All throughout her speech, Ashinji could do nothing but stare at the jewel-toned flowers embroidered upon the sleeves of his mother’s robe. Her words were like stones, piled one by one onto his heart until he felt as if it would be crushed.
Abruptly, he stood. “I must go now, Mother,” he stated. Through the open window, he could see Lani and the twins racing across the castle yard towards the gate, three sleek, black hounds bounding along beside them. He had meant to speak to his mother about the dream, but now, all he wanted to do was go somewhere to be alone.
“ You will be leaving at first light tomorrow?” Amara asked. She returned to the couch, picked up her needle, and resumed working.
“ Yes,” Ashinji replied.
“ Will we see you at dinner tonight?”
Ashinji considered a moment before answering. “No,” he said.
“ Then, goodbye, my son. I will see you again when you return.”
Ashinji bent down to kiss his mother in farewell. As his lips touched the soft skin of her cheek, he heard her voice in his mind, as clearly as if she had spoken aloud.
She did not look up at him as he left the room.
Ashinji finally lay down to sleep, a little past midnight. All of his gear was cleaned, oiled, and ready. An hour before dawn, a servant would come to assist him with armoring. He needed to rest, but his mind kept filling up with a relentless jumble of thoughts.
Finally, he gave up and climbed out of bed. Pulling on a pair of loose trousers, he tied the drawstrings securely at his waist and went to sit by the open window across the room.
He took a deep breath of the cool night air. The starlight turned the peaks and slopes of the castle’s roofs into a mysterious black and silver landscape. Ashinji’s quarters were on the uppermost floor at the rear of the east wing; during the day, from his window, he could see out beyond the walls, across rolling green pastures dotted with clumps of trees, to the purple shadows of the vast, forbidding range of the Kesen Numai Mountains, far to the north.
He thought about taking a horse and riding northward, toward the mountains. In three days’ time, if he stopped only to sleep for a couple of hours, he would reach the city of Jokyi and its famous university. Once there, he could petition to take the entrance exams; as the son of a lord, he had already received a good primary education. He felt confident he could pass. His dream of a life as a scholar would be within his grasp.
He sighed and shook his head. Could he turn his back on his family, and forsake every value and tradition he had been raised to believe in? It would be a shocking act of disobedience against a father who had always held him in the highest esteem, for had he not always been a dutiful son? He groaned aloud and pulled his hair in frustration. For eighteen years he had lived as a soldier, and, in truth, had found some satisfaction in it. Why, now, had all of that changed?
He stood up to stretch, then went back to his bed and lay down, arms folded behind his head. He was very tired, yet he did not feel at all drowsy. He decided to close his eyes anyway…and was awakened by a soft, insistent knock upon his bedchamber door.
He admitted the manservant, who came bustling in bearing a light breakfast-smoked fish, bread, a bowl of honey-sweetened yogurt mixed with berries, and a pot of tea. As he ate, Ashinji recalled his mother’s words. Find contentment and acceptance, she had said. The path of his life was set and had been from the very first day he had drawn breath as his father’s second born. His mother was the wisest person he knew. Perhaps, in this as in so many other things, he would be wise to heed her advice.
After all, what was his alternative?
“ My lord.”
“ Captain Miri,” Ashinji replied, acknowledging the older man’s greeting with a short nod. Gendan Miri had been captain of the Kerala Castle guard for as long as Ashinji could remember. He held the stirrup steady as Ashinji mounted his horse, a big, black gelding with a white blaze and large, intelligent eyes. After Ashinji settled himself, Gendan handed up his helmet, which he then hung from the pommel of the saddle. There would be little danger of attack until they reached the area of the last known bandit incursions. He could safely ride bare-headed today.
The first blush of dawn began coloring the sky to the east. The stable yard was dim and cool. The small company to ride out this morning totaled twelve in number: ten castle guards-eight men and two women-with Gendan and Ashinji rounding out the count.
“ Have the troops fall in, Captain,” Ashinji commanded. Gendan turned and called out the order in a clipped bass-baritone. Jingle of harness and creak of leather, horses stamping and blowing, the muted conversation of troops preparing to ride out-Ashinji let the sounds and sights flow through his mind like water over stones. He did not want to think right now; he just wanted to let the horse carry him along to where he needed to go so that he could do what he had to do and return home.
“ The company is ready, my lord,” Gendan reported. He maneuvered his ugly dun mount alongside Ashinji’s black gelding, who, in a fit of equine ill-humor, flattened his ears and turned to bite. Ashinji checked the animal with a quick jerk of the reins and grudgingly, the gelding turned his head away from the dun.
Ashinji looked over his shoulder toward the main door of the castle, then back to the now quiet company waiting at attention. He sighed.
He flicked the reins and clicked his tongue. The gelding started forward, angling toward the gate, Gendan riding alongside, the company following behind in orderly pairs.
“ Ashi, wait!”
Ashinji drew rein and turned in the saddle to see Lord Sen striding toward him. His father’s hair hung loose, and he wore only a simple robe and sandals, as if he had just left the warm haven of his bed to come see his son off.
“ Whew! Thought I’d missed you,” Sen exclaimed as he stepped up and put out a hand to rest on Ashinji’s knee. “It’s harder to get out of bed the older I get. Just wanted to be here when you left. I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful. Don’t take any foolish risks. These are only ragtag human bandits, after all, not trained warriors.” He looked up at Gendan, and a quick message, conveyed by eyes only, passed between lord and liegeman.
Gendan nodded once, sharply.
Lord Sen turned back to Ashinji.
“ I know I can rely on you, Youngest Son.” He patted Ashinji’s knee and stepped away from the gelding’s side.
“ I’ll return in ten days’ time, Father, whether or not I’ve found the bandits,” Ashinji promised. Once more, he urged his mount to walk on toward the gate, which swung slowly open as the riders approached. He led the way onto the sturdy bridge that linked Kerala Castle, which stood on a rocky island in the Saihama River, to the tree- lined shore.
