While Badger acknowledged the gentle rebuke with a nod, Moonshadow concealed his shock. Brother Eagle never called anyone by their pre-Order name! Though Badger was indeed once the great writer and teacher Hosokawa, Eagle would hardly address him as such nowadays. Moonshadow clenched a fist. It had to be the slow-acting poison, striking at Eagle’s mind! What else could explain his muddled reference to serving a lord, a daimyo, instead of their real and far mightier master?
Mantis was also thinking of the Shogun. ‘At sunrise I despatched a message boy to the castle carrying a detailed report of the raid: our damage, losses and, of course, a proposed response … which Brother Eagle and I have already discussed.’
‘Surely we are striking back?’ Groundspider looked for support. He was ignored.
‘We have a system,’ Mantis pressed on. ‘If the Shogun sends no orders of his own by nightfall, it means he wishes to leave this matter to us, and we can then execute our plan. Since this attack might be part of a larger, coordinated Fuma strategy, my message to him included a request to alert all our rural bases by carrier pigeons. If we do end up running our plan, Brother Eagle asked that a special message be flown to one particular base along the Fuma’s homeward route. That conditional request is also in my report.’
‘If we end up running our plan?’ Heron asked. ‘Surely we will? Darkness is virtually upon us, and no rider has come from the castle.’
‘Knowing our Shogun personally,’ Badger said, ‘I predict he’ll send replacement security men and extra carpenters, but let us deal with the Fuma just as we see fit.’
Mantis nodded warmly at their stricken leader. ‘So Brother Eagle believes.’
Heron pointed to the narrowing beam of orange light coming through the window. ‘See … and no rider.’ She turned, locking eyes with Mantis. ‘So how will we deal with them? I’m not even sure I know what just happened! Did they really raid us to launch their Twilight War? Was retaking Snowhawk mere opportunism, since they were coming here to attack us anyway? Or was she actually the focus of the whole, costly raid? I feel like we’re missing something important!’
‘I too have questions,’ Mantis nodded. ‘Apart from those leading each wave, the Fuma we battled were generally second-rate fighters. Look at how many we felled! Why didn’t they send in a uniformly elite force? How could they underestimate us so badly?’
‘With all due respect,’ Badger muttered, ‘I say they didn’t. The Fuma have never thought like either samurai or the other shinobi clans. Their history shows a consistent willingness to sacrifice their juniors, their mediocre agents, even their clients – sometimes in numbers, as we have just experienced – so long as it achieves their goals.’
‘What then, was their goal this time?’ Heron inclined her head. ‘How does Snowhawk fit in with it?’ She looked around earnestly. ‘Maybe she was blackmailed.’
‘I don’t see how that could work.’ Groundspider snorted. ‘Moon here said she started out like us, an orphan, so it’s not like there’s a family to threaten.’
‘Hmm,’ Badger frowned. ‘Their leader, Fuma Kotaro, is a real old fox. If he –’
‘Enough. Enough guessing,’ Eagle said wearily. ‘Let me speak … while I still can.’
Helped by Mantis and Heron, Eagle strained forward and up into a dignified, straight-backed seated position. A twitch of muscle in his cheek betrayed Eagle’s tightly clenched teeth. He drew in a long, slow breath as he forced his eyes wide. Finally, smothering a sigh of pain, Eagle put his shoulders back and looked around the group. Somehow, he was again magnificent.
Moonshadow’s eyes grew hot. Eagle’s determination was utterly heartrending. Despite his appalling condition, the master was rallying the last of his ki so he could put their house in order before the poison addled him totally.
‘Our foes in this matter appear to be Clan Fuma,’ Eagle said carefully. ‘I believe them to be merely the sword and Moonshadow’s old admirer, Lord Silver Wolf, the hand wielding it. All of you, beware his schemes more than ever, now that we’re off balance.’
‘With all diligence, master.’ Mantis bowed his head. ‘And as to that sword –’
‘Ah yes, my orders.’ Eagle’s hands began to shake. He quickly hid them in his jacket, then scanned the group imperiously. ‘I … I have already given Brother Mantis the details, but here is the short version: a two-man team will be sent after Snowhawk.’
‘Yes!’ Moonshadow and Groundspider blurted in unison. Moonshadow glanced at his colleague, only too aware that they hadn’t reacted for the same reason. He was instantly seeing a rescue; Groundspider, no doubt, a darker, more final outcome. Eagle’s next words confirmed his thoughts, bringing both points of view out into the open.
‘Agent Snowhawk,’ Eagle said firmly, ‘is to be tracked, located and appraised. Clearly, we cannot just sit back and let the Fuma have her. If she is loyal and was snatched using some wicked magic, then she must be rescued before the Fuma can prise training secrets and mission knowledge from her. If, however, she was an infiltrator all along, then action must still be taken before she willingly hands them our innards.’
Action must be taken? Moonshadow frowned. Just what Groundspider hoped for!
The light in Eagle’s eyes grew dimmer. Squeezing Mantis’s shoulder, he glanced around the circle. ‘Brothers Mantis and Badger will explain the rest.’ Eagle turned his head and stared into the former duellist’s eyes. ‘Mantis, my friend, I pass the mantle of my authority. The Grey Light Order is yours now.’ His voice thinned. ‘Protect them.’
Eagle’s eyes closed. He crumpled on the spot, head sagging to his chest. Heron gasped. Moonshadow shuddered. While Mantis held Eagle’s head up, Heron leapt to her feet, hurried to the door and called to the household staff busily cleaning up the archives.
A bald, hunched old man and a pretty middle-aged woman entered the room, each carrying a freshly lit paper lantern. They set them down before gently lifting Eagle.
‘Make up a soft sick bed for him in the corner of my workroom,’ Heron ordered.
The servants bowed low to her then carried Eagle away with great care, leaving a lantern in the centre of the tatami to illuminate the darkening room. Every eye tracked Eagle’s departure sorrowfully. The door slid shut and for the longest moment, nobody could speak. Moonshadow stole a glance at Heron. Her eyes were closed. One hand covered the lowest third of her face. Beneath it, her chin was twitching.
He hung his head, drew in the pungent, fatty odour of the lantern’s oil and tried to calm his own racing thoughts. So many questions! Was Eagle going to die? If they found Snowhawk, exactly how could her loyalty – or otherwise – be established?
‘We weighed this plan from all angles,’ Mantis said. ‘At my insistence, we even debated the karma, good and bad, that might flow from each of the possible outcomes.’
As Moonshadow looked up, Brother Mantis raised a hand and pointed at him.
‘You and Groundspider will be the two-man team. As the senior, Groundspider is the designated leader. Brother Badger intends to equip you both this evening. You’re then to rest until just before dawn tomorrow, when you must steal horses and set out in the dark. Travel in disguise. Intercept and ambush the Fuma on their journey home.’
‘Shouldn’t we leave right now?’ Moonshadow blurted. ‘They already have a huge lead on us.’
Mantis wagged his shaven head. ‘That’s true, but think about it,’ he said patiently. ‘Their raiding party was sizeable and even its survivors number quite a few, so they have no choice but to travel on foot. No matter how good their disguises.’
‘Why?’ Groundspider’s face twisted as he tried to figure out what Mantis meant.
‘Of course.’ Heron almost smiled. ‘Any group of non-samurai with so many horses would quickly attract official attention out on the road. Checkpoint barriers aside, any wandering public service samurai might demand to see their travel papers. Inspectors usually report every big group they sight anyway, because despite our new peace,
distrust between fiefdoms remains high. The Fuma know all this too, so would egress on foot.’
‘Let’s suppose,’ Mantis nodded, ‘that they break into a forced march as they hit the mountains. I calculate that you’ll still catch them before they can make Fumayama.’
‘I get it!’ Groundspider leered. ‘Hmm … they’ll be exhausted, with many wounded among them.’ He clicked his tongue anxiously. ‘But Mant– I mean, master, with all due respect, what if they break into a run up there? What if we just don’t catch them in time?’
‘Then you must pursue them – and Snowhawk – into their lair. At least, if it comes to that, you won’t be going in blind or helplessly visible. Thanks to Brother Badger.’
Groundspider and Moonshadow exchanged looks, then both rounded on Badger.
The archivist thatched his fingers together and smiled with a faintly superior air. ‘Yes, yes, I have mission-specific gear for you. Ashiko foot spikes, in case ice-crossings are required. And two sets of the latest Grey Light Order stealth suits, developed only recently, still awaiting field trials. They’re tough, warm, and dyed in earth-tones, with colour-matching leg armour and lightweight, fish scale-style gauntlets.’
Groundspider’s face wrinkled with scepticism. ‘But will they make us invisible?’
‘Rock-coloured suits and armour? No.’ Badger sighed triumphantly. ‘But my latest camouflage invention has that problem covered! Your suits come with the device already fitted, ready to deploy. I call it the ninja rock-trick cloak!’ He raised his chin.
‘Strong name.’ Groundspider blinked. ‘And … just what does it do?’
Mantis waved a hand. ‘Badger will demonstrate the invention before you leave. Remember, if you catch the Fuma in the open, you won’t need any of this equipment.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Badger put in helpfully, ‘it may all be new, but it should work.’
Groundspider spluttered. ‘Should? Did you just say should? Well if it doesn’t, and I lose my large head, brace yourself for years of creepy noises in those archives!’
‘Creepy farting noises,’ Moonshadow clarified.
‘By all the gods!’ the archivist snapped. ‘It will work, does that make you happy?’
‘No, not really, but what choice –’ Groundspider began.
Heron quickly held up a finger, silencing the pair. Decorum was restored.
‘Thank you, Sister Heron.’ Mantis smiled. ‘Now, gentlemen, before further detailing your orders, I’ll ask Brother Badger to brief you on Clan Fuma’s unusual home base. I think, with Twilight War upon us, we should all hear it.’ He gave Badger a nod.
Badger returned a seated bow, then dipped a hand into his jacket. Out came a large, folded piece of pale handmade paper. As Badger opened it with care, grumbling softly about the smoke stains on its edges, Moonshadow saw that it was a map. Badger spread the map on the tatami in the centre of their circle, coughed hard into his hand, and started to speak.
‘Most shadow clans have a home village. Not the Fuma: they live underground, inside a hollow mountain that serves as an impregnable fortress as well as their home. This map comes from information collected during Snowhawk’s debriefing, just before she swore loyalty to us. It shows not only the location, but the interior of the Fuma’s mountain base: Fumayama, as it’s known. All its entrances lie above the permanent snowline, so if you end up going there, you’ll soon forget that it’s actually summer. A disused silver mine, Fumayama has man-made tunnels and an extensive natural cave system.’
‘A mine?’ Groundspider shrugged. ‘How did shinobi get their hands on a mine?’
‘Fifty years ago, the mine’s lodes of silver sharply declined. As a result, the desperate clan-owned mining company grew reckless. Hunting for new lodes, they sank ever-deeper shafts, carved even remoter tunnels, until some disaster occurred. Nobody seems to know exactly what happened, but it’s clear that over half the miners died in a very short space of time. Not surprisingly, the mine was abandoned. It remained unvisited for years until, according to Snowhawk, the area’s Regent gave it to the Fuma.’
‘What?’ Moonshadow angled his head. ‘A regional nobleman just gave a mine to the Fuma ninja? Why?’
Badger grinned cynically. ‘He was showing gratitude for, of all things, their help in stemming a local peasants’ rebellion. You see, the Fuma assassinated the uprising’s well-hidden leader, which delighted the Regent and made it easy for his samurai to win. Quite fitting in a way that the Fuma should get a mine. Miners use gunpowder, which the Fuma have always excelled at making. We’ve seen firsthand the effectiveness of their bombs and miniature cannons, but it’s said they can also skilfully manipulate huge blasts, instantly creating moats and redoubts on the battlefield. Silver Wolf would love that!’
Moonshadow glanced upwards, pinching his nose. ‘Well, their gunpowder stinks.’
‘Ah … ah!’ Badger’s eyes glinted with scholarly enthusiasm. ‘I’m glad you raised that! The awful residual odour is because of a unique ingredient they add …’
‘Why did you have to get him excited?’ Groundspider whispered.
‘Like us they add mugwort, moxa and camphor to their powder mix, but they also, for reasons I don’t yet fathom, add horse dung! Now, my working theory is that it –’
‘Brother Badger.’ Mantis groaned. ‘Perhaps you could finish on the rock-writing.’
‘Uh? Oh! My apologies.’ Badger took a breath, reined in his academic zeal, and eyed the young duo. ‘There’s a small landmark to watch out for, which identifies your safest entry point: it lies near what Snowhawk called Fumayama’s back door. She said she rarely passed that entrance, but once noticed some characters there, cut into the rock. Nobody knows who carved these kanji, or when. They form the words for hell and lips.’
‘Great! We’re being sent to the lips of hell,’ Groundspider said slowly. ‘Where lots of people have already died and a whole army of hostile ninja lie in wait to slay us.’
‘A fair summary.’ Badger’s nose crinkled. ‘What’s your point?’
Groundspider rolled his eyes.
Mantis flashed a grim smile. ‘Enough: here are the fine details of your orders.’
Moonshadow’s stomach fluttered. The nastiest bit of all was coming, he felt it.
‘If shown to have been abducted,’ Mantis said, ‘Snowhawk is to be rescued, striking the first counter-blow in this Twilight War, one which should deter the Fuma long enough for us to regather our agents and freelancers.’
There was that word should again, Moonshadow observed silently.
‘If, however,’ Mantis concluded, ‘Snowhawk is proved to have been a double agent, Moonshadow is ordered to prevent her from giving the Fuma our secrets and intelligence …’ He paused, staring into Moonshadow’s eyes. ‘… by whatever means.’
Moonshadow’s throat constricted. He had been expecting this, but the order, subtle as it was, tore through him like an arrow. He saw a struggle in Mantis’s eyes, too. Buddhist Mantis, for whom all life was sacred, was also now Master Mantis of the Grey Light Order. That Mantis was obliged to order Moonshadow to correct his own mistake, by assassinating the traitor he had brought inside their walls.
A traitor who had saved his life. A traitor he still believed to be falsely accused. Moonshadow swallowed hard. ‘But only if it’s proved that she was … an infiltrator.’
The damning word almost stuck in his dry, narrowed throat.
‘Correct,’ Mantis said with no trace of emotion. ‘I am simply ordering this: learn the truth … then act accordingly.’
Moonshadow closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Perhaps he should have given a fuller account of her capture and let the touchy hypnosis debate run its course. Too late now! If he tried to raise new facts this late in the piece, he’d seem mad, or a liar.
Groundspider dug him in the ribs. ‘Relax, kid, if it comes to that, you can do it. All part of the life. And hey, if you just can’t, step aside and I’ll do the icky duty myself.’
&nb
sp; Icky duty? He made it sound like emptying latrine boxes. Moonshadow lowered his head. Maybe this really was going to be a mission to hell. What if, in the end, it turned out he was wrong about Snowhawk?
After seeing the proof, could he do it? Could he destroy his best friend?
Late that evening, Moonshadow and Groundspider met in the landscaped garden just outside the archives. The night was warm and humid, the clear sky sparkling with stars.
Tall iron tripods stood in a circle in a miniature sea of raked white sand at the garden’s centre. Atop each tripod, black iron lavers cupped burning logs that crackled as they threw out the scents of cedar and birch. Flames danced, making the little ocean’s perfectly raked lines glisten. The rest of the garden lay dappled, fingers of light and shadow tiger-striping its angular, sculpted trees and mossy feature rocks.
In a patch of light near an ornamental bamboo fence, the Order’s three resident animals lazed and played at annoying one another. Motto was trying to sleep, his big head on his paws. Banken and Saru alternated between stretching and rolling on the pebbled ground, and stalking each other in continuous, pointless circles around the dog.
Every so often, Saru would leap over Motto, who would snap at him half-heartedly and let out a long, tired huff. Banken kept circling, looking very superior, her swishing tail a sign that she deeply enjoyed frustrating Badger’s monkey.
Nearby, Badger himself waited beside the brightest laver, two stacks of equipment and neatly folded clothing arranged behind him on a long, low stone bench. The raked sand crunched underfoot as Moonshadow and Groundspider approached. Badger bowed, cleared his throat, then impatiently directed the mission team to the stone bench.
‘First of all, take this.’ Badger handed Groundspider a folded piece of paper. It was oil-soaked, making it waterproof. ‘A simplified copy of the briefing map.’ He saw Moonshadow’s surprised expression. ‘I know, you field agents usually memorise everything, but Mantis said this is an exception. He says that given the lack of time and Fumayama’s complexity, you’ll need a map to navigate should you enter the Fuma base. He reasons that if you don’t mark it in any way, no harm can be done. Even if you’re captured and it’s taken, an unmarked map will betray nothing of your objectives.’
The Twilight War Page 7