Keisuke breathed deeply. "They weren't able to decide if Miaka was killed or not! When I read Hotohori's experience, it seemed so real. I was sure Miaka died. But now . . . Oh, please! I really hope she is in Konan. Please let her be there!" Keisuke squeezed the book tightly, wishing as hard as he could, then he began to read with eagerness. "That same day, Mitsukake and Nuriko left for the border. Hotohori packed his horse and left for the capital, leaving Tasuki at Mount Rekakou. He wanted to be left alone, even unsure as he was of his ability to ride, but as he rode out onto the plain, he heard a horse galloping behind him."
Hotohori reined his horse around and reached for his sword. Then he recognized the man chasing him. "Drat!" he thought. "It's that kid again!"
The blond boy cantered his horse up to the Emperor. He was ridiculously cheery. "Highness! I hope you don't mind me coming along!"
Hotohori turned back toward Eiyo and touched his heels to his horse. "I did not invite you to come," he responded tartly.
The boy sweat-dropped. "You shouldn't travel alone out here, Highness. It's dangerous."
"Is it? This is my kingdom. I'll travel alone through it, if I please. And it's people like you who make it dangerous."
The boy looked over to Hotohori, who spurred his horse to a faster pace. The bandit drew up along side the Emperor again. "Mitsukake really didn't seem to think you are ready for traveling. Let alone a fight if you were attacked. But, I'm a bandit and I know this territory. I'm a good fighter. Besides," he ventured, "don't you want somebody to talk to?" The horses came to an abrupt stop. Hotohori turned an irritated glance on him.
"No. You will not follow me to the palace. Return to Mount Rekakou." He urged his horse forward.
The bandit's horse stood still, and he watched the Emperor ride a distance ahead. Then the boy called after Hotohori, "Hah! I'm a bandit. You can't order me around."
Hotohori stiffened. That idiot! But then he smiled. The Emperor turned his horse back again. When he was level with the boy, he turned the corners of his mouth down. "I could have you executed." But his eyes sparkled just a touch too much. He was trying not to laugh.
And the blond bandit could tell. "But you won't do that."
Hotohori brushed a hand across his face and leaned forward aggressively. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because," the boy said in a perfect imitation of Tasuki, "you're going to need somebody to pick your sorry butt up when you pass out and fall off that horse."
Hotohori choked. He stared at the bandit. Suddenly, he laughed. The boy was relieved then; he had been thinking maybe he had pushed it just a bit too far. Hotohori took a moment to catch his breath. "All right. Maybe a traveling companion won't be so bad. I can still have you executed after we get to the city."
The bandit fell off his horse.
Hotohori and his companion rode into the city that evening. The outskirts appeared normal, if a bit busier than usual. But the market looked like a war zone. Fire had burned much of the center area. Charred piles of ruined carts, furniture, and merchandise were stacked outside blackened buildings. The people had already cleaned out much of the damage, however, and beneath the crush of people, business was taking on its normal trappings in the streets. Tables were set up and merchants shouted out items for sale, while women and children cleared the ashes and char.
Hotohori suddenly thought of his encounter with Nakago; the self-doubt seeded by Mitsukake vanished. A fire in the capital. He kept his ears open to the conversations in the street, to see if he could find out more. He heard bits about the raids at the border, and the fires Kutou had set there. Then he heard a child on the edge of the crowd say that this fire, the one in the city, had apparently been an accident. He was puzzling about this, when he heard a statement that forced the thought from his mind and brought pain back to his heart: "A good thing we have the Priestess of Suzaku protecting the city!"
Hotohori looked at his hands. "No. You don't," he thought, bitterly.
He looked toward his companion, but the bandit had disappeared into the crowd. Hotohori was going to go after him, then thought better of it. Whether he came to the palace on his own or was captured by the guard, the blond kid would show up at the palace soon enough. Hotohori was certain.
The Emperor slipped quietly into the palace and retired to the shrine dedicated to Suzaku. He had bowed to the giant bird statue and kneeled, when a shining object captured his attention.
There was a small vase by the kneeling couch. Hotohori picked it up. It was filled with a bouquet of tiny, purple friendship flowers, like the ones he had given to Miaka. His brows knit together. The flowers were a cruel reminder of a much happier time. There was only one other person who had known about those flowers. Tamahome. He had dared come here to mock the bond of the Suzaku warriors. The Emperor's resentment boiled, and he hurled the vase across the room, where it shattered against the wall.
The Emperor stared at the water running in rivulets down the wall. He was shaking with reaction. The slivers from the arrow burned a red trail of pain through his chest, and again he heard the garbled voice. He forced his attention back to the room. The small flowers lay among the ceramic shards. A few of the flowers were torn from bent stems. Hotohori stood looking down at them and his vision blurred. He had to take care of them. The flowers would die without water. Just as Miaka had died.
He bent over the broken vase, carefully flicking the glass aside, and gathered up the flowers. "Suzaku, forgive me for what I've done." Holding the flowers to his heart, the Emperor kneeled on the floor and prayed, until his words finally tumbled to a halt in the early morning.
The sun shining through the windows swept across the bright sculpture of the beast god, and footsteps in the hall reminded him he had returned to Eiyo for a reason. He went to his room and changed into a white robe, without summoning the attendants. He brushed out his long hair and put on a white and gold hat. He considered himself in the mirror. It was proper, fitting that he wear white now. He would miss her. The Emperor walked down the hall to the main offices to resume his duties as Emperor. How difficult it would be without Miaka's laughing face, he thought. He decided to go outside instead.
Hotohori stepped into the bright courtyard of the palace. The sun distorted his vision, so that all he could see was the dazzling sun reflecting off the glowing stones and the hazy silhouettes of the surrounding buildings. An ill-defined mass moved across the flagstones. The Emperor blinked the sun out of his eyes. The dark-haired assembly of the Emperor's advisors had seen him and were bustling toward him with excitement. They stopped a respectful distance away and bowed. Hotohori greeted them with a smile.
"Majesty! When did you return? Your Imperial presence was not announced. We were beginning to worry what had happened to you. Tamahome told us you had been injured?"
Hotohori's demeanor changed abruptly. He ignored the polite inquiry. Instead, he turned on them, angrily. "Tamahome is here?"
The advisors looked at each other in confusion. "Yes, Highness. He arrived here with the Imperial Guard a few days ago," the senior advisor ventured. "He helped with the fire in the market, and has been on the council advising strategy on the border attacks." . . .
Hotohori's head came up, and his eyes narrowed. "That conspirator! Arrest Tamahome and bring him before me immediately!"
Tamahome stood leaning against the rail overlooking the water gardens. Miaka had been so worried . . . He remembered her expression when they'd crossed through the field of friendship flowers. She had cried so hard . . . He tossed a stone into the water . . . Neither Nuriko nor the Emperor had returned by the appointed day. All they had found on the second day was Nuriko's nag grazing, abandoned in the wood, and an area of trampled grass and dried blood. Bandits, maybe. But if bandits had abducted Nuriko and the Emperor, there was little indication of which direction they had gone. Further searches of the area had proved even less fruitful. He had caught up to the Imperial Guard just outside Eiyo. They had not captured the assassin. The Emperor's location was still a complete mystery. Most likely he had died in the woods. Tamahome tossed another stone.
Footfalls approached on the balcony. "Master Tamahome?"
"Yeah?" He turned and started at the party standing before him. "What's going on?" he demanded.
"The Emperor has ordered your arrest." The five guards fanned around him.
"What? My arrest?" He deformed in panic. "Why arrest me?" Tamahome snapped back to normal. "Wait! You said the Emperor? He's returned? He's alive?!?"
They smiled at his excitement. "Yes, Master."
"He's all right," Tamahome muttered to himself. His relief was great, but then, "Why am I being arrested?"
"His Highness has ordered it. You are to be taken to him immediately. Come with us now or we will have to take you by force." The guard sounded most apologetic.
Tamahome struggled with confusion a moment, then replied, "Okay, okay." He stepped forward and the guards clustered around him. They ushered him into the throne room. The Emperor rose to his feet, and his eyes blazed. "Tamahome!"
Tamahome's concern contrasted with the angry tone of Hotohori's voice. "Hotohori! Your Majesty! You're back! Are you all right? Why was I arrested? What is going on?" His words tumbled out, then Tamahome looked the Emperor up and down. White? "Did somebody die?"
Hotohori glared. "Did . . . ? Attendants, guards, clear this room now!" They could all tell the Emperor was angry with this man. They bowed quickly and departed in haste.
Hotohori waited for the room to clear, then descended from the raised dais to stand on the second stair. He scowled fiercely down at Tamahome's figure. There was a white binding around the Warrior's hand, and the Emperor remembered the fight in the woods. "You have cut yourself."
"Oh, it's just a little cut. From somebody that couldn't handle a knife." Tamahome smiled reassuringly.
"Insolence!" Tamahome flinched back. Hotohori's fingers curled into a fist beneath the long sleeves of the robe, but he squared his shoulders. "We were told that you have been working with the armies along the border to ward off the skirmishes."
Ouch, Tamahome thought. That's formal. 'We?' Whatever I did, it sure must have made the Emperor mad. Hotohori was waiting for his answer. Tamahome decided to go with friendly rationality. "Well, yes, Sire. Strategy is very important against an enemy, and there was some question that there might be a traitor in our midst, because the enemy seemed to keep a step ahead of us. I went to keep order in the camps," he finished cautiously.
"Hmm. Did you. You were here when the fire occurred in the market?"
"Of course. It happened right after I got here, before the border attacks. And the blaze was rather large. It took a large force to get it under control. Good thing I was there." His answer was a bit flip. Tamahome was beginning to resent this interrogation.
"We were also informed that you lead the guard out of the palace. You took it upon yourself to order the guard out of the palace to assist?"
"No. Your advisors are in charge when you're gone. You know that."
"You counseled them to take this course of action, however." He seemed to be getting angrier as they spoke.
"Yes, Sire." Tamahome shrugged slightly. Hotohori didn't appear to be accusing him of any crime, despite the temper in his eyes, so Tamahome took a chance. "Um, your Majesty, does this have anything to do with why I was arrested?"
Hotohori ignored him. His voice took on a sharp tone. "Do you realize your counsel left the palace open to an invasion?"
What is the Emperor's problem? Tamahome wondered. He managed to stop him himself from saying it out loud. "How could there be an invasion this far inside the border? Hotohori, Your Majesty, why all these questions? What's happened? Were you at the border during the skirmishes? You're wearing white. Did somebody die?"
"You know!"
Tamahome looked at his feet and was surprised to hear himself mutter in a very bored tone, "It couldn't have been anybody too important. Or at least not too important to me, otherwise I'd know." A sudden movement and a flash crossed his peripheral vision. Tamahome heard the rasp of a sword being drawn and looked at Hotohori.
The Emperor's face was livid, and the character on his neck burned, an intense red. "'Not important?!?'" Hotohori arced the sword back in prelude to his swing, and in that instant, Tamahome realized his life was in jeopardy.
Hotohori brought back his sword and swung it in a move designed to kill. "How dare you?" he shouted. His sword sang in a flat arc, racing toward Tamahome, who stood frozen with shock.
Tamahome couldn't, did not, know how to respond. He couldn't believe this attack. It was beyond anything he had ever encountered. He heard the sword whistle and felt the air rush by him, but suddenly he was no longer standing at the base of the dais. Instead, he was shielded by two people standing in front of him: a red-haired bandit and a tall, dark-haired man. It was Tasuki and Mitsukake. And next to him, Miaka grasped his arm in relief.
Keisuke gasped. "Miaka! She, she's alive!"
Hotohori's blade sailed through empty air. The momentum swung his robes, and he shouted to the air, "Tamahome, why are you still in the palace?!?" Suddenly a man appeared before him. Hotohori raised his sword to strike again. A hand on his arm stayed the blow and the Emperor looked into the face of Chichiri's grinning mask.
"If you'd'a hit Tamahome with that sword, you might have killed him, ya know?"
Hotohori just stared a moment. Then he dropped his hands and put away the sword. The Emperor grasped Chichiri's arms warmly. He caught his breath in a wide smile. "Chichiri! You're here!"
"Of course, I'm here, Emperor. Where else would I be, ya know?"
"I thought you were in Kutou."
Chichiri laughed. "No way, Emperor. I wouldn't care to be a spy there!"
"No. Not as a spy. As Nakago's prisoner."
"Now that is one thing I would never want to be, ya know?" Chichiri stepped to the side so Hotohori could see the figures by the door.
Hotohori was surprised. He thought Mitsukake was at the border. He looked to Chichiri. "Emperor, Mitsukake told us about what happened while you were injured, up at Mount Rekakou, about your dream." Hotohori's expression darkened, but Chichiri kept talking. "A good thing too, ya know? We're all very glad that you're okay. But your dream could have done some real damage to Tamahome, if Mitsukake hadn't told us, ya know?" The Emperor nearly protested, but Chichiri overrode him once again. "There's somebody else here, too, that's especially happy to see you back, and I think seeing her will cheer you up too, ya know?"
Hotohori saw the slight figure, and heard her call. "Hotohori?"
He ran a few steps toward her, then stopped. He couldn't believe it! He wanted to run to her, but it was beyond belief! He ran forward and stopped again. Then, in a rush, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. The Emperor caught her up and twirled her around. "Miaka! You're all right!"
"Me?" She squealed, as he set her feet on the floor. "You were the one we were worried about! What was the big idea pulling a stunt like that? You scared me to death!"
Hotohori took Miaka in his arms. He kissed her and held her close. He whispered in her ear, "I thought you were dead! I thought I would never again see you or hold you or hear you laugh." Miaka's eyes were wide open with surprise. He kissed her again, passionately, but she pulled away. Her voice filled with confusion. "Hotohori? I'm okay. I've been right here since you disappeared. We were waiting for you and Nuriko to come back." Hotohori stepped back, his hands on her arms. He looked at her with wonder and relief. She was here, alive. A hallucination of his own making. All he had experienced was a lie. Mitsukake had been right.
His back stiffened. "Yes. You have." Suddenly, he felt the eyes of those standing around him. He dropped his hands and turned away from her. "Priestess," he said formally, "I ask your pardon for my presumption." He walked back to the stairs and up to the throne.
"Hotohori?" Miaka questioned in a soft voice, but he did not hear her.
The Emperor sat stiffly in the ornate chair. "Tamahome."
Tamahome approached slowly and kneeled before the Emperor, the muscles in his jaw tight.
"Rise, Tamahome, Warrior of Suzaku."
Hotohori knew Tamahome was angry. He has every right to be. I attacked him without cause, the Emperor thought. What can I do to make this up to him?
Tamahome stood up, his nails digging into his palms. He was not just angry; he was furious. First the Emperor attacked him, then he kissed Miaka! Of all the nerve!
Hotohori let his hands hang over the ornate arms of the chair, and considered what to say. There had to be something he could do to apologize, to explain what he had done. Finally he spoke. "Tamahome, we attacked and accused you of a crime of which you had no knowledge. We have done you a grave injustice and we will seek to make reparation to you." He paused, but Tamahome showed no signs of having heard or of being calmer. Concerned, Hotohori continued, "If you have a desire, tell it to us and we will grant it, if it is within our power."
Tamahome glared up at Hotohori; he saw the sad penitence in the Emperor's face. Hotohori knew their friendship had suffered from his rashness, and Tamahome's anger took a confused turn, but did not abate. He swallowed his hot anger and turned his glare to the floor. He wasn't going to offer the Emperor a mortal insult by refusing the apology, but right now he didn't want to look at Hotohori a moment longer.
Hotohori could tell exactly what Tamahome was thinking at that moment; it was written in his expression. Anybody would feel the same, the Emperor thought. I should give him time. I must explain more, and I hope . . . "Please, Tamahome. We were deluded and believed you were a traitor. We know now how wrong we were. We truly desire your forgiveness and your understanding."
Tamahome heard a rustle beside him and felt a hand on his shoulder. Miaka stood next to him. She took his hand in both of hers. "Tamahome. Please forgive Hotohori. I need you to, to be friends again. Please. Remember, in the forest? That arrow was meant for me! Hotohori saved me! Remember? You saw it. You were there. It had to have hurt. Terribly! Pain can make people hallucinate, give them strange visions. That's what this was about! I know Hotohori wouldn't try to kill you, if it wasn't to protect me. Please, forgive him!"
Tamahome stared at Miaka in surprise. Last week in the northern kingdom, they had argued over some dumb stunt she pulled on the Emperor. Her response was to tell him the Emperor had actually called her sensible once when they were in Konan. He'd just about laughed his head off. Miaka, sensible? Yeah, maybe. Once!
But during this moment he was seeing her in a new light. Miaka was the Priestess of Suzaku. She had united the warriors, and won the favor of Tai-itsukun. She truly loved and trusted them all, and wanted them together. But she loved him. Letting this go would help them all. Miaka had told him exactly what he needed to hear, and because of her words his heart forgave Hotohori. Tamahome thought, the Emperor had not been so far off in his judgment of her after all.
"Highness, I already have what I need. You have returned safely. And you protected the Priestess. I think we're even."
The tenseness left the Emperor; he sighed deeply and smiled slightly in thanks.
Tasuki was still standing in the shadows, his eyes watering in jealousy. He was not about to be outdone. He jumped forward, practically dragging Mitsukake behind him. "Hey, Emperor! We were pretty instrumental in saving your life, too, you know. How about something for us?" There were reactions of shock all around, and Hotohori shook his head in amusement at Tasuki's audacity.
The Emperor smiled. "Very well. We thank you for your part in saving our life. What do you request?"
Mitsukake stepped forward, but Tasuki shoved him back. "While you were out cold, I heard a lot of whining from Nuriko and Mitsukake, here. So for all the trouble you put me through, I want you to promise me that they won't ever have to ride on a state saddle again!"
The entire group tripped to the floor.