by Dave Gross
I'd seen something like that in one of my favorite Trick Alley brothels. The working girls there elected a new boss every year, never the same twice in a row, and they hired no men to be their pimps. They took care of trouble themselves. It helped that they usually employed a sorcerer or two, and a couple of tough gals who came up in my neighborhood, scrapping and stealing to get by.
Seeing the muscle here confirmed my guess that, if the geisha were hiding anyone important, I'd find him in the inner court.
Four open passages connected this central path to the inner garden. After the geisha and their guards disappeared into the inner building, I led Kazuko into the center of the Flower and Willow Pavilion.
The place was bigger than I'd estimated. In addition to the seven willow trees, we found two tiny buildings and a small pond with a tiny bridge. The windows of both buildings were dark, but the door to one of them was tied shut with a thick red cord.
The cords on the other doors hadn't been tied, just draped over the knobs. I was getting a hunch.
I listened at the door but heard nothing. The knot in the cord looked elaborate. I tried to memorize its ins and outs so I could put it back the way I'd found it after I had a peek inside.
"Stop!" called a woman's voice. Two geisha hurried toward us, crossing the little bridge in long strides that showed their gowns weren't so tight after all. They weren't the ones I'd spotted earlier, but I knew these were the guards, not the performing geisha.
Dammit, I thought. I dropped my boots, drew the big knife.
One of the geisha guards drew a dart from her hair. It was longer than I'd guessed, and the gleam of moonlight promised a sharp tip. She said, "You have no right to disturb the water-raising ceremony."
I slit the red cord and slid open the door to the little room. "Oops," I said. "I slipped."
I turned, not sure exactly what I expected to see. A man and woman playing patty cakes, maybe. Matano alone, hiding from the assassins or the constables. No such luck.
The little room was barely bigger than the thick mattress on the floor. A stylized white demon mask with a long wig of silk hair hung on the wall beside a colorful robe. Nearby stood low tables holding up candles that looked like they'd been burning only a short time before getting snuffed.
They weren't the only things that had been snuffed.
The naked man—Matano, I figured—was another story. He'd been skinned only to the waist, but he'd been stripped deep. A wide, irregular shape was missing from the skin of his back, the deep borders dark with blood that streamed into pools in the furrows of the mattress.
There was no other entrance to the little house. Three little windows let in the moonlight, but none was much bigger than my open hand. I wanted a better look, but the geisha guards closed in. I turned to face them.
They held up their darts, poised to throw.
I raised my curved Chelish knife and showed them the big smile. If one didn't impress them, I hoped the other would.
Chapter Four: The Raccoon Dog
It don't have to be this way, doll face."
The first geisha threw her darts. I could have sidestepped, but Kazuko stood behind me. If I moved, she'd take the hit.
Instead I leaned back, pushing Kazuko down as I swept the big knife across what I was betting was the dart's path.
Desna smiled. Two darts missed me completely. The third sang off the side of my knife. I felt it hit my jacket, but it caught in the leather without scratching my pretty copper skin.
Kazuko hustled away, not into the love house with its bloody corpse, but toward the pond in the center of the Flower and Willow Pavilion. I couldn't decide whether that was smart or stupid. The house was a dead end, but now she was out in the open.
The second geisha guard drew a dagger from her sleeve and moved toward Kazuko. With my off hand, I flicked a dart at her. It pierced her skirt and pinned it to the ground. That was perfect. It wasn't her blood I wanted. It was her undivided attention.
Her partner tumbled toward me, producing a couple of daggers as she rolled up to strike. I saw it coming and swept her ankles. She went down where I'd meant to put her. I knelt hard on one wrist and grabbed the other to control her blades. A little grinding and she let go.
"Drop it," I told the other geisha. I'd heard her rip free the hem of her gown. Her shadow approached me, but I didn't look up. I leaned close to the one I'd caught, gave her a good look at my teeth. Her sweat mingled with the smell of jasmine, and I thought of a half-dozen other wrestling moves I'd prefer to try out with her.
"Izumi, do as he says."
The second geisha dropped her knives and stepped back. Behind her, Kazuko looked on from the edge of the tiny bridge. Her mouth formed an O of surprise or fear. I hoped I hadn't put her off with the big smile. After all that hard work bringing her around, it would be a shame to waste it.
I got up and offered a hand to the geisha I'd knocked down. "I'm not here to hurt anybody. Call your madame. She's the one who's got some explaining to do."
But Madame Chiyoko didn't need calling. Before the geisha could speak, her boss arrived with mine. Takeda, his samurai, and four more pretty guards came with them.
The geisha accepted my hand. I pulled her up into a brief embrace. I whispered a sweet something to make her blush and watched out of the corner of my eye for Kazuko's reaction. She didn't like it one bit.
I was in.
"How dare you send this foreign devil to break into our private garden?" Madame Chiyoko turned on Takeda, her voice rising like a siren as she built up a good mad. The inspector wasn't looking at her, though. He looked past me at the flayed corpse of Matano Hideo, the actor we'd come to find.
The guy Chiyoko told us wasn't here.
Takeda's face remained calm. As the boss moved into the love house for a look at the body, the inspector stood still. His eyes focused past the crime scene. I'd seen that look a thousand times before, usually on the boss's face. Takeda was looking back at a memory.
Beside him, Chiyoko wailed more abuse until Osamu whirled on her.
"Be silent, you shameful woman!"
His shout made her pause. When she opened her mouth again, he raised his hand to strike her. Before the blow could fall, she dropped to the ground, kowtowing at his feet.
"You must show respect," bellowed Osamu. "You have no right—!"
Shiro moved to one side, catching Osamu's eye. Trembling mad, Osamu glanced at his partner, who shook his head.
Osamu lowered his hand and turned away, still shaking. It had to be more than Chiyoko's lie or her rudeness that made him so angry, but I couldn't figure it without knowing more. And it didn't seem the right time to ask.
I retrieved the dart I'd thrown but kept one eye on the samurai. Kazuko joined me in watching the others.
Takeda conferred with the boss beside Matano's body, while Shiro stepped between Osamu and Chiyoko to question the geisha madame.
No wonder the little guy's so happy.
She confessed that she knew Matano was inside. Tonight was the occasion of something called the water-raising ceremony. In return for his financial sponsorship, the wealthy actor had come to take the virginity of the house's newest geisha.
At that bit of news, I raised an eyebrow at Kazuko. I didn't say "whorehouse," but she read it on my face.
"It is not the same." She jutted her lip in defiance. I wanted to bite it, nice and soft.
"The honorable Matano was dead when the girl arrived," said Chiyoko. She had transformed since Osamu yelled at her. Instead of avarice, fear colored her face. "The reputation of the house was at stake! We dared not call for the constables."
"You planned to cover it up?" said Shiro. The younger constable sounded calm, but his lip twitched. "How?"
Chiyoko pressed her forehead onto the ground at his feet. She whimpered, "Please."
"Tell me," Shiro insisted.
"I dare not."
"Say it!" He scuffed his foot, threatening to kick her head.
Chiyoko whispered, "The Kappas."
Osamu clutched the scabbard of his katana and charged Chiyoko. He might have drawn the blade and beheaded her, but Shiro stepped between them. The anger on his own face told Osamu that he felt the same way, but he wouldn't let the older man kill the witness.
The boss and Takeda finished in the love house. Osamu opened his mouth to report, but Takeda beckoned him to follow as he walked past Chiyoko. I fell in, Kazuko at my side.
As we wound through the inner and outer halls of the Flower and Willow Pavilion, geisha knelt outside the door to every room. They bowed low, turning as we passed. Not at the group of us, I could tell.
They bowed their heads toward Takeda.
Even as we exited onto the street, more geisha emerged to pay their respects. Takeda ignored them, or pretended to. Arnisant joined us at the gate, heeling to me when I gave him the sign. I fed him the rest of the sausage I'd promised. The boss heard the hound's jaws snap closed. He looked back at us—he doesn't like me feeding Arnisant except for training—but Arni and I put on our innocent faces. Arni's is better than mine.
Takeda didn't stop until we reached the line of rickshaws. When he turned, I could see he'd spent some effort composing his face. Whatever the problem with Madame Chiyoko, it bothered him more than he wanted us to know.
"We were too late," said Takeda. "I must inform Lord Koga immediately of my failure."
Osamu said, "Sir, it is not your fault—"
Takeda silenced him with a glance.
"In my absence, you must guide the honorable Count Jeggare to the Seahorse to look for Square-Head. After I report, I shall learn the address of this moneylender. Theirs are the last of the six tattoos the Kappas seek. Shiro, escort the housemaid to her home."
He said a few more things, but they stopped making sense, so I stopped listening.
Instead, I tried to figure out a way to keep Kazuko with us. I didn't like the idea of her being out of sight. Even forgetting my personal angle, these Kappas might want to eliminate her as a witness to the murder of Yamana.
"Listen," I said. "It's probably better to keep Kazuko nearby. Maybe we'll find some clue that relates to whatever she learned working for Yamana, and she can—what?"
Everyone stared at me. I checked to see whether I had something on my nose.
"What?"
"The language spell has expired," said the boss. "None of the others can understand you."
"All right," I said. "Hit me with another one."
He shook his head. "Not yet. I have only one more prepared. It is prudent to wait until you truly need to speak before casting it. Who knows how long this investigation will last?"
"But I want to say goodbye to Kazuko."
"A trifling matter compared with our pursuit of the killer and the recovery of the pearl husk I have been sent to recover," he said. "Besides, past experience suggests you needn't speak the language to communicate with women."
He had a point, but I still didn't like it.
He spoke to the others in Minkaian. I saw from their expressions that he'd explained what happened. They finished their conversation without another look at me. It was as if I had disappeared. I didn't matter anymore.
I sidled up to Kazuko, but Shiro abruptly led her away. She glanced over her shoulder, and I saw the disappointment on her face.
"Me, too, sweetheart." I blew her a kiss. She didn't blush. She didn't look away.
I was going to have to find out where she lived and pay a visit when this was all settled.
Takeda sat in a rickshaw and told the lackey to go, leaving Osamu to lead the boss and me to the Seahorse district.
We hustled down the hills of Oda toward the shore we'd seen earlier. The boss filled me in on the way.
"The man known colloquially as Square-Head is a well-known member of the Snake Gang. He often gambles well into the night at an establishment called the Raccoon Dog. I will renew the translation spell on you just before we enter. You will take the lead."
"Got it." The boss usually sent me into dives alone, but sometimes he came along to observe in disguise. It was best that I did the talking in those cases. Street and dive were not, as the boss might say, foremost in his repertoire. "While we're talking Taldane," I said with a nod at Osamu, "what was all that between Chiyoko and Takeda?"
The boss thought about the question for a moment as we jogged behind the samurai. "It is difficult to explain."
"You're always saying I'm smarter than I look."
"It is not a question of intelligence," he said. "It is a question of rank. There is an implied code of discretion among nobles, even those of different lands."
I gritted my teeth. After our last caper, I didn't think we were going to have to do this again.
"I know nothing concrete," he added in a tone kind of but not really like an apology. "Only conjecture based on my observations filtered through my limited understanding of the native hierarchy. Still, it is not my place to discuss what might be Takeda's secret outside of our... that is, with a member..."
"With a commoner." Weeks ago he'd called me his friend for the first time. I'd wondered how long that'd last. Now I had my answer.
He winced before correcting me, "With anyone outside the samurai caste."
I'm the goddamned Prince of Wolves, I thought. But I could never say it. It was a secret I had to keep. Still, it was a hell of a lot more irritating for these counts and samurai to look down on me when I knew that if things had gone down different back in the bad old days, they'd be bowing to me.
We saved the rest of our breath for the run. The boss was half winded by the time Osamu stopped at the end of a narrow street filled with drunks, rickshaw porters, and beggars. An old man pushing a cook-cart called out in Minkaian. Everyone but the beggars ignored him, and he swatted them away as they reached for bowls, hoping he'd fill them out of charity.
People streamed in and out of several of the buildings. Music and laughter came from one. Shouts and the clatter of dice echoed in another. Osamu pointed at that one.
Beside the entrance stood a statue of a comical animal. It looked like a cross between a dog and a badger, but the stripes painted on its smiling cheeks gave it a raccoon's face. What really made it stand out were a pair of giant testicles hanging between its legs. They were so big the bottoms rested on the ground. Those entering the house paused to rub the critter's balls, revealing bright brass underneath the paint.
Lucky dog. I figured him for one of Desna's and knelt down to give his nuggets a good rub. Curious, Arnisant came over and gave the brass balls a sniff.
"Radovan!" The boss choked. "Some decorum, please."
"Just praying, boss."
He scowled until I stood again. When he turned back to the samurai, I pointed at Arni.
"Stop getting us in trouble."
The wolfhound planted his butt and looked up at me, hoping for a treat. I was out of snacks.
Osamu and the boss wrapped up their conversation. The constable strolled casual-like down the street, pretending to be out on patrol and putting on a brave face when some of the bolder beggars heckled him. They weren't afraid of a lone constable.
"Where's he going?"
"There is an informal agreement between the constabulary and the local gangs. Osamu cannot enter a gambling den without permission from the gang chief."
"I like this town more and more." Zandros the Fair could never get a deal like that from the Hellknights in Egorian. Either the samurai were weaker than I thought, or else the gangs were stronger.
"While I attempt to locate this Square-Head, you blend in and distract any locals who take an interest in us."
"Which one you want? Blend in or distract?"
"Time is of the essence, Radovan. Do as I say."
The hairs on my neck turned to needles.
"Fine."
The boss riffled his scroll at me. My tongue tickled, and I sneezed. He put away the expended scroll and gave Arnisant the signal to stay. I p
ushed through the door to the gambling den.
Inside the place was thick with smoke. Some of it rolled off braziers hanging from the ceiling. Some crawled up out of long brass pipes a few of the players held close to their mouths. I didn't recognize the sweet smell, but I could tell from the smokers' half-lidded eyes that it was some naughty stuff.
There were no women inside. Most of the men went shirtless or had their sleeves rolled up to show off tattoos. I'd never seen so many before. They weren't just simple snakes and briars around the biceps or some girl's name inside Shelyn's glaive. On all the exposed skin I saw a regular menagerie of fierce animals and magical creatures, along with knives, dice, chains, cards, darts, and all the other tools of the trade.
One thing I saw a lot was snake tattoos. Each of the men handling the dice and tiles had one, as did about half of the gamblers and the thick-necked guys standing by the doors.
Some of the older men stood around a couple of tall square tables with edges a few inches high. There they played some kind of tile game, with each gambler concealing a dozen or so tiles and adding them one at a time to a maze in the middle of the table.
The other tables were low ovals, and the younger players knelt around them. These ones placed bets as a guy in the middle dropped a pair of dice into a bowl and slapped it onto the table's surface before making a dramatic reveal. He shouted, "Odd!"
I had to be missing something, but there weren't any places painted on the table. I watched for another round or two before deciding it was as simple as it looked. The players were betting against each other, hoping to be in the minority who came away with a pittance while the house claimed the rest.
And the house was raking it in.
"You, foreign devil!" cried a man with copper skin even darker than mine. He had no idea how right he was. "Show your money or get the hell out!"
Only then did I realize I didn't have any of the local coins. The ones on the tables were mostly copper and silver, perforated with a square in the center. I made three big gold coins appear between my knuckles.