The Twelve Kingdoms: Dreaming of Paradise

believed that Junkou had killed Daishou and fled. In either case, Shishou had decided that Junkou's behavior branded him a traitor. Because Junkou and Seiki had spoken together, Eishuku was implicated in the conspiracy as was his wife, who had previously met with Sairin alone.
    "Why would Shishou—" Eishuku said to no one in particular, sinking into the nearest chair. "Suspecting even the Taiho—this is madness. What is the man thinking?"
    "Not rationally, that's for sure."
    Eishuku muttered under his breath, "A king with the shitsudou."
    Shuka caught her breath.
    "We've been accused of capital crimes. We'd better prepare ourselves for what's coming next."
    "Do you really thing Shishou would—? Does he really believe it himself? I mean, Junkou plotting a coup and all? And Eishuku and I conspiring with him?"
    "If he can suspect the Taiho," Eishuku replied weakly, "then he can suspect anybody." He glanced at Shuka and Seiki. "It's like Shishou said, Shuka."
    "Like he said?"
    "When the time comes that you can't trust a friend, it's probably not the friend who's untrustworthy, but yourself. It's hardly likely that Shishou started out suspecting Junkou of anything. Rather, it's the realization that he has strayed from the Way that makes him willing to contemplate this nonsense about Junkou leading a palace coup."
    "Unbelievable."
    "Right now, the one in the most distress, the one wavering like a leaf in the wind, is none other that Shishou. He's the one so proud of his high ideals, and yet he's fallen flat on his face. He comports himself as if he's done nothing wrong, but the fact that Sai is no utopia must be as obvious to him as a fist in the face. When it comes to the kind of kingdom Sai should have been—the kind of king he should have been—the one most unwilling to face the facts is Shishou."
    "That does seem to be what's going on."
    "Shishou couldn't possibly miss the similarities with King Fu. In that case, he'd start seeing enemies in the woodwork, despise himself for doing so, and hate the world for making him so, prompting him to strike out—at Junkou, at me, at Shuka."
    Shuka covered her face with her hands. The one person Shishou truly hated and despised was himself.
    "Shishou really seems to be marching toward his doom."
    Shuka raised her head. "What then will become of us? Or rather, the Taiho?"
    "Who knows?" Eishuku said in a low voice. "But if death is our reward, at least we shall be spared witnessing Shishou's final downfall."

Chapter 12
    T he next morning, the Shoushikou came back to the main hall where Shuka and the other lay sprawled on the floor. Once the doors were again secured by the soldiers outside the hall, the Shoushikou turned to them with anguished eyes.
    "Forgive me for ever letting things get to this point," he said in a small voice. His face ashen, he held out a document. "The Taihou is being sent to Sou."
    "But—her condition—" said Shuka.
    Anguished, the Shoushikou shook his head. "If anything, he wanted to be rid of her because of her condition."
    "Ah," Shuka moaned. So Shishou could no longer abide Sairin's existence.
    "That's why I'm here. You are to escort her," said Shoushikou. He looked at Seiki, "Only the minimal number of retainers will be allowed to accompany her. You will escort her to Houga on the Kokkyou border. Representatives from Sou will meet you there. As soon as the Taiho is handed over to the Sou ambassador, you will return to Yuunei."
    Shuka bowed her head and the Shoushikou nodded. "After you return, as pertaining to the laws of high treason, you will be judged and sentenced. In other words, His Highness does not expect you to return."
    Shuka found herself at a loss for words. This was their longtime comrade, Shishou, showing them compassion: take Sairin with you to Sou and don't come back. If they did come back, they would be prosecuted and sentenced to death for treason.
    Shuka's eyes filled with tears. Shishou still had some feelings left in his heart for them. And yet he was still accusing them of treason. That he could even harbor such thoughts was the even more painful realization.
    Shishou had so cornered himself that he couldn't bear criticism, couldn't admit to his own faults, couldn't ask for a helping hand in setting the Imperial Court aright. He doubted himself too much to see this supposed coup for the nonsense it was. As long as he believed that their contempt and hate for him lay at the root of this revolution, he could not allow them an