3

Love

ONCE SANGO KNEW OF the demons, she searched for evidence. Each night before she slept, she would compose her mind to recieve more strange dreams. None came that she could remember. After the talk on the clifftop, Kagura did not mention the subject again, and Sango sensed it was now closed until she reached an age when she could be absorbed into her great-great-grandmother's sisterhood. It was easier to discover things about her ancestress. There was a statue of her in the solarium. Ilcretia Dog. Sango had previously ignored the statue as part of the surroundings; it peered whitely through spreading palms that came from warmer shores in the south. Now, Sango decided she looked very much like this fabled ancestress herself. Because she look at the piece with new eyes, she realized the pose was rather strange, not at all formal. Ilcretia stood erect with her head thrown back, her eyes staring, as if she beheld something marvellous in the sky. Her arms were rigid by her sides, fists clenched, and one toe peeped beneath her gown as if she was about to step forward off a cliff into the unknown. It was difficult to tell whether she was beautiful or not, because the whiteness of the stone seemed to blur her features, but her posture blazed with energy. She had lived in Old Caradore, which was nearly half a day's ride away up the coast. Sango had never been there. It was a ruin now, best forgotten. Too many terrible things had happened there. Ilcretia had come to new Caradore with her children, and had made it a home. She had clearly been a survivor of great inner resource. Here, she had built up her sisterhood from the memory of pain. she had not succumbed to melancholy or despair. Sango imagined her commissioning this statue, leaving it as a reminder for all future generations: be strong and fearless.

On one occasion Inu Yasha caught Sango meditating before the statue. She jumped when she he was there, felt strangely guilty. Inu Yasha wrapped an arm about her shoulders. "Mad granny!" he said with a laugh. "Why are you staring at her like that?"

"She wasn't mad!" Sango blurted out before she could stem the words.

Inu Yasha cast her a sidelong glance. "But she looks mad. Can't you see it? The sculptor caught her grief in stone. She's contemplating throwing herself from the battlements, because her husband is dead,"

It occured to Sango that Inu Yasha's remarks suggested he knew something about their family history too. But from where? Kagura had told her it was secret. "How do you know that?"

"Dada told me a long time ago. The statue used to scare me, and he said that women's grief was scary."

"Did he say how her husband died?"

Inu Yasha shrugged. "Can't remember. Perhaps it was a riding accident, like Dadda's."

Sango smiled. "No. Perhaps she poisoned him and was driven mad by guilt."

He grinned. "You see? Scary!"

Sango yelped and hit out at him, and together they ran from the solarium, leaving the statue to continue her endless ultimate step.

SANGO ALSO BEGAN TO view Kikyo in a different light. Her family was involved in the sisterhood. Did Kikyo know about it? Sometimes, Sango was tempted to make a leading remark and see where it went, but something always stayed her tongue. She remembered the ferocity in Kagura's eyes as she'd made her sister utter a vow of silence. She had sworn on Inu Yasha's life and must not break it. Still, as the years progressed, it became ever more clear that Kikyo thought of herself Inu's future wife. Sango became increasingly uncomfortable with the idea. She loved Kikyo, but sometimes felt jealous.

Despite Montimer Leckery's scant home leaves, Saska continued to bear him children---after Rin, another daughter and two sons. Kikyo began to talk more often of when she would have children of her own. Saska plainly encouraged her. She would often make light-hearted comments about how her daughter and Inu should soon be talking about the future. Sango's face would burn on these occasions, prompting Saska to mention Miroku's name. She seemed to think Sango was embarrassed about adult relationships, and talk of Inu Yasha and Kikyo only mad her think of her own marital destiny. Miroku could not have been unaware of the almost salacious currents that seemed to swirl about the two households as the youngsters all moved into their late teens, yet he never gave any indication of how he felt about it. Sango wavered between feeling relived and outraged. She tried to imagine Miroku kissing her in the way that her imaginary heros had done a few years before, but the image just wouldn't stick. She appreciated his looks and liked his company, yet he was always so distant from her, as if they never made a real connection.

One day, Sango said to her brother,"Do you want to marry Kikyo?"

It disturbed her that her question didn't make him look surprised. If anything, a certain furtiveness crept over his face. He looked away from her. "Well, I'll have to marry somebody," he said lamely.

"Do you love her?"

She saw the color creep up his neck. "Oh, Sango, shut up! If I marry her, it won't be for a long time. I have to go to Magrast next spring. You know that."

Yes, she knew that. The summons had come. The emperor cordially invited the heir of Caradore to the city, to take up the position of an officer in the imperial army. Miroku too would soon be gone, like his father before him. As Sango bacame older, she became more aware of what was going on in the world.Reality intruded into her dreams. Caradore was treated like a breeding ground for officers. The emperor regarded its inhabitants as good stock, and kept them plump and fertile in the corner of the empire. The empire had remained more or less static for forty years or so, with various problem areas on the borders, but now, for whatever reason, the emperor schemed to expand his territory. The offical line was that Magravandias wanted to fill the world with the divine presence of Madragore, and strip its barbaric corners of brutal overlords and oppressive governments. Perhaps that was true, and the Magravands acted upon purely noble instincts. But all about the world, there must be places like Caradore, whose own gods and magic had been suppressed and destroyed, whose sons were bred like horses to swell the ranks of the army: all in the name of the lord of wolves. It was a holy war, and because of that, without pity.

Sango knew that sometimes men didn't come back from the campaigns and that all the noble families in the district were rent by gaping holes that grief couldn't fill. Inu Yasha would be fairly safe, because he was marked to be a general, protected behind a horde of men who would soak up the arrows, the sword-thrusts, the poisonous steams. Miroku might teach a similar elevated position, but it would take longer.

On the night bafore Inu Yasha was due to leaveCaradore, all the local families gathered at the Dog domain for a melancholy, yet boisterous, celebration. Sango felt feverish, as if there was some buisness she hadn't concluded. Inu Yasha looked radiant, as if he were pleased to be going away. Sango had to leave the party, and went out onto one of the terraces, where the spring breeze cut across her face. She realized her cheeks were wet; some tears had escaped without her noticing them. She heard footsteps and sensed a male presence. It would be him. What would she say? What was there to say? Then, something unfamiliar about the other's smell, or sound, made her go tense. It wasn't Inu. She turned and saw it was Miroku, looking down at her shyly from beneath a mop of hair. He had grown so tall, so angular. He was leaving with Inu and she'd forgotten about it. Now, the proposal would come, she thought, because Saska would have bullied him into it. She wanted to say, "Yes, all right, we might as well!" even before he spoke.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked her.

She remembered the tears and brushed them away. "No, not really. What do you expect?" She didn't want to be harsh, but something about the coziness of the situation annoyed her. "Have you come to ask me to marry you?"

He laughed nervously. "Sango, you are the daughter of the waves! Lashing and eroding the rocks of male resolve."

His comment surprised her, and she softened towards him. "I'm sorry. I just can't bear the thought of Inu leaving---nor you, of course. It seems so unfair. Our life is here, in Caradore. Let the emperor do as he likes. He should just leave us alone."

He took a step closer, ignoring her remarks. "It would please our families if we were to be married, Sango. I know this will be an alliance of convenience rather than passion, but is there anyone else you would rather have?" He did not ask that through arrogance, but particality. There was no one else. The Leckerys and the Dogs had grown up together. They were already one unit.

"I know, Miroku. Yes, of course we shall marry. Perhaps when you have your first leave?"

He exhaled in what seemed to be relief. Had he thought she might refuse him? "Yes. You might not believe me, but it is something I will look forward to."

She laughed. "I'm not sure I do believe you, Miroku. You have never struck me as a romantic type."

He grinned. "I just want a wife who's not afraid of getting her shoes dirty, that's all."

"Ah, so the rock and tree climbing will continue, then?"

"Of course. It is a prerequisite."

At this point, Sango realized that being married to Miroku wouldn't be too much of a trial. Then she remembered Kikyo, and some of her warmth fled. "And your sister? Is she too happily betrothed?"

Miroku had the grace to look uncomfortable. He frowned. "I thought you knew. Inu asked for her hand a week or so ago. I can't believe he hasn't mentioned it."

"Nor I," Sango said lightly, although her insides had turned to ice. "I would have imagined Kikyo would want a big fanfare about it tonight."

He shrugged, "I don't know."

Sango sighed. "Oh well. It isn't something I hadn't expected." He would think about how her tone suggested she'd just heard a lover of hers had announced he would marry another women. Let him think what he liked, Wickedness stole into her. "I suppose we must kiss now." She faced him. "Well, come on then."

She expected him to cringe and mutter some excuse, but he merely rolled his eyes and took her in his arms. It was hard to imagine where he had learned this skill. Had he frolicked with maids and gypsy girls? Had Inu, too? She closed her eyes, wondering if this was pleasant of rather disgusting. Was it invasion or sharing? A strange sound insinuated itself into her mind, like a mournful howl from far away. She pulled back. "What was that?"

Miroku looked puzzled. "What?"

She could still hear it. It was like a song, something unearthly and terrible, yet full of despair. She turned to the balustrade. "It's coming from the sea. Could it be a bell or something?"

Miroku stood beside her. "I can't hear anything."

The sound had gone now, sobbing away on the wind. Sango shuddered. She felt desolate.

They went back into the castle, arm in arm. Now, she belonged to him and the air between them had become charged. Strange how so great a change could happen so quickly. Sango saw Inu Yasha standing beside one of the heavy columns that were garlanded with ivy and sea-moss. Kikyo was a pale presence beside him, her colorless hair a cloud around her shoulders. She was dressed in white, like a bride, and her cheeks were flushed. Her sisters, Rin and Kaede stood close to her, proud and protective. Sango knew her own eyes did not sparkle as Kikyo's did. She was a cool presence beside her future husband, no more than a friend to him.

"Inu!" Sango exclaimed sweeping up to her brother and Kikyo, and dragging Miroku behind. "Wonderful news. I am to be a wife."

Inu Yasha's expression was unreadable, but she supposed he already knew Miroku's intentions. Kikyo uttered a delighted squeal and bounced forward to hug her friend.

Sango took a step back, fixed her brother with a stare. "But I'm surprised you didn't tell me about your betrothal to Kikyo. Aren't you going to announce it tonight?" She could not be warm; it just wasn't in her. Kikyo's face froze into a expression of alarm and confusion. Where was the girlish exchange of happiness she had expected?

"It will be announced," Inu Yasha answered stonily.

A wall had come between them, a soft wall of Kikyo. How could it hurt this much?

"I want to dance," Sango told Miroku, and hauled him onto the floor, where enchanted whirled through the candlelight to the skirl of violins, the heart-beat of drums.

AS THE FIRST GUESTS began to leave, Sango wandered out of the castle and down to the beach. She could not think; she was numb. The sea crashed as hungrily as ever at the shore, the cresting waves like the curled spined of dog demons. She knew that Inu Yasha would come to find her and he did. She wanted to tell him what she knew about the sisterhood: shock him. But when she sensed his soft footfall in the sand behind her, the urge to speak faded away. He did not know what he was but she did.

"Sango," he said. "You are angry with me."

She did not trust herself to speak.

"I would have told you, only I knew you wouldn't like it." He paused. "This is difficult; we both know how much."

She turned round then. "What are you saying, Inu?"

His gaze slid away from hers. "I don't know really."

"Then ler me tell you. I'm jealous of any other women who shares your hearth, your life, your bed. I love you, Inu, you are part of me, and if some aspect of that is impure, then ler it be so. I will hate her for having you!" Even as she spoke, Sango knew Inu Yasha harboured no such jealously for Miroku. She turned away from him again, furious because her eyes were filling with tears. She shouldn't cry; it was weak.

"Sango," he said quietly, and put his hands on her shoulders.

She raised an arm, but would not face him. "Go, Inu. Go now. I pray Madragore will protect you in the army. My love will go with you."

He squeezed her shoulders briefly. "We shall speak when I return. Take care, Sango." Then he was gone.

Sango stared out at the ocean, seeing nothing. The splinter of the waves upon the sand were just a roar in her head, part of her hectic blood. What had she said?