Sano, Hirata, and the detectives climbed the path ahead of Chieftain Awetok and Urahenka. Reaching the village, they found strewn across the ground the dead bodies of native men. Other natives stood surrounded by troops. Horror flooded Sano because Gizaemon’s army had attacked the village. What had become of Reiko and Wente?
The troops turned at the sound of his party’s approach. Sano yelled, “Where’s Gizaemon? Where is my wife?”
They stood dumbfounded by his unexpected arrival. Their surprised gazes shifted beyond him, to their fellow Matsumae troops stampeding up the path behind Sano. They raised their swords and prepared to fight, but Lord Matsumae staggered breathless into the village and ordered, “Stop!”
His hair was wild, his eyes burning in his haggard face, but he’d gained strength during the journey. Vengeance was at hand for him and Tekare. “Lower your weapons! Let us through!”
Shocked to see their master, they moved aside for Sano, Hirata, and the detectives, who hurried through the village with Lord Matsumae and his troops. Sano almost stumbled over the lone dead woman lying with her throat cut, in bloody slush, among the corpses.
It was Wente. Gizaemon had already eliminated his accomplice. Now Sano divined that he was after Reiko, who must have figured out he was the killer and was the only person left to bear witness against him.
Lord Matsumae gaped at Wente’s body. Tekare’s savage aspect darkened his face. He started kicking Wente and cursing her in native language: Tekare was upset because she’d been cheated out of her revenge on her sister. Sano forged onward through the crowd of natives until he glimpsed Reiko in the hands of four soldiers carrying her toward the forest. Gizaemon was with them.
“Gizaemon!” Sano called.
The man turned. Displeasure knitted his brow as he recognized Sano. When he spotted the troops accompanying Sano, shock rearranged his features. He halted; the men carrying Reiko slewed around. Her expression went from terrified to ecstatic.
Although overjoyed to see her, Sano focused his eyes on Gizaemon. “Tell your men to let her go.”
“How in hell did you get out of the castle?”
“Lord Matsumae freed us.”
As Gizaemon’s face went blank with astonished disbelief, Lord Matsumae stepped past his troops and stood beside Sano. “Yes, Uncle, it’s true.”
“Nephew.” Gizaemon swayed as if shock had punched him. “Why?”
Lord Matsumae addressed the soldiers who held Reiko: “Put her down.”
“No, don’t,” Gizaemon sharply countermanded.
The soldiers compromised by lowering Reiko to her feet but holding her arms. She fixed on Sano a look in which hope vied with fright.
“Chamberlain Sano has solved the crime.” Lord Matsumae’s voice shook with anger. “He’s fulfilled his duty to me. Setting him free was the least I could do in return.”
Gizaemon’s complexion paled to an ashy gray as understanding sank in. “What are you doing here?”
“You killed Tekare. I’ve come to make you answer to me,” Lord Matsumae said.
“Chamberlain Sano told you I killed her? That’s nonsense.” Beneath his scorn Gizaemon was clearly distraught. “He’s lying.”
“Evidence doesn’t lie. You left one of your toothpicks in the woods where you set the trap for Tekare,” Lord Matsumae said. “You ought to be more careful where you drop them.”
“I must have dropped it when we were looking for Tekare after she disappeared.” Gizaemon’s jaw shifted as he scrambled for more excuses. “Or Chamberlain Sano planted it. To make me look guilty. To turn you against me.”
“No, Uncle.” Even if Lord Matsumae hadn’t already made up his mind to believe Sano, he’d read the signs of guilt in Gizaemon’s behavior. “You turned against me.” He hurled his pointing finger at Gizaemon, then pounded his fist on his chest. “How?” he demanded in a voice ragged with injury. “How could you betray me by murdering the woman I love?”
This accusation of disloyalty, the worst charge a master could level at a samurai, appeared to shatter something inside Gizaemon. “I would never,” he whispered.
“No more lies! You’re going to tell me the truth if I have to force it out of you!”
Lord Matsumae gestured to his men. They drew their swords and advanced on his uncle. Gizaemon flung up his hands in a gesture of entreaty. “It was for your own good. To protect you from that barbarian whore who was ruining you.”
“Don’t you dare call her a whore!” Lord Matsumae said. “Me a whore,” Tekare’s voice echoed.
“You asked for the truth, now face it,” Gizaemon said in the tone he must have used to discipline his nephew as a child. “That’s what she was. She used men. She used you.”
“She loved me!”
“She blinded you with her charms.” Gizaemon spoke with bitter resentment toward Tekare, with pity for his nephew’s delusion. “She was like a lot of barbarians, hated the Japanese for the wrongs she thought we’d done to her and her people. I saw it in her eyes whenever she looked at any of us. She blamed you, the lord of Ezogashima. She made you pay every time she had another man right under your nose.”
Lord Matsumae said, “You’re wrong!” even as his expression registered dismay at what he saw in the mirror that Gizaemon had held up to his affair with Tekare.
“That love potion she gave you was poison that made you sick and weak. I know—I tested it on a dog. He had a fit, went wild, and died. Same thing would have eventually happened to you if I hadn’t taken action.”
Sano saw that Gizaemon was trying to turn Lord Matsumae’s anger at him onto Tekare. Maybe it would be a good thing if uncle and nephew made up, even it if meant Gizaemon would escape justice. Sano would excuse Gizaemon for the murder and its consequences if only Gizaemon would let Reiko go. Sano saw these thoughts occur to her and raise the hope in her eyes.
Lord Matsumae said, “I don’t care! I’d rather have died by her hand than lived all these months without Tekare!”
“You’re better off without her.”
“You had no right to make that decision!”
“It was my duty as a samurai,” Gizaemon said. “To rid my master of an evil influence even if he didn’t want to be rid of it. That’s the Way of the Warrior.”
Sano couldn’t condone the murder that had wrought its own evil influence upon Lord Matsumae, yet the warrior in him approved of Gizaemon’s action. Honor had motivated Gizaemon; he’d had his lord’s welfare at heart, even if he hadn’t foreseen the consequences.
“How was I to know that Tekare would manipulate you even after she was dead?” Gizaemon’s defensiveness crumbled into anguish. He reached his hand toward Lord Matsumae. He looked older than moments ago, as if his body had petrified around the secret he’d kept, and now that the secret was out he was mortal, decaying flesh once again. “If I’d known what would happen—”
Remorse eroded new wrinkles in the tough hide of his face. “All your life I’ve guided you, watched over you. You’re more than a son to me, you’re my life. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry. If I could take back her killing, I would.”
His words melted his nephew’s antagonism. Lord Matsumae whispered, “I know, Uncle.” He staggered forward, his hand extended to grasp Gizaemon’s.
Sano was moved despite his reluctance to see a crime excused. He saw Reiko relax and felt the tension ease in the other people witnessing the scene. All was well that ended peacefully, if not satisfactorily.
Then Lord Matsumae’s body whipped like an eel hooked by a fisherman. Tekare’s features, incensed with anger, reclaimed his. “Well, I don’t,” her voice spat from his mouth. “And you can’t take back what you did to me.”
Gizaemon recoiled from her as she railed at him, “Who are you to criticize me for using Lord Matsumae? It’s you and your kind that have used my people. You’ve taken the fish we catch, the animals we hunt, and the things we make, and you’ve paid us a pittance. Your men have used me for their pleasure. And you stole my
life!”
She swerved and said, “Are you going to let him get away with it, my lord?”
Uncertainty puckered Lord Matsumae’s face.
Loath to have her stir up more trouble, Sano said, “It’s over, Tekare. You’ve already punished enough people for your murder. Leave us now.”
Lord Matsumae rounded on Sano. “You stay out of this!” He punched Sano on the jaw. Sano went reeling; Hirata caught him.
“You said you wanted to avenge me,” Tekare challenged Lord Matsumae. “You say you love me.”
“…I do.”
“Then prove it! Give me a life for the life that was taken from me. Kill him!”
Lord Matsumae stared aghast at his own hand that pointed at Gizaemon. “But—but he’s my flesh and blood. He only wanted what was best for me. I can’t—”
“Coward! You’re the lord of Ezogashima, but you’re afraid of that man because he’s bossed you around all your life.” Tekare’s curses spewed from Lord Matsumae. “If you can’t kill him, let your soldiers!”
Helpless against the vindictive spirit that possessed him, Lord Matsumae groaned. “All right, if it will make you happy, my love.” He beckoned his troops. “Kill my uncle.”
Swords drawn, reluctant yet game, they advanced on Gizaemon. All his troops but one, who held onto Reiko, leaped forward to defend him. Gizaemon shouted, “Touch me, and Lady Reiko dies!”
The soldier rammed his blade against her throat. Panic splayed her hands, froze her eyes wide and her mouth in a grimace. Sano shouted, “No!” Lord Matsumae’s troops lashed their swords at Gizaemon’s, trying to get at Gizaemon. His troops lashed back, shielding him. Sano, Hirata, and the detectives plunged into the battle and dragged Matsumae troops out. Lord Matsumae thumped his fists on Sano and his men. He and Tekare shouted, “Go away! Let them execute him!”
“I outrank your master,” Sano told the Matsumae troops. “I override his orders. Stand back!”
Whether the troops respected his authority or they didn’t really want to kill comrades with whom they’d served the same clan all their lives, they obeyed Sano. Lord Matsumae shrieked in Tekare’s voice, “I’ll kill him myself!”
He rushed at Gizaemon. Detective Marume grabbed Lord Matsumae. Even though Marume was bigger and stronger, Lord Matsumae almost broke loose. Fukida helped restrain him. Tekare cursed and clawed at them.
Furious, Sano drew his sword on Gizaemon. “Let my wife go.”
“Sorry. She’s my way out of this alive.” Gizaemon jerked his chin at the soldier who had Reiko, at his other men. “Come on. We’re leaving.”
They backed into the forest behind Reiko, their shield. Sano said, “Where do you think you’ll go?”
“Plenty of hiding places in Ezo territory for someone who knows how to survive here. I do.”
Sano saw that Chieftain Awetok and Urahenka had sneaked up on Gizaemon from the rear. They poised bows and arrows to shoot. Other native men held the bear on a leash. “Pardon the natives if they think you’ve worn out your welcome in their land.” Sano nodded in their direction.
Flicking a glance backward, Gizaemon said, “My men and I can hold those brutes off long enough for us to reach the coast.” His army had assembled, their sleds and dogs ready to go; they pointed bows, arrows, and lances at the natives. “We’ll hop a ship.”
“To where?” Sano asked. “You’ll be a wanted man every-place in Japan.”
“Then I’m damned whatever I do.” Sardonic and reckless, Gizaemon said, “Might as well make a run for it.”
“Surrender, and I’ll pardon you for both murders and everything else that’s happened,” Sano said.
“Even if I trusted you, which I don’t, a true samurai never surrenders,” Gizaemon declared, as Sano had guessed he would. “Now listen: If I don’t get out of this village alive, neither does your wife.”
Despair paralyzed Sano because he couldn’t move against Gizaemon without dooming Reiko. But if he let Gizaemon go, Gizaemon would only kill her later. The natives stood firm, ready to shoot. Lord Matsumae howled and fought the detectives. Sano saw the troops getting restless. This stalemate was too volatile to hold. Reiko’s eyes begged Sano to do something, anything. Never had he felt so helpless.
A twanging sound shivered the air. A loud thump followed. The man holding Reiko screamed. He let go of her, dropped the sword, and clutched his right eye. From it protruded a short arrow with a feathered end. Blood poured down his face. He wobbled, then fell dead.
As exclamations of astonishment swept the spectators, Sano looked in the direction from which the arrow had flown. On the roof of a hut stood Masahiro. He held his bow aloft. He laughed in triumph.
A huge, weighty blackness lifted from Sano. Light rushed back into the world; his being pulsed with joy. His son was alive! He wanted to fall to his knees, weep, and thank the gods. But he had no time for that, nor to marvel at how Masahiro had made such a perfect shot. Reiko, set free, ran toward Sano. Gizaemon yelled, “Catch her!”
His troops chased Reiko. As she dodged them, Sano ran after them and hacked at them with his sword. Hirata and the detectives joined in with him. Lord Matsumae’s troops battled Gizaemon’s. Native men and women wielded spears, clubs, and knives against any and all Japanese troops. The bear marauded, growling and snapping at whoever crossed his path. Masahiro fired more arrows, as did native boys on other rooftops. The forest resounded with war-cries, colliding blades, and agonized screams.
As Sano fought to reach Reiko, she slipped on ice and fell. Gizaemon threw himself at her, and she rolled away just in time. She sped away, but a soldier grabbed her from behind. He lifted her off her feet and spun while she kicked and her arms beat the air. Sano lashed out his sword. It cut the soldier across the knees. He howled, dropped Reiko, and collapsed. She ran, but a pack of other troops headed her away from Sano, into the war raging amid the village. Lord Matsumae shouted incoherent orders in his own voice. He shrilled curses in Tekare’s and cut down his own troops with his sword. Gizaemon came barreling toward Sano.
Fury locked Gizaemon’s face into an ugly grimace. Eyes crazed with desperation, he looked madder than Lord Matsumae ever had. He swung his sword wildly at Sano. They slashed and parried so fast that their swords were a cyclone of blades through which they moved. Hirata and the native men joined forces and attacked Gizaemon’s army. Native women banded with Reiko and fought the soldiers pursuing her. Gizaemon’s men dropped dead from arrows fired by the boys. Sano barely noticed the chaos. In the space between cuts, there was no time to think. His body lunged, ducked, and pivoted, operating on sheer instinct. The din of metal clanging on metal deafened him. He never saw the critical misstep that decided the outcome.
One instant Gizaemon was savagely fighting Sano. The next, Sano felt his blade cleave flesh and bone. Gizaemon roared. He clutched his right wrist, which spurted blood; the hand was gone. Sano had sliced it clean off. It lay in the snow, fingers still gripping Gizaemon’s sword. Gizaemon stared at his amputated hand in horror.
The sudden victory shocked Sano. His heart was still thudding wildly, his lungs heaving, his muscles still tensed for combat. But all around him the combat fizzled as Matsumae troops noticed that Gizaemon was done for and couldn’t divide their loyalties any longer. Hirata and the Ainu men surrounded Gizaemon. He dropped to one knee in a circle of their swords and spears pointed at him. He gazed up at Sano, defeated yet too proud to beg for mercy.
Sano felt himself roughly elbowed aside by Lord Matsumae. Lord Matsumae brandished a sword already red with blood from Japanese men that Tekare had killed. Her aspect masked his face, clearer than ever. Sano could even see her tattoo around his mouth.
“He’s mine,” she said.
Gizaemon beheld his nephew with a tragic, despairing expression. He was already pale from blood loss, half dead. Lord Matsumae swung his sword and decapitated Gizaemon.
As blood spewed from Gizaemon’s neck and his head hit the ground, Lord Matsumae uttered a high-pitched, ulu
lating cry. His back arched, and a horrible grimace of pain twisted his face. His muscles spasmed; his sword dropped. His toes pointed and sprang him up from the ground. A human shadow wrenched free from him. It had the shape of a naked woman. A cry went up among the spectators. Lord Matsumae fell limp, unconscious. The shadow gained substance and detail until Tekare appeared in the flesh.
Sano stared in amazement. She was glorious, brown-skinned, with full lips like an exotic flower in the intense blue tattoo, long, wavy black hair, and dark, deep, knowing eyes. Her nipples were erect, her muscles as strong as a man’s yet sleek, supple, and feminine. Tekare surveyed Gizaemon and smiled with private satisfaction: She’d had her revenge at last.
She swept a triumphant gaze across her audience that stood entranced, silent, and motionless. Then she turned and walked toward the forest. The trees ahead of her shimmered like a painting on a sheer silk curtain blown by the wind. A thunderous crack shook the earth as the portal opened to the spirit world. Tekare walked through the shimmering trees. She disintegrated as if composed of a million particles of light that winked out rapidly one by one. The shimmer abruptly ceased; the world was quiet. Everybody gazed at the forest, where Tekare had vanished.
Captain Okimoto cried, “Lord Matsumae!” He rushed to his fallen master, shook him, and patted his face. “He won’t wake up.”
Troops flocked around Lord Matsumae. Joined by their fear that he was dead and they were masterless samurai, they’d forgotten that they’d been fighting to kill one another. Sano knelt, put his ear by Lord Matsumae’s nose, and felt his neck. “He’s breathing, and his pulse is strong.”
Chieftain Awetok spoke, and the Rat translated: “‘When the spirit of Tekare left him, it was a shock to his system. He’ll sleep for a while. Then he’ll be fine. Take him home.’”
A few troops loaded Lord Matsumae onto a sled. Others gathered up their slain and wounded comrades, some twenty in all. Natives knelt beside and mourned their dead. Urahenka sat with Wente cradled in his lap. Sobs shuddered through him. The air filled with the sound of weeping.
The Snow Empress Page 28