“Kenji, now!”
“Exorcism is not needed, Yamada-san. Hanako will not linger; she’s done what she needed to do.”
Kenji knew his business and proved correct. Hanako started to fade almost immediately, and in a few moments the ghost was gone. Kenji came and stood beside me, while Tetsuo’s erstwhile escort merely stared at the place where their master had died. I did not think it very strange that neither of them seemed overly upset, now that the event was over. Doubtless much of the character of their late master they had known before I did.
“I will pray for her soul,” Kenji said.
“There is a little more you can do for her, just now.” I led him behind the stone where the full skeletal remains of a woman in a bloodstained blue and pink kimono lay slumped against the rock.
Kenji covered his face briefly with his sleeve. “Poor Hanako . . . This is what you saw from the mountainside,” he said to me.
I nodded. “Before then there was too much that did not make sense. That the ogre was actually Hanako herself seemed almost too obvious, but then how to explain the smell of death if no one had died? And then there was the fact that your first talisman failed. The list of your sins may be as long as the ocean is deep, Kenji-san, but your talismans never fail. It wasn’t until I saw the body that I understood—Hanako had been murdered and it was her angry spirit that had transformed. That is why your original talisman did not work. It was proof against a living ogre, not a ghost.”
“And Tetsuo?”
“No great mystery there. Just because a suspicion is obvious doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
Kenji looked grim. “However much he just suffered, it was not enough.”
I had no comment to make on that. “Kenji-san, if you would, please stay here and supervise the recovery of Hanako’s body. I’m sure Tetsuo’s former guard will be willing to assist you. Under the circumstances, Master Saigyo may wish to repeat the funeral rites.”
“Of course, but where are you going?”
“To make my final report to Master Saigyo, of course. He is, after all, the one who hired me. I would not want him to think he had not received full value.”
I found Saigyo in the temple proper, seated in lone meditation before a statue of Thousand-Armed Kannon the Compassionate. An apprentice monk made to block the entrance but I brushed him aside and went to stand between the abbot and the goddess.
“Forgive my coarse presence, but I am pleased to report the removal of the ogre. I must add, regretfully, that Minamoto no Tetsuo is dead.”
“That is . . . unfortunate,” Saigyo said, “I will pray for him.”
“What will you pray, Master Saigyo? That Tetsuo be sent to the lowest, most vile hell there is?”
Saigyo smiled faintly. “I will pray for Tetsuo as I pray for all people—for the ultimate redemption of his soul. Sometimes an eon or two in hell is required if the sins weighing on a person are grave. That is for the King of Hell to judge and need not concern either of us.”
“You knew that Tetsuo was responsible for your sister’s death,” I said.
“Knew? Say rather that I strongly suspected. As, apparently, did you. How did you discern the truth?”
“Starting in the same place you did—Kenji’s mountain path. You were among the companions who once accompanied him on his pranks, weren’t you?”
“ ‘Among?’ I was his primary accomplice. When I heard what had happened to Hanako, I thought perhaps I would ignore my creaking old knees and dare the climb down to the road. I thought I might somehow elude the ogre and recover whatever remained of my unfortunate sister before the funeral rites were concluded.”
“You got farther down the cliff than I did, I wager, and then you saw what I saw—Hanako’s skeletal body. The bloodstains on her clothing were obvious enough, but otherwise her body was uneaten, unbroken, and practically undisturbed. That was not possible if Hanako had been killed by an ogre. The sensible conclusion was that she had not. You realized then what the ogre was, and could have chosen to exorcise the spirit straight away. Instead you chose revenge and hired me as your instrument!”
Master Saigyo’s voice was as soft as a cloud. “What should I have done, Yamada-san? Sent my unfortunate sister out of this world as a monster? This was not revenge—this was justice. And as to the ogre’s nature, Kenji is a skilled exorcist and could have done the same. Yet when you came to suspect Tetsuo’s guilt and the ogre’s true nature, you yourself chose another path, or am I mistaken?”
“No,” I said, “you are not.”
I’m not sure why I was so angry; I had no real quarrel with Saigyo. I had chosen to accept his coin and had in turn decided to avenge the death of Hanako, a woman I had never even met. Then I thought of the way Kenji spoke of Hanako and knew that meeting her wasn’t necessary to understand what was justice and what was not. I felt my anger leaving me.
“As you said, there is justice in Hell. That doesn’t mean there should be none here,” I said. “I did make a choice, so perhaps I will have to answer for that.”
“We all must answer for what we have done, Yamada-san, and,” he added pointedly, “for what we have not done.”
“Given the option,” I said, “I’ll take the first.”
He smiled a little ruefully then. “You and Kenji will be returning to the Capital soon, I expect. See me in the morning for the balance of your payment, and so our business will be concluded. And yet I must still ask a favor of you.”
“What is it?”
“If possible, please try to look after Kenji. At least a little.”
I considered this. “Master Saigyo, forgive my bluntness, but you know as well as I that, aside from his specialist skills, Kenji is probably the worst excuse for a priest who ever lived. He drinks, he carouses, he studies scripture only to extract appropriate passages for use as talismans. Frankly I do not understand why, even within the bonds of friendship, you allow his continued association with this honored temple. And before you ask, no, I have not said anything to you now that I haven’t said to his face, and worse besides.”
“At least he does study scripture,” Saigyo said without a trace of irony. He smiled then. “Yamada-san, I can’t fault Kenji for his failures as a priest because he’s not a priest. Not really. Poverty drove his parents to give him to the temple as a boy, whereas I chose to be here. I have been far luckier than Kenji in that I learned early on what I wanted and needed for my life’s path. Kenji is still sorting that out for himself and doing the best he can along the way. He will manage, because he’s better than you know, Yamada-san. Come to that, he’s better than he knows. Why do you think Master Daisho gave Kenji his own name?”
“To plague him?”
Saigyo smiled. “Well, that too. As our old Master was wont to say, ‘a touch of hell is not always a bad thing.’ ”
“I’ll see what can be done, but please understand that, come tomorrow, our accounts are settled. It’s not because you asked me. It’s because he’s my friend.”
Which was also true, much as I hated to admit the fact. The priests say that we seek what we require, even if we know it not. Perhaps Kenji did require “a touch of hell” and that was why he was my friend. Perhaps, in my own way, I required someone like Kenji. It occurred to me that a little hell was probably all I had to offer anyone.
HOT WATER
The first thing I did upon waking was reach for my saké cask. It wasn’t there. Kenji was.
“Good morning, Lord Yamada.”
The second thing I did was reach for my sword. It wasn’t there, either. Kenji the reprobate priest kept out of reach by the doorway as I struggled to make my eyes focus. Once my surroundings were more than a blur, I realized that I wasn’t in my rooms at the Widow Tamahara’s establishment. If anything, these quarters were even more spare though, I had to admit, cleaner.
“Kenji-san, what is the meaning of this?”
“You’ve been kidnapped on Prince Kanemore’s orders. For your own good, of course.�
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My friends sometimes had a strange way of showing their affection. I groaned and sat up. “Where am I?”
“At a small temple west of the Capital, where you will remain for a minimum of one week. I have been so instructed by His Highness.”
“Is this some sort of joke?”
He grinned, rubbing the graying fringe around his head. His tonsure was badly in need of a shave. “Well, I find the situation extremely amusing. It might help the time pass for you to do the same. Prince Kanemore, I can assure you, is as serious as a winter storm.”
“I haven’t been drinking that much.”
“Of course not. That is why we were able to haul you bodily out of your bed, carry you for two days in a litter, then deposit your pitiful carcass in the guest quarters of this good temple, and not wake you even once. Tell this to someone who doesn’t know you. And by the way, for your next call of nature, please be so good as to deal with it yourself. I’m done.”
I took a sniff of my clothes and bedding which were, much to my astonishment, clean. “This really isn’t necessary.”
“Prince Kanemore disagrees. Currently, his opinion is the one that matters.”
Kenji handed me a letter. I broke the seal and read:
“My sister would be very angry with me if I let you die for her sake. Especially since we both have work yet to do. For now you will rest and recover. That is both a command and a request from a friend.
—Kanemore”
My failure to save Princess Teiko would haunt me to the end of my days, but drinking myself to death had never been my plan. I resolved to tell Prince Kanemore that as soon as I returned to the Capital. “I’m leaving. Please don’t try to stop me.”
Kenji smiled. “Why should I do so?”
I frowned. “You mean you weren’t sent to ensure my co-operation?”
“No, I was sent to explain the situation to the abbot of this temple and present a gift to him from Prince Kanemore. The bushi that Prince Kanemore has stationed at all the exits to the temple compound, on the other hand, were sent to ensure your co-operation.”
“Oh.”
Kanemore was like his late sister at least in that regard—when it came to strategy, he was meticulous. “What am I to do here?”
“Nothing but rest. No ghost finding, no demon quelling, and especially no drinking,” Kenji said. “Which actually is the part of this arrangement I find most disagreeable. If you cannot drink, neither can I. There is no saké at this temple, I can assure you. I’ve looked.”
“No doubt you were looking for women as well.”
“None of those, either,” he said sadly. “Not so much as an elderly nun. So. Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Not in the least.”
“Too bad, because breakfast has been prepared. Millet and pickles. For all meals. For the next week.”
No rice and seven days of enforced sobriety in the company of Kenji? I groaned again. Forget this “for my own good” nonsense—I was being punished.
Other than the matter of not being allowed to leave, I was pretty much abandoned to my own devices after Kenji and I paid our respects to the chief priest of the temple. Despite a pounding pain in my head, I managed to keep my breakfast down and then stirred myself enough to have a look around the confines of my prison.
Like many mountain temples, it was a compound consisting of the main meditation hall and barracks for the monks, as well as a kiln, a forge, and storage buildings for the grain and other offerings that came into the temple as both gifts and payment for funerals and other spiritual services the temple provided for the people of the surrounding area. With these supplies plus the free labor of the monks and lay-brothers, such places tended to exist fairly comfortably.
There was a walled and gated section on the northern slope of the compound that I could not immediately identify, beyond which I saw wisps of steam and heard rushing water. I had a suspicion, which Kenji later confirmed when he collected me later that afternoon. He was carrying two spare sets of robes.
“Come with me, Lord Yamada.”
“I’m not taking the tonsure, if that’s what you had in mind,” I said as I rubbed my aching temples. “Being sober is bad enough.”
He laughed. “Clearly, you do not realize where you are. Come with me, and we might find a remedy for your pain.”
Kenji led me to the very walled and gated section which I had noted before. He spoke a word to the young monk minding the gate, and we were ushered through. I immediately noted two rather large stone bathing troughs and, beyond those, steam rising from the slope of the mountain where what I now realized was a waterfall tumbled down into a large pool.
“A hot spring?”
“One of the finest in the district, Lord Yamada. Noted far and wide for its cleansing and curative powers.”
“If that’s the case, why are we the only ones here?”
“I would guess because it’s rather early in the season for the nobles to be traveling,” Kenji said, though, as I’d apparently planted the thought in his head, he did look a little puzzled. “Still, I’m more inclined to enjoy a good, hot soak than question my luck. Shall we?”
It had been a long time since I’d visited a hot spring of any sort, so I needed little persuasion. We stripped down and rinsed ourselves in preparation. As we were doing so, the young monk who had been watching the gate approached us hesitantly. I guessed his age at no more than twenty. He had a good, strong face that didn’t seem go with his current nervousness.
“Yes, Hoshi? What is it?” Kenji asked.
“Masters, I felt it my duty to urge caution to you both. There have been some . . . problems, at the spring.”
“What sort of problems?” I asked.
“Sudden rises in the water temperature,” Hoshi said. “It’s only started happening recently, and so far no one’s been injured, but I still advise caution.”
We thanked Hoshi for his concern, and he bowed and returned to his post. “Probably some fire spirit having a bit of fun,” I said.
“Be serious,” Kenji said. “In the middle of this holy temple? Such a one would have been driven out ages ago. And even if such a creature appeared, I would exorcise the silly thing faster than it could call its mother.”
I had to give Kenji credit—he was fiercely loyal to the Buddhist creed, even if he rarely followed it to the letter. In his worldview, such unenlightened creatures as gods and spirits were simply beneath notice. I know most people who followed the old Way of the Gods had long since reached accommodation with the more recent Buddhist teachings and often it was difficult to tell where one set of precepts ended and the other began. Yet not everyone had done so and certainly not Kenji. He remained a purist to the core of his lecherous, hard-drinking being. I draped the spare robe over my arm and bowed to the priest.
“Lead on.”
The main soaking-pool was nestled up against the mountain. It was a naturally formed stone basin at the foot of the waterfall; from there the heated water flowed out through a channel to run in steaming rivulets down the side of the mountain. Niches had been cut into the rock for the bathers, and we gingerly lowered ourselves into the water.
The water was perfect—hot but not scalding. There was a faint hint of sulphur but not enough to affect the breath. The heat began to ease away aches I had not realized were present, though my headache, if anything, felt worse. I remarked on this to Kenji.
“That’s just the poison being drawn from your body. You’ll feel better soon . . . maybe a day or so. You have a lot of impurities, Lord Yamada.”
“Said the pot to the kettle.”
I couldn’t work up much beyond mild annoyance at Kenji; the bath felt too good. I wasn’t exactly grateful to either him or Prince Kanemore, but the prospect of more hot soaks over the coming days made my confinement seem something less than an ordeal. I settled back against the stone, down into the water until it covered everything except my nose and eyes. I was about to close my eyes when movemen
t caught my attention. I looked up.
She was standing on a stone ledge at the top of the waterfall, about a bowshot up the mountainside. From that distance it was impossible to tell her age, though my impression was that of a young girl, perhaps twelve, wearing a plain brown kimono and hakama. Her hair was unconfined and flowed over her shoulders like a black waterfall. I sat up.
“I thought you said there were no . . . Kenji, move!”
I grabbed Kenji’s arm and yanked him upright, and we half-climbed, half-fell out of the pool and onto the hard stones around its edge. Not an instant too soon. In another moment we both heard the roar and felt the crash as a huge fall of boiling water slammed down the mountainside. We scrabbled to get away from the edge of the pool but even so felt the sting of the scalding spray. Kenji’s backside was covered with red blotches, and I had the feeling I had fared no better. In another moment the excess water had flowed over the side of the pool and down the mountain, and except for the still-steaming water soaking the stones surrounding the basin, it was impossible to tell that anything unusual had happened.
Kenji threw one of the spare robes at me and wrapped himself in the other as Hoshi came sprinting through the gate. “Masters, what happened?”
“I’m not sure. Kenji, I thought you said there were no women here.”
“There aren’t,” he said, looking puzzled.
“The nuns are all on pilgrimage to Enrakyu-ji,” Hoshi confirmed. “Along with a substantial number of my brother monks. We have no others guests at the moment, man or woman. Did you see something?”
I noticed that his glance, as did mine, strayed up to the top of the waterfall, now empty except for the steady stream of hot water that had doubtless been falling no differently for hundreds of years. “I thought I did,” I said.
“Nevertheless,” Kenji said, “if you hadn’t pulled us out of there when you did, we’d have been boiled alive.”
That much was certain. Perhaps my eyes were deceiving me when I saw the girl; if she’d been standing where I thought when the mountain stream boiled over, she’d have been scalded even as she was pushed to her death, but there was no sign of her, either in the pool or the near slope. Even so, my eyes were telling the truth when I saw the waterfall erupt. I carefully pulled the robe around my stinging flesh.
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