Free The Initiate Brother Duology by Sean Russell Page A

man whispered, his dignity beginning to dissolve, “do not interfere, Brother.”
    But still Shuyun restrained the man, seemingly without effort. “But that cup was to be mine.”
    The merchant’s eyes widened and he shook his head choking back a sob. “Not now, not now….” He stared down into the steaming cup. “Karma,” he whispered. Then he looked up to meet Shuyun’s eyes. “It is not the placeof a follower of the Way to interfere in a matter of…continuance. It is the law of your Order.”
    The monk gave a slight nod and his hand was gone from Kogami’s arm.
    The merchant released a long sigh that rattled in his throat. “Listen, Brother, here is my…death poem,” he said, forcing the words out.
    “Though long veiled by clouds
    And light,
    Always it has awaited me,
    The Two-Headed Dragon.
    Beware of the priest, Brother. Beware of his master.”
    The man drank off the poisoned cha and dropped the cup over the side. The desperation in his eyes was replaced now by utter and total defeat.
    “May you attain perfection in your next lifetime,” the monk whispered, and bowed formally.
    Kogami Norimasa crossed the deck and seated himself in a position of meditation in the shadows. He composed his mind, hoping that, in his last moments, the poison would not rob him of all dignity. He tried to fill his mind with the presence of his wife and daughter, and when the end came, these were his final thoughts.

Three

    L ORD SHONTO MOTORU was in a state of extreme harmony with both himself, which was usual, and with the world, which was less common. He rode in a sampan sculled by four of his best boatmen and guarded by nine of his select guards. Ahead of him were two identical boats and behind three more. All had a large man and an elegantly kimonoed young woman seated inside, only partly visible through side curtains.
    The canal they moved along was lined by high walls of plaster and stone, broken only by the arched entrances onto the waterway. Each entrance had solid gates extending to the water from which point metal grillwork descended to an underwater wall. Behind these well guarded facades stood the residences of the hereditary aristocracy of the Empire of Wa. Out of the walled gardens drifted occasional strains of music, laughter, the acrid odor of burning charcoal, perhaps a hint of perfume.
    “I thought you said you were feeling secure, Uncle?” the young woman said. She was, in fact, his legally adopted daughter but had called him uncle from the day she could form the word and still persisted in its use, sometimes even in public.
    “I am feeling secure, Nishi-sum, which is to say that tonight I’m not concerned about what the Emperor may be plotting. He needs me, for the moment. As to any others who may wish me short life—I’m a little more cautious. Thus the decoys, if that is why you ask. Security, as you can see, is a relative term.” He laughed.
    “I think you are only happy when you are going off to war,” Nishima said.Pulling the curtain aside slightly, she peered out to assess their progress, and there, riding the surface of the canal, was her reflection, wavering like a flame. My eyes are too large, she thought and closed them slightly, but it then looked as though she were squinting so she gave it up. Her long, black hair, worn up in a formal style, was held in place by simple, wooden combs, inlaid with a motif of fine silver. She took one last look at herself, sighed, and jerked the curtain closed. The Lady Nishima Fanisan Shonto did not agree with the general assessment that she was a great beauty. To her eye, the bones of her face were too strong, her eyes the wrong shape, and, worst of all, she was too tall. She did not consider the mirror her friend.
    “How long will this campaign against the northern barbarians take?”
    “Not more than half a year, though I will stretch it out to the tenth moon. It is always dangerous to be too successful in battle. The Emperor is not too secure