Yamada Monogatari: The War God's Son

by Richard Parks

  “Yes, the ghost has been banished. She will not return.”

  Tomoko-ana frowned. “One of the priests said it was the Shibata nun.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I don’t understand,” Tomoko said. “Why would she wish to harm us?”

  “We don’t know that she did,” Rie said. “She met with a sudden and violent death. Such an end could prompt one to focus their anger on the place where it occurred, perhaps believing those who had harmed her were still present. We don’t know what would have happened had she reached this place.”

  “I suppose that is true,” Tomoko admitted. “She was such a gentle, brave soul. I remember . . . I heard her shouting, ordering them to stop—”

  Tomoko swayed briefly, and now Rie was on her feet, with her arms around the old woman. “She is at rest now, thanks to my brother and our brother priests,” Rie said. “Please do not dwell upon her death. I want to remember her life and what it meant to us. Surely she would want us to do the same.”

  Tomoko shuddered, and wiped her eyes with her sleeves. “Forgive a foolish old woman.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Rie said. “You’ve said no more than I have thought myself these past few days. The fires will be lit tomorrow, this place will be cleansed, and we will start again.” Rie turned to me. “I am told there is to be a banquet and ceremony to honor and re-dedicate Yahiko-ji. Our attendance has been requested by Lord Yoshiie himself, excepting Mai who is excused due to her . . . condition. May I assume you will be there as well?”

  I took a slow breath. “It rather depends on what strength is left to me. The way I feel at the moment, I might sleep through the entire affair. But perhaps you should consider doing the same? I know this time has been very hard on you.”

  Rie demurred. “We cannot dishonor our fallen brothers and sisters by being such layabouts. I will be there. I will not hold it against you if you are not, Goji-kun, and Lord Yoshiie has more guards than the Emperor. You have done more than enough already.”

  “Not yet I haven’t,” I said. “But I do hope to. Until then, I have matters to attend.”

  “You still haven’t gotten your color back,” Tomoko said to Rie. “I will bring some of the daicon soup you like so much.”

  “I had two bowls at the evening meal as it is,” Rie said, “but if you insist . . . ?”

  “I do,” Tomoko said.

  “I leave my sister in your capable hands, Tomoko-ana,” I said.

  Kenji was waiting for me outside. “You didn’t need to wait here,” I said. “But since you have done so, walk with me.”

  The night had turned clear, with almost no clouds. Also no moon, but the stars were bright. The haze of summer had not yet come to obscure them. We started back to our quarters. I paused for a moment at the gate separating the nunnery from the main compound. The wooden beam was very thick and heavy but had been arranged to pivot on the left side so only one end needed to be raised to unbar the gate. Even so, I tried it and could raise the beam only with great difficulty. I had the Shibata nun’s own word, but now I knew the Shibata nun could not possibly have unbarred the gate, or at least not alone, as I would have realized if I’d examined the gate more thoroughly. It was clearly designed so no single one of them could open it. I had wasted a question unless, perhaps, the Shibata nun had actually answered the question I had not asked.

  “I was foolish to think the Shibata nun opened this gate.”

  Kenji grunted. “Not unless several of the nuns as well as the prioress were complicit in their own murders, which—yes—is nonsense on the face of it,” Kenji said, then he went on, “I do not wish to intrude in family matters, but how is your sister now?”

  “Much better. Apparently the recent unpleasantness was catching up to her. With a little food and rest, she should be fine.”

  “I am pleased to hear it. Now then—did you learn anything from the Shibata nun?”

  “Nothing but more questions, I’m afraid.” I related what the ghost of the Shibata nun had said, slowly and carefully going over the meeting in my mind to make sure I had omitted nothing.

  “She apologized to you? Twice? Well, she did almost kill you, but that’s not the sort of regret one normally expects from a ghost.”

  I thought about it. “Kenji-kun, what worries me is not the apology, but the expression of it. I do not think she was apologizing. I think she was expressing sympathy, perhaps even pity.”

  Kenji frowned. “Pity? To whom?”

  “To me.”

  Kenji looked at me. “Lord Yamada, while I confess I myself have felt that particular emotion towards you from time to time, it was not under such circumstances and certainly not lately. It’s true your time on this earth has not been without tragedy, but I do not see you as pitiable and fail to see why anyone else would.”

  “I think the Shibata nun did.”

  “Considering the Shibata nun never met you in life, I find it doubly strange that this would be the case. Unfortunately, and assuming you are correct, the only person who could tell you why she felt this way is now beyond this world. ‘The one who betrayed us is dead. The one who killed us all still lives.’ Is it a riddle? What does it mean?”

  “I do not know, but I think there is yet someone living who might be able to shed some light on this.”

  Kenji frowned. “Are you referring to Mai?”

  “Before Mai stood in her way last night, the ghost wanted nothing more than to kill me. My name alone seemed to enrage her, as if she knew who I was. After that, the spirit felt sorry for me. Consider this for a moment, Kenji-san. I have, and I find her sorrow even more puzzling than her rage.”

  “You think Mai knows what this means?”

  “We’ve known from the start Mai saw something. At first I believed the information might simply be useful in piecing together the full story of the attack. Since then I’ve come to believe her information might be even more important than I am yet capable of understanding.”

  “She still can’t speak, except in fragments,” Kenji pointed out.

  “She managed to tell the ghost something all the same. I don’t know what or how, but it was enough to turn the ghost aside when that was beyond the power of both of us to do. More to the point, we assumed Mai’s mind had been temporarily unhinged by the massacre, and she was still in the grip of remembered terrors. Placing herself between me and the ghost of the Shibata nun was one of the bravest acts I have ever seen. That was not the action of a person in the grip of unreasoning fear. If she’s still afraid, she’s afraid for a reason.”

  “The attempted shikigami attack would seem to bear this out,” Kenji said dryly.

  I had almost forgotten . . .

  “Kenji, by any chance do you still have the remnants of the creature?”

  The priest frowned. “I think so. I normally keep such things for later study, when possible.”

  Kenji pulled out a pouch and began rummaging through it. “I keep my wards close to hand, but this . . . ah! Found it.”

  He handed a battered piece of paper to me. Kenji had not been gentle with the creature’s snake-form, and it showed in the remnants of the paper. A second look told me pretty much what my first look had told me, back on the day of the attack. It was a crude script, obviously not what I would have expected from Lord Tenshin, but then I knew there were onmyoji in the Abe Clan’s employ other than Tenshin, and it could have been created by any of them. Crude and apparently done in haste as it was, there was still something familiar about the script.

  Curse me thrice for a fool . . .

  “Kenji, do you have an example of Lord Tenshin’s work in there?”

  “Probably, though most were thoroughly destroyed. None from the rain of saké have survived, I know that much. Ah, yes, here’s one.”

  The side-by-side comparison was all it took. “Look here, Kenji—the way the kanji for hi is rendered. Check the separation of the first two strokes.”

  “It’s identical,” Kenji said, �
��but this could be coincidence.”

  “Then check the proportion on mizu and shin as well.”

  Kenji studied the paper. “Also identical . . . so we were wrong. Lord Tenshin did do this . . . but why would he disguise it? It’s not as if we didn’t already know his murderous intent nor suspect his involvement in this desecration. For his service to an outlaw clan, he is already under sentence of death. Adding this abomination to his crimes would not change that.”

  “True, Lord Tenshin attempting to conceal his involvement is yet one more thing which makes no sense, unless he wasn’t doing anything of the sort.”

  “Then, pray, what was he trying to do?”

  “Make a shikigami to attack whatever threat Mai represents to him, which is what he did do. As for the crudeness and apparent haste of the spell . . . what if, rather, this is the best he could do under the circumstances?”

  “What circumstances, Lord Yamada?”

  “This is, I think, the real question.”

  Kenji looked grim. “If there is a danger here, and it’s clear to us both now there is, it must act soon. Tomorrow the Echigo governor arrives with additional archers, and the temple will be rededicated. Once that happens, Lord Yoshiie will have discharged his diplomatic obligations to the Shibata and be free to take his now very considerable force of allies north into Dewa, join his father and the Kiyohara forces assembled there, and march directly through the mountain passes into Mutsu, still far in advance of the winter snows. Any further attacks on Lord Yoshiie will have to be direct, and he is more than capable of meeting them. Whatever evil has managed to insinuate itself within Yahiko temple will be left thwarted, and Lord Sadato and the Abe Clan will be the ones in peril.”

  “So whatever trap Lord Tenshin has managed to set in place will have to be sprung soon. I think we both know the consequences if he succeeds.”

  Our quarters were in sight now. Guards patrolled the perimeter and were placed at the entrances, as we’d requested.

  “Let’s go check on Mai. She’s probably worried.”

  “You go ahead. I need to think for a bit. The night air is good for this.”

  Good the night air might have been, but my thoughts refused to clarify anything. The worst part was I firmly believed the answer was dancing in plain sight of me and I simply could not see it. No, a nun did not open the main gate—it was impossible. Did a nun let a lover in the back gate? Almost—but not quite—equally impossible. Nor, as Rie and my own common sense told me, would such a ploy even be necessary. The assassins always had the means to enter the nunnery, just as surely as they had the means to enter the main compound—the same technique would have worked easily. Why didn’t they use it?

  Because they knew the gate would be opened. The enemy was already within the walls.

  It was the only answer that made any sense at all, so therefore it was not impossible. I merely did not understand how it was done, which was not the same thing. Every method I was able to think of until now had already been considered and then discarded. However the breach at the gate had been achieved, the method was one I had not yet considered. But what was left?

  If Mai does know, I’m running out of time to solve the puzzle. If she does not . . .

  It occurred to me, in such a case, I might be out of time, period.

  For want of a better idea, I left the night to the stars and guards and went inside to find Kenji shaking his head in exasperation. “For a moment I believed Mai had run away again.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Hiding in a clothes trunk. I considered hauling her out, but that seemed a little harsh.”

  I frowned. “What clothes trunk?”

  “The one Lord Yoshiie sent over. There’s one in our room, as well.”

  I went to see what Kenji was talking about, and there was, indeed, a lacquered trunk of considerable size. Neither I nor Kenji would have fit in it, but if the one in Mai’s rooms was the same, she’d have little trouble. I opened the lid.

  “There’s a new hitatare in here.”

  “Also new sandals, leggings, and robes appropriate for a priest,” Kenji said. “I already looked. Lord Yoshiie apparently heard about the sad shape of your current clothing after the ghost’s attack.”

  “Either that or he did not wish us to dishonor our company in the rededication ceremony and feast,” I said, “but it was considerate of him all the same.”

  More than considerate. The new clothes were of far better quality even than the ones he had first provided, which, by comparison, were probably not much good now for anything but rags. I was suddenly in the mood for a bath, but first things came first. I went into Mai’s room, announcing myself before I entered, and saw another similar trunk. The lid rose just enough for her to peek out at me.

  “There is no mamushi,” I said. “The Shibata nun will not be returning. But she was not what you were worried about, was she? No. Come on out, Mai-chan. It’s only Kenji and me. You’re safe. Please get out of there before you rumple your new clothes.”

  The lid slowly raised, and then Mai stood up. I noted then there was no chance that she’d put her new garments in disarray, as they had already been removed and placed neatly across her bedding. It was a fine new set of robes, three layers not counting a Chinese-style jacket in summer green. Such garb wouldn’t have been out of place for an Imperial servant, though a noblewoman would have had to wear many more such layers to get the proper effect. I sometimes wondered how they managed to move at all.

  “So it appears you will be going to the feast after all,” I said, whereupon Mai sunk herself back down in the trunk and closed the lid.

  I sighed. “Never mind. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to go, but I understood from my sister that you had been excused.”

  The lid dropped the last few inches with a resounding thump.

  “Mai, I meant what I said to you. I will make excuses if necessary, but you will not be forced to attend if you don’t wish it. But why not? Tomoko-ana and Lady Rie will be there. I also understand a new prioress has been chosen. Don’t you wish to meet her?”

  Apparently not. The lid remained firmly closed.

  “I’m tired of talking to a clothes chest, Mai-chan. Come out of there before you suffocate.”

  For a moment or two I wondered if she was going to ignore me, but the lid finally opened again. Mai stood up, but not before taking a long look around.

  “I said it was just Kenji and me. Who did you think would be here?”

  To no one’s surprise, she didn’t answer me. She simply stepped out of the clothes chest, kneeled in front of me, and bowed low. I took a long breath. “Mai-chan, do you remember the Shibata nun? How you saved my life?”

  She simply bowed lower, which I took for a “yes.” “You weren’t afraid of her, were you? I have to say I certainly was afraid of her. Very afraid. Terrified. But you were not. I wish you could tell me why that was.”

  Mai looked up at me. Her mouth moved as if she wanted to say something, but then it closed again, and her face went as stony as a statue of a Buddha.

  “You’re not ready,” I said. “I know, but I think it’s really important you tell me what is frightening you. How I can I protect you—or any of us—if I don’t know what I’m protecting you from? Do you see my problem? I’m afraid something very bad is about to happen and I’m not going to be able to stop it.”

  Mai looked directly at me then, and her face was a little less stony. I recognized the look in her eyes. It was the same one I had seen in those of the Shibata nun’s ghost—pity.

  Oh, Mai-chan. What do you know that I do not, and will you tell me before it is too late?

  My dreams that night were troubled. I dreamed I was back at Lake Biwa watching Princess Teiko, the woman I loved, about to step off into space from a high cliff. I was too far away and my legs moved so slowly I felt as if I were running through mud. I would be too late again, and there was nothing I could do except to watch her die. But then the figure
I believed to be Princess Teiko changed, and now it was Mai-chan about to step off the cliff, and I was no closer to stopping it. Then Akimasa and Taro and Lord Yoshiie, then Kenji, then Tomoko-ana, and finally Rie, my sister. One by one I watched them all fall and die, and I could do nothing because the ground was mud, and I sank deeper into it with each step.

  Rie died last, and it was she who rose as a rotting corpse from the water of the sacred lake to stare at me accusingly with her hollow eyes. “You couldn’t save me, you know,” she said. “You’re always too late when it really matters.”

  “It’s not too late! This isn’t real!”

  The same look, then, from the Shibata nun and Mai-chan and now on my sister’s rotting face—pity.

  “You’re not as clever as you think you are,” my sister’s corpse said as it sank back into the water. “You never were.”

  Never . . .

  The morning dawned clear and bright. Kenji, not known as an early riser, was already dressed and gone. This was the day of the rededication ceremony, and I knew, hedge priest that he was, his association with Lord Yoshiie had given him a bit more prominence than he was used to, and so he had duties. I did not, save for the usual one of trying to keep Lord Yoshiie alive, and right now I considered his bodyguards of much more use than I was. Fortunately, Lord Yoshiie’s bounty included a less formal set of clothing for daily wear. The hitatare, although very fine, was suitable for formal banquets and such but not for much else. I got dressed and looked in on Mai, who was not in her quarters. I felt a moment of panic before I realized she was sitting in plain sight on the veranda. The guards had changed, but she was still under protection to the extent that someone, including Lord Yoshiie, could be protected from a threat without shape, form, or name.

  “Come with me,” I said to her, and she immediately fell into line behind me as I spoke to the guard, “Let no one save Master Kenji enter while we are gone.”

  “Understood,” he said.

  We went to where breakfast was still available and, once we’d eaten, I considered what to do next. “Shall we visit Lady Rie and Tomoko-ana? I’m sure they’d like to see you.