The Assassin's Touch

by Laura Joh Rowland

“Shut up! Get lost, or I’ll cut her right now!”

  Yugao drew the blade across Tama’s throat. A thin line of blood welled. Tama squealed louder, her eyes shut tight, her hands clawing at Yugao’s arm. Despair sickened Reiko. Hirata said, “It’s no use. She’s not going to give up. And I can’t let her force us to back off. I’m sending the team after her.”

  “Wait,” Reiko pleaded, although she knew Hirata’s decision was justified. Tama was a mere female commoner whose death might be a small price to pay for the capture of a murderess and an assassin; yet Reiko couldn’t forsake the sweet, innocent girl. Information from Tama had led Sano to the Ghost’s identity. Reiko owed her better than to sacrifice her to the hunt for Kobori. “Give me one more chance.”

  “Just one more,” Hirata reluctantly agreed.

  Reiko called to Yugao, “I don’t think you’re stupid. I know you’re smart enough to understand that holding Tama hostage won’t protect your lover. My husband is out here, and he’s determined to catch Kobori. He’ll gladly sacrifice Tama to get to him. So let her go.” She drew a deep breath and spoke the only words that might save Tama: “Take me in her place.”

  “What?” Hirata exclaimed. He stared at Reiko.

  Suspicion drew Yugao’s eyebrows together in a frown. “Why would 1 want you?”

  “Because if you have me, the soldiers won’t touch you,” Reiko said. “I’m their master’s wife. If they should kill me while trying to arrest you or your lover, they’ll be in big trouble.”

  Yugao considered the proposal for a mere instant, then said, “All right.” She apparently believed Reiko’s logic even though she didn’t trust Reiko. “You come up here. Then I’ll let Tama go.”

  As Reiko stepped forward, Hirata said in a furious whisper, “You can’t do this!”

  “I must.” Reiko paused and turned to him. Keeping her voice low so that Yugao wouldn’t hear, she said, “Yugao is my responsibility to capture. If she kills again, the blood will be on my hands.”

  “It’ll be your own blood!” Hirata gazed at her as if she’d gone mad. “She’ll kill you!”

  “No, she won’t,” Reiko said. “I can handle her.” She’d faced down crazed murderers in the past and survived. Confidence braced Reiko against the dread that flowed, cold and daunting, through her veins. The dagger strapped to her arm gave her courage as she put her foot on the stairs.

  “Stop,” Yugao said. “Lift your skirts. Put your arms up. I want to make sure you’re not carrying any weapons. Turn around.”

  Reiko had underestimated Yugao’s intelligence. After a moment’s hesitation, she obeyed while clutching the hems of her sleeves, trying to conceal the dagger.

  “Open your hands,” Yugao ordered. “Push down your sleeves.” After Reiko did, Yugao said, “Throw away that knife.”

  As Reiko reluctantly unstrapped her weapon, Hirata said, “Chamberlain Sano ordered me to guard you. I won’t let you do it.” Reiko flung down the dagger. He seized her arm. “I’ll stop you by force if I must. It’s my duty.”

  But his pleading gaze told Reiko that he was bluffing; he could never bring himself to use force on her. She gently disengaged herself. “If I refuse to be guarded, my husband won’t blame you. Don’t worry.”

  “You can come up now,” Yugao said.

  “What about your duty to your husband? Don’t you think you should honor his wishes?” Hirata demanded. Reiko knew that under any other circumstances he would never dare address her in such a brazen manner, let alone contradict her. But he was desperate now. “Stay out of this!”

  “It’s my duty to help my husband, and I can help him better by going than staying.” Reiko believed it even though she knew Sano would disagree. “If I can keep Yugao occupied, that will be one less problem for him.”

  “What about your son? If anything bad happens to you, who will raise him?”

  An image of Masahiro rose in Reiko’s mind, so physical she could almost feel his soft, fragrant skin and hear his laugh. Her determination wavered, but only for a moment. Parenthood didn’t excuse a warrior from battle or Reiko from delivering Yugao to justice. Any expectation that she might fail would only handicap her.

  “Nothing bad will happen to me,” Reiko said. “Be ready to send in your troops if I should call.”

  “Why are you taking so long?” Yugao called. “If you don’t hurry, I might change my mind.”

  Reiko turned her back on Hirata. As she started up the stairs, she felt him tug at the back of her sash. At first she thought he was trying to restrain her; then she felt the short, hard, narrow shape of a knife he’d tucked under her sash against her spine where Yugao couldn’t see it.

  “May the gods protect you,” he whispered. “May Sanosan not kill me for letting you go off on this crazy mission!”

  With every step she climbed, Reiko’s heart pounded faster in anticipation. Yugao and Tama silently watched her. Yugao’s steady, menacing gaze drew her upward. Tama’s eyes brimmed with tears and hope of salvation as Reiko reached the veranda. Reiko advanced until she was within touching distance of Yugao. Suddenly Yugao grinned. With no other warning, she slashed Tama’s throat.

  “No!” Reiko screamed.

  Tama uttered a terrible, gurgling wail. Blood spewed in a hot red fountain, drenching Reiko. She exclaimed in horrified disbelief. Yugao flung Tama at her. Tama crumpled onto the veranda floor, where she twitched, moaned, and died in front of Reiko. Her blood pooled around them. Reiko heard Hirata and her guards shouting and running up the stairs.

  “Stop!” Yugao ordered them. She seized Reiko by the arm and held the blade against her neck. “One more move, and she’s dead, too!”

  Reiko felt cold steel against her skin. She saw the men standing immobile and helpless on the stairs. Breathless, on the brink of fainting from shock, and dripping blood, she had barely enough self-possession to twist her body and hide the knife from Yugao.

  Yugao marched Reiko past Tama’s corpse and through the door. She spoke in a tone of vindictive satisfaction: “Now you’ll pay for all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

  Chapter 31

  “I think we’ve passed the house,” Detective Marume said as he and Fukida and Sano toiled up the forested slope through the night. “I feel as if we’re halfway to the sky.”

  Sano stumbled over a rock and caught himself. “We must have strayed off course.” He heard furtive rustling sounds from their army far off to his right. “Let’s go that way.”

  They cut a zigzagging path across the hillside, groping past branches that snagged their armor. Soon the trees thinned. Pale moonlight filled a cleared space. Sano and his men halted at its edge, the boundary of the mansion’s grounds. Gardens descended in three terraces toward the house; ponds shimmered in the moonlight amid ornamental trees, flowerbeds, shrubs, and small, decorative buildings. Insects chirped and shrilled. Mist hovered in a thin, whitish vapor above the tall grass. Below the gardens spread the roof of the top level of the mansion. Sano heard stealthy movement in die gardens’ dense, verdant darkness and glimpsed flashes of light—the moon reflecting off the helmets and swords of his army.

  Beckoning his men, Sano started down the top terrace. Shadows under the trees gave them cover. Cold dew on the grass drenched his sandals and socks. He spied the hunched, indistinct figures of his troops advancing to the next terrace. The night was peaceful except for the wind, the insects’ songs, the wolves’ howls, the whisper of grass and foliage, and crackles of twigs and dry leaves underfoot. But as Sano, Marume, and Fukida skirted a raised pavilion covered with a roof on posts, a hoarse scream shattered the quiet.

  They instinctively crouched beside the pavilion. “What was that?” Marume whispered.

  A second scream vibrated with a horrendous agony that rattled Sano’s nerves. Another cry, and another, followed in rapid succession. Chaos broke out down on the grounds. Men charged in all directions, no longer cautious, exposed to view. Countless more screams alarmed Sano. He and Fukida and Marume skidded do
wn the slope to the lower terrace, where scuffles erupted under the foliage and the cries continued. Near a pond, a man lay inert and moaning. Sano crouched beside him and peered at the face below the helmet.

  It was Captain Nakai. His eyes and mouth were open, round with terror. His complexion looked ghastly white.

  “What happened?” Sano said.

  “He sneaked up on me and grabbed me,” Nakai said between gasps. “I think he broke my back.”

  Horror flooded Sano as he turned to Marume and Fukida, who crouched near him. “We’ve flushed out Kobori. He’s stalking and attacking our troops.” Sano heard new cries that were quickly silenced as though cut in the middle, and he knew that unlike Nakai, several of his other men hadn’t survived their encounters with the Ghost.

  Nakai wagged his head feebly, but the rest of him lay still. “I can’t move my body!” he cried. “I’m paralyzed!”

  Sano felt a heartbreaking pity for Nakai, the warrior who’d slain forty-eight men during his last battle, felled just moments into this one. Sano forgave Nakai his rudeness and over-ambition. Nakai had already served him better than most samurai ever served their masters. Nakai had led him to the Ghost and sacrificed himself to their cause.

  Around them, soldiers yelled, “He’s over there!” “Get him!” They raced back and forth. Swords clanged. Bodies collided. The screams resounded with awful, increasing frequency. Sano realized that although he had the Ghost within striking distance at last, his mission was in serious trouble. He tore himself away from Nakai, stood, and shouted, “Stop running wild! Get back into your teams!”

  He knew what Kobori was doing: scattering the men, then luring them singly into the shadows and picking them off. “Surround the place!” Sano yelled. “Trap Kobori!”

  The room was bare, the furniture and tatami mats stored away until summer. Dust filmed the plank floor. In the empty alcove hung a spider web adorned with dead insects. Reiko knelt in a corner, trembling and sickened from Tama’s death. Tama’s blood, now cold and sticky, had seeped through her clothes and stained her skin. With every breath she inhaled its raw, metallic odor; she fought the urge to vomit. Bitter self-recrimination tortured her.

  Yugao stood over Reiko, holding the knife extended, its sharp point almost touching Reiko’s lips. The knife, her hands, and her robes were blood-smeared, her eyes crazed. The light from the lantern flickered across her features, animating them as if with constant nervous tics.

  Fear gathered inside Reiko like a pool of acid corroding her spirit. Yugao had already killed four times and wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. Completely at Yugao’s mercy, Reiko took no comfort from the knife that Hirata had given her. She sensed murderous thoughts moving in Yugao’s mind, saw the hint of an evil smile curve her mouth, felt how fast were her reflexes. If Reiko reached behind her and pulled her own weapon out from under her sash, Yugao would attack her before she could defend herself.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Reiko said. “We can just walk out of here.” Her survival depended on manipulating Yugao. “You’ll be safe.”

  “Don’t talk such nonsense,” Yugao retorted. “You’ll turn me over to your father. And he’ll have me executed.”

  It didn’t seem the time for Reiko to point out that Yugao had previously demanded that Magistrate Ueda execute her. Yugao had changed her mind and didn’t appear willing to change it back again. “That won’t happen. I’ve told my father that I think you’re innocent; you didn’t murder your family. He believed it. If you hadn’t run away, you’d have been acquitted,” Reiko lied.

  Yugao sneered. “You never told him any such thing. You thought I was guilty from the start.”

  “No, I didn’t. I’ve been trying to help you all along.” The knife was so close to Reiko’s face that she could smell the iron; her skin tingled as she imagined the slash, the pain, her blood spilling. “Let me help you now.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that when your father hears that I killed Tama, he’ll set me free!”

  “I’ll tell him that you didn’t mean to kill her; it was an accident,” Reiko improvised. “The only things you’ve done wrong are escaping from jail and associating with a criminal. Just come with me back to Edo.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” Yugao asked in disdain. “There’s nothing there for me.”

  “My father will pardon you. You can start a new life. You won’t be an outcast anymore.” Reiko cautiously held out her hand. “Just give me the knife.”

  Sudden rage flared in Yugao’s eyes. “Do you want the knife that badly? Well, I’ll give it to you!”

  She slashed at Reiko’s hand. Reiko cried out as the blade cut her palm. Blood oozed from the deep gash.

  “That should teach you to try to fool me,” Yugao said with malicious satisfaction. “Now keep your mouth shut while I decide what to do.”

  Sano shouted at his men, ordering them to band together and close off Kobori’s escape route. But anarchy reigned, as if the Ghost had cast a spell that drove the troops mad. Sano felt his army’s hysteria growing with each cry that signaled another death at Kobori’s hands. He fought his own desire to run wild. Corpses lay strewn among trees and bushes. Now three soldiers fled the gardens and disappeared into the forest. A mass stampede followed them.

  “The cowards are deserting,” Marume said, alarmed as well as disgusted. “Hey!” he shouted. “Come back here!” He charged after the deserters.

  “No! Don’t!” Sano said, but too late to stop Marume.

  A slender figure clad in black emerged from behind a clump of bushes on the terrace above. It stood alert but relaxed, like a tiger after a successful hunt, watching the army flee. Then he turned and looked straight down at Sano and Fukida. His eyes gleamed; his teeth flashed in a curved white line as he smiled. Sano’s heart lurched.

  The man was Kobori.

  “There he is!” Fukida exclaimed.

  Sword drawn, he lunged up the slope, compelled by the madness that had seized the army. Sano vaulted after him, calling, “We have to stick together!” They must not make the same error their troops had. As a team they had a chance against Kobori. Alone, they risked their comrades’ fate.

  The few remaining troops rallied to the chase, converging on Kobori from all directions. Kobori waited until Fukida had breasted the terrace and his pursuers were within some ten paces of him. Then he faded into the bushes. As Sano reached these, his men rushed about in confusion, calling, “Where did he go?” Someone crashed into him. A sword whistled through the air too close to his face.

  “Watch out!” he cried.

  “He ran into the woods!” said Fukida’s excited voice.

  Bushes crackled and foliage snapped as the horde bounded off after the Ghost. Sano cursed in frustration. They would never find Kobori in there. He was as good as gone. While the noise of his men thrashing through the woods receded into the distance, Sano sheathed his sword and bent over, resting his hands on his knees, overcome by weariness and despair.

  “Chamberlain Sano,” a voice whispered. It was soft, yet had a latent power that made it audible above the other noises.

  Like a cat hissing, as Tama had described it to Reiko.

  Sano felt his skin ripple. The Ghost was here. He must have eluded the troops, then come back.

  A visceral, primitive terror froze Sano. Only his eyes moved, trying to locate Kobori in the shadows around him. His heart drummed an accelerating rhythm of dread. But although he could sense Kobori’s presence like malignant decay breeding in the gardens, he couldn’t see the Ghost.

  “Your men are busy chasing one another in the woods,” Kobori said. “The ones I haven’t killed or scared away, that is.” His tone was amused yet vicious, conversational yet threatening. “It’s just you and me.”

  Reiko sat in her corner, her injured hand wrapped in her sleeve and still oozing blood. Yugao still stood before her, holding the knife. They listened to the shouts and the running footsteps outside the mansion. Yugao’s gaze skittered, as if
she wanted to see what was happening but dared not leave Reiko. Her hand trembled and the knife wavered with the strain that Reiko sensed building inside her. The lantern burned dimmer, a dying sun that emitted sickly ochre light and rancid smoke. The atmosphere was dense with the odors of blood and Yugao’s feverish perspiration. Reiko knew that sooner or later Yugao would snap. Either she must risk her life trying to talk Yugao into surrendering, or keep quiet and die anyway.

  “Do you hear that commotion?” Reiko said. “Do you want to know what it is?”

  “Be quiet,” Yugao ordered, “or I’ll cut you again.”

  “My husband and his troops have invaded the grounds,” Reiko said. “Pretty soon they’ll be inside the house.”

  “No, they won’t.” Goaded into conversation, Yugao spoke with utter confidence. “They’ll never get past him.”

  Reiko understood that Yugao was referring to Kobori, the Ghost. “He’s only one man. There are hundreds of them. He can’t fight them all.”

  “Is that what you think?” Yugao’s expression turned sly, disdainful. “Well, you don’t know him.”

  There came a shriek so loud that it seemed to pierce the walls of the house and so filled with agony that Reiko gasped.

  “Did you hear that?” Yugao said. “Do you want to know what it is?” Her tone teased Reiko. “He’s killing your husband’s men. Just listen!” More shrieks arose. “You can count them as they die. He’s the best fighter there ever was!”

  She brimmed with admiration for Kobori, and an excitement that was almost sexual. Reiko suddenly found herself afraid that the Ghost’s wondrous martial arts skills really could defeat an entire army. She realized that she’d been counting on Sano to save her, but maybe he was already dead. She thought of Hirata, waiting outside. If she called him, Yugao would kill her before he could reach her. She had to get out of this predicament on her own.

  “No matter how good Kobori is, he can’t hold out against so many troops,” Reiko said. “They’ll kill him eventually. And you’ll be left to take the blame for what he’s done.”