Death's Kiss

by Josh Reynolds

Emiko followed the curve of the chamber. Conversation resumed, though it was subdued, and she listened to the swirl of voices. She could pick one from the other with ease, for they were as familiar to her as her own, and as she listened she found that she could predict the flow of the conversation. Then, perhaps that was because it was not simply the voices that were familiar – but the argument in which they circled one another like curs in the street.

  To act – or not. A familiar dispute. It had been the same since the late, unlamented Shiko Gen had slid off the yojimbo’s blade and into the dust where he so deservedly belonged. The others had chewed over that moment and its repercussions again and again. It was beginning to annoy her.

  For some time now, their efforts had been directed towards exacerbating the issues between the Zeshi and the Shiko. Little nudges towards an inevitable clash. Outright war was too much to hope for, but an increase in tensions between the families and their patrons would be of invaluable use to the Iron Sect as a whole.

  Unfortunately, the negotiations between the families had stalled – not collapsed. As a result, everything in the city had come to a halt. Some wished to take advantage of the lull to further the economic interests of the Iron Sect – money was always in short supply, and the state of the sect’s war chest was of constant concern. Others wished to seize the moment and launch attacks on previously chosen targets, using the conflict between the families as cover. The deaths of these certain key individuals would allow the sect to insert their own people into positions of influence within the city.

  A third faction wished to wait. To observe and ready themselves to seize whatever opportunities arose as the situation came to a head. There were other opinions, of course. Some wanted to assassinate the head of the Shiko. Others wanted to sabotage the tanneries. One lone voice demanded that they kill the magistrate, Batu.

  So, as with every other meeting of late, things had devolved into an argument. She found her mat in its accustomed corner and sat. She cradled her shamisen and began to tune it. A bit of music might be in order, to pass the time until they had run out of words.

  She began to play, softly at first and then more loudly. One by one, the voices fell silent as her tune filled the room and drowned them out. When she felt their attentions at last shift towards her, she allowed herself a smile. She stilled her strings and said, “We cannot undo what has been done, no matter how often we discuss it.”

  “That is not what we are doing,” a rough voice said. Eiji. A blacksmith by trade, and a well-respected one. He was coarse and crude, but he took some care not to insult others, especially those lower in status. “And anyway, unless you have something to contribute…”

  She plucked at the strings of her instrument. “Would you listen, if I did? Or would you ignore my words, as you did when I warned you of the foolishness of attempting to bridle this particular horse?”

  “Impertinence,” Fumihiro said. His voice was prim and polished. She sniffed the air, detecting the faint whiff of rosewater, and turned her face towards the merchant. She did not care for Fumihiro. Eiji could be unpleasant, but his offenses were largely unintentional – the result of ignorance. Fumihiro spoke with venom out of preference.

  “The word impertinence implies that we are not equals, merchant. I remind you that here, in this room, we most assuredly are.” She stilled her strings. “Unless you disagree?”

  A sudden hush fell over the assemblage. She heard Fumihiro swallow a retort, and one of the others murmur something – a warning, perhaps. She allowed her smile to widen. “We are not them, my friends,” she said, soothingly. “We do not divide ourselves into heimin and hinin, into seen and unseen. We are all children of the world. To forget that is to betray everything we have worked towards.”

  Carefully, she set her shamisen down and placed her hands upon her knees. “Talking in circles serves only to make one dizzy. I cannot see your faces, but I can read your voices. You are worried.”

  “And should we be otherwise? Have you something to report that might alleviate our concerns?” Emiko recognized the soft, musical tones as belonging to Ichika, the geisha. She worked in the Jade Hare, a bawdy house in Northern Owari. Many patrons of note passed through that house, and Ichika knew them all by name – something the sect found highly useful. “You attended the gathering at Lord Batu’s house earlier today. What did you learn?”

  “It was much as we expected,” Emiko said. “Much hot air, and little direction.” She shifted her weight. The others waited for her to arrange herself, some with more patience than others. “The Crane intends to investigate the circumstances of Shiko Gen’s death, over the protests of both families.”

  “Why?” Eiji again. Several voices echoed his question.

  “Because it amuses him to do so, I imagine.” She paused. “He spoke to me.”

  “You? Why?” Fumihiro, sounding annoyed.

  “A servant was rude to me. He apologized.”

  Fumihiro made a sound of disbelief. “The Crane apologized – to you?”

  “In his own way.”

  “Preposterous.” Fumihiro laughed, and not for the first time, Emiko wished she had reason to kill him. He made much money, and had familial connections that were useful to the sect, which were the only reasons he was tolerated.

  “Possibly not,” a new voice intruded. “The Crane. What was his name?”

  Startled by the question, Emiko turned. “Daidoji Shin.”

  A short, sharp bark of laughter followed her words. She knew the laugh. Yuzu. Another merchant, and a more prosperous one than Fumihiro – a fact of no small irritation to the latter. The two men hated each other, she knew, and often clashed in meetings. They were often the poles around which many of the others clustered. It was the nature of some to be ever in want of leadership.

  Emiko detested them both, though Fumihiro more than Yuzu. Yuzu was a heimin, and his rapacious nature was a result of the struggles he had endured to get where he was. Fumihiro, in contrast, belonged to a minor noble family – smaller than the Zeshi or the Shiko, but with wealth and influence enough to provide for even one of its less capable sons.

  “You know him?” Fumihiro demanded.

  “I know of him. How amusing.” The way Yuzu said it, it sounded anything but.

  “Explain, please,” Eiji said. He sounded worried. He often sounded worried these days. She wondered, idly, if she might soon have to pay him a visit – to settle his worries, and keep his fear from infecting the others. She hoped not. Despite his crudity, she bore him no malice, and he was a true believer in the great work.

  “Some time ago, I had reason to visit the City of the Rich Frog. Never mind why. While there, I contacted an individual who… shared our hopes for the future, you might say.”

  “A member of another sect?” Ichika asked. She sounded intrigued. The geisha had ever been curious about such things; more so than Emiko.

  “Perhaps,” Yuzu said, evasively. “A fellow traveler, at least. They were all a-flutter about the activities of a certain Crane nobleman. It seemed he had inadvertently disrupted a scheme of theirs, though what that scheme was they did not say. I made it a point to learn the fellow’s name. It was he – Daidoji Shin.”

  “What does this mean?” Eiji asked. Emiko heard the creak of his mat, and knew he was leaning forwards. “What does it matter?”

  “It means things will not be so simple as we imagined. This Crane has experience in rooting out secrets. He may well discover our friend among the Zeshi. And if he does, we must be prepared for the worst.”

  “Perhaps we should all leave the city. Just for the duration.” This from Fumihiro.

  “A good way to draw attention from anyone who might be looking,” Yuzu said. “No, the best thing to do is nothing. We wait, we watch, we let things play out as they will.”

  Fumihiro laughed. “And then what, Yuzu? What if this clever Crane uncove
rs some link to us? Would you have us just endure discovery?”

  “What can he discover? We do not exist.”

  “Except we do,” Fumihiro said. “We exist in a chain of knowledge. Too many people know about us. There are too many connections.”

  “And what would you suggest? That we kill everyone connected to us on the remote possibility that they might – I stress might – be discovered?” Yuzu snorted. “Perhaps we should start with old Natsuo, eh? After all, he’s right here, in easy reach.”

  There was a murmur at this. Natsuo was beloved, if not universally. Indeed, he was responsible for introducing many of those here to the great work. Emiko had come by a different route, but she respected the old man nonetheless.

  “I am suggesting nothing of the sort,” Fumihiro said, acerbically. “I simply believe that we should take steps to ensure we are not exposed by this business.”

  Emiko spoke up. “So long as the yojimbo insists upon being so foolishly loyal, we have little to fear. Soon enough the magistrate will have no option save to see justice – such as it is – done.”

  “And what if she does not remain loyal? What if the Crane pecks away at the matter until a crumb of truth is revealed?”

  “Let him,” Emiko said. “What will he find, but the name of the one who set Gen on the trail of his rival?”

  “What if that one gives us up?”

  “He will not. He fears us.”

  “He might fear death more.”

  “Then I will ensure otherwise.” She smiled. “As I have always done.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Matchmaker

  “She’s here,” Batu said, entering the study. Shin looked up from his perusal of the incident report. He’d read through it multiple times that morning, scanning it for any irregularity that might give him a hint as to something untoward. Unfortunately, it made for quite dull reading. Batu was not the sort for narrative embellishment.

  “How does she seem?”

  “Angry.”

  “Good.”

  “Why good?”

  “Angry people are less apt to dissemble. Remind me – who is Ikki?” Shin tapped the papers. “He gave testimony as to what occurred between Gen and Ruri. And Lord Koji mentioned him, though I expect it was a slip of the tongue. Lady Nishi spoke of him as well.”

  “A number of lesser cousins swarm about the Shiko, suckling at their influence. Ikki is one of the greediest. He and his coterie were often seen in Gen’s company. Why?”

  “I wish to speak to him.”

  “I have already spoken to him.”

  “I wish to speak to him as well.”

  Batu grunted. “If you can find him, be my guest. He and the others were supposed to be here this afternoon with the rest of the family. They never turned up.”

  “Why is that, I wonder?”

  “From what Koji let slip while you were out of the room, they refused to attend, apparently, believing your presence to be an insult to the Ide and the Shiko. Or so they claimed.”

  “Koji expressed similar sentiments.”

  “Yes, well, there is something in what they say, unfortunately.”

  “Some people are eager to see insult where none is intended. I fear Lord Koji is one of those.” Shin put the papers aside and rose. “I will need to speak to these cousins regardless. If they were witnesses, they might be able to shed some light on why Gen did what he did.”

  “As I said, if you can find them, be my guest.”

  “You know, your people might locate them more quickly than mine.”

  “My people have other duties to attend to. Our numbers are few and the area we must oversee is large. If you want those idiots found, you’ll have to do it.”

  Shin looked askance at him. “Is this what you call being helpful?”

  Batu snorted. “I found you the matchmaker, didn’t I? Be grateful.”

  “Oh, I am. I shall speak your praises to your family when this affair is brought to its happy conclusion.” Shin pressed a hand to his heart. “I wager you might even get a promotion out of it.”

  Batu grunted. “She’s in the receiving room. Do you want me to…?”

  “No. But – find Kasami if you would and send her to wait for me. I will have need of her afterwards.” With that, Shin trotted to the receiving room, arranging his thoughts for the conversation to come. It had been some time since he had last spoken to a matchmaker, and that had been under vastly different circumstances.

  Batu had been involved then, as well – to his detriment. He felt a flicker of regret as the memory of that moment – a moment from a simpler time, flowered unbidden. Kaiya had been unsuitable. Batu deserved better.

  He had done what was needed, for Batu’s sake. Batu, of course, had not seen it that way. He hoped this time might turn out better for both of them, even as he wondered whether Batu was hoping the same. He pushed the thought aside as he came to the door.

  He paused there for a few moments before entering. It was always polite to let guests compose themselves before one entered a room. The matchmaker knelt on the provided cushions, waiting patiently. Shin settled himself on the flat dais before her. “You are Suio Umeko,” he began. “You were employed by the Shiko as a matchmaker, after some negotiation with the Zeshi.”

  “Is that a question?” the old woman asked. There was a sharpness to her voice that Shin found admirable. Though he was of higher rank, she saw no reason to give him anything but the most basic of courtesies. A calculated insult – or, rather, a warning that she was protected by the authority of the Ide daimyo. It spoke to the influence of the Shiko that Ide Tadaji had sent his personal matchmaker to oversee things.

  “A statement,” Shin said. “You are quite famous, in certain circles. The Suio are well known for their recordkeeping, and the matchmakers they produce are highly sought after, even outside the Unicorn clan.”

  “You flatter me, my lord,” she said, in mild tones. He studied her carefully. She was older than him, of an age with his grandfather, perhaps. She had never been pretty, he thought, but she was striking in a particular way.

  “Merely in service to my own ends,” he said, with equal mildness. She paused, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of his admission. Then, she smiled.

  “Good. I would hate to think you meant anything you said.”

  The tea arrived then. Kitano brought the tray with a blessed lack of his usual clumsiness. He bowed low and retreated without speaking.

  “Sometimes I do. A rare occasion, to be sure, but it does occur.” Shin passed her a cup of tea. She accepted it politely and bowed her head.

  “You wish to ask me something, I believe.”

  “A few things, actually. If you are willing.”

  “I am always willing to help in such matters as these.”

  “You speak as if this is a familiar occurrence,” Shin said, taking a sip of his tea.

  “Arranged marriages can be perilous things, especially for the inexperienced.” She sipped her tea and made a pleased sound. “Delightful.”

  “I am pleased you like it. It is my own blend.”

  “Then you are more skilled than you appear, my lord.”

  Shin gave her a sharp look. Her smile was bland, her gaze open and unassuming. “Thank you,” he said. “Is this the first murder that has occurred as a result of one of your matches?”

  It was her turn to frown. “This was not my doing.”

  “It was unintentional, I am certain, yet… the evidence is before us.”

  She fell silent. But only for a moment. “The match was suitable.”

  “But not perfect.”

  “They rarely are, especially in situations such as this. The tensions between the two families were – are – volatile. There was much riding on both of them. They knew this. Whatever happened, it was not because
of the marriage.”

  “Can you say that with certainty?”

  “I would stake my reputation on it.”

  “That is good to hear, because in a very real sense, you are.”

  Umeko looked at him. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

  “Surely you understand – whatever the truth might be, what matters is what people will say. And what they will say is that you arranged a marriage in which one party attacked the other and died as a result.”

  Umeko set her cup down. “And I am sure that, as a Crane, you would be happy to promulgate such rancid gossip.”

  Shin smiled. “I would feel it my duty to warn others of such a possibility. But, if you were to speak freely with me, I would feel myself… bound to ensure the sanctity of your reputation, let us say.”

  Umeko made a disgusted noise. “I am too old to bandy words with a puffed-up court popinjay. Tell me what you wish to know, and I will tell you what I can.”

  “I want to know why Gen attacked his betrothed in the street.”

  Umeko stared into her teacup. “Why would I know that?”

  “I do not believe that you do. But you have formed an opinion of our young lovers, and I would know what you think.”

  “Young is a good word for them,” she said, finally. “Not in years, so much, but in thought. You understand what I mean?”

  “I do. Naïve, then?”

  “Yes. A particular sort of ingenuousness common to the children of vassal families. High enough that the world is at their feet, but low enough that their responsibilities are small. The Shiko and the Zeshi rule here like Khans, though it is only their fiefdom by grace of the Unicorn. Some of them have not yet learned to be suitably humble in the face of this gift.” She frowned. “Gen was one such.”

  “Arrogant?”

  “A brat. Spoiled and coddled. A swaggering oaf.”

  “You did not care for him?”

  She smiled thinly. “I did not. Had the families not been so insistent, had other factors not been involved, I would not have made the match.”

  “You feared for the girl?”