The Tiger's Spear

It begins with the rice. It ends there too.

"Leave me" the tall man declares. He sits in a broad chair of cherry oak. It's thick cushions are compressed under the weight of the man corded with muscle. The golden orbs pressed into the arms of the chair glimmer with the light of many candles.

The man who was kneeling bowed even further down and exited the hall, footsteps barely noticeable on the rug that stretched the length of the room.

"Oshun, prepare my horse"

"You grow impatient lord Ishiku" Oshun sat cross legged on a cushion to the right of the warlord.

"Yes. With servants who don't prepare my horses on time," the muscles in his jaw clenched with renewed vigor.

"Ho, you mistake me for someone else my lord. Your anger has no place in my fears. You have three more appointments today." Oshun raised a small cup to his lips, cheeks reddening from the liquid.

Ishiku pinched the bridge of his nose, "What kind of lord am I if even you defy me?"

"The generous kind my lord. This is good by the way" Oshun sipped a few drops more.

"You're lucky we're related or I'd have your head for defiance" Ishiki said with a grin, removing his hand from his face.

"I'd give it if you didn't need it to survive my lord. Your field can wait for three more appointments" Oshun placed the empty cup on a nearby tray, filled back to near the brim immediately by a woman who appeared only concentrated on the level of alcohol in the cup. A mask adorned her face of gold and silver to hide more than identity.

"Thank you" Oshun said, to no reaction. Or, at least no visible one.

The doors to the chamber opened once more ushering in an old squat man, leaning on a young woman for support. Both entered ten paces and bowed before lord Ishiki.

"Lord Kojima Ishiki, renowned warrior of Xiao, prince of Tan Nong, and spear of hope, your servants beseech you" The duo remained on the ground. Four, six, and then ten seconds of silence lapsed.

"Rise, and speak"

The two remained on the ground three seconds more exactly and rose in unison.

"Lord Kojima, I am called Ryoe of the Heron, and this is my daughter Ujima of the Heron. If it pleases your lordship we humbly ask that Ujima become your slave."

Oshun was the only to raise an eyebrow. The servant to his side and Ishiki both retained their masks. Differently, and the same.

"Ryoe of the Heron. I have slaves plenty. I need no more, you may leave"

Oshun cast Ishiki a sideways glance. Not enough for anyone to look his way, but enough for Ishiki to hear it, and therefore to pretend he hadn't.

Ryoe bowed lower and placed his forehead into the thick green and gold carpet.

"Lord Ishiki your servant humbly apologizes for not stating clearly the situation," the old man was gripped with sweat and shaking. "The Heron have no more, we are but two and after this winter will wither as unharvested rice."

His shaking head shining in the light of candles craned at the neck to look Ishiki in his eyes. The contrast of emotions were held together in a moment of terror and apathy

"Have compassion on your servants, and allow Ujima to be a slave to the needs of the house. Though you say you have no need for more slaves" his voice trailed off

"Ryoe of the Heron. Are you suggesting that I was not accurate in my calculations?" The muscles in his jaw strained from tension.

Eyes wide Ryoe slammed his head into the carpet, managing to find where the softness ended.

"Of course not lord Ishiki. Your servant would never suggest that you err in any way. We humbly beg instead for you to add to that which had not previously existed." This time his face remained buried in the carpet.

While the one way conversation was happening Oshun had his eyes trained on Ujima. Tall and slender, young, and with a beauty that broke the boundaries of the rags that she called clothes. If Ishiki didn't take her, Oshun supposed he could find a use.

"You may leave" Ishiki restated.

The water in Ujima's eyes seemed not to affect anyone in the room besides Oshun.

"Coward" Ujima said. Loud and clear, not betrayed by the water in her eyes or the fear that threatened the back of her throat. She grabbed her father by the sleeve and dragged him upward. Shaking now for a completely different reason.

He slapped her in the face and tried to slap again, but was caught on the wrist by his daughters fierce grip. Her knuckles burned white.

In that moment Oshun's mouth stood agape, the servant woman shifted in her robes. The first movement she had made that suggested she heard things.

On Ishiki's face a smile broke the tension of his jaw.

"My daughter is a foolish, foolish girl my lord. She knows not what she says, and we realize now how wild and foolish it was to beg grace," his frame tried to pull her away from causing further damage but her legs locked into place.

"And why," Ishiki began "do you think me afraid girl?"

"You sit on a throne carved from the groves of my ancestors. You tore this land into two with your spear. You see an old man on his knees broken down by the years under your rule and have not mercy to grant?"

Her voice, though soft carried like a swallow through an open night sky.

Ishiki rose from his chair. His black armor reflecting the candlelight into the recesses of the hall. His raven hair shifted slightly in it's bun. He walked towards the old man, grovelling now on the floor afraid to speak, afraid to stand.

"It seems to me," getting within two paces from the duo "that he's the one that is afraid."

Her eyes let fall a single tear. "Who has more courage my lord? The tiger? or the prey that faces it?"

A dark light burned in Ishiki's brown eyes.

"The tiger fears nothing," he placed his foot on the neck of Ryoe, not taking his eyes off of Ujima.

"The tiger fears peace, and compassion. For with those he might become a capable leader," her fear, now replaced with a burning fire she spit into the deep carpet "you fear what your life is without a spear."

Oshun stood up, and the servant girl with him. He should've stood when Ishiki rose, but the scene unfolded too fast.

That girl is going to die an unpleasant death, thought Oshun.

"I cannot discern," Ishiki turned to face Oshun, a wicked smile dancing across his lips, "if the Heron wants to live or die"

"It is entirely in your hands my lord" Oshun said, having to resist an urge to remove Ishiki's foot from the crumpled man's neck, but knowing that movement would solve nothing at that moment.

Ishiki turned back to face Ujima. Her face remained stoic but tears flowed freely from her eyes.

"Very well. You will be my slave" Ishiki said, removing his foot from the man's neck. Ishiki whistled, and two armored men stomped into the room, spears ready at their sides.

"Take this woman to the antechamber of slaves. She is to be trained in the fields," Ryoe gasped, and then choked down his words of resentment.

That is a harsh job in the winter my lord, thought Oshun.

"And take this man to holding. He is to be executed on the morrow for his daughter's defiance" The sake held in the hands of the nearby servant girl rippled with shaking.

Screams were heard in the chamber of a new slave. Screams and resignation, held by the last two members of the Heron, soon to lose half of its members.

"Oshun," Ishiki said.

"I know my lord. Your horse will be made ready"

Ishiki nodded and headed out of the great hall. Pausing for a moment where an impression of an old man had bloodied his head in the deep green carpet. He would not send for water to clean. It was the bill of sale for the price of insolence.

**

Ishiki stood admiring a field of water and rice that would not be planted for a season. An old man in shackles stood to his immediate right.

"We are all rice. We are planted, cared for and harvested. Some are eaten, others are taken to become polished and then sold as Sake. In the end we return to the dirt" Ishiki unlocked the man from his restraints.

"My lord?" The man looked at the spear he was sure would be his death.

"You are free- but not in this land. You may never return to see your daughter. I will take care of her. She will believe you dead for the rest of her days."

A mix of sorrow and joy filled tears flowed into the dirt where the old man stood.

Ishiki felt the weight of his compassion there. If the old man defied him, it would mean that Ishiki had let a condemned defiant man live.

He contemplated chasing Ryoe of the Heron down, and of enforcing his judgement with a spear. His jaw clenched.

Compassion was indeed heavy.