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By Shawn Carman
Kyuden Agasha, the Phoenix Provinces…
THE AGASHA PROVINCES WERE HARDLY the most comfortable of the Phoenix lands. When the family had renounced their oaths of fealty to the Dragon Clan generations ago, and instead offered their service to the Phoenix, they had been given what were essentially the least productive and desirable of the Shiba provinces. It was quite the marvel then, the traveler considered, that the lands were so lovely and productive now, and quite a testament to the abilities and power of the Agasha as a family.
Two Shiba sentries stepped forward as the traveler’s horse crossed through the main gates of Kyudem Agasha. One bowed his head respectfully. “Greetings, honored guest. I regret to inform you that there are no guests currently expected. I must request – your travel papers, and my associate and I will be happy to recommend a suitable inn within the city.”
The traveler chuckled. “There is nothing like spending the majority of the winter in the court of another clan to make one appreciate the courtesy of his own people.” He lifted the jingasa from his head and pulled away the cloth that protected his face from the cold, bitter wind. “Just one moment, let me retrieve my papers.”
The sentry had already bowed deeply from the waist. “There will be no need, my lord. Forgive me, we were not aware of your impending arrival.”
“Never apologize for performing your duty,” Shiba Yoma said. “You honor our family with your diligence.” He dismounted and removed his traveling cloak, revealing the resplendent, brilliant orange and yellow kimono beneath. “I have a need to speak with the lady of the palace. Can you tell me if she is in attendance at present?”
“She is, my lord,” the sentry answered. “She returned from Kyuden Asako three days ago. I believe she is departing again in the morning, and she has a very full schedule. I am certain she will make time for the Voice of the Masters, however.”
Yoma smiled again. “Thank you, my friend. Let us hope you are correct.”
SOME TIME LATER, YOMA FOUND HIMSELF WAITING in a private audience chamber within Kyuden Agasha. The palace was not particularly large, even by the normally meager standards of Phoenix estates. Still, the decor was tasteful and appropriate, and he mused that he could easily be standing in a similar chamber in Kyuden Isawa or Shiro Shiba. The whole of Phoenix lands were like a comforting blanket to Yoma, and he relished being home once again.
The screen slid open, and a woman stepped in. She was hardly a typical Phoenix in appearance, although her clothing bore a familiar pattern of flame and houhou. Her hair was a brilliant shade of gold, like the sunset on the mountains, and her kimono was worn off the shoulder to expose a scandalous, but certainly delightful, expanse of tattooed skin. She might be one of the most striking women that Yoma had ever seen, but of course he knew that her appearance was a carefully maintained illusion. It was not that Agasha Chieh was not a beautiful woman, but that she preferred to alter her appearance via spells for some personal amusement that no one else seemed to understand. “I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she said, her icy tone in stark contrast to her sultry appearance. It was yet another aspect of her personality that Yoma had grown familiar with over the years. “I would normally have made your visit a priority, of course, but there was a delicate matter involving the fishing waters off the coastline that needed my attention urgently.”
“Of course, my lady,” Yoma said with a bow. “I apologize for interrupting what is no doubt a very busy schedule. I would not have come, save that I require your highly specialized expertise.”
The Agasha daimyo tilted her head to the side curiously. “That is not something I often hear. Whatever could I assist the Voice of the Masters with?”
Yoma smiled and looked at a painting of the seashore that hung on the southern wall. “I have spent most of the court season at Kyuden Kumiko, in Broken Wave City. Have you been there?”
Chieh’s expression made it clear what she thought of the idea. “I have no plans to set foot on that cursed island. It is a blight that can be seen from the seashore, and I would sooner see it sunk back beneath the waves from whence it came than stand upon such wretched ground.
Yoma raised an eyebrow. “I am confused as to your stance on the matter. Perhaps you could be more clear?”
“Smarm ill-befits a man of your position, I think,” Chieh said I dryly. “Which of the Masters did you offend to be sent to such a miserable cesspool as part of the winter season?”
“I requested the appointment,” Yoma said.
“What?” Chieh’s dismay was probably the first genuine feeling 1 she had displayed since entering the room. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“The Mantis had information that I required,” he explained. “They accepted virtually no outsiders into their courts save the one at Kyuden Kumiko. It was the only opportunity I had.”
“What information did you hope to gain from the Mantis?” she pressed.
“Were you in attendance at the Jade Championship?”
A second emotion manifested on Chieh’s features, and this time it was irritation, verging toward anger. “I am not accustomed to having my questions answered with more questions.”
“A moment’s indulgence, my lady,” Yoma said. “Did you attend the Jade Championship?”
“I was not, but I believe you were.”
“I was, yes,” he agreed. “It was something of a chaotic environment; however, so I could not be sure I did not simply miss you. You could very well have competed, after all; you have the ability.”
“Flattery,” she said flatly. “How charming.”
Yoma lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “The point of the matter is that I was witness to something that I can only describe as an act of prophecy.”
“Ah, yes,” Chieh said, her coy smile returning. “I have heard some rumors of this incident. This is why you sought me out?”
“I know of no one else in the Empire with more direct experience with prophecy than you, my lady,” Yoma said. “You oversaw the care of your predecessor, did you not?”
Chieh turned away. “I do not like to speak of it.”
“I know that it must be difficult for you,” Yoma said quietly. “I am loathe to even ask you, but I fear this may be more important than any of us know.”
She nodded, and was quiet for a moment. “My predecessor and sensei was Agasha Hamanari,” she said, her voice soft. “He was a great man, a doting mentor, and more caring than even my own father. I have never known a soul so warm and open as his, nor will I again.”
Yoma looked away, embarrassed. “I… I did not know your relationship was so close.”
“Why would you?” she asked bitterly. “Hamanari-sama possessed the gift, of sorts. He was a seer more so than a true prophet. Most of what he could see were mere glimpses, hints of things that might happen. He did not possess the clarity or certainty that the prophets of legend or literature seem to have. What’s more, his gift was not without cost.”
“He suffered, toward the end,” Yoma said. “You stood for him.”
“Only because he wished it,” she said. “He had no children of his own. His wife had died years ago from a recurrence of a fever, the same one that stole their chance for children. When the madness took him… he asked for me in one of his moments of lucidity.”
“Was it the visions that crippled him?”
Chieh nodded. “At first we believed it was the same fever that had claimed his wife, but as the days stretched on he lapsed into states of catatonic madness. He rambled nonsense, foaming at the mouth. There were moments when we could make sense of what he was seeing, but they were rare.”
“Is the gift always accompanied by such… maladies?”
“Who can say?” Chieh shrugged. “The number of those who have possessed such a gift in the past five centuries can be measured on the fingers of one hand. Even scholars who study such things above all others have virtually no reliable information on which to base their theories.”
Yoma considered for a moment. “In your opinion, is it possible that this woman, this former Fox, could be what the Mantis claim? Could she be a prophet, and lack the crippling cost that your mentor paid?”
Chieh sighed. “I cannot say. Is it likely? No. Another with the gift, manifesting so soon after Hamanari-sama was lost to the Empire? And, if her gift were genuine, to be so blessed with so little in the way of cost? I cannot accept that the Heavens would have taken so great a man as Hamanari and favored this… this child so. It is unthinkable.”
“I wish that I could believe that.” Yoma ignored the baleful glare from Chieh. “It would make matters far simpler.”
“You have traveled far to seek my counsel only to ignore me,” Chieh snapped. “Surely there was some other pressing matter you could have seen to instead. Perhaps Asako Toshi was in need of grievous insult in my place?”
The diplomat frowned. “It is not my intent to offer you insult, my lady,” he said cautiously. “Please try and see the notion from my perspective. Which of the following paths offers greater dangers for the Phoenix: that the Mantis have in their possession a genuine prophet capable of foretelling the fate of an entire Empire, or that they have a charlatan that they believe to be a prophet?”
The storm clouds faded from Chieh’s expression, replaced by a look of concerned contemplation. “Neither is particularly attractive,” she admitted. “I would think the second would be easier for us to deal with, however.”
“Exactly,” Yoma said. “We have no choice but to assume that this might be a legitimate prophet, and plan accordingly. I am comforted by your belief that she may be a charlatan, but unfortunately I cannot allow myself to believe that. For the good of the Phoenix.”
For the first time, Chieh’s expression changed to a genuine smile. “I see why there are those who claim you should take the throne.”
Yoma’s expression was one of complete shock. “What?”
“Do not be coy,” she chided. You must have heard the same rumors I have.”
“I… I thought they were a joke,” he said flatly. “Are you suggesting that there are those who legitimately name me as a contender for the throne?”
“So it would seem,” Chieh said with a wave. “I cannot say whether I agree with them. At least, not yet.” She smiled. “Regardless, no one can deny that you are accustomed to dealing with people from all levels of society. You take the edicts of the Masters and relay them to the Phoenix, the peasants, and the Empire at large. You wield considerable authority, and yet you know how- to represent the interests of others. It seems an elegant means of training to sit upon the throne, in my opinion.”
Yoma shook his head and waved his hands. “This is not something I can deal with right now. I have duties that must be attended to. Let someone else concern themselves with how the Phoenix will respond to an empty throne. For my part, I have greater concerns for the moment.”
“How noble,” Chieh remarked. “Is there anything further that I can do to aid you in your assessment of our neighbors?” The last word was slurred in such a way as to sow incredible contempt within it.
“No, not for now,” Yoma said. He bowed deeply. “I thank you for your time and attention, my lady. I know that you have many burdens, and I regret bringing you an additional one, even if only for a short time.”
“It was nothing,” Chieh said with a negligent wave. “As you say, we all have our duties.”
Toshi Ranbo, the Imperial City…
THE IMPERIAL PALACE SOMETIMES SEEMED to be an endless network of chambers, one leading into another without ceasing. Several of them were truly enormous, easily among the largest anywhere in Rokugan, and each capable of hosting the entire Imperial Court in a single session. Such occasions were rare, of course, but the palace was equipped to handle them all the same. Some liked to say that the entire population of a Great Clan could be housed in the palace at one time. It was an exaggeration, of course, but one that could be easily believed by first-time visitors.
Isawa Ochiai made her way past the larger chambers to the smaller one that the Phoenix Council of Elemental Masters had selected for their own use during their occupation of the Impe’ rial City. Along the way, she passed by the Imperial throne room, which had been sealed by her order after being cleansed and ritually purified following the tragic events of the Unicorn Clan’s attempted coup nearly two years ago. There might be others among the Great Clans who believed that the purpose of the Phoenix Clan’s occupation of Toshi Ranbo was conquest, but that would never be the case. No Phoenix had so much as laid eyes upon the throne since the day they arrived within the city, much less attempted to claim it for their own.
The thought caused the Master of Fire to frown. That was, in a large part, the purpose of the gathering she was about to attend. Things had not at all proceeded as she had imagined, as she had hoped that they would. Even in her most pessimistic estimations, however, she had not envisioned what was actually unfolding.
The two guards, one Shiba and one Seppun, bowed sharply as Ochiai approached, and she returned their gesture with a respectful nod. One opened the screen, and she stepped in. Ochiai could not help but smile as she saw the familiar faces of her friends and fellow Masters, many of whom she had not seen since the winter season began. She bowed deeply before them, and they before her. “Good fortunes, my friends,” she said warmly. “It does my heart good to see you all again.”
“Ochiai-sama.” The older, Asako-born Master of Water bowed 1 and smiled broadly. “It is good to see you as well. The Imperial City seems to have flourished under your supervision this winter season. I noticed expansions in many quarters upon my return.”
“Thank you, Bairei-san,” Ochiai said. “We were fortunate to have a relatively mild winter, with some encouragement from myself and others.”
“She charms even the seasons themselves,” the Master of Earth said with a lop-sided grin. “I would wager even the Fortunes are not above her charm.”
“Please, Emori-san,” Ochiai said with a pained expression. “We have little time for frivolity.” She nodded to the group. “I trust that you have read the compiled reports from our representatives to the various major Winter Courts this season, as I have?”
The others nodded. “Predictable, but unfortunate,” was the only contribution offered by Shiba Ningen, the Master of the Void.
“I had hoped for better,” Bairei said sadly. “There are many among the Empire, many that I had believed would support what I we are trying to accomplish, who have instead turned their backs on us. They are not thinking clearly, I fear.”
“They are not like us,” rumbled Tamori Nakamuro. The Master of Air looked older than he had in the fall, his hair and beard more streaked through with grey. “They do not examine things from the same perspective as we do. Whether they admit it or not, they think with their emotions, not their minds. They see what we have done and they feel anger, that they could not do it in our place, or that we would be so presumptuous as to assume this was necessary in the first place.”
“Let us not generalize the other clans,” Ochiai cautioned. “That way lies the arrogance and hubris that has undone so many of our predecessors. If we are to succeed where others have failed, if we are to truly bring peace to the Empire, we must remember that we are not above it.”
“Of course,” Nakamuro said. “I did not mean to suggest otherwise. My apologies.”
“The fact remains,” she continued, “that we have virtually no support among the other Great Clans. There are apparently none who trust that our motives in occupying the Imperial City are pure.”
“There are some supporters among the Dragon,” Emori offered, his tone unusually serious. “Some Scorpion play at support, but of course we cannot be certain that their motives are genuine.”
“I would have expected more support among the Crane, but their alliance with the Otomo leaves little room for tolerance.” Asako Bairei shook his head. “Politics are ever the death of reason.”
“It is not surprising, really,” Ningen offered. “Paranoia and ambition are running rampant throughout the Empire. You can taste them on the wind.”
“Then we have little choice,” Ochiai said. “We must find a way to prove that our motives are pure. We must demonstrate to the other clans that we have no ambition to take the throne.”
Emori cleared his throat. “I must ask a question, and I do not mean to insult. Please believe that I mean no jest when I ask this, but… should we not perhaps consider that it might be in the best interests of the Empire if we do exactly what the other clans believe we intend?”
The other Masters said nothing for a moment, staring at the youngest of their number. Although obviously uncomfortable, Emori did not turn away. “What exactly are you suggesting?” Ochiai asked quietly.
“Look at what we have accomplished in this city,” the Master of Earth said. “There is virtually no crime. The city is growing and prospering, more than it has in years. For perhaps the first time in history, the delegations here work together more than fighting with one another.”
“More than likely only because they are busy wondering about our plans,” Nakamuro muttered.
“Even with the departure of the Fire Dragon, the Lion and the Mantis have made little attempt to resume their numbers since they were banished for open fighting,” Emori pressed. “The Lion have moved protective forces into the city, but only a fraction of the numbers that existed prior to the fighting. On some level they respect our decision, or at least understand the reasoning behind it. If there were not those who believed in what we are doing, they would have descended upon the city the second the Fire Dragon departed.”
“Winter was well underway when that happened,” Bairei reminded them. “They may well be planning to attack us in the spring.”
“If we allow that to happen then all we have accomplished will have meant nothing,” Ochiai said. She favored Emori with a sad smile. “I understand what you are suggesting, my friend, and I would be lying if I said that similar thoughts had not come to me from time to time. But we cannot allow ourselves to believe that we can seize control of the Empire by force. If we are meant to rule, indeed if anyone is meant to rule this fractured land, then it must be with the support of the people, not against it.”
“Then we must win their support,” Emori said, his voice full of conviction. “We must show them that we are genuine.”
“That is the problem we have been struggling with for months. Kind of you to join us.” Nakamuro’s voice was thick with sarcasm.
Ochiai frowned at the older man’s berating. “If you have suggestions, Emori-san, know that we would all dearly love to hear them.”
“Surrender the city,” he said at once.
“What?” Ningen said, raising an eyebrow. It was the most surprised he had ever appeared during the Council meetings.
“We must show them our motives are pure, not merely tell them.” Emori gestured toward the city beyond the window. “We must surrender control of the city now that our agenda has been completed. It is safe, secure, and well protected. We are no longer needed here. Do you disagree?”
“I do not, but to whom?” Ochiai’s frown deepened. “I know of no clan better suited to administrate it than us, and we cannot simply leave it unattended.”
The Imperial families,” Bairei suggested.
Nakamuro shook his head. “They are so closely allied with the Crane that other clans will assume we are endorsing their control of the city.”
“Perhaps we should simultaneously demonstrate that we are not playing favorites,” Emori suggested. “How could we accomplish that?”
“Send troops south,” Nakamuro answered. “Let us mediate the Yasuki conflict before it grows any larger.”
“The Crane will likely not appreciate that,” Ochiai said with a wince. “And the Crab’s reaction will be… volatile.”
“Is our goal to better the Empire, no matter the cost,” Emori asked, “or is it to placate the other clans as they wage war on one another?”
For several minutes there was no talk among the Masters. Ochiai looked at each in turn, and then slowly nodded. “I will begin preparations to withdraw from the city at the conclusion of the winter. It may take as long as the early summer, but for good or ill, the Phoenix will surrender control of the Imperial City.”
