, I suppose I do. And I
think it would even make his Majesty happy. He wishes- he wishes me to take
Third Brother's place while he is gone--" and at that his eyes filled with
tears, taking him utterly by surprise. He blinked them away but they would not
stop. Like spring rain they kept coming, until they turned into a flood that
whirled his soul away. Tsuuran pressed closer behind him, like an anchoring
rock. Tsuuran's hands stroked his back, and evidently with more skill than the
masseur possessed, for the heavy pain seemed to ease at last from his cramped
shoulders.
"Ohh," he sighed, mopping his
eyes with a wet hand. "I am not the man I once was. I am a black dragon,
one with the clouds and rain, and I used to revel in change. But since Third
Brother's death I fear it. I cling to the past that has gone and so am become
this miserable creature you see here."
"There is change and change,"
Tsuuran's somber voice said. "The change from winter to spring is slow and
gentle, and it happens again and again. But the sudden change from what always
was to something different is like a storm breaking. It may clear the air and
bring refreshment after, but it is violent and disconcerting when it
happens."
"Ahh." Gouen contemplated
Tsuuran's words. "I thought you enjoyed what we did just now."
"I did. I do not mourn that my lord
takes his pleasure with me in a new way."
"What troubles you then?"
Tsuuran was silent, while some obscure
struggle happened in the far reaches of his soul. At last he said, "It is
a thing that I would otherwise have kept from my lord for both our sakes. When
I entered my lord's service, my father gave me this counsel: 'You are the
King's man from this day onwards and all that you are belongs to him. Your body
is his: do not grudge whatever he is pleased to ask of it. Your wit and skill
are his: use them to your utmost in the tasks he assigns to you, whether he
sends you on an embassy or sets you to washing the pots in his kitchen. Any
service done for the King is an honour. Body and soul, hands and wit, all of
you is for the king. Except one thing. Keep your heart for yourself and do not
let it incline to your master. You cannot serve the king as you should if you
love the man.' And that counsel I have lived by until this day, but now my
lord's graciousness has made it impossible for me to keep to."
Gouen found himself smiling. "Why,
will you find it harder to serve me from love than from duty?"
Tsuuran sounded rueful. "Will I not?
For my service must ever be tainted by hope now, and become less impeccable
thereby."
"I do not count that a loss,"
Gouen said. "I have sometimes wondered what fault there was in me that you
did not love me as others do, and what virtue your own favourites possessed that
I do not, and could only conclude that you are one who finds his best pleasure
in lying above."
"Have I truly been so clumsy?"
Tsuuran sounded stricken. "My lord is skilled enough to bring me pleasure
in whatever he does, and I have never had any complaints about lying below. And
now-" there was still a note of regret in Tsuuran's voice "-I will be
happy to do what my lord pleases because it lets me be near him and not for the
sake of the service itself."
"I think you will not find the change
so bitter as you fear." The first contentment he'd known in days filled
Gouen's heart. "Tell me, how great is your love of me?"
Tsuuran half-turned away. The question was
clearly as little to his liking as Gouen had expected it to be. "My lord
knows that I am not a man of words. Let him command me and I will show him by
my deeds."
"Dear friend," Gouen said again,
and felt with delight the little start of happiness that Tsuuran could not
suppress, "this is not a time to speak of commands. I have no desire to
push you beyond what is pleasant for you. But to be plain, if I am... let us be
vulgar and say, to seduce my ani-ue as you suggest, I shall need some practice,
for my training was naturally curtailed in those areas. So- is your love great
enough to provide it? for you must see, there is no one else I may ask."
Tsuuran looked back. One of his rare small
smiles touched his face.
"I am happy to serve my lord in all
things."
Taking only two retainers, Gouen flew to
the Eastern Ocean. There he found his second brother also paying an impromptu
visit. This was unlooked for, but all to the good. It will save me telling
the tale twice, and this may go more easily with Second Brother here.
He knelt at Goukou's feet and put the High
King's hands to his forehead.
"Ani-ue, grant me permission to visit
Heaven. There is a thing I must do there."
Goukou frowned. "We have cut our ties
with Heaven. How then can you go crawling back as though it still had a claim
on us? Send a messenger if the business is so important, but you may not go
yourself."
"I must go myself, whatever the
cost."
"I just said no."
Gouen held Goukou's hand tighter. "I
will resign all rights to my kingdom, both for myself and all my generations,
and leave the throne to you to bestow where you please. If you wish I will
commend my sons to your kindness and give up my life for having crossed your
will; but I must go to Heaven to speak with the Bosatsu."
"You are making me angry. You speak
idly, or worse, with craft, knowing I cannot suffer the loss of another brother.
What is so great a matter that you must speak to Kanzeon directly about
it?"
"It lies too heavy on my tongue to
tell." He took a deep breath and looked up. "Take me to your bed, and
Second Brother with us, and maybe then I will find the freedom to speak
it."
Goukou frowned in surprise. After a minute
he said, "Come then."
They went to Goukou's chamber and
disrobed. Gouen was aware of a small tension in his gut. He'd never partnered
with Goukou in any but the simplest hand and mouth forms, such as a man uses
with an extreme junior. The thought of doing more still brought a dragging
reluctance with it. He forced it from him. It was Goukou's wish that he act as
younger to his oldest brothers, and it was in his own interest. Therefore...
He saw to his oldest brother's arousal,
then took a deep breath. "Ani-ue, will you permit your foolish younger
brother to request a form?
"Certainly."
"Then let us perform the Drum Bridge,
and I will take the middle role."
"There's no need to go so far,"
Goukou said at once. "I am not angry and have no intention of punishing
you."
"You will not. Come above me and see
how matters have altered with your brother."
Goukou and Goushou exchanged puzzled
glances.
"What is this, Gouen?" Goushou
asked. "Surely you haven't been in the skies again?"
"No. Beneath the sea."
"And?"
"And you will see what I found
there."
Goukou was looking at him narrowly.
"Is this truly advisable?"
"Yes," he said, "truly,"
and put the ring of certainty into his voice.
Goushou still seemed unsatisfied but
Goukou said, "Very well." So they arranged themselves: Goushou seated
on the bed with Gouen arched above him, and Goukou behind Gouen. The smell of
Goushou's skin was reassuringly familiar amid all this newness. Which was as
well, because Goukou's hands cupping his buttocks made his heart lurch wildly. This
is wrong, his mind insisted. My ani-ue is as a father to me--
Quickly he put his mouth about Goushou's
root and concentrated on that to keep his mind from what was happening
elsewhere.
"Prepare yourself," Goukou's
voice said. "I'm coming in."
No! said all of Gouen's reflexes. He yanked his
attention to the front of his mind: 'glow-worm crawls': flatten the tongue
and draw it up the lower edge of the shaft, 'petals curling': close it at the
top, 'day's eye': bring the point in a left hand circle about-- about--
And then his mind wouldn't work any more.
Hugeness was coming into him, greater than himself, like nothing he'd known
ever: his head felt as if it was opening up, peeled open like a tangerine, and
he saw the great blue vastnesses of the sky there, no end to them, felt the
strong winds blowing upon his wings and the knowledge of freedom, knew again
what it was to be out of his tiny self and once again the lord of all the
domains--
Panic like a lightning bolt jolted through
him and was gone. Dazed, split in two, he had no time to wonder what peril his
soul sensed. The skies called to him and the winds sucked at his soul, pulling
him out of himself. Instinct alone made him throw his arms about the body
before him and cling. He closed his eyes tight, tight, so as not to see the
blue caverns about him; his face sought the hot darkness and the smell of
familiar flesh and the thin line of memory it carried, memory of-- memory of--
So hard to keep the memories of earth when that endless freedom was trying to
fill his head--
"Gouen." A voice in his ear, like
a strong woven cable. He took his mouth away and answered.
"Second brother." That was easier.
"Second brother, hold me--" Strong arms closed about his head and
neck and Goushou's concerned voice said: "This is too much for you--"
"No," he answered,
"no--" It couldn't be too much. Open as he was now to his oldest
brother's body and majesty, so was he open to the language of the skies. There
was something there he needed to know, if he could only see it rightly-- if he
didn't lose himself there as he had before, up where immense unvoiced feelings
boomed on the wind and echoed in the pulse of his blood. His second brother was
here to anchor him to the earth, so he opened his eyes and tried to see that
world as himself, as Gouen, king of the Northern Ocean.
For an endless time the skies pounded
about him as his heart pounded in his chest and the largeness inside him
pounded at his vitals. It seemed he would shiver apart with it, but Goushou's
arms held him together until it was over. He felt his body become empty again,
his huge self shrink to mansize, and the overwhelming sensation flow away like
a wave returning to the sea, leaving him small and desolate behind.
Someone helped him up and onto the bed. He
curled up with his hands over his face, knowing vaguely that there was
something he should be doing but not what. His innards were shaking inside him.
He despised himself for that weakness but couldn't make them stop.
"That wasn't necessary," Goukou
said behind him, a settling hand on his back. "Why did you force yourself
to it?"
"I didn't," he said. "It's
not the same--" He opened his eyes and saw Goushou stretched in front of
him. He was lying between his brothers, as in childhood, but only with the two
oldest. The dearest of them was no longer here. He put a curb on his soul
before that memory could make him weep. "It only happens with you, ani-ue,"
he said, but still heard the tears in his voice.
"I have no wish to cause you pain,
you know that-"
"No. Lying below no longer hurts me.
It's the memories that undo me."
"Why, are they so unpleasant?"
Goushou asked.
"No," he said, annoyed.
"The memories of the sky- to remember what it's like when the wish of
one's heart is all there is."
"Ahh," Goukou said. "I
remember that, and better than you I think, since I was Victor in our battle.
It's a hard thing indeed, here on the ground where it's no longer true."
"I wouldn't know, of course,"
Goushou said. "What interests me is this little detail you mention. Why
does it no longer hurt you to lie below?"
Gouen drew an angry breath at his second
brother's tone. Then something turned over in his mind, like coming wholly
awake from sleep. Goushou always brought him back from the skies, and he did it
by being utterly of earth. A swell of love washed him: and in the same moment
he remembered what he should be about. He sat up.
"Your pardon, ani-ue. Let me get the
cloths to clean us--"
"It will wait. Answer your brother's
question. What caused this change in you?"
"Ahh." He stopped,
then drew his knees up and hugged them as he started to speak.
"This is the way of it then. I went
looking for the Hermit of the Eastern Ocean to get news of Third Brother's
whereabouts. And I found him."
"Indeed. Is he well?"
"As well as he can be, I
suppose."
Goukou looked perturbed. "What does
that mean?"
"I doubt the Hermit finds anything to
complain of in his life. He is one very pleased with himself--"
"You speak of our uncle," Goukou
said heavily.
Gouen made his breath draw evenly before
he answered. "With respect, ani-ue. I don't know how well you knew him
before he left our world, but I'd suggest that-- possibly, he's no longer the
man you knew."
"And you say so, why?"
"It pleased him to toy with me. He
deceived me, hiding behind a spell shape so I wouldn't know who he was. We
began making verses- he's a good poet, I do not deny it. No. He's a great poet,
and that was what undid me. When I could not answer his verse he offered to
give me a herb. He said it would open my body and my soul alike and take me
past their limitations. I believed him, fool that I was. I thought he was
promising me my heart's desire, but evidently he wanted only to instruct me in
the perils of being overly trusting. If he enjoyed humiliating me in the
teaching- and he did- so much the better." He looked up at last. "Do
you know, ani-ue, what has come clear to me? It is the true nature of our
ancestors, for I have seen their ways living on in the Hermit."
Goukou made a noise of disgust.
"Don't be ridiculous. Our uncle is not violent or lustful in any
way."
"That's what I realized just now, when I saw the skies as
they look to a man in his right senses. It's not our ancestors' deeds but their
thoughts that mark the difference between them and us. All that mattered to
them, in the skies or under the seas, was the wish of their hearts. And that is
how the Hermit is. Nothing stops him from doing as he pleases. He lied to me,
and shamed me, and brought the greatest grief to my soul, and felt no
compunction in doing it. Whether that indifference to decency is a result of
his withdrawing from dragon society, or if he withdrew in the first place so as
to be free of our laws, I do not know, but I have my ideas."
"You are wrong," Goukou said.
"I'm certain you're wrong. He is a man of much sensitivity- too much,
perhaps. It was Father's death that drove him into retreat and nothing
else."
"As you wish, ani-ue. I saw what I
saw, and I am glad you did not."
"But still," Goushou intervened,
"this herb worked as he said it would. Your body is open--"
"It worked as far as it went. My body
has opened and I may lie below as I please."
"And what of your verse?"
Goushou asked.
"I have no heart to make verse any
more."
There was an appalled silence.
"Gouen, what happened?"
Goushou said.
"When he gave me the herb it was
followed by a vision unlike any I have ever known, in dream or meditation. I
was on the earth and I saw one who seemed to be Third Brother. But now I do not
know if that vision was true or not. The Hermit deceived me in other things,
and he may have deceived me in this- the better to teach me not to open my
heart too easily." He looked at Goukou finally. "That is why I must
ask Kanzeon. I cannot send a messenger. I must go myself and see hir face as se
answers, because now- now I no longer trust anyone to speak truth to me."
"But what did you see?" Goukou
said urgently.
"Forgive me, ani-ue. Some things are
not for the telling. Even if it was a false showing I do not wish to leave you
with the image of him that I saw."
Goukou looked stricken. "But he was
still a dragon, yes?"
"Yes," Gouen said, "be easy
on that score. He was still a dragon."
"Kanzeon Bosatsu, you have a visitor
from Down Below."
"Mh? Who?"
"A umh
dragon."
"Ohh-hohh. One of
ours?"
"Uhhh--- well, as
to that..."
Oh. No indeed.
Tall and black in his
black robes, and hard as an obsidian statue. Black hair, black face, red eyes
burning in them with a pitiless light. Nothing here of the gallant poet and
warrior he'd been during his service in Heaven. He looked down at Kanzeon in
silence. His lower lip curled a fraction, rather as Goujun's used to do in
stray moments when his weariness and impatience with the ways of Heaven were
allowed to show.
"Well, Gouen?
What's up?"
"I have seen my
brother. What were you thinking of, to give him that form?"
"Convenience. It
lets him be a dragon among humans without knocking them over every time he
turns around."
"Humans? He sorts
with youkai now."
"One that was a
human," Kanzeon said, "but rest his soul he's transformed."
"What?!"
"Not an ordinary
youkai, is all I'm saying. Sit down, Gouen. I get it, really I do. You don't
have to go looming over me like that."
Gouen sat, expression
unmoved, but his words rumbled with anger.
"You could have
sent my brother to one of our kingdoms on the continents. Lacking memory he
could have been anything there and no shame to him: a courtier, a guardsman,
even a husband. He could have lived out this new life of his with dignity. But
you chose to make sport of him- making him the size of a dog, turning him into
a youkai's pet. What do you think to gain from insulting us like that?"
"The size was
purely practical, as I said. And karma decides who he hangs out with, not
me."
Gouen's head went back
in instinctive disdain. "Dragons have nothing to do with karma. We both
know that's true, whatever Heaven likes to pretend otherwise."
"Now you're not thinking.
I know dragons aren't on the Wheel: you only have one life. But Goujun's the
exception. I caught his soul and sent it into a new body. Ergo he was reborn.
Ergo he's on the Wheel. Ergo he's subject to the laws of karma, where the
weight of deeds from one life sets the path of the next. And just for your
information, those laws are outside my control. The attachments of his life up
here were what decided where he ended up down there. Any problem following
that?"
"His attachments
are to us, his family-"
"It wasn't his
family he was thinking of when he died. Sorry. His mind was all on protecting
his men. That's why he goes on doing it Down There."
"His men--"
"Marshal Tenpou,
mostly. That's the youkai you saw with him. I think you met him up here once or
twice?"
"Yes." The
clipped monosyllable spoke volumes.
"And what did you think of him?"
Kanzeon prodded.
There was silence. "I thought him
different from the run of kami. I thought him dangerous. I believed he
threatened to take Third Brother from us. I was right on every score. We should
have had him killed."
"Good thing you didn't. Think of the
position you'd have put Goujun into. You might have lost him for good instead
of just temporarily."
"Is that a threat?"
"You're being unusually unintelligent
today, Gouen. I suppose it's the shock. You know how seriously Goujun takes his
responsibilities. You'd have made him choose between his honour and yourself if
you'd touched one of his subordinates. How do you think that would've
ended?"
No answer.
"Even now. He doesn't remember who he
is, he doesn't remember who his men were, but he'll still attack anyone who
tries to harm them. That's how strong his sense of duty is."
More silence. "That is Third
Brother's nature," Gouen said at last, and turned his face away.
"Yes. He keeps his oaths, even past
the bounds of death."
Gouen's clenched hands showed pale at the
knuckles, and grief and anger rose from him in waves. Kanzeon regarded him with
sympathy not unmixed with impatience. One couldn't pat a dragon king on the
back and say 'There there.' What one could do... One could... Se sat back in
hir chair and thought a moment. Not hir forte exactly, but still--
"If aught we say or feel or do
can please the silent spirits gone
-the sighs and tears with which we moan
old friends, and make them live anew-
be certain, if your brother knew,
within the darkness where he lives,
the sorrow that his absence gives,
the grief his fate has brought to you--
his present state must pain his heart much
less
than knowledge of your love bring
happiness."
Gouen's head jerked around. His face
showed surprise and a kind of anger, and the beginning of something else. The
something else was what Kanzeon counted on. Se tilted hir head to watch. And,
like dawn light creeping into the night-time world, Gouen's expression changed.
Dragon eyes are unreadable so it was impossible to say if he were still looking
at hir or at something else entirely. He began to speak, but with an odd look
on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe what his mouth was saying:
The waves of oceans and the waves of men
The twisted mountains and the wooded
plains-
I passed them all and came at journey's
end
To greet you, o my brother, once again.
Hard fate has rapt you from your brothers'
side
And turned your heart into the stranger's
path.
No deed of mine can stem that changing
tide
No tears or pleas avail, no kingly wrath;
I look on you, who do not know my face,
And speak to you, who keep me not in mind
And turning, leave you in your present
place
With the time-honoured parting of our
kind-
'Hail and farewell' until the chance avail
That I may say to you, 'farewell, and
hail.'
"That's... not bad," Kanzeon
said, impressed in spite of hirself. "Where did you learn to write
sonnets?"
"What?"
"Sonnets. What you just
composed."
Gouen looked at hir blankly.
"Gouen, are you all right?"
"Yes," he said. "Yes."
Wheels were turning in that dragon brain but it wasn't likely se would hear the
results of his cogitations.
"Sonnets, you said?"
"Yes."
"Ah." He rose to go, not
bothering with parting formalities. At the door he glanced back, absently, and
said, "My uncle taught me," and was gone.
MJJ
Aug '05- Feb '06