Mantis

by India Millar

  “I’ll tell him.” She beamed at me, and I understood that—in spite of her amazing courage—Niko was still a child. Now, she was full of tea and cake and was happy. I hoped very much that her father would realize the error of his ways and start to treat her as his daughter rather than something to be sold to the highest bidder.

  I patted Niko’s hand and stood, tapping my way out with my staff. I didn’t look back. I felt immensely guilty at leaving her, and I knew if I saw she was crying, I would relent and take her home with me. But how could I? I was onna-bugeisha, and my way was clear. There was no room for a young child in my future; any danger she had already endured in her young life was nothing compared to what I was going to face. Besides, what would Yo say when he returned home if he found I had managed to adopt a young child? No, by far the best thing was for Niko to go home. Where she belonged.

  It was, of course, the code of bushido that made me feel I had let her down. I protested to myself that I could not take in every waif or stray I encountered, and my conscience finally agreed with me. In any event, if this morning was anything to go by, Niko would survive very well without me.

  By the time I arrived home, I had convinced myself I had done the right thing. The only thing.

  I found it difficult to sleep that night. My futon was very empty without Yo. Matsuo obviously sensed my loneliness. He came and stood beside my futon, wagging his tail and looking at me hopefully. I gave in and patted the kakebuton, and he lay beside me with a happy, doggy sigh. I was grateful for his warmth; the night was cold and I hadn’t bothered to light the charcoal-burner when I came in. I shrugged in annoyance as I remembered I hadn’t cleaned out the ashes of the binchotan charcoal before I went out; another task to do in the morning before I set out to give Lord Akafumu his promised massage. I sighed, nostalgic for the easy life I had once led. A life I knew was gone forever. Matsuo whimpered and I rubbed his ears.

  “I know,” I said seriously. “You used to live on rabbit and chicken and now you get scraps. But it’s worth it to be free.”

  He laid his head on my arm and I let him stay there. Just before I went to sleep, I remembered the old man I had been promised to and wondered if he was still puzzling over what had happened to his bride. The thought made me smile.

  I was still in a good mood when I got up. I dressed and inspected Matsuo’s paw. It had healed nicely. I would take him with me this morning. I poked the cold charcoal-burner with my foot. I could do without tea this morning; cold water would do. I had become used to the feel of Yo’s staff. I picked it up and ran my hand down the smooth wood. Yo’s hand had touched it here, and just so had he carried it with him. It was comforting in more ways than one, and I smiled as I opened the door and stepped out.

  “You’re late, anma.” Lord Akafumu was sulky. I was actually slightly early for my appointment, and I had been surprised when the lecherous chamberlain had ushered me into the daimyo’s private apartment at once.

  “I am so sorry, lord,” I murmured sincerely. “Are you in pain?”

  “Pain? I have terrible pain. You had better be able to relieve it for me or it will be the worse for you.”

  I looked deeply concerned. Inside, I exulted. If he truly thought he was suffering great pain, it would surely make it far easier to persuade him to take one of Adam’s magic pills. I prayed it would be so; I could detect no sign that the opium I had prescribed was having any effect on him.

  “If the lord could kindly get undressed?” I said out loud.

  Akafumu obeyed at once, peeling off his clothes and leaving them where they fell. I would have done the same once. But that was before I had learned that clothes neither hung themselves up nor washed themselves.

  “Well? What are you waiting for?” Akafumu snapped. “I’m in the most dreadful pain. The opium you told me to take has done no good at all.”

  I looked concerned, even as I wondered cynically if the chamberlain was cheating his master. Charging him for the most superior opium and providing nothing special at all. Akafumu was lying on his back, his tree of flesh folded rather neatly on top of his kintama. He looked perfectly well to me. Well-fed and sleek. An idea came to me and I put my ear against his stomach. I was rewarded immediately by a jumble of gurgles and wheezes. To make my examination look realistic, I felt his stomach in various places. I had no need to bother. I knew exactly what was wrong with the daimyo. He had been over-eating, and his stomach was sulky. A good dose of daikenchuto herb would act as a laxative and reduce the bloating, and he would be fine in a couple of hours.

  I sat back on my heels and shook my head reluctantly.

  “My lord,” I said. “I think the situation is worse. I can see you have great pain. Is it coming from your back?”

  “I believe it is.” Akafumu nodded, prodding his belly carefully and wincing when he hit a sore spot. “You said last time that it would get worse. But so soon! Can you do anything?”

  His voice was shaking with fear. I tried the effect of a reassuring smile.

  “It is a grave condition, lord,” I sympathized. “And I can see it is excruciating for you. A massage could ease the symptoms.” A bit of prodding and poking in the right place would have him running to the lavatory. He would be cured instantly. Such a shame that wasn’t going to happen! “But it would only be temporary. As I told you, it’s the fault of the nerves at the base of your spine. They are fusing together far more quickly than I thought.”

  “Then do something, woman!” he howled. He was shivering with fear. “If you can’t help me, I’ll get somebody who can.”

  “Lord,” I soothed. “Since Reiki left us, I am the most skilled anma in Edo. No other anma could do as much to ease your pain as I can. I promise you that. You might find it helpful to call in an acupuncture master.” It wasn’t as risky as it sounded. I knew perfectly well that if Akafumu continued eating and drinking to excess, acupuncture would do no good at all. In any event, it was obvious that I had hit a sore spot by mentioning acupuncture. Akafumu’s face turned white, and I knew instantly that he was terrified of needles.

  “No. No acupuncture. My father ordered it for me once when I had a fever when I was a child. The master stuck me so full of needles I was in greater pain when he finished than when he started. And it did no good at all.”

  “I see. Well, in that case, there is only one alternative, lord.” I paused, rubbing my palms together in a nervous gesture as I waited for his reaction.

  “What? If you can’t help me, and I’m sure an acupuncture master would make things worse, what is there left? I’ve already made donations to a number of temples to ask the gods to intercede for me. That did no good at all. I could call in a witch, I suppose, but if the gods can’t help me, I doubt a spirit could.”

  “You’ve done everything that is known, lord,” I soothed. I waited to see if he would take my bait. He did, snapping like a koi carp at an evening mayfly.

  “What do you mean? Out with it, anma. What do you know that you’re not telling me about? Come on, before I have it beaten out of you.”

  I bowed my head and trembled. “My lord. I have something that will cure you. I know it will. I have gone to great lengths to obtain the remedy for you. It was very dangerous for me, but if it helps my lord to be restored to health, then it was worth it.”

  “What are you babbling about, anma?” He was obviously intrigued. “What is it? Some potion or other? If it’s dangerous, I don’t know if I want to try it. Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “Lord,” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Lord, it is safe enough. I’m sure of that. And I also know it will work. But I must tell you the truth. Only the bravest of men would dare to take the pills I have.”

  I stopped, as if I was thinking carefully about my next words. Akafumu was having none of it. He sat up and prodded me hard in the ribs with his toe. I winced theatrically and hunched into myself, as if I was still reluctant to speak further.

  “Tell me. Now. If you don’t, I’ll have your head ta
ken off. What use are you to me if you have a cure and refuse to share it with me? What is it? Some sort of vile-tasting potion? Does it have to be taken at certain phases of the moon? Does it take away pain but have negative effects elsewhere? What? Stop mumbling, woman, and tell me.”

  He had obviously forgotten the pain in his belly in his interest in what I had to offer. I cringed, wringing my hands together.

  “Lord, it is a pill. Nothing more,” I whimpered. “It should be taken three times a day, each day. If the pain is very bad, it can be taken more often. It relieves all pain, and I understand it is also very relaxing, which is just what your body craves above all else. It may well be the only cure for your malady.”

  “You think so? Why all the secrecy about it? What’s it called, this magic pill?”

  “Morphine, lord,” I said.

  “Never heard of it. What’s so special about it?” Akafumu demanded suspiciously. “If it’s that good, why doesn’t everybody know about it? Is it very expensive? Is that it? Trust me, anma, I can afford it.”

  I’m sure you can. I thought wryly. Aloud, I said, “Lord, the morphine cannot be purchased for any amount of money. The reason it’s not widely known is that it is made only by the gaijin.”

  I waited. Akafumu’s expression turned from curiosity to anger and then became cunning.

  “I see.” He stroked his chin in an effort to look wise. “And how did a humble anma come to get her hands on these gaijin pills? Especially if they are so very exclusive?”

  He was as easy to read as it is to see through clear water. He had begun to suspect I had been sent to assassinate him rather than heal him. I had expected this, and I knew I had to tread very carefully at this moment.

  “I stole them for you, lord.” I turned a trusting face toward him. “A gaijin came to me in great pain. I helped him to recover, and he was very grateful. He spoke quite good Japanese, and he told me how in his country there were no anma. Instead, the gaijin took the morphine when they had pain.”

  “So, why did he have need of your services?” Akafumu interrupted.

  “He explained that his gaijin apothecary was away from Edo, so he could not obtain any of the magic pills. When I went to see him again, he told me he had no need of my services any longer as his apothecary had returned and he had obtained his morphine. I was astonished by the change in him, lord. When I had first seen him, he had been bent almost double with the pain in his spine. He found walking difficult and could not sleep at night for his pain. He was not a young man, but now he walked as if he had shed twenty years in a matter of days. He had no pain at all since taking the morphine, he said. But in spite of the fact that he was well, he had enjoyed my massage a great deal and asked me to treat him again. He had been very generous the first time, so I was happy to treat him again. He fell asleep when I had finished, giving me the chance to steal the magic pills.”

  “How did you know where to look? You’re blind.” Akafumu leaned so close he could have touched me, he was so interested.

  “The gaijin was very foolish, as are all the gaijin. I told him as a healer I was very interested in the morphine and so he put one of the pills in my hand so I could feel it and smell it. When I said it didn’t seem very special to me, he wanted to impress on me how clever the pills were, so he explained to me how many he had taken, and how wonderfully they worked. He put them away before I gave him his massage, but of course I heard where he had put them. I made sure to give him a very deep massage, and he fell asleep as soon as I had finished. I took them before he woke up and left straight away. I didn’t even wait to get paid for the massage,” I added pathetically.

  “So.” Akafumu sat back. “You have these pills with you?”

  I reached into my obi and produced the pill bottle. I had taken a huge risk in bringing them here, but I had decided if they were found I would be honest. I would simply explain that I had brought them with me in hopes of helping to relieve Akafumu’s pain. In any event, I had been fortunate. The chamberlain had obviously been lashed by Akafumu’s anger already; he ushered me through to the presence-chamber without bothering to search me. There had been over a hundred pills in the bottle originally. I had taken them out and put twenty back in. I held it toward Akafumu. He took the bottle carefully, holding it in his fingernails.

  “This is the morphine, lord,” I said.

  “I’m sure it is. But have you thought, anma? You said yourself these were gaijin pills. They may work very well for those savages; after all, it is often the case that animals can eat things that would kill us. It may be the same with these pills. They may heal the foreign barbarians, and yet be deadly to us Japanese.”

  I put my hand over my mouth in a gesture of shock. “Oh, Lord Akafumu! I had never considered that! Please, forgive me. I am nothing but a stupid anma. I do not have your wisdom. Please, believe me when I say I was just trying to help you. If you give me the magic pills back, I will throw them in the river.”

  I kowtowed, hitting my head on the tatami. I wondered if I had overdone it, but it soon became clear I had not. Akafumu held on to the bottle, shaking it gently.

  “You may rise, anma. All the pills appear to be the same. If they are as magical as your gaijin said, it would be a great shame to pass up the chance to try them. Here.” He shook out a single pill and held it out on the pad of his finger. “You swallow that. If you’re so certain they work, and they’re harmless, you’ll be fine. Open your mouth.”

  I did as he instructed and he put the pill on my tongue. I am not very good at swallowing pills. Usually, I would have needed a good gulp of water to get one down. This time, I swallowed hard, grimacing as the bitter pill stuck at the back of my throat. Akafumu instructed me to open my mouth wide, and he peered between my teeth thoroughly until he was sure it had gone.

  “Sit there, anma. I want to see what effect it has on you.”

  I kneeled back down, lowering my head to my breast and praying that the morphine would not kill me. I had expected this, and had decided that there was no way out of it. It had seemed to me that Adam was as normal as any Japanese man, apart from his height and other interesting features. Surely, if the morphine pills had not hurt him, then I would survive taking just one.

  Quite suddenly, I felt a wave of anger so intense it made me shake. Here was the great Lord Akafumu, so worried about a bit of indigestion that he was willing to see me die before he would take a little, harmless pill. What a nasty, heartless coward the man was! I had to struggle hard to keep my face passive. I must have shown some emotion, as Akafumu leaned toward me eagerly.

  “Well? Is it having any effect on you?”

  There was, I noticed dreamily, something very like a rainbow around his head, where the sun reflected off his oiled hair. So very beautiful!

  “I feel very well, lord,” I assured him. And I did. I was so relaxed, I wanted to sway in tune with some music I could hear from far away in the palace. I put my hands on my knees and closed my eyes, wishing he would stop talking to me. I wanted to go to sleep. To sleep for hours and hours and wake up completely refreshed.

  But Akafumu was having none of it. “Well? Do you feel any pain? Anything unusual?”

  “I feel remarkably well, lord,” I said dreamily.

  I stared at him with lazy interest. I noticed that his eyes—as far as I was aware, formerly an average sort of dark brown—were suddenly glowing like topaz. How beautiful they would look strung on a bracelet. I could pluck them out quite easily. If only I could find the energy to reach up to him. Instead, I smiled. Akafumu seemed pleased about that. He sat back, tapping his finger on his knee. His fingernails were long and curved like a hawk’s talons. They reminded me of my beautiful Soru. I wondered absently if my golden eagle was happy with his freedom. I hoped so.

  The music was still drifting around me. It was so faint, I had begun to think it was in my head and not really being plucked from a samisen by human fingers. Then the musician struck a wrong note. The sound made me grit my teeth
with annoyance. It caused a crack in my being for a moment. Then the music began again, flawless, and I relaxed. But the single fault had roused me long enough for me to realize that this was wrong. I struggled with my own inner being; the morphine beckoned to me, luring me back to a fine place of peace and gentleness. A place where nothing mattered at all except the joy of having no cares, of being perfectly happy. It would have been so very easy to give in, to relax and enjoy the perfection. But I would not. My sensei, Riku-san, had trained not just my body, but also my mind. Time after time, he had impressed on me that being a samurai was far more than the ability to fight, and win. That far more important was the ability to understand why I was fighting. To be able to temper violence with mercy; to understand that we humans were set on this earth by the gods, and because of that each of us had a little of the divine in us, if only we were aware of it.

  I was onna-bugeisha. I was here to right the wrong that had been done to me by this man. This bully who was prepared—without so much as a thought—to see me die if it meant he could remove a minor irritation from his life. Once awareness was back with me, the iron fist of the drug began to relax. Still, it tugged, offering me the enticement of a little part of heaven here on earth. Akafumu was watching me intently. I stared over his shoulder at a beautiful scroll on the wall behind him and began to count silently. I got to ten before I lost my thread. I started again. By the time I had reached thirty, I was confident I was in full control of my mind again.

  “I don’t feel any ill effects at all, lord.” My voice sounded odd, a little throaty and indistinct. I cleared my throat and tried again. “In fact, I feel very well. Very tranquil.”

  Nothing but the truth there! But Akafumu was still cautious.

  “Stand up,” He barked abruptly. I obeyed. “Touch your toes with your fingers.” I did so, feeling as elegant as a dancer. “Kowtow. Properly, full length.”