and ground rubies had been used for the blood of the
slain and for the dragon’s smoking nostrils, but this
beauty was but a distraction to the greater treasures
within.
ever so slowly, lifted the lid to reveal the ancient scroll.
Scrolls of all types filled the room, piled naked atop
one another on the bamboo shelves that lined the walls.
Among the collection were histories, Buddhist scriptures,
Heian poetry, and a series of Zen koan to meditate on
that had been personally written by the Soto abbot Gikai
during his retirement. There were treatises about the
ways of the warrior’s arts and philosopher’s arts, about
medicine, meditation, beauty, sex, death, and reincarnation. The scents of ink and mulberry paper hung heavy
in the air, pungent with knowledge on his tongue.
Each generation that had added to the scroll had
written upon its rich paper with delicately ornate brushstrokes, and seeing them before him now, Tatsuo sighed
in awe. He had heard the oldest writing at the top of the
scroll had butterfly wings in the ink, taken from the
clouds of butterflies that fluttered through Kyoto during
Taira-no-Masakado’s rebellion. Their wings imbued the
ink with a celestial magic, some said, but all the ink
looked the same to Tatsuo.
Gold light flooded into the room from the screen door
in the back wall, which opened onto the rock garden in
the inner courtyard. The singing he’d heard at the door
came from outside, and he realized it must be the Lady
Soma. Her sonorous melody poured itself into the well
of his heart and it overflowed with feeling as he gazed
upon the stacks.
But the most valued scroll of all was the Chiken
Marokashi, which detailed the Soma family’s history
back to the time of Taira-no-Masakado, when they had
branched away from the older Taira Clan during
Masakado’s rebellion against the Emperor, and even
further back to when the first god, Amenominakanushi-no-Kami, the Heavenly Ancestral God of the
Originating Heart of the Universe, manifested in the
empty void. The scroll was kept in an ornate box of
lacquered wood and gold, set upon a table in the center
of the room carved from a single ancient magnolia
trunk.
Now this was Tatsuo’s responsibility. He might not be
worthy of such a station, but he would not fail Lord
Soma’s trust.
His hands shook as he unlocked the clasp, and slowly,
And suddenly all of his fear melted away. This was his
duty. He felt the rightness of it as he reached with
now-steady hands to lift the scroll.
Perhaps that lack of change was the real magic of the
scroll. Each name in the genealogy from the most
ancient legendary personages to those living today
looked like they had been written by a single scribe.
He put the scroll back in its case.
It was now his duty to add new names to the scroll. He
would have to improve his own calligraphy. His hands
would need to become like the hands of all those scribes
to serve the Soma Clan in ages past, his every brush
strokes identical to theirs. And he would need to learn
soon. Lord Soma’s wife was with child.
Tatsuo exited the room and closed the painted door
behind him.
At his home, he had several sheaves of mulberry paper
and a badger-hair brush Akio had given him, kept in a
cloth sack with his other treasures. It was time he put
them to use.
*
*
*
Screams woke Tatsuo from his sleep. It took him a
moment to realize his wife was shaking him. He looked
around. Burnt air choked his throat and nostrils. The
screams were coming from near the castle—along with
another crackling roar of sound.
He didn’t need to guess what had happened.
He belted on his outer robe and wakizashi, kicked on
his sandals, shoved aside his wife as she pleaded with
him, and ran outside. Just beyond the village, he could
see the castle—a burning orange glow against the night.
It was like watching a celestial phoenix hatching before
him, the blaze so bright it devoured his perception of
distance.
There was no time to hesitate.
He dashed toward the fire, even as more men ran up
from the village to help combat the flames, and some
fled from the blaze in cowardice.
The whole castle was engulfed in flame.
Men and beasts screamed in the night.
Horses ran wild. One of them, a great warhorse,
cantered straight at him. He raised his hands, shouted,
and startled the beast. It reared up, hooves flailing before
him, and he seized hold of it by the reins. He dimly
realized someone must have been riding it, as he
mounted the saddled beast and turn Y]