Yamada Monogatari: The War God's Son

by Richard Parks

  “We go see Master Chang Yu, as I have been wanting to do since we arrived here. I have some questions I believe he can answer.”

  Master Chang’s shop was near the Karasuma section, which was a bit of a walk since we were not mounted this time. Not that I minded terribly. Horses had their place, but I was used to walking, and I liked it—less chance of being thrown or trampled.

  The shop was deceptively small, not unlike Master Chang himself. The front part of the building was his alleged real business, selling Chinese medicines and herbal compounds. There was a pungent blend of ginger and lemongrass and a dozen more smells I could neither identify nor avoid. Master Chang’s compounding table was not in use, and his chair was empty. A girl of perhaps fifteen was watching the shop.

  “Gentlemen, how may I assist you?” she asked.

  “You can tell your master Lord Yamada is here to see him. You may also tell him it would be useless to try and slip out the back door, so he may as well talk to me.”

  The girl frowned but quickly bowed and passed through a curtained doorway. There was a few moments delay, and then Master Chang Yu himself appeared in the doorway. He was about a head shorter than Kenji, who was perhaps half that much shorter than I was. He had a long gray mustache and wispy beard and he managed to look at once plump and tiny. Master Chang had kept the same shop in the capital since I had known him, and that stretched back twenty years or so. Over the years he had not changed at all—he still wore the robes of his foreign homeland, and I knew his clothing choice was driven as much by business concerns as nostalgia and habit. He still spoke our language with an atrocious accent, except when he needed to speak plainly and be understood, and not just play the role of aged Chinese merchant a long way from home.

  Master Chang looked chagrined. “Armed men, Lord Yamada? Seriously? One would think these old bones were a danger to someone.”

  “I did inform your servant slipping out was useless, but you had to test me to see if I was bluffing. I’m not above such things, but in this case? No.”

  Prince Kanemore had insisted Kenji and I take a two-man escort into the city. Since they were there, I had decided to make use of them, in case Master Chang was in his usual uncooperative frame of mind, and so the matter proved.

  “One should not blame an old man for trying to avoid trouble,” Master Chang said. “And you are trouble, Lord Yamada. You do know that, yes?”

  “I do not think anyone knows it better than Lord Yamada,” Kenji said, “though personally I know it better than most.”

  “I need information, Master Chang,” I said, ignoring Kenji’s comment, “and once I have it, I will gladly take myself and my trouble elsewhere. This concerns a man named Otomo no Tenshin. I think you know him.”

  The old man shrugged. “I suppose. Members of the Otomo Clan have been my customers for years, as have Fujiwara and Minamoto and Taira and . . . well, nearly all of them. I even get the occasional royal transaction.”

  “You taught this one how to make shikigami. There are more than a few in the capital with the skill, but those at the very highest level? Nearly all were trained by you,” I said.

  “I suppose I should be flattered, but I’m an old man and far past such things,” Master Chang said. “Assuming what you say is true, what crimes have I committed?”

  “Many, I would assume,” I said, “but none I care about. I said I came for information, and information is all I want from you. Nothing more. Do you recognize this script?” I produced the remains of the creature I had discovered at the Widow Tamahara’s. Master Chang examined it, his face expressionless.

  “If I answer your questions, do you promise to leave me out of whatever endeavor you’re involved with this time? The last incident in which I cooperated with you nearly lost me my life.”

  “Not even close,” I said, “but for what it’s worth, I will settle for the information, as I said. Your personal involvement will not be required. You have my word.”

  “In that case . . . I recognize the work of Lord Tenshin,” he said, “and yes, it was I who taught him the art, or rather a portion of it. He already knew a great deal when he came to me, but he wanted a few more shall we say . . . specific techniques.”

  “Such as a creature which can manifest already armed with a weapon? Steel, for all intents and purposes, but no less ethereal than the creature itself and returns to paper if the creature is destroyed?”

  “Child’s play,” said Master Chang, looking smug. “Though the technique does take more concentration and preparation time. Lord Tenshin already knew that trick. What he wanted to know was how to make the creatures last, and how to create one with more sense than a rutting boar-hog.”

  “Please explain,” I said.

  “After your own dealings with lesser creations, isn’t it obvious? The creatures are powerful but limited. Now take the example of my servant Mitsuko-chan over here—I’ll wager you haven’t yet gleaned her true nature, despite your wealth of experience. Am I right?”

  I admit I was taken aback, and judging from the look on Kenji’s face, he was as startled as I was. I took another long hard look at the girl, but I finally had to admit defeat. “You’re saying she’s a shikigami?”

  Master Yu’s expression passed smug and went on to extraordinarily pleased with himself. “Impressive, yes? Doesn’t she make you wonder?”

  “A servant you don’t have to pay, feed, or house, who obeys your every command without question?” Kenji said. “Why would we wonder?”

  I knew why, and so did Kenji, though I knew Kenji pretended otherwise to draw the man out. “I don’t know how she managed to escape my notice, but there is a basic problem with the creatures,” I said. “They obey your every command, no more and no less. She would have to be told everything you wanted her to do, or it would not be done. She would not notice, for instance, that the door had fallen off or a particular rare herb was in short supply, except if you remembered to tell her to watch for those things. She would sweep the floor at a certain time every day, whether it needed sweeping or not, if the building was on fire or not. They are decent agents and assassins when single-minded devotion to a task is required, but they make terrible servants. Managing one such more than a day or so would be exhausting and hardly worth the trouble.”

  Master Chang grinned, showing the gap of a missing eyetooth. “Now suppose I were to tell you my charming servant here has no such limitations, and that she has been minding my shop while I work, requiring no additional instructions whatsoever for the past three months?”

  “I’d say your initial instructions must have been very thorough,” Kenji offered.

  Master Chang dismissed Kenji’s comment with a wave of his plump hand. “Rubbish. Even I can’t think of everything. Test her, if you doubt me.”

  “Very well.” Kenji approached the girl, who merely watched him with big dark eyes. “What am I, girl?”

  “You are a man. You are dressed as a priest.”

  “I am a priest,” Kenji said.

  “I will make note of that,” she said. “I have seen priests before. They carried themselves differently than you do.”

  “Different how?” he asked.

  “Like I know priests to bear themselves, all their mannerisms and actions. You bear yourself as a man.”

  A habit he has been quite unable to break, I thought but said nothing. I was curious to see how Kenji would approach the problem of Mitsuko.

  “Let me ask you a question . . . Mitsuko, is it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What are the medicinal uses of a rug in traditional Chinese healing?”

  I think Kenji expected the creature to turn to Master Chang for guidance. I rather expected the same; we were both surprised.

  “None I am aware of,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.

  Kenji frowned. “Did Master Chang tell you to say that?”

  The shikigami called Mitsuko answered immediately. “He did not. How would my master know someo
ne would ask about the medicinal value of a rug? It seems to be a silly question. Is that how you intended it, sir?”

  I couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Enough. Master Chang, I am impressed. And you taught this technique to Lord Tenshin?”

  “He paid handsomely for the privilege, I assure you. Yet there are limitations, even with such a wonder. It pains me to say, but Mitsuko-chan probably won’t last another week.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because volition still requires a living spirit. If I’m not supplying it, then it has to come from someone else.”

  Kenji scowled. “Did you—?”

  “Please, Master Kenji. I am no murderer. I am of the Way . . . not your Way, but an older one.”

  “There is no older Way—”

  I interrupted. “While I am not against a rousing philosophical discussion, gentlemen, we have more urgent business. Please go on, Master Chang.”

  “I was simply going to say that we understand the principles of universal balance, the yin and the yang. A ghost is a contradiction. It is a human spirit but it has no body. As long as it remains in this world it will always be incomplete, out of balance. My technique makes an artificial body, which will take on the appearance of the once-living person as soon as the spirit manifests within it. Naturally, if there is no available spirit to fill the void, the technique does not work. But to answer the question you have not yet asked, this is why you did not recognize Mitsuko as a shikigami. She has a human soul. She is human, in most ways that matter. So this is why she triggered no spiritual alarms in you.”

  “But why does it last only for such a short time?” I asked.

  “Again, we’re back to the balance I spoke of, Lord Yamada. While a void always wants to be filled, a human spirit was never intended to live in a house of paper, and the sustaining power of the initial charm is not unlimited, even with normal shikigami. I can already see signs of this in Mitsuko. Three months, I have found, is about the limit.”

  Whatever hints there were of Mitsuko’s imminent dissolution, they were invisible to me. She appeared perfectly fine and healthy, but that reminded me of the question Master Chang had not yet answered. “But for a traditional shikigami—not one like Mitsuko—I believe Lord Tenshin spoke of a way to make them last. I’m guessing he meant they could be made less prone to being destroyed?”

  “Indeed,” Master Chang said. “In some ways a more difficult problem than the creation of Mitsuko. These creatures have many weaknesses, as you have discovered—physical damage, for one. Then fire and water for obvious reasons—one destroys the paper, the other ruins the ink which holds the charm in place. Even the most powerful shikigami can be undone by a simple spring shower.”

  “Or saké,” Kenji said. “Though it broke my heart to waste it.”

  Master Chang smiled. “Ah, yes, I did hear about this. News does travel in my circles, Lord Yamada.”

  “Unfortunately one cannot always count on the rain or barrels of saké when fighting a shikigami,” I said. “But fighting the creatures would be more difficult if Lord Tenshin has a way to overcome that limitation.”

  Master Chang sighed. “I’m afraid he does.”

  The technique Master Chang then described was one in which the ink could be mixed with the white of an egg in certain proportions, with one extra ingredient—blood. “The magician’s own blood,” Master Chang hastened to add. “The secret is to bind both the ink and the magician’s will to the paper, as well as impart some of the magician’s yang energy to the creature as well, and the link created by the blood permits the creature to continue drawing this energy from the magician. I call it the Blood Thread technique. As you can imagine, this method takes a high toll on the magician, far in excess of the amount of blood used. If you’re concerned about an army of these creatures, be comforted—it would take a strong young onmyoji to create and maintain even one of them. Any more and the effort would kill them.”

  “How about over time, could more be created?” Kenji asked.

  Master Chang drew a deep breath and then grunted. “No, that’s not possible, even for a young, healthy man. As I said, the Blood Thread continues to draw the magician’s life energy so long as it exists, so the magician has no chance to recover his strength. The longer the creature lasts, the weaker the magician will become. Even two such creations would drain the magician to his death in a very short time, and then the creatures would die as well. They can live only so long as the magician does. It’s a powerful—but very dangerous and limited—technique.”

  I had an inspiration. “But what would happen if the method you just described was combined with the technique you used to create Mitsuko?”

  “A continuing supply of living energy fueling a created body with its own volition . . . I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Yes, you had,” I said. “Or you’re not nearly as clever as I know you to be. Why you didn’t do this with Mitsuko is obvious, but if the idea hasn’t occurred to Lord Tenshin, I have badly over-estimated him.”

  “It’s true I’m no longer a young strong man,” Master Chang said. “I don’t have the living energy to spare. Lord Tenshin, on the other hand . . . yes, it might work. Like Mitsuko, it would have its human memories, perhaps even believe it was still human and go on with its perceived life as normal if the transition happened close to death—ghosts tend to be confused, in the first hours of their creation. Yet the link does not simply power the creature, it gives the magician the ability to control the shikigami, even at a distance. I would not do such a thing even if I could, but Lord Tenshin might, given the need—in is his own perception of ‘need.’ I have to say his sense of the ethical balance of the universe is somewhat lacking. Still, he paid well enough.”

  I grunted. “For the right price, I’m guessing the proper balance of the universe is open to interpretation?”

  “Always,” Master Chang said without hesitation. “And price doesn’t have anything to do with the matter.”

  “We failed to recognize Mitsuko. Is there a way to identify these creatures? I mean, short of cutting their heads off and hoping they turn into paper?”

  The old man grinned. “One such as Mitsuko is sustained by the power of the charm, as I said, and so has no need to eat or drink. More to the point, she cannot eat or drink. Her body is real enough, but her reality is a physical manifestation of a charm written on a piece of paper. If she were to have, say, a cup of saké, the contrast between her actual physical reality and the perception she has of herself . . . well, it’s like a sleeper being slapped awake. The shock is simply too much and the soul flees, destroying the charm. I discovered this by accident with a previous servant. I have no doubt the same would apply to a creature created by the Blood Thread technique.”

  “So if we suspect such a one, all we would need to do would be to get it to eat or drink to discover the truth. Which implies we’d first need cause for suspicion, and otherwise these things are indistinguishable from a normal human.”

  “Just so,” Master Chang agreed. “You do see the problem.”

  Kenji glanced at Mitsuko. “It’s not right, Master Chang.”

  The old man frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “A spirit should be exorcised so it may return to the wheel of death and rebirth to work out its karma. You create a trap for them and turn them into servants. You are delaying their eventual transcendence!”

  “It is not a trap, Master Kenji,” Chang said. “It’s a restoration of balance. I admit what you say might apply if Mitsuko was a confused spirit who was not aware of her situation, but Mitsuko chose this. Like a spirit being reborn into the physical world on the Wheel of Death and Rebirth. She simply doesn’t remember doing so.”

  “How convenient she does not remember,” Kenji said.

  “For her own sake she does not remember, Master Kenji. It is an act of kindness. No matter, she has little time in any case. I’m sorry, Mitsuko, but as I can see Master Kenji does not believe me, I am commanding you
to remember, and answer Master Kenji’s questions.”

  Through all this discussion—the parts which concerned her and the parts which did not—Mitsuko had stood at her place beside the cubbyholes and crockery jars that held Master Chang’s wares, and her expression had not changed a flicker. But now as Kenji approached, I saw a touch of fear.

  “I want to ask you something,” Kenji said. “Will you answer me truthfully?”

  “I have no reason to lie to you, sir,” Mitsuko said.

  “Not even on orders from your master?”

  She actually smiled slightly then, and I think that was the last stone in the wall. I was no longer able to think of Mitsuko as an “it” or a created thing. Whatever passed for flesh in Master Chang’s creation, I no longer had any doubt he had told the truth about Mitsuko—there was a person in there.

  “If so ordered, I would obey,” she said, “but how could he have known what you would ask?”

  While personally I would not entirely rule out the possibility, I silently conceded it was a bit far-fetched, even for someone as subtle as Master Chang. Kenji apparently came to the same conclusion.

  “Master Chang said you chose to come here, to . . . accept, the body you are wearing now. Is this true?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I remember now. It’s true.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Mitsuko wasn’t smiling now. She looked haunted. “Because it was better.”

  “Better than what? Being a ghost?”

  She bowed her head. “I was always a ghost, sir,” Mitsuko said softly. “Even when I was alive. I had no home, I had nothing. I was nothing. I died in the street and my body was raked up like a dead leaf. I lingered because I could not believe I had any place else to go.”

  “Then Master Chang offered you a place,” I said.

  She looked up then. “More than a place, sir. A purpose,” Mitsuko said. “A chance to be something, to someone. Even just as a servant. Something. Yes, I chose this. I only wish . . . ” She stopped.

  “Yes?” Kenji urged.