Tetsuo’s face was as unreadable as that of a stone Buddha. “There is no doubt of the beast’s capacity for murder. Perhaps it is mocking us. Or more likely we’ve simply been lucky so far, but such good fortune cannot last. Sooner or later more people will die.”
“Of course you are right, but I must consider all possibilities. I gather it was your wife’s habit to wander the Tambakaido alone?”
He sighed. “Please do not think ill of me, Lord Yamada. My late wife was devoted to me and was of a gentle and obedient nature in most respects, but the habits of her childhood were beyond either her or my power to break. I indulged her in this since the road has been considered safe since our grandsire’s time and I saw no harm in it. I was wrong.”
“No one blames you that I am aware of, Minamoto-san. Yet you did speak of something ‘compounding your misfortune.’ May I ask what that is?”
Tetsuo looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I’m expecting a very important visitor from the Capital within the week, Lord Yamada, possibly within the next three days. It’s imperative that the road be made safe before then.”
I nodded. “From Kyoto? An Imperial Inspection?”
“No, Lord Yamada. Fujiwara no Hitomi. A noble lady and my future wife.”
After Tetsuo left I went looking for Kenji and found him sitting in “meditation” in the gardens. Once I was certain he was snoring I shook him gently awake.
“I really don’t know why you bother to go through the motions,” I said. “You’re not fooling anyone, and least of all Master Saigyo.”
Kenji yawned. “For some reason the mere fact that I bother ‘going through the motions’ seems to satisfy him. Curse you, Yamada-san—that was a pleasant dream you just interrupted. What do you want?”
I passed on the news about Tetsuo’s engagement and Kenji’s face turned as hard and cold as a river stone. “We already knew why Saigyo didn’t wait for help; this simply explains why Tetsuo went along. He couldn’t wait for the government either.”
“You don’t approve?” I asked.
“The funeral rites are properly concluded. Tetsuo no longer has a primary wife, so there is surely no reason why he should not remarry. The timing of it is his business and no concern of mine.”
“Say rather his family’s business. Political matches, as this surely is, are arranged by the families involved. It’s likely Tetsuo had no more say in the matter than you or I do.”
“I know that,” Kenji said. “And I can see that it’s quite a coup, from the Minamoto standpoint, which perhaps explains the haste of it all. This marriage will create an alliance between Tetsuo’s branch of the Minamoto and the Fujiwara of the Imperial Court. You’re well aware of their influence, Yamada-san.”
That was an understatement. “Indeed. I wager that Tetsuo won’t remain a glorified border guard for much longer. Does Saigyo know, do you think?”
“Almost certainly, though he said nothing of it.”
I considered. “Kenji, you lived here for some time. Is there any way to approach the stone called ‘Weeping Woman’ without using the road?”
“No . . . oh, wait. Perhaps there is one. When I was an acolyte, there used to be a path along the mountainside that led to the cliffs above the stone. My friends and I would sometimes amuse ourselves by making wailing noises from above to frighten travelers as they went by. There is a way down to the road from there, but even we weren’t foolish enough to try it . . . most of the time. That path to the road is very treacherous.”
“I don’t need to reach the stone. For that matter, with the ogre present I don’t want to. The mountainside above it may be close enough. Can you get me there?”
“The abbot at the time discovered us and put a stop to our pranks long ago. I do not know if the path still exists.”
“If you still wish to avenge Hanako’s death, then I suggest we find out.”
Kenji needed no more encouragement. As for myself, I was still very stiff and sore and not in the best of condition for clambering around a mountainside. Still, by this time there were at best three hours of daylight remaining, and for what I had in mind I would need every bit of it.
“Let’s go,” he said.
In the old days Kenji and his companions had scaled the west wall of the temple compound; we used the gate, which opened onto a thickly-wooded hillside. Kenji considered for a moment, then said, “This way.” I followed him as we skirted the outside wall. “There. That rock. The path turned here.”
Kenji was apparently incorrect in his belief that the path was unused now; we hadn’t gone too far before I found the imprint of a sandal on a mossy stone, but Kenji shrugged it off.
“Woodcutters and hunters come this way on occasion; I imagine it was one of them.”
I knew the marks of a priest’s clogs when I saw them, but I said nothing. True enough, the path clearly hadn’t gotten a lot of use; on my own I would have lost the trail at any one of several points, but Kenji’s memory led him unfailingly back onto the right way whenever the going got tenuous.
“Old pine tree . . . bramble thicket, two white stones, one dark . . . ” he muttered to himself as one by one he noted the landmarks, always leading us higher. I glanced back once to appreciate the lovely view of the temple complex of Kokusho-ji, nestled as it was at the foot of the mountain.
“I can understand why you love this place so,” I said.
He frowned. “Do not. Oh, it’s nice enough, but if not for Saigyo I wouldn’t come near the place. Too many bad memories. Old Daisho was a right bastard.”
“Daisho? Isn’t that the same as your priest name?”
He shuddered. “Please. That ancient cow-dropping did that to me on his deathbed out of pure spite. He called such little flourishes ‘a touch of hell.’ Like his beatings, or why ogres and demons are allowed to walk among us in the first place, as reminders of what is to come for the Unenlightened. He said I would never be a proper priest and, since he would soon no longer be a priest himself, there was no harm in giving his name to me.”
“Was he wrong?” I asked, trying not to smile.
“Well, perhaps not, but it was still unkind of him to say so . . . ah. Almost there.”
Where we had been spiraling up along a steep slope, now Kenji led me on precarious route down to where the footing suddenly ended. It was hard to see, since several saplings and vines had overgrown the edge. The sun was still in evidence but sinking fast; it would be below the mountains before much longer.
“The rock is just below,” Kenji whispered. “If we keep quiet perhaps the ogre won’t come up here after us.”
“Has it left the road since it first appeared?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know . . . I don’t think so. I believe Saigyo would have mentioned if the creature had been spotted anywhere else.”
“Then the meal it made on Hanako must be long since passed through its stomach. I’d think we’d be dealing with one very hungry ogre, wouldn’t you?”
Kenji frowned but said nothing. I carefully poked through the undergrowth at the edge, trying to get a clear view while making as little noise as possible.
“Kenji, this is your first chance to redeem yourself and show that my trust in you has not been misplaced.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I have to lean over the edge here to get a good view. I need you to hold on to my arms.” I stretched both arms behind me as if being bound. Kenji took a firm grip on each of my wrists as I leaned out over the precipice and looked down. I thought that, perhaps, it wasn’t so great a distance as a mountain top, but still much farther than I would care to fall.
Kenji’s left hand slipped just slightly and my heart hammered in my chest, but he adjusted his grip before I slipped any more. I took several deep breaths and made myself look straight down. I could see the top of the rock and the road on either side, but the ogre was nowhere in sight. I leaned out just a little farther and I could hear Kenji grunt.
“Please hurry, Yama
da-san,” he said in a harsh whisper, “you’re not exactly a feather, you know.”
“Just a little more . . . ”
Now the side of the rock nearest the cliff was visible, and I saw something huddled near the base. Not so large as an ogre and difficult to make out in the fading light. For a moment I ignored Kenji’s straining and leaned forward as far as I dared, and it was finally enough.
“Pull me back, Kenji, if you please.”
When we were both back on solid—if slanted—ground, Kenji collapsed back against the mountainside. “It’s a good thing you spoke when you did; I’m not sure I could have pulled you back if you’d tarried any longer. Did you see what you wanted to see?”
“What I wanted to see? No, but it will do. Let’s go back before you get us lost on this mountain. Tomorrow I’m going to need another talisman from you.”
“Another . . . ? Yamada-san, I cannot in good conscience give you any more wards against the ogre without knowing why the first failed. You’re lucky to be alive as it is!”
“I said ‘talisman,’ Kenji-san. I didn’t say anything about an ogre.”
Tetsuo agreed to meet us on the Tamba road the following morning. It was early; I’d expected Kenji to show up bleary eyed and yawning but he surprised me. He was awake, dressed in clean robes, his head freshly shaven. We set out from the temple onto the road, walking briskly in the direction of the stone called the Weeping Woman.
“Are you sure you’re Kenji and not some wandering spirit impersonating him? If so, you’ve got the dress and demeanor all wrong.”
He grunted. “Very funny, Yamada-san. Time enough for the old Kenji later, perhaps. Right now it is my whim to look the part I play. But if you’re correct, shouldn’t Master Saigyo be present?”
“We’ll all know soon enough if I am right or wrong, including Master Saigyo. Just be ready if you’re needed.”
“Depend on it.”
The odd thing was, even though this was indeed the worthless monk Kenji, sometimes called Daisho, I knew in this that I could, indeed, depend on him. That was some comfort, and sorely needed. The next few minutes would tell the tale.
We arrived where Minamoto no Tetsuo waited for us with two attendants, about a bowshot from the stone.
“I am here as you requested, Lord Yamada, but what is this all about?” He looked puzzled, and just a bit suspicious. I didn’t blame him, and immediately moved to put him at ease.
“Thank you for coming. I am happy to report that the Ogress of the Tamba road is no more.”
His expression immediately changed to near elation. “It’s done? You’ve killed it?”
“The ogre is most certainly dead. Shall I demonstrate?”
I walked briskly toward the stone. Thirty yards. Ten yards. Five. One.
Nothing.
I reached out and placed my hand on the Weeping Woman. She was cold and wet to the touch. Weeping, as usual. Then I very deliberately turned my back on the stone and walked without even the vaguest hint of concern back to where Kenji and Tetsuo waited.
“Lord Yamada, I cannot thank you enough.”
“I have been rewarded amply already,” I said, “but I do have one small request.”
“Name it,” he said.
“Simply walk with me alone, for a bit. Ogres and all things spiritual and demonic are an interest of mine, and there are a couple of things about this one that still puzzle me, and I think perhaps you can make things clearer. If your men and you, Kenji, will pardon us for a moment?”
“Certainly,” Kenji said, and there was a gleam in his eye I hope to never see again. Tetsuo instructed his escort to remain with Kenji and I put my hand on Tetsuo’s shoulder and steered him back down the road toward the standing stone. If he took any notice of my familiarity with his person he didn’t show it.
“I really don’t know what I can tell you, Lord Yamada,” he said. “For you surely know more of these matters than I do.”
“Perhaps. Still, you must admit the entire business is somewhat strange.”
“How so?”
“Well, for a start, ogres are physical beings and need to eat to live, just as we do. Aside from your poor wife, this creature had apparently eaten nothing in over a month.”
“Perhaps they do not need to eat as often as we humans do.”
I nodded. “That could be. Ogres are much rarer these days, and no one living is completely familiar with their habits. That doesn’t explain why the ogre chose this particular rock to haunt, or why it was, so far as anyone could tell, always present. Being a physical creature, why did the ogre never sleep? Or get bored and wander off?”
“I don’t know, Lord Yamada. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help you.”
We were no more than thirty feet from the stone.
“Oh, I must disagree. Since you’re not familiar with the habits of ogres, perhaps you can be of assistance in questions of another nature. For instance, exactly when did Hanako become an inconvenience to you?”
His face went as blank as a mask. “I do not know what you are talking about.” Tetsuo made as if to shrug me off, but I held firm.
“Oh, I doubt that. Now, those inclined to be charitable would say that your family learned of your loss and simply moved quickly to offer you the comfort of a new wife, but I have some sad experience of the Fujiwara and these negotiations are of a dynastic nature. They take time. There is simply no way that your marriage to Fujiwara no Hitomi could have been arranged in full since Hanako’s death. This alliance was already in process.”
“Lord Yamada, you do not understand.”
We stopped then, no more than a few feet from the Weeping Woman.
“No? Then tell me you were not instructed to put Hanako aside in favor of Hitomi some time ago. It’s not an uncommon thing to break one alliance to create a better one. But of course your family did not take Master Saigyo into account, which you knew was a mistake on their part.”
“Meddlesome priest . . . ” Tetsuo practically spat out the words.
I smiled. “Quite so. His family, while not as prominent as the Fujiwara, does have connections at Court. Not to mention his position as the spiritual master of this entire area. He could have made a great deal of trouble for you, had he decided that his sister had been ill-used.”
“You are an interesting fellow,” Tetsuo said. “And your reputation is, I see, well-earned. But I’d be careful not to let this idle conversation get out of hand, if you take my meaning.”
“Do not worry. Why do you think I moved us out of earshot of anyone else? I’m well aware I have no proof of any of this, but I’m not seeking proof. Call it a flaw in my character if you will, but I simply want to know the truth. So. Everyone knew of Hanako’s habit of walking the Tamba Road unescorted. All you had to do was conceal yourself at the stone and wait for her to pass by. When Hanako’s corpse was discovered there is no one who would doubt that she’d met with a bandit. No divorce necessary, and thus no insult to Saigyo’s family. I must compliment you, Minamoto-san.”
He smiled at me. “I would have scoured the countryside, left no cave or crevice unexplored,” Tetsuo said. “Doubtless I could have found some likely peasant to execute.”
“I thank you for your honesty, Minamoto-san. I think we can call our business almost concluded.”
He grinned. “Almost? I said you didn’t understand. You still do not. The ogre—”
“Was Hanako herself? Yes, I know. Did you cover your face? I suspect you did, but she recognized you anyway. The shock and betrayal she felt was such that it turned your kind and gentle wife into that ravening beast. You didn’t anticipate that, and how could you? Such things are extremely rare. Yet you were now saddled with an even bigger problem, were you not? One that would grow far worse if anyone else guessed the ogre’s true origin.”
Tetsuo was smiling now. “I was wrong, Lord Yamada—you do understand,” he said. “Not that this matters. You have slain the ogre and the final obstacle to my marriage is remo
ved. Think what you will of me but consider this: if anyone’s guilty of Hanako’s death, you are. Please remember that fact if you ever think of telling tales.”
“Oh, I will remember your words, I assure you. But I do have one correction to make—I didn’t slay the ogre, Minamoto-san.”
He frowned. “You didn’t? But you said—”
“That the ogre was dead, and so it is. Only I didn’t kill the ogre. You did.”
“Hanako . . . ?”
“Was dying even as the transformation took place.” I took my hand off Tetsuo’s shoulder. “I think your late wife has something to say to you.”
With the contact broken, Kenji’s talisman that kept me hidden no longer shielded Tetsuo, and the Ogress of the Tambakaido appeared in front of Tetsuo in her full horrible glory. Tetsuo screamed and reached for his sword but it was far too late as the ogress embraced him, smiling a terrible smile.
“Anata . . . beloved,” the ogre said, and then she ate him.
There were shouts of consternation from Tetsuo’s men but before they could reach us it was a moot point. In the end they simply watched, just as I did. While it was no pleasant thing to see someone being eaten alive—even someone like Tetsuo—I found myself observing with a sort of curious detachment as she tore the screaming man limb from limb and stuffed each bloody gobbet down her maw. I already knew that her ability to manifest physically was quite strong, but up until this point I hadn’t known for certain exactly what she was going to do to him. Now I had my answer. Perhaps it wasn’t the betrayal as such that drove the transformation, but rather the fear of loss.
She did love him. Despite it all.
And now she loved each and every bite of him as Hanako possessed her husband fully and completely in the only way now possible for her, but the final outcome of the matter was not yet decided. When all that was left of Minamoto no Tetsuo was his sword and his sandals, I waited, and watched and, in my own way, I prayed.
The ogress began to shrink in on itself, the form becoming less tangible, more ghostly. I did not know if such was possible; I had merely hoped. When all was done, I saw the image of a pretty young woman floating beside the rock, wavering and translucent as if her body was formed of mist. She looked confused.
Yamada Monogatari: Demon Hunter Page 10