Issui Ogawa - The Lord of the Sands of Time

A great conflict between men and mononok in a world yet to be. A voyage to the past to end the war before it begins. Such was not difficult for Miyo to comprehend, at least the idea of it was not; she too often wished to go back in time and do things differently. But she had no notion of how such a journey might be accomplished. That night in Kans village, she learned how the soldier was given life in the future and how he was sent by the ruler of that world as a harbinger of danger. While the Messenger had not spoken of it, Miyo sensed he had left something behind in that world. Perhaps for him this was a journey with no return. Miyo recalled that moment on Mount Shiki when she was ready to abandon everything, and thought perhaps she understood something of what he felt.

And yet the weariness emanating from this mans core seemed to come from something else. Miyo did not know how long ago he left his country, but he did not seem the sort to be tormented by homesickness. Was this not something deepersome burden of sorrow he could not lay down? Miyo had not been able to ask him. That night in Kans village, they stayed up till dawn, hurriedly making plans, agreeing to restage their meeting for the ministers. The Messenger yielded to Miyos insistence on receiving him as Queen Himiko, with all the proper ceremony. He even made a proposal to render the performance more effective.

To make a fuss about my being the Messenger of the Laws wont guarantee cooperation from your ministers. We need to engage their self-interest.

Well, I suppose youre right, answered Miyo. So?

So were going to give them a little motivation to accept me, said Orville.

How?

It so happens that the perfect event is about to take place. Cutty? How does it look?

You are correct. Our Wasps indicate the timing is perfect. The speaking sword and the Messenger began conferring at length. That of course was strange enough, but the Messenger seemed so used to this sort of manipulation that Miyo felt a twinge of concern. Subterfuge seemed to come so naturally to him.

It took ten days to lay the groundwork. On the pretext of querying the gods concerning the state of the kingdom, Miyo deliberately performed a singular divination. Then she ordered that preparations be made in accordance with the oracle; that morning, a detachment of soldiers set out to find the Messenger. Here at the palace, the vigil would continue until their return.

The distant murmur of peasant voices fell silent, replaced by the approaching tread of massed marchers. The elite detachment of three hundred had returned. They crossed the moat surrounding the palace, entered the stockade, marched past the line of small huts belonging to the ministers, and reached the forecourt of the Great Hall. Miyo could hear the neighing of their mounts and the shouts of soldiers warning onlookersstand back!

Kan entered through the sunlit doorway. He stopped three paces before Miyo and prostrated himself. They have returned. Lord Mimaso performs the ceremony of greeting.

Where is Takahikon?

Lord Ikima leads the palanquin guard. To protect the Messenger from disturbance by the masses, so he says. Miyo felt a stab of apprehension. Takahikon, are you up to something reckless?As Lord Ikima of Yamatai, Takahikon retained sole power over administrative affairs of state. This gave him greater influence than Mimaso, who was responsible for religious ritual, or Mimakaki, the chiefdoms master of ritual protocol. Indeed, Takahikon was effectively the ruler of Yamatai. As shaman Queen Himiko, Miyo ostensibly ranked above him, and Takahikon humbled himself before her as her younger brother, but this was merely a pretense to ensure the fealty of other chiefdoms. Beyond that, Takahikon would never allow Miyo to overshadow him.

He would surely be harboring suspicions toward this strange visitor Miyo had summoned, however exalted that visitor might be. Might Takahikon be seeking an opportunity to assassinate the Messenger? No, that was unlikely, Miyo thought with a shake of her head. It was too early. He would wait, see how events developed. After all, his visitor was creator of the Laws. Perhaps he could be turned to good use, like Miyo had been, to help Takahikon govern. And if he became a hindrance, disposing of one man would be a simple matter when the time was right. Now was not the time to show his hand.

Yes, that was what Takahikon would be thinking. He was cold-blooded, but also an adroit tactician. Still, these were all assumptions; he likely assumed that Miyo would continue to behave as he expected. If she did something out of character, how would he respond?

From the forecourt came the sound of Mimasos shrill peroration. Second after Takahikon in the hierarchy of Yamatai, this timid, gaunt man was in fact Lord Ikimas errand boy. His nervousness was audible in the hoarse quavering of his unimpressive, birdlike voice. As she listened, Miyo rose serenely to her feet.

My lady? Miyos maidservants turned toward her with doubting eyes. When Miyo stepped forward they raised an outcry. It is forbidden! You cannot leave. You will be defiled!

Miyo called out for Kan. As arranged, the boy quickly took his place behind Miyo. The women tried to follow; he brandished his sword. Miyo cast a glance at her terrified maidservants and swiftly strode outside. Under lowering skies, the scene in the forecourt spread out before her.

The Messenger sat cross-legged on a palanquin, surrounded by three hundred or more soldiers drawn up in ranks. His regal bearing was visible even at this distance. Before him were Mimaso and the ministers of state. They knelt respectfully in the mud, but Miyo guessed they were inwardly annoyed. They would fail to appreciate the significance of this ceremony for the Messenger of the Laws. An envoy from Great Wei might deserve such protocol. But this man?

The peasants permitted to watch the ceremony lined the opposite sides of the forecourt, with guards standing at intervals in front of them. Commoners were not usually allowed in the palace, but Miyos oracle required their presence. They seemed not so much bored with the proceedings as eager to return to the fields. Summer was no time to be away from their crops.

Then the peasants began to understand what was happening. A buzz of curious voices gradually turned to cries of amazement as Miyo resolutely gazed down on them, her face an expressionless mask.

Who is that?

A lady in waiting?

You fool! Its Queen Himiko!

Standing on her dais beneath the eaves of the Great Hall, Miyo was arrayed for a divination: white hempen tunic, hem dyed madder red, her bronze mirror glittering on her breast. She was bedecked with necklaces of pearls and magatama, curved beads of quartz and jade. She held a bronze wand in one hand and a long staff adorned with star anise leaves in the other. Her blue-black mottled tattoo ran from cheek to breast, and her entire body was decorated with rope patterns in ground cinnabar. Her maidservants had tried to dissuade her, warning that the patterns would run in the heat, but Miyo insisted. Tattoos were quite common in this land, yet she knewshe had carefully calculatedthat her appearance would be met with awe by her subjects. This was their first glimpse of their queen, and her raiment had to be conspicuous enough to spark immediate recognition.