The Best of Beneath Ceaseless Skies Online Magazine, Year One

by Beneath Ceaseless Skies

  “I showed Master Rencho the Fujiwara mon, remember? He expects us to fetch out the treasure tonight. Surely we would not leave without it?”

  “Are you’re telling me that there is a treasure here?”

  I sighed. “Whether there is an item of intrinsic value or not is irrelevant. The point is: those men following us do believe there is, and all the ones who died trying to find it before us did believe it.”

  Kenji’s knuckles were white on his staff. “What do we do now?”

  “We fetch the treasure, of course. Master Rencho expects to ambush us and take it when we try to leave. I would hate to disappoint him.”

  “As simple as that? Assuming there is a treasure, you don’t even know where it is!”

  “Of course I do. My brother told me.”

  Kenji just stared at me. “If this is how insane you get when you’re sober, the first thing I’m going to do if we get out of this mess is to buy you the biggest saké cask I can afford.”

  I grunted. “No more than enough to toast the Emperor’s health, I wager. And my mind is as clear as an autumn sky. Allow me to demonstrate.”

  Kenji followed me through the echoing old mansion, though now we entered the ruin only because it was the shortest path to our true goal. We walked carefully on the rotting floor and out onto the rear veranda. My brother was waiting for us, standing between us and the small stone shrine. I took the bundle from my shoulder and set it carefully on the grass, then drew my sword and advanced on the image of my brother’s ghost.

  “If you want to live,” I said, “leave now.”

  Kasuke stared at me and didn’t move.

  Kenji walked up beside me, his priest’s staff in front of him. “And you call yourself sane? How dare you threaten your brother? And how do you plan to kill him if he’s already dead? That’s a trick beyond even you.”

  I sighed. “Kenji, you asked last night why my brother’s ghost could be in this place. After some reflection, the answer is obvious—there is no reason he would be. He had no attachment to it, or even knowledge of it. Therefore, this is not my brother.”

  I addressed Kasuke’s image. “You are skilled. You’ve stolen my memory of Kasuke and fooled my eyes into seeing my brother so that I would not attack you. It was sound strategy. It has failed.”

  I took another step and the image retreated. “Leave,” I said. “I will not warn you a third time.”

  My brother’s image was gone in an instant. There was a nearly overpowering stench, and then in its place stood an eight-foot ogre with red skin, black hair, and an iron cudgel. The monster roared and raised his club to strike. To his credit, Kenji did not flee. He did, however, take one step back and started chanting a sutra. I assumed it was one of protection, but I didn’t even blink.

  “So be it.”

  My blade was in motion before the cudgel even began its descent; I took two steps forward, made my best judgment of my foe, and chose my target. Fortunately, I chose well. One stroke and the fight was over. I did not congratulate myself on either my bravery or skill, as I knew I owed the victory to neither. All that had been required was to keep a clear head, and so I succeeded because I had not been drinking. The idea depressed me. I wanted very much to be drinking.

  The ogre in its turn was gone. What lay on the ground dead from my sword cut was a little wizened creature not much larger than a monkey, with a human-looking face but the teeth and horns of a devil. A very small, weak devil. I started to clean my sword before Kenji stopped chanting. Apparently his eyes had been closed the entire time.

  “Lord Yamada, what. . . ?”

  “A youkai. Just some little shape-shifting monster with more skill than sense. I suspected as much as soon as I saw what appeared to be my brother’s ghost. As I said, my brother has no business either here or with me. Yet what I saw wanted me to believe it was my brother. So I took some time yesterday to ask myself why that was.”

  Kenji stared at the pitiful little creature. “I retract my remark about your sanity. . .for the moment. What was your answer?”

  “The answer was that I would never attack my own brother, alive or dead. What do you think you might have seen if you had been closer to this creature when we first encountered the thing yesterday?”

  “I don’t know,” Kenji said, though of course he was lying.

  I smiled. “I do. It would have been the image of something you couldn’t—or wouldn’t—fight. Quite clever, really. A skill that could potentially drive off even the most powerful attacker, if it was fooled. I wasn’t. The image of the ogre was simply a last resort.”

  “But why the ogre at all? Why did it not flee, knowing its ruse had failed?”

  I walked up to the small shrine building. “I think the poor creature had become attached to this, rather like a miser with its hoard. As those pitiful ghosts guard the compound, this creature guarded this shrine. That’s how I knew what I sought was here.”

  I opened the door to the shrine. The moonlight caught the glimmer of gold. “Please fetch my box, Kenji.” He did as I directed, and I reached within the shrine and removed what lay within, placing it in the lacquer box. Kenji watched with more than usual interest.

  “Kannon? A golden statue of the Goddess of Mercy?”

  “That was what I was sent to find.”

  Kenji let out a low whistle. “No wonder people have been getting themselves killed to search for this.”

  I laughed. “Rubbish. No one had any idea what was here. They just knew that something was, and the guardian ghosts by their presence appeared to confirm this. Let’s be on our way.”

  Kenji scowled. “Lord Yamada, aren’t you forgetting something? ‘Master Rencho’ and his murderous monks are out there waiting for us.”

  “I have not forgotten. Let us greet them, shall we?”

  Kenji sighed. “I retract my retracting. You are definitely insane.”

  I didn’t feel inclined to argue the point. Yet, despite his misgivings, Kenji went with me when I approached the open gate where the door of the compound had once stood. I judged the distance as best I could and stopped about twenty paces from the dark opening. In the weak lamplight I saw a faint glow from the top of each ruined gatepost.

  Loyal servants of the Fujiwara, I ask of you one last duty. For what I am about to force you to do, forgive me. It wasn’t a prayer, exactly, but it was the best I could do just then.

  “Master Rencho. So good of you to come to meet us, but as I said, we will not be returning to the temple tonight.”

  There was silence for a moment, but after a while a familiar figure appeared out of the gloom and stood just outside the gate opening. “Clever man, but you will not be returning anywhere unless you hand over what you’ve found. My men have the compound surrounded!”

  I smiled. “Master Rencho, you and I both know that you have less than a dozen men. This compound is too large for you to cover all the gaps in sufficient force. My companion and I could slip out at any one of a score of places, and you couldn’t stop us.”

  He laughed. I heard cruelty and murder reflected there. “No, but we would see where you emerged. We know this area. We would track you down before you got very far and make you regret our exertions.”

  That part was doubtless true enough, if he had in fact dispersed his men. I was gambling our lives that he had not yet done so.

  “No need for threats, Master Rencho. Kenji, your lantern please.”

  I set the box on the ground on its side with the lid facing Rencho, and placed the lantern in front of that just off to one side so that the glow illuminated the box without blocking their view of it. “Behold your prize.”

  I opened the lid, and the lantern threw back the shine of gold. “Kenji, run!”

  I was already away, and Kenji followed me, nearly blind in the dark. “Lord Yamada, what are you—”

  He didn’t get to finish. A roar had gone up from the front of the compound as several men rushed through the gap between the gateposts. So much f
or my insanity. Real monks would never have fallen for my trick. Bandits, on the other hand, were as predictable as the change of seasons. The gleam of gold drew them through the empty gateway, forgetting the curse, forgetting everything save their greed.

  Also forgetting, as I knew they would, the two wretched but very deadly ghosts.

  We heard the first scream before we could even turn around. I instantly regretted the backward glance I took then. The two formerly winsome ghosts were in the full power of their wrath. Their black hair struck blue sparks against the night; their white limbs had grown long and ended, not with delicate hands, but enlarged talons. Their teeth were as long and pointed as icicles, and they were, quite literally, tearing the bandits apart. They took down those few who had the sense to try to flee first, and then they turned on the rest.

  “Kenji, hurry!”

  Before we could get back, it was almost over. As one, the two vengeful ghosts turned on the only survivor, who happened to be Master Rencho, lying whimpering on the ground not five paces from the golden statue. Kenji started muttering a sutra as best he could, but he was winded from running, and I knew it would be too late. I had no choice. I reached into my robe again and drew out, not the plaque, but my original safe passage.

  “In the name of the Emperor!”

  Loyalty had kept us safe so far. I prayed it would again. There was a moment when I feared that it wouldn’t be enough, that all was lost, but the two ghosts stopped a mere pace or two from their victim.

  I approached them, holding the symbol in front of me. “You know my authority. This man is my prisoner,” I said as I advanced. “Do not harm him.”

  The ghosts resumed their usual appearances, along with the sadness that had come with it—the sadness I had felt at our first meeting with them. It was more overwhelming than even their fury, and I was not certain how long I could bear it. If I was right about what I was about to do, then none of us would have to bear it, ever again.

  “It’s over,” I said to them. “The last item your master left behind has been recovered and will be returned to its rightful place. This I promise as a faithful servant of the Emperor. Your duty is discharged.” I kept my own doubts out of my mind and spoke with the certainty of command, of right, and then I held my breath.

  “Onegai. . . . Please. . . .”

  It was the first time either of them had spoken. Both women reached out toward me, not in threat but in entreaty. At first I didn’t understand what they were asking, but then I realized what they wanted and I remembered to breathe again. I took the Fujiwara mon from my robe and held it out. “Go in peace and take this token with you, as proof of your devotion.”

  They both put their hands on the bronze, and it floated away from me. In another moment they and the plaque had vanished.

  “I guess we won’t need your services after all, Kenji-san.” I walked over to Master Rencho and kicked him, hard. “Stop your gibbering, man.”

  The pain seemed to bring the man’s mind back into focus. Now his mind appeared to be focused on the tip of my tachi, which I was currently pressing into the hollow of his neck. “If I spare your life, will you promise to return to your temple and become the monk you’ve pretended to be? The temple will need new residents.”

  He licked his lips. “I swear.”

  “Then go.”

  Master Rencho didn’t need a second invitation. He scrambled past the bloody rags that were all that remained of his followers and disappeared into the night.

  “Now you’re trading insanity for foolishness,” Kenji said. “Do you honestly believe that creature will mend his ways? Most likely he’s running back to Uji to find more men!”

  “Likely? I’m counting on it. He will return in force, but not nearly soon enough to catch us. We will travel east through the woods until we reach the Iga barrier, then north. We can pick up the east-west road in a day or two without difficulty.”

  Now Kenji blinked like some night creature that had been thrust too suddenly into the light. “Counting. . . ?”

  “Master Rencho knows we’ve found the ‘treasure’ because he saw it with his own eyes. Unless I misjudge the man, within hours the entire village of Uji will know. Within days, the entire province and beyond will know.”

  “And?”

  “And they will return to this place looking for us. We won’t be here, of course. Neither will the ghosts.”

  Kenji looked around, frowning. “Are you sure they’re gone?”

  I was. There was no trace of their heavy melancholy about the place now. What sadness remained, as always, was my own.

  “Quite sure. So the good people of Uji will be free to tear the remnants of this place apart, for all anyone cares. They won’t find anything. And no one else will come here to die. Or for any other reason.” I closed the lid of the box and picked it up.

  “The Emperor sent you, alone, to destroy those bandits?!”

  I smiled. “Hardly. I was sent to retrieve this item just as I told you. Nor did the Emperor send me here. I was, however, acting in his name. Not the same thing. You weren’t supposed to know that, by the way. If you tell anyone, I will kill you. I mean that.”

  Kenji looked serious. “I know you do, so if it’s my death to speak, then I will know the full story of what I am not speaking about,” Kenji said. “Who sent you?”

  “Princess Fujiwara no Ai.”

  For a moment Kenji just stared at me. “The Empress?!”

  I shrugged. “Yes, but more to the point: a direct descendent of Governor Fujiwara no En.”

  “Lord Yamada, everyone knows that Princess Ai is proud, vain, and of most disagreeable temper. Are you telling me that she sent you out of the charity of her soul to lift the curse on this place?”

  “Of course not. She knew of the statue’s existence, doubtless from a family tradition, and she engaged me to try and fetch it. I fear it was my idea that the statue’s removal could be the means to break the curse. Princess Ai could not have cared less. For my part, the plight of those two wretched spirits perhaps clouded my better judgment.”

  “Then what you showed the two ghosts. . . ?”

  “. . .was the Imperial mon, the symbol of the Emperor. Against such authority, even their original master would bow. As attendants still in faithful service, they did the same.”

  I removed the golden image from the box and casually tossed it to Kenji, who let go of his staff as he struggled to catch it.

  “Lord Yamada, are you really insane—” He stopped. He held up the statue, feeling its weight, or rather lack of, in disbelief. “This isn’t gold!”

  I smiled. “No, it’s gilded wood. A fine carving well-protected by the stone shrine, but a simple devotional image and no more.”

  “And the rumors of treasure?”

  “Rumors only, probably fed by the presence of the ghosts, who were obviously guarding something. No one knew of the statue, save a few members of the Fujiwara family, the two unfortunate ghosts, and that pitiful youkai. But, thanks to Master Rencho, soon everyone will know of it. They will tell stories of the marvelous golden statue plucked from the ruins of this place. They’ll know it’s no longer here and thus not seek it. And even if rumors of treasure persist those who come here will find nothing, suffer nothing save wasted time. I have completed my mission. And the curse on the Mansion of Bones is lifted. In all respects.”

  “And the bandits?”

  “At first I felt guilty for tricking the ghosts into dealing with them for us, but that was foolish of me. I was forgetting that the bandits of Uji were the physical and spiritual descendants of the people responsible for the ghosts’ suffering in the first place. What I did was no trick.”

  Kenji scowled at the carnage around us. “No? What would you call this then?”

  “A reward for devotion beyond the grave?” I smiled a grim smile. “No, Kenji-san. I call it justice.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Richard Parks lives in Mississippi with his wife and a varying number o
f cats. His fiction has appeared in Asimov’s, Realms of Fantasy, Fantasy Magazine, Weird Tales, and numerous anthologies including Year’s Best Fantasy and Fantasy: The Best of the Year. His third story collection, On the Banks of the River of Heaven, is due out from Prime Books in 2010.

  THE MATHEMATICS OF FAITH

  Jonathan Wood

  THEY LOCK ME AWAY with everything I could need except an exit. As they brick up the door of my Pater’s apartment they tell me that if I prove my own blasphemy to be truth then that will be consolation enough, and I see the laughter in their eyes. My Mater stands with them, imploring me to rescind my work, to claim failure, and to embrace the incorrect.

  “A prayer,” she begs, “a single prayer and they will forgive you.”

  But I refuse, my lips sealed. The truth does not compromise. It can be ignored by others, it can be buried under lies and mysticism, but it still will be, and I will not partake in its obfuscation.

  I am fortunate that my Pater lived comfortably. I have been permitted to keep all that he willed to me. My own belongings are lined up along the central hallway, as I requested. The rooms have, of course, their own supply of water, which in turn feeds the vegetable garden. Certain lab animals in my possession will breed fast enough to allow for occasional consumption. I certainly will not starve, unless it be for company.

  My first task is one of organization. Most of my Pater’s furniture remains (except for his dining set, which is unsuitable for laboratory purposes) and a couple of his other accoutrements: his gramophone is superior to mine, for example, and I also find a projector and several boxes containing decks of filmcards, which I hope will pass some of my more lonesome hours.

  I decide that my Pater’s former bedchambers will suffice as a storage room for now. It is undeniable that I will need to sleep, but I am not yet able to regard that disease-ridden deathbed as a place to rest.

  I awake early on the morning of the first day, ready to resume my experiments. I spend the morning reviewing my notes and writing a summary in a fresh journal: