Emperor of the Eight Islands: Book 1 in the Tale of Shikanoko (The Tale of Shikanoko series) by Lian Hearn Read Free Book Online Page B

instructions and allowed the movements of the deer dance to flow through him. The others watched intently. He could still see them in the room. He was aware of his own figure, wearing the mask, looking through its eyes. The room took on the dappled light and the rich leafy smell of the forest. And then he was the stag stepping lightly between the trees, ears pricked, nostrils flared. Hawks flew overhead, shrieking loudly. The stag bounded after them. Each bound covered miles.
    Shika saw the hawks fly over a great city and under the eaves of a temple set in a deep grove, beside a lake, not far from the riverbank. He read its name board: RYUSONJI . He stood on the veranda and saw, through the open doors, the hawks alight on the shoulders of a man dressed in brocade and silk robes, embroidered with dragons. They opened their beaks and sang to him in human voices.
    The man peered into the brightness and said, “I am the Prince Abbot of Ryusonji, the Dragon Temple. But who are you?”
    Then Sesshin was shaking him and he was once again in the old man’s dusty room.
    “Don’t speak! Don’t say who you are!”
    “I wasn’t going to.” Shika removed the mask, held it to his brow, and thanked it before returning it to the seven-layered bag.
    “I saw your lips move. You were about to speak. Never mind; who was there?”
    “The Prince Abbot of Ryusonji,” Shika said. “The hawk was a messenger from him. The hawks speak to him in human voices.”
    Sesshin breathed out slowly. “Why would the Prince Abbot be turning his attention to Kuromori?”
    “Perhaps he is looking for you,” Lady Tora suggested.
    “I sincerely hope he doesn’t know who or where I am.”
    “Don’t be so modest, Master. Surely at one time you knew each other quite well?”
    “Years ago we studied together. He will have forgotten me by now.”
    “Something must have reminded him. Unless it is the Kuromori lord who has attracted his attention.”
    Sesshin scratched his head with both hands. “I just want a quiet life,” he complained. “I don’t want to come to the attention of the Prince Abbot. He’s going to be very angry at the loss of his werehawk. It is dead, isn’t it?” He poked at the bird, but it gave no sign of life. “You shouldn’t have killed it.”
    “Only Shikanoko could have killed it, and he was there,” Lady Tora said. “Doesn’t that suggest some deeper working of fate than your desire for a quiet life?”
    Sesshin buried his head in his hands. “I would like you to go away now while I consider what this means and how I should advise Lord Kiyoyori. I have a horrible feeling it is not going to turn out well, least of all for me.”
    “Shikanoko can leave now, but I will stay. There is something else that needs to be done before I go to Lord Kiyoyori.”
    Shika wanted to stay with them, wanted to talk about what had happened to him, what it all meant, who was the priest who had seemed so alarming and so attractive at the same time. He sensed they knew so much they could teach him and he was seized by a ferocious hunger to swallow up all this knowledge before it was too late.
    “Go,” Lady Tora said, but he lingered outside, aware of the fragrance emanating from her, mingling with the lamp oil and incense. He heard the old man say, as if with foreboding, “What do you want from me?”
    “That which you have not given to earth, water, air, or fire, to neither man nor woman, for forty years,” she replied. “I am going to make you a father.”
    “You’ll have no luck with me,” he said, trying to joke. “It’s all withered away.”
    “You will be able to give me what I need. Don’t look so apprehensive, my dear Master. I promise you will find it enjoyable.”
    Shika walked away. He did not know if he was feeling jealousy or some other deep emotion. He felt a sob rise in his chest—was it grief? But why would he weep for Akuzenji or for any of the others who had teased and bullied him? Yet he was close to