“You say we have given you nothing.” Yo’s expression did not change. “But we removed your uncle, did we not?”
Shijan paused. He had always suspected that such was the case, but had not been sure. Even now, he wondered if it were a lie – a convenient story, meant to bind him even more tightly to them. “I did not ask that of you.”
“And yet you wished for it. You hoped for it. Like all your kind, you would happily climb a ladder of bodies if it meant one more day at the top of the dung heap you’ve made of this land.” Yo took a step towards him.
“Who are you to speak to me so?”
“A free man. One no longer bound by false courtesy.” Yo took a second step towards him, and Shijan backed away instinctively. “I was told to watch and listen and I have. I know now that the Blind Woman should have killed you when she had the chance.”
“Step back, Yo. Leave the room, and we will speak of this no more.”
Yo sighed. “That cannot be done, I’m afraid. You have outlived your usefulness, my lord. I am sorry for you, though I expect that you do not appreciate it at this moment. Perhaps in the next life.” His hand darted into his robe and reappeared with a knife.
Yo swept the blade up and came at Shijan in a rush. Acting on instinct, Shijan drew his wakizashi and intercepted a blow meant for his head. Yo stumbled slightly, but recovered more swiftly than Shijan expected. They circled one another.
Shijan held his sword awkwardly, but the lessons were coming back to him. Yo was fast – but without the element of surprise, he was just a commoner. He could not hope to match a bushi with a sword. At least, Shijan hoped that was the case.
He gritted his teeth and tried to focus. Yo slid forward on light feet, face set in that same damnably bland expression he’d always had. As if he were undertaking no more arduous a task than walking down the street. Shijan met him, desperation lending him speed, if not accuracy.
Their blades met, and slid away. Shijan rolled his shoulders, riding the momentum as his teachers had taught him, and pivoted at the last moment. His stroke opened Yo’s back to the bone, and the servant gave a little gasp as the force of the blow knocked him to the floor. His blade clattered from his grip.
Somewhat startled by the suddenness of his victory, Shijan could only stare at the fallen man as he groped weakly for his weapon. Then, the cold calculus of the moment reasserted itself. Shijan lifted his sword and sent Yo’s head tumbling away with a single, ragged stroke.
Breathing heavily, he lifted his sword and studied the blood running down its short length. He’d never killed anyone before, a fact which had always secretly embarrassed him.
It wasn’t as difficult as he’d imagined.
As he wiped the blade clean, he felt strangely relieved. It was said that there was clarity in death, though he suspected that this was not what was meant.
There was no going back now. It had all come down to a final roll of the dice.
Win or lose, the game would end tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Meetings
“This is perhaps the most idiotic thing you have ever done,” Kasami said. Shin nodded cheerfully.
“Yet,” he corrected. “That I have done yet.” He looked up. Lady Sun was riding high in the sky. “Let us not be hasty. The day is still young, after all.”
Batu had been against it, of course, but they had only a limited window in which to find something useful. Otherwise Shijan might well get away – at least with his reputation intact. Shin had considered several other options for bringing him low, including a vicious campaign of gossip, but he felt this would be more satisfying in the long run.
Shijan had tried to use the sword of Rokugani justice for his own ends – now they would use it to cut him down. What better end to this particular story than that?
To that end, Shin had made it known about the city – through the use of Batu’s surprisingly extensive network of informants – that he wished to speak to Honesty-sama on an urgent matter. “There are worse ways I could spend my time,” he said. “We could be listening to Shijan and Koji drone on at one another instead of enjoying a brisk constitutional.”
Kasami grunted and looked around. They stood in an alleyway in Northern Owari, not far from the Jade Hare. The message had come in the morning, via certain routes known only to Batu’s informants – Honesty-sama was happy to entertain a visit from Lord Shin. If the honored Crane would be so good as to meet a representative at a prearranged location, he would be escorted to Honesty-sama forthwith.
“It’s a trap.”
“Yes,” Shin said, with a sniff. “And an obvious one. Clever, in a parochial sort of way. If I show up, I will be taken like a piglet to slaughter. If I do not, then the point is still made. Honesty-sama is not to be trifled with.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because I intend to trifle with him.”
Kasami shook her head and looked away. “Foolishness.”
“No. Curiosity. It’s what I’m counting on. Honesty-sama knows something, but so do I. Like any good criminal, he’ll want to know how much I know, and who I told.”
“Or maybe he’ll just kill you out of hand, just in case.”
“Well, that’s why you’re here.”
Kasami frowned and looked away. “You make me very tired sometimes.”
“Exhaustion is good for the soul.”
She glanced at him. “Something you read in one of your books?”
“Yes, why?”
“You only get that sort of nonsense from them.”
Shin smiled. “Yes, well, not all of us can subsist on rice and duty. Some of us need more substantial meals – both literal and figurative.” Shin caught sight of the ronin lurking at the opposite end of the street – he could be nothing else, given his kimono and the blades he wore. Shin nudged Kasami, and she nodded.
“I saw him a few moments ago. You should pay more attention to your surroundings.” Kasami pushed past him and interposed herself between him and the approaching ronin. “That’s far enough.”
The ronin stopped. He was tall and saturnine. His kimono bore no sigil, and was the color of dust. “You are the Crane?”
Shin looked down at his blue kimono, as if to check. “I believe so.”
“Good. Come.” The tall ronin jerked his head. “This way.”
“Where are we going?”
“You wanted to see Honesty-sama.” The ronin was already moving away, down the street. “I will take you to him.”
“And what is your name?” Shin asked, as he followed.
“Unimportant.”
“I beg to differ.”
The ronin glanced at him. “Tashiro,” he said, somewhat grudgingly.
“A pleasure to meet you, Tashiro.”
Tashiro grunted also, but did not reply. Shin looked at Kasami. “Not very talkative, is he?”
Kasami grunted, her eyes fixed on Tashiro’s back. Shin sighed.
Tashiro led them along a circuitous route of alleys and side streets, away from the main flow of traffic. It put Shin in mind of walking backstage at the Foxfire Theater. He saw children pursuing one another through the dusty streets. Beggars congregated in the lee of tall buildings, and nightsoil carts rattled along.
They came at last to one of the low, sturdy warehouses that marked where the city began to slide into the foothills. The warehouses were unlike those he was familiar with, being little more than enclosed sheds, meant to protect their contents until they could be moved down into the foothills. Tashiro gestured. “Here.”
“Inside?”
Tashiro nodded. As they entered, Shin saw that he had misjudged the size of the place – it had been built into the rockface of the slope, and extended back a good deal farther than he’d imagined. The warehouse was empty, save piles of canvas and wood, left behin
d by some previous owner. He presumed that Honesty-sama owned the building; according to Batu, he owned many such properties.
“I do not like this,” Kasami murmured. “This is a good place for an ambush.”
Shin shrugged. “So was the street, or the alleys.”
Tashiro led them to the back of the building, where a heavy door of wood had been set into the rockface. The ronin knocked once and hauled the door open. The room beyond was dark, and smelled of dust and damp. Shin glanced at their escort. “In there?” he asked, doubtfully.
“Where else?”
“Somewhere with a bit of light, perhaps? A chance for a spot of tea?”
The ronin snorted. “This is a hideout for a criminal conspiracy, not a receiving room. Inside. Or else be on your way.”
Shin frowned. He glanced at Kasami. She nodded wordlessly, her hand resting on the hilt of her katana. Tashiro had one eye on her, as if calculating how much trouble she might be. Shin was confident that whatever answer he came to would be the wrong one. He sighed and stepped inside.
Despite the lack of light, he knew he was not alone in the room. There were at least four people standing in the shadows – maybe more. He felt a thrill of uncertainty. Perhaps this truly was a bad idea. The door slammed shut behind him, cutting off all sight of Tashiro and Kasami, and he resisted the urge to turn, as he was plunged into absolute darkness. “Well, Honesty-sama, I presume,” he called out.
A soft laugh greeted him. Then the hiss of a flame, as a taper was touched to a wick. Illuminated by the soft glow of a single candle was a familiar face.
The blind woman smiled.
“Hello again, my lord.”
•••
Batu sighed as the negotiations entered their third hour. He sat in his accustomed place, trying very hard not to slump or slouch as the interminable wrangling gnawed at his frayed patience. He’d thought the matter settled, but it seemed otherwise. It seemed there was not one bone of contention but a whole skeleton.
He’d had a low table set out so that his guests might sit around it, thus implying an equality of status and esteem – Shin’s suggestion, of course. Ide Sora sat near him, fanning herself against the heat. She watched the argument between Shijan and Koji with a look of bemused satisfaction. Umeko, the matchmaker, sat just below her.
There were others in attendance – Himari, ever at her husband’s side; Aimi and Reiji, both looking impatient; Lady Nishi and Lord Mitsue; as well as the usual profusion of servants, seeing to the needs of their masters. Lady Sora had brought her own clerks – who knelt at a respectful distance, busily recording all that was said.
Both parties had brought only the minimum escort allowed, as a sign of good faith. Ashigaru, mostly – all waiting outside, a safe distance from one another and in sight of the house. Bushi retainers stood on the steps, just outside the main doors, under the watchful eyes of his yoriki. There was less tension than he’d imagined.
Looking to distract himself, he ran over his preparations; Nozomi was making a circuit of the grounds with several other yoriki. The doshin were scattered about, guarding entrances as well as the prisoner. When the negotiations had concluded, he would order Ruri brought in so that he might pass judgment before the assembled parties.
After that – well. It all depended on Shin. He’d argued against visiting Honesty-sama. He feared there was nothing to be gained there, but Shin was adamant. Whatever he learned could be offered up as evidential testimony. Batu’s eyes strayed again to Shijan.
The Zeshi did not seem nervous, or upset. Indeed, he seemed calm – collected. As if some great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Even so, there was an air of anticipation about him. It might have been related to the negotiations, but somehow Batu didn’t think so. Shijan was up to something – that much he was certain of.
His eyes flicked to one of the servants, kneeling behind Shijan. Something about the man seemed familiar – where had he seen him before? He wasn’t Shijan’s usual servant, that was for sure. He wondered what had happened to the bland-faced heimin.
“You are frowning,” Ide Sora said, from behind her fan.
Batu leaned over. “I thought it was all over bar the formalities. Was I mistaken?”
She didn’t look at him. “These are the formalities. All of the details have been arranged – all that remains is naming a time and a place.”
“So they’re arguing about who gets to hold the wedding?”
“Yes. Weren’t you listening?”
“No.”
She glanced at him. “You seem distracted.”
Batu hesitated. How to explain? So he said nothing. Sora’s smile was cool. “I was surprised when you offered your home as neutral territory. I thought you well out of it.”
“Shin convinced me otherwise.”
“Ah, the Crane. Now it makes sense. Hoping to shore up your flagging reputation?”
Batu grunted distractedly. “I have never been much concerned with my reputation.” The words left his mouth before he’d thought about them, and he flushed. Sora looked away.
“No, I did not think so. From all that I had heard of you, I expected a brusquer welcome. I was surprised by your… effusive agreeableness earlier.”
“This is an important matter. I do not intend to be the one to ruin it.”
Sora nodded. “Even though you have continued to allow the Crane to peck about.”
Batu almost laughed. “If you’d like to try and stop him, be my guest.”
Sora frowned. “Where is he, anyway? I expected him to be here.”
“Oh, he’s pecking about somewhere.”
“Was that a joke?”
Batu paused. “That depends entirely on how you wish to take it, I suppose.”
Sora shook her head. “Iuchi humor.” She turned her attention back to the negotiations. “I am glad that you chose to free Reiji, especially given you had no cause to hold him.”
“I am magistrate. That is all the cause I need.”
“The more you lean upon that authority, the weaker it becomes.”
“Do you still intend to make a formal complaint?” he asked the question bluntly, hoping to startle her. He succeeded, for she gave him a curious look.
“No,” she said, finally.
“Why?”
“It would serve no purpose now.”
Batu nodded and straightened. “Good. I have enough problems.”
She made a sound that might have been a stifled laugh, and he felt a moment’s satisfaction. Shin wasn’t the only one who could flirt. “What of the bodyguard?” she asked, after regaining her composure.
“I will release her, when this is done.”
“And banish her, I hope.”
Batu frowned. “Yes.”
Sora nodded. “It is best.” Her gaze strayed to Aimi. “The girl will not be happy.”
“She has not been happy for a long time,” Batu said, not without pity.
“Happiness is a gift, not a right,” Sora murmured. Batu looked at her.
“My thoughts exactly.” He was going to elaborate, when he heard a shout from outside. Just one – and cut off suddenly. He stiffened – and saw Shijan do the same.
“What is it?” Sora asked.
“I don’t know.” He half-rose from his dais, and detected the scent of smoke on the air. Something was burning, somewhere close.
“Stay here.”
He circled the room, moving to the doors. Outside, smoke filled the corridor. Bodies on the floor. And two men, in the livery of Zeshi servants, approached him, blades in their hands. He whirled to shout a warning, and felt something tear through his side. As he fell, he saw Shijan’s servant rise from behind his master, knife in hand.
The last thing he heard was Lady Sora screaming.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Agreement
“You are not Honesty-sama, I think,” Shin said. The light of the candle did not stretch far beyond their immediate vicinity. He could not determine the number or faces of the others in the room with them, as they no doubt intended.
“Why? Because I am blind – or a woman?”
“No. You are too short.”
She paused, face wrinkling in an expression of confusion. “What?”
“Exactly. You were in Two Step when our boat docked. I remember you now. And then at my welcome dinner. Kasami mentioned seeing you as well.” He glanced in the direction of the door. “I trust your companion will not try to harm her.”
Emiko inclined her head. “Most impressive. And she is perfectly safe.”
Shin frowned, but accepted her statement. He could do little else at the moment. “I don’t believe I caught your name last time.”
She frowned. “Emiko.”
“A lovely name. Who are your friends?” He peered past her into the dark. “Will they not share their names?”
“No,” a woman’s voice said, so softly that Shin almost missed it. “It is not for you to know our names. But it is for us to know yours, Daidoji Shin.”
“That is not very impressive. My fame precedes me.” Shin looked at Emiko. “What is going on?”
“We are saving your life. Honesty-sama would have killed you.”
“I am aware that he would have made the attempt.”
Another pause from Emiko. “Then why did you come here?”
“Because of what he might have said before attempting such foolishness.” Shin sighed theatrically. “All you have saved me from is acquiring a last bit of evidence against the one responsible for a good deal of trouble.” He clapped softly. “Well done, you.”
“He insults us,” a polished voice said. Courtly tones, but with a hint of provincial roughness. Shin followed the sound of the voice.
“Is it an insult to state fact? I think not. But I dislike muttering in the dark. Show me your faces, and let us converse as civilized folk.”
Emiko shook her head. “No.”
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