第92节

And with good reason. He had received a letter from the Shogun

ordering him to take to the air in one of the newly constructed

flying-horses.

In the three days since the Herald had delivered the letter, Toh-Shiba

had read it over and over again, and each time it had left him

disturbed and apprehensive. He might lack some of the bleaker moral

principles to which samurai were expected to adhere, but he did not

lack courage. He did, however, fear the unknown. In his youth, he had

fought to secure the snow-laden northern marches, and was still ready

to wield a sword if duty called - provided he had both feet planted

firmly on the ground, or in his stirrups.

Since he was the Shogun's official representative, it would have been

highly improper to comment upon the wisdom of Yoritomo's decision to

support the Heron Pool project but, privately, the whole idea filled

Toh-Shiba with deep foreboding. If men had been meant to fly, Ameratsu

would have given them wings. The sky was the realm of the kami, and

only birds had been granted passage through it. Man had been placed on

the earth and the waters, and he should not seek to alter the divine

plan.

In the ancient world, ruled by the Dark Light, men had sailed across

the cloud-world in great sky-boats.

They had attempted to conquer the realm of the kami and steal the

glittering jewels of heaven. But they had been cast down. The shining

silver sails that bore them aloft had been torn apart and thunderbolts

had turned their proud hulls into funeral pyres. Crews and passengers

trapped inside the shattered hulks perished as they crashed down upon

the cities of the fools who had bifilt them.

Blinded by vaulting ambition and indifferent to the wrath of the karni,

humankind had continued its assault on the heavens using the powers

given to it by the spinners and weavers of the Dark Light. They had

trodden upon the face of the moon-goddess and sent spy-chariots

hurtling towards the stars. Finally, Ameratsu-Omikami had purged the

world of its madness by casting the sun into the sea.

Those early voyagers who had ventured aloft had been utterly destroyed,

and this new attempt was also doomed to fail. It was for this reason,

concluded Toh-Shiba, that the Shogun's own family had distanced

themselves from the enterprise. The scheme to build flying-horses had

been the brainchild of Lord Hiro Yama-Shita, a man whose ambitions

could not be ignored. By granting the licence to the Min-Orota, the

Shogun had skilfully brought the enterprise within his sphere of

influence whilst still keeping it at arm's length.

The Herald Toshiro Hase-Gawa - who had privately confessed to being

terrified at the prospect - had mounted one of the flying-horses in

order to be able to make a first-hand report on its qualities to the

Inner Court. And now that their relative safety had been demonstrated

by the training, without any serious incident, of twelve samurai, the

Shogun had asked his Consul-General to make a similar flight before

delivering his own opinion of their military potential.

As the highest-ranking representative of the bakufu at the ceremony,

his flight would be a symbolic seal of approval; an indication of the

importance the Shogun attached to the work being carried out at the

Heron Pool. That, in essence was the text of the letter.

Framed as a request, it was, in fact, an order to take to the air. The

memory of the punishment meted out upon humankind for its past follies

in this direction was sufficient to cause him to feel worried by the

contents of Yoritomo's letter, but he had been even more disturbed by

the way it had been written. Nakane Toh-Shiba was, after all, related

by marriage to the writer, and all the previous communications from his

brother-in-law had been noticeably warmer. Toh-Shiba was not the total

buffoon many thought him to be. While it was true he expended a great

deal of energy indulging his obsession in forcing open the

rose-petalled gates of the secret garden which was to be found cupped

between a firm pair of female thighs, it was not his sole interest in

life. In his youth, he had received an education befitting the son of

a noble house, and he had spent several years at court.

He was therefore able to discern the subtle but significant changes in

phrasing and choice of words.

Yoritomo's letter was courteous and correct but, if one re