Shin took her elbow in a gentle grip and led her. She sat, and bowed low over her shamisen, head almost touching the floor. “Thank you, my lord.”
Shin gave a shallow bow in return, though he knew she could not see it. “I look forward to your performance.”
He left her to ready her instrument and joined Kasami on the other side of the room. “Did you notice that?” he asked, softly. If the woman could hear them, she gave no sign. Kasami looked at him, and then at the musician.
“Notice what?”
“I believe she is carrying a shikomi-zue – a sword cane.”
“A blind woman with a sword?” Kasami muttered, peering more closely at the other woman. “That doesn’t seem practical.”
“Depends on the wielder, I should think.”
“She is not a noble. It is illegal for her to carry a fighting blade.”
“By all means, arrest her.” Shin gestured. “It would be most entertaining, I feel.” He met Kasami’s glare with a grin. “No?”
“We are not here for that, or have you forgotten?”
“No, but for a moment I thought you had.” He motioned dismissively. “It is likely for protection. Blind assassins are the stuff of pillow books, after all.”
Kasami blinked, and Shin realized that she hadn’t even considered the possibility. He shook his head. “I will keep one eye on her, if it makes you feel better.” He gestured. “Go on, join Nozomi. Our guests will be here soon. I want you at the door when they get here.” He paused. “Scowl a bit, if you would. We don’t want them to think we’re not taking this seriously, do we?”
She snorted. “Where would they get an idea like that, I wonder?”
Shin didn’t watch her go. Instead, he found his eyes drawn back to the musician. For a moment, from the way she tilted her head, it had almost seemed as if she’d been listening to them. But surely not. He dismissed the idea and went to roust Batu from his lair. It was only right that the host be on hand to meet his guests.
When he got to the study, one of Batu’s men was in the process of leaving, a chastened look on his face. Shin got the feeling he’d missed another of Batu’s storms. Batu followed the man a moment later. “Something wrong?” Shin inquired.
“They are not coming,” Batu said, grumpily.
“To whom are you referring?”
“The Zeshi.”
Shin paused. “That is unexpected. Did they give a reason?”
“No. Regrets, but no reason.” Batu rubbed his face. “I received word only a few moments ago. I sent my men to remind both families of their obligation to attend.”
“But the Shiko are still attending?”
“As far as I know.” Batu grunted and shook his head like a fly-stung horse. “Idiot.”
“Me?”
“No – wait, yes. But not in this instance. The idiot I am referring to is Lord Shijan.”
Shin hesitated, momentarily at a loss. “Lord? What of Hisato?”
Batu looked uncomfortable. “Lord Hisato… disappeared some time ago.”
Shin blinked. “Disappeared? What do you mean, exactly?”
“I mean disappeared. We searched – obviously we searched – but could find no sign of him. He was heading to Shiro Iuchi, on business. He never arrived.”
“Brigands?”
“Possibly.” Batu shook his head again. “There was some talk that it might have been something more, but it was just that. Without a body or witnesses, there is no way to tell what might have happened to him.”
“And this Shijan is his replacement?”
“A nephew. The oldest of the next generation. He took over, took Lady Aimi and her younger brother Reiji under his care.”
“You do not care for him.”
“He is a twit.” Batu looked him up and down. “Reminds me a bit of you, actually.”
Shin sniffed. “There’s no call for insults this early in the day.” He gestured airily. “Well, I shall just have to tender my regards in person later.”
“I’m sure he will love that.”
The Shiko arrived with much pomp and circumstance. On horseback, trailed by a curtained norimono, borne on the shoulders of a quartet of burly servants. Their escort was peeled away in stages as they entered, until finally only the invitees entered the receiving room. There were fewer of them than expected.
Sitting beside Batu, Shin studied them as they were shown into the room. The current head of the Hisatu-Kesu branch of the family was Shiko Mitsue, a thickset man whose wasted legs required that he be carried into the room by a pair of servants.
Raising his fan before his face, Shin murmured, “Illness?”
“Accident,” Batu grunted. “Or so they say.” He cleared his throat. “Mitsue, it is good of you to come. I am pleased to see you in good health.”
Mitsue gave a jolly laugh as his servant arranged him on his cushion. “And I you, Lord Batu. Your invitation was most gracious – most gracious indeed.” His wife joined him. Lady Nishi was a tall woman, angular and thin. Her face was lined, but from grief not age. She greeted them politely, but without her husband’s enthusiasm.
The other two members of their party were their remaining son, Koji, and his wife, Himari. Koji resembled both his parents, and his wife was a round woman with a pleasant smile. Koji was nervous. Himari was serene, but alert. They bowed low, heads nearly touching the floor. “Yes, thank you for inviting us, my lord,” Koji said, echoing his father. “It is a most welcome diversion.” He glanced at Shin. “It is not often that we of the Shiko dine with a Crane, especially one of such high rank.”
Shin accepted the compliment with a shallow nod. “I look forward to making your acquaintance, my lord. I have heard much about your family.”
“Lies and calumnies, my lord,” Mitsue said, with a wide smile. “I assure you, we are a civilized folk. Unlike some I could mention.” He made a show of looking around. “Have the Zeshi not arrived yet?”
“They will not be attending,” Batu said.
“A shame,” Shin interjected. “But we shall struggle on in their absence, I am sure.” Mitsue laughed, and a palpable easing of tension followed. As the food was brought out, Shin tried to keep the conversation light. The blind musician had begun to play softly in the background, and he found his gaze drawn to her more than once. It was curious that Batu had not mentioned hiring her. He wondered what her name was.
Twitching the thought aside, he turned his attentions to their guests. He prodded Mitsue with a question about leatherworking. “I understand that your family is one of the preeminent suppliers of equestrian armor, both to the Unicorn, and, to a lesser extent, the other clans.”
Mitsue nodded. “That is our privilege, yes.”
“The waters of Hisatu-Kesu aid you in the production of said armor, by providing easy access to hot water. That is why the Shiko established a holding here, even as the Zeshi did before them. Am I correct?”
Another nod. “Yes, my lord.”
Shin arranged his expression into one of pleasant vapidity. “How vital then is Hisatu-Kesu to the Shiko’s financial welfare? You have other holdings, surely. Why is this one important enough to go to war over?”
Mitsue hesitated. Then, “I was told you had some connection to the Daidoji Trading Council. I should have expected such a question.”
Shin smiled airily. “I confess, among my vices is an abiding interest in the economics of trade.” He took a sip of his tea. “It seems to me that war is largely unprofitable, save in the short term. Even when you are in the business of selling the implements of such.”
Mitsue studied him, and Shin could almost hear what the other man was thinking. Finally, Mitsue said, “Our finances have… increased, of late. But with such good fortune comes new obstacles. Demand exceeds production. If we fail to supply our patrons, they will turn to others to do so
, and our coffers will dwindle. So we must continue to produce our goods, and faster than before.”
“Having access to a ready supply of hot water eases the production time, I believe?” Shin said. “I am not unfamiliar with the process, but I do not pretend to be an expert.”
“You know more than some,” Mitsue said, with a crooked smile. “Most bushi have no interest in where the tools of their trade come from.”
“Most bushi have other concerns.” Shin set his cup down. “So if you were to be driven from Hisatu-Kesu, your finances would suffer significantly.”
Mitsue nodded. “Our production capacity would be crippled – at least for a time.” He hesitated, and added, “It would not surprise me if the Zeshi are in the same position.”
Shin considered this. “It is strange to me that you would be rivals. You provide different things, after all.”
Koji interrupted. “But those things require the same resources, my lord. We need leather and thread, dyes and iron. We use the same process, and we take pride in our craft.”
Mitsue glanced at his son. “And in truth, it is not just about that. The Zeshi have long had pretensions to a status they cannot claim. They see our sudden wealth as a threat to that status.” He shrugged. “It does not surprise me that they wish us gone. Hisatu-Kesu has been their uncontested fiefdom for a generation. It must rankle that the Ide and the Iuchi decided to grant us access without so much as a by your leave.”
“You give them too much credit, Father,” Koji said. He looked at Shin. “They – the Zeshi – questioned our right to the hot springs from the first. Access to such waters simplifies the leather-making process, as my father said. They do not own the waters, whatever they like to imagine. We protested and they… reacted poorly.”
“By poorly, you mean with violence?” he asked.
“Not at first. Threats, mostly. Some sabotage, though nothing ever proven.”
Mitsue laughed. “Nothing proven – ha!” He looked at Shin. “They tried to drive us out by choking off our access to Two Step and the river trade. They hired thugs from Northern Owari to attack our caravans. They even bought up all the leather from the merchants in the city.”
“And you fought back.”
Koji nodded. “Obviously.” He glanced at his father. “Not with steel – not at first. We traded like for like.”
“We fought like heimin – with insults and money.” A look of disgust passed across Mitsue’s face. “We should have challenged them from the beginning. Settled it in blood, and for good. Instead…” He trailed off.
“Instead, you tried to keep the peace,” Shin said, smoothly. “To fight without shedding blood. There is nothing foolish about using the weapons best suited to the battle. I am curious, what finally brought you to the negotiating table?”
“Money,” Koji said. “What else?”
“By which you mean the loss of income both families undoubtedly suffered?”
“Yes. We were informed that to continue the conflict would unnecessarily weaken our standing with the Ide. The Zeshi were undoubtedly given a similar ultimatum. A truce was declared and negotiations began thereafter.”
“And how did they go?”
“Fine. Surprisingly well, in fact. Neither my father nor Zeshi Hisato were inclined to continue the conflict – nor had they been in favor of it to begin with. Hotheads like Ikki were the ones causing most of the trouble.”
“Ikki?”
Koji grimaced. “My… cousin. One of them, I should say.”
“Troublemakers, the lot of them,” Himari said. “It is they who–”
“Quiet,” Koji said. He glanced at his mother, and Shin followed his gaze. Nishi had remained studiously silent through most of the meal. But her face was pale, her expression strained. As if she wanted to speak, but feared what she might say.
Shin cleared his throat. “But you were satisfied that the matter was settled?”
“We were,” Koji said.
“Until they killed my son,” Nishi said. She rose suddenly, bowed, and retreated from the room. The others watched her go with awkward concern. Mitsue made to summon his servants, but Shin intervened.
“Please forgive me. It was my curiosity which drove her out, and it is my responsibility to bring her back.” He was out the door and on her trail a moment later.
Chapter Ten
Concerns
Shin caught up with Lady Nishi as she made for the outside.
Servants fluttered about her like birds, and he caught sight of Kitano lurking attentively nearby. “Lady Nishi, please – allow me to tender my most sincere apologies. Curiosity is among my vices, and I am ashamed to admit that I allow it free rein at the most inappropriate times.”
She stopped at the door. In the moments since her abrupt departure she had managed to compose herself. She took a breath and dismissed her servants with a sharp gesture. She turned and gave him a lingering look. “I am told you are a friend of Iuchi Konomi – Lady Konomi is well regarded among many I deem friends.”
“I have some regard for her myself, come to that.”
“And it is she who asked you to come here?”
Shin looked at her. “You know much.”
“I like to keep informed.” She took a steadying breath. “May we speak in private?”
“Of course. This way.” He led her to Batu’s study, and she sighed gratefully as he slid the door shut. She looked around.
“He does not act as one would expect,” she said, finally.
“Batu, you mean? No. He has ever defied expectation.”
“You know him, then?”
“We were… are friends. Or so I hope.”
“It is good to have friends. You seem to have many.”
“As you said, it is good to have them. Better still to have many of them.”
She nodded absently. “I know your reputation, my lord. More, I made it a point to learn all I could of you – of your… methods.”
“And?”
“My son is dead. His killer has been caught. There is no mystery here. You have a confession and testimony. What more is needed?”
“That is what I am trying to determine.”
“To suggest that anything you learn might outweigh the testimony given is inconceivable. It is against the very nature of things.”
Shin nodded. “You might be surprised to learn that you are not the first to make such an argument. Yet as well-intentioned as that argument might be, I find it sadly flawed.” She raised an eyebrow. Shin pressed on. “Some maintain that truth is determined by the majority. But I believe truth to be like the elephant in the folktale – its form is impossible to determine from one perspective, or even two or three. One must see the whole beast in order to truly describe it.”
She laughed softly. “Madness.”
“No. Merely a different opinion. There are many who make that mistake, however, and I do not hold it against you.” He paused. “You wished to tell me something, I think.”
She looked away. “Is that so?”
“Your display at the table. Our conversation here. Hardly an oblique approach.”
She stifled a laugh. “They were right about you.” She looked at him. “I am not certain that this is a good use of your time, my lord. Surely you have more important tasks?”
“A woman’s life is at stake. What could be more important than that?”
Nishi frowned. “I’d heard the Crane were pompous, but I thought them sensible as well. Many things are more important than a single life. The lives of many, for instance.”
Shin ducked his head in acknowledgment of her point. “Perhaps. But I am here for the one – the many are for others to concern themselves with.”
“Are we so unimportant, then, that you can dismiss us so easily?”
“No. You have importance, just no
t to me.”
“The Iuchi overstep themselves – and you with them. That is why I have written to the Ide, seeking a representative of our own.”
Again, Shin ducked his head. Her words were ones of anger, but her tone was sad. “If we overstep, it is in a good cause.”
“What cause might that be?”
“The truth, my lady.” Shin paused. “Everyone must serve a master – mine is truth.”
She fell silent. Then, “A harsher master than some.”
“Yes. But fair. What more can one who serves ask?” Shin fixed her with a steady eye. “Tell me about your son.”
Startled, she frowned. “What?”
“Your son. Tell me about him.”
She was silent for some time, her gaze vague. “Gen was a fool,” she said, eventually. She was tense – almost quivering. Shin wondered whether it was due to anger or grief. Perhaps both. “He was my son, but he was a fool.”
“You are not surprised by his death, then,” Shin said.
Nishi smiled sadly. “No. The question of it was when, not if.”
“But you wish his killer punished.” Grief, he decided. Nishi was not angry. She was sad. Broken-hearted. He felt a flush of sympathy for her.
“Yes. That is only justice, after all.”
“Possibly.”
Nishi peered at him. “You think otherwise?”
“I think Gen was provoked into his rash action, though I don’t yet know the reason for it – or who might have done it. Why confront his intended in such a manner, and why draw steel on her bodyguard?”
Nishi shook her head. “I have asked myself the same questions. But I do not have an answer for either of us, I fear.”
Shin heard the lie in her voice, but said nothing of it. He was not surprised. He decided to try a different tack. “Were you in favor of the marriage?”
Nishi looked away. “No.”
“Why?”
She did not reply for long moments. Then, “The girl was… unsuitable.”
“Unsuitable how?”
“It is not my place to speak of it.”
“Whose place is it? You were the mother of the groom. Who better to know the reason for such an assertion?”
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