Death's Kiss

by Josh Reynolds

  Zeshi Shijan reclined on a bench near the trees, running a bow across the strings of an igil. Shin recognized the instrument, though he’d never seen one up close. It was one of several curious musical instruments that the Unicorn had brought with them on their return to the empire. And though he admittedly knew little about the igil, he knew enough to know that Shijan was not at all skilled in its use.

  “A fine tune,” Shin said, courteously. He gestured for Kasami to wait near the door, on a mat provided by the servants.

  Shijan smiled. “It is, isn’t it? I confess, I am something of a composer in my spare time. I fancy I am the finest player this side of Iuchi Pass.”

  “How modest of you.” Shin studied the other man. At first glance, Shijan was every inch the proper bushi, if a touch out of shape. He was handsome, and wore fine clothes. But he wore them without skill, and his good looks were thus wasted.

  Shijan snorted. “False modesty is the province of the Crane. If a man is skilled, let him show it, lest the Fortunes reclaim their gifts.”

  Shin recognized the quote, though he suspected that Shijan had assumed he wouldn’t. “A line from The Ujik Debtor, I believe. A treatise by Moto Bolormaa. A fine work, though somewhat limited in its appeal.”

  Shijan stared at him for a moment, and then turned his attentions back to his instrument. “You are well read, my lord.”

  “My responsibilities are scant, so I have little to do but read.” Shin wondered if the invitation to sit would be forthcoming. “I find the work of Bolormaa to be invigorating, I must admit. There’s a sort of casual crudity to it which neatly cuts to the heart of things.”

  “You mean it is simple.”

  “Simplicity is an art, like any other.” Shin let his gaze roam about the garden. “Is it true that the best igils are made from the wood of a mountain larch?”

  “Yes. With strings made from the hairs of a horse’s tail.” Shijan tapped the instrument with his bow. “I plucked these myself.”

  “I hope the horse was suitably compensated.”

  Shijan frowned. “Was that a joke?”

  “A poor one,” Shin said, bowing his head.

  “Forgive me, I am not used to courtly humor.”

  “Neither am I, come to it. I have not attended court in some time.”

  “But you have attended?” Shijan asked, somewhat hesitantly.

  “Once or twice.”

  “Is it… as they say?”

  “That depends on who they are and what they’ve said,” Shin replied. “It is an experience, I will say that much. By turns engaging, invigorating, and disastrous. I was honored to be invited, of course.”

  “Of course,” Shijan said. There was a note of longing in his voice that made Shin feel a flicker of sympathy for the other man. “I must apologize for not being on hand to welcome you yesterday. An unforeseen matter required my attentions.”

  “I was told you were insulted by my presence. That is why I have come – to make my own apologies.” Shin bowed, and Shijan nodded, nonplussed. He set his instrument aside and stood. He glanced at the servant who’d escorted them in.

  “Yo, have my archery equipment set up. I feel like practicing this morning.”

  The servant bowed and retreated. Shin smiled. “Ah, archery. There is such poetry in the flight of an arrow, don’t you think?”

  “Ah – yes. Yes, I suppose so.” Shijan looked at him. He hesitated, and then said, “I have heard the Daidoji are trained to the bow. Would you care to test yourself as we talk?”

  “I would be delighted, thank you,” Shin said, smiling.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Target Practice

  “I confess, I have heard something of you, my lord,” Shijan said, as the servants cleared the garden. “You are known to interfere with the course of justice – to amuse yourself at the expense of propriety.”

  Shin turned as the servants brought out a straw target and a bow and arrows. “Not solely to amuse myself, I assure you.”

  Shijan whistled, and his servants scattered, leaving the target where it was. He lifted the bow and loosed his arrow. It missed the target by a wide margin. He lowered his bow, a look of annoyance on his face.

  “A difficult shot,” Shin said, charitably.

  Shijan grunted and pulled another arrow from the quiver. He loosed his arrow, and was rewarded by a weak hit. The straw target wobbled, and a servant hurried to reposition it. “Forgive me, but may I speak plainly?”

  “I insist.”

  “Your presence is hardly conducive to our ongoing negotiations with the Shiko.”

  “Then the negotiations have not ceased?”

  “Why would they?”

  “The death of Shiko Gen, for one.”

  Shijan selected another arrow. “A tragedy, but not insurmountable. The marriage was the simplest way of join­ing the families together. There are other ways, as I’m sure you’re aware – I have already spoken to Lord Koji, and he assures me that he has his parents’ full support to continue the talks.”

  “I am told that there are some who do not approve of… well… all of it, really.”

  Shijan lowered his bow and looked at Shin. “There are always obstacles to progress.” Before he could elaborate, they were interrupted by a new arrival. A young man, clad in a garish kimono. Unshaven, hair unruly, he appeared on the opposite side of the garden and stopped dead. He stared at Shin for a moment before turning a glare on Shijan. “What is he doing here?” he demanded. “He has no right to be here!”

  Shijan set his bow down and glared at the younger man. “He requested an audience and I granted it. That is within my authority, I think.”

  “This is our house – not yours,” the youth said. His hand hovered over the knife in his sash. It was a curious, curved thing – a foreign blade, and quite old, Shin thought. “You are caretaker here, cousin. Nothing more.”

  Shijan shot to his feet, his face taut with anger. “Silence, Reiji. You embarrass us both in front of Lord Shin.”

  “What do I care for Lord Shin?” Reiji replied, giving Shin a sullen look. “What is he to me, save an uninvited guest and a nuisance?”

  “Reiji… Lord Reiji, I presume? Brother to Lady Aimi?” Shin peered at him. Reiji was painfully young, and sullen besides. Probably barely past his gempuku. While that made him an adult by the standards of Rokugan, Shin judged that he was still unseasoned.

  Reiji paused. “What of it?”

  “Nothing, save that it is fortunate you are here. For I wished to speak to you as well.”

  “I have nothing to say to you, Crane.”

  “You have said much to me already,” Shin said, pointedly.

  Reiji flushed. He looked Shin over with an insolent expression on his face. “So you’re the one they sent to clean up our mess?”

  “Be silent,” Shijan hissed. “And if you must speak, do so with respect!”

  Shin made a placatory gesture. “I am a firm believer in respect being something one earns. And it was a fair question. Yes, I am the Crane. Daidoji Shin, at your service.” He gave a shallow bow. Reiji sneered.

  “I doubt that.” He looked at Shijan. “I’m going out.”

  “You are not.”

  “Watch me, caretaker.” Reiji started past them, and Shijan’s hand shot out to catch the youth’s arm. Reiji was jerked to a halt. Shijan was obviously stronger than he looked.

  “You will address me with respect, boy,” he said, in a low voice. “After all I have done for you, and your sister, I am owed that much.”

  Reiji jerked his arm free and stepped back. He gave a mocking bow and stormed out of the garden. Shijan watched him go with a peculiar look on his face. Shin felt a flash of sympathy for him. Shijan turned.

  “I apologize, my lord. Reiji has ever been a snappish whelp – and he has only grown worse sin
ce his father’s disappearance.”

  “There is nothing to apologize for, Lord Shijan. Family is as much a burden as a blessing. I know this all too well.” He paused. “Speaking of which, your other cousin, Lady Aimi. Is she at home?”

  Shijan selected an arrow, and then glanced at Shin. “Why?”

  “I wish to speak to her, if that is permissible.”

  “And if I say it is not?”

  “If the road is blocked, one must simply find another route.”

  “Bolormaa,” Shijan said, confidently.

  “Mongke, actually. An Ide philosopher.”

  Shijan frowned. “Ah. That explains why I was not familiar with the saying. The writings of the Ide have never been to my taste.”

  “A shame.”

  “Your turn, I think,” Shijan said, handing him the bow and an arrow. Shin looked at the arrow for a moment, then thrust it back into the quiver and selected another. Shijan’s eyes narrowed, but Shin pretended not to notice.

  Shin took aim. “Katai Ruri,” he said, loosing the arrow. He was pleased to see it thunk home into the straw figure. “I believe I would have split his breastbone with that shot.”

  Shijan grunted. “A good shot.”

  Shin selected another arrow. “There is always room for improvement. What can you tell me about her?”

  Shijan hesitated. “Why?”

  “Everything turns on her action, or inaction. Therefore, who is she? Where did she come from? How did she come into the service of your family?”

  “She was hired by Aimi’s father during a period of tension between our family and the local merchants’ association. There had been some threats – all anonymous, of course.”

  “The best threats always are,” Shin said, airily. He took his time selecting a second arrow, letting Shijan talk.

  Shijan paused, and then continued. “I do not know how he knew of her, or where he found her. Only that he returned from a trip to Shiro Iuchi with the Lioness in tow.”

  “The Lioness?”

  “That is what we used to call her. The Lioness – a jest, you see.”

  “Ah, yes. How amusing. And what was your impression of her?”

  “That she was competent.” Shijan selected an arrow and fiddled with the fletching. “I was not otherwise impressed, I must admit.”

  “And now?”

  “Less impressed than before. I’m glad we never got around to formally adopting her into the family.” Shijan thrust the arrow back into the quiver. “A good yojimbo would have known better than to answer the insults of a drunken lout.”

  “He was drunk, then.”

  “He was always drunk.”

  “According to Ruri, she was merely defending herself.”

  “Then she should have done so in a non-lethal manner.”

  “Sometimes that is not possible,” Shin said.

  “And you would know this, my lord?”

  “I would,” Shin said, almost gently. Shijan looked at him, and then away.

  “Be that as it may, she killed a bushi of higher status. Therefore her punishment must be severe. That is the way of things.”

  “Death is but one punishment. There are others.”

  “The Shiko demanded death. I do not fault them for that, do you?”

  “No,” Shin said, after a moment’s hesitation. He selected his arrow. “What does Lady Aimi think of it?”

  “Heartbroken, of course.”

  Whether he was referring to Gen or Ruri, Shin could not say. “Two tragedies in such a short span of time. You said her father disappeared?” Shin asked, nocking the arrow. “When was this, if I might ask?”

  “Not long after the match between Gen and Aimi was made.”

  “Curious.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  Shin loosed his arrow. It punched home next to the first. “An idle thought, of no importance. When you say disappeared, what do you mean, exactly?”

  “I mean exactly what I said, my lord,” Shijan said. “He rode for Shiro Iuchi on business, but did not arrive.”

  “And what is the prevailing opinion?”

  “My lord?”

  “As to what might have happened to him. He had an escort, one presumes. A body of armed, mounted men – especially those led by a minor lord – do not simply vanish. There must be theories. I wish to hear them.”

  “Might I ask why?”

  “You may.” Shin selected a third arrow and nocked it.

  After a moment, Shijan made a disagreeable noise and said, “Why?”

  “Because I am curious.” Shin loosed his third arrow and was pleased when it split the first with a startling crack. Shijan gawped for a moment before quickly recovering. Shin offered him the bow.

  “You are an impressive archer, my lord,” Shijan said, gingerly taking back his bow.

  Shin bowed his head slightly, in acknowledgment of the compliment. “We Daidoji are trained as archers from our earliest years. I do not often get the chance to test my skills in that regard, so I am most thankful to you for indulging me.”

  Shijan nodded and made to select his own arrow. “I am happy to be of service.” He said it somewhat grudgingly, but Shin pretended not to notice.

  “Then perhaps you will indulge me further and satisfy my curiosity, however impolite you may find it.” Shin pulled another arrow from the quiver and made a show of examining it. “What do you think happened to your uncle?”

  “Brigands, perhaps,” Shijan said, readying his arrow. His form was sloppy, Shin noted. He was distracted, either by Shin’s presence, or something else. He loosed, and the arrow wobbled short of its mark. Biting his lip in frustration, he reached for another. “Or maybe Bakemono. There is a breed of the filthy creatures that inhabit these mountains. On occasion they will attack merchant caravans or travelers, looking for food and plunder.”

  Shin paused. He knew little of the stunted creatures, save what he’d read in certain rare treatises which described the Bakemono as ugly, corrupted things, largely feral, and dangerous only in great numbers. “I find it hard to believe that any number of Bakemono might prove troublesome for armed samurai, even if they took them unawares.”

  “These things happen,” Shijan said, loosing his second arrow. “Even the most skilled warrior loses his footing on occasion.”

  “But surely a search was conducted. Was there no sign of such an occurrence? Bakemono are not known for clearing up after themselves.”

  “Maybe they were smart.”

  Shin studied the other man. From the set of Shijan’s mouth, and the tenseness of his posture, he could tell the conversation had steered into perilous waters. He decided a change of course might be optimal. “Maybe so. As you said, it is of no import. I ask again – might I speak with your cousin?”

  Shijan’s arrow glanced off the target. He turned, frowning. “I think not.”

  Shin raised an eyebrow. “No? May I ask why?”

  “Because I do not wish you to do so. Aimi has endured enough in this time, and I do not wish her to be further troubled.”

  “Surely that should be her decision, not yours.”

  “I am the head of the family.”

  “For the moment,” Shin said, voice mild. Shijan turned, arrow nocked.

  “Regardless, I must do what is best for my family. Besides, what could she tell you that you do not already know?”

  “I will not know that until I ask her.”

  “Then you must live in ignorance.” Shijan spun and loosed his arrow. It punched into the target with such force that the straw figure toppled over. “My lord,” he added, as an afterthought.

  Shin bestowed a genial smile on the other man. “That is your prerogative, Master Shijan. As you say, you are head of the family, and I am but an outsider.” He bowed and turned. “I believe I
have outstayed my welcome. If you will excuse me…”

  Shijan stopped him. “I do not wish you to think I am being intentionally insulting, Lord Shin. It is merely that I am protective of my cousins. I always have been.”

  Shin inclined his head. “Of course. I too have rushed to the defense of kin, on occasion. It is what family does.”

  Shijan smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “I am glad you think so.”

  “Of course, when I did so, it was to spare them embarrassment. Is that what you fear as well? That some embarrassment will come to light if I speak with her?”

  Shijan’s smile faltered. “No.”

  “No? Then there is some other reason. Perhaps you think that Aimi is the one who struck the fatal blow, and not her faithful yojimbo. That would be awkward, I think – though I do not doubt some accommodation could be reached.”

  “The yojimbo killed Gen. She admitted it, and that is the truth and the whole of the truth. Aimi was but a bystander, and she saw nothing save what you have already been told.” Shijan spoke harshly, but the words were rote. Practiced. As if it was a story he’d told himself so often that he’d come to believe it. “I think you should leave now, my lord.”

  Shin bowed and retreated. Kasami fell in behind him as they were escorted out by the same bland-faced servant. “That could have gone better,” Shin said, as they reclaimed their swords at the front entrance. They started towards the gate.

  “You were diplomatic enough.”

  “I was politesse personified. Unfortunately, Shijan is determined to be an obstacle.” He turned as someone called out behind them. A young woman, in the robes of a servant, hurried after them.

  Shin stopped, and when she reached them she bowed low and offered up a folded paper balanced on her palms. “Compliments of my Lady Aimi, my lord.”

  “I see.” He gestured, and Kasami took the paper. She unfolded it and handed it to Shin. It was simple and to the point – Lady Aimi wished to meet him later, at a certain location. She would send a servant to contact him. He folded the paper back and slid it into his kimono. “Pass along my thanks to your lady, if you would,” he said, smiling.