Free The Lord of the Sands of Time by Jim Hubbert

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 Miyo’s 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! It’s 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 knew—she had carefully calculated—that 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.
    The peasants dropped to their knees like a stand of grass flattened by the wind. As she glared at the throng, Miyo smiled inwardly at the effect she’d created.
    Just then Mimaso’s long speech finally drew to a close. The Great Hall was behind him, and he remained oblivious to Miyo. Following the usual protocol, the yeomen holding the palanquin now lowered it to the ground, like dolls moving in unison. Mimaso stepped forward to escort the Messenger to the ministers’ quarters.
    “Messenger of the Laws!”
    Miyo’s shout rang through the forecourt. Mimaso spun round, incredulous. “Queen Himiko?”
    Miyo descended the rough-hewn steps. Without a glance at Mimaso, she strode toward the palanquin, splashing muddy water. She planted her staff, fell to her knees and prostrated herself deeply before him.
    “Himiko of Yamatai welcomes you. Pray come with me.”
    The Messenger stepped down from the litter, nodded, and stood next to Miyo. When she looked up, his hand was stretched toward her. Miyo couldn’t help but frown. True, she had not warned him against any show of familiarity. When they were making plans, he had asked her if there were any taboos to be avoided. She’d told him not to be concerned about details of protocol, to simply maintain a calm and regal bearing. What a blunder. Still, it would not do for her to spurn his outstretched hand, so Miyo took it respectfully, without the least eye contact, and turned toward the Great Hall. Now all that remained was to get him inside.
    It was then that she noticed the other man—his long, looped braids, the imposing beard, the rugged visage. He was standing next to Mimaso, who stood stiffly at attention as if he’d swallowed a pole.
    It was Takahikoné.
    He must have come, still wearing his sword, straight through the ranks of soldiers arrayed across the forecourt. His face twitched with irritation, as if he might start bellowing at any moment. But that would hardly be necessary. His opinion of Miyo’s brazen breach of protocol was written in his face. Miyo had to seize the initiative.
    “Your manners, Lord Ikima!” she called out. “Before you stands the Messenger of the Laws, bringer of the rules of Heaven and Earth!”
    Mimaso threw himself