Kasami frowned. “Was the fight fair?”
“Insofar as a fight between a trained killer and a hot-headed fool can be, presumably.” Shin sighed. “You know as well as I do that in a case like this, the law is not on the side of the yojimbo – especially one who is a clanless ronin, besides.”
Kasami raised an eyebrow. “They had not adopted her?”
“Apparently the Zeshi did not consider it a matter of great importance – or perhaps they were waiting to see whether she was a suitable candidate,” Shin said. “Either way, I doubt she’ll be adopted now. She might have been defending her mistress, but she killed a member of a high-ranking family, in their seat of power, during a period of diplomatic uncertainty. She almost certainly realized her fate the moment she drew her sword.”
Kasami turned her attentions back to her own blade. “So she ran.”
“That is what I’m told. We’ll see what she has to say for herself when we arrive.”
Kasami looked up. “They haven’t executed her yet?”
“No. Apparently Zeshi Aimi is a favored cousin of our own Iuchi Konomi, and as daughter of Iuchi Shichiro, who is well placed in his family, she prevailed upon familial bonds to ensure that there was some… delay in sentencing.”
“Why do the Iuchi care?”
It was a good question. Fondness alone did not explain Ruri’s continued survival. Shin had wondered at it himself. “I have no answer for that. Theories, plenty – answers, none. Would you care to hear one?”
“No.”
“Too bad. There are deep currents in motion here. A rift between vassal families can easily lead to the same between the great families of the clan. The Iuchi, with great foresight, wish to head this off, if possible.”
“Then why send you?”
“Who better? The Crane and the Unicorn have long been allies. And if there is one thing a Crane is good at, besides meddling, it is family politics.”
Kasami frowned. “Is this a favor for the Unicorn – or for Lady Konomi?”
“A favor for one, in repayment of a debt to the other,” Shin said, blithely. “A satisfying arrangement for all concerned.” He watched the afternoon light play on the water. “Besides, it is always good to get away from the city for a bit.”
“And what about Lord Kenzō?”
Shin smirked. It hadn’t been difficult to talk Kenzō into acting as the temporary theater manager in his absence. The courtier had seemed almost giddy at the prospect of such a challenge. “Master Ito assures me that he has the dutiful Kenzō well in hand.” He’d left Ito to watch over Kenzō, and make sure he did nothing save straighten the books and ensure the rebuilding continued on schedule.
“Besides,” Shin went on, “there is no need for us to be present while he sniffs about our finances. It is better for us both if I do not hover over him. If he finds anything untoward, well, he knows where we’ll be.” He smiled faintly. “And anyway, it is not as if we can turn down this opportunity to strengthen the bonds between Crane and Unicorn. I’m sure my grandfather would agree.”
“Convenient,” Kasami said.
“It is, rather, isn’t it?” Shin gestured at her with his fan. “Cheer up. It’s not as if we’re heading into enemy territory, after all.”
“These are not our lands, and Unicorn ways are not our ways.”
“Then we shall simply have to adapt.” Shin tapped his lips with the fan. “What do you know of Hisatu-Kesu?” It wasn’t the largest city in Kaihi Province, but it was the most interesting, to his way of judging such things. It climbed the mountains, stretching from the peaks to the foothills, and was somewhat famous for the quality of its hot springs.
“It’s a city.”
“What else?”
Kasami shrugged. “A Unicorn city. Is there anything else to know?”
“Context, Kasami. Context is key. We must know everything in order to judge what has bearing on our investigation, and what does not.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Investigation? What investigation?”
Shin’s eyes widened in mock-innocence. “Why, the investigation Lady Konomi asked me to undertake, obviously.”
“They’ve already got the killer,” Kasami pointed out.
“So they say. But we both know that these matters are often more complex than they seem on the surface.”
“I do not know any such thing.” Kasami sounded affronted by the thought. “It would be unseemly to overcomplicate this matter for your own amusement.”
“Which is not what I’m planning to do at all, I assure you,” Shin said, easily. “But if one is to do a thing, one must do it well. As the duly chosen representative of the Iuchi, I must bend my shoulder to the wheel, and push it along the track.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Wherever said track might lead.”
Kasami’s expression was one of consternation. Somewhat to his disappointment, however, she chose not to press the matter. “Context,” she said, finally. “What is the context?”
“The Zeshi and the Shiko have been competitors for some time, and the Unicorn have made numerous attempts through the years to quell that rivalry. While the conflict is largely inoffensive in general, in Hisatu-Kesu it has become something of an issue.”
“Bloodshed?”
“More than once. As well as accusations of sabotage, bribery, and the like.”
Kasami was silent for a moment. She lowered her gaze back to her sword. “You’re even more of a fool than I thought, agreeing to this.”
Shin was about to reply when he heard a sudden commotion from the deck below. He looked around. “Where’s Kitano?”
Kasami paused. “Where do you think?”
Shin sighed and rose. “I’ll just collect him, shall I?”
“Let them cut off one of his fingers,” Kasami called after him. “He might finally learn his lesson if he loses another one.”
Shin ignored her and descended the rough wooden steps to the deck below. Most of the crew were busy with their own tasks – rowing or otherwise. But some few were off duty, resting up for their next turn at the oars.
A small knot of them had gathered near the bow, and were crouched over something on the deck. Shin ambled towards them, fanning himself, his free hand tucked behind his back. When he heard the telltale rattle of dice in a cup, he smiled. The smile widened when he heard the curses of the crew, and the harsh tones of his manservant.
Kitano was all rough edges and shifty looks. In a previous life, he’d been a sailor and a gambler and had tried to kill Shin once. Shin had shown mercy, disappointing Kasami no end. Despite her misgivings, Kitano had proven himself useful – if somewhat incorrigible.
Shin waited for them to notice him, but they were too wrapped up in their game. A game that did not seem to be going well. Hands rested on the hilts of knives, and faces were set in expressions of anger. Hoping to head off any violence before it started, Shin cleared his throat. He was forced to do so a second time before he caught their attention.
Kitano looked up, his expression neutral. Shin took in the guilty looks of the sailors and the small pile of coins by his manservant’s feet, and said, “I trust all is in order?”
“Yes, my lord,” Kitano said. He scratched his chin with a wooden finger. He wore a half-glove of silk and leather straps over his hand, holding the prosthetic finger in place. An affectation, but one Shin was willing to tolerate in return for the services Kitano provided. “Just a few friendly wagers is all.”
“Very good. Sadly, I must pull you away from your entertainments. I have need of your services. Collect your winnings and let us be off.”
“As you say, my lord,” Kitano said, scooping up his take and hastily hiding it away about his person. He trotted after Shin as the latter headed back for the upper deck.
“How much did you win?” Shin asked, idly.
“Twen
ty koku, my lord.”
“A bushi’s ransom.” Shin held out his hand. “I’ll take my percentage now, I think.”
“Percentage?” Kitano asked.
Shin clucked his tongue in a chiding fashion. “I am your master, Kitano. As such, I am entitled to a percentage of your winnings. It’s a very old tradition – think of it as a sign of gratitude from a loyal servant to his master.”
“It’s not a tradition I’ve ever heard of,” Kitano muttered, handing over the money. “Why did you need me, my lord?”
“Ask Kasami if you don’t believe me. And I didn’t. I just wanted to keep Lun’s crew from feeding you to the river kami.”
Kitano fell silent. Shin smiled benignly. He caught sight of the vessel’s captain watching them, and gave Kitano a swat with his fan. “Go on. Stay out of trouble until I call for you.” He turned to greet Captain Lun as Kitano hurried away. “Ah, captain.”
Lun dressed like a common sailor, despite her rank – bare feet, bare arms and her hair cropped short. Her most arresting feature was a missing eye, and the scars that marked her cheek like cracks in porcelain. A short, heavy blade with a sharkskin-wrapped hilt hung low on her hip, a streamer of blue silk knotted about the ring pommel.
She grunted a greeting at him. “My lord,” she said. “Still feeding that street cur, then?” She indicated Kitano’s retreating form with a jerk of her chin.
“Kitano has his uses. And he is in my debt.”
“As am I,” Lun said.
“No. You are in my employ – a different thing entirely. You owe me nothing save an honest day’s work, captain.” Shin looked at her. “Thus far, you have not disappointed me. Speaking of which, are we still on schedule?”
Lun grunted. “If the weather is good, and the kami kind.”
Shin smiled. “And how are things otherwise, captain?”
Lun squinted at him with her good eye. “Business has been good.”
“So I hear. Master Ito has nothing but good things to say about you.”
Lun gave a sharp smile. “He’s a sneaky one.”
“He would consider that a compliment, I think.” Shin looked her up and down. “All recovered from your injuries, then?”
“Save the parts that don’t grow back.” She thrust a finger beneath her patch and scratched the socket. Shin winced and averted his gaze. That particular habit of hers always made him a bit queasy. From her smile, he suspected she knew that.
She’d been a soldier once, he knew. A marine aboard a Crane vessel, to judge by the faded tattoo on the inside of her wrist. He did not know for certain how she’d come to her current profession, nor did he think it polite to inquire. What he did know was that she had little liking for bushi – of any clan. Given what he’d seen of the day-to-day behavior of most of his peers, he could not fault her for that.
“Can’t take you all the way, you know,” she continued. “Boats and mountains don’t mix. You want to climb a mountain, you can do it yourself.”
“Of course.” The tributary would take them close to the foothills where the city of Hisatu-Kesu began. There were a number of small fishing villages dotting the river’s length. Most of them served as small merchant ports, for the loading and unloading of goods. “How long until we arrive at our port of call?”
“Tomorrow, maybe the day after, then we’ll be at Two Step Village.” It was the largest of the villages and supposedly quite a disreputable little hamlet. Konomi had assured him that the local Iuchi magistrate would be waiting to meet them there, and would escort them the rest of the way to the city.
“Good. It’s been a lovely trip, but I am looking forward to a change of scenery.”
•••
Kasami kept one eye on her sword and one on Shin. He laughed at something Lun said – a joke, maybe, though Kasami had never known the former pirate to demonstrate anything resembling a sense of humor.
She tried to distract herself by watching the river. In a way, it reminded her of her childhood in the Uebe marshes. She’d grown up around boats – flatboats, mostly. As a girl, she’d watched the fishermen at their work, and learned the art of hunting marsh-hens. It had been a simple time and good, though it hadn’t lasted long.
Her training had begun early, like that of every Hiramori. Up at the Hour of the Tiger, down with the Hour of the Boar. Mundane tasks had filled her mornings – servants’ tasks. Humble work, intended to instill humility and discipline.
She still remembered scrubbing the barracks until the wood glowed and her skin cracked. Then, hands still raw, she would start her lessons – the ones she liked best. She’d felt so alive then, with a blade in her hand. She’d dreamed of what it would be like to wield it in truth, in the name of the Crane and the Daidoji.
The reality of it had come as something of a shock to her. There was no way to teach someone how a sword felt, striking living flesh. No way to describe the tug of a dying man’s gaze and the sound of his last exhalation. And no way to explain how, all too soon, such things ceased to have any effect on one whatsoever.
Kitano shuffled past, looking smug, interrupting her train of thought. She was tempted to pitch him over the rail on general principle, but refrained. She would only have to fish him out again. Shin was too lenient with the gambler, probably because he found him amusing. Shin was always on the lookout for things that amused him, be it books or people.
Once, she’d feared amusements were his only interest. She knew better now, though there were days where the old doubts came back and she once again found herself wondering whether he was truly a wastrel after all. That he’d bought a theater had been a bit startling, but at least it was a business of sorts. If nothing else, it would keep him occupied.
She held up her sword, watching the sun glint along its edge. It was a good blade and had served her well. She caught a flash of motion in the sword’s polished length. “Stop lurking, Kitano, or I will take the rest of your fingers.”
“You look unhappy, my lady,” Kitano said, appropriating Shin’s stool. He scratched his unshaven chin with his wooden finger and smiled obsequiously. Kasami didn’t acknowledge him. Kitano had been trying to slither into her good graces for months. She knew she frightened him, and felt an unworthy satisfaction at the thought.
Though she didn’t trust him, she had to admit that he had fallen easily enough into the role of servant. A special sort of servant – one with a particular set of duties – but a servant nonetheless. Then, some people were born to serve.
“I am neither happy nor unhappy,” she said, finally. “I exist in a state of harmony – something you would know nothing about, gambler.”
“You’d be surprised,” Kitano said. Kasami glanced at him and his smile wilted. “My lady,” he added, quickly. Kasami grunted and ceased her efforts to further sharpen an already sharp sword.
“You want to say something. Say it, and go elsewhere.”
Kitano swallowed. “Northern Owari,” he said, hesitantly.
“We are nowhere near Ryoko Owari.”
Kitano shook his head. “Not Ryoko Owari – Northern Owari. The slums of Hisatu-Kesu. Dangerous sort of place.”
“Yes. And so?”
“Lots of… temptation.”
Kasami’s eyes narrowed. “Speak plainly or stop talking.”
Kitano glanced in Shin’s direction. He cleared his throat. “A few days ago, he asked me to find him a game. You know the sort he likes.”
Kasami stiffened. “I was not aware of this.”
“He told me not to say anything.”
“Then why are you telling me now?”
Kitano looked at his hands. “I don’t… He’s better than most, as masters go.” He clenched his fists, and she read the sudden tension in his broad shoulders. “But if he gets himself killed…”
“You should have more confidence in him than that,” sh
e said, but she knew what he was feeling. “After all, he handled you, didn’t he?”
Kitano shot her a glare before he remembered himself. He glanced at his hand, and then out over the water. “He’s bored. And bored noblemen are dangerous noblemen. Both to themselves and others.”
Kasami settled back on her stool. “I am aware.” She sighed. “Did you?”
“What – find him a game back before we left?” Kitano looked at her. “Of course! But he didn’t go. Said he was too busy planning for this trip.”
“That’s something, at least.” She paused. “How often has this occurred?”
Kitano shrugged. “A few times. He never goes, but… he wants to, I think. And Northern Owari is a pesthole – games, geishas, the lot.” He frowned. “I think that’s why he brought me.”
“You’ve been there before?”
Kitano hesitated. “Once or twice. Never for very long.” He scratched his chin again, an unconscious indication of his nervousness. “It’s a dangerous place.”
“So is the city.”
Kitano tapped his prosthetic finger against his knee. “Not like Northern Owari. There’s a reason they call it that – it’s… rough. Nasty. They’re a different breed in the mountains. Not reasonable, like river folk.”
Kasami snorted. “Reasonable.”
Kitano shrugged. “Practical, let’s say.”
“Cowards, you mean.”
“Unwilling to provoke their betters,” Kitano said. “But up there? They’ll leave you for the crows, noble or common. They don’t care.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
“You should, my lady, for both our sakes and his.”
Kasami jerked her head. “Go away.”
Kitano rose hurriedly and departed, leaving her alone with her thoughts. In a way, it was heartening to think that he feared for Shin’s safety. A loyal cur was still a cur, however, and still likely to bite the hand that fed it.
But, despite her distrust, she could not dismiss his concerns. Not when they so closely mirrored her own – that this outing was nothing more than an excuse for Shin to indulge himself somewhere where his proclivities were not the stuff of gossip.
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