YAMADA MONOGATARI:
DEMON HUNTER
RICHARD PARKS
Copyright © 2013 by Richard Parks.
Cover art by Glenn Porter, Sherin Nicole.
Background textures by Ash Sivils, *SolStock.
Cover design by Sherin Nicole.
Ebook design by Neil Clarke.
ISBN: 978-1-60701-394-5 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-60701-383-9 (trade paperback)
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No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means, mechanical, electronic, or otherwise, without first obtaining the permission of the copyright holder.
For more information, contact Prime Books at [email protected].
I dedicate this book with gratitude to Shawna McCarthy, who bought the first Yamada story for the late lamented Realms of Fantasy and then, apparently without even hesitating, bought the second one, thus convincing me that, yes, it really was a series.
CONTENTS
Introduction
Fox Tails
Moon Viewing at Shijo Bridge
A Touch of Hell
Hot Water
The River of Three Crossings
The Bride Doll
The Mansion of Bones
Sanji’s Demon
Lady of the Ghost Willow
The Ghost of Shinoda Forest
Glossary of Terms
Suggested Reading
Publication History
About the Author
INTRODUCTION
This book is about a man named Yamada no Goji and set during a time in ancient Japan now known as the Heian period. Although the term is derived from the capital city during the era—Heian-kyo (modern Kyoto)—the word heian simply means “peace and tranquility.” In comparison to the later feudal era of Japan, when the rise of the samurai class meant every two-bit lording and their armies were at each others’ throats, the word is probably appropriate.
A time of learning, great poetry, and literature, the Heian period (794 - 1185) is rightly considered Japan’s Golden Age, at least for the upper classes, but they had their problems:
Demons. Ghosts. Monsters.
While the political situation was relatively stable, the spiritual universe of Heian Japan was in the grip of powerful supernatural forces, most of them malicious and all extremely dangerous. That’s where Yamada no Goji comes in. A minor aristocrat from a nearly extinct clan, he has no property and no family connections. What he does have is a sharp sword, an even sharper mind, and a willingness—if the price is right—to use both to take on any monster the Heian underworld can throw at him.
I originally envisioned him as a sort of Japanese Sam Spade. That original tone is clearest in the first section, “Fox Tails.” But, as characters often do, Yamada had his own ideas about that. Still, that’s where it all started, and that’s where this book starts. Where it ends . . . well, I hope you’ll enjoy finding that out for yourself.
—Richard Parks
FOX TAILS
I was just outside of Kyoto, close on the trail of a fox spirit, when the ghost appeared. It manifested as a giant red lantern with a small mouth and one large eye, and blocked access to a bridge I needed to cross. While it was true that ghosts made the best informants, their sense of timing could be somewhat lacking.
“I have information, Yamada-san,” it said.
“I’m not looking for information. I’m looking for a fox.” I started to brush past it.
“A silver fox with two tails? Sometimes appears as a human female named Kuzunoha?”
The lantern suddenly had my full attention. “I’m listening.”
“You’re chasing a youkai pretending to be Lady Kuzunoha. You really do not want to catch it, if you get my meaning.”
I did. As monsters went, youkai ran the gamut from “mildly annoying” to “slurp your intestines like hot noodles.” By the time you knew which sort you were dealing with, it was usually too late.
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
The lantern looked disgusted. “The other rei said you were smart, Yamada-san. How? You can follow that illusion until it gets tired of the game and eats you. Or we can reach an agreement. That is up to you.” The lantern pretended to look away, unconcerned, but having only the one eye made it very difficult to glance at someone sideways without him knowing it.
“You’re saying you know where Lady Kuzunoha is? What do you want in exchange?”
“Two bowls, plus prayers for my soul at the temple of your choice.”
“One bowl, and I haven’t been inside a temple since I was seven. I’m not going to start on your account.”
I knew it would all come down to just how hungry the ghost was, but I wasn’t worried—I’d already spotted the drool. It was staining the lantern’s paper. The thing grumbled something about miserly bastards, but gave in.
“Very well, but do it properly.”
“Always,” I said. “Now tell me where I can find Lady Kuzunoha.”
The ghost knew I was good for it. Information was the lifeblood of any nobleman’s proxy, and only a fool would cheat an informant once a deal was agreed. I wasn’t a fool . . . most of the time.
“Lady Kuzunoha is in Shinoda Forest.”
I sighed deeply. “I don’t appreciate you wasting my time, rei. My patron already had the place searched! She’s not there.”
“If the idiot hadn’t sent his army he might have found her. She had more of a romantic rendezvous in mind, yes? If you’re really looking for her, that’s where she is. Go there yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“All right, but remember—I may not be intimate with temples but I do have contacts. If you’re lying to me, I’ll come back with a tinderbox and a priest who specializes. Do you understand me?”
“She’s there, I tell you. Now honor our bargain.”
I reached inside my robe and pulled out a bag of uncooked rice already measured out. I took a pair of wooden chopsticks and shoved them point first through the opening of the bag and held the offering in the palms of my hands before the lantern.
“For the good of my friend . . . uh, what’s your name?”
“Seita.”
“—Seita-san.”
The bag floated out of my hands and shriveled like a dead leaf in a winter’s wind. In a moment the pitiful remnants of the offering drifted to the ground in front of the bridge and the lantern let out a deep sigh of contentment.
“Quality stuff,” it said. “I hope we can do business again.”
“Maybe, if your story proves true and Lady Kuzunoha doesn’t send any more youkai after me.”
“But Lady Kuzunoha didn’t . . . ahh, please forget I said that.”
For a moment I thought the lantern was just looking for another offering, but that wasn’t it. The thing was actually scared, and there aren’t many things short of an exorcist that will scare a ghost.
“If she didn’t send it, who did?”
Just before it winked out like a snuffed candle, the lantern whispered, “Yamada-san, there isn’t that much rice in Kyoto.”
The servant who had come to my home the day before claimed to be from Lord Abe no Yasuna. At first I didn’t believe him, but I wasn’t so prosperous that I could chance turning down work. I also couldn’t risk the potential insult to Lord Abe if the servant was telling the truth—even the Emperor would think twice before courting the Abe family’s displeasure.
Like most members of the Court, the Abe family’s ancestral lands were elsewhere, but they kept a palatial residence within the city to be close to the seat of power. Courtiers and supplicants waited two deep within the walled courtyard, but the
servant ushered me right through. I didn’t miss the raised eyebrows and muttering that followed in our wake. It didn’t bother me; I was used to it.
Technically I was of noble birth since the minor lord who was my father lowered himself to acknowledge me. Yet he had met with misfortune and I had no inheritance, no regular patron, and no political connections, so the main difference between someone such as myself and your typical peasant farmer was that the farmer knew where his next meal was coming from. Yet, if it hadn’t been for that accident of birth, people like Abe no Yasuna wouldn’t deal with me in the first place, so I guess I should count my blessings. One of these days I’ll get around to it.
I was ushered in to the Abe family reception hall. “Throne room” would have been a better description, and not too far from the truth. The Abe family counted more than a few actual royalty in their family tree, including the occasional emperor. The man himself was there, waiting for me. He was tall and imposing, probably no more than forty. Handsome, I would say. There was a peppering of gray in his black hair, but no more than that. He seemed distracted. Kneeling at a discreet distance was an older lady. At first glance I assumed she was a servant, but then I got a better look at her kimono, not to mention her face, and saw the family resemblance. It was unusual for a noblewoman to greet male guests save behind a screen, but perhaps the circumstances were unusual. I suspected they might be.
I bowed low. “You sent for me, lord?”
He studied me intently for several seconds before speaking. “Yamada no Goji. Your reputation for effectiveness . . . and discretion, precedes you. I trust it is deserved.”
It was all I could do to keep from smiling. A delicate matter. Good—delicate matters paid the best. “I am at my lord’s service.”
Lord Abe turned to the kneeling woman. “Mother, I need to speak with Yamada-san alone. Boring business.”
“Family business,” said the old woman dryly as she rose, “but do as you will. It seems you must, these days.”
Mother. Now I understood. I had heard of Abe no Akiko by reputation, as had nearly everyone in Kyoto. She had been a famous beauty in her day and, judging from what I could see of her now, that day was not long past. She also had a reputation for being a fierce advocate of her family’s position at court and was rumored to have put more than one rival out of the game permanently. Still, that wasn’t an unusual rumor for any courtier who’d lasted more than a few seasons. More to the point, she wasn’t the one who had summoned me
Lord Abe was silent for a few moments, either collecting his thoughts or making sure his mother was out of earshot; I couldn’t tell which.
“Have you ever been married, Yamada-san?” he said finally.
“I have not, lord.”
“I was, for a while, to a lovely woman named Kuzunoha. I rather enjoyed it, but love and happiness are illusions, as the scriptures say.”
I was beginning to get the drift. “Pardon my impertinence, but when did she leave?”
Lord Abe looked grim. “Two days ago.”
“And you wish for me to find her?”
Lord Abe hesitated. “The matter is a bit more complicated than that, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed. Please follow me.”
Despite Lord Abe’s confidence I hadn’t guessed much about the situation at all, beyond the obvious. Wives left husbands for numerous reasons, and vice versa, and this wouldn’t be the first time I’d been sent after one or the other. Lord Abe’s position was such that he had apparently been able to keep the matter quiet; I’d certainly heard nothing of it. Still, the situation was unfortunate but not a real scandal. I followed as Lord Abe led through a small partition leading to a tiny room behind the dais where Lord Abe had received me. We came to another screen that opened onto another courtyard, and beyond that was the roofed wall that surrounded the entire residence complex. There was another gate visible.
Lord Abe stopped at the screen. It took me a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t looking beyond it but at it. Someone had written a message on the shoji screen in flowing script. It was a poem of farewell, but, despite its obvious beauty, that was not what got my attention. It was Lady Kuzunoha’s confession, clearly stated, that she was not a woman at all but a fox spirit he had once rescued on the grounds of the Inari Shrine and that she could no longer remain with Lord Abe as his wife. The poem ended: “If you would love me again, find me in Shinoda Forest.” The poem was signed “Reluctant Kuzunoha.”
“My lord, are you certain this is your wife’s script?”
“Without question. She always had the most beautiful calligraphy. She could copy any text of the sutras exactly, but when writing as herself her own style is distinctive.”
That his wife had left him was one thing. That his wife was a fox was quite another. Pretending to be a human woman was a fox spirit’s favorite trick, and Lord Abe wouldn’t be the first man to be fooled by one. At the least, that could be somewhat embarrassing, and, in the rarified circles of court where favor and banishment were never separated by more than a sword’s edge, “somewhat” could be enough to tip the scale.
“She knew I didn’t allow servants in here, so none have seen this but my mother and myself. I will destroy the door,” Lord Abe said, “for obvious reasons, but I did want you to see it first. I have already sealed the document granting you authority to act on my behalf in this matter.” He pulled the scroll out of a fold of his robe and handed it to me.
I took the scroll but couldn’t resist the question. “What matter, Lord Abe? Pardon my saying so, but if this confession is true, then you are well rid of her. Fox spirits are dangerous creatures.”
That was an understatement if there ever was. One Chinese emperor had barely avoided being murdered by a fox masquerading as a concubine, and one poor farmer spent a hundred years watching a pair of fox-women playing Go for what he thought was an afternoon. They were tricksters at the best of times and often far worse.
“It wasn’t like that,” Lord Abe said quietly. “Kuzunoha loved me. I do not know what drove her to leave or to make this confession, but I was never in danger from her.”
“You want me to find her, then?” I had to ask. There were at least as many fools among the nobility as elsewhere, and there was always someone who thought the rules didn’t apply to him. I was more than a little relieved to discover that Lord Abe was not that stupid.
He shook his head. His expression had not changed, but his eyes were moist and glistening. “Lady Kuzunoha is correct that we cannot be together now, but she should not have asked me to give up Doshi as well.”
“Doshi?”
“My son, Yamada-san. She took my . . . our son.”
I was beginning to see what he meant by “complicated.”
“I take it you’ve already searched Shinoda Forest?” That was an easy supposition to make. I already knew what he’d found, otherwise I wouldn’t be there.
He sighed. “I should have gone personally, but I did not trust myself to let Kuzunoha go if I ever held her again. My mother suggested we send my personal retainers and in my weakness I agreed. They searched thoroughly, and I lost two good men to an ogre in the process. There was no sign of either Kuzunoha or Doshi.” He looked at me. “That is your task, Yamada-san. I want you to find my son and return him to me.”
“Again I must ask your pardon, Lord, but is this wise? The boy will be half-fox himself. Isn’t there a danger?”
His smile was so faint one might have missed it, but I did not. “There’s always a danger, Yamada-san. If we are fortunate we get to decide which ones we choose to face. I want my son back.”
“By any means required?”
“Do not harm Lady Kuzunoha. With that one exception, do what you must.”
At least my goal was clear enough. I didn’t for one moment think it was going to be easy.
Another advantage of being of the noble class was that it entitled you to carry weapons openly, and Shinoda Forest was not a place you wanted to go empty-handed. T
he place had a deserved reputation for being the haunt of fox spirits and worse; most bandits even avoided the place, and any bandit who didn’t was not the sort you wanted to meet. Yet here I was, for the princely sum of five imported Chinese bronze coins and one kin of uncooked rice a day, plus reasonable expenses. You can be sure I counted that payment to the red lantern ghost as “reasonable.”
There was a path. Not much of one, but I stuck to it. There was a danger in keeping to the only known path in a wood full of monsters, not to mention it might make finding Lady Kuzunoha even more difficult, but I kept to the path anyway. Getting lost in Shinoda Forest would have done neither me nor my patron much good.
Even so, once you got past the fact that the woods were full of things that wanted to kill you, it was a very beautiful place. There was a hint of fall in the air; the maple leaves were beginning to shade into red, contrasting with the deep green of the rest of the wood. The scent was earthy but not unpleasant. It had been some time since I’d been out of the city and I was enjoying the scent and sounds of a true forest. Too much so, perhaps, otherwise I would never have been caught so easily.
I hadn’t walked three paces past a large stone when the world went black. When I woke up, I almost wished I hadn’t: my head felt like two shou of plum wine crammed into a one shou cask. For a moment I honestly thought it would explode. After a little while, the pain eased enough for me to open my eyes. It was early evening, though of which day I had no idea. I was lying on my side, trussed like a deer on a carrying pole, and about ten feet from a campfire. Sitting beside that campfire were two of the biggest, most unpleasant-looking men it had ever been my misfortune to get ambushed by. They were both built like stone temple guardians, and their arms were as thick as my legs. Otherwise there wasn’t much to separate them, save one was missing an ear and the other’s nose had been split near the tip. One look at them and my aching brain only had room for one question:
Why am I still alive?
I must have moaned with the effort of keeping my eyes open, since one of the bandits glanced in my direction and grunted.
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