by Sean Wallace
“Forgive my late summons, but under the circumstances it seemed best. I trust my servant told you my purpose?”
“In general terms, my lord, but not many specifics. You have a friend who is cursed?”
The man sighed. “I call it that for want of a better word. I would say ‘haunted’, but that is impossible.”
“How so?”
“As you may know, I am a man of some influence. My friend in turn is a man of good family and some wealth. He has had priests and monks alike place spirit wards at all points of access to his home, and I myself have brought in exorcists of great skill to watch over him. Yet despite both our efforts, a spirit has been seen walking his compound at night, apparently with impunity.”
“What sort of spirit?”
“A female, as best anyone can tell. At first glance she appears totally unremarkable, yet the witnesses who have encountered her up close swear that she has no face. They see only a blank white mask where the face should be.”
“And there are no exorcists on duty when this happens?”
He smiled then. “You must not think me so negligent of my friend’s health, Lord Yamada. Twice the spirit has been trapped and banished to whence it came, yet it always returns again on another night as if nothing had happened. After each visit my friend’s condition worsens. I have sutras being read at half the temples in the Capital. Nothing seems to help.”
That was indeed puzzling. My friend Kenji, though lacking in most other attributes of a priest, was one of the finest exorcists I knew, and I had never known a spirit that he had exorcised fail to remain exorcised. I had no doubt those engaged by Lord Kinmei were of equal or greater skill. Besides, any competent priest could create a barrier that would be proof against spirits of the dead or even minor demons. Still, I found myself wishing that Kenji was not currently on a pilgrimage to Mount Hiea. His bursts of actual piety were infrequent but seldom convenient for all that.
“Lord Kinmei, before we go any further, I must ask you a question: why did you send a shikigami to fetch me? Have you no other servants?”
He smiled again. “Many. But none I would send into the streets of the Capital at this demon-infested hour.”
“Also, this way, clearly yet without saying a word, you demonstrated that you are not without skill in supernatural matters. So I would understand that your need must indeed be great to seek me out.”
Lord Kinmei bowed slightly. “It’s true that I am not without my resources, Lord Yamada. Chinese magic is a slightly disreputable pursuit for one such as I, of course, but useful. Yet you can also see that my . . . intervention, in this matter, must remain at a discreet level. You have quite a reputation, Lord Yamada.”
“For saké?”
A bit blunt on my part, but I preferred honesty in these sorts of dealings, to the degree that was possible. It prevented many a misunderstanding later.
“That as well,” Kinmei admitted, “but also for discretion. The saké I do not care about, save that it not interfere with your services.”
“It will not. Now, then, is it my aid or my advice you seek?”
“Both. For which I am quite willing to pay two casks of rice from the first harvest of my western farms, plus five bolts of blue silk and one bar of gold to the weight of twenty Chinese coins.”
I kept my face blank with an effort. Such would pay off all my current debts plus support me comfortably for an entire year. More, if I were sensible, though of course I would not be.
“Your terms are acceptable. I will require a written introduction to your friend, along with his cooperation. You can start by telling me his name.”
“You’ll understand that I could not say until we had agreed, but he is Minamoto no Akio. He is a member of the Emperor’s guard, though at present he is on leave for his health. All is easily arranged. He will listen to my wishes in this. Do you have any thoughts on the problem at this point?”
The victim was unknown to me, but I felt sure I could find out more from Prince Kanemore if need compelled. That would not be necessary, if Kinmei was being as honest with me as he seemed to be. “A couple. But first I must ask you an indelicate question: to your knowledge, is your friend prone to intemperate love affairs?”
Kinmei smiled again, though I felt that he almost laughed. “Akio has never been prone to intemperance of any kind, Lord Yamada. He is quite likely the most serious, dutiful man I have ever met. He has only one . . . attachment, that I am aware of.”
“Do you know her name? Where the lady might be found?”
Kinmei sighed. “I’m sorry, but such is Lord Akio’s discretion that I barely know of her existence. Why do you ask?”
“Because of the nature of the attacks. Now, one possibility is that the ghost enters his compound by avoiding the barriers.”
“Certainly, but how? The priests are quite diligent, I assure you.”
“By the simple expedient of already being within his compound. If the grave is located on the premises, even an exorcist would not send her far.”
From the expression on Kinmei’s face it was obvious that the possibility had never occurred to him. “Far-fetched,” he said at last, “but certainly possible. That must be considered.”
“The other possibility is that we’re not dealing with a ghost in the normal sense at all, which is why I asked about his love affairs, meaning no disrespect. Our creature could be an ikiryo.”
He frowned. “Ikiryo? You mean the vengeful spirit of a living person?”
I was not surprised that he had heard of such things, but again it was clear the possibility had not occurred to him before now. No wonder. Such instances were extremely rare, and the most famous one of all never actually happened, unless the lady known as Murasaki Shikibu’s account of a feckless prince’s life was truer than was commonly believed.
“Even so,” he said, “I consider that even less likely than finding a grave on the grounds.”
“Jealousy and anger are powerful emotions and can arise even in the best of people. Like the Lady of the Sixth Ward herself, whoever is doing this might not even be aware of it.” I made the reference to the Genji Monogatari in the full confidence that he would understand it, nor was I disappointed.
“The Lady of the Sixth Ward wrought great harm to the Shining Prince’s loved ones all unawares. So. We must consider all possibilities, not only for Akio’s sake but the future happiness of our two families. Suzume especially.”
I frowned. “Your pardon, Lord Kinmei, but I don’t know who you mean.”
“Fujiwara no Suzume. My younger sister, Lord Yamada. Once Akio has recovered his health, he and Suzume are to be married.”
It occurred to me that, if Lady Suzume had been the “attachment” to which Lord Kinmei referred, he would know more of the matter than he was telling. Again, my instincts spoke against that. Which left the matter of Lord Akio’s lover a question that would need answering.
It took a little while for the introductions and arrangements to be made, so by the time I arrived at Akio’s family compound on the sixth avenue south of Gion, his condition had worsened and he was unable to receive visitors. Akio had been placed in the east wing of the mansion, and I could plainly hear the drones of the priests reciting sutras. No expense had been spared, though so far to no good effect.
As evening fell again, I toured the grounds in the company of an aged senior priest named Nobu. I told him of my suspicions, and he considered them in silence for several moments.
“A burial in a place meant for the living would be most unusual,” he said. “One that would occur only in circumstances that were themselves . . . unusual.”
I smiled then. I was beginning to like the old priest. “We must speak frankly to one another,” I said. “You mean either a burial from ancient times . . . or a murder.”
“Lord Akio’s family have long been patrons of my temple. I would not accuse this great and noble house of such a thing,” Nobu said.
“Nor would I. It’s possib
le the grave exists without their knowledge. So it would be in their interest that we find it and remove it, if that grave does in fact exist.”
In some ways Nobu reminded me of Kenji, at least in the sense that I always got when watching a master at work. In a very short span of time I saw that Lord Kinmei’s confidence had not been misplaced. Nobu worked the area of the compound with his tools, and I with mine. He counted the beads on his prayer necklace while keeping up a steady chant as he paced off the length and breadth of the grounds like a water-diviner. For my part I kept a close watch for rising miasmas and the blink of corpse lights. When we met back near the front gate, we had both come to the same conclusion.
Nobu sighed. “Nothing, Lord Yamada. I can find no grave here.”
“I agree. Which is a shame, really. A grave would have been easier to deal with.”
“A proper cremation. A proper funeral ritual and reburial with respect. Even someone torn from this world by violence could be appeased on that score,” he said. “Pity.”
“So that leaves us with the second possibility that I mentioned.”
“My wager,” the old priest said, “would have been on the grave. Lord Yamada, I’ve known young Akio all his life. It simply makes no sense to me that anyone would harbor this level of ill-feeling towards him, consciously or not. He’s as decent a man as I’ve ever known.”
“Someone clearly does . . . and that someone is here!”
I spotted the faintly glowing figure only a moment before Nobu did. I sprinted toward the veranda of the east wing, with the priest, for all his years, barely three paces behind me.
The creature was exactly as had been described. It was dressed in flowing white robes, as for a funeral, though it was hard to make out any specific details of the garb. The ghost’s long, unconfined black hair twisted and flowed in the freshening breeze as if it were a separate thing with its own will, framing a face of no features. No eyes, nose, mouth, just a white emptiness that was more chilling than the most ferocious devil-mask.
I put myself between the thing and the house with no clear idea of what I was going to do. I had amulets for protection against ordinary spirits, but I wasn’t sure they would serve here. I never got the chance to find out, for in another moment Nobu was beside me. I expected him to begin the rite of exorcism, but instead he produced a strip of paper and slapped it directly on to the creature’s empty face. In another moment it had vanished, and only then did Nobu sink slowly to the ground, his chest heaving.
“Are you all right?” I asked. I started to help him up, but he waved me off.
“I think I will live, Lord Yamada, but one of my age should not run so much. Give me a moment.”
I waited until Nobu’s breathing – and my own – had returned to something closer to normal, then I helped him to stand again. “What did you use on that thing?”
“A seal more appropriate for a powerful kami rather than a simple ghost. Which, if you are correct, this thing is not. After seeing the result, I’m inclined to agree. Do you think I destroyed it?”
So my suspicions were confirmed. A powerful spirit but a ghost of the living, not the dead. Ikiryo. I shook my head. “A friend of mine once helped me contain a shape-shifter’s power with something similar, but more likely you banished it temporarily, much like the previous exorcisms. I believe it will return.”
“I can replace the wards on Akio’s room with these,” he said. “I have just enough left. But he can’t stay in that room forever. I’ll send to Enryaku Temple tonight for more seals, but I’m not sure how long these will last. The wards are strongest when first used. Their power fades over time.”
“If I can find the source of the ikiryo that will be a moot point,” I said. “And to do that, I have to learn more about who Lord Akio’s unseen enemy might be. I may need to search his private quarters.”
Nobu hesitated. “Lord Kinmei trusts you and thus so must I, but I would be remiss in my duties to the family if I allowed you to riffle through Akio’s belongings without supervision.”
I had no argument with that condition. I waited while the priest changed the defenses of Lord Akio’s sickroom. When he returned he looked relieved.
“Lord Akio is sleeping peacefully. Whatever the creature meant to do, I believe it was thwarted tonight.”
“Then let us hope I find something that will help keep it away permanently.”
I allowed Nobu to escort me to the young master’s private rooms and remain with me as I searched. I opened and closed several chests, but most contained extra clothes and such and were of little interest. In truth, very little that was obvious to me on first inspection was of interest. I stopped, considering what I might have missed.
“It might help if you told me what sort of thing you’re looking for,” Nobu said.
I sighed. “The only way I could tell you would be if I’d already found it.”
I took another long look around the room. Like a tiny insect crawling on my arm, a thing scarcely noticed save for the itch, something was bothering me. Something was . . . missing.
“Your master is of the royal court and yet not literate?”
Nobu scowled. “Illiterate? Nonsense! Even the Emperor has remarked on Akio’s skill as a poet.”
“Then where is his writing table?”
Nobu’s scowl deepened, then suddenly cleared away. “Oh! It was brought to his sickroom. I think its presence was meant to comfort him.”
“I need to see it, but I do not wish to disturb the young man’s sleep.”
“We should be able to bring it out for you. Come with me.”
Akio’s quarters were in the west wing of the mansion. We made our way through the corridor, into the main house, then out into the east wing. There were few servants about, mostly women, and they moved silently on their own errands with barely a glance at us. As we grew closer to the sickroom, the chanting of the monks grew louder, though the sound remained somewhat muted in order to not awaken Akio.
Nobu left me where three priests sat in prayer, and a female attendant slid the screen aside for him to enter the room. In a few moments he returned, bearing the writing table.
It was of fine make, lacquered and painted with scenes of mountains and rivers and set at the perfect height for a kneeling man to use. There was a small chest attached for his inkstones and brushes, and a separate drawer for paper. All was in good condition and in order, though it was also clear that the table and its implements had seen heavy use.
There were also several cubbyholes containing scrolls. Nobu looked unhappy but said nothing as I pulled each out in turn and examined it. Drafts of poems, mostly completed. I read a few and silently agreed with Nobu’s opinion – Lord Akio clearly was a talented poet and could no doubt hold his own or better at court, where nearly all written communication of importance was in poetic form. I soon found a common reference in several completed poems and a few drafts. I showed them to Nobu.
“Lord Akio uses the expression ‘Lady of the Ghost Willow’ more than once. There’s also a few references to a ‘Lady of the Morning Iris’. Do you know who he meant?” I asked, but Nobu just shrugged.
“I’m afraid the references have no meaning to me,” he said.
“The poems I showed you are Lord Akio’s work, are they not?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
I held a piece of paper which, as the wrinkles and creases clearly showed, had been folded into a thin strip and tied into a knot. “To be certain.” I showed him the bit of writing on that paper. “Is this your master’s calligraphy?”
Nobu was looking decidedly uncomfortable. “No. I don’t recognize the hand, though I think I’ve seen it before. What is it?”
“A letter . . . or rather, a poem.”
“Lord Yamada, this is all really improper. These poems are private correspondence.”
“I agree. Yet I’m afraid that this is my main virtue, for the missions I’ve undertaken: I’m willing to be improper as the need aris
es. And in this case, the need is that I read these private communications on the chance that they will tell me something that can help Lord Akio.”
Nobu’s scowl deepened, but he did not object further. I flattened out the paper as much as possible and read what was written there:
The humbled swordsman
Once proud, a blade cut his sleeve
Now wet with the dew.
The tanka was written in a delicate, refined script and was incomplete. Normally the one who received such a poem would write two lines to complete the form and return it to the sender. I had no way of knowing if the poem had been intended for Akio or whether he had replied.
I had little talent for poetry, but my instruction in the classic metaphors was probably no less extensive than Akio’s. The poem was both an entreaty and a question; that much was clear. But what was the answer? One who might be able to tell me was beyond speech now and might be for some time, if not forever. I wondered if there was anyone aside from Akio who might know.
“Lord Akio is safe for the moment. I must leave now and get a little sleep before I return to Lord Kinmei’s house tomorrow. Please return this table to its rightful place.”
Nobu looked at me. “Tomorrow? But it’s my understanding that Lord Kinmei left for Enrakyu Temple to pray for Lord Akio’s health this very morning. He won’t be back until the day after. And even then he plans to stay here, rather than at his own home. He wishes to be present if . . . when, his friend awakens.”
“Perfect, since it is Fujiwara no Suzume I need to speak with.”
“His sister? May I ask why?”
“Because it’s possible that she knows more about this matter than her brother does.”
It was mid-morning before Fujiwara no Suzume was ready to receive me. I was ushered into the main reception hall. There was a low dais on which a translucent curtain of silk had been hung. Lady Suzume kneeled on a cushion behind that curtain, with two female attendants flanking her at a discreet distance. I could see the outlines of her small form but few details. It would have taken a far more intimate connection than the one I had to be allowed to see her face.