“So the discovery my father was a spy for the barbarians broke the fragile trust that Lord Sentaro was trying to build with the barbarian king?”
“I think it fair to say so. Still . . . ”
I frowned. “Yes?”
“The timing could not have been worse. An agreement had already been reached in principle. After this incident, that agreement was never formalized.”
I shrugged. “Things often happen at the worst possible times. I must bear some of my father’s guilt in this.”
“You cannot blame yourself for your father,” Kanemore said, though his mind was apparently elsewhere.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked.
“Not deliberately so,” Kanemore said. “Yet, thinking as a strategist, I know the worst possible time from your own perspective may well be the best of all possible times for someone else.”
“Meaning anyone who wanted to prevent any such accord could not have chosen a better implement than the incident with my father?”
“I can’t think of one. The gaijin prince’s raiding, apparently at your father’s request, did not help but it was not unusual. It was almost expected. Yet the spying business . . . ” Kanemore sighed. “Forgive my idle musing. No one stood to gain by such a thing. Not the gaijin prince and certainly not my uncle, or even Lord Sentaro though I freely confess I have always disliked the man. It would have been quite a boost to his standing if the negotiations had succeeded.”
“No doubt,” I said. “Thank you.”
“For what little I have done, you are welcome. But I’ve been away from Takahito for too long. He will begin to think he has lost his shadow and try to slip off and flirt with Lady Hayako again. Not that I can blame him; she is quite the little charmer.”
“Do what you must. Perhaps one day Takahito will even appreciate it.”
Kanemore smiled. “I do not ask for miracles, Lord Yamada. Just as much as men can do. I can only hope that what we do in the days to come is sufficient to the need.”
“As do I. Until we meet again.”
When Kanemore left, I remained on the shrine grounds for a while and pondered. Kanemore hadn’t told me much I didn’t already know, but perhaps more than I had expected. I hadn’t realized Kiyoshi had been the only one to fall that day. That was odd but not suspicious; it was a relatively minor skirmish, and such things happened. Even assuming Lady Snow was correct and my father had been betrayed, I did not see what Lord Sentaro or anyone in the Emperor’s camp stood to gain from the breakdown of negotiations. For that matter, I did not see what anyone on the opposite side had to gain. Unless, perhaps, the chief of the Abe Clan and the barbarians had been in agreement even then. Yet why wait seventeen years to start a war they supposedly wanted from the start? Was anyone capable of containing such determined aggression, with both the subtlety and the patience to wait so long to see their labors come to fruit? While I was willing to grant that such was possible, I would not have cast a wager against the odds. The premise simply did not make sense to me.
I turned my attention back to the matter of the ghost cloud, or whatever it was. This manifestation didn’t make a lot of sense either. That a vengeful spirit would attempt to hound, harass, and otherwise drive to destruction someone they felt had wronged that spirit in life was not a strange thing. Frankly, I was surprised such vendettas didn’t happen more often. Yet there was apparently no connection among any of the victims so far, except that they happened to be in the capital at the time they were attacked. Women had died, and men. Young and old. High and low. By all appearances, whatever killed them had struck at random.
I knew that, understood that, even willingly conceded that all the facts as we presently knew and understood them pointed to the random nature of the attacks. I simply did not believe the attacks did not have a purpose. As one lived a life, one came to the inescapable conclusion that either everything was random, or nothing was, and there came a time to choose. I had long since done so, and my choice told me there was meaning here. I could almost smell it. I could almost, yet not quite, touch it.
Unfortunately, all I could do for the moment was wait and hope that, by this evening, Seita had an answer for me. Any answer would do.
The sakura were still in bloom, and I took advantage of my idleness to appreciate a fine spring day on the grounds of Gion Shrine. My idleness did not last nearly as long as I had expected, but I couldn’t say the interruption was unwelcome.
Nidai appeared on the path, carrying a cushion and looking extremely solemn. He bore a large fan thrust through his sash with the handle protruding like a sword. Lady Snow was close behind in a two-layered kimono of blue and red, following demurely as Nidai-kun led the way.
“I must say I’m curious as to how you found me,” I said, “since I told very few people where I would be.” That was a bit of an understatement, as I had told no one save Kanemore.
Lady Snow bowed, and after favoring me with a frown, Nidai did the same. “I have no explanation save for that of a happy coincidence, Lord Yamada,” Lady Snow said. “In truth, I was not looking for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“No, after my morning performance I merely came to appreciate the sakura, as indeed you seem to be doing. May I join you?”
“Certainly,” I said.
Immediately Nidai hurried up with a small brush and proceeded to sweep the leaves and debris from the cobbles nearby. Then he placed the cushion on the cleared space for Lady Snow to kneel.
“That will do for now, Nidai-kun,” she said. “Please make my request to the fish-monger. You have the instructions written down; show that to him if there is any confusion.”
He bowed low. “I will not be long, My Lady.”
She smiled then. “Oh, I think I am safe enough in Lord Yamada’s care. He does not wish me any harm, I think. At least, not yet.”
After Nidai had disappeared down the path I looked at Lady Snow. “Yet?”
“I told you I had not given up,” she said. “So you may expect more attempts to persuade you to my cause.”
“Please understand—I do not take you lightly, Lady Snow. If what you say can be proven, it is my cause as well. I just do not think you have done so as of now, nor is it likely you will be able to.”
She smiled then, covering her face with her fan. “I may yet surprise you.”
“I don’t discount the possibility,” I said. “At present, that is all I can do for you. I am sorry I missed your performance this morning.”
“As am I, since I do not think I will be performing in the city for a while. I will have other matters to attend.”
I frowned. “If you’ll pardon my saying, that house you have taken must be a severe expense. How will you manage, if you spend your time on this quest?”
“I have a patron, Lord Yamada. He prefers that my performances be more . . . private.”
“Yes,” I said. “I would assume so.”
She sighed then. “You think ill of me, I suppose.”
While it was true the news saddened me for reasons I couldn’t quite name, I thought no less of Lady Snow. What I knew of asobi and their lives was no more than what most men of my alleged class knew; they were skilled dancers, singers, and sometimes—more likely, often—courtesans. Rare indeed was the noble outing or moon-viewing party that was not graced with one or two of these entertainers, and quite often several. “Slipping your boat into the reeds” with an asobi was practically a proverb for the culmination of a successful party. She was as life and her opportunities had made her. I had no pretense to greater virtue in my own.
“Why would you think so? I make no claim to know the fit of sandals I’ve never worn. While I do not think my duties the same as yours, I consider patronage a fortunate state on the whole. Are you of a different opinion?”
“With the right patron,” she said, “matters may be better than unpleasant. My master does not ask too much of me. Even so, for his business and my own I
must be away from the capital for a few days. I will want to speak to you when I return.”
I bowed. “Gods willing, I will be here.”
The hour was growing late by the time Nidai returned, and I hastily took my leave of Lady Snow. It occurred to me I had tarried perhaps longer than I should have, but I found myself in no hurry to leave, even though we said very little else to each other for the rest of the time it took Nidai to complete his errand. Yet it was nearly dark when I finally reached Rashamon.
Kenji sat with his back against the gate. “You are late, Lord Yamada.”
“Forgive me, Kenji-san. I was distracted.”
He gave me a sharp look. “By whom, if I may ask?”
“Lady Snow.”
“Ah,” Kenji said. I was rather surprised this was all he said. He used his staff to help lift himself off the ground. “Let’s be off, then.”
Kenji led the way, and I fell into step beside him. “I am surprised,” I said finally.
“At what?”
“At you. No questions? Hectoring?”
“I’m certainly in no position to do so,” Kenji said. “You have been alone for a long time, and that was even before Teiko’s death.”
I scowled. “It’s not like that with Lady Snow. As for Princess Teiko, that matter is closed.”
Kenji just shrugged. “As you say. You were late for our appointment, so I merely asked for the courtesy of an explanation, which you have given. You need not justify your actions to me.”
He was right of course, and I had no one to blame but myself since I had volunteered more than Kenji had asked. I’m not sure why I would not let the matter go. Maybe I wanted him to understand. Maybe I wanted to be sure I did.
“She’s a very talented and beautiful lady. Any man would be glad of her company. In some ways she does remind me of Teiko.”
Kenji grunted. “If you’ll pardon my saying so, Lord Yamada, that’s more than enough reason for caution right there.”
I couldn’t suppress a grin. “I would not argue that point.”
“Are you ready to tell me what you discussed with Lady Snow?”
“Today was little more than polite chat. As for yesterday . . . ” I related the salient bits of my conversation with Lady Snow from the previous day. Kenji looked thoughtful and did not interrupt until it was plain I had no more to say on the matter.
“Interesting. Do you believe her?”
“I know it’s foolish, yet part of me wants to believe that my family fortunes can be resurrected. It’s impossible, but I want to believe it anyway.”
“Because you wish it were so, or because it is Lady Snow telling you these things?”
I thought about that. “I do not know,” I said finally.
Kenji grunted. “That’s honest, at least, not to mention troubling. But until we know her true intentions, it doesn’t hurt to know what she wishes you to believe.”
“She may be telling the truth, at least as she understands it.”
“I concede the possibility,” Kenji said cheerfully, “but no more than that. Now, what about yesterday evening? We have not had the chance to discuss that as yet.”
“You know as much about that as I do,” I said. “You were there.”
“Do you think it a coincidence Munikata’s poor wife died at the border of that cloud-thing’s travel?”
“I concede the possibility,” I said, using Kenji’s own words.
Kenji grunted again. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Neither do I, and I have no more idea of what that creature may be or why it attacked that woman than I had yesterday. It has some of the characteristics of a ghost, in the same sense that a tiger shares some common traits with a house cat. Still, it would be dangerous to confuse the two.”
“I’ve asked Kanemore to question the guards about the night that Taira no Kei was found dead. Perhaps I can confirm that something similar happened then.”
Kenji frowned. “That was a moonless night, if I recall correctly. They might not be able to distinguish one patch of darkness from another. Nor are other folk as sensitive to the presence of spirits as you and I. Still, it is worth trying,” Kenji said. “Yet suppose they saw the cloud or darkness or something as well. What then?”
“Then we can associate this thing with two deaths. Even if we still do not know for certain that the creature, whatever it is, was responsible. Still, it would be the prudent wager and I think we’d be wise to proceed with that in mind.”
“I agree,” Kenji said. “Though I’ll admit I’m very curious to hear what Master Seita has to say on the matter.”
“As am I.” Indeed, I realized that, as the conversation progressed, the more anxious I was becoming. Everything Kenji or I said just emphasized to me how very little we did know, and how much we needed the sort of information Seita had proved himself capable of providing time and time again.
We reached Seita’s ruined compound shortly thereafter and proceeded through the broken wall, then into the overgrown garden to Seita’s bridge.
“Seita-san!”
We waited, but the red lantern did not appear. I called again, with the same result. I pulled out one of the bags of uncooked rice to give him the scent, but even that made no difference. The moments dragged by, and still Seita did not appear.
“Is he in hiding?” Kenji asked.
“Possibly. He was uncharacteristically nervous the last time I saw him. Can you do a conjuration?”
Kenji grunted. “My talents are mostly in the realm of protection against spirits, moving undetected among spirits, and banishing spirits. I’m not so well-versed in the art of summoning them. It’s a foolish conceit, as most respectable people know. Indeed, you’ll find very little call for that, even among the bereaved.”
I should have realized this was so. Seita’s long presence at his family’s former estates notwithstanding, the proper goal of any bereaved family was to make as certain as possible the departed’s spirit had been properly sent out of this world and on to the next, to be judged as their karma demanded. To do otherwise was a failure of obligation.
Calling a spirit to one was a different matter altogether, and such summonings were more into the realm of Chinese and Daoist magic than Buddhist. I did know one or two practitioners of the Chinese arts whom I dealt with when need dictated, but it never occurred to me that I might require their services to track down Seita. He was more wont to appear when he wasn’t needed than to disappear when he was.
I was contemplating crossing the bridge and looking for Seita, both beneath it and on the other side, when Kenji frowned and kneeled down at the foot of the bridge, sniffing like a hound.
“What are you doing?”
I’m not even sure Kenji heard me at first. He was sniffing about and muttering to himself almost as one deranged. He finally gave out what I could only interpret as a shout of triumph and picked up a small scrap of paper. He sniffed this too.
“Kenji-san, would you mind telling me what you’re on about?”
“Camphorwood. Cinnamon. Both were burned as incense here. The first is easy enough to obtain, but the second is dear, indeed. Obviously I’ve never used it myself, but I’ve been told of its efficacy more than once.”
“Efficacy in what?”
“Exorcism,” Kenji said, as he finally stood back up and brushed off the dirt. “A rite of exorcism has been performed here.”
“Seita?” It was a foolish question, but I had to ask it, and Kenji confirmed my fears.
“Almost certainly, Lord Yamada. Seita has been banished from this world.”
I felt cold. “But why? He wasn’t harming anyone.”
Kenji shrugged. “I don’t know. I do know that, whoever it was, must have wanted it done a great deal. The supplies used were precious and whoever performed the rite was a master. Neither would have come cheaply.”
“Which could also mean whoever was involved had no need to worry about the expense,” I said. “Yet I’ve seen you do exorcisms before, Kenji-
san. You used only the proper sutras and prayer. There was no burning of incense.”
Kenji sighed and rubbed the stubble on his head. “Because both the correct prayer and the correct sutra are easily obtained at the cost of a little time for study, which is usually all I have to spend. My methods are not the only ones.”
“It would seem so.”
So much for my hopes for some sign of a coming dawn; with Seita gone, I was pretty much back where I began.
“You don’t suppose Seita’s exorcism is simply a coincidence?”
“I concede the possibility,” I said grudgingly. “But only just. Who knew about Seita? I mean, specifically my connection to him?”
“If you’re looking for culprits, you’d best start with me,” Kenji said. “I knew. And more, I have the skills required to do the deed.”
I almost laughed. “And if you’d been paid to do so with the wasteful methods indicated, you’d have used your own methods and kept the difference.”
“My clients are fools sometimes,” Kenji said. “I try not to be.” It was as close to an admission as he was going to make, but I didn’t need confirmation.
“So that leaves Kanemore,” I said, though it did cause me some discomfort to put the thought into words. “At least, of the ones I know for certain. It’s possible there are others, if someone really wanted to find out.”
“Kanemore certainly has the means, if not the skills,” Kenji said thoughtfully. “You don’t seriously suspect the prince had the rite performed? Would he do such a thing?”
That was the question I knew I needed to ask, but unlike so many others lately it was one I could answer. “Prince Kanemore serves a purpose higher than his own interests,” I said, “and if banishing Seita or killing you, or me, or a hundred better served that purpose, he’d do it with perhaps regret but absolutely no hesitation. Yet I can’t imagine what reason he might have. Especially now, if it’s true that Seita had information that might protect Takahito. I simply do not see cause.”
To Break the Demon Gate Page 11