by Dave Gross
We left Arnisant to stand sentinel in the yard. If anything bigger than a squirrel put its head over the wall, he'd let us know. I sat in the kitchen with Kazuko as she boiled water for tea. It was ready by the time the other men returned. They accepted the porcelain cups without looking at her.
When it was my turn—last, of course—I nodded over the cup to thank Kazuko. She blushed and looked away. She'd come around.
The boss and Takeda consulted the list of tattoo artists, marking their locations on the map. Comparing them with the sites of the murders, they narrowed the list to nine.
"It is possible that the murdered men went to an artist outside of their district," said Takeda. "That is assuming they received their tattoos from the same source." His voice was weary, like he was all too used to running down dead leads.
"Indeed," said the count. "Yet when time is of the essence, we must explore the probable before the merely possible."
Takeda nodded agreement. "Here." He pointed to one of the marks indicating a tattoo shop. "This is the Felicitous Moon. Its owner is known throughout the city for the quality of his work."
"Is his price high?"
Takeda nodded.
"Yamada was a man of substantial means. What of the other victims?"
"Both were wealthy."
"And yet there was no evidence of theft at any of the murder scenes?"
Takeda shook his head. "The absence of other robbery convinced me the thieves are after the tattoos alone."
"The people of Oda are fortunate to have such a man as you investigating this crime."
Takeda bowed. "If you and your man do not have pressing business elsewhere, perhaps you would be so good as to accompany me to the Felicitous Moon. I would be grateful if you would offer your advice as we proceed with the investigation."
They weren't fooling me with this little pantomime, but Takeda's men looked impressed. They stood a little straighter, proud in the reflected glory of the boss's compliment. I'd have bet a fat purse that the boss and Takeda arranged this mummery while the guards were busy elsewhere. Or maybe guys like them just knew when to put on the show.
While the boss protested that we would only be in the way—a ruse even Shiro and Osamu saw through—I watched Kazuko. She had become still once she saw that we were about to leave her there alone.
"Want me to walk her home?" I asked the boss. Only then did I realize the problem: I didn't know the way to this tattoo shop. It would have to be one of Takeda's men.
He considered the question for a moment before addressing Takeda. "Were there witnesses to the previous murders?"
Takeda pinched his lower lip. "I take your meaning." He looked at his men, and I could see each of them trying to make himself less conspicuous than his partner. "I need at least one of my men to maintain this site."
"Please do not trouble yourselves," said Kazuko.
"No," said Takeda. "It is best you remain with us until I can assign protectors to watch over you."
Kazuko accepted his decision by lowering her gaze.
"We shall await you outside the gate," said the boss.
Beyond Yamada's garden was a narrow lane bordered on one side by high brick walls, on the other by a row of single-story houses. The moonlight turned the roof tiles blue, but I could barely see past the flared edges. I looked straight up, and Desna smiled on me. There was her Stair of Stars. My gaze climbed it to Cynosure, the pole star, and I got my bearings.
To the north the alley disappeared into darkness, although I could make out a cat prowling east to west at the end. To the south was a wider street full of narrow townhouses.
"Questions?" asked the boss. He likes to quiz me during a case, to see how well I'm keeping up.
"I'm good," I said. "You want to know what a yeti is?"
Takeda clearly has the respect of his men—and for good reason.
He started to answer before realizing I was having a joke.
"This is not the time for levity," he said. "Our only contact is dead, and there is no sign of the pearl in his house."
"The pearl?"
"It is the pleasure of my... superiors," he nearly choked on the word, "that we recover a rare magical pearl. Or rather, the husk of a pearl that once held a powerful magic, now expended."
"What for?"
"It was deemed unnecessary to supply us with the details."
"Huh," I said. "I guess you pissed off some high mucky-muck in your little club."
He glowered. "Not the time for levity."
"Got it."
"What is your impression of Takeda?"
"I like him. He doesn't seem too crafty, but he's smart. He's tired, but it doesn't make him irritable. His men look to him."
The boss nodded. He often already knows my opinion, but he likes to hear it all the same. He grew up in a high tower, me in the gutter. We see things from different angles, and he likes to compare the difference when there is one. He calls it "triangulating."
"Did you notice his wakizashi?"
The spell that let me understand the local lingo also let me know that word meant the shorter of the two blades the other men wore. "Yeah, he doesn't have the long one. Maybe he lost it in a bet."
"No, the katana is not only a weapon but a sign of station. Takeda and his men are samurai, knights."
"Knights lose at dice."
"Samurai do not lose their katanas."
"Maybe he likes fighting close-up." That's another difference between the boss and me. He fights at the end of a long blade. I like the personal touch.
"What of the housekeeper?"
"Kazuko? She's cute as a bug. I think she likes me."
He sighed. "I mean, what is your impression of her testimony?"
I knew what he meant. "She seems straight enough. Scared, but not so much that I figure she's putting it on."
"She left the house to summon the constabulary," said the boss. "Upon finding her employer dead, she could have removed the pearl to a hiding place."
"In that case, why did she come back?"
He shot me a disappointed look, but I got it. "Sure, sure, to throw us off the scent. But what would a servant girl need with some magic—or formerly magic—pearl? You'd expect her to steal something she could use or fence."
The boss, like his peers, tends to suspect the servants first.
A sound on the nearest roof alerted me to the intruder. The boss heard it too, but before his hand could touch his sword, I whipped him around against the wall, under the sheltering eaves.
That move made me his shield against the second attacker, the one we hadn't heard. Metal struck divots in the bricks to either side of me. Three solid blows hit me in the neck and shoulder. I glimpsed one of them out of the corner of my vision.
It was a throwing star the size of a biscuit.
Arnisant barked to wake the moon.
The boss dipped low and stepped to his right. A riffle scroll in his hand came alive, shooting a beam of white flame under my arm and across the alley. It struck a figure crouching on the opposite wall. The fire lit up his black clothes and washed over his leather mask.
There was something eerie about that mask. Its surface was irregular but all black. I couldn't make out the details.
His target marked, Arnisant leaped at our attacker. The wolfhound was big enough to put his paws on my shoulders and look down at me. His jaws snapped at the man's hands. Startled, the masked man fell back behind the wall, slapping at the flames.
The big knife was in my hand, a pair of throwing knives in the other. I turned my back on the boss and scanned the wall for any other movement. Seeing none, I whirled diagonally away to have a look at the roof. Two more figures knelt there.
One fired a little bow. I swept out my arm to deflect an arrow, but instead a hard lead ball deadened my wrist. I lost the big knife.
The second figure flung more stars. One tugged at my jacket as it passed through the leather.
"Ninja!" yelled Shiro. Through the boss's spe
ll, I understood the word to mean "spy," "assassin," and something more than either of those words. Shiro and Osamu rushed out of Yamada's yard, each drawing his katana. Behind them, Takeda pushed Kazuko behind the shelter of the gate and raised his wakizashi over his head.
His sword drawn and a riffle scroll in his other hand, the boss moved toward me, but I waved him back.
I flicked my knives at the archer. One hit, but I saw the other wink in the moonlight as it flew past. The hit didn't drop the man, but it spoiled his aim. Shiro cursed as another lead shot cracked off the pavement at his feet.
Osamu fumbled with a whistle he wore on a string around his neck, but by the time the shrill note woke the neighborhood, the assassins were gone. We withdrew to Yamada's yard and stood near the gate. Arnisant followed close behind. He coughed up a pair of black-gloved fingers. I kicked them away before he could gobble them up again.
The boss opened my jacket and eased a ragged dart out of my neck. It hurt worse coming out than it had going in. He examined the star and took a whiff of it.
"Not poisoned," he said, sniffing again. "Probably."
"Terrific."
More constables' whistles answered Shiro's call. Judging from the sound, they were close.
I shrugged off my jacket to let the boss remove the other darts without spoiling the leather. Kazuko tore strips off her hem to bandage me.
"You don't have to," I said, but it was too late. And it was a good thing she'd done it, because my bleeding was, as the boss might say, copious.
The count gave me a crystal flask the size of my thumb. It was one of the healing potions he'd had me buy in Absalom.
"You sure?" I knew how much they'd cost.
"Drink it," he said. "And pray we do not need them all before this night is through."
Chapter Two: The Felicitous Moon
As we left our contact's house, I realized how bad it was that Yamana Hisao was dead. The Pathfinders in Absalom sent us to the Minkai conjurer so he could teleport us back after we'd fetched his magic pearl.
I whispered to the boss, "Who's going to send us back to Absalom?" His lips tightened, but he didn't say anything.
We were screwed.
I rubbed the back of my neck and shoulder where the throwing stars had hit me. The wounds had shrunk to chubby little scars, but I felt the tender bruises underneath. After giving me the healing potion, the boss suggested lighting me up would have had the same effect.
The boss once saved my life by dropping a fireball on me to incinerate a swarm of undead. Not only didn't the spell kill me, but it healed my broken back. The problem is that enough fire burns away my good looks and cool temper.
All things being equal, I'd rather drink a potion.
We hustled down the hill to the lower districts of Oda. Along every third or fourth street, yellow lamps bobbed ahead of the watchmen's shadows. Cresting the hill, we saw the ocean half a mile away, the water a black mirror to the sky, the stars winking at their reflections. The shore was brighter still, with hundreds of lanterns forming constellations on the land.
"There lies the thirteenth district, the Seahorse." Inspector Takeda paused to gesture at the bright area. A strip of land curled out into the ocean, fading into a coiling sandbar exposed by the retreating tide. Black piers jutted from the beach, where hundreds of fishing boats lay on the sand.
"Where is the tattoo shop?" asked the boss.
Takeda indicated a spot halfway along the slope between us and the Seahorse. He set a brisk pace. The boss, Arnisant, and I had no trouble matching his speed, but I worried about Kazuko. The housekeeper's wooden clogs sounded like a drum roll on the pavestones. She managed to stay exactly eight steps behind the inspector. She'd hitched up her robes, revealing a couple of inches of skin above those cute little toe-socks. She saw me looking, and I threw her the little smile. She returned her gaze to the street.
Takeda's men Shiro and Osamu watched our backs in case the ninja came back for another go. They'd acted spooked ever since the attack. Despite their identical clothes and haircuts, the constables didn't look much alike. Osamu was ten years older, with a scar on his lip over a missing tooth. The way they held their swords steady as they jogged reminded me of what the boss had said about Takeda's missing katana. If it was such an important symbol of his samurai status, I had to agree that it was weird he didn't have one.
Since Takeda's boys had our backs, I kept an eye on the rooftops. The only prowlers I spied were a couple of cats. A mangy orange tom hissed at Arnisant. The wolfhound ignored the challenge, so I hissed back for him. The cat yowled at the sight of my teeth.
Most of the single-story houses were wood with paper windows, but every third building had a stone wall between it and its neighbor. I didn't need the boss to explain why. Back in Egorian, letting your house burn down earns you a beggaring fine. The penalty grows worse with every neighboring home destroyed. After three or four, you end up on the tines.
Takeda rounded a corner and slowed. The row houses gave way to shops. The boss's spell let me speak and understand the local lingo, but I couldn't read the signs. Even so, I knew our destination as soon as I saw the crescent moon sign tattooed with the images of a fancy dragon and unicorn. The Felicitous Moon.
Takeda banged on the door, calling up to the second-floor balcony. "Wake up! Wake up! By the authority of Lord Koga, I command you to open the door."
He kept up the racket, but no one called down. I didn't see any lights on the other side of the closed windows.
Takeda pulled the latch, but the door was locked tight. He glanced at Osamu, who bowed and ran around to the back. Takeda banged on the door and repeated his commands. From the other side of the row houses, Osamu called out, "Locked!"
Takeda frowned. "Perhaps Ichisada spends the night elsewhere. We shall move on to the next tattoo shop and return here tomorrow."
The boss raised his head and inhaled through his nose. He moved closer to the door and sniffed again. Half-elves are known for sharp hearing, but the boss's nose is at least as keen as his ears. I couldn't smell anything but the faint odors of charcoal and roast pork. Arnisant's stomach rumbled. Ropes of saliva dribbled from his jaws. The drooling was the wolfhound's one really unattractive trait.
"Inspector," said the boss. "I suspect we shall find Ichisada inside, yet unable to answer his door."
Takeda turned to Shiro. "Fetch a locksmith."
"There is no need for such a delay," said the boss. He gestured to me. "With your permission..."
Takeda hesitated a moment before nodding. I slipped a feeler and the snake rake from my sleeve. Tipping a wink to Kazuko, who stood behind Takeda, all cute and demure, I knelt before the door.
"Radovan once worked as a locksmith," the boss said.
It wasn't exactly a lie. Anyway, Takeda didn't complain.
The boss twisted his ring to produce a bright light in the cup of his hand. He held it over the lock to give me a better view. I didn't need it to pick the lock, but it never hurts. I can't see colors in the dark, and it's good to be able to spot the indigo stain of black lotus extract or the sheen of sassone leaf residue.
The keyhole didn't look much different from those back home. There was no cover, and the cylinder was nice and roomy. I ran the feeler inside and counted four pins. The shear line was too ragged to rake open, but it wouldn't take long to crack the hard way. I lay down the tools, slipped a half-diamond pick and torsion wrench from my boot.
As I trapped the first pin, I felt a little more spring than I expected. A funny feeling tickled in my gut.
"Step back a bit, will you, boss?"
He moved away, still holding up his palm to light the door.
So this is what was worth torturing a man to death for.
The trap slit was in the first place I looked, half an inch from the surface in the doorframe to my right. I looked up, left, and back down, checking for others. The boss realized what I was doing and followed my gaze with his light. We did it again to be sure. Th
en he held the light to the side, illuminating the slit. Inside I saw the razor edge of a spring-bound blade. Sure enough, it glistened with a ruddy paste. I didn't recognize the stuff. The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
"Give me the small and medium hooks," I said, still holding the first pin half-triggered. "Upper left sleeve, inside."
The boss had to search for a second, since it was a new jacket, but he got the picks without jostling me. He popped them in my mouth like a pair of slim cigars. Careful, I offered him the torsion wrench and half-diamond. He held them steady, and I let go.
"What is it?" Osamu panted after his sprint back from the rear. Shiro shushed him.
I ignored the junior constables and turned my attention to the trap. I probed with the hooks until I found a couple of narrow wedge points. I wiggled the hooks until they were nice and tight before taking the lock picks back from the boss.
The rest was easy, except for the tense second when I triggered the lock. The door swung open an inch, and the hooks trembled as they held the blade trap in place. Behind me, Shiro and Osamu sighed in relief.
Takeda stepped forward to push open the door, but the boss stopped him. "A moment more, Inspector. To be safe."
What he meant was I should go first. After all, I'm the bodyguard.
I checked the door for tripwires or any other surprises. Finding none, I pushed it open and peered around.
Inside was a tiny lobby. Dozens of scrolls hung on the walls, each depicting a tattoo design: demons, courtesans, soldiers, swords, tigers, snakes, sharks, octopuses, falcons, ogres, phoenixes, unicorns, dragons—lots of dragons. Thick straw mats covered the floor. To one side lay a clutter of empty cabinet drawers. Torn books, scrolls, and single pages formed a mound on top of them.
I crept over and pushed aside a curtain to see into the next room. It took me a few seconds to speak after seeing the source of the odor we'd detected. It wasn't pork.
"I think this is our guy."